Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Bleach Baseball ❯ Inning Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Inning Seven

“The Arrancar lead off the seventh with their number two batter, Nnoitra. He's two for three with a triple under his belt,” Urahara announced.

“What's under his belt doesn't look like a triple to me,” Yoruichi remarked. “Are you sure it's even a single?”

“What did she say?!” Nnoitra shouted, infuriated.

“I said your dick's the size of a…” Yoruichi started to shout back, but Urahara kicked the leg of her chair and she tumbled over backward. “Hey!”

“Let's see if Nnoitra can start something for the Arrancar,” Urahara continued blandly.

Yoruichi scowled at him as she righted her chair and resumed her seat. “I may start something if you try that again,” she grumbled.

Still frowning angrily, Nnoitra stepped up to the plate.

Ichigo looked him up and down pointedly. “She must be on to something, judging by your reaction. You are pretty thin for your height. Maybe you're thin everywhere?”

“Just shut up and pitch!” Nnoitra snarled.

“Ok!” Ichigo grinned fiercely as he took the sign from Ganju. The first pitch blew past Nnoitra untouched. “Feel free to swing at those.”

“I'll swing when I'm damn good and ready!”

“Sure, sure,” Ichigo chuckled. “Just checking.”

The second pitch smoked by, and Nnoitra swung and missed. “Dammit!”

“Yeah, there must definitely be some kind of compensation going on there,” Ichigo said.

“Look who's talking with your giant zanpakuto!” Grimmjow shouted from the dugout. “What are you compensating for?”

Ichigo's grin widened. “Oh, I'm just trying to make what I've got hanging look normal size when it's next to my zanpakuto. But I guess that means you need a tiny sword to make your little twig look bigger.”

“I do not have a little twig!” Grimmjow screamed.

Gin put a hand on Grimmjow's shoulder. “Quit letting him get to ya. He's just trying to get ya rattled.”

“But he keeps harping on it!”

“That's because it's the size of a harp string,” Ichigo said as he wound up for the next pitch.

“That does it!” Grimmjow cried. “I'm gonna beat the shit out of him!”

Gin grabbed him around the waist to keep him from dashing out of the dugout. “Save it for after the game, Grimmy. Ya can beat up all the Shinigami ya want, then.”

“You can count on that!” Grimmjow shook his fist at Ichigo. “You've got a butt-kicking coming, carrot-top!”

“Lookin' forward to it,” Ichigo said. “But let me strike this guy out first.”

“What?!” Nnoitra exclaimed. The pitch whistled in and he swung hard, but the ball popped foul behind the plate. Ganju quickly pulled his mask up, but the ball fell behind the backstop.

“Hmm…” Ichigo rubbed his chin and leaned in for the next sign. Ganju signaled and Ichigo nodded, his fierce grin returning. “Nice!” He took a long, slow wind-up and then exploded into the pitch. The fastball blurred in and Nnoitra swung hard, trying to crush the ball. He missed cleanly and the ball thumped loudly into Ganju's mitt. “Yes!”

“Crap!” Nnoitra cried. He slammed his bat into the ground and stamped back to the dugout. “You distracted me with your whining!” he snapped at Grimmjow.

“A skilled batter,” Ulquiorra interrupted calmly, “can focus on the pitcher through any number of distractions.” He blinked once and Nnoitra swallowed.

“Yes, of course,” Nnoitra muttered. He slunk to a spot on the bench and sat down.

Ulquiorra glanced at Zommari. “I assume you will do better.”

“Of course,” Zommari said calmly. He strode confidently up to the plate and settled into his stance, his bat at the ready.

“Zommari has made contact at all three at-bats,” Urahara announced, “but he only has one hit to show for it. Let's see how he does this time.”

Ichigo took his time, but Zommari jumped on the first pitch, cracking it solidly into left field over Rukia's head. Chad caught the ball after the first bounce and threw it in to Ikkaku at second. Zommari stopped at first. Ichigo scowled as Ikkaku threw him the ball.

“That's one on and one out for the Arrancar,” Urahara said. “They've got an opportunity here to break the tie.”

Yammi stumped out of the dugout swinging his bat in wide arcs. “Get ready to run, Zommari!” he said. “I'm going to get a hit.”

“Overconfident loud-mouth,” Ichigo muttered. He pitched a breaking ball that dropped below the strike zone. Yammi let it go by.

“Ball one!”

“Right,” Ichigo muttered. He tossed in another breaking ball and Yammi ignored this one, too.

“Ball two!”

Ichigo settled back for the third pitch, watching over his shoulder as Zommari took a lead off first base. He half-turned toward first and Zommari sidled back toward the base. Ichigo nodded and turned back to Yammi. Yammi watched him closely, taking a few easy swings while he waited. Ichigo wound up and Yammi got set. Ichigo pitched and Yammi swung hard. Obviously expecting a fastball, he was taken by surprise when the curveball broke outside. It was too late to hold up his swing and he tipped the ball, sending it bouncing down the first base line. Kenpachi scooped up the ball, tagged first and quickly threw to Ikkaku while Zommari was only half-way to second base. Zommari skidded to a stop when he saw Ikkaku with the ball and made a dash back for first. But Ikkaku threw the ball back to Kenpachi and the big captain tagged him out deftly as Zommari tried to slip around him.

“Wow!” Urahara exclaimed. “The Shinigami catch Zommari in a run-down to complete the double-play, and the Arrancar lose a chance to move ahead. That concludes the top half of the inning and now it's time for the seventh inning stretch. Since this isn't a professional baseball game and we're receiving free television coverage, the entertainment during the break will be hosted by TV personality Don Kanonji!”

“That quack?!” several Shinigami exclaimed.

“BWA-HA-HA!” roared the rest of the crowd, their hands clasping their shoulders.

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen!” Don Kanonji shouted. He bounded into the infield, his cape flying. “Spirits are always with you!”

“We're all spirits, you idiot!” someone shouted.

“I'm not,” Ishida grumbled.

“But never fear!” Kanonji continued as if no one had spoken. “My Kurakara Superheroes are here to protect you with special prizes! Come out, Superheroes!”

One by one, Karin, Yuzu, Jinta and Ururu came onto the field, striking dramatic poses. Then Kon bounded out, his star-spangled blue cape flying, and began dancing on the pitcher's mound.

“I am the most fearsome Superhero!” Kon chanted as he leaped from foot to foot and waved his arms to either side, making odd squeaking noises with every step. He dropped to one knee and jabbed a paw into the air. “I am Godlike!”

“Oh, please!” Jinta groaned. “You're puny and you squeak.”

“I do not!” Kon squeaked.

Kanonji flared his arms. “Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for a most exciting contest! My Superheroes are going to throw beach balls into the stands! You have to keep them moving while the music plays! But when the music stops, whoever is holding the beach ball gets a valuable prize! A protective spirit charm made by yours truly! Bwa-ha-ha!”

“What the hell are we supposed to do with a spirit charm?!” one Hollow demanded.

“You can stick it on the back of the stupid Hollow who keeps hogging all the peanuts!” a tiny Hollow grumbled as it tried, unsuccessfully and for about the twentieth time, to catch a bag of peanuts being thrown in his direction by a vendor before it was snagged by the same bulky Hollow.

“And for the Grand Prize,” Kanonji continued, “one lucky person will get to spend the rest of the game in the luxury VIP box of his choice, hosted by either Yamamoto-GenryÅ«sai, First Captain of the Shinigami, or Aizen Sousuke, leader of the Arrancar!”

“He calls that a grand prize?” Matsumoto exclaimed. “I wouldn't want to be stuck with either of those geezers.”

“That's no way to talk about our venerable leader!” Hitsugaya scolded her. “And Aizen isn't old; he's just a stinking traitor.”

“Yeah, how come the stinking traitor rates a luxury VIP box?” Renji demanded. “He should be sitting in the bleachers with his stinking Hollow buddies!”

Lounging in his luxury VIP box with his feet up, sipping Champagne and munching the most expensive sushi and sashimi being hand-cut for him by an attentive sushi chef, Aizen toasted them with his glass. “Treason has its rewards.”

In the neighboring box, eating a plain rice ball and sipping green tea, Yamamoto-sensei made a face. “Honorless dog,” he muttered.

Ganju scratched his head. “Well, if you ask me, sushi and Champagne sound better than rice balls and tea. I can have that any day. Aizen's box is looking pretty good.”

Renji's face turned red. “You treasonous pig! We should kick you off the team!”

“Fresh sashimi does sound good,” Shunsui murmured.

“You, too?!” Renji gasped.

Shunsui shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “Honor is often betrayed by the needs of the flesh.”

“Not my honor!” Renji declared loudly. “The needs of my flesh are subject to an iron will!”

“And we know who's will that is,” Ichigo remarked in a loud aside to Matsumoto. She snickered equally loudly.

Renji stuck his chin out and pointedly ignored them.

“Anyway,” Ichigo continued, “I don't think we players get to participate in the contest. See? The balls are only in the stands.”

Over the loud speakers, a bouncing, happy tune began to play and the fans started smacking the beach balls into the air. In total, ten balls bounced back and forth. Then the music abruptly stopped and there was a brief scramble as the balls were claimed.

“And we have our first winners!” Kanonji cried jubilantly. “Superheroes, distribute the prizes!”

Karin promptly slapped a spirit charm onto a soccer ball and kicked it at the nearest winner with deadly accuracy. Her ball smacked the unfortunate Shinigami square in the face and he toppled over like a felled tree. She quickly lined up two more balls. Meanwhile, Ururu shouldered her bazooka and rapid-fired four soccer balls into the stands, each with a spirit charm attached. The lucky recipients were knocked several rows back from their seats by their prizes. Not to be outdone, Yuzu slapped spirit charms onto the three remaining soccer balls and tossed them quickly into the air so Jinta could whack them with his oversize club toward the other winners who, unfortunately for them, failed to duck fast enough.

“And guess what!” Kanonji sang out. “You get to keep the soccer balls, too!” He waved his hand. “Start the music!”

“NO!” dozens of fans cried out in horror. “No more prizes!” There were now desperate attempts by all and sundry to knock the balls away at any cost. But sadly, the music stopped again and ten unlucky people were stuck holding beach balls. Even the bone-faced Hollows holding balls looked pale. “Please! I don't need a prize!” But those anguished pleas fell on deaf ears. More soccer balls zoomed into the stands, managing to hit even those winners who were trying in vain to hide under their seats or behind their neighbors.

“Now for the Grand Prize!” Kanonji shouted. “One lucky beach ball contains a Golden Ticket! Whoever has that ball when the music stops wins the Grand Prize!” He waved his hand and the music started again. Now fans batted the balls around with the hope of catching one when the music stopped. When it did stop, fights immediately broke out as eager fans tried to wrestle the balls away from each other. Of course, this resulted in all the balls getting popped. “Who has the Golden Ticket?” Kanonji called out. “Who's the lucky winner?”

“Me!” Asano leaped to his feet, managing to shove off three Shinigami and two Hollows in the process. He waved the Golden Ticket in the air.

“Lucky boy!” Kanonji cried. “Come here and let me congratulate you!”

Eagerly, Asano made his way down the stands and hopped onto the field. He jogged out to Kanonji, waving his ticket and grinning like an idiot. “I never win anything!” he squealed delightedly. “This is so cool!”

Kanonji put an arm around his shoulders. “Well done, my boy! Now, which VIP box would you like to visit? Yamamoto-sensei is an ancient wise man of limitless power! Aizen is a bottomless pool of evil who will drag you into hell! Which is it going to be?”

“Oh, that's a tough one,” Asano said. His brow wrinkled with unaccustomed thought. “I think I'm gonna have to go with Aizen. I never get top quality sushi at home. And I've never had Champagne.”

“You idiot, Asano!” Tatsuki screamed from the stands. “I'm not rescuing your ass when that monster eats your soul!”

“Now, now, there's nothing to fear,” Aizen said with a paternal smile. “I never eat souls with Champagne.”

“That doesn't make any sense!” Tatsuki shouted.

“Of course it does,” Aizen replied urbanely. “All civilized people know you should drink red wine with souls.”

“Augh!” Tatsuki slapped her forehead.

“All right, my boy!” Kanonji patted Asano on the back. “I'll escort you to the Arrancar luxury VIP box where you'll enjoy the rest of the game in lavish comfort. The rest of you lucky winners enjoy your prizes. And don't forget to watch my show!” He folded his arms over his chest and grabbed his shoulders. “Remember! The spirits are always with you! BWA-HA-HA!”

“BWA-HA-HA!” echoed the crowd.

Theme music began to play and the crowd sang along, blowing up long skinny balloons in a variety of colors as they sang. Soon the whole crowd was waving long balloons, their slightly bulbous ends bumping into each other suggestively.

Yoruichi blinked. “Whose idea was it to give the fans balloons?”

“Mine!” Urahara said. “I saw it in a game on TV once. I thought it was very amusing and would get the crowd worked up.”

“I suppose so, if they're into inflatable sex toys.”

“I don't mean that kind of worked up! I mean it gets you excited to see the rest of the game.”

“Ah.” Yoruichi blinked again. “And how does that relate to phallic balloons?”

“They're not phallic!”

“O…k…” Yoruichi pursed her lips and looked away.

The theme music built to a closing crescendo and with a shout, everyone released their balloons. The balloons zoomed around, expending their air and crashing to the ground, leaving the field and the stands littered with the brightly colored, deflated rubber tubes. Everyone cheered and the groundskeepers came out to clean the field.

“And with that exciting finish,” Urahara announced happily, “it's on to the bottom of the seventh inning. The Shinigami will start at the bottom of the order with Matsumoto, who has an RBI single in her two at-bats.”

Matsumoto swaggered up to the plate, but before stepping into the batter's box, she made a show of buttoning up her uniform slightly. The closed buttons strained across her bosom, but held. She grinned at Gin. “I don't want to be accused of trying to distract the pitcher with my rack, assuming he likes that sort of thing.”

“Of course I like that sort of thing!” Grimmjow exclaimed before Gin could say anything.

“Oh, really?” Matsumoto's hand hovered over her buttons. “Would you like me to open it back up?”

“No!” Grimmjow snapped. “I'm just saying I appreciate a good pair of titties just as much as the next man!”

“Oh, well, in that case…” Matsumoto hefted her bat and settled into her stance.

Grimmjow focused on Gin to get the sign and then prepared for his wind-up. The first pitch was a knuckleball that flopped all over the place on its way to the plate.

Matsumoto stared at it as it went by. “What the hell do you call that pitch? Fish Dying in the Net?”

“I'd call it a strike,” Gin chuckled.

“Um, strike one!” Isshin echoed apologetically.

“How could you tell?!” Matsumoto demanded. “It was at four different places at least on its way over the plate!”

“But one of them was in the strike zone,” Isshin explained. “It just needs to pass through the strike zone and be over the plate at some point.”

“So if it's going sideways, it still counts?!”

“I'm afraid so.”

“That's just not right.” Matsumoto resumed her stance, an irritated frown on her face.

Grimmjow threw another knuckleball and Matsumoto swung furiously at it. She topped the ball hard, sending it into a high bounce, and charged down the line at full speed. Grimmjow hopped off the mound and caught the ball on the way down, throwing Matsumoto out easily at first.

“What a stupid pitch!” Matsumoto complained as she returned to the dugout. “It shouldn't be allowed.” She punched Ichigo's arm. “How come you don't throw that pitch?”

“Because knuckleball's are for sissies who can't throw a decent fastball,” Ichigo replied. He plopped his bat on his shoulder and jogged out to the plate.

Grimmjow pressed his lips tightly closed and managed not to rise to the bait. But he kept shaking off Gin's signs, until Gin finally called time in exasperation. He jogged out to the mound.

“He's trying to get ya to throw the fastball,” Gin whispered. “Don't fall for it. The knuckler's working, so let's stick with it.”

“What about a curveball?”

“It's not your best pitch.”

Grimmjow scowled. “All right, I'll stay away from the fastball.”

“Good boy.”

Gin jogged back to the plate and grinned at Ichigo. “Now then, let's get on with your strikeout.”

“Heh!” Ichigo laughed. When the inevitable knuckleball came in, he jumped on the pitch, punching it hard toward left field. But Nnoitra dove for it and, with his long body, easily came up with the ball. He threw Ichigo out at first.

“Damn!” Ichigo muttered, “I almost got that one through.” He clapped Hitsugaya on the shoulder as he jogged back to the dugout. “You see how it's done, right, Toushirou? His knuckleball's not that hard to hit.”

“Of course I see it. And don't call me Toushirou!” Hitsugaya stamped out to the plate.

“He may not throw that pitch,” Renji remarked. “With Hitsugaya-taicho's tiny little strike zone, it might be too hard to get a wild pitch like the knuckleball in.”

“What did you call my strike zone?” Hitsugaya snarled.

“Tiny,” Renji replied calmly.

“I'd say it's more petite,” Ganju put in. “Like his delicate little hands.”

“WHAT?!”

“They're all soft and pretty, like a woman's,” Ganju added helpfully.

Hitsugaya dropped his bat and started back for the dugout. “Let me hear you say that while my delicate little hands are choking the life out of you!”

“Get back to the plate, Hitsugaya-taicho!” Yachiru ordered sternly. “There's nothing wrong with having delicate, pretty hands.” She held up her tiny little appendages. “See? Aren't mine adorable?”

“Very cute!” Everyone in the dugout immediately agreed.

Still muttering under his breath, Hitsugaya returned to the plate and picked up his bat.

Grimmjow, his arms crossed and an amused grin plastered on his face, came to attention. “You ready now?”

“Yeah, just pitch the damn ball!”

Grimmjow immediately threw a fastball straight down the middle of the plate.

“Strike one!”

Wisely, everyone in the Shinigami dugout kept their mouths shut.

Grimmjow wound up for another pitch and floated in a high breaking ball. Hitsugaya pounded it hard straight at Zommari. He was thrown out at first by several paces.

Hitsugaya stormed back to the dugout to get his glove. “Does anyone want to talk about the size of my glove? Because if so, you can find out how big it is when I whack it up the side of your head!”

“No, we're good!” Everyone scurried about getting their own gloves and preparing to run back onto the field.

“Well, Yoruichi, that was an exciting seventh inning!” Urahara exclaimed. “I can't wait for the start of the eighth. I think these teams have some fireworks in store for us.”

“Just as long as it's not more balloons,” Yoruichi muttered. “That was a bit much.”