Strike Out
"Now up to bat, number four, Toshiro Hitsugaya!" The announcer proclaimed in a booming voice that slowly faded out as cheers erupted from the crowd.
The score was 3-2, Karakura Kamikazes. The Seireitei Samurai were losing and it was the bottom of the ninth, with one on and two outs. To say pressure was on Toshiro to make this happen was the biggest understatement of the day. The game had started at noon and it was now approaching three in the afternoon; everyone was hot, sweaty, and ready to head home. Fans loitered in the aisles, debating whether or not staying a few extra minutes would be worth their time. Sports buffs stayed loyal, though, and waited with bated breath for the final pitches of the game.
The catcher squatted down as Hitsugaya took his stance, flashing signals to the pitcher who nodded in response. Toshiro took a slow practice swing, to check his position, and waited for the pitch to be delivered by Ichimaru, star pitcher of Karakura. The catcher taunted Toshiro quietly, "Hey, you're pretty short, aren't'cha? You're practically eye-level with me!" Hitsugaya merely grunted in response and continued to wait patiently. Gin started his wind up and Toshiro tensed, only to see the pitcher spin around and throw to second — a check on the runner.
Booing exploded from the crowd, along with a few hisses and the occasional, "Get on with it!" Hitsugaya felt his eye twitch. No big deal, he reminded himself calmly, just keep watching, he won't check again for a while. Sadly though, Toshiro was wrong as Gin continued to check the runner again and again and —.
"That's enough, Gin!" he finally exclaimed, throwing his bat down and standing up straight.
"Hey! Get back here or I'm kicking you out of the game, Kid!" the umpire warned in alarm as Toshiro marched out to the pitching mound. Gin cocked his head to the side in condescending amusement. Without missing a beat, Hitsugaya walked up to him, pulled back his arm, and introduced his fist to Ichimaru's face, who promptly crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding nose.
Silence filled the stadium for only a moment before the field and stands erupted into chaos. The infielders rushed Toshiro while the runner on second ran in to help him, and the Samurai on the bench quickly jumped onto the field in order to join the brawl. Black and white Samurai uniforms mixed with the red and white of the Kamikazes as fists flew like eagles diving on their prey. The umpires rushed in to calm things down, but with well over twenty people throwing punches every which way, they were unable to quell the fight much.
Meanwhile, in the stands, women were screaming as men started picking fights with strangers in opposing team colors. Long story short, it was a bad day to have a seat in the midst of enemy team fans. Security was spread thin and sure enough fans started leaking onto the field to join in the ballplayer's fight. In the midst of all of this, quite literally the heart of the fight, Toshiro was repeatedly pounding his fists against Ichimaru's face who was withering in pain under him.
"Next time you're pitching to me —," he paused to catch his breath and Gin glanced up at his furious face, "—why not try actually pitching to me?" He finished with a shout as he continued to tenderize Gin's face.
The umpires had, by this time, called the cops who were now threatening the crowd, telling them to either clear out or they'd be spending the night in a nice little cell. The men in uniform hurriedly made their way to the field where they started pulling players apart, one by one, until they got to the center of the fight. The now hushed and separated teams stood on opposing sides of the infield, watching with horror as Toshiro continued to strike Gin, who now lay unconscious.
By now the crowd of rowdy fans had been dispersed and the ballpark crew was cleaning up the messes in the stands, causing the stadium to fall eerily quiet with only the sound of Toshiro's rhythmic beating to interrupt it.
Thwack. Thwack. Crunch. Thwack.
Several of the ballplayers with weaker constitutions were forced to look away or cover their ears. Several cops stepped forward and pulled Hitsugaya off Ichimaru in silence.
Hitsugaya was still swinging when they forced him into the cruiser.
"Someone's here to visit you," A sleepy-eyed officer mumbled as he opened the door.
"Kisuke?" Toshiro questioned, squinting in the sudden light that had flooded the cramped jail cell.
"My, My," said man drawled. "You've gotten yourself into quite a mess this time, hm?"
"I'm sorry, Coach." Toshiro bowed his head in repentance. Looking up he added, "It won't happen again!"
"Oh I know it won't," Urahara replied with a frown, peeking out from beneath his hat. "As it stands right now, you'll be lucky if they let you in the stadium again—and you can forget playing."
Toshiro leapt up in alarm, causing the guard to perk up as well. "What? They can't do that! The game's all I have; without baseball what am I?" Toshiro continued to argue this point and shout until he neared hysteria, at which point Kisuke chose to intervene.
"All right, calm down!" he shouted impatiently over Hitsugaya's panicked voice. The young ballplayer halted his ranting immediately. "Now look, I'm only telling you what's probably going to happen. No one knows for sure yet, and as much as you'll hate to hear it, Gin Ichimaru will probably be a big factor in the whole mess."
"Gin." Toshiro said his name like a curse, and spat off to the side as if just saying the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "So whether or not I play again is up to a man who's probably going to need extensive surgery after what I did. Really, Kisuke, if he can't play do you think he'll let me play?" He bowed his head in thought, silver hair covering his eyes from view.
"Look, Kid, you made a mistake and everyone knows that. I mean you really are much too loved by your fans. They'll throw a tantrum if you never played again," Kisuke consoled in a thoughtful tone. "Anyways, I'm going to see if there's a way to set up a public meeting with Gin. Maybe if you go out apologize, drop a few kind words, and one quick hug then Ichimaru will forgive you enough to let you play. After all, the judges and jury can be paid off; they aren't the problem here."
"All right," Toshiro agreed quietly, sitting down on the bunk at the back of the cell. He was no hotheaded, temper-flinging jerk; he was simply a good ballplayer that made a small mistake. The day was scorching-hot out, and everyone was ready to go home. Then Gin had to go and try to extend the game for another half-hour. There was no excuse for his action, but nearly half his team would've done the same thing in his position. It seemed bad-tempered folk always made it to the Seireitei Samurai.
Kisuke Urahara, coach of this rambunctious team, took one last look at his go-to man before exiting the room, ready to pull an all-nighter if it meant getting his ballplayer out of the slammer. Toshiro took no notice of his leave; rather he simply continued to think about the alternate outcomes of the day had one of the others been in his place.
He couldn't help but smirk mischievously as he thought about their center fielder, Zaraki Kenpachi, and what he would've done to Gin. If the folks at home thought he hit hard…
Toshiro's smirk quickly faded though. It wasn't right to sit here and think about these kinds of things. Especially not when he was already in trouble as it was.
The young star player leaned back on his lumpy bunk and stared at the prison roof, wondering how long it would take for all of this to blow over, if the lack of practice would affect his playing at all, and somewhat randomly, if there would ever be anything in his life to make it worth living aside from a sport.
Only a week after Kisuke's visit was the meeting between Toshiro and Gin arranged, and now mere minutes from taking place. According to Kisuke's assistant coach, Jushiro Ukitake, Gin had generously agreed to the terms, which were to meet with Toshiro and pardon his aggressive manners at the game. Although Toshiro had managed to express proper excitement towards the news at the time, he remained suspicious of ulterior motives. Ichimaru was not known for his benevolence.
Disregarding these thoughts for the time being, Toshiro stepped into the conference room and stepped up on the stage, in handcuffs at the moment. Already seated to the right of the podium was Gin Ichimaru; Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto, the head coach of Gin's team better known as simply Yamamoto; and Sosuke Aizen, another player on the Karakura Kamikazes and "good friend" of Ichimaru.
To the left sat Toshiro's relief crew, Kisuke Urahara, Jushiro Ukitake, and Isshin Kurosaki, the pitching coach of his team frequently seen at third base, directing runners. They each gave him a small smile or thumbs up, before returning to their grim façade. Although the public would never know it, the entire deal was written up and signed off on earlier today. This was all for publicity's sake.
A man dressed in an expensive looking suit walked up to the podium and introduce the members of the baseball league present, and continued to address the press for several minutes—warming them up, as a few in the business would say.
Hitsugaya zoned out for several minutes; staring unseeingly into the crowd as he waited for the babbling official to finish his spiel. Isshin nudged him, breaking his trance.
"You're up to bat." The bullpen manager smirked at his own little joke. Toshiro smiled appreciatively before standing and making his way to the oak stand. Mounting the stand he took a deep breath, put on his most serious face, and made eye contact with the crowd.
"Friday's game is not something any of us want to think about, especially not me. I cannot begin to express how deeply, truly sorry I am for my actions. Not only was what I did wrong, but I also disgraced the entire league by acting out. I recall playing Little League games, and the first thing out of the coach's mouth was always "sportsmanship". If we lost a game, it was about being a good sport. If we won, it was about being a good sport. I think that's something we, as professionals, should never forget."
Hitsugaya's speech droned on for several minutes before he took questions from the press. A serious-looking woman in the front row nabbed the first question.
"Toshiro Hitsugaya, you are considered by many to be one of the most influential players of our time. Those same Little Leaguers you mentioned in your speech likely witnessed your actions on the field Friday—how do you plan on handling the younger fans?"
Toshiro shifted nervously. Not one of the questions he expected to come his way. "Well, I can assure you I won't let my actions go without warning to the youngsters." There, that should suffice. "Next question?"
The same woman jumped up—another wanna-be trying to grab the spotlight—and the rest of the crowd seemed content with this. "Mr. Hitsugaya, with all due respect sir, that doesn't answer the question. Do you plan on talking directly with the children—interacting with them—at any point in the near future?"
Hitsugaya glanced towards his coach, hoping for some help. Unfortunately Kisuke looked as uncertain as he did at the moment.
"Mr. Hitsugaya?" The crowd seemed to lean forward in their seats all at once—waiting for the answer.
"I—Yes!" Everyone in the room looked puzzled and Toshiro quickly elaborated. "I mean, yes, I'll be contacting a local school to talk with the students there. Particularly a school highly involved in sports."
The presses' eyes lit up as the next great story struck them—Hitsugaya, Apologizes and Recommits!
Great. If he didn't go through with it now the entire press would make him look bad. Resisting the urge to rub his temples Hitsugaya smiles up at the crowd again. Some applauding slips out at his infamous smile. Figuring it was time for the main event, before Toshiro worked this to his advantage any more, Coach Yamamoto stood up.
Gin followed suit and walked towards the podium, smiling in a memorable fashion. Hitsugaya turned his attention from the press and to Gin. Offering his hand, he bowed his head in repentance. Gin clasped his outstretched hand, shook it once, and both turned to face the crowd and smile for the cameras. This time the crowd couldn't resist bursting into a roaring approval.
Then it was over.
The crowd cleared out, the Karakura Kamikaze teammates took off, and his supporters for the evening made tracks, leaving Toshiro with nothing but his own thoughts. Sure that everyone had cleared out, he plopped down on the floor and groaned loudly. Community service. He couldn't believe it. Something shifted in the back of his mind.
Hadn't he seen the woman who asked that question before somewhere?
She looked so familiar…
Then it dawned on him. Mayuri or someone on Gin's team had connections in the press, and she was on the Karakura Kamikazes' payroll. Asking for community service looked like an accident, but it was a set up.
"Damn it!"
