The photo op was over, the players had gone back to warmups, and the delegation had finally been allowed to disappear through the VIP gate.
For about ten minutes, Kevin thought he might actually get to watch baseball.
Then the stadium lights dimmed.
He looked up at the Jumbotron.
His own face filled it.
Kevin stopped chewing.
“Oh, no.”
The live camera held on him for several seconds before cutting to the hallway footage from that morning.
The packed stadium heard him say it again.
“I said no. It sexualizes her, demeans the aesthetic, and just reinforces bad behavior towards Loli girls everywhere. We’re done.”
The video ended.
For perhaps half a second, the stadium was silent.
Then it roared.
Kevin sat frozen while thirty thousand people applauded something he had done several hours earlier without knowing anyone outside the hallway would ever care.
Chem leaned around Y’kem.
“Your lips look good that big.”
Kevin covered his face.
MJ was already recording him.
“Don’t.”
“I missed my embarrassment video this morning. I’m collecting alternatives.”
The Jumbotron switched back to Kevin.
Someone in production added:
THE GREY SHOGUN
Kevin lowered his hands just long enough to look at the screen.
“I hate Japan.”
D’stan patted his shoulder.
“You’ll get over it.”
Then the stadium announcer started introducing the teams, and baseball mercifully rescued him.
Seven innings of almost nothing
The first seven innings took surprisingly little time.
No hits.
Five walks between both clubs.
No runs.
No errors.
Just pitching, defense and increasingly irritated hitters.
Kevin loved it.
By the fourth inning, he was leaning forward whenever a pitcher got two strikes.
By the fifth, Y’kem had learned enough of the home crowd’s chants to join them enthusiastically despite wearing the wrong team colors.
MJ divided her attention between the game and the uriko moving through the aisles.
“I need pictures.”
Chem stared at her.
“You didn’t need pictures when I was serving beer on the twelfth.”
“You were busy.”
“I was cute.”
“You’re always cute.”
Chem accepted this.
Mizuki Hainako, Kyoto’s center fielder and the younger sister of Kayumi Hainako, had MJ’s particular attention.
MJ had watched Kayumi all through the previous season. Mizuki was the unknown quantity.
She had batted fifth for Kyoto.
Her first plate appearance ended in a fly ball to right.
Her second was a walk.
Her third ended with a ground ball that nearly found the gap before the Stars shortstop cut it off.
Defensively, however, she was already earning MJ’s approval.
In the sixth, a Tokyo hitter finally produced something that looked capable of breaking the no-hitter.
A sinking liner sailed into shallow center.
Mizuki charged.
She caught it inches above the grass.
MJ jumped out of her seat.
“Yes!”
Kevin looked over.
“You sound surprised.”
“I wanted evidence.”
“You’ve been watching her sister for a year.”
“Different sister.”
“Apparently baseball scouting is where you finally discovered standards.”
MJ threw a piece of popcorn at him.
The seventh ended the way most of the game had gone.
Three up.
Three down.
Still no hits.
Still no runs.
The scoreboard looked absurdly clean.
KYOTO 0
TOKYO 0
Y’kem studied it.
“My batting average remains higher than everyone playing tonight.”
Kevin turned slowly toward him.
“You had four at-bats.”
“.500.”
“One game.”
“Two RBI per game.”
“One game.”
Y’kem smiled.
“The statistics remain accurate.”
Eighth inning
Kyoto’s seventh hitter came to the plate first.
The count went 2–1.
The next pitch stayed over the plate.
The bat cracked.
Everyone stood.
The ball climbed toward left field.
The Stars left fielder reached the wall, looked up, and stopped.
Gone.
The first hit of the game was a home run.
KYOTO 1
TOKYO 0
Kevin came out of his seat yelling with the Kyoto fans around him.
MJ stared at him.
“You’ve been a Sun supporter for less than five hours.”
“I chose wisely.”
“You chose whichever uniform looked least like the Yankees.”
“Same thing.”
Kyoto got nothing else.
Three outs later, the Stars came up in the bottom of the eighth needing one run.
Then the game stopped being quiet.
Their first hitter finally broke through with a single.
The next drove another into right.
Runners at first and second.
A walk loaded the bases.
No outs.
The stadium was suddenly standing.
Y’kem looked at the three illuminated bases on the scoreboard.
“That seems bad.”
“For Kevin,” MJ said.
Kevin ignored her.
The next batter popped up behind second.
One out.
The following hitter drove a sharp ground ball toward third.
Kyoto’s third baseman grabbed it, stepped on the bag and fired toward first.
The runner beat the throw.
Two outs.
Bases still loaded.
Mizuki shifted deeper in center.
Kevin leaned against the rail.
The count went 1–2.
Foul.
2–2.
Another foul.
Then 3–2.
The Stars crowd came to its feet.
The pitch came in.
The batter turned on it.
The sound was different.
MJ was standing before anyone around her moved.
“Oh shit.”
The ball climbed toward deep center.
Mizuki was already running.
Back.
Still back.
Warning track.
She reached the wall, turned, found the ball over her shoulder and caught it.
Three outs.
Three runners left on base.
Kyoto still led 1–0.
MJ screamed.
“I told you!”
Kevin looked at her.
“You said you needed evidence.”
“That was excellent evidence.”
Mizuki tossed the ball toward the infield and jogged back toward the dugout.
The Kyoto section chanted her name.
Ninth inning
Kyoto’s number two hitter led off.
Groundout.
One away.
The number three hitter drew a walk.
The cleanup hitter came up next.
He worked the count full before striking out swinging.
Two outs.
That brought Mizuki Hainako to the plate.
Her fourth plate appearance of the night.
MJ sat forward.
Kevin stopped talking.
The first pitch missed outside.
Ball one.
The second caught the bottom of the zone.
Strike.
Mizuki fouled the third straight back.
One and two.
The pitcher tried to finish her with something away.
Mizuki let it go.
Two and two.
The next pitch came in higher than intended.
Mizuki turned on it.
The sound came through the stadium before Kevin really registered the swing.
The ball went straight toward center.
Kevin stood.
MJ stood.
The entire Kyoto section rose behind them.
The Tokyo center fielder backed toward the wall.
Still going.
Warning track.
Wall.
The ball disappeared over it.
Home run.
KYOTO 2
TOKYO 0
Mizuki rounded first while the stadium erupted around her.
MJ was screaming.
Chem was jumping beside her.
D’stan had somehow acquired a Kyoto Sun flag and was waving it violently.
Y’kem grabbed Kevin around the shoulders.
Kevin had both hands over his head.
The Jumbotron cut away from Mizuki.
Straight to Kevin.
He saw himself smiling like an idiot thirty meters high.
Underneath him appeared:
HUSBANDO POWER?
Kevin’s smile vanished.
“Oh, fuck you.”
MJ doubled over laughing.
Tokyo went quietly in the bottom of the ninth.
Groundout.
Strikeout.
Fly ball to right.
Game.
KYOTO SUN 2
TOKYO STARS 0
Two Kyoto hits.
Two home runs.
Postgame
Mizuki Hainako was still flushed when a field reporter caught her near the dugout.
They talked first about baseball.
Her catch in the eighth.
The pitch she hit in the ninth.
The difficulty of staying ready in center field through seven hitless innings.
Then the reporter smiled.
“You may not know this, but Kevin Wood has been wearing Kyoto colors all evening.”
Mizuki looked toward the delegation.
Kevin was still standing near the rail.
“I noticed.”
“He told reporters earlier that he selected Kyoto because he refused to wear anything resembling Yankees colors.”
Mizuki laughed.
“Good reason.”
The reporter gestured toward center field.
“That home run just cleared the wall. Did having the Grey Shogun cheering for you provide any assistance?”
Mizuki considered the question with an expression of absolute seriousness.
“Yes.”
The reporter laughed.
“Really?”
“I think Kevin’s husbando energy propelled it the last meter over the wall.”
Kevin heard it over the stadium speakers.
He closed his eyes.
MJ screamed.
Chem grabbed Sael to keep from falling over.
Y’kem slapped Kevin on the back.
“You have baseball powers.”
“I did nothing.”
“That,” Sael said, “has not stopped anyone today.”
The Jumbotron replayed Mizuki’s home run.
The ball sailed toward center.
The image froze just above the wall.
A ridiculous shimmering grey trail appeared behind it.
Then the screen switched to Kevin.
HUSBANDO ENERGY CONFIRMED
Kevin stared upward.
The crowd started chanting.
Not Mizuki’s name.
His.
He dropped back into his seat.
“I miss Mall.”
MJ already had her phone out.
“She needs to see this.”
“MJ.”
“She really does.”
“Do not send her that.”
MJ hit send.
Kevin watched the message disappear.
Then looked back at the Jumbotron, where his face was still thirty meters tall.
Somewhere between the hallway that morning and the center-field wall tonight, the internet had apparently decided Kevin Wood was a romantic ideal with supernatural influence over baseballs.
He had a feeling Mall was going to find that very funny.
