I'll Call It A Day

(A Nagatoro Fanfic 774 Probably Never Intended)

AN: I've been gone for... an ENTIRE age, as life has been incredibly unkind to me for the past several months. In one of my brief periods to unwind, however, I had a chance to watch the anime of "Ijiranaide, Nagatoro-San," a manga I liked but am now retroactively forced to admit was... a LOT more concerning than I remember it being. Regardless, it inspired this fun little one-shot to get me back in the game, based on a small, brief, misinterpreted moment that I doubt anyone would have even begun to note. A crack fic if you will.

...

The sound of a metal bat cracking against a baseball split the air, and Hosokawa couldn't hold back a smirk as he watched the ball go flying over the yard, over the school building, and out of sight. Humility might be a virtue, but it didn't change the fact that felt good to be this good. As he continued to watch, however, he found his eyes slowly drifting towards the upper rooms of the building.

He often found himself doing this, especially at times like this. Whenever he was playing particularly well, it was sure that he'd see that guy watching.

When it first happened, Hosokawa didn't think much of it-he barely even noticed. A tall, sort of lanky guy with fluffy brown hair and a glint in his eye suggesting a pair of glasses watching him didn't seem worth caring about.

And yet it kept happening. Not so much on days he was doing pretty badly, sure, but on days he was doing well, the baseball player was sure to see the strange figure watching him from a room on the third floor.

After a while, Hosokawa began to wonder... who was this guy? Why'd that mop-top keep watching him play?

He tried to ignore it, at first. The baseball player was talented, after all-you don't become the star player without picking up a few fans, and this guy didn't seem much different.

But then Hosokawa got to thinking. The weirdo'd been watching him play since well before the whole "star player" thing at first, and back then he wasn't all that good-passably mediocre , maybe, and that was if you were a little charitable.

Of course, maybe the guy was just a fan of baseball. When the though first popped into his head, Hosokawa had felt... bad. It was like a lead weight dropped into his gut, and he couldn't stop thinking about the lanky weirdo with the glasses. His team started to notice when his movements slowed down, and more than one person told the 'star baseball player' to get his head out of the clouds and back into the game.

And did he try. It took a few days, but eventually, he could put his mysterious surveyor out of mind and focus. Maybe he didn't get back to full capacity, but eventually Hosokawa got himself back up to maybe 80%. Good enough, but his team still muttered.

By the time the next game came up, Hosokawa was almost ready to quit. He was sure that the weirdo'd be there-after all, a baseball fan wouldn't miss a game.

It was exciting and sad at the same time. Though he'd tried to ignore it, the baseball player couldn't help but notice that the mop-top hadn't watched him play for the past few days. While he wouldn't use the word lonely to describe how he was feeling, it was still an honest word for it. To know that the lanky guy would be there, but only for the game and not for him, rested heavily on Hosokawa's mind.

But then game day came... and the weirdo was nowhere in sight.

Maybe he just didn't notice, maybe he deliberately tried not to notice, but when Hosokawa thought about it, he'd never seen the weirdo at a game before. Ordinarily, if such a thing caught his attention, he didn't think he'd play at that 'star player' status, but now... it was a relief. For the first time in weeks, he was playing at 100%, maybe even better than his best. That glasses guy wasn't watching because he liked baseball, the glasses guy was watching because he liked...!

The next few weeks were a blast. Home run after home run, catch after catch, pitching strikeout after strikeout, Hosokawa did it all. His team took notice, and all memory of the earlier slump was forgotten. The star player was back!

And who else was back but that weird guy, up in the window again, watching him play. And it felt great.

Sometimes the baseball player wondered... did his mysterious friend know that Hosokawa could feel him watching? That every time the guy looked down from up on the third floor, Hosokawa was looking right back up at him? Probably not, he decided; after all, the mop-top seemed pretty shy, especially seeing as he missed the games. Fan of baseball or fan of Hosokawa, someone bolder wouldn't miss seeing either at the real deal. If someone that sheepish knew that when he watched, the star player watched right back, there was no way the lanky guy could keep at it. In a way, it was kind of nice, like a secret between two people that only one of them knew.

As the season wore on, Hosokawa started to think of his secret admirer as a lucky charm of sorts-when he felt those bespectacled eyes on him, the baseball player couldn't help but do his very best. Maybe it was less luck, then, and more motivation, but the specifics didn't matter; it was fun regardless.

Eventually, he started to ask around. Did anyone know what that room was for? If anyone had heard anything about the weirdo with the glasses and the wavy brown hair?

At first, no one seemed to know what he was talking about, but eventually a few details started to float around.

Did he mean the Art Club room? The one with only one real member still around?

Lanky guy... did he mean Nao-kun? Yeah, there was probably someone like that.

Nao-kun. It was nice to put a name to the face. To clear up the mystery. Nao.

And so, today, as he practiced, as he noticed the reserved Nao watching, Hosokawa decided that after practice he'd go say hi for the first time. Why, hello there, Nao-kun! he'd say. I can't help but notice how you're always watching the baseball team practice. I wonder, why is that? It couldn't have anything to do with the fact that I'm there, right? That'd be a bit strange, wouldn't it-to sit there watching me for more than a year now? Kind of stalking, isn't that?

Hearing the sound of baseball meeting glove, another strikeout thrown by the star baseball player, Hosokawa couldn't help but raise his arms and flex. Sure, it was a bit of showboating, but who minded a bit of pride when you earned it? Judging by their cheers and adulation, their cries of "Spring Koshien for sure this year!", they didn't mind one bit.

And as his eyes lifted to search out his good secret friend Nao-kun, he was sure that the mop-top wouldn't mind one bit eith-

Today, Nao wasn't alone. Today, a shorter figure stood next to him, one with long dark hair.

A girl.

Oh.

Hosokawa felt his face drop as he watched the pair turn and walk away from the window. Away from him.

Oh.

And suddenly, he wondered if maybe Nao wasn't really watching him after all.

***The End***