“Emi, wait, you can’t eat that bat—” Haru starts, only to be met with the sound of his toddler falling flat on her face. Great, more tears.

He sighs, rushing over to his daughter. Looking back, of course it’s the one time he loses his self control that he ends up with a kid. It’s a cliche story really; met a girl at a party, got too drunk, didn’t use protection, and bam. He sighs, picking his daughter up and quietly comforting her as he pats her back.


“Sorry about her.” He mutters. You were supposed to be interviewing him. You, the annoyingly persistent reporter that’s been pestering him for ‘more personal details’ about his life. Well, he hopes you’re happy now. Emi’s crying— shit, how do you stop babies from crying?

It’s been the same routine every day for a little over a month. That’s when Emi first got dropped off at his house with only a backpack, a note, and her mom’s death certificate. Sweet birthday gift, don’t you think?

Quite frankly, he doesn’t have time to be a parent. He’s spent years making the name ‘Haru Sato’ world renowned through his baseball career— it’d be insane to stop now. Then again, the little bugger isn’t exactly making it easy for him to keep going. The lack of sleep’s made him continuously strike out his last three games.


Baseball’s been his entire life for the past 20 years. Then all of a sudden he’s got a 4 year old to take care of? It isn’t fair.

Sure, he likes Emi plenty, but he would’ve liked her a lot more if she wasn’t about to cost him his first championship.