remix for sashjun
Title: Story (the Spark Notes Remix)
Rating: G
Group/Pairing: Kat-tun, Kamenashi Kazuya/Tanaka Koki
Notes: Lots of misused baseball jargon
Originals: For the Love of the Game by sashjun
warming up
Kamenashi Kazuya surveys the playing field. He stands alone on his misshapen and dusty pitcher's mound with his worn-out glove and all-star curve balls. He wrinkles his nose; he doesn't like the smell of this town. He misses the subtle fumes of rush hour traffic, the filtered smell from centralized air conditioners, and the sidewalk musk that follow him all the way to fenced in fields where sand and fresh flowers mingle.
Kame covers his nose with his glove, and the scent of worn leather envelopes him. When he closes his eyes and breathes the dust from all the mounds he has stepped upon, he can see every attempt at a stolen base, fly ball and bunt. Distant cheers echo in his mind, and he feels the baseball's stitches under his fingers.
Beyond the glove, there is nothing but stale grass and humidity. He will never get used to the empty air of this town. He plans to leave before that happens.
top of the first inning
Tanaka Koki is a bit of a creeper. Kame sees him every game in the same seat, at the end of the second row closest to third base. Koki lives for the local team. He's a constant presence at games or at the bar celebrating the latest victory. He's a familiar face, but no one of significance.
Kame isn't sure why Koki talks to him out of the blue.
"Come for a beer with me."
"I don't date fans."
Koki's game face is weak. He can't hide his surprise at Kame's sudden comment. Kame prides himself on quick, fast strike-outs.
Koki shrugs his surprise away. "Give me a chance. I'll make you happy."
A crack echos in Kame's ears, and a ball soars out of the park.
visitors at bat on the third inning
Kame plays smart. His teammates call him 'safe,' but that's what Kame wants to be when he slides into home. He waits for clean opportunities; there are no risks worth taking. He doesn't understand why anyone would chance losing a run, a base, or even an entire play just for a chance to be closer to home.
Koki takes Kame's hand in his own and offers to buy him dinner. It's careless. Koki doesn't know if Kame will pull his hand away or refuse his offer. But by the time Kame decides which move to make, he's too late. He's already at a table with a menu in his hands, and Koki orders beer for both of them.
"Something's bothering you, isn't it?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Your game. It's off when something's bothering you."
"What? I'm fine." Who is this guy to tell him how he feels?
"Fine. Maybe not 'bothered.'" Koki purses his lips. "Distracted."
"What makes you say that?"
"The other team managed to steal twice today."
Kame wrinkles his brows.
"I'm only human. Aren't I allowed to make mistakes?"
Koki crosses his arms and rests them on the table. "I thought I could help you unwind. Maybe if you had someone to vent to, you won't take your problems onto the field with you."
"And then we'd win the games?" Kame snorts. "Because I'm happy?"
Koki shrugs. "Want to prove me wrong?"
rounding off the fifth
They take a break on the field, staring up at the endless blue sky. The ground is hard and cold against their backs, but Koki lets Kame use his scarf as a pillow.
"How was your day today?"
"Caught a kid stealing. It was just a box of nails and a pack of gum, but I'm not sure if I should tell his parents." Koki rubs his head. "Nothing you need to be bothered with."
"Why not?"
Kame can tell in one throw if a pitcher is trying to walk him. Well, damn if he's just going to stand there and let Koki take away his hits. This isn't the first time Koki's danced around his problems and shifted the focus onto Kame. It takes four balls before he walks, and Kame is determined to hit a home run before Koki completely flips the conversation.
"I don't want to bore you with my problems. Not on a date." An earnest smile spreads on Koki's face. Ball two.
"Shouldn't I help you with your problems if we're dating?"
"Seeing your smile helps enough."
Kame cringes. "You're too cheesy. And you should tell the kid's parents. He probably doesn't get hugged enough at home."
"Speaking from personal experience, are you?" Ball three. Koki is getting a little too confident for Kame's taste. What's worse, he can see past Kame's game face.
"Don't be like that," Koki says, pulling Kame into a tight hug. "You're off, right? Let's take a holiday somewhere. I can close shop for a few days. What do you say?"
Kame shrugs. "If we leave, I won't want to come back."
"Can't say I had the impression you wanted to be here," Koki laughs. It's dry, like the grass scratching the back of Kame's neck. "But I think I'll miss you more than I thought I would."
Kame turns to face Koki. Koki's eyes are closed.
"I'd never want to leave this place."
One, two, three strikes fly by, and Kame is out before he can even take a swing.
Seventh inning stretch
"How did you end up here?"
Kame is not quite sure where the lines of offense and defense are drawn in baseball. If he's at bat, poised to score, then naturally he's on the offensive. But it's the other team that's hurling baseballs ninety miles an hour at him, with nothing but a bit of padding and a helmet as protection.
Koki's boots scrape against the aluminum bleachers. "Did you just take a train and get off when you got tired of sitting?"
"I'm going to keep going until I make it to the major leagues."
"Going pro would be good. Then I can catch your games on television next season."
The sky stretches over them, wrapping around farther than Kame can see.
"Would that make you happy?" Kame asks.
"I told you, I'm happy when you're happy."
Kame is glad Koki's staring at the sky, because right now he can't bring himself to smile.
Bottom of the ninth
"Will you cheer me on tomorrow?" Kame picks at his giant steak dinner. It looks like third base, right on his plate. "I mean- me. Not the game, or the team, or-"
Koki wipes his lips. "You don't date fans."
"Maybe I'd like my boyfriend to become a fan. I'd want him to cheer me on, tell me honestly if I'm throwing like a girl, and enjoy the game as much as I do."
Koki laughs, and Kame tightens his grip on his knife.
"It's always been you," Koki says with a smile. "Ever since I first saw you on the pitcher's mound, it's you I've been cheering for."
It's a small hit, nothing close to a grand slam, but Kame can't help but feel one base closer to home.
Rating: G
Group/Pairing: Kat-tun, Kamenashi Kazuya/Tanaka Koki
Notes: Lots of misused baseball jargon
Originals: For the Love of the Game by sashjun
warming up
Kamenashi Kazuya surveys the playing field. He stands alone on his misshapen and dusty pitcher's mound with his worn-out glove and all-star curve balls. He wrinkles his nose; he doesn't like the smell of this town. He misses the subtle fumes of rush hour traffic, the filtered smell from centralized air conditioners, and the sidewalk musk that follow him all the way to fenced in fields where sand and fresh flowers mingle.
Kame covers his nose with his glove, and the scent of worn leather envelopes him. When he closes his eyes and breathes the dust from all the mounds he has stepped upon, he can see every attempt at a stolen base, fly ball and bunt. Distant cheers echo in his mind, and he feels the baseball's stitches under his fingers.
Beyond the glove, there is nothing but stale grass and humidity. He will never get used to the empty air of this town. He plans to leave before that happens.
top of the first inning
Tanaka Koki is a bit of a creeper. Kame sees him every game in the same seat, at the end of the second row closest to third base. Koki lives for the local team. He's a constant presence at games or at the bar celebrating the latest victory. He's a familiar face, but no one of significance.
Kame isn't sure why Koki talks to him out of the blue.
"Come for a beer with me."
"I don't date fans."
Koki's game face is weak. He can't hide his surprise at Kame's sudden comment. Kame prides himself on quick, fast strike-outs.
Koki shrugs his surprise away. "Give me a chance. I'll make you happy."
A crack echos in Kame's ears, and a ball soars out of the park.
visitors at bat on the third inning
Kame plays smart. His teammates call him 'safe,' but that's what Kame wants to be when he slides into home. He waits for clean opportunities; there are no risks worth taking. He doesn't understand why anyone would chance losing a run, a base, or even an entire play just for a chance to be closer to home.
Koki takes Kame's hand in his own and offers to buy him dinner. It's careless. Koki doesn't know if Kame will pull his hand away or refuse his offer. But by the time Kame decides which move to make, he's too late. He's already at a table with a menu in his hands, and Koki orders beer for both of them.
"Something's bothering you, isn't it?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Your game. It's off when something's bothering you."
"What? I'm fine." Who is this guy to tell him how he feels?
"Fine. Maybe not 'bothered.'" Koki purses his lips. "Distracted."
"What makes you say that?"
"The other team managed to steal twice today."
Kame wrinkles his brows.
"I'm only human. Aren't I allowed to make mistakes?"
Koki crosses his arms and rests them on the table. "I thought I could help you unwind. Maybe if you had someone to vent to, you won't take your problems onto the field with you."
"And then we'd win the games?" Kame snorts. "Because I'm happy?"
Koki shrugs. "Want to prove me wrong?"
rounding off the fifth
They take a break on the field, staring up at the endless blue sky. The ground is hard and cold against their backs, but Koki lets Kame use his scarf as a pillow.
"How was your day today?"
"Caught a kid stealing. It was just a box of nails and a pack of gum, but I'm not sure if I should tell his parents." Koki rubs his head. "Nothing you need to be bothered with."
"Why not?"
Kame can tell in one throw if a pitcher is trying to walk him. Well, damn if he's just going to stand there and let Koki take away his hits. This isn't the first time Koki's danced around his problems and shifted the focus onto Kame. It takes four balls before he walks, and Kame is determined to hit a home run before Koki completely flips the conversation.
"I don't want to bore you with my problems. Not on a date." An earnest smile spreads on Koki's face. Ball two.
"Shouldn't I help you with your problems if we're dating?"
"Seeing your smile helps enough."
Kame cringes. "You're too cheesy. And you should tell the kid's parents. He probably doesn't get hugged enough at home."
"Speaking from personal experience, are you?" Ball three. Koki is getting a little too confident for Kame's taste. What's worse, he can see past Kame's game face.
"Don't be like that," Koki says, pulling Kame into a tight hug. "You're off, right? Let's take a holiday somewhere. I can close shop for a few days. What do you say?"
Kame shrugs. "If we leave, I won't want to come back."
"Can't say I had the impression you wanted to be here," Koki laughs. It's dry, like the grass scratching the back of Kame's neck. "But I think I'll miss you more than I thought I would."
Kame turns to face Koki. Koki's eyes are closed.
"I'd never want to leave this place."
One, two, three strikes fly by, and Kame is out before he can even take a swing.
Seventh inning stretch
"How did you end up here?"
Kame is not quite sure where the lines of offense and defense are drawn in baseball. If he's at bat, poised to score, then naturally he's on the offensive. But it's the other team that's hurling baseballs ninety miles an hour at him, with nothing but a bit of padding and a helmet as protection.
Koki's boots scrape against the aluminum bleachers. "Did you just take a train and get off when you got tired of sitting?"
"I'm going to keep going until I make it to the major leagues."
"Going pro would be good. Then I can catch your games on television next season."
The sky stretches over them, wrapping around farther than Kame can see.
"Would that make you happy?" Kame asks.
"I told you, I'm happy when you're happy."
Kame is glad Koki's staring at the sky, because right now he can't bring himself to smile.
Bottom of the ninth
"Will you cheer me on tomorrow?" Kame picks at his giant steak dinner. It looks like third base, right on his plate. "I mean- me. Not the game, or the team, or-"
Koki wipes his lips. "You don't date fans."
"Maybe I'd like my boyfriend to become a fan. I'd want him to cheer me on, tell me honestly if I'm throwing like a girl, and enjoy the game as much as I do."
Koki laughs, and Kame tightens his grip on his knife.
"It's always been you," Koki says with a smile. "Ever since I first saw you on the pitcher's mound, it's you I've been cheering for."
It's a small hit, nothing close to a grand slam, but Kame can't help but feel one base closer to home.