Y/N only went to the college baseball game because their friends insisted. They ended up near third base, close enough to hear the players breathe. Eijiro Kirishima stepped up to bat — calm, focused, sun catching the edge of his jaw. Then he looked up. And he saw Y/N. It wasn’t a quick glance. It was a full stop — eyes locking, breath hitching, something warm sparking between them like the stadium lights had flicked on early.