Samurai of Seidou: The Otherworldly Ace Who Challenges Koshien - The Morning of the Second Coming

What spread out before his eyes was a dirt baseball field. Touya stood there, utterly dumbfounded. Just moments ago, he should have been dozing off in his apartment while reading *Ace of Diamond*. Yet before he knew it, he was standing in an unfamiliar place. And not just anywhere—smack in the middle of a meticulously maintained baseball field, without a single weed in sight. "[surprised]Where... is this?" Speaking the words aloud didn't magically produce an answer. Looking left, looking right—a back screen, dugouts, spectator stands. Everything was the real deal, far too impressive for a high school field. Just then, a sharp metallic *clink* rang out. Someone was taking practice swings in the distance. He could see players in white uniforms playing catch here and there. The sounds that reached his ears were the satisfying pop of mitts and the crunch of spikes kicking up dirt. "Alright! Let's give it our all again today!" An incredibly loud voice boomed from the corner of the field. (*That voice... Sawamura?*) Touya rubbed his eyes. No matter how many times he looked, the person standing there was none other than Sawamura Eijun, a character from the manga *Ace of Diamond*. That bright, earnest face he'd seen countless times in the manga. That characteristically booming voice. (*What's going on?*) Touya stared at his right hand. He turned his palm over. On his right elbow was an old surgical scar, about ten centimeters long. This was unmistakably his own body. The scar from when he'd torn his anterior cruciate ligament. But something was off. He clenched his hand and opened it. It was a youthful hand with few wrinkles. Not the right hand he'd abused for years after turning pro. This was the hand of a high schooler. "[serious]So it's not a dream." Touya murmured quietly. The wind blew, and the scent of the field's dirt filled his nostrils. It wasn't the smell he'd known on a pro mound, nor the smell of corporate league baseball. It was younger, purer—the smell from a time when he still knew nothing. Come to think of it, it had always smelled like this back in high school. The regional qualifier finals, with a ticket to Koshien on the line. Bottom of the ninth, two outs, bases loaded. Striking out the final batter, then hugging his teammates and crying. That might have been the brightest moment of his entire life. After turning pro, he'd stood on the mound countless times, but his heart had never trembled like that again. "...Can I stand there again?" Looking toward the mound, Touya unconsciously swung his right arm. The sharp fastball he'd thrown in the Koshien finals. The forkball he'd polished after turning pro. And the skill for reading a batter's psyche, which he'd learned during his two years in the corporate league. He had all of it now. The pain in his elbow wasn't flaring up either. His muscle strength had declined, sure, but reproducing his form wasn't a problem. Touya glanced around. No one had noticed him yet. He slowly raised his right leg. It was the motion he'd repeated thousands of times as a pro. Shifting his weight onto his left foot, he whipped his arm through the air as if slicing it. The sensation of the wind grazing the fingers of his right hand. Compared to his pro days in his previous life, he still lacked muscle strength. At best, he'd be lucky to hit 140 kilometers per hour. The sharpness of his fastball didn't reach the level he'd thrown as a pro either. But one thing was certain—this wasn't the kind of pitch a high schooler could throw. Above all, his release point didn't waver. That was a technique his past self had spent three years engraving into his body. Watching the players taking practice swings a short distance away, Touya sorted through his situation in his mind. "Seems like I've ended up inside a manga." There was no way he could believe something like this. But his body was that of a sixteen-year-old high schooler, and right now, the ones doing batting practice in front of him were Sawamura and Furuya. There was no doubt about it. Anyway, first he needed to find the team's clubroom. He turned his eyes to a building at the edge of the field. It was a small prefabricated structure. Several faded posters were plastered on its walls. Pairs of spikes lay scattered in the hallway, and a bucket sat in front of the cleaning supply closet. A plate reading "Seidou High School Baseball Club Room" hung at the building's entrance. Lively voices could be heard from inside. "Miyuki-senpai! You've gotta catch my pitches today!" "Sawamura, you're loud. Be quiet." "What'd you say?! And you call yourself the starting catcher, senpai?!" Touya let out a small laugh. It was an exchange straight out of the original story. Sawamura's energetic voice. Miyuki's cool reply. A scene he'd read countless times in the manga was now reaching his ears as real sound. "And Furuya, you need to polish your control a bit more. Walking batters one after another is out of the question." "...Okay." "And you—your reactions are way too muted! Did you see a ghost or something?!" Noisy. But warm. On a team like this, maybe he could play baseball again too. Maybe he wouldn't have to taste that frustration he'd felt back then ever again. Touya took a deep breath. Then, he placed his hand on the clubroom door. With a creak, every eye in the room turned toward Touya at once. Faced with a stranger who had suddenly appeared, the team members wore puzzled expressions. Sawamura tilted his head—"Hm? Who's that?"—while Miyuki stared intently at Touya. Furuya was as expressionless as ever. "[serious]Excuse me. I'm here to request admission to the team. My name is Kujou Touya." At Touya's voice, the atmosphere in the clubroom shifted slightly. The sound of metal bats still echoed from the field. Outside the window, the footsteps of someone running drills resounded. All of it felt distant now. "Please, let me speak with the coach."

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Episode 1

Name: Samurai of Seidou: The Otherworldly Ace Who Challenges Koshien
Author: Novelia

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