Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Teardrops sprinkled upon her hair.

Rain clouds softened the light for the girl’s sky-bound gaze.

A heavy wind caused the fabric on her chest to bubble.

Perched in the far outfield, Tzuyu could only watch.

Jihyo ran to her girlfriend.

Mina ran to her wife.

Jeongyeon, Chaeyoung, and Dahyun, all waved to their partners in the bleachers.

Why now?

Why this time, did it bother her she was alone?

She didn’t want a relationship now. Not yet.

She’d made her peace with that.

Yet, a quiet sniffle touched her nose.

“Tzuyu, get over here!” Momo called out, jogging Tzuyu’s direction. “Let’s go line up. One last time.”

A bittersweet smile crept onto the corner of Tzuyu’s lips.

How silly of me, trying to think for even a moment these tears came from thoughts of romantic love.

This was the very last time I’ll ever get to play baseball with my best friends in the whole world.

Why on earth wouldn’t I be crying?

“Momo,” Tzuyu said, trying not to let her voice crack. “It’s really over now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Momo squeaked, her voice cracking in Tzuyu’s place. “I had fun, you know? So much fun.”

“So much fun.”

***

Memories from the final game Team Yona had played together ran through Tzuyu’s mind as she stood outside Sarang Stadium.

Well, Team Yona still existed, but not the way Tzuyu remembered it.

All of her friends had graduated from Yona, lives spreading every which way. Obviously the Myoui-Hirai family had stuck close together, but the rest of the girls had scattered as soon as school had ended. Tzuyu was the only one who had to decided to stay in school to continue her studies.

The final game they’d played together, at the end of the spring tournament, Tzuyu had thought that to be the last time she’d ever play baseball seriously. While she’d still be attending Yona, she’d already decided to hang up her hat at the same time as her friends.

However, a letter in the mail had thrown a wrench in that plan.

Tzuyu and Jihyo had both qualified for an autumn event, featuring an all-stars college team of the best players in Korea. Considering Jihyo’s insane prodigial qualifications, Yona was willing to keep her enrolled for an extra year at no cost, just to allow her to represent the school at the Sarang all-stars event.

“You’re really not going?” Dahyun asked.

“I meant it, that game was my last,” Jihyo nodded confidently. “I know I have the skill to pursue baseball professionally, and over the last year I’ve been offered numerous opportunities like this one. Maybe I’m wasting my talent, but it’s not the life I want to live. I wouldn’t trade a second of the time I spent playing with you girls, but now I want a simpler life. I want a stable job, and a boring house in the suburbs, where Momo and I can have kids and grow old. Is that so bad?”

“Not at all,” Tzuyu shook her head, smiling at the sweet sentiment from her friend. “I’m so happy Momo finally proposed.”

“I’m sorry to leave you all alone, Tzu,” Jihyo frowned. “But I know you’ll be amazing out there. You’re Yona’s ace now.”

Yona’s ace, huh?

Tzuyu gazed down at her phone one last time.

“Good luck on your first day! Show them that signature Tzuyu arm, and barrel it from outfield to home, just the way I remember. Love you, bestie.”

—Nayeon.

Taking a deep breath, Tzuyu pocketed her cell and strode toward the front door. She’d already accepted the offer, she was already here—there wasn’t any turning back. Even though the thought of being all alone up there, without any of her friends, terrified her, she’d told herself she could do this. She was Yona’s ace. She’d represent Yona on an international stage. Most importantly, she’d be representing her friends. In a way, she could play for them, just one more time.

Even if she was alone. Even if she was scared. She wanted to play for Yona. For them.

Ice cold air conditioning blasted her in the face from the moment she’d opened the stadium’s glass doors.

A sterile, industrial atmosphere enveloped Tzuyu’s world as she marched under the bright fluorescent lights, her sneakers squeaking on the vinyl floor with each step.

Today was Friday, and from now until Sunday evening, their first game versus Japan, the stadium had ceased all activity in order to give the team free reign of the field to practice get to know each other.

As soon as Tzuyu made her first turn down the hall, she’d heard the sound of the front door opening behind her. Normally she wouldn’t pay any mind, but considering the fact very few individuals were in the building for any purpose other than the Sarang tournament, a nervous excitement reached her heart. Whoever had just passed through those doors would likely be a part of her new team.

Once she’d turned the corner, however, that feeling of excitement had been overwritten by a different kind of nervousness.

A sign only a few feet away read “Locker Room,” with an arrow pointing to her right.

The anticipation was killing her, and she picked up her pace as response. Trying not to break into a full out run, Tzuyu rushed her way to the door, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal handle and thrusting the door open.

Immediately, Tzuyu was met with the biggest, brightest locker room she’d ever been in. Overall room size must have been twice that of Yona’s locker room. Being at Sarang Stadium truly was a luxury, huh?

Standing inside said locker room, several girls had already gathered.

“Another one is here! Who is it this time?”

A cheery girl’s voice lit up the room from the moment Tzuyu crossed the threshold. The girl had wasted no time breaking away from the group to come and greet her.

“Tzuyu!” the girl said, a bright smile across her face as she reached out to shake hands. “I’m so excited to finally meet you! I’d always hoped we’d get to meet on the field, but our schools never got to play. My name is—”

“—Wonhee,” Tzuyu grinned. “Nice to meet you. I’d also hoped Yona and Iris would get to play each other last year.”

Lee Wonhee. She’d joined Team Iris during Yona’s final year together, and in that year had made several headlines around the region. Her running speed measured at an absurd 30.4 feet per second, making her the current fastest base runner in all of Korea by a noticeable margin. On top of that, she was an excellent catcher.

Because Iris and Yona’s districts were so far apart, most tournaments either weren’t shared between the two schools, or would only have met up at the tail end. Either way, the stars had never aligned for the two to meet until now.

Tzuyu wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find Wonhee had been drafted for the all-stars team. She was a perfect candidate.

“Welcome, Ms. Chou,” a woman said, walking over. “My name is Juna, I’ll be your girls’ coach for Team Sarang.”

“Happy to meet you, Coach,” Tzuyu nodded.

“You know, I knew Hyeon growing up?” Juna said. “I called to congratulate her the day you guys won the summer tournament.”

“I’m really happy to have gotten her a victory. She stuck with us even when we were barely a team.”

“She’s always been like that,” Juna smiled. Compared to Hyeon, Juna was taller, and felt more relaxed.

“I’m looking forward to getting to have worked under both of you,” Tzuyu said.

Being offered the responsibility of coaching the Sarang team was a huge honor, so she really was excited to see what Juna had to offer.

“Hey, Tzuyu,” another girl said. “I’m Wendy.”

“Welcome, Tzuyu!” another girl said.

A series of “hi”s and “hello”s were shared, names were exchanged, and overall Tzuyu was pleasantly surprised by the unexpectedly friendly atmosphere she’d walked into.

Yona had always been a positive environment. Well, eventually it had. There had been some turbulence during their second year, which—admittedly—Tzuyu herself had been guilty of perpetuating, but… Nevertheless, even at their worst, she’d have taken Yona’s locker room over somewhere like Yonsei any day.

“I can’t wait to catch for you,” Wonhee said, sitting on the bench beside Tzuyu. “I heard that from the batter’s box, your sidearm form makes it really hard to tell what pitch is coming.”

“That’s how it’s been described to me,” Tzuyu said. “Hopefully I won’t be too much trouble to catch for.”

“Even if you are, I look forward to the challenge!” Wonhee scrunched up her face in an overly dramatic display of determination.

The tiniest laugh escaped Tzuyu’s lips.

Wonhee was cute. Energetic. Super friendly, and seemed to love everyone.

Reminds me of someone I used to love.

“Speaking of catching,” Tzuyu said, “the lead pitcher hasn’t arrived yet, has she?”

“Not yet,” Wonhee replied, “but I’m dying to know who it is.”

“This girl got her invite late, didn’t she? Since Jihyo turned down the role of being our lead pitcher.”

“Yeah. No one knows who the pitcher is going to be. Well, except for Coach Juna, I assume.”

Smile still hanging on her face, the sound of the locker room door opening echoed to her ears.

“Maybe that’s her,” Wonhee said, peering over Tzuyu’s shoulder to watch the entrance.

“Ah, Ms. Ban, welcome.”

…Ban?

Tzuyu knew that name from somewhere, but she couldn’t remember…

“Nice to see you again, Juna.”

…No, please.

The girl came into view, but Tzuyu’s eyes refused to focus.

A knot swelled within her chest, and air struggled to travel her lungs.

That voice.

That name.

She would never forget a girl like her.

“Tzuyu…?” Wonhee whispered. “You okay?”

“Tzuyu?! Is that you?!”

The girl had noticed her.

Reality sat before her. Tzuyu couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Slowly, she lifted her head, and made eye contact with the girl standing above her.

“Hey, Ari.”

***

Yona and Yonsei had never had a rematch after Yona’s victory two years ago. From the moment she’d thrown that final pitch to Momo’s glove, the two teams had never had to set foot on the same ground again.

Tzuyu had never had to see Ari’s face again.

Juna had introduced the team’s lineup a few minutes ago, as soon as all the girls had made their way onto the field. While there were definitely names and faces Tzuyu recognized from over the years, even girls she’d played against in the past, most of of her teammates she’d never gotten to encounter in her district.

In total, they had twenty girls on the team. At least one backup for every position, plus two extras.

This was a standard team size, but to Tzuyu it still seemed massive. By the very end of Tzuyu’s time at Yona, they’d finally grown to have enough players to allow for such a large roster, but she still hadn’t gotten used to being a full sized time.

Long passed were the times of Jihyo threatening to pitch all nine innings herself. Still, Tzuyu would never forget those days when they’d struggled to even have nine players to put on the field. As silly as some might have found it, those days would always be her favorite.

Her favorite, because it was the only time all eight of her best friends had been together.

“…What do you mean you’re leaving?!” Tzuyu shouted.

“Tzuyu…” Nayeon said, holding open her apartment door. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone?”

“I wouldn’t be celebrating with ‘everyone!’ ‘Everyone’ includes you!”

“I know,” Nayeon nodded.

As her head began to cool, Tzuyu noticed the somber posture struggling to carry the girl before her. The bloodshot eyes. The gleam of liquid reflecting the light off her cheeks. “Oh, Nayeon…”

Tzuyu dashed across the threshold, throwing her arms around her friend.

“I-it’s like we talked about, you know…?” Nayeon’s lips curled, threatening to start a downpour on her cheeks once again. “I… I talked to Mina, and now I have to go, so…”

Tzuyu reached her hand behind Nayeon’s head, running her fingers through her hair.

“I know,” Tzuyu said, shaking head, rubbing her nose against Nayeon’s shoulder. “You don’t have to explain it to me. I know.”

“I’m really going to miss you,” Nayeon whimpered.

“I’m going to miss you so, so much,” Tzuyu said, voice muffled in the collar of Nayeon’s sweater. “Thank you so much for being my friend. You brought so much light back into my life.”

“We’ll always be friends,” Nayeon said, rubbing her hands along Tzuyu’s back. “That won’t change. Even if we’re apart, I’ll call you all the time. If I can’t call, I’ll text. We’ll stay together. I promise.”

“I’d love to meet up whenever we can,” Tzuyu said, “maybe play catch again, once in a while.”

“We’ll make sure that happens,” Nayeon said, squeezing Tzuyu’s back with all her might. “No matter what. Now, come on, you should get back there. I’m sure Momo misses you.”

“What if I miss you?”

Nayeon broke their hug, holding Tzuyu by the cheeks, gently wiping away her tears with her thumbs. “I still live next door. My lease isn’t up just yet. If you really need to see me, I’ll still be right here for a little longer. We’ll spend lots of time together until then.”

“Okay,” Tzuyu sniffled. “Our little team really won the whole tournament, didn’t we?”

“I can’t believe it,” Nayeon said, smiling as she wiped off her own tears.

Tzuyu took one last look at the girl who had brightened her world. Pulled her up when she was drowning. Given her a friend. Even saved her little baseball team.

“I can,” Tzuyu smiled.

Ryujin tossed the ball Tzuyu’s way, sliding effortlessly into the palm of Tzuyu’s glove. But, even as she felt the impact through the leather, her eyes kept drifting elsewhere.

Over in the bullpen, Wonhee was catching for Ari.

“Is it weird playing with an old teammate?” Ryujin asked. “Or I guess, rival? I don’t know what you guys are.”

“We used to be friends,” Tzuyu admitted, tossing the ball back. “She was the one who taught me how to pitch.”

“Really, now?” Ryujin raised a brow. “That part I didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised,” Tzuyu scoffed. “Didn’t know she knew how to keep her mouth shut about something.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is,” Ryujin nodded, passing the ball back. “So, not friends anymore.”

“Not friends anymore,” Tzuyu confirmed.

“That sucks.”

“It is rather unlucky,” Tzuyu agreed, pressing her lips together, accidentally throwing Ryujin a wild ball.

“That’s not what I mean,” Ryujin corrected, diving for the catch. “I mean, it sucks to have to hold a grudge like that.”

“I… I’m not holding it for fun.”

“Oh, sorry, that’s not what I meant either,” Ryujin shook her head. “I’m sure she deserves it, whatever she did. That’s what really makes it suck though, doesn’t it? Disliking people feels bad, in my experience. Forgiving them feels much better, but if they never do anything to earn your forgiveness, there’s only so much you can do.”

Tzuyu nodded, catching the ball from Ryujin. “You’re right. When you put it like that, it really does suck.”

Day one of practice had been pretty boring. At least, the physical aspect of it. Meeting all of the new girls had been very exciting.

Despite the monotony of practice, moments such as her chats with Ryujin, and the shared grins with Wonhee, had all left Tzuyu with happy memories of her first day.

The three girls had hit it off so well that, by the end of the day, they were already spending their time in the locker room huddled around one another. In fact, Ryujin could have left five minutes ago, but she stuck around to wait until the other two were ready to walk out with her.

“Holy crap, Wonhee,” Ryujin said as the girls made it to the parking lot. “I knew you were fast, but seeing it with my own eyes was a whole other story.”

“My legs are just quick,” Wonhee said, brushing off the compliment. “What I’m really impressed about is your batting. No wonder Juna put you first on the batting order.”

Ryujin was as switch hitter, and possessed a talent like Sana’s when it came to getting on to base. After seeing all of the girls playing today, Tzuyu really felt the fact she was on an all-stars team. Everyone there had an insane talent of some kind.

“You even made base hitting against Ari, that can’t have been easy.” Wonhee frowned. “Catching her pitches is really hard. Harder than anyone I’ve ever caught for.”

“Did she throw her knuckleball for you?” Tzuyu asked.

“She has a knuckleball?” Wonhee’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck? How many breaking balls can she throw?”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t heard,” Tzuyu said. “She’s made the paper a few times. Currently her repertoire of pitches is on par with some of the best pitchers in history. You’re catching for a monster.”

“It felt like I was catching for a monster…” Wonhee mumbled. “I asked Juna about it, by the way, and it sounds like I’ll get to catch for you tomorrow, Tzuyu!”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Tzuyu grinned.

“This is me,” Ryujin said, unlocking the nearby car with a beep, and squeezing her way to the driver’s side door. “See you girls tomorrow.”

“See you, Ryujin,” Tzuyu waved.

“Moka’s car is on the far end of the lot,” Wonhee pointed. “I think she’s already there waiting for me. I should probably hurry over.”

“Go for it,” Tzuyu said. “My car is on the opposite side.”

“Okay then, I won’t keep her waiting any longer,” Wonhee said. “Even if Juna doesn’t put us together in the bullpen tomorrow, let’s sneak in there together and throw some pitches anyway, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tzuyu nodded.

“Perfect!” Wonhee said, breaking into a jog down the pavement. “See you tomorrow, Tzuyu!”

As the small girl sprinted off, Tzuyu felt the words she’d been meaning to say ever since practice had ended bubbling up in her throat. She was almost out of time. If she wanted to speak, the time had to be now.

Someone once told me to speak up for the things I really wanted.

She told me not to be afraid.

“Nothing will ever happen if you can’t be brave.”

“Hey, Wonhee, do you like cookies?!” Tzuyu called after the girl.

“Love them!” Wonhee shouted, turning around, slowing her pace just a tad.

“I was thinking of baking some tomorrow!” Tzuyu yelled. “Would you like to come over and we could make a bunch together?”

“That sounds great!” Wonhee replied, sticking out her arms with a double thumbs up. “Let’s invite Ryujin, too!”

“Hell yeah!”

“Awesome!”

Wonhee turned back in a full sprint, disappearing behind the cars.

Tzuyu walked the final paces to her car, wrapping her fingers around the silver door handle. Before she could pull open the dingy car door, a breeze touched her cheek, blowing her hair across her eyes.

And a smile crept upon her lips.

***

The second day of practice was a lot more intense than first. Since their match versus Japan started tomorrow evening, Juna had started focusing on team synergy. All of the potential pitchers and catchers on the team had spent some time learning common hand signals to communicate with each other. Since not a single school had offered both a complete pitcher and catcher duo, all of their batteries were combinations of different teams, and thus had totally different methods of communication with one another.

Typically, establishing a base set of hand signs wasn’t an exceptionally long process, but most teams didn’t have to account for Ari’s exceptionally long list of pitches.

Thankfully, Wonhee had proved her worth as an all-star catcher, quickly memorizing signals for Ari’s entire, over-sized arsenal.

Tzuyu currently stood beside Ari in the bullpen, finally getting to throw for Wonhee, while Ari was throwing to Yeji. Currently, Yeji was their shortstop, but she’d offered to catch for Ari should Wonhee ever have to substitute out.

Kazuha was meant to be Sarang’s second-string catcher, and is who Tzuyu had practiced with the previous day, but after some sort of disagreement in the bullpen earlier, she’d told Juna she and Ari “weren’t compatible” as a battery.

That didn’t exactly come as a surprise to Tzuyu. Kaya might have been the only catcher in the league who’d been willing to put with Ari, but Yonsei had gone with Sumin instead as their second nomination for the all-stars draft.

Sumin had the highest career home run count in the region. As excellent a catcher as Kaya might have been, Sumin was the more exceptional between the two. Yonsei had made the right choice.

Unfortunately, that left poor Wonhee and Yeji behind to deal with the misery of catching for Ban Ari.

“Ready when you are!” Wonhee called, slipping on her catcher’s mask and prepping her glove. “Give me a fastball down the middle.”

“As you wish!” Tzuyu nodded, winding up for her first pitch of the day. The moment her left foot hit the ground, she transferred all her momentum to her right shoulder, swinging her arm inward until the ball shot from her fingertips.

The pitch was clean, Tzuyu could feel it.

As the ball soared through the air, moving exactly as Tzuyu predicted, she noticed Wonhee make a late adjustment to her glove position.

Thunk!

Wonhee’s glove collapsed around the ball in a perfect thud.

“How was it?!” Tzuyu asked.

“Perfect!” Wonhee replied. “I understand the rumors now. The ball didn’t come out the way I expected, not at all, but I trusted you to throw the pitch I asked for, and you did. This is a scary tool, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu continued to throw several more pitches for Wonhee, the two tossing compliments back and forth like candy, meanwhile the two beside them had been having a… different experience.

“I don’t know where the fuck this ball is going,” Yeji said.

“That’s the beauty of the knuckleball,” Ari said.

“Yeah, real fuckin’ beautiful while I’m watching it roll past me on the dirt.”

“Back at Iris, I had trouble reliably catching knuckleballs as well,” Wonhee chimed in. “Minju experimented with learning a knuckleball once, but that dream had been short-lived once she realized she couldn’t control the damn thing.”

“Huh,” Ari said. “You guys would know better than me, I’ve never been the catcher. My old catcher, Kaya, used to catch it most of the time, but there was always a chance she’d mess it up when it came to the knuckleball.”

“Kaya was crazy,” Tzuyu said. As much as Tzuyu didn’t want to speak to Ari, she ended up feeling a need to contribute to the conversation. “In a good way, and a bad way. She was quite talented at catching, but she was also willing to put up with a lot of risks I know Jeong or Momo never would have allowed.”

“That’s the Tzuyu I know,” Ari said, leaning over to tap her on the shoulder with her glove hand. “I can always trust you to tell the truth. I like that.”

Tzuyu hummed, quietly acknowledging Ari’s comment.

“Yeji, how do you feel about a screwball?” Ari asked.

“Sure,” Yeji rolled her eyes. “Let’s practice a screwball. Why not?”

Trying to brush off the tension in the air, Wonhee redirected her attention back to Tzuyu. “Why don’t you toss me a sinker this time, yeah? You’re the first sidearm pitcher I’ve caught for, but as far as I know you all have a super strong sinker.”

“Sinker is an all-time favorite pitch for me,” Tzuyu said. “I’ve developed a decent cutter over the last year, though.”

“Perfect, let’s try both of them then,” Wonhee nodded, slipping her mask on and crouching into position. “Sinker first.”

Thankfully, the rest of the girls’ time in the bullpen had gone relatively smoothly. Yeji hadn’t said much, but she seemed to catch everything that was thrown her way.

Throwing for Wonhee had felt good. Really good. So much so that Tzuyu had begun to feel a pang of guilt in her chest every time Wonhee had completed a flawlessly precise catch. Tzuyu didn’t want to admit the first-year from Iris—her new friend—might have been a stronger player than her old friends in any way.

Jeongyeon and Momo had both been incredible catchers, and given the choice, Tzuyu would have picked Momo over any professional catcher, any day of the week. Ever since she’d asked Momo to catch for her in the Yonsei game, the two had grown as an inseparable duo, reaching a connection so strong they’d hardly needed to communicate their intentions anymore.

Whenever their feet had touched the field, Momo and Tzuyu would become each other’s ride or die. No matter the count, no matter how stressful, Tzuyu knew her ball would be safe if it were headed toward Momo’s glove.

Nothing could ever replace that.

Even if Wonhee’s form was… perhaps a tad more clean.

Yeji and Ari had wrapped up in the bullpen a few pitches ago, but Tzuyu and Wonhee had hung around to discuss things for a while longer. That’s what they’d told Juna, anyway, but truth be told they were slacking off.

In that wasted time, however, Ryujin had snuck her way over.

“How’d things go with Yeji and Ari?” Ryujin asked.

“Could have been better,” Wonhee said.

“Could have been worse,” Tzuyu said.

“So, a little rough, but okay?” Ryujin nodded. “Got it. What kind of mood did Yeji leave in?”

“I’m… not sure?” Wonhee put her finger to her chin. “Decent, I think. Possibly better once she knew it was time to stop. I don’t think she likes Ari very much.”

“That’s becoming an increasingly popular opinion now, isn’t it?” Ryujin clicked her tongue. “Is she really so bad?”

Tzuyu gritted her teeth, bouncing her shoulders in a hostile shrug. “She’s done bad things in the past, but I don’t know if she’s a bad person. I also don’t know if she’s kept doing bad things since.”

“…How bad?” Ryujin asked. “Like, scary bad?”

“No,” Tzuyu shook her head. “Just enough for her to piss me off, not enough that I think she shouldn’t be allowed on the team.”

“Right, right…” Ryujin muttered, wiping her finger across her lower lip.

“…Why the sudden interest?” Tzuyu arched her brow.

Ryujin grimaced. “Because I… sorta, maybe, just had her tongue in my mouth?”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened. She stormed over to Ryujin and grabbed her by the sides of her shoulders. “When did this happen?!”

“Tzuyu, what’s wrong?” Wonhee asked.

“Like I said, a minute or two ago, we were both alone by the outdoor vending machines, and…” Ryujin swallowed. “I don’t know, how else do things like this start? It just kinda happened. But then I remembered what you said, Tzuyu, and it got me thinking, should I have not…”

Tzuyu saw the distress in Ryujin’s eyes and immediately loosened her grip, patting off the finger creases in Ryujin’s jersey. “You’re okay. I’m sorry, I overreacted.”

“What did that girl do to you, Tzuyu?” Wonhee asked.

“She didn’t do anything to me,” Tzuyu admitted. “She hurt very deeply someone I care for very much. I don’t even know how to explain it, I…”

“Ryujin,” Wonhee said. “Did Tzuyu get around to inviting you for cookies tonight?”

“Huh?” Ryujin raised her eyebrows, surprised by the sudden change of topic. “No, she didn’t, but I love cookies.”

“Me too,” Wonhee nodded. “Why don’t the three of us talk this over more thoroughly then?”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds great,” Ryujin said. “Sorry about all this.”

Tzuyu shook her head. “Nothing to apologize for, not at all. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

“Well, I don’t think you need to apologize either,” Ryujin said. “So, call it even? No one did anything wrong, and both of us are awesome?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tzuyu giggled. “Sounds good to me.”

***

“If you’re going to pitch sidearm, hold your shoulder like this… And straighten your arm like this… No, keep your hips here…”

Ari put her hands her hips, eyeing Tzuyu top to bottom like she was a piece of modern art.

“…Perfect!”

“Okay, I think I get it,” Tzuyu nodded, preparing to run through the pitching motion again. “So… leg up, arm out…”

“Arm higher,” Ari said, walking behind Tzuyu to move her right arm into place.

Mina and Sana were busy playing catch over in the infield, waiting for Hyeon to arrive and begin practice.

Tzuyu averted her gaze. There was no reason to hurt herself with jealousy. She was working toward earning Sana’s attention on her own.

“You know, you should just ask her out,” Ari said, her mouth so close her words breathed onto Tzuyu’s neck.

“Excuse me?”

“Minatozaki,” Ari said, peering around Tzuyu’s shoulder to lean into her periphery. “You love her, don’t you?”

“I…”

“Sorry, maybe love is a strong word,” Ari corrected. “Regardless of what you call it, you want to end up in her bed, don’t you?”

Tzuyu stiffened up.

“Nothing will ever happen if you can’t be brave,” Ari said.

Tzuyu turned back and saw Ari’s gaze just briefly drift off to the game of catch between Momo and Seonmi over by third base.

“Mmmm, these are good,” Ryujin moaned, reveling in her first bite of the warm cookies the three girls had just pulled out of the oven.

“You’ll have to thank my friend Jihyo for that,” Tzuyu said, proudly nibbling from her cookie. “This is her recipe. I just made it a little fluffier.”

“Yona’s ace was also an ace in the kitchen?” Wonhee giggled. “Geez, these are good.”

“Hey, Yona’s former ace,” Ryujin clarified, wrapping her arm around Tzuyu’s shoulder. “We have Yona’s current ace right here.”

“I’m only ace by default,” Tzuyu laughed. “I’ll never throw as fast as Jihyo, and I still don’t have her repertoire of breaking balls.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Wonhee said. “You’re always thinking about what you don’t have. What you do have is a crazy hard to read sidearm. Now that I’ve gotten to pitch for it, it’s no surprise to me that you’re qualified to be Yona’s ace.”

“Maybe by normal people standards,” Tzuyu admitted, picking up and offering Ryujin another cookie, which—instead of taking from Tzuyu like a normal person—Ryujin simply chomped off the top half, her lips brushing against Tzuyu’s fingers in the process.

Ryujin wiggled her eyebrows jokingly, but Tzuyu fired back by tossing the rest of Ryujin’s half-eaten cookie into her own mouth.

“Enough flirting,” Wonhee groaned, “Tzuyu, finish what you were saying.”

“We were not flirting,” Tzuyu defended.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Wonhee hand-waved. “Don’t care how it happened, Ryujin’s spit still ended up in your mouth. Now talk.”

Ryujin covered her cookie-filled mouth as she tried not to laugh.

“…But, I don’t get to compare myself to normal people standards,” Tzuyu said. “I’m on a team with the most talented pitcher of our generation.”

“And, of all the pitchers in our region who could have been her secondary,” Wonhee argued, “you were chosen to stand beside her.”

“I suppose you’re right. I certainly never thought I’d be standing there again.”

Tzuyu glanced around her little apartment. The very same one that had once been a depressing, lifeless hole, until Nayeon had pushed her to bring to life.

If the Tzuyu from then had flashed forward in time to see her kitchen as it was, the way Ryujin and Wonhee were getting to see it, the old Tzuyu wouldn’t have never have believed it. Everything was so clean, and bright, and alive. Fresh light bulbs, colorful decorations along the walls.

Reliable friends, if still very new.

A warmer life.

“I think it’s about time we have that talk then, isn’t it?” Ryujin asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. “About Ari. You’re such a nice girl, Tzu, what did she do to you to leave you feeling like this?”

“She hurt my friend,” Tzuyu said.

After first swearing the girls to secrecy, making them promise not a word was to leave this room, Tzuyu started from the beginning.

She wouldn’t be covering every detail. Just what mattered.

Over the years, Momo had ended up telling Tzuyu everything that had happened between her and Ari. Some of the intimate aspects were told in such detailed disdain, Tzuyu had had to wonder if Momo had even told Jihyo these things. Details like those might have been easier to share with a friend than a lover. Tzuyu knew if she’d been in Jihyo’s shoes, hearing that level of detail about a partner’s past sex life would have made her sick.

Maybe that’s part of why Momo had confided in Tzuyu. She’d told everyone after the game versus Yonsei, she’d moved on. That she’d officially broken free from Ari. From everything that had happened between them. Tzuyu had believed her, but there had to have been feelings in there that still hurt to this day.

Regardless of how far Momo might have moved on, Tzuyu had still been furious when she’d learned what Ari had done to her friend. To violate her dear friend’s feelings like that, Tzuyu had been moments away from storming off to Yonsei just to scream in Ari’s face.

The only reason she hadn’t was because Momo had asked her not to. Momo had told all of the girls not to react or say a thing. She hadn’t wanted Ari to know how badly she’d been hurt—she still didn’t want her to know. Tzuyu respected that decision. Admired it.

But Tzuyu’s own feelings didn’t match. She’d never gotten closure for seeing her friend be hurt.

Once Tzuyu finished telling her new friends the grim conflict between Ari and Momo, and by proxy, the rest of the team, she could sense the mood of the room had sunk with the weight of the story.

“Ouch,” Ryujin said, her gaze lowered to her feet. “I should have trusted you, Tzu.”

“I don’t want to stop you, if you like her,” Tzuyu said. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

Ryujin nodded. “I appreciate that. The moment we shared was—to be blunt—really hot, but I don’t want to be involved with all of this. There’s another girl I having feelings for, anyway.”

“Is it Yeji?” Wonhee asked.

“Is it—how the fuck do you know that?” Ryujin raised her eyebrows, dumbfounded.

Wonhee shrugged. “Intuition. Something about the way you looked at her.”

“Fine,” Ryujin sighed. “Yeah, it’s Yeji. The problem is, I’ve liked her since we were kids. Tragically, somewhere around middle school, y’know, right when those kinds of hormones start kicking in, we’d drifted apart. I never got to say anything. Before we ever reconnected, she and I ended up going to different high schools—however, during that time, I’d heard through word of mouth that Yeji had started dating someone, and that… That broke me. I don’t know, the thought of her being with someone else made me sick. Brought back that childhood crush I’d spent years stuffing down.

“Now, jump ahead to two years ago, what are the odds she and I both enroll in Itsuki University? We both joined the baseball team, and, well, a life time of romantic feelings were impossible to ignore. I try flirting, but she doesn’t really flirt back. I’ve been getting nowhere, and the nail in the coffin was a few weeks ago when I heard—for the second time in my life—she’d gone on a date with another girl.”

“No…” Wonhee frowned.

“I don’t know if they ever saw each other again,” Ryujin said, “but since then I’ve been spinning out a little. So, when Ari was so clearly making a move on me, it just… it felt good to be the one being sought after, you know?”

“I get it,” Tzuyu said. She knew all too well exactly how it felt to long for someone you knew would never want you back.

“All that to say, I don’t have feelings for Ari,” Ryujin said. “My real feelings lie elsewhere. That being said, Ari was a really good kisser, so I admit, it’s hard not to wonder how deep that skill goes, but…”

Ryujin shook her head.

“Sorry, that was really insensitive of me to say,” Ryujin apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tzuyu said. “Two of my friends now have put their tongue in her mouth, there’s clearly something alluring to it.”

“What was Ari like when she was back on Yona?” Wonhee asked. “Like, just a person, sex and relationships aside. Was she a decent friend? Decent teammate?”

Tzuyu clicked her tongue. “Everyone liked her. I liked her. There’s a reason I asked her and not Jihyo when I wanted to learn to pitch. She was confident, talented, charismatic… Seemed to like you just for being you. A bit snarky sometimes, and a bit of an ego, but God knows if you’re going to be the best pitcher of your generation, it’s hard not to have one.

“But, we’ve said it before—there’s a reason Jihyo was Yona’s ace, and not Ari. Jihyo had the potential to be top 20 best pitchers in the world, but Ari has potential for number one. Ari should have been our ace, but she wasn’t, and I think both of you have seen why first hand.”

Ryujin and Wonhee both nodded.

“Yeji refusing to catch for her surprised me,” Ryujin said. “Seriously, she’s not usually uncooperative.”

“I understand why she did it,” Wonhee said. “I’m interested in the challenge, and I’ll see how she acts in a real game, but my good spirits are only because I’m spending less than a week with her. If she were joining Iris, I wouldn’t be so quick to put up with all this.”

“I don’t quite understand her attitude,” Ryujin chimed in. “Even after our moment together, I felt like we were still playing a game, if that makes sense? Like she and I never connected emotionally.”

“Yes, that’s it!” Tzuyu said through a mouthful of cookie, pointing and wiggling her finger toward Ryujin. “There’s some invisible wall between you and her at all times. You complain to her about her pitching, but it seems to brush off. It’s not like she doesn’t hear you—hell, it’s not even like she doesn’t sympathize with you—yet, somehow, you still feel like you didn’t get through to her.”

“Do you think there’s a chance… she just doesn’t know how?” Wonhee said.

“Know how to what?” Ryujin asked.

“To connect,” Wonhee explained. “With people. Maybe even with baseball.”

“You had me at people, but, baseball?” Ryujin tilted her head. “Isn’t that like, her whole identity?”

“Pitching is, but she doesn’t seem to engage with the team aspect at all,” Wonhee continued. “You say she’s a bad teammate, and I think I know what you mean. I only caught for a day, and usually the connection between a pitcher and catcher is something special—an art you two create together—but that’s not how I felt with Ari. When Minju pitched to me, I would smile to her after, like ‘yeah, we did it!’ With Ari, I felt as though I was just a glove. She would throw a ball my way, and it was my job to catch it.”

Tzuyu nodded, understanding the sentiment perfectly.

“Like I said, I’m interested in the challenge,” Wonhee said, “but I wouldn’t want to do this long term.”

Ryujin brushed her fingers over her lips. “That’s a good way of putting it. Our lips touched, but I don’t know if we kissed.”

“I’m starting get more and more sad thinking about Momo,” Wonhee frowned. “What a horrible way to have your heart broken.”

“The good news is, that story has already reached a happy ending,” Tzuyu said, handing Wonhee another cookie. “She proposed to Jihyo during our last year, and now they’re busy planning a wedding.”

“Didn’t two of your other players get married?” Ryujin asked.

“Mina and Sana,” Tzuyu grinned.

“Quite the romantically entangled team, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Tzuyu said. “Really, not the half of it. I’ve already had to attend one wedding for that team, now I’m preparing for another, and possibly one more down the line.”

“Another one?” Wonhee said, taking a sip from her glass of milk.

“Hopefully,” Tzuyu smiled. “One of the girls is my best friend. She and her girlfriend have gone through a lot of ups and downs, and they’ve hard to work really hard to get to the point they are now, but I think one day they’ll make it where they’re trying to go.”

“I’d like a happy ending like that,” Ryujin said, her voice cracking as she turned her back to the group.

Wonhee’s face softened as she and Tzuyu exchanged a knowing glance. Nodding, the two moved in sync, both moving in to attack Ryujin from behind with hugs from behind.

“Wha—?” Ryujin jumped.

Tzuyu rested her chin on Ryujin’s left shoulder, while Wonhee pressed her nose against Ryujin’s right shoulder blade.

“Guys…” Ryujin sniffled. “I’m fine, really, I can’t even believe I started seriously crying. That isn’t like me. I didn’t know what to do about it.”

“It’s not too complicated,” Tzuyu said. “Just cry.”

“I-I don’t want to do that,” Ryujin shook her head. “What kind of weirdo just starts crying over nothing? We weren’t even talking about me.”

“Have you ever cried over Yeji before?”

“I don’t know?” Ryujin squeaked. “Probably? Maybe? I don’t know? I really love her, and somehow that feeling only brings me pain. I let myself go with another woman, and it’s not even something I’m proud of. Even if Ari was a better person, it felt so hollow to just give myself to someone else. Kissing is kissing, shouldn’t it have felt the same?”

Tzuyu continued to squeeze Ryujin’s stomach as she could hear tears ready to break the dam underneath her eyes.

“I just really wanted to be kissing her, man,” Ryujin broke. “Of course it matters whose lips touched mine. I didn’t want to kiss a girl, I wanted to kiss my Yeji.”

“I know,” Tzuyu said. “You don’t have to hold back with us. We got you.”

“Mhm,” Wonhee mumbled into Ryujin’s shoulders. “I don’t care if we’ve only known each other two days, we’re bffs now.”

“You guys…” Ryujin whispered.

Tzuyu had never forgotten that day she’d broken down on the grass. When her world view had shattered like glass. When she’d wanted nothing more than to kick and scream and push away the world.

Yet, neither Nayeon nor Sana had refused to let go. They’d sat there with her until the last tear had dropped.

And ever since then, the sun had shone a slightly different color.

Maybe a moment like that was happening for Ryujin now. Or maybe, she just to have a good cry over a struggling heart, and that’s all there was to it.

The outcome didn’t matter.

Tzuyu had forever onward decided she wanted to be the type of person who looked out for those who were falling. To be the type of person Sana had been for her that day.

Sana had been her idol once upon a time, hadn’t she?

Her feelings toward Sana—they’d gone too far. Tzuyu knew that.

But to admire, and to be inspired, by the good in someone else’s heart?

That was something she’d never regret.

***

“Strike,” the umpire called.

Ari had thrown a screwball to open their first game versus Japan.

Tzuyu stood in right field under the stadium lights. Wendy to her right in center field, Ryujin and Sakura on first and second, respectively.

Sarang was to play against Japan in a best of three, three nights in a row. If Sarang won the set, they’d move on to play either America or Taiwan next.

“Strike.”

That seemed to be a slider. Ari had a million options to pitch here, to the point where Tzuyu, despite being on her team, hadn’t a clue what was coming out next.

Tzuyu stood much too far to be able to read Wonhee’s hand signals, but she knew Wonhee knew what to do in a situation like this. Getting a clean strikeout would do good psychological damage to the enemy team.

Which is why Tzuyu was taken aback when she saw Ari shook her head.

Contesting a catcher’s suggested pitch was common practice, but to do so so early was troubling. This shouldn’t have been a complicated moment. Ari could have thrown a sinker, or a changeup, or just a basic cutter.

Ari shook her head again.

Wendy and Tzuyu shot each other a worried glance.

This wasn’t a good position to be in. There was no way Wonhee would request a trip to the mound, not on the very first batter. Showing that level of disconnect within their team would do the exact opposite of discouraging their opponents.

Whatever Ari decided to throw, Wonhee was going to catch it, even if she disagreed.

Finally, Ari nodded.

Raising her left leg, and thrusting her weight onto the mound, she flung her arm over her head with a force so strong one might have expected a fastball of some kind.

However, once the ball left her fingertips, Tzuyu could only sigh.

She’d thrown a knuckleball.

Floating unnaturally across the field, the ball made its way over the plate and into the strike zone.

Everything appeared fine until it wildly changed directions over the plate and shot away from the batter, causing Wonhee to miss the catch.

This counted as a dropped third strike, and the batter recognized it immediately, seizing the opportunity and charging straight for first base.

Thankfully, Wonhee launched to her feet and fielded the ball with an eloquence that so sharply reminded Tzuyu just what kind of team she was on.

Wonhee passed the ball to Ryujin, outing the runner with time to spare.

Yeji turned to the outfield, rolling her eyes where Ari couldn’t see.

Ryujin passed the ball back to Ari while the next batter moved up to plate. The first baseman dug her feet into the dirt, preparing for their next play, but not before turning around to give Tzuyu a telling look.

“What a way to start the game, huh?” Tzuyu read in her eyes.

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Tzuyu shrugged back.

The rest of the inning had gone relatively smoothly. There’d only been two hits, and neither batter had made it to base. Second out had been a clean catch by Moka in left field, third out had been a grounder fielded by Yeji at shortstop, making a clean toss to Ryujin.

Now, it was time to switch sides. The girls pooled into the dugout, tension from the first batter still in the air.

“Good job, everyone,” Juna said once everyone had made it in. “Japan has strong pitchers, so let’s just focus on getting to base. Ms. Shin, you’re up first.”

“I’m excited for this,” Ryujin boasted, finishing the straps on her batting gloves. “I’ve never met a pitcher I couldn’t get the better of, and I don’t intend to start now.”

“Go get ‘em Ryujin,” Yeji said, patting her teammate on the back. “Show them what we’re made of back at Itsuki.”

“Will do,” Ryujin said, her confident demeanor faltering ever-so-slightly by the attention from her crush.

“You got this,” Ari cheered.

Ryujin didn’t respond with words, instead nodding off Ari’s encouragement.

The act hadn’t been a hostile one, but… it had triggered something Tzuyu had never seen before.

Ari seemed to be disappointed Ryujin didn’t say anything back. There wasn’t any anger in her eyes, just the gaze of a sad puppy.

Unfortunately, the moment had passed as quickly as it had arrived, and Tzuyu had found herself wrapped up in the team’s strategy discussions before she’d gotten the chance to fully understand what she’d just seen across the room.

Coach Juna didn’t say anything about what had happened between Ari and Wonhee with that first batter. Maybe she knew the possible stress discussing it could bring the team. Maybe she wanted to see the girls work it out for themselves. Tzuyu couldn’t be sure, but she put her trust in Juna.

Before long, Ryujin was already at the plate, with Wonhee preparing to follow up.

“Come on, come on, you’ve got this,” Yeji murmured in the corner.

“She’s batting lefty for this one,” Wendy pointed out.

“Makes sense,” Yeji said. “She prefers that side most of the time.”

The first pitch arrived, and Ryujin didn’t swing.

Ball.

“Wow, she’s confident,” Sakura said. “That was not far out of the strike zone.”

“That’s Ryujin for you,” Yeji nodded.

Another pitch arrived, curving out and low for the second time in a row.

Strike.

Ryujin turned back to the umpire with a deathly glare.

“Ryujin has better eyes than most umpires,” Yeji explained. “If she’s that upset, chances are that wasn’t a strike.”

“I’m curious,” Wendy asked, “if she’s that good at picking up on false strikes, how often does the umpire call a ball she feels she doesn’t deserve?”

“All the time,” Yeji smirked.

Third pitch. This one was incredibly close, clearly trying to jam her if she’d felt compelled to swing this time.

Ball.

“She didn’t swing, again,” Tzuyu said.

“This is really something,” Sumin commented.

Fourth pitch.

This one was faster than the rest.

But it was definitely in the strike zone.

Ryujin swung without hesitation. Her hips pulling along her arms with such grace, you wouldn’t have believed she’d spent three consecutive pitches still as statue.

Clink.

The hit was clean between center and right field. No chance in hell they’d get the ball to first in time. Ryujin sprinted to base without a hitch.

Everyone carried on the same energy they’d spent cheering for Ryujin’s run, cheering for Wonhee as she stepped up to plate.

“You’ve got this!” Moka cheered.

“Fastest runner in the league!” Sakura called. “I believe in you!”

“Seeing these two back to back is going to be interesting,” Moka giggled. “Ryujin is so picky about when she’ll swing, but Wonhee…”

Clink.

Tzuyu hadn’t even seen it happen, but Wonhee had hit the first pitch. Seeing her take off at the speed of sound felt surreal. Tzuyu knew she was fast, but seeing it in reality was truly something to marvel at.

“That wasn’t even that good a hit,” Sumin said.

“No, it wasn’t,” Moka laughed. “Exactly what I saying. Wonhee is so privileged with her running speed that she can make it to base even if the hit isn’t spectacular.”

“What about Ryujin?” Yeji asked. “Wasn’t there a chance Ryujin would get screwed because she can’t run that fast?”

“There was,” Moka nodded. “At least, there would have been, if Japan had noticed the gargantuan lead off Ryujin had toward second.”

Yeji shook her head with a laugh. “Nevermind. That’s my Ryujin.”

Next up to bat was Sumin. Tzuyu remembered with all her heart the moment Sumin had hit a home run off of her in their game versus Yonsei.

Two outs. Bottom of the eighth. Sana and Mina had just gotten a double play.

All she’d needed to do was get through Sumin, and they’d be on to the ninth with a two point lead. But she hadn’t been able to do it. Sumin had hit a home run off of her sinker—the pitch she’d trusted the most.

Sure, the next batter had gone down without a hitch. A clean 3-0 strikeout. But that hadn’t stopped Tzuyu from being disappointed in herself for allowing Yonsei the free point.

“That was an amazing double play, you guys,” Tzuyu said as they entered the dugout. “Fuck, I’m sorry I let the home run through.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Momo asked. “I’m the one who called for a sinker, and you pitched it flawlessly.”

“Momo…”

Momo pressed her glove against Tzuyu’s chest with a smile. “You’re not alone up there, you know. You and I share the blame for these sorts of things.”

“Besides,” Sana chimed in, “home runs happen, especially when you’re fighting one of the best power hitters in the region. I bet they’re all saying the similar things about me every time Ari lets me get on to base.”

“Speaking of Ari,” Mina said. “Guess who’s still pitching this last inning.”

Her friends had made her feel so much better, she’d been able to forget about it and continue pitching until the end. Even still, the feeling would always sting, at least a little.

That being said…

Watching Sumin hit another home run on the first pitch, against one of Japan’s best pitchers…

Well, that made it hurt a little less too.

***

With how that first inning had gone, no one would have expected how stressful the rest of the set would have turned out.

Sarang had won the first game 9-7, lost the second game 4-8, and finally, with Tzuyu’s last pitch, they’d won the final game, 5-2.

Ari had pitched seven innings the first game. The second game, Juna had had the second-string pitchers start, unwilling to utilize Ari two games in a row for fear of damaging her shoulder. However, once Juna had seen they weren’t going to be able to make up the score deficit, she’d chosen to let Tzuyu rest on the bench as well, resigning herself to a loss if it meant keeping her star pitches in good shape for game three.

The third game, however, Ari had been insistent on pitching the entire game. She’d have done the same thing she’d done versus Yona, had Juna not cut her off on the ninth inning.

Unfortunately, mishaps like the dropped third strike had continued to happen throughout the games. Ari would disagree with Wonhee’s calls, or sometimes throw a completely different pitch than requested. The fact Wonhee caught ninety-percent of what was thrown to her, including the knuckleballs, was an incredible testament to just how talented a catcher she was.

“Just like that, onto the next round,” Ari celebrated as the girls made gathered back in the locker room.

“I don’t know why Juna let her pitch for so long,” Yeji whispered to Tzuyu. “I mean, look at what she put Wonhee through.”

“Yeah, but look what happened to us during the second game,” Tzuyu whispered back. “I’m not any happier about it than you are, but she made the right call.”

“The game versus America is going to be hard,” Yeji sighed, parting ways as she headed for her locker on the other side of the room.

Tzuyu headed over to her corner, where Wonhee was already nearby and waiting for her.

“Nice job closing out the game,” Wonhee smiled. “You’re a really precise pitcher. I feel like I can ask for a pitch anywhere in the strike zone and I’ll get exactly what I ask for.”

“I learned from the best,” Tzuyu grinned.

“Jihyo was quite the talent, huh?”

“She was,” Tzuyu replied, pressing her lips together as she dug through her locker. “So was Ari.”

“Well, I can’t exactly deny that,” Wonhee warily agreed.

“Hey, Wonhee!”

Speak of the devil.

“Oh, Ari, what’s up?” Wonhee replied through heavy breaths.

“Check this out,” Ari said, holding a baseball glove between her hands.

This wasn’t the glove she typically wore—the one she always used was black, but this one was a more traditional brown.

In fact, the glove itself was incredibly strange, lacking the standard webbing between the thumb and index finger.

“I wasn’t planning on utilizing it for this tournament, but I bought it for something I’ve been working on lately,” Ari said, showcasing the strange glove.

Ari handed the glove to Wonhee, who examined the object more closely. Tzuyu leaned forward, intrigued by what she was holding.

“There are six fingers in this glove…” Wonhee observed. “Ari, what is this?”

“It’s an ambidextrous glove,” Ari declared proudly. “I’ve been learning to be a switch pitcher.”

…Are you fucking kidding me?

Wonhee gave Ari a worried glance. “Is… Is that even allowed?”

“Yup,” Ari nodded gleefully. “So long as you declare which hand you intend to throw with, you can switch every time a new batter comes up to plate.”

“And you… can pitch with your left hand, too?”

“Not as well as my right,” Ari said, “but I can do it. Cool, huh?”

“I mean… Wow,” Wonhee stuttered, dumbfounded by the revelation.

In the past one-hundred years, there had been less than ten switch pitchers in major league history. The fact was, training both sides of your body to pull off such a task was near impossible. Most people would go their entire lives dreaming to pull off even a fraction of what Ari can pull off with her dominant hand. So, trying to train her non-dominant hand, to strengthen her legs, and her hips, to spend all the time practicing, it was… it was…

“You’re a fucking idiot, Ari,” Tzuyu snapped. Not loud enough for the whole room to notice, but enough to stop the conversation in its tracks.

“Tzu…?” Ari said, a look of genuine hurt reflected in her eyes.

She couldn’t do this, not here. Tzuyu felt years of pent up anger boiling in her throat, and if she didn’t leave, she was going to make a scene in front of everyone.

As quickly as she could manage, she grabbed the rest of her things, and stormed her way out of the locker room. She felt bad not saying goodbye to Wonhee or Ryujin, but she’d have to make it up to them later. She couldn’t be in that room any longer.

Gripping the bag strap by her shoulder with both hands, she kept up the brisk pace through the fluorescent-lit halls until she was out the door, escaping out to the back lot.

“Hey, Tzuyu, wait!”

Tzuyu squinted her eyes shut, trying to tame her frustration. She chose to ignore the voice behind her, embracing the cool air blowing through her hair.

But the sound wouldn’t relent.

Louder, and louder, her name kept being called, as the girl she so desperately wanted to ignore grew ever closer.

“Tzuyu…” Ari said, putting her hand on Tzuyu’s shoulder and blocking her path.

She refused to make eye contact, keeping her gaze low.

“What’s wrong?” Ari asked, her voice calm and kind. “If something’s the matter, you can tell me.”

Tzuyu kept silent.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

There it was.

The breaking point.

“Really?!” Tzuyu shouted, fiery eyes aimed at the girl. “You seriously fucking think that?!”

Ari jerked her hand back at Tzuyu’s outburst. The streetlamp illuminating the girl’s saddened eyes. Those painfully innocent eyes, like she didn’t know what she’d done.

“God, Ari, don’t you realize everyone on the team hates playing with you?! Yeji and Kazuha refuse to catch for you, leaving poor Wonhee to deal with fifteen innings of your shit. The only reason you’ve gotten this far is because you’re ridiculously talented at pitching, but that doesn’t make you good at baseball, and it certainly doesn’t make you a good teammate. We have a hard few games, and your answer is to add switch pitching to your list?! That’s your fucking problem, Ari. All you know is to brute force your way through life using your talents to make up for the fact you screw over everyone who tries to work with you. You don’t take them seriously, and you don’t take the game seriously. Instead of learning to work with Wonhee—who, by the way, is an amazing catcher—you just want to try and cheat past that part, because that would involve caring about another person. No, you’d rather buy a custom-made six-finger glove just to try and bullshit a few extra outs next game.”

“Tzuyu, I…” Ari stood frozen in place. “Okay, you’re right, I could be a better teammate, I hear you. Really, I do, okay, but… It sounds like you totally hate me now, a-and… Are we really not friends anymore because of baseball?”

Tzuyu bit her lip and turned away.

No. I won’t say it. I promised Momo I wouldn’t.

“We have a few days until our game with America,” Ari said to Tzuyu’s back. “Do you have any plans tomorrow night?”

“…Why?”

“Do you want to go out with me tomorrow night?”

Time seemed to stand still as Tzuyu processed the words that just hit her ear.

“Excuse me?” Tzuyu said, slowly turning back to look at Ari.

“I clearly screwed up somewhere along the way,” Ari said. “I’m not completely oblivious. No one on the team likes me. Sumin and I have never gotten along. I thought things were going okay with Ryujin, but now she wants nothing to do with me either. Tzuyu, you were the one person I thought I could still consider a friend, but… clearly I was wrong.”

Tzuyu furrowed her brow, trying to figure out exactly what Ari was trying to say.

“Tomorrow night, we can meet at the town square, the one by Yona we used to go to,” Ari said. “I want to try and fix things. But at the very least, if I can’t do that, I want to know what I did wrong.”

Before Tzuyu could respond, Ari turned her back.

“If you want, you can just tell me all the things I did wrong. Scream in my face, if you want. It’s up to you. But I’ll be there.”

A wave of people exited the stadium’s back door, and Ari let herself become swallowed whole by the crowd, leaving Tzuyu to the wind.

***

“Tzuyu, is that you?”

Tzuyu turned her head to a familiar face standing in the frozen aisle of her local convenience store.

“Hey, Momo,” Tzuyu said. “You’re out late.”

“O-oh, yeah, I’m just picking up some dessert for Mina, you know?”

Eyeing Momo’s attire top to bottom, Tzuyu had to wonder where she’d been. Neither girl was wearing a watch, but Tzuyu knew the time was well past 2:00am. For this time of night, was dressed awfully nice. Tight jeans and a crop top. Seemed a bit much for just a night in with Mina. There was something… different, about the way she carried herself.

She felt confident. Attractive.

Hot, to be honest.

There was no way she’d slipped this on just to grab 2:00am ice cream.

“What about you?” Momo asked, reaching down to grab a tub of chocolate mint ice cream. “Just doing some late night shopping as well?”

“It’s quiet at night,” Tzuyu said.

She’d also been fast asleep since coming home from practice at 5:00pm, only to wake up hungry to an empty fridge. Over the past few days she’d barely eaten because she hadn’t found the energy to restock the fridge.

“Fair enough,” Momo said. “Hmm… I wonder if she’ll like this…”

“Is Mina picky with her ice cream?” Tzuyu asked, grabbing a pile of frozen dinners from the freezer.

“Oh, uh…” Momo stuttered. “…Yeah, she’s picky.”

Tzuyu lay in her bed under the warmth of the afternoon sun, an old memory from her first year at Yona running through her head. She hadn’t thought about that night she ran into Momo in a long time, but the moment shone a little differently, knowing what she knew now.

Especially now that she knew Mina hated ice cream, and always had.

Perhaps that moment had been the only time Momo had ever lied to Tzuyu. Tzuyu couldn’t blame her. They hadn’t become friends yet—at least, to the extent they would later on—and she’d always meant to keep those moments with Ari a secret.

Nowadays, Tzuyu knew that ice cream in Momo’s hands had been meant for Ari, but back then, she had been none the wiser.

“I wonder if she liked the flavor Momo picked,” Tzuyu muttered to herself, opening her phone to check for new messages.

Supposedly, her “date” with Ari would begin in an hour, and she didn’t know what to do, or who to talk to about it. Nayeon was her first choice, but her thumb had hesitated when it came time to press send. Something about talking to any of the girls from Team Yona about this made her feel nervous. She felt ashamed from every direction.

Ashamed for being on a team with Ari.

Ashamed if she tried to be friends with her.

Ashamed if she let herself be angry with her.

Now, what? She was going to dress up and spend her evening with this girl?

Yet… Was this Ari’s way of trying to redeem herself? Did she really, sincerely want to mend her friendship with Tzuyu?

If she did want to mend their relationship…

…Was Tzuyu even allowed to do such a thing without betraying Momo?

Tzuyu clutched her phone.

Momo. Who was Tzuyu kidding? Momo was way too nice a person to be disappointed in Tzuyu over something like this. Besides, Ari had yet to reveal what she really wanted out of all this. Worrying this hard over speculation was pointless.

If this was Ari’s attempt at an apology, Tzuyu was at least going to hear her out. Tzuyu had said it herself—Ari wasn’t evil. She deserved at least this much.

Making up her mind, Tzuyu sat up, taking a deep breath before walking over to her closet. She wasn’t going to treat this like a real date, but she was going to at least wear something decent. Something better than the sweat pants and t-shirt she’d been rotting in all day.

She tried on a few outfits, deciding right away to nix anything with a skirt. Pants felt more comfortable, plus they wouldn’t be meeting until sunset, and the evening could get too cold for her legs as time went on. The last time Nayeon had taken her shopping, Nayeon had bought her this over-sized belt, insisting that Tzuyu looked good in it. At the time, Tzuyu had thought it to be gaudy, hence Nayeon buying it against her will, but… Seeing herself in the mirror, with her slanted belt over these tight black pants…

Okay, perhaps Nayeon had been right. Tzuyu felt really cute wearing this. Now she just needed a top, but any blouse that kept her arms free would do.

Going with a flowy, off-white top, Tzuyu double-checked the mirror and straightened her shirt, happy with her work.

I’m following Nayeon’s advice. Dressing for myself, to make myself confident. Not for anyone else.

Around this time, as she reached over to grab her makeup, Tzuyu remembered their meeting time was still almost an hour away. Strange how a simple change of mindset had turned an event she’d dreaded into something she’d become impatient waiting to arrive.

Today she’d have a nice time in town, with or without Ari. Tzuyu had to admit she was curious what was going to happen, but she wasn’t going to let the uncertainty take hold. She was done letting this hang over her.

Had Nayeon been here, she would have kicked Tzuyu’s ass out of bed hours ago, refusing to let her ruminate over her worries for so long.

But Nayeon wasn’t here anymore. Tzuyu would have to take care of herself.

A loud buzz echoed the room, her phone vibrating on the wooden nightstand, creating what Tzuyu always thought to be far too loud a noise for such a small object.

One hand occupied with her hair brush, she reached over for the phone, grinning as she saw who the sender was.

Wonhee: “Hey, Ryujin and I are gonna go see a movie later, you want in?”

Tzuyu: “Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve already got plans for tonight.”

Wonhee: “Aww, nothing you can’t bail on to spend time with your new bffs?”

Tzuyu: “I could, but I think tonight will be pretty interesting. I’ll tell you the details when it’s over.”

Wonhee: “Damn, now you’ve got me hooked. Can you give me a hint?”

Tzuyu: “Hmm… It’s not not a date.”

Wonhee: “Excuse me? Now I’m even more confused.”

Tzuyu: “Good. You guys have fun for me. Maybe you should invite Yeji in my place.”

Wonhee: “What, and risk making myself the third wheel? You think I want to watch a movie all alone while they make out in the back row?”

Tzuyu: “Or, you could be a good wingwoman for your heartbroken friend.”

Wonhee: “Screw that. She doesn’t need a girlfriend, she needs me.”

A snicker left Tzuyu’s mouth as she snapped her phone shut.

Left with nothing but the silence of her bedroom, Tzuyu turned back to the mirror, brush still in hand.

Well.

I suppose I should get ready for my date.

***

“H-hey.”

Tzuyu looked over shoulder as the girl’s voice gently reached her ear.

Streetlamps lit the girl’s face as the sun had nearly fallen behind the horizon. She wore an asymmetrical white skirt that rose up to her waist, with a maroon cut off sweater on top.

Her black boots had flower decorations on the belts, matching the flower hair clip that held her high ponytail. Curled strands of hair framed her nervous smile.

Despite all of the events preceding this moment, Ari had arrived totally done up, like this was a real date.

Even though she hadn’t even known if Tzuyu would arrive, or if she’d be spending the evening being yelled at.

“Hi,” Tzuyu replied awkwardly. “You look good.”

Ari seemed so shocked by the compliment she didn’t know how to respond. “Oh, r-really? I mean, thank you…”

Tzuyu closed her eyes, sighing as she slipped her hands into her back pockets. She’d thought of a million things she wanted to say to Ari—things she still intended to say—but she didn’t have it in her to say mean things to the girl standing before her, not now. They’d have their chance to talk.

“So,” Tzuyu said. “Where to?”

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Ari said, “not since I transferred to Yonsei, but I heard a new bakery opened up here a few years ago.”

“I know the place you’re talking about,” Tzuyu said. “They actually closed their doors a few months ago.”

“Oh, really?” Ari said, lowering her gaze. “I’m sorry, I must have been reading old reviews.”

You did research just for our date?

“There’s another one a little farther away,” Tzuyu said. “Opened up last year. It’s not quite as good, but if you really had your heart set on baked goods, it’ll do the trick.”

“If that’s okay with you,” Ari nodded.

“Yeah, come on,” Tzuyu said, motioning Ari to follow her. “I’ll lead the way.”

Ari held her hands to her chest, like a delicate princess, treating Tzuyu like her personal guard leading her through the crowd of common folk. Tzuyu could not understand what she was seeing. This wasn’t the Ari she knew, not even an ounce of it.

Where was that sporty, confident energy? Where were those arrogantly flirtatious comments? The smirks you just wanted to wipe off her face? The egotistical, self-centered act…

“I don’t quite understand her attitude,” Ryujin chimed in. “Even after our moment together, I felt like we were still playing a game, if that makes sense? Like she and I never connected emotionally.”

As the two women continued their awkward, silent walk through the town, Ryujin’s words echoed through Tzuyu’s head.

“I like your skirt,” Ari said, breaking their several-minute streak of silence. “The belt suits you.”

“Thanks,” Tzuyu said. “Nayeon got it for me, actually.”

“Is she doing okay?” Ari asked. “After Yona won the tournament, I never saw her play again.”

“She left the team after that,” Tzuyu said. “For personal reasons. She’s doing fine, though.”

“Oh, well it’s good to hear she’s doing well,” Ari said. “Back then, when we played against each other, I was really happy to see you’d kept up pitching. You seemed… Happier than when I left.”

“Did I?”

“Mhm,” Ari hummed. “I was a little worried about you while I was gone, but it looks like I nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah.”

Tzuyu continued leading their walk, with Ari following by her side. The air had never been so stale, and the unconventional nature of their situation began to creep away at Tzuyu’s skin, crawling up her shoulders until she felt the cold in her chest.

“Do they still have that little lake beach at the end of town?” Ari asked. “I used to like going there.”

“They do,” Tzuyu replied. “The bakery is the same direction, so we’re already walking that way. We can visit the beach, afterward, if you’d like.”

“S-sure.”

Their walk reverted to silence, and Tzuyu could feel her lungs getting frostbite from the cold air between the former friends. At this point, she’d resigned herself to the silence, hoping the natural activity of ordering their food would help chip away at the iceberg between them.

Night had fully taken over, their walk fully illuminated by street lamps, combined with the amber glows emanating from passing store windows.

“We’re here,” Tzuyu said, pointing at the cakes on display through the front glass.

“This looks really good,” Ari said, her eyes widening.

Tzuyu started to reach for the door, but Ari crossed in front of her to get to the handle first, holding wooden door open.

“After you,” Ari offered.

“Okay,” Tzuyu said. “Thanks.”

She stepped inside the cool interior, feeling a gust of wind as the door shut behind her.

“This is even nicer than I remember,” Tzuyu marveled.

“The red carpets, the gold displayware…” Ari said. “It feels so royal.”

The store had a gentle atmosphere. Carpets that swallowed the echoes, quiet music in the background, and only a few other customers roaming around.

Tzuyu already knew what she was going to get, but followed Ari around as the girl closely examined everything the store had to offer. The way she swung from shelf to shelf, contemplating just what treat she wanted to snag, felt like watching a kid at a candy store.

“What do you think, Tzu?”

“You’ve looked at a lot of different things, but you keep coming back to that chocolate cake.”

“Hmm… That’s a good point.” With a triumphant huff, Ari put her hands on her hips. “You know what, you’re right. I’m going with the chocolate.”

“Do you happen to like choco-mint ice cream?” Tzuyu asked.

“I do, actually!” Ari said. “How’d you know that?”

Tzuyu shook her head. “Just a guess.”

“What about you?” Ari asked. “You’ve hardly looked around. Do you already know what you want?”

“I certainly do,” Tzuyu grinned, pointing to a shelf of sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles. “I love these ones.”

“Is that sugar, layered on your sugar, pasted on your baked sugar?”

“It sure is,” Tzuyu said. “And I love it.”

“I never took you for such a sweet tooth,” Ari said, securing their spot in the line to order.

“I always loved baking, and over the past few years Jihyo and I have gone on binges of making all sorts of stuff. She always ridiculed me, saying if she left me alone, everything I’d make would turn into candy.”

“The sounds like Jihyo,” Ari nodded, the light in her eyes dimming ever so slightly. “I do miss her.”

Tzuyu didn’t know how to respond to that one.

“I heard a rumor going around that she and Momo got together,” Ari continued. “Is that true?”

“It is,” Tzuyu said. “They’re engaged, actually.”

“Seriously?” Ari’s jaw dropped. “Back when I was at Yona, I never would have suspected those two would end up together.”

“They were already together by the time we played our game against each other,” Tzuyu said.

“No way, really? They’ve been together a long time already then. Honestly, though, I can see it. I hope the best for them.”

“I expect them to stay together forever.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Ari said. “I heard about Mina and Sana as well, although that one I knew about when it happened. Word got around fast.”

“Mina was kind of insane for that proposal,” Tzuyu said, taking a step forward as the line moved up. She and Ari were up next.

“How are you doing with that?”

“With what?” Tzuyu said, feigning ignorance.

“Sana getting married,” Ari clarified. “I know you really liked her.”

“Oh, that.” Tzuyu averted her gaze, eyeing a strawberry cupcake by front window. “Everything worked out how it was supposed to. I’m happy.”

“I’m glad, then,” Ari said.

The couple in front of them finished up at the counter, and the two girls discussed their order with the server.

“We’ll take it to go,” Tzuyu said, turning to Ari right after. “We’re close to the beach you talked about. There’s a nice place we can sit and eat.”

“Here you go,” the server said. “How would you like to pay?”

“I’ve got it,” Ari said, pulling out her credit card.

“We can split—” Tzuyu began, but Ari pushed past her.

“My treat, Tzu,” Ari said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay…” Tzuyu conceded, letting the girl pay for the both of them.

Once all was said and done, Ari turned with a grin on her face and the bag of their goods in her hand.

“…Thanks,” Tzuyu said.

“You’re welcome,” Ari said. “Come on, show me the place you were talking about.”

***

The two girls had spent the rest of their walk surrounded in silence once again, but this time the air hadn’t been so harsh on the lungs.

As they sat at a little table near the beach front, Tzuyu didn’t find herself uncomfortable in Ari’s company, not the same way she had a little while ago.

“Thank you for coming out with me, Tzu,” Ari said, each of the girls about halfway through their cakes and cookies.

“Don’t thank me,” Tzuyu said, shaking her head as she bit off a piece of her cookie. “I shouldn’t have been so mean to you last night. You’ve actually been really nice to me today. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to apologize,” Ari said, cutting off another piece of cake. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

Tzuyu nodded slowly, allowing Ari to talk.

“You’re right. I’m a really bad teammate, and over the last few years, I’ve started to realize that,” Ari continued. “After a while, it felt like my teammates were playing a different game than I was. Like I was just someone who could throw a ball. For years, I was too self-absorbed in my love for pitching, I’d forgotten there were eight other people on the field with me. I imagine Yonsei dealt with it by quietly just adapting to my selfish behavior. My talent was just a tool they wanted, so they bent over backwards to put up with me to get it.”

Tzuyu watched as Ari mindlessly scraped her fork against the plate, having successfully finished cutting off her piece a long time ago.

“It’s my fault, I know it is,” Ari continued, her hand freezing up, “but I don’t know how it got here. And I don’t know how to fix it. At certain point I’d told myself that if my pitching talent was all I had, then I’d make that my whole identity. I’d use that to make my presence worth dealing with. Even now, I thought if I implemented my ability to pitch with my left hand too, that might make Wonhee like me better. At least she’d get even more value out of putting up with me, you know?”

“She’d like you more if you listened to her calls, and didn’t surprise her with random pitches,” Tzuyu said.

“I’ve had that habit since all the way back when I was pitching for Kaya,” Ari said. “She hated me for it, but we won games because of my decisions. I guess I just thought this was a necessary part of who I was. That trusting myself was part of my talent as a pitcher. Part of what made me have worth. I see that isn’t the case now. Wonhee is a really talented player and I’ve been disrespecting her.”

“She’s a really nice person, too,” Tzuyu said. “If you talk with her, I’m sure you two will make amends in an instant.”

“You think so?” Ari asked, looking up at Tzuyu.

“Yeah,” Tzuyu replied, “I do.”

Ari finally took another bite of her cake. “Tzu… Am I bad a person?”

Tzuyu pulled the cookie she was about to bite into out from behind her teeth. “Why do you ask?”

“As the years go by, people seem to like me less and less,” Ari said. “I feel like that’s a pretty good indicator.”

“…Usually.”

“Over time, I realized that fact, and I took it as my sign to look at myself. Really look at myself. Change my trajectory before it was too late, and…” Ari took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I came to the realization I don’t think I’m very good at understanding other people’s feelings. I feel like I went through life thinking everything was great, unaware of the fact I was hurting people. Since then, I’ve started paying more and more attention, and I realize there were so many obvious signals I missed. Facial expressions people made that I didn’t understand at the time. Gestures they made, things they said or did that indicated they were unhappy… God, I feel like such an idiot looking back. I’ve been hurting people all this time and never even realized it.”

“Ari…”

“I’ve thought really really hard about some of the people I might have hurt,” Ari said. “Really, Tzu, I want to change, and I’ve been trying to hard to figure it out for myself, which is why I’m really sorry to have to ask this… but I can’t for the life of my figure out what I did to make you not consider me a friend anymore.”

Tzuyu leaned back, her eyes softening at the vulnerability from the girl before her.

“Was it… because I left Yona?” Ari said, likely a nervous attempt to fill the silence. “Logically, it really made sense for me to go to Yonsei, I had a lot more opportunities there, I figured you would understand, but… If it’s not that, I’ve spent all day thinking over all our memories together, and I just… I can’t figure out why you’d hate me now.”

She had to say it.

If Ari was going to be this open and honest, she couldn’t hold it in longer. She couldn’t keep hiding things from a girl trying this hard.

I’m sorry, Momo.

“You hurt my friend,” Tzuyu said. “You hurt Momo.”

“I… I did?” Ari furrowed her brow. “I know she was really mad at me for leaving, but most of the girls were…”

“Did you seriously not realize she was in love with you?” Tzuyu glared. “She was truly, sincerely, in love with you, and you used her for sex. Even bragged about it to Sana.”

“Huh?” Ari said, utterly taken aback. “No way, I wasn’t using her. I liked Momo a lot. And with Sana… I didn’t think of that as bragging. I thought Sana was a friend. Isn’t that type of girl talk normal?”

“You and Momo had agreed to keep it a secret,” Tzuyu said.

“Yeah, but… doesn’t everyone tell a friend or two?” Ari asked. “Isn’t that normal? If you were dating a new girl, wouldn’t you tell Nayeon?”

“…Sometimes that’s true, yes, but… Sana wasn’t even a close friend of yours.”

“Was she not?”

“No?” Tzuyu tilted her head. “What made you think she was?”

“I don’t know, she was always really nice to us all,” Ari said. “Really affectionate, always hugging us when we got to the field. I thought that meant she thought of me as a friend.”

“I…” Tzuyu exhaled, taking a bite of one of her last cookies, trying to get her mind back on track. “That’s not important. You still took advantage of Momo.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t take advantage of her,” Ari defended, “she wanted to do all of this. I… I really enjoyed our time together, and thought she was a good friend, but I thought it was clear that it wouldn’t last forever…”

Ari trailed off, fear overtaking her eyes.

“…Was it not?”

“…No, not to her,” Tzuyu reluctantly admitted.

Ari moved her gaze over to the beach and out to the night-colored water. “No wonder you hate me, huh?”

“Ari, I don’t…” Tzuyu sighed. “Momo means a lot to me.”

“She should,” Ari nodded. “She’s a really good person.”

“Momo got over it sooner than I did,” Tzuyu said. “She stopped thinking about you a long, long time ago. I’m the one who held this grudge for so long.”

“You’re a good person too, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu turned her gaze to the water Ari couldn’t take her eyes off of.

“Come on, let’s to step onto the beach.”

“Huh, really?” Ari asked, but Tzuyu had already stood up, taking her final bite of cookie into her mouth, gathering both girls’ excess packaging and tossing it into a nearby trash..

“Yeah, come on,” Tzuyu said, stabbing the final bite of Ari’s cake with a fork, bending over and holding it in front of her mouth. “Open up.”

“Tzu—”

“Ahhhhhh,” Tzuyu prompted.

Ari did as instructed, opening her mouth. Tzuyu plopped the final piece of cake inside, promptly throwing away the fork and plate while Ari finished chewing.

As soon as Ari swallowed, and Tzuyu was sure she wouldn’t choke, she grabbed the girl by the hand and drug her to the beach entrance.

“Hey, Tzu, wait,” Ari stumbled from behind. “Shouldn’t we take off our shoes?”

“Just a little sand,” Tzuyu said. “We’ll live.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Ari laughed, following her lead.

This time of night in their small little town, the two of them were practically alone as they strolled across the shoreline.

The ocean air was warm and comfortable. Tzuyu wasn’t sure what she felt in that moment, but she didn’t have it in her to keep making that girl’s eyes sad.

Tzuyu didn’t want to live with those feelings of anger anymore.

“Disliking people feels bad, in my experience. Forgiving them feels much better.”

Perhaps her friend had had it right all along.

Whether Ari had earned forgiveness or not, Tzuyu didn’t care anymore. The girl holding her hand, pointing to a nearby seagull, wasn’t evil.

In fact, she was trying to be a better person, and that alone showed her to be a whole lot better than a lot of the people Tzuyu had met in her life.

“I’ll be your friend again, Ari,” Tzuyu said.

“Tzuyu?”

“I’m not saying I forgive you,” Tzuyu continued. “And I’ll never, ever forgive how you treated Momo.”

Ari nodded.

“But I don’t have it in me to hold a grudge against someone who is trying so hard.”

“I’ll take that,” Ari said. “Thank you so much, Tzuyu.”

“Don’t thank me,” Tzuyu said. “Thank me by proving you’re a better person now than you were then.”

“I will,” Ari said. “I promise. I won’t you let down.”

“Don’t do it for me either,” Tzuyu said. “Do it for the people around you, and do it for yourself.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone who matters to me again,” Ari said.

Tzuyu laughed, shaking her head. “I hope that’s not true.”

“What?”

“The people who matter the most are the only ones you have the power to really hurt,” Tzuyu said. “I hope at some point in your life you’re able to connect with someone well enough to open yourselves up to being hurt by each other. And, if you it does happen again, I hope you care enough about them to apologize when you do.”

***

“Hey…” Ari began. “…You’re friends with Ryujin, right? She and I had a moment together the other day which I thought went really well, but she’s been avoiding me ever since. Is there any chance she maybe said something? About us? I don’t know what I did wrong… I really liked her.”

Tzuyu winced. “That might have been my fault.”

“Oh…” Ari frowned. “That’s okay. I probably deserved it.”

“S-sorry about that,” Tzuyu apologized. “But… There’s a silver lining here! You didn’t do anything wrong. I was just worried you would hurt her, but you hadn’t done anything bad.”

Tzuyu had ended up trying to console the situation by telling Ari how Ryujin had feelings for another woman anyway and that it probably never would have worked out. She didn’t know how much that had really helped, but Ari had seemed to accept it.

Pulling into the Sarang parking lot, everything that had happened that night felt like a dream. After their walk on the beach, the atmosphere had remained light on their walk back through the town. They’d stayed together, chatting about simple things, even reminiscing about their time in Yona together. Tzuyu had almost forgotten Ari didn’t live near Yona anymore, and had a decently long drive to get back to her home for the night.

“Drive safe,” Tzuyu said.

“Thanks,” Ari replied, inserting her key into her car door. “Actually, Tzu, there’s one more thing…”

“What is it?”

“About Momo,” Ari said, her hand frozen on the key. “Would it… be wrong of me to apologize?”

“Apologize? To Momo?”

“Yeah. I know it’s really late… Years too late, and she’s happily moved on, so I don’t know if an apology is something she’d even want to hear. If I really hurt her the way you say, then she probably hates me. Who would want to hear from someone like that?”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Tzuyu clarified. “Momo doesn’t have it in her to hate. Like I said, she got over you long ago. I’m the one who didn’t move on.”

Putting her hands on her hips, Tzuyu sighed as she looked up at the full moon.

“I’ve meddled enough. I won’t tell you if you should apologize or not. But, if you do…”

Tzuyu lowered her eyes, gazing at her old friend one last time.

“…Make sure that apology is for her, and not just to appease your own conscious.”

“Earth to Tzuyu. Hello?”

Tzuyu, who had zoned out entirely over memories of the previous night, found herself in the halls of Sarang stadium standing next to Ryujin.

“Sorry,” Tzuyu said. “What’s up, Ryujin?”

“Just saying hi,” Ryujin smiled. “You missed a banger night with Wonhee last night.”

“Oh, yeah? You two party hard?”

“Well we cried at a romcom,” Ryujin said, “then got some soda and candy and played video games at Wonhee’s.”

“My bad, I didn’t realize we were back in middle school.”

Ryujin pushed against Tzuyu’s shoulder playfully. “I missed you, though.”

“You know, the way you talk to me, you’d think we’ve been friends longer than just a few days,” Tzuyu grinned.

“Call it love at first sight,” Ryujin said, wrapping her arm around Tzuyu. “For real, though, I’m really happy I met you two. But now I’m getting a little sad. Itsuki and Iris are both several hours away from Yona. We won’t be able to hang out like this all the time after the tournament.”

The all-stars tournament was mostly an exhibition for spectators, and to help scout players for major league. As such, the game versus America in a few days was already the finals. Their time playing for Sarang had already nearly reached its end.

“You’re right, it felt more like a long weekend vacation,” Tzuyu nodded. “To be honest, Ryujin, I was really worried about going out to the field without all of my friends by my side, but… Maybe it’s cheesy, but I feel just a bit more able to stand on my own two feet now. You guys made me feel safe in a new place, and I’m truly grateful for that.”

“I forgot, you’re older than I am,” Ryujin said. “Your friends all graduated a few weeks ago didn’t they? You’re the only one still studying at Yona?”

Tzuyu nodded.

“Damn,” Ryujin frowned. “At least I still have the girls back at Itsuki, and Wonhee has the Iris girls, but, Tzuyu…”

“I’m all alone now,” Tzuyu acknowledged. “But it’s okay. I’ll find my place. Life hasn’t always had a clear path forward for me, but… I feel a little more ready to look for that path than I used to.”

“Still, I won’t settle for leaving you all alone all year,” Ryujin said, shaking her head.

“There isn’t a whole lot you can do,” Tzuyu laughed.

“Maybe not during the school year,” Ryujin said. “But on break? Spring vacation? You, me, and Wonhee, we could rent out a little place and hang out just the three of us.”

“Really?” Tzuyu raised her eyebrows. “You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ryujin grinned. “You could invite your friend Nayeon too—the one really important to you.”

“Maybe you could invite Yeji, too, if things work out,” Tzuyu said.

“Don’t give me hope,” Ryujin sighed.

“I think you have more of a chance than you think,” Tzuyu said.

“And what makes you say that, Chou?”

“Just a hunch.”

“You want me to risk breaking my heart over a hunch?”

Tzuyu nodded eagerly.

“You’d better be ready with fresh cookies and a movie marathon if things go south,” Ryujin said. “Maybe some ice cream.”

“I hate ice cream,” Tzuyu said. “But I can promise those other things.”

Ryujin smiled, removing her arm from around Tzuyu’s shoulders as she reached for the locker room door.

“Wait,” Tzuyu whispered, reaching for Ryujin’s wrist to halt her motion.

“Huh? What is it?”

“It’s about Ari,” Tzuyu said. “I made a mistake. She wasn’t messing with you back then… Actually, she really likes you. I’m not saying you should go and date her—unless you want to, of course—but… We shouldn’t be cold to her.”

Ryujin raised her brow. “That’s a rather different point of view than the one you had last night, screaming at her and all that.”

“I-I know,” Tzuyu said, still embarrassed by her outburst. “Last night, when I turned down your invite, I was actually… I was with Ari all night.”

Ryujin’s eyes grew wide.

“No,” Tzuyu said. “Not like that. We just… we talked. A lot. About everything that had happened between us.”

Ryujin nodded understandingly. “That’s good. I’m surprised, but I’m glad you guys did that. How did it… Well, where do you two stand now?”

“I didn’t forgive her,” Tzuyu said. “She was a bad person to my friend, even if she didn’t mean it. I’m never going to be okay with that.”

“…But?”

“But,” Tzuyu said. “She’s trying to be a better person. In fact, I think she already is one. So, I let go of all my hate. We made amends. We became friends again.”

Tzuyu let Ryujin’s wrist go, expecting her to use her freedom to open the locker room door. Instead, she used to wrap her arms around Tzuyu’s neck.

“I’m proud of you,” Ryujin said. “I don’t know many people who could find it in their hearts to do something like that.”

“I don’t think I had it in me a few years ago,” Tzuyu admitted. “To move on from something like this, it would have felt impossible, but… I saw a friend of mine grant a tormented girl the kindest act of forgiveness I’d ever seen, and… I suppose it inspired me to be like her.”

“Sounds like an amazing friend,” Ryujin said.

“She is,” Tzuyu said. “I used to hate her.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tzuyu smiled, finally pushing open the locker room door, “but that’s a story for a different time.”

***

“I can’t believe we did it,” Wonhee cheered, currently riding Ryujin piggyback.

“Tzu was amazing out there,” Ari said. “My strength was slipping at the end of the fourth inning. I’m really glad Juna swapped Tzuyu in when she did.”

“You’re still insane for pitching during all three games,” Ryujin said.

“I know, I know, but…”

“You were a lot better than our second-string,” Wonhee admitted. “We couldn’t have done it without you Ari.”

“Did I catch you talking to a pro scout back there?” Tzuyu asked.

“I was,” Ari said. “I talked to a few, actually.”

“You think you’re going major league after this?”

“Yeah,” Ari said, wistfully gazing up and the stars. “I think I will.”

The four girls celebrated their tournament win as they walked through the stadium’s back parking lot. Only a few nights ago, Tzuyu had yelled at Ari in this very lot. She couldn’t help but appreciate the lightness her heart felt the way things were now.

First game against America had been a loss. To be blunt, Ari had pitched terribly, and the whole team had known it.

Wonhee had been the first one to recognize the problem. In that first game, Ari had actually listened to everything Wonhee had asked. Ari had extended her attempts to be a better teammate so far that she’d accidentally lost what had made her special.

In between games, the two girls had spent hours working on their communication. Starting game two, they’d worked out a system that had let Ari take the lead, but not in a way that would leave Wonhee completely blindsided.

The new arrangement had worked flawlessly. Sarang had completely turned the tides against America during the second game, although by the second half America had begun to re-stabilize, leaving concern for the third and final game.

“Next game is going to be hard,” Ari said. “We really banked on denying those early runs, and living off that home run Sumin hit. There’s no guarantee she can do that again.”

“Don’t worry about getting runs,” Ryujin said. “Leave that to me and Wonhee. Just focus on pitching.”

“Ari,” Wonhee began, “after our game against Japan, you mentioned something you wanted to try…”

Ari raised her eyebrows. “You mean it?”

“Tomorrow morning, in the bullpen,” Wonhee nodded. “Let’s try it. Bring your new glove.”

“The fact you can actually pitch that well with your left hand is insane,” Ryujin said.

“Did you see the look on that first batter’s face when you swapped hands?” Wonhee asked. “Priceless.”

At this point, the girls had stopped really walking anywhere, and were loitering under a streetlamp, reliving their victory.

This was the last time they’d all play together, after all. Tzuyu hadn’t wanted to admit it earlier, but she too was incredibly sad to say goodbye. She’d just had to say goodbye to all her friends a few months ago, and now she had to do it all over again?

That hardly seemed fair now, did it?

“Is that her?”

Tzuyu heard a familiar voice in the distance.

“There she is!”

Another familiar voice.

She’d recognize those two anywhere.

Amidst the surprise and confusion from hearing such an unexpected sound, Tzuyu found the warmth in her heart overwhelmed all the other feelings.

She turned on her heel toward the voices.

“Nayeon,” Tzuyu smiled. “Momo.”

Nayeon wasted no time before throwing her arms around Tzuyu’s neck.

“I missed you,” Nayeon said, squeezing Tzuyu by the shoulders.

“I missed you so much,” Tzuyu said. “You too, Momo, get over here…”

Momo joined in on the hug, and the three of them stood under the streetlamp, totally absent-minded of the other girls around them.

For a moment, a piece of the original Team Yona was together again.

“What you guys doing here?” Tzuyu asked, wiping her misty eyes.

“To congratulate you, of course!” Nayeon said. “All of you.”

“Whoa, I’m getting congratulated by the Nayeon?” Wonhee marveled. “Tzuyu has told me so much about you.”

“You all played amazing out there,” Momo said. “Seriously. You’re all super talented. Ryujin, seeing your ability to make contact was even more impressive on person—and I’m used to seeing Sana.”

“You guys were here for the game?!” Tzuyu exclaimed.

“Duh,” Nayeon smirked. “We watched all three games.”

“Really?!” Tzuyu blushed. “I… I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Nayeon winked. “Didn’t want to make you nervous.”

“…I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Of course!” Nayeon said. “Mina and Jihyo really wanted to come as well, but you know how it is… Life picked up awful quickly after graduation. Not a moment to breathe.”

“Wonhee, how’d you like catching for my girl?” Momo asked. “Fun how accurate she is, isn’t it?”

“Tzuyu is an incredible pitcher,” Wonhee said, Ryujin fighting to put her down, but Wonhee refusing to let go. “Hard as hell to tell what pitch is coming out, though. Thank God she listens to hand signals.”

“Tell me about it,” Momo laughed.

Then, Momo’s face changed, just a little. The rest of the world might not have seen it, but Tzuyu did. Her eyes had grown a shade more uncertain as they changed targets.

“You really used your left hand in the second inning, didn’t you?” Momo asked, not using her name, but clearly talking to Ari.

Ari nodded, seemingly too scared to speak.

Momo glanced at Tzuyu, who returned a nervous smile.

Apparently, seeing Tzuyu’s reaction was enough. A soft grin washed over Momo’s face. “Seriously impressive stuff. They had bases loaded and you completely shut them down. That inning might have won you guys the game.”

“Th-thank you,” Ari said.

Momo left it at that, the two girls not sharing another word with each other.

Everyone stayed together for a few minutes longer, their conversation ending when Ryujin finally threatened to throw Wonhee on to the concrete.

“We’re having an after party at Tzuyu’s,” Ryujin said. “All of you are invited, if you’d like to come too, Momo, Nayeon.”

“God, I’d love to,” Nayeon said, “but I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

“Same here,” Momo said. “Man, you guys are living the good life. I’m starting to miss Yona already.”

“It was so amazing seeing you guys again,” Tzuyu said, offering each of her friends on last hug.

Ari had started off to her car before Ryujin stopped her.

“You coming to the party?” Ryujin asked.

“Me?” Ari asked.

“Obviously.”

“I’d… I’d like that.”

“Alright then,” Ryujin declared. “No need for goodbyes, because I’ll being see you all again shortly.”

“Sounds good,” Tzuyu smiled. “See you soon, Ryujin.”

Ryujin waved as she hurriedly jogged to her car. At the rate she was going, she was going to beat Tzuyu to her own apartment and have to wait outside for Tzuyu to let her in.

“I suppose that’s that then,” Wonhee said. “Nice meeting you guys, Nayeon, Momo. Tzuyu, I’ll see you at your place.”

Wonhee ran off toward Moka’s car, which seemed to already be on and running. Moka must have already been in there waiting for her.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to be leaving now too,” Nayeon said. “But it looks like you’re doing just fine.”

“I am,” Tzuyu said. “I really am doing okay on my own.”

“I knew you would,” Nayeon said, giving one more hug. “I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.”

“Alright, alright, you should get going,” Tzuyu said. “Otherwise I’m going to hold on to you forever.”

“Okay,” Nayeon said, breaking off the hug. “We’ll see each other again soon.”

As Tzuyu watched her friends turn away, there was still one more thing she wanted to say, and she knew it. She could have texted after they left, or called, or anything, but Tzuyu didn’t want that. She wanted to say it to her friend’s eyes.

“Wait, Momo,” Tzuyu said.

“Huh?” Momo asked, turning around. “What is it?”

“I…” Tzuyu stiffened up. “Ari, she… I decided to be her friend again.”

A knowing grin touched the corner of Momo’s lips. “Yeah? I’m glad.”

“Glad? You’re not upset at me?”

Momo shook her head. “I know how much you would have stood up for me. I trust you, Tzu. You’d never be friends with someone who would hurt the people you care about, so if she’s someone you think deserves to be your friend again, then… Maybe she’s not that person from all the years ago anymore.”

Tzuyu nodded. “I’ve missed you, Momo.”

“It’s only been a few months,” Momo laughed, pulling Tzuyu in for a final hug. “I’ve missed you too.”

With that, Momo spun around, jogging to catch up with Nayeon who was waiting for her at the car.

Tzuyu stood still as the night’s breeze brushed against her cheek. Standing beneath the street lamp, moments ago she’d been surrounded by so many friends. Now, she stood all by herself.

The world had grown quiet.

The night was still dark.

Under the moonlight, only her own shadow was cast.

Yet, despite it all…

Tzuyu didn’t feel alone.