Shiraishi POV

Every so often I would turn my head slightly, just enough to sneak a peak at the girl sitting quietly in the dugout, diligently scribbling in a sketchbook. At the moment, her eyes were trained on Nanamin, who was once again up at bat, precariously swinging her bat around.

I shifted my weight onto my toes, switching my attention back onto the pitcher, who was winding back her arm. Her right arm locked into position before crashing forward and launching the ball towards home plate. In the background, I saw Nanamin prep her bat for the swing, pulling it back and then pushing it forward to connect with the ball, punching the projectile outwards into the air. The softball sailed though the air, its trajectory becoming obvious after a moment. I readied myself, raising my glove and stepping back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I registered Nanami racing towards me, desperate to reach first base before I caught the ball and forced her out. My muscles tensed in apprehension and I extended my arms, anticipating a solid thwack in my glove. It never came.

Nanami hurtled towards me at the speed of a bullet train, sweat flying off her brow. Unfortunately, she did not bother to slow down, as over-running first base was perfectly acceptable, and instead of skidding to a stop, barreled head first into me. We tumbled to the ground, and I watched the ball fly past my outstretched arm and into the glove of Wakatsuki, who had run up behind me to back me up.

The coach blew out a tweet on her whistle, signaling a timeout as she jogged towards the tangle of limbs that consisted of Nanamin and me. I pushed the other girl off, and pulled myself off, wincing as I did so. The impact had left me long-winded and bruised, and a good amount of blood was gushing from my right calf.

“First Nishino and now Shiraishi,” the coach complained. “What has gotten into you today, Hashimoto? You’re injuring everyone!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Nanamin muttered, lowering her head sheepishly. Coach merely sighed and shook her head, massaging her temples as she turned towards me.

“Shiraishi, take a rest for the rest of the day,” she commanded. “You can sit with Nishino for the remainder of practice, but go wash your leg first.” 

“Thanks, Coach.” I shrugged and limped off the field, silently blessing Nanamin for crashing into me. The silver lining had become apparent.

I reached the dugout and found a pair of anxious eyes gazing at me. “Are you alright?” Nishino inquired worriedly. 

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” I mumbled, averting my eyes. Setting down my glove, I rummaged around my bag for my water bottle, nonchalantly brushing off the pain in an attempt to seem cool. 

Nishino had stood up, her drawing materials neatly stacked in a pile on the bench. In her hand, she clutched the first aid kit, patiently waiting for me.

“I’ll help you clean off the wound,” she motioned.

“It’s fine, I can do it by myself,” I lied. “I don’t want to disturb you.” Truthfully, the only thing I wanted was for her to take me to the nurse’s, but there was no way I would say that to her face.

“Don’t be silly,” she chided. “Let me help you.” I gave in easily and allowed her to help me up. She placed an arm around my shoulders, supporting my weight to keep it off my leg. I gulped at the contact. She smelled like flowers and candy and sugar and spice and anything and everything pleasant. I, on the other hand, reeked of sweat and the sickeningly sweet fragrance of blood. Suddenly aware of my unwanted body odor, I cursed myself for not at least wiping the sweat off in the dugout.

“Sorry,” I apologized. “I probably smell really bad, and I’m getting your uniform all dirty too.”

“It’s okay,” she replied shyly. “We have to take care of your leg.”

We spent the rest of the trek to the nurse’s office in silence, with me racking my brain for conversation topics and her refusing to even look at me. I was in despair as she slid open the door. 

“Huh, doesn’t look like the nurse is here.”

“That’s fine. I know how to administer first aid, so just sit still.”

I obediently settled on the edge of one infirmary beds, watching Nishino prepare gauze and rubbing alcohol. She maneuvered herself around the counter, reaching over to a cabinet for a bag of cotton balls. Setting the bag down, she grabbed a pack of wipes and handed it to me.

“Can you wipe off the blood and dirt while I finish this?” 

“Sure.” I peeled off the sticker on the bag and pulled out a wipe. Bracing myself, I gingerly wiped off the surrounding gunk on my leg, careful not to reopen the scratches. A couple wipes later, I finished the job and tossed the used sheets in the trash. 

Nishino came over and propped my leg up on a foot stool, carefully dabbed a couple drops of rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball and apply it to the wound. I hissed at the burning sensation in my leg, my jaw clenched in a grimace until the stinging went away.

She dropped the cotton in the trash can and unwound a roll of gauze, wrapping it around my calf.

“Can you hold this end in place?” I took the white fabric in my hand and rested it against my leg, relaxing as I watched her work.

“So what exactly is your project?” I asked, gazing hopefully at her.

“For the manga club? I’m creating a manga about a softball club, so I thought I’d check you guys out.”

“Did you just start today? I haven’t seen you at the field before.”

She nodded. “We just got the project today, so you’ll probably see me around for a while. If that’s okay with the team, of course,” she added hastily.

“No problem,” I beamed. I was delighted with the prospect. “Stay as long as you need to.

“Thank you, Shiraishi-san.” My heart skipped a beat at her words. It was the first time she had ever said my name, and I certainly wouldn’t mind if she said it a couple more times.

My eyes drifted to her hands, which were swiftly weaving a bandage around my leg. Slender fingers and smooth hands, I noted. She probably has never played sports or anything too rigorous. I silently observed her fingers, nimbly unwinding the roll without a break. For a moment they brushed against me, and I was surprised to find that they were rough, unlike like their soft appearance. Taking a closer look, I found that her index and middle fingers had callouses on them, built up from years and years of drawing.

“Shiraishi-san.” Her voice startled me out of my musings; it didn’t seem like her to initiate conversations.

“Y-yes?” I squeaked meekly. She giggled at my response. God, she was such an angel.

“Haha, that was kind of cute.”

“Cute?” My face was betraying my brain. I could feel all my blood rush to my face, a very evident blush blossomed on my cheeks.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.” She deftly tied a knot with the gauze and cut the strip off. “There, all good now.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Mhm. Anyways, I meant to say that you always seem so cool and aloft; it surprised me a little to see you like this.”

“What do you mean ‘like this?’” I cocked my head to the side, confused.

“Hm, I guess you seem more vulnerable and less perfect.” It took all my willpower to maintain my cool. I wanted to coddle her.

“Do I really seem that way?”

“A little. You’re kind of hard to approach.”

“That’s surprising. I didn’t think I was like that.”

“Well, I’m just shy, so don’t worry about it too much. Normally, I’d never have a chance to talk to you like this, so this makes just a bit happy.”

“Same here.” We finished tidying up the room and headed back out towards the field. By the time we got there, practice was already ending and the team was already walking to the locker room. I gathered up my belongings, pausing to wait for Nishino, who was organizing her notes.

“Um, Nishino-san,” I called.

“Is there something wrong?”

“I forgot to ask this earlier, but would you like to be friends?”

“If you’re alright with that,” she replied, genuinely surprised.

I grinned to myself. That was one step closer to where I wanted to be.

Nishino POV

I studied Shiraishi-san with renewed interest. Ever since her dynamic entrance on the first day of school I had viewed her a mysterious figure too distant for me to reach, but the events of the day had changed that. In the nurse’s office, she was friendly and approachable, not at all like what I had imagined of her. At the end of practice, when she asked to be my friend, I found myself taking an interest in the beautiful girl.

Intently observing her figure, I noted the lean, muscular arms the melded into a slender back, complete with perfect curves. Shiraishi-san’s body was that of a model; her pale skin was untarnished and held no traces of blemishes. 

She turned around to grab a towel and for a brief moment, made eye contact with me. I immediately whipped my head to the side, praying that she had not noticed my staring. Feeling the heat in my cheeks, I focused on the rest of the team, taking note of the different interactions they held.

I had followed Shiraishi-san into the locker room in order to gather more data for my manga, but all I seemed to be doing was ogling her body. It was much more toned than I had expected, and I found myself idealizing the body. 

Switching my attention to Wakatsuki-senpai, who was engaged in a heated debate with the short haired batter from before, I made a quick sketch of the two. I strained my ears to catch a bit of their conversation, but failed to make anything out of it. I shrugged. It didn’t really matter, I would just fill in the scene with another topic.

Slowly, players began to trickle out of the locker room in pair or trios, leaving only Wakatsuki-senpai, her short-haired friend, and Shiraishi-san.

Noticing that the three of them were all preparing to leave, I quickly gathered my belongings to go home as well.

“Nishino-san, where do you live?” Wakatsuki-senpai’s voice stopped me from exiting, and I turned around to face her.

“I live near Omotesando. Why?” I tilted my head quizzically. 

She laughed. “I was going to offer to walk you home, but it seems like we live in opposite directions. I live in Akasaka. Maiyan lives in that area though, so she can walk you back.”

“It’s fine,” I protested. “I can get home by myself.”

“Don’t sweat it, Nishino-san,” Shiraishi-san smiled kindly at me. “I could use a little company on the way home.”

“That settles it then. You two stay safe; Nanamin and I are heading home.” She paused by the door and gestured at the short haired girl from before. “Oh, by the way, this is Hashimoto Nanami.”

The tall girl nodded, extending her hand to me. “Hashimoto Nanami. Nice to meet you.”

I received the hand cordially. “Nishino Nanase. It’s my pleasure.”

“Not at all,” she responded. “Sorry I almost hit you with the ball.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled apologetically and exited the room with Wakatsuki-senpai, leaving Shiraishi-san and I in an awkward silence. 

She shuffled her feet. “Shall we get going?”

Shiraishi POV

We strolled down the streets of Omotesando together, taking in the night lights. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this would happen. I fist-pumped to myself, mentally noting to thank Wakatsuki later.

“The lights are so pretty,” my companion marveled. She was enchanted by the fully of lights and colors, and I was enchanted by her.

“Aren’t they?” I agreed. I kept my real thoughts to myself, voicing in my head silently. I think you’re the pretty one though.