Love At First Pitch - Kenji Sato

nineteen

I wiped my slightly sweaty palms onto my lacy green top, which I had paired with black jean shorts and strappy sandals. Taking a shaky breath, I laced my arm through Kenji's, seeking some semblance of stability. He looked at me with understanding, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "It'll be alright, just don't listen to them, focus on me."

His voice had a calming effect, and I felt a bit of my anxiety melt away. I nodded, and we walked on together. As Kenji pushed open the glass doors that led to the dressing room behind the dugout, camera flashes went crazy, practically blinding me. I blinked rapidly, trying to regain my vision amidst the chaos.

A flood of questions hit us like a tidal wave. The ones I managed to catch were, "Kenji, how long have you been dating this woman, and who is she?" and "Kenji Sato, how long have you had a secret girlfriend?" and "The fans want to know who she is."

I momentarily freaked out, feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention. But then, I felt the reassuring squeeze of Kenji's hand, encouraging me to move on. I took a deep breath, zoning out all the paparazzi and focusing solely on Kenji. His presence was my anchor, and as long as I had him by my side, I knew I could get through this.

With each step we took, the noise around us seemed to fade into the background. Kenji's calm demeanor helped me center myself, and I found solace in the rhythm of our footsteps. The questions continued to come, but they became nothing more than a distant hum in my ears. I focused on the warmth of Kenji's hand in mine, his steady grip reminding me that I wasn't alone in this.

As we moved deeper into the stadium, the intensity of the flashing cameras began to subside, though the paparazzi still trailed behind, eager for any scrap of information. Kenji led us with confidence, his posture unwavering, and I mirrored his strength, drawing from his unwavering support.

Finally, we reached the dressing room, the door closing behind us with a reassuring click. The sudden quiet was almost disorienting after the chaos outside. I took a moment to catch my breath, my heart still racing from the encounter. Kenji turned to me, his eyes filled with concern and affection.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Yeah."

As I ascended the stairs to the private box area, I felt a sense of anticipation, unaware of the swarm of reporters waiting just around the corner. The moment I rounded the corner, a sudden flash startled me, and I jumped back, blinking rapidly as I tried to regain my composure. Before I could fully process what was happening, a microphone was shoved towards my mouth. I opened my mouth to speak but snapped it shut again, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over me as I looked up at the huge camera lens pointed straight at me.

"I'm just trying to get to my seat," I said uneasily, attempting to step forward. But the swarm of reporters moved with me, blocking my path.

"Is it true you're dating Kenji Sato?" a taller man with glasses asked, his voice cutting through the chaos.

I stared blankly at him for a moment, caught off guard by the directness of his question. "No, we aren't dating," I finally managed to say, trying once again to walk past them. But in my haste, I stumbled as they pushed back.

"So you're just a girl to pass the time with, then?" the same man asked, his tone dripping with insinuation.

His words twisted my face into a mix of confusion and anger. The implication that I was just some disposable fling disgusted me to my core. "What? No!" I snapped, feeling my frustration boiling over.

"It is true that the baseball player hasn't been very committed in the past. What makes you think you're special?" he continued, shoving the microphone closer to my face and blocking my way.

His words and the implications behind them frustrated me beyond words. They planted a seed of doubt inside me, gnawing at my confidence. Who was he to question my worth? The paparazzi's relentless probing felt like an invasion, and it took every ounce of my strength not to lash out.

I pushed past him, my mind racing with a mix of anger and uncertainty. The encounter left me feeling exposed and vulnerable, but also determined to prove them wrong. I wasn't just some girl to pass the time with, and I wouldn't let their words define me. As I finally reached the private box area, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. No matter what they said, I knew my worth, and I wouldn't let anyone take that away from me.

Throughout the entire game, I couldn't shake the uneasiness that had settled in my stomach after the encounter with the reporters. Their probing questions and insinuations had left me feeling exposed and vulnerable, but I did my best to push those feelings aside. I was here to support Kenji, and that's what I intended to do. Every time he came up to bat, I found myself holding my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. When he finally connected with the ball and sent it soaring over the outfield fence for a home run, I jumped to my feet, cheering as loudly as I could. The joy and pride I felt in that moment were enough to momentarily overshadow the earlier discomfort.

As the game progressed, I focused all my attention on Kenji's performance. He was playing exceptionally well, and I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride every time he made a great play. When he made that incredible diving catch in right field, I was on my feet again, applauding and shouting his name. It was clear that he had put in a lot of hard work, and seeing him excel on the field made me forget about everything else, if only for a little while.

Unbeknownst to me, while I was engrossed in the game, an explosion of media coverage was happening behind the scenes. The paparazzi photos and the reporter's insinuations were spreading like wildfire, but I had no idea. My phone was tucked away in my bag, and I was completely oblivious to the storm brewing online. My focus was solely on Kenji and the game, and for those few hours, I was able to push aside the unease and just be there for him.

After the game ended, I felt a mix of relief and lingering anxiety. The uneasiness from earlier was still there, but it was overshadowed by the pride I felt for Kenji's performance. As we walked out of the stadium, I held my head high, determined not to let the media's scrutiny define me or my relationship with Kenji.

Until I looked down at my phone later that night.