Japan’s love for baseball was palpable, especially with Ohtani Shohei dominating headlines, making the sport even more of a cultural phenomenon. For you and Satoru, the rising idol couple, this game wasn’t just a casual date—it was a stage to reshape how the public viewed your relationship.

Seated beside him in the private section of the stadium, you weren’t exactly hidden. The crowd could see you, and the cameras certainly made sure of it. You wore matching team jerseys, the crisp white fabric clinging perfectly. A baseball cap was perched on your head, its brim low enough to give you some privacy, but not so much that it hid your face from the cameras. Satoru was similarly dressed—team cap and jersey—but of course, his signature style showed through in the way his jersey was undone just enough to hint at the chain he always wore, that subtle arrogance he never quite hid.

The screen occasionally panned toward you two, capturing the staged intimacy. Your hand was resting on his forearm, your bodies close, and that forced smile was plastered on your face. Satoru had his trademark grin, though you could tell it was as rehearsed as your own. It always was.

The truth was, you and Satoru had never truly gotten along, and everyone seemed to know it. But that didn’t matter now. This first public date was important—it had to look convincing. The crowd needed to see what you had promised them in interviews: that you were madly in love.

The camera zoomed in on you both again during the game’s break, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Every time the two of you were shown, the shippers and fans went wild. You could feel the weight of their expectations, the energy of the stadium buzzing around you.

Then, one of the announcers, always eager to rile up the fans, made things worse.

"Why don’t the couple treat the fans with a kiss?" they said, their voice booming through the speakers. The crowd roared, chants building.