Samurai of Seidou: The Otherworldly Ace Who Challenges Koshien - Episode 3

The sound of the mitt still echoed in his ears. The deep, gut-rumbling bass of Furuya's blazing fastball at the moment of impact. The dry pop of Sawamura's quirky pitches as they fluttered just before reaching the catcher's glove. Kujou Touya stood alone on the nighttime field. It was already past ten at night. The baseball dorm's curfew had long since passed, but the empty field showed a completely different face than it did during the day. The lights were off, and only the moonlight faintly illuminated the mound. The white wall of the back screen floated up, pale and ghostly. Today, he had entered the bullpen for the first time. It was only yesterday that Coach Kataoka had said, "Put him on the bullpen standby list." And this morning, Touya had pitched in Seidou's bullpen for the first time in his life. The result—was disastrous. "...Tch." Touya clicked his tongue quietly. He raised his right arm and moved into his shadow pitching motion. Slowly lifting his right leg, shifting his weight onto his left, and following through with his arm. The sound of cutting through air echoed across the silent field. No good. His arm wasn't moving the way he wanted. His release point wasn't stable. The sharpness of his pitches had clearly dropped compared to his professional days in his previous life. 142 kilometers per hour. That was the velocity measured in the bullpen today. Furuya had clocked in at 155. Even Sawamura was far superior to Touya when it came to handling moving balls. (*I'm supposed to know more about baseball than them.*) Touya bit his lip. He had the knowledge. Reading pitch sequences, spotting a batter's habits, the mental control to shift the flow of a game—he had learned all of it in his previous life. Skills he had acquired desperately trying to survive in the professional world, in corporate league baseball. But his body couldn't keep up. This sixteen-year-old body was completely different from the twenty-seven-year-old body of his past life. His strength and endurance were still nowhere near enough. His mind knew the ideal form, but his body couldn't reproduce it. (*Damn it.*) He swung his arm again. At the moment of release, an old injury in his elbow throbbed dully. —Phantom pain. He remembered the doctor's words when he had torn his ligament in his previous life. *"You won't be able to stand on a professional mound again."* The white walls of the rehab room. The ball he had gripped over and over again. And yet, until the very end, he hadn't been able to give up on pitching. Touya closed his eyes. Three deep breaths. Calming his heart rate. A mental control technique he had learned in his previous life. Something he had often used to steady himself during tense moments in games. (*Don't panic yet. It's only just begun.*) He told himself that. Just getting into the bullpen was a step forward. The coach was watching him properly. He had acknowledged Touya's running on the back hill and given him a chance. Right now, he still couldn't hold a candle to Furuya or Sawamura. But— (*I have something those guys don't.*) Experience. The experience of failing, getting injured, falling to rock bottom, and still trying to claw his way back up. The experience of giving up, and yet being unable to give up. That should weigh more than any talent. The wind blew. A lukewarm breeze swept through the nighttime field. Proof that summer was approaching. Soon, the Koshien qualifiers would begin. Touya looked up at the sky. The moon hid behind the clouds, and the surroundings grew even darker. (*Koshien—*) In his previous life, he had made it to the Summer Koshien just once. They had lost in the second round, but he still remembered the excitement of that day. The spectators filling the stands. The brass band's performance. The cheers raining down from the Alps stands. The sensation that the world existed solely for them. It was a completely different kind of heat from a professional mound. (*To that place, one more time.*) Touya clenched his fist. This time—he wouldn't lose. Just then, a small noise came from the corner of the field. Touya turned around reflexively. Beyond the darkness, he saw a figure. Small, wearing sneakers instead of spikes. He could tell by the way they walked. "...Fujiwara?" "[surprised]Eh, you could tell?" Emerging from the darkness was Fujiwara Takako. She was wearing a Seidou jersey and carrying something in both hands. As she got closer, he realized it was a plastic bag. "[cold]What are you doing here at this hour?" "[gentle]That's my line. Curfew was ages ago." Takako spoke in a slightly scolding tone. But her eyes were smiling. She must have come out of worry. Touya didn't answer and turned back toward the mound. "[gentle]...Are you still going to pitch?" "Not really." "Your elbow is hurting, isn't it?" Touya's shoulders trembled slightly. "[cold]No." "Yes, it is. Earlier, during your shadow pitching, you grimaced for just a moment at release. That's proof of strain on your elbow." (*She was watching.*) Touya clicked his tongue inwardly. Her observational skills were sharp, as expected. It figured, given that her family ran an osteopathic clinic. Takako took a step closer to Touya. "[gentle]Are you using the gel pack for icing I gave you before?" "...I'm using it." "That's a lie." Touya fell silent. "[sad]After you finish running, are you cooling it properly? Just fifteen minutes. I told you that any more than that is counterproductive, remember?" "[cold]Where am I supposed to find that kind of time?" His voice came out lower than even he expected. "Running, basic drills, pitching in the bullpen—that alone takes up the whole day. If I spend time on icing, I can't do the other practice." "[angry]And if you break down because of that, what's the point?!" Takako's voice rang out across the nighttime field. It wasn't her usual reserved tone. It was a voice genuinely filled with anger. It was the first time she had shown this much emotion. "[angry]Why do you go so far for baseball? Why do you push yourself that hard?" Touya didn't answer. The moon peeked out from between the clouds, illuminating Takako's face. Her eyes were slightly glistening. "...Just leave me alone." "[angry]I can't leave you alone!" Takako thrust the plastic bag against Touya's chest. Inside were a new gel pack, bandages, and a small Tupperware container. The contents of the container—were rice balls. Still faintly warm. "[sad]I asked Yamada-san in the dorm kitchen to make them. I told her that Kujou-senpai is practicing until late at night, so please make sure he eats properly." Touya was at a loss for words. "[sad]Yamada-san was worried too. She said, 'Kujou-kun pushes himself too hard, so someone has to stop him.'" (*Yamada-san—*) The dorm mother, Yamada Sumiko. The sixty-two-year-old woman who always made the team members her "Stamina Pork Bowl." She had been concerned about Touya too? "[whispers]...Why do you go this far?" "[gentle]Because it's a manager's job." Takako smiled a little. "And also," She looked down for just a moment, then raised her face. "[gentle]Ever since we first met, I've thought so. Kujou-senpai is different from other people." "Different?" "[gentle]Your eyes are different. Your eyes, senpai, are the eyes of someone who has lost something. But they're also the eyes of someone who still hasn't given up." Deep in Touya's chest, something felt like it was creaking. "[gentle]My father once said, 'There are two kinds of people who've been injured. Those who use it as an excuse, and those who still try to move forward.' He said Kujou-senpai is definitely the latter." "...You talked to your father about me?" "[surprised]Ah." Takako covered her mouth. She probably hadn't meant to say that. "[gentle]...I'm sorry. Our place is an osteopathic clinic. When I consulted him about your elbow, he said, 'That guy has probably broken down once before.' So I got curious about what kind of pitching form you have." Touya let out a small breath. (*He saw through it.*) As expected of a professional judo therapist. Fujiwara Takako's father, without ever having met him, had accurately guessed Touya's injury history. "[gentle]According to my father, if you take proper care of it, it should still be okay. But he said that with your current practice volume, you might not last through all three years of high school." Takako's voice was utterly serious. "[cold]...What should I do?" The words came out of Touya's mouth naturally. Words his normal self would never have said. He had never once asked anyone for help, not since his professional days in his previous life. But—now was different. Looking into Takako's eyes, seeing her earnest expression, for some reason he felt that way. Takako's eyes widened for a moment, then she smiled happily. "First, icing after practice is non-negotiable. Cool your elbow and shoulder for fifteen minutes. Also, just once a week is fine, so please come to our clinic. My father will examine you properly." "...Fine." "[surprised]Eh? Really? Is that okay?" "Until just now, you were the one telling me to come." "[laughing]W-Well, yes... but I didn't think you'd actually listen so obediently." Takako laughed out loud. Her smile was so bright it was visible even in the darkness. Touya averted his eyes from that smile. (*Why is it?*) Deep in his chest, a warmth was spreading. "[serious]And also, this." Takako opened the Tupperware. Inside were two salted rice balls. Wrapped in nori, still faintly warm. "[gentle]Please eat. After practice, you have to take in proper nutrition. Otherwise, you won't build muscle." Touya silently accepted the rice ball. He took a bite. The salt level was just right, and the rice was plump and fluffy. Completely different from a cold rice ball—this was the taste of one freshly made. "...It's good." "[laughing]Good. Yamada-san was really enthusiastic about making them." Touya stuffed another bite of the rice ball into his mouth. As he ate, a thought suddenly occurred to him. (*When was the last time I ate a warm meal?*) The last few years of his previous life—the period after being fired from the pros, trying to claw his way back up on a corporate team. Back then, it was nothing but convenience store bento. Never sitting around a table with anyone, just alone, silently, shoveling down tasteless food. "[gentle]Kujou-senpai." Takako was standing beside him. Before he knew it, she had come right next to him. Her shoulder was close enough to almost touch his arm. "[gentle]I'll say this as a manager." Takako looked straight up at Touya. "[serious]I want to see you go to Koshien." Under the moonlight, her dark eyes were glistening. "[gentle]So please, don't break. Before you break, let me help you." For a while, Touya couldn't say anything. The wind blew across the nighttime field. In the distance, the lights of the dorm were faintly visible. "...Alright." He finally managed just that. Takako lowered her eyes for just a moment, then smiled happily. "[gentle]It's a promise." Saying that, she held out her pinky finger. Touya hesitated for a moment, but in the end, he hooked his own pinky around hers. Takako's finger was much smaller and warmer than he had expected. (*This kind of thing... might not be so bad.*) Touya murmured that inside his mouth. Of course, he didn't say it out loud. * * * The next morning. When Touya returned to the field after finishing his usual run on the back hill, the team members were already gathered. "Kujou!" A voice called out, and he turned to see Sawamura Eijun running up to him. As loud as ever. "[excited]I saw you in the bullpen yesterday! Not bad!" "...Is that so." "[serious]But still, there's no beating my quirky pitches! They go all *whoosh* right at the batter's hands, you know! A straight like yours, if it hi

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Episode 3

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

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