Inspiration

Inspiration

Miyuki Kazuya X Reader

                The distinct crunch of sand resounded throughout the field as the batter marched into the batter’s box, despite the loud cheers the air particles danced to. As the batter swung the shaft of his bat behind his back, giving it a nice stretch, girls strung the strings of their vocal chords playing a high pitched frequency, waves of sound emerged from deep within their throats. The waves weaved themselves together, tangling each other in an endless tango, forming knots among braids as they resonated, shamelessly dancing throughout the practice grounds, through the batter’s helmet and into his ears.

                However he cared not for the squeals or the cheers. Electrical signals sparked, shooting along his body, tracing the intricate circuitry of his body, exciting every nerve, leaving no corner unexplored. Travelling to his face, they lifted the edge of his mouth into a pleased smirk. While there, some sparks became trapped within his eyes. Bouncing wildly, they sparked with their unreleased energy, emitting a wondrous glow, making his hazel eyes gleam. The thick, tailored lines of his eyebrows, along with his eyelids, shifted downwards as if struggling to contain this energy.

                Even within the great noise, there was silence. A silence, that weighed down upon the opposing faction like a heavy coat of chainmail. A silence, among the coursing excitement, resembling a purifying fire-eradicating all distractions. A silence, of a sincere admiration, seemingly muted among the deafening claims of false admiration.

oO0-_-_-_-0Oo

You sat on the rough surface of the steps leading into the field where the batter had stood about an hour ago. You elbows neatly propped on your knees, you rest your face on your fisted hands. Your eyes traced the lines of the field, drawing patterns within your mind, the scene before you transforming into vibrant colors swaying to your natural rhythm. The pitcher pitched, catcher caught, fielders ran cooperating to retire a single batter or tag a pair of runners. The machinery of the team working seamlessly and efficiently all together…all within your head.

Sighing, you closed your eyes as the wind mirthfully teased your hair. Enjoying the wisps of the wind that brushed your cheeks, tempting them to lift upwards and smile for it. Assisting its friend, the sun, threw rays of its warmth at you as it was bowing its head to the horizon.

                It was when the field was empty like this that the elements bent to your will. Illustrating a series of stories, legends that started, developed, and emerged on these grounds. These grounds that people tread on without a care…These grounds that countless swarmed around without the slightest appreciation for their true significance.

                Aaaa-aaaaah, you were much too poetic. You smiled nostalgically, lifting your head towards the sky, one knee falling against the other, as you leaned backwards on the palms of your hands. This only happened to you whenever you watched that person play. Only was it when he was enjoying the game that his true strength ever emerged.

                Aaaa-aaaaah, whenever he was up to bat, your hands would tremble at your sides itching to grab a bat of their own. You knew that it wasn’t nearly as easy as it appeared, however…you wanted to try. Every single time he went up to bat. If that wasn’t bad enough…whenever he hopped to his feet within an instant and threw the ball into his teammate’s glove with such great speed that it seemed to have teleported from one end of the diamond to the next sending flares of energy flying about within the air your heart would be ignited by such flares, shooting adrenaline into the waterpark of your bloodstream, leaving it to play around as it saw fit with no regards to its effects on your behavior.

                There was a beauty to his plays. Their sleek continuous exteriors inspired envy from those who surrounded him. The ease with which they seemed to be executed spoke tales of great effort and triumph. He’d had a talent; however as with many of the boulder fragments which plopped into a river, it had been rough in texture, possibly tearing at the skin of those who attempted to remove it from the stream, complete with spiked edges and pores. However, by lodging itself within the rougher currents, it became smoothed and polished with time.

                The pleased expression of the batter branded within your mind, you rose to your feet. His love for his likely profession ignited a fire of desire to chase after your own dreams. Your heart began to drum at an increased tempo, synchronising with the energetic march of your thoughts. Only people who could achieve great success could inspire such positive feelings.

oO0-_-_-_-0Oo

 “Thank you,” you smiled brightly at the baseball player who’d inspired such wonderful things.

The boy’s mouth turned downwards, his honey eyes narrowing behind the thick black frames of his glasses. After all, you were a girl whom he’d never interacted with, thanking him suddenly. “See you around!” You walked on ahead of him, giving him a view of the skirt you wore down to below your knees, a defining feature that he could use to identify you among the many skirts that did little to cover the miles of smooth, cream-like skin most high school girls enjoyed exposing to the world.

Strolling onto the baseball field, your display of gratitude was loosely filed within the archives of his mind, a mental wind blowing it to the front of his brain occasionally. However the file was only reopened when he spotted your form sitting cross-legged behind the fence, staring out at the field and the various players performing various duties, while occasionally tracing an answer or two to your homework. Despite his distance, he could make out the vague sparkles of light reflected within your eyes.

Immediately after practice ended the catcher hurried to shred his armor, a parching thirst to know what he’d done to deserve your gratitude consuming him. All the while, you’d begun to place your belongings within your bag. However as you shifted in your seated position, your pencil fell out of your notebook and rolled far to the side out of your reach. Struggling to reach it, you decided to pick it up after you’d packed up your other belongings.

“Here,” a smooth voice with a slight rasp spoke, as a certain baseball player handed you your pencil.

“Oh, thanks,” you blinked, surprised that the boy had approached you.

As you placed the pencil within its rightful position in your pencil case you terminated your task of packing up. Rising to your feet your eyes widened, exposing the whites of your eyes. “Um,” you hummed nervously, “can I help you?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he grinned, “I don’t recall doing anything for you-” he’d began.

“So you want to know why I thanked you?” You smiled at him slightly.

The weighty cloth of his gaze and silence answered your question. Slowly bringing your hand to toy with some stray strands you smiled sheepishly, “you always smile when you’re at bat,” you glanced in his direction, however your eyes strayed away soon after, unable to withstand his attention you sighed, “and you laugh when you’re catching,” your smile intensified, eager to transfer all of your appreciation into the words you were about to pitch in his direction, “seeing you enjoy what you’ve dedicated yourself to,” his eyes widened at the glimmer that appeared within your eyes and the joy within your words, “and seeing you do things so smoothly-just making it look so easy when it’s actually really difficult,” your smile stretched, “it’s really inspiring!” You giggled embarrassedly. “It makes me want to do what I love doing too!” Your eyes met. “So thank you for giving me the courage to do that.”

How interesting… was all he could think as you walked away from him yet again.