A/N: This fic is back! Sorry for the wait, and thanks in advance for reviews. ;)
"I'll bat first," France announced, grabbing a bat. He frowned at his helmet, warranting a suppressed snicker from England, but put it on.
"Ball two," Switzerland called as Germany threw the ball back a second time. Russia reared back again, delivering another pitch, which bounced off the very tip of France's bat.
"Ball three."
"What are you doing?" America shouted as Russia gripped the baseball again. "One more, and you're giving him a walk!"
"Oh, do you not want me to do that?" Russia asked innocently.
"Of course not!" America screamed back.
"Hm. Maybe I'll go ahead, then."
"You throw one more ball, and I swear I'll nuke you!" America roared.
"America, that's hardly something to joke about!" England called from his dugout disgustedly.
"Who said I was joking?"
"Throw one more ball, and you'll nuke me, da?" Russia started. "But I'm pitcher. It's my job to throw the ball, isn't it?"
"That is so not what I meant!"
"Oh, just give it a rest," England grumbled. "How about this stays a somewhat friendly game of baseball and not a promise of mutually-assured destruction?"
"Fine," America agreed unenthusiastically. He turned back to Russia. "If you give him a walk, I'll just kick your butt without nukes."
"We'll see," Russia sang, firing off his next pitch.
France finally got to hit the baseball this time; he took off for first base as the ball flew high up toward third.
Romano ran forward, but the ball's trajectory wouldn't lead it close enough to him. Russia, though, upon running to the left, had the fly in his range. He reached out his glove...
And bounced the ball back into the air.
"What the heck are you doing?" shouted America as France neared his base.
"Oh, do you want me to catch it?" Russia replied, knocking the baseball back up.
"Of course I—" America stopped himself, realizing Russia would probably do the opposite of what he told him to. "...Don't?" he finished quizzically.
"Okay." Russia let the ball fall to the ground.
"Wha-! What the crap?" America stared at the baseball while France trotted past his base unstressfully.
"What? That's what you told me to do, da?"
"I—I didn't—The—With the—Oh, screw you!" America spat, stomping on the ground.
Poland stepped back as France walked past his base. "Okay, is anyone, like, gonna go get the ball?"
"I'll get it," Germany grumbled, getting up from his catcher's position and heading for the baseball.
Just before he knelt to grip it, though, Romano shoved him out of the way and grabbed it himself.
"Ha! I got it first!" the Italian bragged.
"That's fine, but... You need to get back to your base!" Germany shouted, motioning at France, who had almost gotten to third.
"Ah!" Romano yelped, taking off for his base. He was far too late, though; France easily landed on third before him.
"Safe," Switzerland called. "France hits a triple!"
"I'm going to kill you!" America shrieked at Russia, who just laughed.
"What do you mean? I didn't give him a walk, did I?"
"Yes! He walked all the way to third base!"
"Who bats next, then?" Japan, having to raise his voice to be heard over America's and Russia's bickering, asked his team.
"I will, aru!" China announced, putting on a batting helmet.
"Ball two."
America spluttered off a few more incoherent death threats as Russia prepared to pitch again.
"This really is bugging you, isn't it?" Russia giggled.
"Oh, you couldn't tell before?" America shouted back.
"Of course I could. You're just so much fun to mess with!" Russia sang.
"I swear I am going to nuke—"
"Enough of this!" Japan interrupted angrily—that is, the closest he would get to angrily—stomping out of his dugout. "Both of you, stop it! We all came here deciding to put aside our differences for one afternoon to enjoy a game of baseball, did we not?"
"I'm enjoying it like this," Russia piped in his defense.
"The rest of us sure aren't, aru," China scoffed, leaning on his baseball bat.
"That's right," Japan responded. "So—if you have enough restraint to do it—quit this disgusting bickering and play the match." He narrowed his eyes at Russia. "And I mean play it."
America laughed ."You heard hi—"
"Don't start."
"Strike two!"
Germany threw the ball back to Russia as China prepared to swing again.
"Hah!" China grunted, smacking the ball to far center field. He took off for the base in front of America, who was watching the ball's trajectory.
"Greece, have you got that?" America called. "...Greece?" He watched the ball land in the outfield as China neared his base.
"Are you kidding me? He, like, fell asleep again?" Poland sighed, turning around to find his teammate.
"Safe," Switzerland called as France trotted past home plate.
"Someone go get that!" America shouted as China tapped a foot on his base and made for second.
"I've got i—"
"On my way!" Finland called back, unaware that someone else was already closer to the baseball than he. The blonde continued forward to swoop up the ball...
And rammed right into Canada.
"Ah! Sorry!" Finland exclaimed. "I didn't see you!"
Quite ready to retort with something nasty, Canada got back up, put his glasses back on, and replied, "N-No, that's okay..."
"Someone get the ball!" America interrupted loudly.
"Got it!" Finland called back, scooping up the baseball and looking about the bases.
"Over here, over here!" Poland shouted, waving his glove in the air.
Finland nodded, stepping back and pitching the baseball toward the second baseman.
Poland reached up, barely managing to catch it just as China slid into his base.
"Safe!" Switzerland called. "China hits a double. And, one run this inning for Team Japan!"
Liechtenstein adjusted the scoreboard accordingly as China stood up and swept some dirt off his pants.
"All right, who hasn't batted this round, then?" Japan started, tapping a baseball bat on the ground lightly.
"I haven't!" Italy announced, waving his hand in the air.
"If you go, you'd better not just run away from the ball again," England grumbled.
Italy slowly put his hand back down.
"Um, I haven't gone yet," Spain volunteered.
"All right, go ahead," Japan replied with a nod.
"Strike two," Switzerland called.
Spain, a bit flustered, readjusted his stance, and Russia pitched again.
The Iberian nation sent the ball flying this time.
"I've got it!" Canada called, though he was quite unsure anyone would notice. He had to run forward substantially, but the baseball just glided off his leather-coated fingertips. The brunette picked it up hurriedly and pitched it toward his brother.
America, actually having heard Canada somehow, turned around, ready to catch. Spain set foot on his base, but America had already caught the baseball.
"Out!" Switzerland called. "Two outs for Team Japan!"
"Haha!" America laughed. "Was that heroic or what?"
"Not really," Poland replied with a frown, motioning at China, who was already sprinting for third.
"Ah!" America yelped. "Romano!" he shouted, hurling the ball to the third baseman.
"Got it!" Romano replied, reaching up high to catch the baseball.
But he still missed it.
The baseball continued to zip past, hitting the far wall. Romano growled, running after it, as China decided to go for home base.
The Italian reached the ball and turned around to see China dangerously close to scoring a run. He hurled the baseball to home plate.
Germany scuttled over a bit to catch it, but the ball somehow nailed him in the throat. It dropped to the ground as he started coughing.
Romano had to laugh. "I didn't even do that on pur—I mean, that's what you get, potato freak!"
Germany probably would have sighed if he weren't in a mad rush to reclaim the ball before China reached his base. The blonde snatched up the baseball, and, whipping around, tagged China milliseconds before the Asian could set foot on home plate.
"Out!" Switzerland declared. "Three outs for Team Japan—end of inning!"
China and Spain made their way to meet their team in the dugout, while America's team, with the repeated exception of Greece, gathered in its dugout. Moments later, Team Japan had taken their places in the outfield—as well as gotten Greece back out of center field—and America had stepped up to bat.
Japan put his hand in his glove, reared back, and fired off a pitch. America swung hard—though not nearly as hard as last time—and the baseball spiraled toward center field.
France hurried back to catch the ball—not far, since he was already near the fence—but it ricocheted off the back fence before he could reach it. Swiping it off the grass, he whipped around, facing first base, and hurled the ball.
The baseball, however, veered sharply from its intended path, reaching the pitcher's mound instead. Japan caught it, but America had already reached first base.
"Safe. America hits a single."
America disappointedly fussed with his batting helmet as Russia padded over to home plate.
"Strike two!"
China tossed the ball back to Japan, while America struggled to restrain himself from threatening Russia again.
The baseball was pitched fast toward home plate, where Russia finally managed to bat it toward third.
Italy, meanwhile, had ended up distracting himself by watching a caterpillar wriggle across the infield grass.
"Italy!" Japan, after determining the left fielder was too far away to get to the baseball, called.
"Huh?" Italy looked up curiously, and then spotted the ball coming towards him. "Ah!" he panicked. "Ger—"
"Just catch it!" shouted Japan. "It won't hurt you!"
"A-Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure!"
"Nnn…" Italy looked up at the ball unconvinced, but held his glove out, anyway. The ball hit the leather with a thump, and Italy stared stunned at the baseball in his hand.
"Out!" called Switzerland. "America did not make it to second in time, and his team has one out this inning."
"Yay!" chimed Italy, suddenly realizing he had done this. "I got an out!"
"Good job," Japan credited with a nod. He held up his glove. "Throw it back?"
"So, who's next?" Finland started.
Romano, possibly beginning to come to terms with how much he sucked at this game, didn't volunteer for once.
"Like, I'll go." Poland put on a helmet, grasped a bat, and trotted over to home plate.
"Strike one."
Poland got back into batting position and managed to smack Japan's next pitch to left field.
England hurried forward to catch the ball, but it fell to the ground just a meter away. He swooped down, snatched it up, and, after checking the bases to see America closer to second than Poland to first, hurled the ball toward Estonia.
Estonia turned toward the oncoming ball slowly, debating whether it was good to get America out or bad to give Russia's team another out. He caught the ball, deciding the former was best.
America came to a screeching halt a meter away from the base, but before he could turn to sprint back to first, Estonia had tagged him.
As Switzerland declared the American was out, Estonia looked back nervously toward Russia in the dugout.
Russia gave a short nod. Estonia sighed in relief.
"Who's next?" America grumbled, obviously displeased about getting out.
"…Me, I guess," Germany finally responded, leaning to pick up a bat and helmet.
"Strike one!"
The baseball was thrown back to Japan, and Germany prepared for the next pitch. Japan sent a curveball flying toward him, but he was ready; a solid crack of the bat sent the ball soaring toward the fence.
France sprinted back, getting the ball off the grass right after it landed. He turned to check the bases—Poland was halfway to second, and Germany was almost at first—before attempting to toss the baseball to Lithuania. In reality, the throw veered toward the pitcher, but it was at such an awkward angle Japan couldn't solidly catch it. The Asian nation squatted down and picked the ball up, and the two baserunners stopped where they had reached.
"Both players made it to the next base on time!" Switzerland announced. "Germany hits a single."
"I can do better than that!" Romano proclaimed, grabbing a helmet.
The others in the dugout didn't seem as convinced.
Romano steadied his batting stance, and Japan fired off the first pitch. Somehow, it was actually hit the first time; it sailed toward second base.
Estonia stared upward at the ball. He didn't get in trouble last time, but that was America… Did Russia have any vendetta against Romano? He didn't think so…
With a sigh, the Baltic stepped to the side and let the baseball fall to the ground a few feet to his left.
Spain, dodging Poland as he ran for third, sped over and plucked up the ball, but it was too late. All three on America's team had reached their bases. With a sigh, Spain tossed the ball back to Japan.
"All right, Canada," America announced, tossing his brother a bat, "your turn. We have two outs, and the bases are loaded, so hit a grand slam!" He paused. "Uh, no pressure or anything."
"Right…"
"Strike two!"
Canada adjusted his stance nervously, concerned that he wouldn't even hit the ball in the first place, let alone score a grand slam.
But the next pitch was hit; it veered too far to left field to go over the fence, though.
England hurried to the ball, but he had practically been on the exact opposite side of his position. Canada had already reached second base before he finally threw it to the pitcher.
"Canada hits a double," Switzerland called. "And that's two more runs for Team America this inning."
Finland adjusted his helmet a bit before Japan hurled the next pitch. The blonde hit the ball, which flew high in the air toward first base.
Lithuania, not taking any chances, backed away, but the center fielder, knowing this, ran to get the baseball. France didn't catch it, but by some miracle managed to throw it to Japan intentionally, ending the run.
"Finland hits a single," the umpire concluded. "Germany did not reach home base in time, and Canada did not reach third in time; both go back to their bases."
America stared hopelessly at the two remaining countries. Neither Greece nor Turkey was a promising batter for a grand slam, but it didn't seem like something he could change…
Or could he?
"Be right back!" he announced, running out of the dugout to the pitcher's mound.
"America?" Japan started. "What's going on?"
"Uh, nothing, nothing," America replied. "I just need you to pretend to be talking to me!"
"Um… All right…?"
"Okay, great, thanks!" America darted back to the dugout, leaving a very confused Japan behind.
"All right, you two!" the head of the team started excitedly. Turkey and Greece looked on with a hint of curiosity. "I just talked to Japan," America continued, leaning in, "and he said whichever of you two scores the most runs gets to be his best friend!"
The two exchanged a wide-eyed glance.
"Really?" Turkey finally responded.
"Yeah, really. You can ask him after the game. So!" America looked at the two of them. "Who bats first?"
"Me," Greece volunteered immediately, picking up a bat.
As he loped to home plate, America looked on, only able to pray that his plan would work.
