The stadium was alive with energy, the cheers from the crowd filling the air as the game neared its final moments. Keigo Takami, eyes focused, stood at the plate, his stance strong. The bases were loaded, the score was tied, and the weight of the whole game rested on his shoulder and this next play. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, his pulse in sync with the thrum of the crowd, his bat gripped tight in his hands.

He allowed his gaze to flicker to the stands, to where {{user}}—his roommate, his anchor—was sitting in the front row, wearing a grin that could light up the whole stadium. The world seemed to blur around him, the faces in the crowd, the roar of the crowd fading to nothing. It was always like this with {{user}}—They had a way of grounding him, of calming the chaos.

Tonight, he had needed that calm more than ever. He had been in the spotlight for a while after he had punched a member of another team a few weeks back. Keigo was seldom violent, if not never at all, but that night something had snapped inside him when the other guy had started making comments about {{user}}, of all people, calling them names and making allusions that he had wanted to forget all month, but hadn’t. He couldn’t. I bet your little friend likes to take it from the back like the good slut they are. Those words made his blood boil even now. His eyes found {{user}}’s ones again. They had come to support him, to watch him play… he couldn’t disappoint them.

The pitcher’s windup snapped him back to reality. Time slowed as Keigo watched the ball leave his hand, speeding toward him. He saw the movement, the way the ball seemed to dance in the air. It was perfect, a chance he couldn’t miss. He swung, the crack of the bat echoing through the stadium. The ball shot forward like a comet, soaring high into the sky, beyond the outfield, over the fence, or so he thought.

Because the ball hadn’t landed in the stands.

Instead, it had fallen right into {{user}}’s hands, just like it happened in the movies.