Volume 2
Chapter 2: Thoughts run wild in everyday life (Part 1 of 5)
───● The Childhood Friend JD Hits Back ●○●
I believe that a university, as an educational institution, varies in its daily demands based solely on the student’s initiative.
Those lacking motivation might skip classes, leaving attendance to others while they go have fun, whereas driven students attend numerous classes to earn credits.
Of course, it probably depends on the university.
I fall somewhere in the middle—attending a decent number of classes but also taking a fair amount of time off.
Today leans more toward a day off.
Third period is over, and I don’t have any more classes scheduled.
“Ugh, I’m beat! Man, a quiz next week? I’m not feeling confident.”
“It’ll work out, it’ll work out!” Mizuho replies cheerfully.
“Mizuho, you always say that and barely scrape by…”
“Barely is good enough!” Mizuho retorts with a grin.
As usual, the three of us attended class together today.
Lately, I’ve grown accustomed to hanging out with this trio.
I steal a glance at Masato’s profile as he chuckles at Mizuho’s words.
It’s because I’ve grown so used to this that I hesitate. I want to confess my feelings to Masato, but the thought of rejection makes me shrink back.
Still, if I keep things vague forever, someone might snatch him away—he’s too charming for his own good.
That’s the one thing I absolutely can’t let happen.
“…? Koumi, something up?” Masato asks, noticing my gaze.
“Nope! Nothing at all! Alright, let’s head to that batting center we planned on! It’s just a short train ride away!” I say, brushing it off.
“Sounds good to me!” Masato agrees.
Today, Masato and I had already planned to hit the batting center.
I may not look it, but I played softball growing up, and I’m pretty confident in my batting skills. Masato didn’t believe me when I told him, so today’s the day I prove it! That’s the deal.
“Mizuho, you’re coming too, right?” I ask.
Mizuho, the carefree twin-tail girl walking beside us, is also great at sports.
She’s been getting along well with Masato lately, so I figured she’d join us. But…
“Huh? Oh… haha! I’ve got some prior plans today… You two have fun!” Mizuho says with a sheepish laugh.
“Really? That’s a shame,” I reply, surprised.
“Yeah, yeah! Super popular Mizuho-chan’s got a busy schedule… sniff sniff,” she says dramatically.
It’s unusual for Mizuho to pass up an invite. We’ve known each other for a while, and she’s usually eager to tag along, like a puppy wagging its tail.
“Got some errands, Mizuho?” Masato asks, peering at her curiously.
“N-No, it’s just…! Gosh, Masato, you really want Mizuho-chan to come that badly? Sorry, but I’m booked today! Catch you both tomorrow!” Mizuho says quickly, adjusting her mariners cap and dashing off.
“Hey, Mizuho, wait!” I call after her.
What’s the rush? We were supposed to head to the station together…
“She was acting kinda weird,” Masato remarks.
“Yeah…” I murmur.
Then it hits me—Mizuho was being considerate. She’s giving Masato and me a chance to be alone, like a date.
“That idiot Mizuho… It’s not like I mind her being around,” I mutter under my breath.
“Hm? What’s that?” Masato asks.
“Nothing! Let’s go!” I say, brushing it off.
I’ll have to talk to Mizuho tomorrow.
I don’t mind our time as a trio, and going to the batting center with all three of us wouldn’t have been an issue.
Sure, we’ve been hanging out as a group more often at university, but I don’t find Mizuho’s presence annoying at all.
After all, I’m the one who introduced her to Masato.
I love Mizuho, too, in my own way.
It’s about a ten-minute train ride from the station near our university.
Masato and I arrive at the station where the batting center is located. As we exit the ticket gates, we spot a building with a netted rooftop right in front of us.
The distinct metallic ping of bats hitting balls echoes faintly.
“I’m getting pumped to bat again after so long!” Masato says excitedly.
“Hehe, you’re like a kid,” I tease.
“Nothing wrong with embracing your inner child for stuff like this!” he replies with a grin.
I follow Masato as he practically skips toward the elevator.
I wonder what Masato was like as a kid. Was he already this cool back then?
We take the elevator to the rooftop.
I put a thousand yen into the ticket machine, and it spits out tickets for four batting sessions.
“Who’s up first?” he asks.
“You go ahead, Masato. Your eyes have been sparkling since we got here,” I say with a laugh.
“Haha, you noticed?” he replies, grinning.
He really is like a kid sometimes. It’s adorable and endearing.
Masato hurries to a batting cage… but—
“Masato, that’s the 130 km/h cage! Maybe start with something slower…” I warn.
“Nah, I’m good! I can handle this!” he says confidently.
“Really…?” I say skeptically.
It’s the second-fastest cage in the place. Even for guys, hitting that speed is tough.
“Oh, can you hold onto these for me?” Masato asks, handing me his backpack, watch, and necklace before heading to the cage.
…Wait, doesn’t this feel super girlfriend-y? Holding his stuff while he bats—it’s totally a girlfriend vibe, right!?
I’m basically his girlfriend now (self-conclusion).
I’m so happy…
“Alright, here we go!” Masato calls out.
He rolls up his sleeves and steps into the right-handed batter’s box.
I watch him through the net.
The monitor lights up, showing a virtual pitcher winding up.
The ball shoots out.
“Here!” Masato swings sharply, connecting with the ball. A high-pitched metallic ping rings out.
The ball soars cleanly toward center field.
“Whoa, that was awesome! You’re actually good, Masato!” I exclaim.
“Told ya!” he says, grinning. “Here’s another!”
He catches the next ball, sending it to right field.
He’s swinging from the inside, producing strong hits to the right.
He’s… really good. Oh no! At this rate, I won’t be able to prove I’m better than him!
But putting that aside, Masato’s batting form from behind is just so cool.
I can’t help but stare, forgetting to keep up the conversation.
Oh, right! I should record this.
I want to watch it later.
I pull out my phone and start recording a video of Masato.
“Here!” he calls, hitting another.
“Wow, that’s amazing! You’re getting almost all of them!” I shout.
“Piece of cake!” he replies confidently.
My heart’s racing.
This whole conversation is being recorded perfectly on my phone.
If I posted this on social media… wouldn’t that basically make him my boyfriend?
Maybe I should just claim him publicly. Brilliant idea, if I do say so myself.
In the end, Masato hits almost every ball cleanly.
“Man, that was fun! It’s been a while, but I still got it!” he says, beaming.
“That was seriously impressive. You weren’t kidding,” I admit.
“Told ya!” he says proudly.
His high energy is infectious, and I can’t help but smile.
Now it’s my turn to show what I’ve got.
“My turn!” I declare.
“Whoa, Koumi, you’re using that cage?” Masato asks, surprised.
“Yup, why not?” I reply.
“It’s kinda fast, don’t you think? Maybe try a slower one…” he suggests.
Oh, ho.
He’s still underestimating me, huh?
“Here, hold these!” I say, handing him all his stuff plus my own.
Alright, let’s show him!
I step into the cage and insert my ticket.
Without hesitation, I press the start button.
I’m glad I wore hot pants and sneakers today.
I figured we might be active, so I chose something easy to move in. Good call.
The pitcher on the monitor winds up, and the ball shoots out.
I swing hard and connect. Yes! Center field!
“Whoa, seriously?!” Masato exclaims.
“Told you!” I reply smugly.
He’s shocked. Yes, that’s the reaction I wanted!
I’ve been around baseball since I was a kid and somehow kept up with softball.
I got pretty good without realizing it and put in decent effort in high school.
I’ve always loved sports, after all.
After that first hit, my softball spirit ignites.
I’m not missing a single pitch from here on out!
I keep connecting, hitting to center, right, and left. I keep my left leg low, focusing on weight transfer.
It reduces power but boosts accuracy.
Before I know it, I’m completely absorbed, hitting ball after ball.
After the batting center, Masato and I are taking a break at a fast-food place on the first floor of the building.
…But.
(I overdid it…!)
I’m drowning in regret.
I got so fired up and went all out.
But how does Masato feel about that? I’m second-guessing myself now.
We came here together to have fun, but if he didn’t enjoy it… And what if he doesn’t think I’m appealing?
I got too competitive and just kept hitting…
What if he thinks, “Whoa, she’s intense, kinda scary…”? I wanna die…
“Sorry for the wait!” Masato says, returning with a tray of food and drinks.
“That was so fun! …Hey, what’s wrong, Koumi?” he asks, noticing my slumped posture.
“Nothing… haha…” I mumble.
I totally overdid it… I should at least ask him.
I glance at Masato, who’s sipping his drink, looking puzzled.
“So, like… what do you think of girls who are good at sports?” I ask hesitantly.
“Hm? Like, in what way?” he replies.
“Um, like… as a type? Do you like them or not?” I clarify.
I’m trying to soften the question to minimize any potential damage…!
“Hmm. Maybe because I used to play sports with a friend when I was younger, but I kinda like athletic girls,” he says thoughtfully.
“…I see,” I reply softly.
A friend from back then…
Right, of course. Masato has a past, too. Someone as cool as him wouldn’t have been single all this time.
His answer should’ve made me happy, but I can’t help feeling down.
“When did you start playing softball, Koumi?” he asks.
“Huh? I think around late elementary school,” I answer.
“Got it. So you kept at it through high school? No wonder you’re so good,” he says, nodding as he munches on fries.
Is… is that a compliment? He said he doesn’t mind athletic girls, so I should be happy, right…?
We take the train back.
I didn’t get to ask more about Masato’s childhood.
There’ll be plenty of chances to talk later… I’ll ask him another time.
“Well, I transfer here,” Masato says.
“Oh, right! Good work today! See you tomorrow!” I reply, waving as he gets off the train.
Honestly, I’m comfortable with how things are now.
We hang out at university, text all the time, and go on what feels like dates—though I’m sure he doesn’t see it that way.
I don’t want anyone else to have him. That’s non-negotiable.
But at the same time, I’m terrified of ruining what we have.
If I couldn’t be with Masato anymore… I think I’d break.
Ping.
My phone chimes with a notification.
Who could it be? I check my phone and see Masato on the screen.
Did I forget to give something back…?
Masato: “Thanks for today! It was a blast!”
Masato: [Sent an image]
A picture from Masato…?
I tap to open it.
It’s a photo of me, mid-batting, focused and poised as I wait for the pitch.
It’s taken from an angle behind me.
Masato: “Snuck a pic lol. You looked so cool! I’ll let you win this round!”
—Oh. Why does he always…
I clutch my phone to my chest.
Sitting on the train, I let the feeling sink in.
He does exactly what I want him to do.
He says exactly what I want to hear.
“I really… really love him…!” I whisper.
The sound of my heartbeat drowns out the train’s rumble.
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