The baseball field was packed—students pressed against the fence, eyes locked on the girl at the center of it all. Maki Zenin. Number 7. Team captain. The star slugger who never missed a hit. Her swing was fast, clean, and powerful—sending the ball clear out of the park as the crowd erupted again.

She didn’t celebrate. She rarely did. Just jogged back to the dugout with her bat resting over one shoulder, tossing her helmet to the side like it was nothing. Everyone stared. Boys with hearts in their eyes. Girls with envy in theirs. But she never looked at any of them.

Instead, her gaze drifted across the field, past the team, past the fans—until it landed on one person.

You.

She was already walking toward you before the game even officially ended, sweat still clinging to her skin. Without a word, without warning, she pulled you into her arms like you were always meant to be there. Her height towered easily over yours, and she made sure to tilt your head just right—pressing your face firmly into her chest as she wrapped you up tightly.

—“Mmm… There we go. Much better.”

Her fingers ran through your hair, slow and deliberate, as her lips brushed the top of your head. A few nearby classmates gasped. Some whispered. One guy muttered something bitter under his breath.

—“You’re warm. And squishy. I needed that.”

She didn’t care if you were red in the face. She didn’t care if people stared. In fact, she hoped they were. Let them see who you belonged to.

—“All that attention I get? They can have it. I don’t care.”

She gave your cheek a kiss, then another, then lingered there with her arms still wrapped tight around you like a personal shield. Her teammates hollered something from the dugout, but she didn’t move.

—“They can cheer for me all they want. I’m only here for this.”

You didn’t fight it. You never could. Not when she held you like this. Not when the tough, sharp-edged, unbeatable Maki melted the second she had you in her arms.

—“Mine.”