Chapter Text
"please turn the pages for me
you seem so free
you know i’m barely
barely…”
"contact”, big thief
The ball flew off the keen blade of the axe, and in the span of a blink thunked satisfyingly in the catcher’s mitt.
“Game over! Firefighters win 3-2.”
Rivers Rosa relaxed on the mound, letting her axe arm drop for the first time in nine innings. It was strange, she thought. By all rights that should’ve been an easy pitch for any batter to hit, straight down the plate and not too fast. As soon as it had left her axe she’d been preparing herself for the jeers of shame. Instead, it passed over the plate without incident. The batter hadn’t swung at all.
Had she even been looking?
***
“Just let it go, Rosa!”
Her teammate Lou was the only other person in the Firefighters dugout so long after the game. Lou Roseheart was a good fielder, a better friend, and had the most tolerance on the team for Rosa’s frequent sulking sessions.
Her shadow was a piece of work though.
Rivers turned behind her to confirm that, in fact, Lou’s shadow was giving her own bunny ears with two fingers. She shooed it away with a hand and it slunk back across the ground to take its place behind Lou.
“Real mature.”
“Sorry,” laughed Lou, “it’s just trying to cheer you up!”
“She hasn’t moved.”
“Hm?”
Lou turned to look where Rivers was glaring: directly at the batter, still standing at the plate, goggles hanging around her neck, stock still in the same position she’d been in when the game had ended an hour ago.
Rivers spit a peanut shell on the ground beside her. “What’s her name anyway?”
Lou gave her a look. “We’ve been in the same division as the Crabs for like three seasons now, you’re telling me you don’t know their players?”
Things had been pretty hectic since their team had won the championship, and being placed in the same division as the Crabs certainly didn’t make things easier. Rivers wondered sarcastically if they knew how hard their penchant for stealing bases made her life as a pitcher. When your only goal was to get in and out, having a parade of half-shelled sprinters scuttling around behind your back was… annoying, to say the least.
Rivers spat out the other half of her shell.
“Why bother?” she responded. “Not like it matters when I’m pitching to them.”
Lou sighed. “You know Rosa, maybe you’d have more fun if you didn’t insist on having such a downer attitude about everything.”
“Just tell me her name, Lou.”
“Okay, geez! No need to get worked up over it. Dreamy. Sutton Dreamy.”
Hm. She thought she’d heard the name once or twice. She narrowed her eyes.
“What’re you staring at her like that for?” said Lou.
“Ugh. Just look at her. She’s so...”
Annoying. Aggravating. Indifferent. Rivers fumbled for a word. She scrutinized Dreamy. Her hair floated around her head in a cloud seemingly untouched by gravity. Her lips were slightly parted, a thin gap between the front two teeth showing slightly through. Unused night vision goggles hung around her neck (Rivers heard they didn’t actually help that much). Her shirt was parted to show a wide swath of the mesh shirt underneath, tucked into her baggy baseball pants.
“She’s so-”
“Hot?” offered Lou.
“HOT! I mean God DAMN" agreed Rosa. Now she remembered where she’d heard the name. Sutton Dreamy, voted “Miss Blaseball” at least three separate times. Jessica Telephone had the fanbase, and an arresting, jocular charm. Boyfriend Monreal had an emotional intelligence that bordered on the preternatural. But Sutton?
Well. There was just something about the girl.
“Want me to talk to her for you?” grinned Lou.
“WH- What?? Her? Me? Why would you even-”
“Quiet down, you’re making a scene.” Rivers took a breath and felt a burning rise to her cheeks. It tinged her dark complexion a slight red. She turned to Lou, suddenly uncomfortable holding her gaze on the still-motionless Dreamy.
“What in the world makes you think I would want that?”
“Rosa, you’ve been staring at her for more than an hour.”
“I’m trying to figure out why she’s still out there!”
“Granted, that is weird. But the point remains that you have the hots for her.”
“Do not!” pouted Rosa. “I have NO hots for her, in fact I find her incredibly annoying. I mean, who does she think she is, standing out there like she couldn’t care less the whole team’s depending on her? The least she could do would be to chase a pitch every once in a while or hell even look at one, I mean granted half the time you can’t even tell anymore because of those goggles-”
“Rosa, honey,” said Lou. “I know you. And I know that when you don’t want to process an emotion you just label it as ‘annoying’ and move on.”
“I do not! God, you can be so annoying sometimes.”
Lou smirked at her, and Lou’s shadow held its hand to its mouth and snickered.
“Oh shut up, that is not-”
“I need to speak to you.”
A sudden voice from the dark of the Firefighters dugout caused the three of them - Rivers, Lou, and Lou’s shadow - to jump startled to their feet. There, in the shade cast by the sun’s lengthening rays by the dugout overhang, illuminated faintly by a light that had no discernable source, was Sutton Dreamy.
Rosa glanced back to the field. It was empty.
“How’d she get in here?” said Lou out of the side of her mouth. The door to the dugout was behind them, so there was no way Dreamy could’ve gotten past.
“Thank you for reaching out to me,” said Sutton, striding towards them. “Your case seems difficult but I am honorbound to accept.”
Rivers blinked. Sutton was looking at her. “M- me? But I didn’t-”
Sutton shook her head and stopped close, far too close in front of Rosa. “Not you,” she said. She spoke confidently and without variation in tone or pitch. “The you within you.”
“H- huh?” stammered Rosa. Dreamy was really close to her now, gazing slightly down at her with a gaze focused at a point that felt slightly behind her head.
“You mean like, her spirit?” offered Lou.
“No. But if it helps, yes.” Dreamy refocused on the spot behind - or maybe slightly above Rosa. “Fear not. I heard your somnic cry and am offering my stewardship. Now, give me your hands.”
“What!?” yelped Rivers. “Hold on a second, I didn’t cry or reach out or anything, I just-”
Sutton shook her head. “I heard it all the way from the plate. Quite the Kolm-complex signal but my backlogs are clear now and I need your hands to commence guidance.”
Rivers shot a glance at Lou as if to say What is this girl TALKING about?
Lou returned a glance saying I don’t know, but you get to hold hands with a pretty girl?
Rivers rolled her eyes. Some help. She gulped.
Well, if it’ll get her to go away…
She held out her hands and Sutton grabbed them with her own. They were warm, which Rosa guessed made sense, seeing as she’d been out in the non-eclipsed sun for a while. Slender too, so unlike her own hands, and tipped with iridescent purple lacquer.
“You have a preoccupation, you see. And your mind’s focal point prepends destiny.” Her words started to drive forward, carrying Rivers away with their force. She was close enough that her scent filtered up - faint lavender and vanilla. How was it so sweet after nine innings?
“But don’t worry. All things can be averted. I just have to-” For the first time, Sutton faltered, wincing and dropping her eyes to meet Rosa’s, a look of worry passing her features. Her eyes were an endless brown: someone’s favorite coffee flavor, and just as warm. And for a moment Rosa felt the purely irrational compulsion to take the girl in her arms and protect her from all harm, make sure that such a dismal face never crossed her features again.
Instead, she cleared her throat slightly. “Um, you don’t really have to worry about it that much.”
“But, when I heard you call-”
“Not sure what you heard, but I’m fine, see?” She flashed Sutton a smile as if to prove her point. The girl seemed unconvinced but her face brightened a bit. Rosa flipped her hands over to grab Sutton’s and a silence unburdened by prophecy fell over the dugout.
“Hey, Sutton? You in there?” The reverie was broken by the voice of a pale red-haired man poking his head around the dugout entrance.
“Kennedy.” Dreamy pulled her hands away, leaving Rosa’s hanging in air.
“What’re you doing in here? Come on, we need your help loading up Axel and Nagomi.” Now addressing Lou and Rivers: “Sorry about her, she tends to go where she wants.”
“Oh, no problem at all,” said Lou. “She was just trying to, um. Help us, I think?”
“Yeah, she’ll do that.” Kennedy Loser stepped into the dugout, tripped slightly on the last step, recovered, and rubbed the back of his head. “Hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”
He stepped around Lou and Rosa with an ‘ope’ and laid a hand on Sutton’s shoulder. His exceedingly normal and more than a bit awkward presence served to diffuse the tension in the room as Sutton Dreamy walked out ahead of him.
“Um,” she said, without turning around. “Forget what I said. It turns out you are fine, actually. Like you said. My mistake.”
“N- no problem…” said Rivers Rosa, still very much unconvinced.
“Good luck in game two!” yelled Kennedy behind him with a wave. And with that, the two Crabs were gone, leaving only their absence behind.
“Whew. Definitely a bit of an oddball, that one. Well, I guess it takes all kinds, huh? Especially in a splort like this. Right, Rosa?”
“H- huh?” She hadn’t really been listening.
“Um. Rosa?”
“W- what is it?”
“You can put your hands down now. It’s kinda weird.”
She realized she’d been holding her hands exactly where they’d been and flung them to her sides, ducking her head behind the brim of her ballcap to try and hide the blush running rampant over her face.
“Still, it seems like you two hit it off pretty well,” said Lou, grin growing across her face.
“I mean, I guess. Not really sure what she wanted.” Rosa bent over to pick up her axe.
“Remember though, they’re still the enemy! Can’t let a little crush get in the way of your pitching- Woah!”
Lou stepped nimbly backwards, dodging the swing of the axe.
“Careful with that thing Rosa! You could’ve killed me!”
“Whaaat? No way…” smiled Rosa, sweetly. “You probably would’ve lived…”
“You’re bad news, you know that?” said Lou, catching her breath.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s catch up with everyone else.” She swung the axe over her shoulder and stepped out of the dugout as Lou grabbed her bag. She stepped into the evening light and looked at the plate where Sutton had been for so long, now crisscrossed by the shadow pattern of chain link fences.
It was going to be a long series.