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Kazuya had been to many baseball camps before, so the whole thing felt routine to him—get invited, play some ball, show off his skills, and make an impression. But this camp was different. It was hosted at Inashiro, and that meant Mei was here.
Not that Kazuya cared. No, really, he didn’t. Mei wasn’t the problem. It was everyone else.
“Welcome to my homefield.”
That was how Mei greeted him, standing right at the entrance, all smug with that annoying smirk. Kazuya had rolled his eyes but let it slide. He was here for baseball, not to deal with Mei’s theatrics.
But what Kazuya wasn’t prepared for was the way the other invited players reacted to Mei.
It was ridiculous. The moment Mei started warming up, the other players froze. Not just the pitchers, but batters, infielders—hell, even catchers. They kept sneaking glances, whispering among themselves, acting as if they were watching a damn celebrity.
"Whoa... that's Narumiya Mei."
"I've only seen him in games before. He's insane in person."
"Do you think we can talk to him later?"
Kazuya rolled his eyes hard as he adjusted his batting gloves. He expected this behavior from middle schoolers seeing their idols for the first time—not elite-level high school players.
Was Mei good? Of course. But acting like he was some untouchable legend? Give Kazuya a break.
He grabbed his bat and stepped into the cage, signaling for someone to throw him a few pitches. He needed to clear his head and focus on his hitting. But even as he stood in the box, gripping his bat, he could still hear them.
"Man, Narumiya's mechanics are flawless. Look at how smooth that motion is."
"He looks even cooler in person, huh?"
"Did you see that last pitch? 152 km/h. Insane."
Kazuya gritted his teeth as he swung at the incoming pitch, sending it deep into the net.
Crack!
He didn’t even celebrate the solid hit—just stepped back and exhaled sharply. Mei, on the other hand, was still in the middle of his practice, throwing pitch after pitch, and of course, looking ridiculously confident while doing it.
The worst part? Mei wasn’t even paying attention to them. He was just doing his own thing, acting like he didn’t notice how half the damn camp was gawking at him.
And that? That really pissed Kazuya off.
The rest of the day went like that. Kazuya busy practicing while the other players around him were still watching Mei like he was some god.
It was beyond irritating at this point. Kazuya wasn’t even looking at Mei, and yet he could feel the attention still centered on the Inashiro ace. It was like every move Mei made dictated the atmosphere of the entire camp.
So, of course, Kazuya wasn’t surprised when, in the middle of practice, Mei decided to take a quick break. What did catch his attention, though, was that instead of going to his teammates—Carlos or Shirakawa—Mei made a beeline straight for him.
Kazuya barely had time to process it before Mei stopped in front of him, grinning like he had just found something particularly amusing.
“Kazuya! Catch for me!” Mei chirped, eyes bright with excitement.
Kazuya, still gripping his bat, rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small smirk from forming on his lips. Of course. It was so typical of Mei to demand something out of nowhere like this.
“Yeah, yeah, later,” Kazuya said, waving him off. “After I bat some more.”
Mei didn’t even hesitate. “Okay!” He grinned and, just as quickly as he had come, turned on his heel and skipped—yes, skipped—back to where Carlos and the others were.
Kazuya sighed, shaking his head.
And then—the murmurs started.
Not even subtle ones.
“Woah… Narumiya-san and Miyuki-san are close?”
“Did you see Narumiya-senpai’s face? He was shining while talking to Seidou’s captain.”
“I didn’t know they were close like that.”
Kazuya exhaled sharply through his nose. Here we go.
Some, of course, weren’t too thrilled about it.
“Tch. Who is he to have the best pitcher talk to him?”
“Seriously? Miyuki-san’s just a catcher.”
Kazuya resisted the urge to laugh. If only these guys knew how long he and Mei had been in each other’s lives. This wasn’t new to him. Mei always had this natural charisma that drew people in, but at the end of the day, he’d still come bothering him like always.
After a few more rounds in the batting cage, Kazuya decided he’d had enough. His swings were solid, his timing was sharp, and most importantly—he needed a break from hearing Mei’s name being whispered around him like some sort of divine entity.
So, without much thought, he switched into his catcher’s gear, strapping on his leg guards and chest protector before adjusting his helmet. The moment he was ready, he walked over to where Mei was.
The Inashiro ace was lounging with Carlos and Shirakawa, drinking water and laughing about something—probably some dumb inside joke. But the second Kazuya stopped in front of him, Mei’s attention snapped to him instantly, as if waiting for this moment.
Kazuya smirked, arms crossed. “Are you sure you want to pitch to your rival, Mei?” His tone was teasing, but there was a glint of challenge in his eyes.
Mei barely even reacted, only rolling his eyes with an exasperated scoff. “Please. As if your team is good enough to beat me.”
Kazuya chuckled. “Cocky as ever.”
“Confident,” Mei corrected smugly as he stood up, stretching his arms before casually making his way to the center of the field. With every step, his presence commanded attention. The moment he occupied the mound, it was like an unspoken announcement to everyone around them.
Kazuya, already expecting this, just shook his head before settling into position behind the plate. He knelt down on one knee, glove extended in front of him, fingers curled slightly as he gave Mei a steady, knowing look.
And just like that, the murmurs started again.
"Wait, they’re really doing this?"
"Narumiya-senpai is pitching to Miyuki-senpai?"
"This is insane, I have to watch this."
Within seconds, the entire camp gravitated toward them, players gathering around to witness the scene. It wasn’t every day you got to see two of the best high school players in the country facing off.
Kazuya, used to attention but not this kind, exhaled slowly. Of course, these guys would jump at the chance to watch Mei pitch. He glanced up at the mound, meeting Mei’s expectant gaze.
Kazuya smirked. “Well? You gonna throw or just stand there looking pretty?”
Mei scoffed. “Shut up and catch, Kazuya.”
And with that, he fired the first pitch.
Crack!
The sound of the ball snapping into Kazuya’s glove echoed across the field. A perfect pitch—precise, powerful, so very Mei.
Kazuya grinned behind his mask, barely flinching at the impact. “Not bad,” he mused, tossing the ball back lazily.
Mei scoffed, flipping his glove up to catch the return throw effortlessly. “Obviously.”
Kazuya settled back into position, holding up his glove again. “Alright, give me a slider next.”
Mei raised an eyebrow, his expression twisting into a dramatic grimace. “Tch. You’re awfully demanding.”
Kazuya smirked. “What? Scared I’ll expose your weaknesses?”
Mei glared, then huffed before winding up and firing the slider Kazuya had requested.
Snap!
Kazuya caught it clean, nodding in satisfaction. “Nice movement. A little more bite on the next one.”
Mei clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. Instead, he just threw again. And again. And again.
Each time, Kazuya gave out specific requests.
“Curveball.” Mei made a face but threw it anyway.
“Now a two-seamer.” Mei groaned but complied.
“Changeup.” “Ugh, why?” But he still did it.
It went on like this, Kazuya dictating the pitches, and Mei responding with exaggerated expressions—rolling his eyes, scrunching his nose, even mock-pouting—but never once refusing.
And through it all, the other players watched in stunned silence.
They weren’t just watching Narumiya Mei throw—they were watching Miyuki Kazuya command him. Watching how Mei, the pitcher that had left so many batters helpless, was listening to Kazuya without question. Watching how Kazuya caught every pitch effortlessly, unfazed, as if they had done this a million times before.
Because, well—they had.
For Kazuya and Mei, this wasn’t some once-in-a-lifetime moment. This wasn’t the “best pitcher and best catcher playing together.”
This was just them.
Like middle school. Like always.
Mei fired another fastball, and Kazuya caught it without even blinking.
Finally, he lowered his glove, looking up at the mound with a smirk. “Satisfied?”
Mei grinned. “Hah. Like you even needed to ask.”
After what felt like an endless stream of pitches, the two of them finally called for a break. Mei stretched his arms above his head, exhaling sharply before plopping down onto a nearby bench. Kazuya followed suit, rolling his shoulders as he sat beside him.
Around them, the other players began to disperse, but the air was still thick with the weight of what had just happened. Even as they walked away, it was obvious they were still captivated—sneaking glances, murmuring to each other in hushed voices.
Kazuya smirked as he leaned back against the bench, tilting his head slightly toward Mei. “Must’ve been nice, huh? All that attention from the other players,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement.
Mei rolled his eyes, not even dignifying that with an immediate response. Instead, he took a long sip from his water bottle before finally speaking.
“I enjoyed it, obviously,” he admitted, because of course he did. Mei thrived under attention. That much was a given.
But then, without hesitation, he added, “But I didn’t care about them.”
Kazuya turned his head slightly, raising an eyebrow.
Mei smirked, looking straight ahead. “I only want the attention of one player here. And he’s right beside me.”
Kazuya blinked.
It was so unexpected—so bluntly honest—that for once, he had nothing to say.
A rare silence stretched between them as Kazuya processed those words, and Mei, for once, didn’t follow it up with a cocky remark or an exaggerated laugh. He just let it sit there.
Kazuya finally recovered with a chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at Mei with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Don’t get cheesy with me now, Mei,” he said, nudging his knee against his. “I might just steal your fans away so they’re looking at me instead of you.”
Mei scoffed, turning to him with a smirk. “What, Kazuya—you jealous?”
Before Kazuya could respond, a player hesitantly approached Mei. From the looks of it, the kid was a catcher from another school—probably one of the many who had been gawking at Mei the entire day.
As soon as the boy walked up to Mei, Kazuya felt something annoying twist in his chest.
It wasn’t the usual irritation he had whenever someone looked too starstruck around Mei. This was different. It was the way the kid stood too close, the way he looked at Mei, the way he spoke to him—like he was hoping for something from him.
And Kazuya hated it.
He wasn’t jealous because he also wanted Mei’s attention. No. That wasn’t it.
He was jealous because he didn’t want anyone talking to Mei at all.
The thought struck him like a fastball to the gut. He wanted to keep Mei away from everyone else. To keep him his.
Kazuya barely managed to keep his expression in check, watching as Mei handled the conversation without much thought. But inside, Kazuya was reeling from the realization.
He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head as Mei continued talking to the boy, completely unaware of what had just clicked in Kazuya’s mind.
The boy fidgeted, clearly nervous, but finally gathered the courage to speak. “U-Um, Narumiya-senpai?”
Mei turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Hah? What?”
The boy gulped but pushed on. “Is it okay if I catch for you next?”
Mei blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Huh?”
Sensing the confusion, the catcher quickly explained, “Umm… aren’t you pitching for all the catchers here? You started with him, right?” He said this while sneaking a glance at Kazuya, as if Kazuya had somehow taken the first turn in a long line of people waiting for Mei’s pitching.
Kazuya, amused, said nothing—just sat back, waiting to see how Mei would handle this.
Mei turned to Kazuya for a second, his expression unreadable, before looking back at the boy. “Nah, sorry,” Mei said flatly. “I’m not.”
The boy’s face fell slightly, but before he could ask why, Mei delivered the finishing blow.
“I only wanted to pitch for Kazuya,” Mei stated, completely serious. “Because he’s the best.”
A stunned silence.
The boy’s expression was downright devastated—a mix of disbelief and crushing rejection.
Kazuya had to physically stop himself from laughing out loud, pressing his fist against his mouth as he disguised his amusement with a cough.
The boy’s face burned with embarrassment as he shifted awkwardly on his feet. “S-Sorry to bother you, Narumiya-senpai…” he mumbled before quickly turning on his heel and scurrying away, clearly desperate to escape the humiliation.
Mei, completely unfazed, just grabbed his water bottle and took a long sip, leaning back against the bench like he hadn’t just crushed someone’s soul.
Kazuya watched him, amused. Mei really didn’t give a damn, did he?
Silence stretched between them for a moment—until Kazuya broke it.
“No.”
Mei turned his head lazily to look at him, brows furrowing. “Hah? No what?”
Kazuya smirked, leaning in just slightly, his voice lower now. “No, I’m not jealous of the attention.”
Mei raised an eyebrow before grinning, like he knew better. “Oh really?” He tilted his head, his usual smugness returning full force. “You know, it’s fine if you wanna reach my level, Kazuya—”
But Kazuya cut him off.
“I’m jealous.”
Mei’s grin faltered slightly.
Kazuya’s smirk widened as he leaned even closer.
“But because they’re admiring what’s mine.”
Kazuya stood up smoothly, stretching his arms over his head as if he hadn’t just said something that could potentially send Mei spiraling. With a lazy smirk still on his lips, he turned and casually walked back toward the field, acting completely unbothered.
Mei, on the other hand, just sat there, his brain taking a solid minute to fully process what had just come out of Kazuya’s mouth.
Wait.
Wait, WHAT?
His head snapped up, eyes wide as he scrambled to his feet. “Wha—what do you mean, Kazuya?!” he shouted, already chasing after him.
Kazuya did not slow down.
Mei stomped after him, growing more frantic. “HEY! Was that a confession?!” His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t care.
Kazuya kept walking, hands tucked into his pockets, completely ignoring him.
And if Mei ended up tackling Kazuya right there on the field in front of everyone, well that was nobody’s business.