❛ 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 ❜ ✓

6

          I LOOKED AT ——— Sato with a disapproving look as he missed yet again, another ball, making it his third strike and an out for the Giants.

The collective sigh of disappointment rippled through the team as some members shook their heads. The catcher's words only served to exacerbate Sato's frustration, prompting him to yell back in response. As tensions flared, the Swallows catcher rose to his feet and exchanged heated words before the situation escalated into a physical altercation.

I approached Sato, who was slumped on the bench after being ejected from the game, glaring at the floor with his hands curled into fists and a bruise forming on his face from the punches he'd received. "What was that about?" I asked, my voice tinged with frustration.

Just yesterday, he had seemed so confident and determined, but today he was on edge, snapping at everything. I suspected that last night's events—the strange noises I'd heard in the background of our call—might have had something to do with his current state.

Sato didn't look up, nor did he reply immediately. His silence only heightened my concern.

I sighed, looking at his red knuckles, "Get up, Sato. Let's get you fixed up."

He slowly rose from the bench, wincing as he moved. I guided him toward the locker room where we could tend to his injuries. As we walked, I glanced at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Wanna tell me what's wrong?" I questioned him gently.

He grumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?"

He inhaled sharply, making me raise a brow. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them, "I didn't sleep well,"

I frowned, concerned. "Did something happen last night? I heard some noise during our call."

He shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. "It's... nothing you need to worry about. Just some stuff I need to deal with."

I let him be after that.

We entered the locker room, and I gestured for him to sit on a bench. He sank onto it with a tired sigh. I went over to the mini-fridge we keep in here and grabbed an ice pack before I went to the cabinet and retrieved the medkit, opening it to assess the supplies.

As I prepared the necessary items to clean and dress his wounds, I glanced back at him. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion and frustration, the weight of his troubles clearly weighing on him.

"Sit tight," I said softly as I approached him.

He nodded, not meeting my eyes as I stood in front of him, and gently pushed his hair back to get a better view of the red marks on his face. I carefully moved his face around with my fingers, wincing a bit at the sight of the bruises. "Damn, he did a number on you," I commented, hoping to get him to say something--anything--but he remained silent.

I sighed inwardly, trying to remain calm. I unscrewed a tube of cooling ointment and applied it to a cotton pad. I gently spread the ointment onto his bruised face one mark at a time, the room was filled with the soft rustling of the medkit and the occasional muffled sounds from the game outside.

Sato's face winced when I touched a particularly tender spot on his forehead. I quirked a brow, brushing his hair away to get a clearer look. I noticed a small cut above his eyebrow that hadn't been immediately apparent before.

I gently applied pressure around the area. "Does it hurt?"

Sato clenched his jaw, his eyes closing briefly. "Yeah, a bit," he admitted, his voice strained.

I reached for a sterile pad and some antiseptic to clean the cut. "I'm going to clean this up, okay?" I said softly, trying to be as gentle as possible. He nodded, his eyes still closed. As I cleaned the cut, he let out a shaky breath. I then put a bandage over the cleaned cut, making sure it was secure but not too tight.

I decided to break the silence, trying to offer a bit of distraction as I focused on ensuring the bandage was comfortable on his forehead, "You know, Sato, sometimes it helps to talk things through. If you ever need someone to listen or if there's something specific you're struggling with, I'm here."

He remained quiet for a moment, and I could see him processing my offer. "I'll keep that in mind," he finally said, his voice low as he spoke.

I finished applying the bandage and gave his forehead one last gentle pat before combing his hair with my fingers and making sure it looked like how his hair always does.  "There we go. That should help with the pain and keep things clean." I handed him an ice pack, "And for your face. Make sure to keep this on it to reduce the swelling and numb the pain a bit. It'll help you feel better."

Sato gave me a small smile as he reached for the ice pack. His fingers brushed against mine as he took it, sending a slight electrifying tingle through me. His dark purple eyes met mine as he carefully placed the ice pack onto the bruise, the coolness visibly easing his discomfort.

"Thanks, manager,"

"Anytime," I replied, giving him a reassuring nod. "Just focus on taking care of yourself. You're Ken Sato, remember?" I teased, pushing his shoulder gently with my hand.

He blinked owlishly at me, "Who are you? And where's my manager?"

I looked at him taken aback, "What do you mean?" I asked, confusion lacing my tone.

"Dunno, I mean, Miss [name] Hamada is a bit meaner, y'know?"

I smacked his head.

"OW!"