Samurai of Seidou: The Otherworldly Ace Who Challenges Koshien - Shadow Runner

A sharp metallic sound echoed across the still-dim practice field. 　*THUD!* 　Next came the sound of a mitt. The impact was so powerful that the catcher stumbled backward. 　"Whoa...!" 　The second-year catcher in the bullpen couldn't help but let his voice slip. From behind his mask, he looked up at the pitcher on the mound. Standing there was a giant of a man who had only just become a first-year—Furuya Satoru. 　Furuya said nothing, simply staring at the ball in his right hand. He gave a small nod to the catcher, who was calling for the next pitch, then raised his right leg high. His long arm bent like a whip, snapping forward. 　*BOOM!!* 　Again. This time, the catcher's mitt moved yet another step backward. 　Kujou Touya watched it all in silence from the corner of the bullpen. 　Three days since he'd joined the team. The words Coach Kataoka had spoken still lingered in his ears. *"You still lack basic physical strength. For now, just focus on running and stretching. As for the rest of practice—observe."* 　Observe. 　In other words, he wasn't considered useful to the team. 　Touya let out a small breath. He'd known this would happen. This was Seidou—a prestigious school aiming for Koshien. Their pitching staff was stacked with super-high-school-level talent. 　Furuya, who had been throwing just moments ago, hurled fastballs that made the mitt sing with every pitch. It was hard to believe he was a first-year—no, even among third-years, almost no one possessed that level of power. 　In the lane next to him, left-handed pitcher Sawamura Eijun was releasing balls from his unique form. His velocity was nothing special. But the ball danced softly right at the batter's hands. The catcher fumbled behind him more than once. "[excited]Alright! How d'you like that, my tricky pitch!" 　Sawamura shouted at the top of his lungs. Whether on the mound or in the bullpen, this guy was loud no matter where he was. But that brightness helped shape the team's atmosphere. Touya had enough composure to acknowledge that much. 　The pitchers didn't stop there. The ace, Tanba Kouichirou, was nailing strike after strike with his stable form. The calmness expected of a third-year, with well-rounded, controlled pitching. 　Touya's 142 km/h fastball wasn't any kind of weapon here. 　No—it was more than that. 　Touya's hands still hadn't gripped anything. He hadn't stepped onto the mound even once. Hadn't thrown a single pitch to a batter. "Kujou." 　A voice called out. He turned to see Coach Kataoka standing with his arms crossed. The eyes behind those sunglasses were impossible to read. "Have you finished today's running?" "...Not yet." "Then go. You don't have time to stand around here." 　With just those words, the coach walked off toward the bullpen. 　Touya gave a small nod and stepped off the field. 　The sky was only just beginning to lighten. At this hour, before the other team members gathered, he could run without anyone watching. 　Behind Seidou's campus, there was a roughly 2.5-kilometer running course that circled the hilly terrain. It had several steep uphill sections along the way—the perfect place to build leg and core strength. 　Touya had been running there relentlessly. 　His previous life—the days spent breaking his elbow as a pro, then drowning in rehab. The days of trying to claw his way back up through a corporate-league team, only to have his dreams severed in the end. From those experiences, he had devised an interval running regimen to push himself to the limit. 　Alternating between all-out sprints and jogs. Driving himself until his heart and lungs felt like they would collapse, and still moving his legs. *(This is fine. I can still do this. I can still play baseball.)* 　He told himself that in his mind. 　But he knew. 　This was the same as his previous life. The same as that time when he'd hidden his injury, kept pushing himself, and ultimately broke. 　The old pain in his elbow seemed to throb dully back to life. Even knowing it was phantom pain, his right hand instinctively protected his elbow. 　Even so, Touya didn't stop running. 　If anything, he ran faster. *—This is my way.* 　He couldn't rely on anyone, couldn't voice his weakness, couldn't ask for help. That was how he'd lived, and that was how he'd played baseball. Even knowing it was wrong, he couldn't change. 　On the second day, he ran the same course. 　On the morning of the third day, he was running through thick morning fog with poor visibility. His heart rate climbed. Breathing became painful. His legs felt heavy as lead. *(Not yet. More.)* 　He was about to start another lap. 　That's when his vision warped. 　The scenery bent and twisted as if melting. He lost all sense of front, back, left, and right, and he could feel the ground rushing toward him. 　His knees hit the dirt. *(This is bad...)* 　He tried to put his hands out, but he had no strength. Just as he was about to collapse completely— 　Small hands caught his shoulders. "[angry]Are you planning to run until you collapse?!" 　It was a voice he didn't recognize. 　He lifted his head to find a girl standing there. Short black hair. Features that still held a trace of childishness. But her eyes alone were strangely intense, staring straight at Touya. 　She was wearing a Seidou jersey. A team manager. 　Touya didn't recognize her face. ...No, he might have seen her somewhere during practice, but he'd never spoken to her. "[cold]...It's none of your business." 　The words came out unconsciously. 　Touya tried to shake off her hands. But his legs still had no strength. Unable to stand, he dropped to his knees again. 　The girl didn't back down. "There's no way it's none of my business. When a player collapses, it's a manager's job to stop them." 　Her tone was firm. 　But he could sense something trembling beneath her voice. It wasn't just anger. ...Worry? "And besides, you..." 　She looked at his right arm. "...You've injured your right elbow before, haven't you?" 　At those words, Touya's body went rigid. 　Deep in his chest, something shattered like glass. 　Memories from his previous life came flooding back all at once. 　The searing pain in his elbow that day on the mound. The words the doctor told him at the hospital: "ligament rupture." The white walls of the rehab room. The bottomless despair when he realized he could never pitch again. "[serious]...What makes you think that?" "My family runs an osteopathic clinic. So I can tell from little things—like quirks in someone's form." 　She introduced herself as Fujiwara. She crouched down and gently touched his elbow. 　Her hand was small and warm. "The more you push yourself, the more this elbow will break." 　Touya couldn't say anything. "...Why go so far? Is baseball really something worth destroying yourself over?" 　Her voice trembled, just a little. "I don't want to become a manager who breaks her players." 　She sounded like she was on the verge of tears. 　For the first time, Touya looked directly at her face. 　Her large black eyes were slightly wet with tears. But she didn't avert her gaze. Even while afraid, she was trying to face him properly. 　Deep in Touya's chest, a distant memory stirred. 　The night he'd been cut from the pros. In his tiny apartment where he lived alone, the words his girlfriend at the time had said. *"Please, just quit baseball. You're going to destroy yourself."* 　She'd had similar eyes back then. Worried, scared, not knowing what to do. Eyes like that. 　And Touya, back then too—had let go. 　No. 　Touya closed his eyes. He suppressed his emotions. 　There was no point dwelling on the past here. This wasn't his previous life anymore. Clinging to a past that would never return was meaningless. "[serious]...It's nothing. Not something worth worrying about that much." 　He stood up. His legs were still shaking, but he was fine now. "Kujou Touya." "...Fujiwara Takako. I'm a first-year manager." 　An awkward introduction. 　With just that, Touya turned to leave. 　But before he could, Takako spoke. "I'll come here again tomorrow." 　Touya turned back. "[surprised]...Why?" "Because it's my job as a manager." 　Takako said that, then smiled faintly. 　The morning sun was beginning to rise, its light catching her black hair. Her smile was a little awkward, but somehow, it was reassuring. 　Touya started walking without a word. 　But deep in his chest, he felt a small warmth. *(...It's been a long time.)* 　Since anyone had worried about him. 　The next morning. 　When he went to the hill behind the school again, Takako was truly there waiting for him. 　She silently held out a plastic bag. "[gentle]...What's this?" "It's a gel pack for icing. Do you know how to use it?" "...Yes." 　He took it. Even through the bag, a cool chill reached his hands. "After you finish running, apply it to your elbow. Only fifteen minutes the first day. Any more than that will have the opposite effect." 　With just those words, Takako hurried off toward the field. 　Left alone, Touya stared at the gel pack in his hands. 　She'd said it was something they used at her family's clinic. *(She brought this just for me?)* 　For a moment, he felt his heartbeat quicken. 　Touya ignored it and started running. *—But as he ran, he thought.* *(Not bad.)* 　Having someone care about him—it wasn't so bad. Just a little. 　It happened during practice that afternoon. 　Touya was stretching in the corner of the field again when Coach Kataoka approached. "Kujou." 　A low voice. Touya stood and straightened his posture. "What are you doing on the back hill?" 　His heart felt like it stopped for a second. *—He'd been watching.* 　Touya took a breath and answered honestly. "I've been doing extra running. My basic stamina still isn't enough." 　The coach said nothing. The eyes behind the sunglasses were fixed on Touya. Impossible to read what he was thinking. "...I see." 　With just that, the coach walked away. 　That night. 　A baseball team meeting was held. About eighty members gathered in the clubroom. Before them, the coach spoke. "We're changing part of the practice menu starting tomorrow." 　He could hear someone gulp. "Kujou." 　Hearing his name called, Touya straightened his back. "Starting tomorrow, you'll be added to the bullpen standby list." 　A stir ran through the clubroom. 　The bullpen standby list—a list that only included pitchers whose ability had been recognized by the coach, those permitted to actually practice pitching. Touya, who until just days ago had been told to "just run and stretch," was being added to it. "[angry]Why just him?!" 　Sawamura shot to his feet and shouted. His face was bright red. 　But the coach didn't flinch. "Do you want to know the reason?" "I do!" "Because Kujou has been running the back hill course every morning at five. While the rest of you are still asleep." 　The clubroom fell silent. 　Sawamura's mouth hung open—he was frozen, no exaggeration. Furuya, sitting next to him, was expressionless as always, but his eyes shifted slightly toward Touya. "...Any team member can seize an opportunity through effort. Don't forget that." 　With just those words, the coach ended the meeting. 　Touya kept his head down, unable to move. *(So this is finally the starting line.)* 　He was only entering the bullpen. That didn't mean he'd face batters. It didn't mean he'd play in games. 　But even so—he'd moved forward. 　As the team members began stirring noisily, Touya stood up alone in the corner of the clubroom. 　At that moment, he glanced toward the entrance and saw Takako standing there. 　She was smiling—small, but unmistakable. 　Touya averted his eyes. 　But the warmth deep in his chest still lingered there. 　A few days later, during practice, Sawamura approached Touya. "Hey, Kujou." 　Not his usual loud voice—it was a little quieter than normal. "[serious]Why are you always alone

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Episode 2

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

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