Chapter Text
He didn’t pay too much attention to his contract when he was traded, a fact that he severely regretted when he was called over for yet another interview. He hated every last media appearance and would much rather never be interviewed ever again.
As he walked over, he briefly considered throwing some of his starts. They wouldn’t interview him if he was bad. He’d also probably also be traded to a different team, maybe even to the other league. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.
“Kozume-san, are you ready for the interview?” the sideline reporter asked, turning her microphone on.
“Considering I don’t have a choice, I guess so,” he said with an aloof shrug.
“God, I wish I got that broadcast job,” she said, shooting him a look, “Ready?”
The cameramen nodded and counted down from five with their fingers. Kenma couldn’t help the fact he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to be there.
“Good afternoon, I’m Yamamoto Akane and I am here with Yomiuri Giants’ pitcher Kozume Kenma,” she said, “It’s a beautiful day for a cross-league game hosted by the Giants. So Kozume-san, do you have any thoughts about how to defeat the Seibu Lions today?”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” he said, crossing his arms, “They’re terrible this year.”
She waited a short minute for him to continue, but he didn’t say anything, so she continued on.
“You’ve been making headlines recently, and not just because of your streak of eight shut-out starts including one no-no against the Tigers last week,” she said, “You’ve gone viral for your comments about being traded to the Central League. Would you like to take a second to clear up the controversy?”
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do so,” he said with a respectful nod, “I absolutely meant that shit. I do not want to play in the Central League. Having to bat as a pitcher in 2022 is honestly ridiculous and I’m tired of it. Hell, the Buffaloes are below .500 and I’d rather play there just so I can get out of the damn Central League.”
“Cut,” one of the cameramen said, waving his arms, “Kozume-san, even though there is a five minute delay between this recording and air, you cannot swear. Please continue when you’re ready.”
“Honestly the Baseball Network can go fuck itself for all I care,” Kenma said, popping some sunflower seeds into his mouth.
“Just one more question. Are you able to handle that?” she asked, “Or are you going to continue to throw a temper-tantrum?”
“Take a wild guess,” he said, spitting two sunflower seed shells into the grass.
“Excellent,” she said, “Cameras ready?”
Both men shot her a thumbs up and Kenma resisted the urge to roll his eyes once more.
“We happened to notice that in every one of the previous games you’ve played against a team with Kuroo-san on it, one or both of you have been thrown out of the game,” she said, “Can you give us a little insight into why?”
“I hate him,” Kenma said, “He’s an all-around bastard.”
“Well, it’s been nice interviewing with you today Kozume-san, I’m sure we have at least two airable seconds of your answers.”
“Cool,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute before popping more seeds into his mouth, turning around, and strutting away.
He breathed in and out, resetting his stance on the mound. When he was a lot younger, he played with the batter in front of him and therefore knew his batting quirks like the back of his hand. He was a skilled player, that Akaashi Keiji, disciplined, would never swing at a wild pitch, but he did have his downfalls. His keen judgement had a blindspot for high and outside pitches, so that’s where he focused on throwing.
He sent one right over the corner, and the batter didn’t swing. The umpire, clearly an idiot, called it a ball, so Kenma did what any self-respecting pitcher would do and threw his hands up in frustration, remarking that the umpire needed glasses. The umpire gave him a verbal warning and Kenma went back onto the rubber, already focused on his next pitch.
This pitch was off-speed and had a bit of a curve. Throwing off-speed to Akaashi Keiji took a whole lot of guts, but Kenma didn’t believe in guts. He didn’t need them when he could use sound logic instead. Akaashi Keiji couldn’t hit curveballs.
True to his estimate, the ball was popped up high, almost directly to the third baseman, for an out. That was his second out of the inning after striking out hothead Tanaka Ryuunosuke. He only needed one more.
Kenma’s next batter was no different when it came to his approach. He was well aware of Kuroo Tetsurou’s weak spots when it came to batting. He was far too impulsive and always swung for the fences. He never walked and often struck out, but when he did hit the ball, it was sure to be sent out of the park.
Kenma’s catcher signaled for a sinker a bit outside. It was a good call, what Kenma should have done if he was trying to strike the batter out, but he made a significantly different decision.
He took a deep breath, set up his windup, and pitched a scathing ball high and inside, causing the batter to jump back. The batter unsurprisingly sent him a warning glare. Kenma just smirked in response.
Noticing the expression, his catcher, Fukunaga Shohei, called for a mound visit and jogged over to Kenma.
“How about you don’t get thrown out in the first inning?” he recommended.
“I think he should plunk his ass,” first baseman, Suguru Daishou, suggested on the contrary.
“Oh, I’m gonna plunk him alright,” Kenma said with a shrug, “The issue is more whether it gets me thrown out or not.”
“Please don’t,” Fukunaga begged.
“Unlikely,” Kenma said, “Now fuck off so I can pitch.”
“Yes, your royal heinous,” Fukunaga said with an exaggerated bow. The clip of it happening would surely go viral by the end of the game.
“It’s royal highness,” Suguru pointed out.
“It was a pun, you idiot,” Kenma responded.
After shooing his unwanted team members off the mound, Kenma went back to focusing on the tall, messy-haired, firebrand of a batter before him.
He took a deep breath, resetting his windup, and threw, making sure to stumble awkwardly off the rubber to make it look like a bad release. He didn’t even have to look up to know that it hit its mark; he heard the sound of a ball hitting thigh and stifled a laugh.
Kuroo dropped his bat and threw his helmet off, ready to charge the mound. He made it exactly one step into his sprint before the next player in the batting order, shortstop Kai Nobuyuki, grabbed a fistful of the back of his jersey, holding him back.
Kozume Kenma grinned and beckoned the batter to charge the mound after all, but Kuroo took the high road, jogging to first base instead.
When Kenma said he wanted out of the Central League, he meant it. He hated having to bat. He wanted to be traded back to the Pacific League so badly, particularly, he wanted to move to Saitama and play for the Seibu Lions.
He spit some shells out into the grass before tightening his batting gloves and setting up at the plate.
Normally, he would just swing at the first pitch, popping it up for an out as he slow-jogged to first base, but he needed to get on base. There was something he needed to accomplish.
The pitcher he was facing was fairly new and Kenma didn’t know much about him. Who he did know, however, was the catcher, rookie Hinata Shouyou, who was incredibly easy to bait. Kenma would get on base while ignoring the pitcher entirely, a strategy usually only successful in little league.
Kenma bent down into his stance, choked up on the bat and waited for the pitch. It was high and outside and yet he kept his swing short and contained. He did the same thing with the next pitch, a wicked knuckleball, and smiled to himself. He could already feel the novice catcher inching closer and closer to the plate.
Kenma almost failed his strategy when he didn’t swing at a fastball that painted the lower outside corner, but the umpire called it a ball. Apparently the umpire’s strike zone was tiny, probably like something else of his. Kenma would have paid more attention to the strike zone for his own pitching strategy, but he knew he wouldn’t need to.
The next pitch was coming at him, and things went according to plan, he changed to a normal grip and swung as wide as he could, his bat making contact with the novice catcher’s glove. Kenma straight up grinned as catcher’s interference was called.
For a second, Kenma, uncharacteristically, happily jogged to the base, tossing his bat towards the dugout. As soon as he got to the base, he made fun of the first baseman for popping up a curveball like he always did when he was young, but Kenma’s focus was already somewhere else, not on the taunt.
He looked the second baseman up and down, making sure to smirk when he looked over. Kuroo Tetsurou didn’t usually play second base, but with starter Yaku Morisuke out with an ankle injury, he was moved from first base to fill in. He was the definition of a utility player. Hell, the only position he couldn’t play was pitcher, but only because he was far too fiery.
All Kenma had left to do was wait and hope that things went his way. He needed his catcher to come through for him and hit between second and third base. Fukunaga was a precision batter, able to place the ball anywhere he wanted. Luckily for Kenma, it seemed like he was aiming toward third base.
The glee Kenma felt in his chest was unmatched as he heard the crack of ball on bat and ran faster than he ever had.
Unsurprisingly, he didn’t beat Kuroo Tetsurou to the bag, but he was there just in time to slide straight into him, knocking him off balance.
It wasn’t long before they scrambled to their feet, Kuroo launching a sloppy punch that missed its mark and Kenma trying to swing right back at him. He missed the punch, but pushed his arms forward into the man’s chest, knocking him backwards. On his second attempt at landing a punch, he felt a firm grasp from behind him, pinning both of his arms behind his back and pulling him back.
“Let me at him,” Kenma insisted gruffly, looking up at Kuroo, who was being similarly restrained, “Someone’s gotta put this fuck where he belongs.”
“Come at me, asshole,” Kuroo spat as his team started to flock to the infield, creating a wall between the two. Kenma noticed that his own team hadn’t bothered to leave the dugout, which was entirely fair. He didn’t deserve their support.
“What’s wrong? Still sour over your bruised thigh?” Kenma sneered, “Poor baby.”
“Hey! You fu-“ Kuroo started before being cut off by the head umpire throwing both of them out of the game. Kuroo started arguing with the umpires, insisting he didn’t do anything wrong, but eventually gave in, making his way to his team’s locker room.
Kenma didn’t even try to pretend he was upset, smiling as he walked off the field. His work was done for the day. He was going to hear about it later, and probably even be fined, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. He had the most expensive contract in baseball after all.
Kenma crept out of the clubhouse, doing his absolute best to avoid the people who were there to scold him. He didn’t really mind them, and they all had an unspoken agreement that Kenma didn’t particularly care whether or not he was told off. It was by no means new nor a secret, so after their mandatory ‘discussion’, he snuck out.
Being that it was his home stadium, he knew exactly where to find the opponents’ locker room. It was time to finish what he had started with Kuroo Tetsurou.
He slipped into the locker room, figuring that the normally rather respectful player would have had a significantly shorter talk about his behavior. It wasn’t like he often got into trouble; It was only ever when he was playing against Kenma. He might have been an impulsive player, and he always played hard, but he was respectful about it- essentially the polar opposite of Kenma.
Kenma felt a thrill go through his chest when he heard that the shower was on. While Kuroo knew he would eventually be coming by, he wouldn’t be able to hear Kenma walk in; It would be a stealth attack of sorts.
He tried to be quiet as he opened the door to the shower stall, but he accidentally shut it hard behind him, alerting Kuroo.
“Hey sweets,” Kuroo said, his head popping out from behind the shower curtain to place a kiss on his forehead, “Took you long enough.”
“Mm,” Kenma said, giving him a quick kiss before stripping off his clothes and joining Kuroo in the shower, “I guess I have a delightful meeting with the owner later this week. A step up from just the manager.”
“You could avoid that by not being a shithead,” Kuroo recommended, turning up the temperature of the shower. He knew Kenma preferred it hot enough to scald himself.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Kenma asked, wetting his long hair. Kuroo washed out his own shampoo and grabbed the bottle of shampoo for dyed hair from the shower shelf. He lathered it in his hands and began to work it through Kenma’s hair.
“You know what? Be more of a shithead. If you end up without a contract we might be able to finally live together,” Kuroo pointed out, his soapy hands moving down to rub Kenma’s shoulders.
Kenma would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered it on multiple occasions. Really, the drive between their places wasn’t insurmountable, but considering that it was a little under an hour by train, it wasn’t exactly convenient either. He longed to move in with Kuroo. Frankly, if Kuroo proposed to him in that very moment from the shower floor, he probably would have said yes. Kenma was irrevocably in love, the gentle, unwavering kind where there was nothing else he’d rather do than be wrapped in his lover’s arms. He was fueled by kisses on fingers and good morning texts, borrowed clothing and morning breath.
“Not a chance,” Kenma said, spinning around to place a soapy kiss on his boyfriend’s chest, “Trying to physically fight on live television so we can spend time together is significantly more romantic than living together and getting married.”
“You’ll marry me one day, Kozume Kenma,” Kuroo said, tilting the showerhead to spray him in the face, “Mark my words.”
“I refuse,” Kenma said, pouting as he wiped the water out of his eyes.
“You’ll fall for my irresistible charm eventually,” Kuroo insisted, grabbing the loofah and body wash from Kenma’s hands.
He flipped the container open and poured it onto the loofah, the smell making him smile. It smelled like Kenma. He began scrubbing up and down Kenma’s body, leaving small kisses behind the soapy strokes. Kenma pretended not to notice that Kuroo that had probably cleaned every inch of him twice. Even though the water was always at an awkward angle because of their height difference, there were few things he loved more than showering with his partner. The warm water and gentle touches fueled him and there was nothing he liked more than running his hands through Kuroo’s hair, working the conditioner into it.
“Did you already finish up before I got here?” Kenma asked, praying the answer was ‘no.’
“I did,” Kuroo said, wrapping his arms around Kenma from behind and squeezing.
“Gotcha,” he responded, turning off the water.
Kuroo got out of the shower, toweling off, while Kenma bent over to wring out his long hair. It’d never dry otherwise.
“Here, love,” Kuroo said, handing him two towels. It took them both a few minutes and a lot of forehead kisses to finish getting dried off and dressed, “So where to?”
“I stole the keys to one of the staff lounges,” Kenma said with a grin. He watched as his boyfriend pulled on a hoodie, reminding him he hadn’t stolen nearly enough of his clothing lately.
“You’re just trying to get yourself fired, aren’t you?” Kuroo asked, hanging the towels off of his open locker door.
“Don’t be silly,” Kenma responded with a shrug, “I’m way too good to get fired.”
The two walked quietly, Kuroo following Kenma down the winding hallways in the underbelly of the stadium until he stopped at a door and jammed a key into it.
Kuroo’s face lit up when he saw the enormous couches and the smorgasbord of food, liquor, and sports drinks in the corner of the room. He made a beeline for the freezer, rooting through it, and grabbing two ice cream cones. They were Kenma’s absolute favorite.
“For you, my love,” he said, pulling the wrapper off of one and handing it to him.
“Thank you,” Kenma said, immediately biting into the chocolate covered treat, “And check this out.”
He clicked on a large tv that was automatically set to play the game. They needed to be able to keep track of it so they could return to their respective locker room and clubhouse if there were any more ejections or the game was nearing its end.
Kuroo nodded and started in on his own ice cream. The two wolfed down the dessert; They probably should have grabbed an actual meal. As soon as the wrappers were tucked into the garbage can, Kuroo got up and grabbed six darts from the pocket of the dartboard on the wall.
“I’ve actually never played,” Kenma told him, grabbing the red darts, nonetheless.
“I’ll just have to show you then,” Kuroo responded, a twinkle in his eye.
“Isn’t it pretty self explanatory?” Kenma asked, taking a step back and firing the dart. It solidly hit the board, not particularly close to the middle, but it wasn’t a terrible shot either.
“You’re doing it all wrong,” Kuroo said, his voice taking on a low tone, “Let me show you.”
He strode right behind Kenma, making sure to press his chest into Kenma’s back as he wrapped his arms around Kenma’s. He placed a kiss on the side of his neck, adjusted the angle of Kenma’s hand, and then they threw the dart together.
It clattered to the floor after smacking sideways into the wall.
“That was terrible,” Kenma said, trying to turn his head around to look at his boyfriend, “It looks like I didn’t need your help after all.”
“I never said I was any good at darts,” Kuroo pointed out, kissing the side of his forehead, “You were definitely not doing it right, but to be fair, I also don’t know how to do it right.”
Kenma snorted
“Together we are truly unstoppable.”
The first time Kenma said he wanted to pay extra to get one of the small private rooms on the train, Kuroo thought he was insane. It wasn’t that either of them would have trouble affording it, but it just seemed like a waste of money. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
On the rare occasions they both were taking the train a long distance, it became their tradition to get one of the small private rooms and simply bask in the presence of each other.
Kuroo would sit sideways on the bench, his long legs stretching all the way across, and Kenma would either sit in his lap, or lay facedown and wrap his arms around Kuroo’s waist.
Today was the latter, Kenma’s face nestled into Kuroo’s side, and Kuroo stroked his hair, over and over, his other hand placed gently between his shoulder blades as they listened to the sounds of the train and felt it’s gentle clacking as it went along.
Kenma’s phone going off would have startled them if they weren’t in such an overwhelmingly peaceful state. He looked down to see that the number that broke through his do not disturb setting was his manager’s number. He sighed quietly. He was probably about to get some unfortunate news, but maybe it’d just be a scolding.
“Give me a second,” Kenma murmured, feeling like using his whole voice would ruin the serene vibe. Kuroo gave Kenma’s hair a final stroke before moving both of his arms out of the way.
Kenma wandered out of the compartment before taking the call, rolling his eyes as he hit the button to accept it.
A few long moments later, he walked back into the compartment, feeling like he was outside of himself as he slowly shut the door behind him. Kuroo was clearly asking him something, probably how the call went, but Kenma couldn’t hear him. He couldn’t hear anything. It was like his brain shut down entirely and there was only one thing he could do.
“Kuro,” Kenma said, cutting off whatever he was asking, his voice oddly clear for his state of disbelief.
“Kenma, what’s-“
He stopped in sheer surprise as Kenma got down on one knee in front of him, his golden eyes staring up at him in awe.
“I don’t have a ring, yet, but please marry me. I’ve never been sure of anything in my life, letting it take me wherever it wants, but not anymore. I want you and just you,” Kenma pleaded, softly, as Kuroo swung his legs around to face him, “I love you. I don’t want to spend another day where we aren’t engaged unless it’s because we’re married. I want you more than anything.”
“Of course,” Kuroo said, a mixture of confusion, bliss, and excitement bursting out of him. He grabbed Kenma’s hands, enveloping them in his own. “But why right now?”
Kenma got off the ground and brought his lips to his fiancé’s, one of his hands gently cupping his cheek.
“I got traded,” Kenma said against his lips before returning to another kiss.
“Traded where?” Kuroo asked, concerned. He pulled back, Kenma’s hand still on his cheek. There were no teams closer to Kuroo’s apartment than the one Kenma was already on. He didn’t want to spend their engagement even further apart. Hell, he didn’t even want to let go of his fiancé’s hand.
“To the Saitama Seibu Lions,” Kenma whispered, “Where we will play together until we retire.”