Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sempiternal.

Syn: Eternal, perpetual, infinite, immortal, imperishable, interminable, indefectible, enduring.

Ant: Finite.

From latin: sempiternus.

1. adj. That will last forever; that, having had a beginning, will have no end

“Mexico's national team requests a player change. Changing: number 10, Jose Ortiz for Miguel Romero, number 48; as pinch hitter. Number 18, batter, Miguel Romero.”

“Eijun! One out!”

“One more out, Jun!”

“Let’ em hit!”

“Strike him out!”

Eijun feels sweat trickling down his face. The lights of Dodger Stadium are just as bright as the first day he stepped on the mound to unleash his pitching— the heat of the moment builds more and more in his body even though it's a cold night.

He can hear his heart pounding, the distance between him and the batter has never been greater.

His Aibou, the other half of his battery, shows unparalleled concentration as he digs into the batter's infield. His bright yellow glove stands firm to call for the last pitch of the game.

Give me your best pitch, Aibou.

Eijun takes a deep breath, his hand unconsciously squeezing the ball he’s holding as he nods.

The sound of the crowd, the screams of the dugout; everything is slowly disappearing to leave only a blank space where there is only him, his aibou and the batter.

His foot is lifted as high as possible. The movement makes him exhale to the point where you can see slight steam coming out of his mouth. The ball in his hand feels light— so easy to hold.

His foot comes down fast, a hard thump against the ground is heard as he puts all his strength and will into his fingertips. The wall formed by his right hand is more stable than ever...

Watching the ball shoot out of his fingers into the glove of his Aibou is a unique experience, one of the few times when the adrenaline allows him to see his own pitch in slow motion.

It’s beautiful, an almost divine trajectory.

The batter swings hard and...

.

.

.

“STRIKE! —BATTER OUT!”

The sound of the fans has never been louder. But even with that, the sound of the glove catching his pitch is something that repeats over and over in his mind.

“With this, the U.S.A national team is crowned as the worlds champions! What an incredible match!”

“Aibou!” Erick enters his apartment without permission. His casual clothes are practically bigger than his body and Eijun has to repress the fact that he wants to make fun of the My Little Pony T-shirt his partner wears.

“Erick, did your sister threaten you to wear that ugly shirt?”

“Amigo, what are you talking about? You still don't understand that the magic of friendship is what made us win?” his friend says with thanks as he protectively hugs his shirt, leaving a bag on the ground.

Eijun smiles at Erick's words, if there is something he has always liked about his drumming partner, it is how he seems to use many words from different languages in their common language. Aibou, is one of those words that the moment Eijun said it because of a slip of the tongue, it stuck forever.

“Aibou? Like... Partners? I watch some animes, but that's what that word means, right?”

Eijun smiles.

“Hmp! That's right! From now on you are my partner, my other half, the other double A battery! You will be the only one I will call: Aibou! Are you ready to make works of art with me?”

The catcher smiles, his brown eyes glowing with an unimaginable intensity, almost taking on a crimson hue.

“Can I call you aibou too?!”

“Of course!”

“Then, let's make works of art, Aibou.”

Eijun laughs loudly.

“Of course, let's leave out the fact that you and I are from the same team, and we have been together for almost six years... We're the ultimate battery! We've been reminding that to everyone for the past few years!”

However, when he says those words Erick's smile dims. Eijun blinks, confused.

His partner then sits down on the sofa in the apartment. He no longer smiles and instead looks down at the floor as if Eijun's unwept floor is something to behold.

Eijun sits beside him, fully aware that whatever his other half wants to say is important. He remains silent until finally his partner looks up to meet his eyes.

“The best battery in the world," whispers Erick, even with the sudden change of mood, the catcher manages to sketch a faint smile, "I wish it would stay that way for a long time.”

Erick's smile is sad and inside, Eijun can feel the panic invade his body, his mind knows what his Aibou is going to say. He has lived it many times; so many that he can no longer count them on the fingers of his hands.

The feeling of betrayal is very strong. But before he can say anything, his partner steps forward.

“Eijun," his name is whispered sadly, "My baseball career is over.”

What...?

Perhaps he said aloud his thoughts because Erick answers his question.

“I'm not going to be able to play baseball anymore...”

Why?

How?

When?

“I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. My family already had a history, but I only found out about it when I went for my last checkup... Apparently it was a long time ago, but my symptoms were so mild that I was never diagnosed in time. Eijun, I...”

“Why didn't you tell me?!” Japanese rolls off his tongue. Anger builds up in his stomach as well as sadness. He can't believe it; he can't accept it! “Why didn't you tell me! Erick! You... You... You…!!”

It's Erick! It's his Aibou! His nakama! His catcher! His...!

“I didn't want to worry you! I didn't want you to think about it with Worlds so close and I... I just wanted to play with you longer! I wanted to experience your pitching again! To be a battery, to be the best battery in the world... To have a memory that lasts my whole life... I'm… I’m sorry if that was selfish on my part.”

“Of course it's selfish," he wants to say, but finds he doesn't have the heart to say so. He can't.

In that quiet night, his partner vomits all his emotions, all his suffering and frustration for the sad end of his passion. His broken dreams and regrets.

However, Eijun is there for him. He is there to comfort him; so that just like on the diamond they play on, none of them will die alone.

The last games with his Aibou feel like a long dream. A wonderful dream from which he does not want to wake up to face the fact that once again, he will be incomplete in the sport he loves the most.

“Let's play without regrets, Eijun," the Spanish escapes from his partner's lips, who raises his fist; Erick looks at him with the same confidence as always, with the same light in his eyes that he has always had since he knowns him. Eijun ends up colliding fists, knowing very well that this will be the last time his Aibou will catch his throws.

“No regrets," he whispers in his friend's language, eliciting a chuckle from him due to his still slurred pronunciation. Erick replies in a deliberate terrible Japanese that makes Eijun smile.

“Let's shout to the world that we are here, Aibou.”

Strikes, outs, fouls and balls. The entire repertoire of pitches he has at his disposal is used to the best of their ability; all of them are thrown, hit or received in this last game. The sound of the wooden bats hitting the ball put Eijun in the zone, just like every time a strike and outs are called.

Eijun branded his Aibou as selfish, but he is just as selfish when all he wants out of this game is to pitch and pitch into Erick's gauntlet.

Maybe the team knows what's going on between the two of them, and that's why they're keeping them in for all nine innings of the game. Maybe they all know this is the dream battery's last game, and they let them have this moment.

Their team does not win the game. They went to overtime and although their offense seemed more incredible than usual, the enemy team ended up scoring first.

They cry. It’s a sad moment because of what it means to both.

The whole team and their coach hugged them as if it was the last time they would see them, and in a way they were right, after that game the announcement of Erick's retirement spread like wildfire and Eijun couldn't stand the pain every time the media and people talked as if it was the end for his team.

For Eijun, practice is no longer the same without his Aibou. It's strange to have someone else to catch for him. For some reason, when his new partner catches his throws, the sound that his glove makes doesn't sound the same.

“Aibou.” Erick arrives at his apartment unannounced as usual. But this time, Eijun notices the luggage he has, it's three in the morning on a cold night and yet he doesn't feel like yelling at him how crazy he is for waking him up at this hour. “I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to you, at least not without...”

“I will accompany you to the airport.”

“Ei...”

“I won't be long. Please, wait for me.”

Eijun had never dressed as quickly as he did at that moment. He wraps himself up warmly and rushes out to catch the taxi that has been patiently waiting for Erick.

They don't talk during the ride, but they don't need to. It is a comfortable silence and Eijun likes to think that they have already said everything they needed to say to each other, they were always a battery that constantly expressed what they needed and how they wanted it. Always showing each other their feelings.

Eijun learned a lot from Erick, just as Erick learned from him.

Arriving at the airport is pleasant. Eijun helps his friend unload all his luggage while they walk through the terminal to the place where the catcher will soon take his flight. Eijun really underestimate the pain of seeing his partner go away.

An hour, he still has an hour to talk a bit more. An hour for Eijun to accept that his Aibou will be leaving his side.

“Do you really have to go?”

Erick gives him a small melancholic smile, his hands reach out to hold him, and only then, Eijun notices that certain fingers are in slightly abnormal positions. “In Mexico they have an experimental treatment, if all goes well my arthritis could be delayed enough for me to have a good quality of life. I could continue to play baseball, but not professionally.”

Eijun wants to cry. His Aibou does not deserve this cruel fate. He doesn’t deserve to be struck by such a cruel disease at such a young age.

“On the bright side, I could become a trainer and raise little catchers that can catch such monstrous throws like yours," he says in a joking tone, but Eijun knows him well enough to know that he's serious.

“You know, I could...”

“No.”

“You didn't even let me finish!”

“I know what you're thinking, Bakamura," Erick says seriously, squeezing his hands. “You were going to say that you could come with me, weren't you?”

Eijun nods stupidly, embarrassed.

Erick knows him very well...

“My country has nothing to envy about American or Japanese baseball, but you came from Japan with nothing but crude English and motivation to train and play in the big leagues... I can't let you throw away your dream like that, Eijun.

“But...!”

“Aibou," Erick's serious tone makes him freeze, leaving him no choice but to listen and look straight into his eyes, his reddish hair combed back as usual, with some hair falling slightly forward. “You're a great pitcher. A great player. If you're amazing now, imagine what the future holds for you! but to get there, you have to stay here.”

Erick puts one of his hands on Eijun's chest, a very distinctive gesture of his partner, something he always does when he leaves the mound for a timeout.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

Eijun does not answer verbally, but nods. Erick smiles wistfully, his hand pulling back to a pocket in his pants, searching for something. When he finds it, he grabs one of Eijun's hands to give him the object between his fingers. Something cold.

When Eijun opens his hand to see it, a sigh of astonishment escapes from his lips. What he is holding between his fingers is a small golden pendant, and the figure engraved on it appears to be that of a robed woman.

He has seen his partner wearing it all the time, never letting go of it or letting others touch it, but here’s Eijun, holding with his bare hands something that is very precious to his...

“Where I was born... It is a tradition to give girls a pendant when they make their First Communion; clearly I’m not a girl, but my aunt thought it would be funny to buy me one,” time passes quickly for both of them, at the airport they already give the sign of their imminent separation, but the last thing Eijun wants is to let him go, “I've been wearing it ever since, it's an important part of me, so I want you to have it. Aibou, use it so you never feel alone on the mound, use it as a good luck charm to pursue your dreams.”

“The international flight to: Mexico; Mexico City, is about to depart. Ten minutes to board.”

“Erick...”

The catcher looks at him with a smile on his face, the two have not separated their hands and their fingers are smoothly entangled despite the calluses they each have.

“You know, I used to hate our battery title with all my strength," Erick speaks softly, almost in a whisper, "being called the dream battery was an insult to me, it was a way of never making us forget how we got here, a mockery of the American dream we were both pursuing.”

Erick clenches his hands. His eyes sparkle with melancholy.

“I feel like I'm seventeen again and standing in front of La Bestia, debating whether or not to get on that huge train. It's intimidatingly big, you know? The first time I saw it I froze and couldn't move until there were seconds left before it left. La Bestia marked me in ways I'm not proud of, at night sometimes I think I hear its whistle or at worst, the screams of when people fell on the rails... the blood... the abuse... five thousand miles of travel that will never leave me.”

Eijun doesn’t want to cry. He knows the story too well— he knows Erick's pain when he shares how he got here. Where Eijun had the means to be welcomed with his head held high, his Aibou not.

His hands clench painfully.

“But I don't regret it, I was fortunate that the coyote I got really helped me get through. I don't regret the work in the fields under the hellish sun, the thousands of dishes I washed or the construction jobs I took. I don't regret going to that park in California late at night only to run into another baseball idiot who thought it was a good idea to practice there too.”

They are funny memories, happy memories that turn into painful and sad ones when Eijun realizes that Erick has to leave. That his Aibou is leaving.

Please.

He can no longer laugh at the memory when the female voice announces the last call.

Don’t leave…

At some point, the sound of people around her disappears. At some point, the sunlight comes out and illuminates the figure of Erick, who squeezes his hand and says something softly in Spanish. Two words that stick in Eijun’s brain along with the movement of his lips, but that his ears don't seem to hear.

Let me come with you!

For some reason, he can only see the moment when their hands part and soon, he no longer sees those brown eyes, but his broad back walking until Erick disappears.

Don't leave me!

.

.

.

.

“Strike! —Batter out!”

“Nice pitch, Jun!”

“Good throw Sawamura!”

“That's our Ace!”

"The dream battery goes bust! Erick Gonzales retires from professional baseball by unknowing reasons!"

Eijun lets out the air he has been holding in since he prepared his pitch. His catcher gives him the ball back with a soft throw, showing that his pitching has been good and effective. But he receives it reluctantly, even if he's already worked with him and they get along relatively well, his battery doesn't shine as it should.

"Eijun! Eijun! Can you tell us what happened to your partner?"

"Sawamura Eijun! How are you feeling?, have you heard anything from Erick?"

Eijun wonders if after this match, he should apologize.

Because it's not his partner's fault, it's his own. He imagines always pitching for Erick and the sound of his glove, he imagines and chases that same feeling with all the battery partners he's paired with, but it's just not the same. Batteries what form wear out so fast that his coach probably doesn't even know what to do anymore.

"What will be the future of the Yankees now that their star battery no longer exists?"

He’s not a conflictive player, he continues to do his job as a pitcher. Always fulfilling his role in the games.

He doesn’t get it.

Eijun pitches like always. He throws with his being; throws with everything he has despite the stares and constant questions about his performance since Erick is gone. Eijun even has dark circles under his eyes for months now along with anger and sadness that are boiling inside him.

"Let's get one thing straight, Sawamura Eijun is a great pitcher! America should be thankful that he was naturalized and played for us, thanks to him we won the last World Cups! The rate of kids wanting to play baseball went through the roof because of this incredible man!"

"Of course, but now that his partner is gone, his performance plummeted..."

"Ethan, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Looking at his catcher, the number nine is pointed out to him.

Eijun complies.

“Strike!”

“That's all!”

“Two out!”

“We've got your back, Ei!”

"David, this is just my opinion from one coach to another, I won't deny that Sawamura is brilliant, he oozes with talent, but..."

He is well.

"Everyone in the professional scene knows that Eijun, without the right catcher..."

I’m fine.

"It's worthless..."

No matter that his heart has been closed for months now, no matter that his Aibou's calls dwindle with each passing day, and he no longer sounds as lively as he used to. Someday, his calls suddenly where only answered by voicemail.

Maybe it was when Erick's mother and his sister Karla answered his phone that for the first time, baseball seemed to lose its color.

It was no longer fun.

"No one but Erick Gonzales could make him shine..."

“BALL!”

The count is 1-3, sweat trickles down his cheek, and suddenly the mound seems too high. Farther away from the batter and the catcher than it should be. Eijun wipes his sweat with his shoulder cloth as he lets out a sigh. His hands and body shake.

For a moment, he wonders if he has caught a fever because his body feels so hot.

The shouts of his teammates are no longer audible, nor is the noise from the crowd or the fans. It’s just Eijun against the opposing batter and a catcher whose face he no longer recognizes.

Is it his Aibou? Erick? He’s finally back? His treatment work?

It's not him, silly. His mind whispers. Have you already forgotten?

"Sawamura...we are... I'm sorry… we didn't know and I am… I am very sorry that our reporters harassed you like that."

Eijun simply gives her an empty smile.

"It’s okay." He answers politely, even though it's the last thing he wants to do right now.

"I insist, it was not right. Let us compensate for the damage."

For the damage? The damage has already been done.

Anything they want to give him is not going to make up for the pain in his heart.

“FOUL”

The ball is thrown back to him angrily, his pitch was not what the catcher asked for, and so Jonas finally bursts his bubble to remind him that his partner is no longer by his side, and instead, he has to throw to the glove in front of him.

The cleanup does not look happy. The aura he possesses reminds him of a time long ago. His high school days. A boy with a scar on his cheek who could hit home runs like it was nothing.

What was his name?

Nine is called, and Eijun goes back to pitching. The only sound he hears is the bat making contact with his throw.

“You know, Aibou, I'm always watching your games, and I must admit that I'm jealous of the people that catch for you.”

Eijun wants to retort that Erick wouldn't feel that way if he would just let him go to Mexico with him.

“When I'm in rehab, I think about you all the time," Erick admits in a soft tone that Eijun's cell phone certainly doesn't do justice to, "but I don't regret it. Watching kids and teens bat, field, run to the bases, or throw awkwardly is exciting, as if a window had opened in front of me and I could see another world. Being a coach for the new generations is not that bad. It reminds me of myself when I first learned to play, and it's... It's wonderful...”

Judging by his tone, Eijun can imagine that the look on Erick's face is dreamy. Bright and warm.

“Are you still sticking to your master plan of making little catcher demons like you?”

“What do you take me for? Of course I'm sticking to my master plan! You better keep playing in the big leagues so that one of these little devils will catch for you! I promise you, every ball you throw at them will make you remember me.”

That was their last conversation. It was the last time Eijun heard his voice.

He had not felt such deep pain of losing someone since his grandfather died, and he was on the other side of the ocean.

It was not Eijun's fault; it was the fault of the world. It was the fault of the terrible fate that was not enough to break his Aibou's dreams once, but twice.

And the second time was forever.

Eijun didn't care missing the most important game of the season, getting up his team and taking the next flight to Mexico when Karla, Erick's sister, tearfully told him that his Aibou had died in a robbery where everything bad that could have happened, happen.   

“FOUL.”

He doesn't want to play anymore. He desperately wants to get off the mound. He's frustrated that the cleanup is hitting foul after foul and Eijun’s mind is elsewhere. The weight of Erick's locket feels heavier than usual on his chest, almost burning his skin.

I want to leave.

“FOUL!”

“FOUL!”

“FOUL!”

Funerals are quite different, but at the same time familiar in different countries. Minerva, Erick's mother, gives him a small earthenware cup of hot chocolate when the long Spanish sentences are over. Eijun uses all the Spanish he has learned from Erick and the Internet to understand the sentences spoken by everyone in the courtyard of his Aibou family's modest home. Karla is kind to him, telling him when to say certain words or translating the words of other people who also knew his partner.

The food given to everyone is comforting, it feels loving at a time when one should be sad and depressed.

“It's a tradition here," Karla tells him as she sits down next to him and hands him a tamale, "at rosary time it's customary to give food to those who come to pray. As you can see, my stupid brother loved tamales. But I think if he found out that you left your team without explanation to come here, I have no doubt that he would come out of his coffin to drag you back to the United States.”

Eijun smiles slightly. Yes, that would be something Erick would do.

Erick's aunt is also there, but Eijun doesn't have the will to approach her when he has Erick's pendant pressed to his chest, hidden from all eyes. Karla evaluates him with her eyes, analyzing something.

“Eijun," she says as she sits down in her wooden chair, "tell me, you have his pendant, don't you? When he came back and his aunt found out he didn't have it, she almost killed him herself, but he just told us it was in the safest place in the world.”

Eijun nods, slightly embarrassed by these words. Maybe surprised.

She simply looks down at the coffin where Erick is, making a sound as if she has just finished solving a complicated puzzle.

“I see... I think a lot of things make sense now.”

Eijun says nothing. He simply looks at the open coffin, he hasn't had the guts to see Erick's lifeless body. He hasn't had the strength to say goodbye as he should have.

“I don't think I need to say it, but... for my brother, there were only three important things that matters in his life: us, baseball and...”

If there is no silence between them, it is because of people. But he feels vulnerable when Karla looks into his eyes and Eijun has to face that crimson gaze that made his Aibou stand out so much.

“…And you.”

His foot crashes hard into the mound and his arm comes out late, only to receive the same call from the umpire.

“FOUL!”    

Eijun had never felt so frustrated. So angry and unfocused since he left Japan to come to the United States and grow up, he had never let his emotions cloud his mind on the mound since he understood that rebelling too much of himself made him less in the eyes of others.

But now he’s a mess— it's a pressure cooker that has reached its limit when all he can think off is how much he wants to finish the inning and leave.

I want to go, he thinks. Let me go!

The next thing he knows, is the sound of his pitch being hit and a ball traveling over 100 km/h coming straight at his face.

His glove instinctively goes up to catch the ball and hopefully lessen the impact.

Eijun thinks he hears Erick's voice as the world goes black and pain explodes in his head.

.

.

.

There’s warmth on his face and body. He is surrounded by something warm and soft that cuddles him and makes him want to sleep longer, but a voice calls out to him, telling him that breakfast is ready and that if he doesn't come down, it will get cold.

Eijun grunts, he doesn't want to get out of bed and leave the warmth of his blankets, he's tired and now that the high season is over, all he wants to do is sleep some more.

“Eijun," Erick speaks again. Normally he would sound annoyed, but his Aibou has a warmth in his tone that he rarely hears, "Wake up, Eijun.”

“I don't want to..." he replies. His words come out very distorted, like a baby's babbling. Maybe he even answered him in Japanese.

He hears a giggle and soon a warm hand ruffles his hair as if he were a child.

“All right, all right. Our Ace-sama needs to sleep. You've worked hard this season, you deserve it.”

Eijun gives him a sleepy smile. He's sure drool is dripping from the corners of his lips now, but he's not ashamed, his partner has seen more of his embarrassing side than he'd like to admit.

It’s strange to change position from one moment to the next. He is no longer in his bed, but lying between his Aibou's legs, still stroking his hair, as if there were something to fix in his messy hair.

He listens to his companion speak in his native tongue. He may not understand one or two words, but he gets most of it. He has always liked it when Erick speaks his language; his voice is much softer and more comforting when he speaks in Spanish than when he uses English or Japanese.

“You should learn Japanese," he remembered telling him once, "Your pronunciation is good, it wouldn't be hard for you to learn.”

His Aibou just laughed loud. The beginner's Japanese books in his brown hands are gripped tightly, and a faint promise that he will try.

“Maybe, Ei. Anime can help me a lot, right? I've been dreaming of watching Naruto and Bleach without subs,” that was his answer.”

And to his surprise, the Aibou holding him replied.

“If I do, will you take me to your hometown? Your family?”

‘Yes. Yes, I would,' he thinks.

“And what about Seido? Your school? Will you take me there too?”

For a moment, he hesitates. He has precious memories of Seido, but even more the bad ones, the painful ones. The ones that haunt him in his mind and body even after so many years since he left that school.

But in the end, if it's with Erick...

‘Yes, I would take you to meet them.’

Sometimes it scares him how much power his Aibou has over him.

“Do you regret going to Seido? Playing with them?”

‘Maybe,' he says. ‘There are many things that hurt me. Memories that are still in my mind and I can't get them out.’

“Do you want to change them? Those bad memories? Those regrets?”

‘Maybe.' He says. Not so sure this time.

The obvious answer is yes. Who doesn’t want to change their mistakes?

But in the end, those experiences and pains are what made Eijun who he is today. It's what made him decide to leave Japan and try his luck on the other side of the world, to shout to everyone else that he had talent, that he was good at baseball, and that he would use his ability to shut them up.

It was what led him to find his Aibou in a park, a lone person practicing batting late at night with a frighteningly beautiful swing. A ball and a catch that sounded like glory and ended up sealing both of their fates as a battery.

He hears his Aibou chuckle softly. As if he had read his mind.

“Remember what I told you? About living without regrets?” Eijun nods lazily, settling between Erick's legs so he can rest better, "Why don't you fix what you have pending? I promise I'll wait for you. I always will.”

Eijun wants to reply with a question. He doesn't understand.

‘Waiting?’

But before he can open his mouth and say anything, he feels a pain throughout his body, as if he had been relentlessly pushed against the ground and whatever was there was wedging itself into his back.

“Kami-sama! Young man! Are you all right?”

The light blinds him slightly as he opens his eyes. His body hurts all over and some people help him to sit up. Eijun has to take a breath and endure the slight headache he has before thanking in English and looking at those who helped him.

People look at him as if he has an extra head and he looks at them confused, seeing features he wouldn't normally see in people from California.

“Are you a foreigner?”

“Did he speak to us in English?”

“But he looks Japanese... look at his face.”

“Oi! Does anyone speak English? He's a foreigner!”

Wait, wait, wait. Wait a minute.

Are they speaking Japanese?

Soon, a teenager approaches with a flushed face, bending down a bit, the boy asks him with decent English pronunciation if he’s okay.

“I'm fine," he replies in Japanese. His tongue feels slightly strange— years of not speaking the language outside of a few words that occasionally slip out, his reply elicits several sighs of relief from the small crowd around him. The boy seems less nervous now and even offers a hand to help him up.

Eijun notices that he is wearing an aviator jacket and baggy jeans. He looks very American to them, and he is not surprised that they have mistaken him for one.

Wait...

“Oni-san, are you sure you're okay? You look a little...”

“Sick?”

“Yeah… Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

Before answering, Eijun takes a moment to get his bearings. They are in some kind of alleyway with a busy main street. The people around them have Asian features and the surrounding architecture is frighteningly familiar. Then Eijun walks out of the alley, away from the watchful eyes of those who helped him, only to be greeted with announcements and shop names in his native language.

He freezes for a moment. He even carves his eyes, because this should not be possible.

“What the...?”

“Nii-san," the boy calls him back. If he said that he looked bad before, Eijun can assure him that he looks even worse now that he feels even more dizzy and is sure to throw up his food.

But before anything happens, he speaks first.

“Where are we?” he asks, because the place where they are is both familiar and, at the same time, unknown.

The boy gives him a curious look, as if he had asked something stupid, but soon responds cordially.

“We are in Miyagi Prefecture.”

His response is like a bucket of cold water in Eijun’s face.

“M-Miyagi...?”

“Specifically, Sendai, Nii-san.”

“Sendai?!”

This is not good. Not right at all...

Eijun feels the blood stop rushing to his face, which worries the boy as he sees him stagger slightly until another person helps him recharge near a wall.

“He doesn't look good! Call an ambulance!” someone screams.

What is he doing in Sendai? How the hell did he end up in Japan? Eijun is sure that moments ago he was at Petco Park, playing a game to end the season. He even remembers when it was the clean-up turn and how frustrated he was about the fouls until the batter connected with the ball and...

And...

And he hit me. He hit me right in the face.

The fourth batter hit his pitch and Eijun receives the force of a baseball traveling over 100 kilometers per hour on his head.

His stomach feels sick and for a moment, Eijun thinks he's going to vomit.

But he doesn't, because his body is overtaken by a fatigue that comes out of nowhere and forces him to faint. The last thing he remembers is people screaming around him.

For some reason, that feels awfully familiar.

Chapter Text

Eijun has always been told he's an idiot, and for once in his life he can agree with that statement.

Waking up in some random hospital in Sendai was quite an experience. Nurses and doctors surrounded him along with a policeman who interrogated him in the nicest way possible, because of course, Eijun has no papers or identification of any kind.

His "broadly" American dress only makes him look more suspicious until he opens his mouth, and his small-town accent saves his life.

Of course, Eijun is stupid, not for nothing Erick often tended to scold him or say funny things to him.

‘Eijun, neta que te amo, pero a veces me tomas desprevenido de lo zoquete que puedes ser.’*

'Intelligence chases you, but you're faster...'

'Put that squirrel for a brain to work, Eijun!'

If Eijun had a dollar for every time his Aibou had creatively called him dumb, he would be a millionaire by now. His current situation was further proof of that.

Somehow he managed to convince them that he was born in a godforsaken town, the kind you can't find on maps, and escaped so he could live a normal life (his story is courtesy of a horror film he saw some time ago).

He didn't expected to be taken to the mayor's office once the doc gave him the go-ahead to be able to make official documents for him because of his... "protection" status.

“Poor young man," he hears from one of the secretaries as he sits in the waiting room, "the policeman says he ran away from home in the middle of nowhere. He doesn't even have any papers!”

“How terrible his family must have been!," whispers another girl.

Eijun almost wants to defend his family, but of course he cannot. So, he's twice as stupid when he doesn't even think twice before saying his real surname in the register. He's lucky that he realized that and shut his mouth in time when he said his name.

“Sawamura Ei? That's a very nice name! Although it's cute that they called you Ei, it's a very common name for girls, you know?.”

Eijun just laughs nervously as he puts a hand on the back of his neck, cursing his own stupidity, “r-really!? I never saw it that way! Like that’s... that's how my mother named me...”

No problem, he thinks. There are many people who share surnames and he's no exception. Sawamura isn't a unique surname or anything, but the situation definitely made him forget something important.

Eijun could be dense. An idiot as his Aibou like to call him, but he is grateful for this embarrassing situation so he does not succumb to the nerves and anxiety of travelling in the fucking time.

He won't be looking for the fifth leg of the cat or trying to make sense of the elephant in the room when Eijun discovers his wallet and smartphone in his jacket and trouser pockets and instead thank to God for public internet in libraries, only to break out in a cold sweat when he sees the updated date on his smart phone. It’s like a hole in his stomach and the only thought that comes to his mind at that moment is to find his family. But is easier said than done.

But how can I do that?!  

Nagano is a long way from Sendai, his wallet has a dollar amount that can barely afford to rent a room to sleep once and eat twice. On top of that, Eijun doesn't have his old home phone number or his father's number.

And even if I did, what could I tell them?: Hey, I'm your son! I'm from the future! Ta-da!

They'll put him in an asylum before he can explain shit. But maybe he can convince them when they see his resemblance.

The library is comfortingly quiet. While he gets the occasional look from other people because of his clothes and strange phone, the quiet atmosphere helps him to think.

The money he has, converted to yen, was a total equivalent of 20,000 yen. The meals cost about 1,400 yen, but the real problem is...

The train.

To get home, he has to take the train to Saitama Station and from there to Nagano.

But the thing is, if he does the math... the total he News a to spend for this is about 19,000 yen!

Impossible! I'll be out on the street just taking that train! And taking the bus is no better!

It’s discouraging. Eijun almost wants to cry and is sure that he is radiating a depressive aura all over his body, driving away the few people sitting near him.

‘Tontito*,' his Aibou's words come to mind, 'Eijun, don't you think you should at least have a…uhh, a safe card…? Joker card…?’

‘Huh? What do you mean?’

‘You know,’ he says as he sits at the table with his own plate, ‘you only graduated high school, you should get a trade or study for a career online.’

‘Look who's talking! You don't have one either!’

Erick is embarrassed, his face as red as a tomato is amusing to see.

‘At least I have a technical career, Boke! The middle school I went give me one!’

Sighing, Eijun looks at the date on his phone again. He feels depressed and more tired than usual. The word "November" and the number ten along with the innocent year to his right, seem to be mocking him.

You'd think this would be a great opportunity, but Eijun doesn't see it that way. He was content with his life. He was playing professional baseball and had proven to the world that he was the best player in the game, even without his partner by his side.

He doesn't think about the news, media harassment or comments from other professionals, fans and coaches. He doesn't.

Going back in time... being a stranger to everyone, and worse, being stranded in Japan, does not sit well with him. He’s lucky to now have papers that register him as a ‘real’ person.

And even if he doesn't quite remember his strange dream, the weight of Erick's medallion on his chest reminds him that he is alone. That his Aibou is still in his homeland and is most likely a fifteen-year-old boy and not the twenty-three-year-old adult he is used to seeing.

And that thought makes him realize the obvious.

Idiot! I know I'm an idiot, but this...!

If his Aibou is a fifteen-year-old boy, where does that leave Eijun in the equation? He’s here, as an adult.

His younger self doesn't exist... or is there a fifteen-year-old "he" out there? Sure, he assumed that about Erick because... because his Aibou no longer... because he's dead, but...

If there is a fifteen-year-old "he" and by the date he is now...

That means Seido already search him, and his past self already visit them.

At that, an idea flashed through his mind, and he used his phone to formulate his plan.

From Sendai to Tokyo, it costs about 12,000 yen by train, which can be reduced to 4,500 yen by bus and... and....

Could it be that I... Could it be that...?

Can I really change anything?

"Live without regrets, Aibou."

But the voice of reason that usually comes from his Aibou stops him in the middle of his euphoria.

‘Baka! Have you already forgotten? You are twenty-five years old! You go there and then what? Where will you live? Do you think they'll let you stay at the school? You don't have an ID yet! Don't you remember that the bus and train ask you for one?'

And with that, his fate is sealed to stay in Sendai, at least for now.

'Besides, what assures you that if you run into your past self that reality won't collapse or something?'

That thought makes him feel more miserable than he already is.

In the end, Eijun decides to survive in Sendai for a few months until he has all his "official" documents and enough money for a decent rent (which, if he cried about a $350 rent in America when he was younger, he feels the non-existent money in his wallet disappear for the second time when he reads that the cheapest he will be able to get in Tokyo is $450 rent). He goes to the busiest part of the capital and resorts to Internet cafes. They are cheap (3,400 yen or $24 for twenty-four hours) and he was lucky enough to find one that gave free food.

The curry he survives on is more broth than actual curry. There are no vegetables or any hint of meat, but at least with rice, water and soft drinks he can fill his stomach, and the shower and laundry service is around 400 and 800 yen.

The cubicle he rents is very small and it's uncomfortable to sleep in when he's 1.80m tall. Sometimes he can't stand to be there because of how claustrophobic it can be, but if he wants to follow through with his impulsive plan, going near Seido is the best course of action.

Eijun likes to think that thanks to Erick, his mind is not only thinking about baseball. He is very good at languages and various school subjects. So, his first thought was to join an app that offers tutoring in languages and certain subjects.

Of course, English would be the most in demand than Spanish. But since he has no track record, he can't charge much.

And besides...

“Do you regret going to Seido? Playing with them?”

“Would you like to change them? Those bad memories? Those regrets?”

“...why don't you settle what's pending? I promise I'll wait for you…”

"...I always will."

His first day there is exhausting.

It doesn't help that the nights are cold, and he stays awake because his brain thought it was a good idea to do research on his problem.

"Time travel -Wikipedia."

"Is time travel possible? - National Geographic"

"5 consequences of time travel you hadn't thought of!"

"These are the paradoxes of time travel and how we can avoid them!"

Needless to say, Eijun's research gave him nightmares for several nights. Nightmares that he could only alleviate by watching movies that dealt with the same themes, but without fatalistic fates, because he could only watch those before the thought of the consequences sent him into a spiral of anxiety.

Why was he sent back in time? Why him? He was sure that despite all the bad things that had happened, Eijun had never asked God or the universe for a second chance; even when his Aibou died and he had troubling thoughts for a while. He didn't ask for anything, even though Erick left this world in a cruel and undeserved way.

The mistakes he made could not be changed, it was the adversity that shaped him, that made him Sawamura Eijun.

And now that the days have passed and he can think with a cool head, is changing his past really the best thing to do? To change it despite the thousands of warnings out there?

It would be easy to ignore his little version of himself, of Seido, and focus on trying to get back to familiar normalcy. He could get a part-time job, take baseball tryouts for every team in Japan that was affordable and didn't ask too many questions, and then he could go back to the U.S. to play in the MLB and...

'Or you could go to Mexico and find..."

A slap to himself and the slight sting on his cheek is painful enough to dismiss that thought with a big: NO.

Awkwardly, Eijun practically runs away from the cubicle he rents. Somehow he manages to put on his shoes and runs away as if the devil is chasing him.

That’s a dangerous thought.

It's one thing to think about ruining his own future, but someone else's? What if he goes there and ends up making Erick never go to the United States? What if he hates baseball? His Aibou himself said that his love for baseball was even a fluke, no one where Erick lived liked the sport and soccer is way more popular there.

It was a coincidence that one day Erick got lost and ended up near a place where he saw kids playing sports, and just then a ball fell right next to him because of a home run.

What if just being here created a butterfly effect? What if Erick never got lost in this timeline? Or what if that random kid never hit the home run that made his Aibou fall in love with the sport? After all, when you roll a dice, the chances of it coming up with the same result are slim.

Oh no. Eijun feels like he's going to throw up. He really shouldn't have watched all those movies and articles... He's an idiot.

In fact, he's twice the idiot because his rambling made him get lost —he's somewhere unknown and when he left the Internet cafe he didn't even take his cell phone with him!

Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Erick is so right! Intelligence is definitely after me, but I manage to outrun it!—

It's his reflexes and training that keep a ball from hitting him in the face. The event is enough to freeze him for a second and he blinks to look at the innocent little ball rolling a few steps behind him.

“Sorry, Nii-san!” Eijun hears young voices in the distance. Children maybe thirteen years old run towards him with an apologetic look on their faces. Only then, he realizes that he has ended up in some kind of park.

Eijun then picks up the ball and wipes it lightly against his clothes to hand it to the boy who has run towards him. He almost wants to laugh at the sight of him, the poor guy seems to be short of breath.

“It’s ok. You don’t need to apologize kiddo. Nothing happened," he says with a gentle smile, "See? I'm in one piece!”

The boy returns a shy smile as he accepts the ball. Behind him are several children of a similar age holding gloves and bats. Eijun can't help but look at them fondly.

“Honda!” shouts one of them, "Come back!”

The boy Honda responds with a shy call before bowing and thanking him and then running to his friends. Eijun watches them run to a more open part of the park, where Honda stands on a makeshift mound and throws the ball to another boy.

He notices that they don't have a catcher. All the kids like to bat, but none of them want to catch the ball, even though they have gloves. They prefer to go for the ball when the bat they are using doesn't hit it.

Eijun takes small steps toward them, and only when he is close enough for them to notice, he tries to give one of his best smiles.

“Do you need a catcher?”

“Nii-san! You're amazing!”

Actually, Eijun should be ashamed of himself for receiving praise from ten-year-olds, considering how well he has adapted to the attention. Catching them is not a challenge, but he must admit that he has a slight smile on his face when the children fail to hit the balls and sometimes fall out or get out of the imaginary batting zone they have made.

The anxiety he once felt has vanished and been replaced by a more neutral, almost calming feeling as he watches these children play.

Maybe that's how Erick felt when he started coaching kids, he doesn't really know.

Because even when he feels calm, his body feels like it's doing some kind of forced labor. A strange but terribly familiar feeling when he thinks back to his last games of the season, to his strange zombie state when he learned that Erick died.

“Go, Honda-kun! One more strike!”

Perhaps what he enjoys the most, and what helps him ignore the partition in his heart, is how the kids respond to his calls with their own enthusiasm. They mimic his phrases and shout as loudly as he does for every strike or hit they get, even if what they are doing is just a batting simulation.

“Nice pitching!” he says encouragingly when Honda strikes out for the third time. The boy holding his little steel bat pouts but moves to let the next one through. Eijun gently hands the ball back to Honda and returns to his position.

They go on like this for a while, occasionally attracting the attention of other children who take a turn at the bat and then leave. Eijun stays with them until it gets warmer, and the children have to go home for dinner.

Sure, Eijun encourages them to go eat, some of them say with a very bad poker face that they don't need to, but it's enough to remind them that they need to take care of themselves if they want to continue playing.

And also, to his embarrassment, he asks them how to get back to the Internet cafe; interestingly, some of them give him very precise directions.

His little game makes his booth less intimidating, and for once he is encouraged to finally look up Senbatsu on the computer. He has time to decide, the invitational doesn't start until March, and until then he can get to work.

And as always, easier said than done.

Even if the English and Spanish tutoring he provides works, it's not enough to survive well. Eijun may feel that way because he has long been accustomed to relying on his credit card. But the food expense he has made is bigger than it seems.

He likes curry, but he can't continue coexisting with the free curry from the Internet cafe. If he eats any more of it, Eijun feels like he's going to get sick to his stomach and the last thing he wants is to add a medical bill to his wallet.

The days fly by, Eijun spends New Year's Day feeling more miserable than usual and with it an increase in his brain thinking unpleasant thoughts and nightmares the following nights. He doesn't even go to the nearest temple to pray because if in a month he hasn't been able to return to his original timeline, then maybe he never will.

This puts his mind and body in conflict. On one hand, he feels he is in a pit, sinking endlessly. He wants to get out of this place, he wants to scream, he wants to cry. But for some strange reason, all his body can do is shake as if it were sick and feel a strong fear as Erick's necklace becomes heavier and heavier on his chest.

Because that was the first new year he had celebrated without him.

And, yet even though part of him wants to get the stress out and go to a batting center at the very least to see if he can center his thoughts and put together all the broken pieces he now is, another part doesn't want to. Another part just wants to rest and sleep in the miserable cubicle he is cooped up in at night when he finishes tutoring.

Maybe that's why he's reckless and gets himself another job. He finds a nearby mini supermarket, passes their test, and now Eijun is moving boxes and doing inventory from two in the afternoon until ten at night while continuing tutoring in the morning. It's reckless, it overtaxes his body, but the work is the only thing that keeps him from dwelling on his fatalistic thoughts.

Eijun manages to establish this routine until it is unexpectedly broken by the same childrens he played with over a month ago, when they come into the small shop where he works one fine day and ask him to play with them. Apparently, they have been looking for him and were lucky that one of them remembered the time he asked them to help him get back to the Internet cafe.

Eijun didn't have the heart to continue refusing to play when he saw their sad faces. He felt guilty in such a strange way that he didn't care about the obvious and cheap emotional manipulation tactic.

Maybe it was just an excuse, maybe he just wanted to touch a baseball again to at least make sure he hadn't lost the one thing that made him valuable. The kids always visit him on weekdays, and at some point, everyone in the neighborhood and even his boss got used to them.

“Sawamura-kun!” Ms. Kiratawa calls him. Eijun wipes the sweat off his forehead from carrying boxes and stacking them elsewhere before he goes to where she is. The older woman gives him a small smile before she turns to look at several children with big smiles in their eyes and a baseball ball.

“Ei-chan!”

“Play with us! Please!”

Eijun gives them a friendly smile. I already knew he tends to have that effect on people. Even when he does his language tutoring the children and teenagers he teaches sometimes seeks him out at work to ask him questions or talk to him, but Eijun is seriously considering thinking that what these children have with him is an obsession.

Which is... nice. Suppose. 

Of course, Eijun only agrees to be their catcher because he discovered that he doesn't have the courage or the energy to grab the ball and throw it to them to bat.

And that's okay. Playing with them or watching them practice at least makes him feel something, gives Eijun a little spark in his heart enough to appreciate the amateur game and laugh at some funny plays or comical misses they have. No pressure, no expectations. Just fun. Just play.

“Oi, you know I'm working, little punks! Can't you wait for me to at least finish my shift?”

“Nope!” They all respond, getting a good laugh out of him for their timing. The owner just looks at him with a smile and, crossing her arms behind her back, she walks away.

“Ei-kun, why don't you go with them? You can leave early today.”

His words seem to activate the children, who tug at his uniform to force him out of the store while Eijun tries not to step on them by accident. In the end, he sighs and lets himself go; surprised when instead of the park they are attending, they go in another direction.

Oh?

“Ei-chan, guess what! guess what! We've set aside a baseball field!”

“At least until six o'clock," says one of the children.

“Yes! Yes! We have three hours to play!”

“And we have also borrowed equipment!”

“And, and we've gotten more kids who want to play!”

The kids run to the small dugouts in the corners, grabbing aluminum bats and softballs. As they get ready, more kids he's never seen before come onto the field and greet him.

“Are you Sawamura-san?”

“Is he the catcher Honda-kun talks so much about?”

Apparently, these kids had an unspoken agreement to share Eijun between the two teams, where he would be with the Dolphins until the top of the fifth inning and then switch to the Deers in the bottom of the fifth.

Perhaps apart from the shock Eijun feels at being dragged into a children's game, is the sight of the few adults who gather around to watch them play and laugh at him because he is still wearing his work tablecloth and his forehead hair is pinned back with a clip that one of the few girls in the group gave him when he once said he wanted to cut his hair to see better. It must be a curious sight to see a mini supermarket worker with a smaller than him catcher’s outfit and kneeling down to catch balls.

He also has to umpire, but it doesn’t bother him, it’s funny to see how Honda thinks his pitches are strikes, but in reality they were obvious balls.

To tell the truth, Eijun enjoys this game.

He likes to watch the kids run as fast as they can to the bases when they get a hit or a fly. It’s fun to watch the little outfielders get excited when a ball lands right into their glove or, conversely, when the ball falls comically behind them.

When he can, Eijun guides them and when the children use his advice to improve it is as if a weight he doesn’t know he has been carrying on his back seems to lift off.

It’s not suffocating like his last games before time travel. It is simply…

Liberating.

The kids enjoy it more. They don't care if a pitch goes wrong or not. Or if the shortstop missed the ball so they now have bases loaded, or if the batter hasn't made contact with the ball, or if someone does a cartwheel halfway to first.

Eijun makes it clear that he’s not batting, that would not be fair to anyone, but despite the pouting and grimacing he receives, the kids accept his unique condition when they realize that he throws very accurately to the bases to get outs and is very good at avoiding steals.

In the end, the game ends with the Deers winning 3-5. Something to be expected, considering Eijun was with them for the final innings.

The kids happily leave (but not before doing some light cool-down exercises) and Eijun is sitting in a corner to take off his uncomfortable catcher's gear when a person sits down next to him.

Eijun doesn't greet him or anything, judging by the big shadow, he must be an adult.

“Sawamura-san? Right?” says the man. He's a bit stocky and wears glasses. He has a funny mustache that makes his face rather square, and his hair is slicked back.

Eijun nods slowly as he stows the equipment in the dugout and extends a hand to the man to greet him.

“How can I help you, uh...?”

“Masamune," the man says as he sits down next to him, "Sawamura-san, would it be all right if I asked you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you a professional baseball player? Are you a foreigner? You have a funny accent when you speak.”

This simple question makes Eijun choke on his own saliva.

What the hell?!

But before he could say anything, Masamune-san continues, "Sorry if I scared you. It's just that I have a good eye for these things. If you wanted to be subtle, maybe you should have used different tactics as a catcher, but the framing you have when it comes to catching the ball is a hard habit to break, even with kids, don't you think? Even those who played at university baseball level don't have one that good.”

Eijun feels trapped. As if he has committed an unforgivable crime, but he just keeps silent. If Masamune-san thinks his framing is remarkable, he should have seen what his Aibou could do.

“Something like that," he answers quietly. This earned him a look from the man as if he had literally discovered a gold mine.

“Let me introduce myself properly. I'm Masamune Takeru, coach of the Izumi Baseball Club. I know you must think it's crazy to me to be here since the club is in Odawara. I was actually just here on business, but your little game with those kids caught my attention. You know, I work with kids too, I train them.”

Eijun already knows where he wants to lead the conversation.

Even if it looks rude, Eijun stands up and dusts off his uniform. “I'm sorry," he says as seriously as he can, "if you want to recruit me as a coach, I have to decline.”

Perhaps he was expecting some sort of refusal from Masamune, but the man remains calm.

“Won't you even give me a chance to wonder you?”

“Forgive me.”

“I see... young man, if it's not indiscreet. May I ask why you refuse my offer?”

There's nothing wrong with that, is there? Letting off a little steam? Getting loose with someone?

He is unknown, surely his words will stay with that man in the grave. Eijun is a nobody at this time and...

He still doesn't quite know what he wants to do.

“I... I am planning to move to Tokyo," he answers carefully, "I’m looking for a relative of mine who will be attending Seido.

Just by finishing those words, Sawamura feels a shiver all over his body when he sees how the man's glasses shine in complicity along with a smile that does not bode well.

“Sawamura-san," Masamune speaks as if he is committing a misdeed, "How about you and I make a deal?”

Eijun swallows loudly as he listens to the man speak.

What have I gotten myself into?

“How about this? You help me train my kids for their January and February tournaments and games, and I use my contacts to help you move to Tokyo before school starts in April. I'm sure you know that the cheapest rent in Tokyo is 70,000 yen and considering that you currently live in an Internet cafe...”

“WAIT! HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW I LIVE IN AN INTERNET CAFE!” He points at him accusingly, Eijun is almost certain that he is exhaling smoke from his nose because of the anger he feels.

“Sawamura-san, the children he plays with don't know how to keep secrets," the man answers as he pushes back his glasses.

“THOSE ARE NO WAY TO APPROACH SOMEONE!”

“If you accept my offer, I assure you that I can get you an apartment for less than half that rental price and close to Seido so you can visit your family member. Isn’t that a steal?”

“IT IS, BUT...!”

“But...?”

Eijun really suppresses his anger. His face is red from the whole situation.

I REALLY FEEL VERY HUMILIATED!

But in the end, Eijun accepts not because of the money or his chance for a better place to move.

He accepts because training middle school kids might help him to ignore Seido these two months before the invitacional, it will help him not to break his head until he decides what to do.

With this, Eijun must be...

Chapter 2: The worst time traveler

Takeru always had a good nose for opportunities.

That a ten-year-old hit pitches at 80 mph? Signed. He'll do whatever it takes to get that kid on the team. A kid is left-handed? Signed, he could be a future pitcher with great potential down the road.

And luckily for Takeru, he's not wrong most of the time. That's why his team is one of the best in the prefecture. Sure, they make mistakes now and then, and sometimes it costs money to gamble with future talent, but the ability in his players is there, ready to be polished like the gems that they are.

Too bad his son never understood his talent as a recruiter and trainer, preferring to stay in Hokkaido with his mother rather than join him in Sendai to play in greener pastures.

Details, he thinks to himself.

Meeting Sawamura Ei was like an oasis in a desert. You only had to watch him catch the amateur throws of kids to see what a gold mine he was. His stance, the way he catches the ball, the way his arm moves as he returns the ball at the perfect speed for a kid...

The fact that he is ambidextrous, because, although he has only been a catcher for those children, anyone with a good eye will notice how Sawamura-san has a predilection for his left hand when it comes to making certain movements.

The other things should not be enough to assume what Takeru told Sawamura-san. No, of course not. Anyone else would have taken him for crazy or that Sawamura was simply a very good player in high school and university, but what convinced him that Sawamura had played in the big leagues was his framing.

It takes a lot of time and practice to catch pitchers' balls and make them look like strikes in the umpire's eyes just by the way they are received. Framing is an art by itself that every self-respecting catcher has to master and perfect.

And Sawamura-san does it mindlessly even though there isn't even an umpire to charm. That alone speaks to how much the technique is engraved in this young man's body.

Sure, Takeru looked into it before making his offer in the hope of finding something, crumbs of his guess, but he got no results.

Maybe he didn't play in the NPB? He wonders. The kids he talked to told him that Sawamura teaches language classes and is very good at it.

“What languages does he teach?”

The children look at him a little doubtfully, but finally answer.

“Ei-chan teaches English!”

“And Spanish," adds the other.

“Are he a foreigner?”

“Mmm... we don't think so," they both say, "his Japanese is good. Very good.”

These language options narrow down the leagues. It could be the Caribbean League, the LMB or the LMP in winter. Maybe he could even play in the MLB if Takeru decides to be ambitious, maybe he couldn't find it because there is usually a strong tendency to tropicalize the names of Asian people in Western countries (which is not very common nowadays, but Sawamura might have been a rare case).

But Takeru doesn't want to get his hopes up only to be disappointed later. So, he tries to think of Sawamura as just another coach he recruited.

Which is difficult.

Sawamura arrives on the first day with noticeable fatigue. The dark circles under his eyes, which he has had since the first time we met, seem even bigger and more obvious. He looks as if he really doesn't want to be there at all and Takeru allows him to watch the training sessions quietly and without involving him too much as a small token of sympathy. The young man looks relieved at first and stands on the sidelines watching the other coaches do their work.

“Masamune-san... I don't know if this is a good idea," he says, avoiding eye contact, "I've never... I haven't trained children. At most, I've given advice to teenagers.”

“You'll be fine," he replies with a smile, "you taught those kids in the park some good basics, didn't you?”

Sawamura mumbles something apologetic but does not discuss it further.

The only bad thing is that Sawamura-san has a constant depressed aura around him, and his tired eyes don't help him sympathize with the kids. But all it takes is a bad hit and a ball rolling towards him for a child to approach and Sawamura-san to interact with them for the first time.

It turns out that he has a soft spot for the younger kids, and so his job begins, stepping into the shadows to help the younger kids—and with a notorious nervousness—by teaching them a bit of theory (nicely summarized for them to understand) and the proper drills for pitching and batting.

Sawamura-san has an enviable ability to hold their attention. There's something mesmerizing about watching him pitch and bat (effortlessly confirming his theory that he's ambidextrous), and the kids like that Sawamura is very patient with them and never gets angry when he corrects mistakes.

“No, no. You are holding the bat wrong. Your elbow should be lower, and your feet should be firmly in the batter's box. Like this, see?”

“You're holding the ball too tight and that's why your fingers are getting stuck. Try to relax, let's breathe together, you and me. Ready?”

“When you hit the ball, you have to move your whole body, not just your arms. Hip movement is important! The hips!”

Sawamura-san, however, seems to like working more with the kids who are blanked; he teaches them to lose their fear of hitting and catching the ball but for those who already with an idea of what position they want to play he gives basic tips, and to those who are learning the sport he makes sure to instruct them, so they don't feel like they are falling behind.

“To hit," Sawamura says, gaining the attention of all the young children, "it's not enough to just swing. You all need to learn how to see the ball, to visualize it. So, we're going to do a little exercise, okay?

The young man has two balls in his hand marked with a big letter: A and B. Sawamura has the children line up before he continues, "I'm going to throw one of these two balls, and you are going to tell me which one it was. Are you ready?

The children nod impatiently and so it begins.

It's nice to see the children identify the balls. Some get it right the first time, others need several turns in a row to get it right. They do this exercise for six minutes until Sawamura allows them to grab their bats.

“Now, the swing is not easy. You have to lower your hips to where you feel comfortable, but you have to be careful. If your butt is too far back, you can fall, and if your knees are too far out, you will lift your feet and that will throw you off balance.” Sawamura says as he shows the boys the basic batting stance.

Takeru watches as the young man corrects their stance to prevent them from losing their balance or hurting their legs while swinging, and just like before, the ball exercise returns, this time with Sawamura telling them which ball to hit.

It's cute. It's always adorable and cute to see kids take their first steps in baseball.

That's not the deal they made, but Takeru can overlook it when he sees the results in the first few weeks. The new guys are so amazingly consistent that you'd doubt these kids were just learning to play baseball. Sawamura has also done wonders with the kids' stamina by putting them through drills that are fun and not overwhelming.

Over time, the kids at the camp seem to have more confidence in approaching Sawamura as they see how the younger kids love him and interact with him.

And that gives way to what Takeru had hoped for from the beginning: that Sawamura works with the main team.

Sawamura said he didn't know how to work with kids, but the way he treats them and gives them training routines, he wouldn't believe him.

“It's not like you gave me a choice!" Sawamura-san says with a pout as he whistles for the kids to change exercise, "you forced me to go to the library and use the Internet to find out what the hell do! Do you understand that working with children is very different from working with adults? I can't give them all the drills I know! I could ruin their baseball chances before they even get started...”

Takeru puts a hand on Sawamura's shoulders to calm him down. Maybe his rookie coach is very nervous about certain things with the sport or can't communicate very well with those who are already teenagers, but he takes them very seriously.

Although... The same cannot be said for teenagers.

“Is this old man going to be the second trainer?”

“I'M TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD!”

“It looks very American...”

“I WAS BORN AND RAISED HERE!”

“Besides, he has a dumb face... Are you sure he knows how to play baseball?”

“I’M A VERY GOOD PLAYER, THANKS!”

“The newbies said he’s a bit strange...”

“THEY LOVE ME!”

Normally, Takeru would not intervene in such situations. The coaches have different ways of making themselves respected, but Sawamura-san has for some strange reason chosen to be depressed by the insulting comments. Not making any kind of effort to shut them up or defend himself most of the time.

"Excuse me, Coach Sawamura," one of them approaches. Takeru recognizes him easily because the boy has been his golden goose when he managed to convince him to come here and not to leave him in the hands of the Mamiya Club.

Takeru watches the interaction in silence. Sawamura-san looks a bit paler than usual when he addresses the boy, and his usually high voice drops several notes to answer carefully.

“Yes? Do you need something, Yu-? Uh...”

“Yui Kaoru, Sawamura-kun," he tells him the boy's name, earning an appreciative look from the boy.

“Oh, Yui-shonen.”

Most of the team ignores the interaction between the two, more focused on the exercise imposed to them to increase their stamina. This is Yui Kaoru's senior year and Takeru expects big things from him by the time The Little League World Series begins in August.

It is a pity, though, that he’s very small.

He only hopes that, by then, his boys will have learned enough from Sawamura-san before he moves to Tokyo to look for his relative. Even if the time period is very short.

“Excuse me, I heard from the younger boys that you are a very good catcher," says the boy with seriousness and a bright look in his eyes, "I wanted to know if you could give me some advice on how to improve my catching and decision making.”

Sawamura looks surprised at first, frozen if Takeru has any say, but soon blinks and his face takes on more of a nostalgic, almost sad tone. Yui is very perceptive, and he can see that the boy is about to apologize but Sawamura speaks first.

“Do you... want me to give you some advices?”

“Hai!”

“Why? Your other teammates don't like me at all, and you have Masemune-san at your disposal as other coachs…

Young Yui is unfazed by this negative behavior.

“I think if Takeru-sensei put you here with us, it's because we can learn a lot from you! I've seen you train the rookies, putting them through exercises to improve their center of gravity and correct their stances before they form habits, and it's no different with us, is it? I think you know a lot more about the game than you let on.”

Takeru smiles brightly.

So, he realized it too...

Sawamura seems to think about it for a few moments before he looks back to the children who are still training.

For a few moments, he says nothing, which is uncomfortable for the boy who seems to be sweating coldly, but soon, Sawamura turns to him with a slight smile.

“Show me what you got first and we'll work from there, okay?”

The kids were not expecting an Intersquad so soon. Normally they would be held in February to check the batting lineup and make changes for the upcoming practice games with other teams in Sendai and get ready for the first tournament.

However, there’s a clear difference and that is Sawamura Ei.

Sawamura practically dared the seniors to play against him and some of the juniors. Of course, the seniors laughed and scoffed at the idea at first. But when they saw Sawamura bring in the juniors and give them positions on the field, they hesitated for a second.

Takeru sees how one of those children that Sawamura chooses is Yui, who looks as surprised as the others for not being on the other side, but quickly wakes up to put on his equipment and wait on the mound for his pitcher. Takeru can't help but smile as Sawamura takes the mound and instigates the older kids to face him and soon, he realizes that this will be the way Sawamura will earn the respect of the rest.

Sawamura-san will let baseball speak for him.

“So, Yui-kun,” Coach Sawamura says in a soft tone, discordant when his eyes don't look very cheerful, "right now we are public enemy number one here. I hope you can handle the pressure.

Kaoru nods firmly. The seniors look really annoyed, but he's been in worse situations in tournaments before. Besides...

This is my opportunity.

The other kids will say that Coach Sawamura doesn't know what he's doing, that he's boring and always makes them through warm-up and cool-down exercises for quite some time when they should be hitting and pitching, but not Kaoru. He has always focused on improving and filling holes in the team, always letting his research skills and constant practice speak for him on the diamond.

So, when the new coach arrived and Kaoru watched him for a while, he was surprised to see several stretching techniques that were appropriate for him. Sawamura observed the players' habits and corrected them. He also stabilized the forms of the pitchers and the correct use of the bat, which coaches of younger kids often don't bother to correct.

Coach Sawamura knows more than he lets on, and Kaoru wants to help him prove it. He knows what it feels like to be underestimated by others.

“Practice games against other clubs are scarier!”

His words cause the trainer to be silent for a moment before forming a slight smile.

“That's the spirit. So, let's do our best.”

Kaoru nods, and soon, uses his mitt to partially cover his mouth, anxious to ask”, Co-trainer, excuse me. What kind of pitches do you have?”

The coach's smile turns rather sinister for a few seconds before returning to a normal one.

“Let's just use fastballs for now. I have excellent control, so you can ask for the ball wherever you want, I assure you it will always end up in your mitt.”

Kaoru doesn't even have time to answer when Sawamura-san sends him home with a light pat on the shoulder. His last sentence sounded so confident and sure that I wouldn't have doubted his words if it weren't for his tired eyes. Coach Masamune was already waiting for him at the plate and gave him a smile.

Kaoru warms up with Sawamura-san for a few minutes before the co-coach gets the ball and Coach Masamune announces the start of the game.

The first batter is Sosuke, who enters the batter's box with a confident smile. He’s fast and likes to steal bases. He also has a good contact percentage and hits very well to left field, so he should not be underestimated. Kaoru places his mitt to call for a fastball in the lower right corner.

Whatever he was expecting from Sawamura-san's pitch, it wasn't what he caught.

The co-trainer's form is bizarre. Kaoru can't even see his left arm completely before the ball flies out and from one moment to the next, with a great roar, he catches the ball with strength and faith.

BAM!

“STRIKE ONE!”

His body trembles, though he doesn't know if it's from terror or excitement. He can almost see smoke coming out of his mitt and the entire field has been silenced. Sawamura has a neutral expression as he raises his glove to ask for the ball back.

What...? What was that?

Kaoru has to snap out of his reverie as he returns the ball, with a burning sensation, pain in his palm and a bad feeling. Sosuke is no better, looking so nervous that his good grip on the bat weakens.

“Oi, oi... What was that?”

“How much was that ball going for?”

“What the hell…”

“That... that was over 150 km/h! —Did you hear the sound that came out of the mitt?”

Most surprisingly, the newies don't look impressed. Instead, they are excited and happy, as if they don't even care about the pressure of playing against the club's regular players.

“Sensei! The ball roar!”

“Nice pitch, sensei!”

Kaoru sinks down again and this time, calls for the ball in the upper right corner, another inside pitch to take advantage of Sosuke's nervousness. Again, his body tenses and he even close his eyes for a moment as the ball lands hard in his mitt.

BAM!

“STRIKE TWO!”

It's terrifying and beautiful. Kaoru is afraid of the ball as well he has respect and excitement. He’s fully aware that he only caught it because, as Sawamura-san said, the ball lands right where his mitt is. “Nice pitch!” he shouts as he throws the ball back.

This time Sawamura-san gives him a friendly smile, as if his presence on the mound does not put any pressure on Kaoru, even though they are on the same team.

Sosuke is very tense, clearly afraid of the pitches of the co-coach and has positioned himself quite far back in the batter's box with a rigid posture. The two inside pitches seem to have influenced him with the belief that he will be hit, even though Sawamura-san has pitched cleanly to the corners.

Kaoru decides that the third pitch will be an outside pitch. The batter is too far in the box, and it will be difficult for him to hit the ball. Sawamura-san nods and this time Kaoru admires the way the ball comes out late because of the coach's unique form. Sosuke swings his bat, but there’s a long distance between the ball and the bat.

“STRIKE OUT!”

The next two outs come the same way. None of the main team members can hit Sawamura's pitches, and if by some miracle they do, they end up being fouled or, at worst, right into the gloves of the infield defenders.

This is a blow to the senior team's pride, as they lose to kids who were playing very poorly a few weeks ago. It also doesn't help that Coach Masamune allowed the co-coach to bat. If Sawamura-san had a suffocating presence on the mound, as a fourth batter he was just plain scary.

How can you face a guy who hits a home run in every turn at bat as if he was breathing?

The game ends in a mocking defeat for the top team on the mercy rule. With the score ending at 13-0. 

But for some reason, every pitch Sawamura-san made after the second inning felt weird in a way Kaoru couldn’t figure out which, along with his dark circles under his eyes, appeared to be bad. But Kaoru didn't dare to call a timeout when the co-coach was pitching without any problem.

Sawamura-san was not kidding when he said he would not be lenient. His presence, the pressure he put on the other guys, was enough to make the main team make mistake after mistake. Kaoru would have felt sorry for them, except that even when he was on the same team as co-trainer Sawamura, he would get so nervous that he would fail to catch some balls even though they were perfectly thrown.

“Not bad," Kaoru heard Sawamura-san say to the coach, "but with so much arrogance from them in the first inning, I expected more.”

“I guess you're in a better mood, now the kids will respect you.”

But Kaoru only watches as the co-trainer remains silent while looking at the glove he holds. He doesn't look happy; he doesn't show any particular emotion and his eyes...

His eyes are uncomfortable, as if they are missing something Kaoru cannot yet understand. As if...

As if they were dead.

Sawamura-san mumbles something that only the trainer hears. Whatever he said, it seems to worry Masamune Sensei a bit.

“Yui-shonen!” Sawamura-san calls his name, and Kaoru jumps slightly in surprise at being called. It is enough to make eye contact with him to Sawamura-san approach and speak.

“I will teach you on one condition," he says as he watches the other boys cool down. Kaoru can't help but feel confused because no coach has ever said something like that to him before.

Is it because of something on me? Doesn’t he believe in me?

But as soon as Sawamura-san tells him what the condition is, Kaoru agrees.

Eijun must be the unluckiest person on the planet. No, in his special case he might be the worst time traveler ever.

Seeing Yui Kaoru on the same team he agreed to coach (almost against his will) seemed to be just another joke of fate.

What was that saying? "All roads lead to Rome" seemed to be true in his case, but instead of Rome, it's Seido.

Seeing Yui-shonen at the training almost gave him a heart attack, it made him nervous and tense because all the information about time travel he had read went to his head at once and he feared the worst.

A butterfly effect! My mere presence in the past caused a butterfly effect!

Eijun was never that close to Yui in his two years at Seido, he worked with him and was a good catcher with a great bat who managed to earn his position as second hitter when Eijun was in his third year and later, he occupied the cleanup position when Eijun graduated.

Seeing him in his senior year of middle school would have been a fun experience except that Eijun was more focused on not spilling his guts over his bad thoughts about the significance of having Yui by his side.

Eijun didn't want to do anything, he wanted to go unnoticed as much as he could and yet the universe gave him a big 'fuck you' in the worst possible way, grabbing Eijun's weak and brittle plan to break it into a thousand pieces and send him back into his spiral of misery to overthink the consequences of interacting with Yui before his time.

'But aren't you already screwing up lives by the simple fact that you're here? Don't you think that the simple fact that you agreed to train these children has already changed the future they had before? Isn't the fact that Yui is here proof enough that you've altered the universe?'

He probably would have overthought more if not for Masamune's intervention. Intervention that ended in a disastrous match where he took it out on fifteen- and fourteen-year-olds by shattering their egos solely with fastballs because he's an adult with no damn self-control.

And where did that end? In the children looking at it as if it were the second coming of Christ along with a decision made in the heat of the moment to accept Yui's personal request.

And what did he do to fix it?

Nothing.

Instead, he added fuel to the fire and made it an absurd condition that Yui do him a favor sometime during Eijun's time as coach at the club. He didn't think with his head and got carried away, as if he had the right to intervene in Yui's future.

What kind of condition is that?! No! What's more! Why the hell did Yui-shonen accept that just like that?! Doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation?!

Eijun decides to burn off his frustration and idiocy the next day by deciding to run alongside the kids, (unintentionally) imposing a pace that will kill them before they even start practicing and earning them the horrible nickname of Turbo Grandma.

“DO YOU THINK I'M A YOKAI?!”

When everyone nods, Eijun believes he has lost what little dignity he had left.

"AT LEAST IT SHOULD BE A NICKNAME THAT STICKS! I'M NOT PARTICAULARLY FAST!"

Of course, after seeing how this experience and the constant running Eijun makes them do for days on end —for training and revenge, has done wonders for everyone's stamina, and they come out of the training matches without sweating like pigs, they apologize to Eijun.

Unfortunately, the nickname is not going away, but it is now used more as a form of humor to embarrass other teams.

“Tabo baba...?”

“Like that 100 kiro baba?”

At least Eijun can enjoy his reactions when the other teams hear the brats call him that.

“You've really improved your catching, Yui-shonen," Eijun tells him as he places the last ball in the pitching machine at a speed of 134 km/h. Yui receives the throw cleanly.

Eijun has worked on covering up the holes Yui has in his game as the ultimate apology he can give him for intervening in his past. Per se, he doesn't quite remember what school or club Yui went to in his original middle school days, but since he's screwed up, it's the least Eijun can do.

He tries not to think that now, the possibility that his Aibou's fate has changed is bigger than ever.

“Thank you, Coach. Your exercises and simulations have helped me a lot and I really feel fortunate to be able to catch your throws.”

So far, Eijun has only thrown him fastballs and nothing else as he wanted to first get Yui used to 'live' pitches between 120 and 130 km/h. The first time he caught his pitches at 150 in the intersquad was because Yui decided where they would go and Eijun aimed accurately, but in these workouts, he is the one who decides where the ball will go.

It only took one throw at that terrible speed for Yui to understand that he is not prepared to catch such a powerful throw blindly.

“That's all for today," he says as he turns off the machine, "take a shower and if you still have energy we can analyze the practice match against Usagi.”

Yui practically disappears and Eijun lets out a sigh that he didn't know he was holding back.

He wonders if this is the feeling his Aibou told him about in his last call. Because if so...

No, it is not.

His Aibou had described teaching as a pleasure, something beautiful, something exciting.

But Eijun doesn't feel that way. He feels tired and sometimes even... frustrated, and he doesn't know why.

Luckily Yui comes back, so Eijun avoids think about it. They sit in the dugout while Eijun points to the scorebook and analyzes the results.

“For example... here. In the fifth inning. I want you to tell me the reasons of your pitch calling.”

Yui looks a little uncomfortable because she knows exactly why Eijun chose that particular inning.

“Well, Shoto-kun can throw fastballs and curveballs. He looked good until the fifth inning, but ...”

“He started to give walks.”

“Um,” Yui states, “we were facing the ninth batter, but the hit he gave to Shoto-kun seemed to affect him, and when the lineup started again, I decided to focus his pitches on strikes, so I asked him to pitch to center so Shoto-kun's throws would have more margin of error in their accuracy.”

“But that didn't work either, did it?”

“Yeah... they started to figure out the pitch sequence with ease and Shoto-kun got more nervous, but when I called a time-out to talk to him and calm him down... it was too late. Coach Masamune replace us with Katsuki and Toshiya when we left the diamond full and zero outs.”

Eijun sees the frustration in Yui's face, as he seems to be disappointed in himself, and surely in his mind he is replaying this entry endlessly with thousands of different scenarios and hundreds of decisions he could have made.

“Don't feel bad, Yui-shonen," he says carefully, considering his words, "it's a valuable experience because you learn from it. Mistakes are inevitable, but that’s what make us better.”

The smile he gives to him is not the best, considering that Eijun's physical and mental exhaustion is already catching up with him, but it is enough to lift Yui's spirits.

“As you say, Shoto-kun only has fastballs and curveballs so far, but I'm sure you've noticed another peculiarity of his throws, haven't you?”

Yui seems to think about it for a few seconds. He even closes his eyes to better visualize all the times Shoto thrown at his mitt. In the end, the boy seems to realize it with a slight surprise.

“S-Shoto-kun doesn't throw well outside!”

“Ding! Right! Although it would be more correct to say that Shoto-kun doesn't know how to do it. Not having that possibility, the sequence of throws you made for him was altered and for obvious reasons, read by the opposing team. But you are also to blame, Yui. Asking for pitches in the middle zone isn't bad, it's a good strategy when you're behind in the count, like 3-0, 2-0 or even 3-1. But Shoto-kun was shaky, his pitches drifted away from the strike zone, and he almost hit someone with the ball. At the time when his pitches became erratic, you should have called a timeout to try to calm him down, and it was also a good move to have him throw only fastballs and not his curveball.”

“What if it didn't work?” Yui asks worriedly, "What if, despite talking to him, he had stayed the same?”

“Well, then you have two choices Yui-shonen.”

His response does not seem to be something Yui, who looks at him in confusion, was expecting.

“Or you signal the coach to take your pitcher out... Or you can force the pitcher to put his feet on the ground," at Yui's startled look at what he's imagining, Eijun quickly corrects himself with light mockery, "not the way you think. Don't be afraid to take a timeout, even if it's after one pitch. When you go to talk to your pitcher, try to remind him that he's not alone. That he doesn’t need to be afraid to pitch for contact, that he needs to have faith in his ability. If you see that he's losing his form, that he's throwing abnormally, that his velocity has changed, or that he looks desperate, tell him that. That usually helps them get back in the game. Talking to them isn't just giving them words of encouragement, it's analyzing what's causing them to spacing out and trying to fix it."

Eijun has a nostalgic smile on his face. It is almost inevitable that his own words bring back distant memories. Memories of when he was given the opportunity to play for a small team in the United States, but not the way he thought. Memories of when Erick saw him playing catcher and the first thing he did was scold him and then spend weeks with him learning theory and decision making.

Something he surely would have had a hard time with if Miyuki hadn't taught him the hard part in his second year of high school...

Only to find out later that it's not just a catcher's thing, but that all the great pitchers know it.

Yui looks more animated. There is a spark in his eyes and determination burns in his small body. For the first time since joining the club, Eijun feels strangely light, his fears and worries about his actions diminished for a moment.

Unfortunately, that moment of peace doesn't last long. Not when baseball games become more notorious and the whole country whispers the words "Senbatsu."

He feels more and more locked in, with the date on his phone burning a hole in his brain as the day comes when his past self has finally gone to Seido; causing his brain along with the few neurons he has to somehow be in a constant state of alert.

Eijun can't sleep well, he doesn't feel comfortable at the baseball club's training and postponed several sessions with Yui when he realized that her attitude was getting quite hurtful. He may have stopped tutoring language lessons, but he still goes to work at the mini supermarket in a different shift, because even though Masamune pays him well, he's not gullible enough to believe that everything he offers is real.

The small piggy bank he bought to save money slowly fills up, as his mind and body constantly remind him that he has a limit when the Senbatsu greet the country with force.

And to his surprise...

He feels no excitement at all.

In the mini supermarket they have a heavy TV that broadcasts the games when it's Eijun's shift, but, although he tries to watch it, his mind doesn't pay attention to the games or feel the excitement of the crowd when hits, base steals or even the first home run of the tournament are given.

Several customers even mention this to him. They ask him: why is he not excited? Why doesn’t he support a particular team? Why is he not interested?

And Eijun doesn't know how to answer them.

Because the first sentence that comes to his mind when they ask these questions is...

“It's not funny.”

It is no longer fun to watch.

Nor play it.

If it's no fun anymore, then why are you still working as a donkey? says the annoying voice.

Because I want to leave that Internet cafe.

So why do you keep watching TV? Why do you long at night to touch a ball? Throw it? Catch it? Why do you agree to play with the kids if you're no longer interested? Why do you keep working at the Izumi club?

Because it is more depressing to stand around doing nothing...

“Sawamura-kun," the owner of the place suddenly speaks to him. Eijun would have jumped in fear at that, but he has gotten so used to granny always doing that with everyone that it feels great not to feel his heart freeze for once. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I'm fine, Mrs. Kiratawa," he answers smiling, but something tells him that she doesn't believe his words, "it's just... I've just been working a lot lately.”

“Ho, right. You're a hard-working young man," she says with kindness in her voice, "You've been doing your job well, Sawamura-kun. Tell me, why don't you take a break tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure! Tomorrow Seido plays against Ichidai in the semi-final. Why don't you take the day off and go watch them play?”

“B-but...”

“Come on! You're a good boy. Having a day off won't kill you.”

But inside, Eijun was just thinking....

Why see Seido specifically?

Perhaps, it was the universe's way of helping him decide.

Watching the game Eijun missed when he was younger is no different than watching others. Except that the one he missed in his youth was in the quarterfinals, not the second semifinal like this one.

Another butterfly effect.

Where once Eijun would have screamed in amazement at the sight of a three-run home run, now he simply looks at it with a critical eye and the experience of an MLB player of nearly six years.

Watching his former senpais play is...

Disappointing?

“SAFE!”

“Oh! The first batter has very fast legs, Sawamura-san!”

Eijun was not ready to face Seido. So, to keep his feet on the ground and not run away like a coward, he decided to use the favor Yui owed him for training him to keep his cool in the game.

The boy is sitting next to him, clearly excited as everyone else in the stadium about the play.

Kuramochi's steal is successful, the stands are excited to see the high level of Seido's players, but Eijun can see it well now, he’s not blinded by the excitement of watching them or the adrenaline of the game. Every time they pass batting, pitching and fielding, he notices the little mistakes they make and tells Yui about them, who now concentrates on analyzing the plays.

For the most part, his senpai try to play as cleanly as possible, they have good techniques and the necessary stamina. Sawamura already knew their weaknesses when he was with them, of course tainted by their admiration and high level of play, but from the stands and with a sharper and more experienced mind...

The last out is called after Yuuki's turn with a 2 RBI and it's Seido's turn to defend. Tanba's figure on the mound is only threatening for a few seconds before Eijun notices that he has serious problems with Miyuki.

That's the first nail in the coffin. The beginning of the snowball and so he asks Yui to watch the battery closely.

Despite the advantage Seido got for Tanba, he does not seem to relax. From the way his body moves, almost tense and very cautious in certain areas, Eijun can assume that he’s returning from an injury.  

His lack of communication with Miyuki seems to get worse and as Eijun remembers, Tanba's mentality falters when he gets the first hit.

Second mistake. The snowball has been launched and is now rolling downhill, collecting as much snow as possible.

Tanba's mood leads to a shaky situation for Seido. First and second have a runner against the fourth batter thanks to two walks. Tanba prepares to pitch after denying two calls from Miyuki and the result is a weak pitch that ends in a grounder to center.

Ichidai knows that Tanba is falling apart and that hit and run was the final push they needed.

Third mistake. Yuuki hesitates for a few seconds where to throw until Miyuki tells him. But it's too late. Ichidai comes home and now third and second are occupied. Tension reigns in the dugout, an ice that can hardly be broken.

His hands clench into a fist. The anger inside him that was previously muted resurfaces like poison. Yui also looks annoyed, but not for the same reasons as him.

Again, Eijun sees the difference between the numbers. The difference between the Ace and the reliever.

Where Eijun would have been removed in a similar situation, the Ace has a huge vote of confidence.

His hands tingle. Even if he doesn't know the outcome of the game because of his time-travel status, the atmosphere, Tanba and Miyuki's attitude, the little confidence they have in each other as a barrer y, and Ace's self-destruction on the mound speak of the other fate this game could have had, and maybe it will happen because of Eijun.

“That's how Shoto-kun and I looked like, Sawamura-san?” Yui says in a lower voice. His gaze never left Tanba and Miyuki who are in another timeout.

“Not at all,” Eijun answer, carefully choising his words, “The pitcher Tanba has been denying his catcher's calls. He’s destroying himself on the mound even though Miyuki has already talked to him three times.”

“But then... that means that Shoto-kun could have ended the same way, right? He looked exactly like Seido's pitcher...”

Eijun just shakes his head, "It wouldn't have been the same, do you know why?”

Yui shakes his head.

“Because Shoto-kun completely trusts in you… and you trust him. On the other hand, Seido... it's clear that they don't get along. They don't trust each other.”

Eijun did not notice that the last part of his sentence was said in a whisper.

An opportunity arises. Miyuki manages to change the mood by throwing with speed and accuracy to get an pick-off, preventing a steal and end Seido's defensive turn.

Voices cheer, Seido's name is called out by the audience. A ray of hope.

But Eijun knows the truth. The batting lineup is weak because of the inevitable changes caused by the retirement of the seniors. All this culminates in Tanba not being able to recover from his self-destruction on the mound until Katoka takes him out to put Kawakami in.

It's late. Too late.

Seido loses to Ichidai 13-15 in a disappointing match.

“What a shame..." Yui says quietly, "they had started so well.”

”Sadly, that’s how baseball works, Yui-shonen.”

The end of the game leaves Eijun with an uncomfortable feeling along with a thought he doesn't want to acknowledge. The match, his arrival, the fact that he couldn't feel the excitement of the game...

It all makes him feel like it wasn't worth coming.

And that depresses him a lot. He shouldn't have such thoughts; he shouldn't belittle his former senpai like that. Maybe he is still bitter about the loss of his former life. He wanted to continue to exceed everyone's expectations in his time.

To continue Erick's dream. To continue playing in the big leagues for him.

Eijun had not asked for any of this. He did not ask for a second chance; he did not ask to change his past.

If he had had a choice, he would have asked to return days before Erick got on that plane and would have accompanied him despite all his Aibou's refusals. Eijun would have followed him even if Erick had gone to the ends of the earth to train future baseball demons.

“Let's go, Yui-shonen.”

The boy nods as he gives his opinion of the game and the things he noticed in the play of both teams.

They leave early to avoid meeting Seido's team and in the station, he says goodbye to Yui with a light ruffle of his hair, and when Eijun's train arrives, all he can think is about Seido's mistakes from the game and what he would have done instead. He thinks about how one of the possible reasons for Tanba's poor performance is Chris' own absence.

In the past, Eijun would have found it difficult to empathize, it was unthinkable to him that your performance depended so much on one person.

But now, Eijun understands what Tanba is going through. He went through it with Miyuki, with Okumura and to a lesser extent with Yui. He also experienced it with the catchers of various professional teams in America, and now with Erick —although they were all situations as different as oil and water.

His return to Sendai was exhausting. Eijun was dead to the rest of the world when his head hit the uncomfortable pillow in his cubicle.

Chapter Text

“Ah... So, could you explain me again what we are doing here?”

Eijun knows a little, at least what the movies have shown him, but he's wise enough to know not to trust them entirely about this sort of thing.

He’s at Erick's house and whenever he comes to visit, the desire to leave his small apartment grows stronger, especially these days, where Eijun cannot stand the silence of the place where he lives and be left alone with his thoughts after two weeks since his father's last call.

Erick laughs lightly as they move boxes adorned with colored paper that has been chopped up to have drawings inside with some sort of strange magic. If Eijun had tried to do something like that, the paper would have torn.

Heck, even at making origami he was pretty bad at it.

“We are making an altar, para los muertos.”*

“M-muertos?!* W-who died?!”

Maybe it's his mispronunciation of the word that makes Erick laugh even harder.

“My stomach! —I-I can’t!”

“Don't laugh!”

“I'm trying! I'm really trying...!” Clearly Erick isn't trying, he keeps laughing at the top of his lungs like a hyena while clutching his stomach as if his guts are going to burst out while light tears stream into his eyes. “Give me a minute...! I can't!”

Eijun is red-faced, embarrassed and angry at the same time. In the end, he decides to ignore Erick and continue stacking the boxes as his friend said. In fact, when he finishes arranging the boxes on the table, it vaguely reminds him of the shape of a pyramid.

Erick wipes tears from his eyes as he tries not to laugh.

“Okay, okay. See those orange flowers over there?” He says pointing to a corner, "bring them over here.”

“I am not a dog!”

“You said you would help me, Boke! So, bring the flowers here, you'll like what we're going to do.”

Eijun sticks his tongue out at him, but in the end he complies. The flowers are beautiful, curious. I have never seen this kind of thing in Nagano or Tokyo. They have quite a few petals and their orange color is pleasing to the eye. The scent they give off is pleasant to your nose.

There are also other colored flowers... pink? Purple? A combination of both? They are even stranger, as if he is touching velvet and the shape of the petals is wavy, very different from the long petals he is used to and somehow, strangely reminds him of a brain.

Erick has bought many, too many in his opinion, but as he brings them to the table—which his Aibou already arranged—placing the colored cut-up papers on many sides, on top of the boxes they have moved, and some even sticking to the ceiling.

Eijun leaves the flowers at the foot of the table as he watches his friend take candles from a bag and place them on the table.

“Come, Eijun, let's crumble some flowers.”

He helps him separate the petals from the stems and they both fill the table and the boxes with orange. Some of the orange flowers don’t tear apart, leaving the whole flower on the edge of the table. The brain-shaped flower is also left whole and Eijun takes care of placing it in different parts.

Erick leaves some spaces and Eijun respects them. It is only when they have finished decorating with the flowers that his curiosity finally gets the better of him. He wants to know if what they are doing is what he thinks it is, but more than that, he wants to know what these strange flowers are called.

But Erick is Erick. This man reads him like the back of his hand.

“This flower is called cempasúchil," he says amusedly, "and this other one, the one that looks like a brain, we call it terciopelo.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you're not some kind of Yokai! How can you read my mind?!”

“HA! Ya know, its catcher's stuff, you should know that! You play that position too!

“I'm still not as good as you!” Eijun feels his face blush again, he's sure he has an amused expression on his face and mumbles through his teeth: “But yes... they're pretty. Very pretty.”

Soon he sees Erick walks over to one of his shelves and grabs some photos. Eijun moves slightly away from the ornate table and watches closely as his friend places several photos in the spaces he has vacated. In one, he sees two children on a bicycle, in another, two grandparents sitting together. In another, he sees a young boy, perhaps fifteen to sixteen years old, sitting on a metal frame.

When Erick finishes placing them, he stands still for a few moments. Eijun sees his eyes take on a strange glow, different from when he is excited, different from when he is happy, different from when he is sad.

His friend grabs the bag of candles and gives Eijun some to place. Erick doesn't seem to place them anywhere in particular, but Eijun places some near the photographs.

Like the flowers, some of the candles are colored, others are shaped like some strange bread and are scented. Others are white, with nothing special about them.

There are more bags with more things. Some have white, slightly shiny skulls on them. Others have candy, which Erick grabs and scatters all over the table. Another bag has bread that smells really good, which he puts on little plates and leaves near the photos.

At one point, Erick even went into his kitchen to get glasses of water and cans of soda.

The ofrenda gradually fills with more color. The candles are lit, the light from them illuminates things in a way that to Eijun looks supernatural.

And once again, Erick stands still to admire the ofrenda. His crimson eyes have that strange gleam in them again.

Nostalgia. Eijun thinks, finally understanding what it is.

“Do you want to place it in the ofrenda?”

He was so focused on looking at Erick's face that he jumped like a scaredy cat when he heard the question. For a few seconds he hisses at him, earning an amused snort. When the information finally reaches his brain, Eijun can't help but sound nervous.

“Can I... Does this Sawamura Eijun really have the honor of putting his Tairo in this ofrenda? Is it okay for this Sawamura Eijun to do so?”

“Qué...?* What's with that old-fashioned way of talking, Ei? “His Aibou sounds amused, almost on the verge of wanting to die of laughter again, “Is your strange tick back?”

“Something like that, Roju!”

“I'm not a military anymore, Ei!”

It took Erick a while to stop laughing and wipe the small tears from his eyes before he spoke again. “Of course you can! Anyone can make an altar if they want... The ofrenda is to honor and remember your loved ones, to honor those who are no longer with us," he says quietly, "to make it in the hope of seeing them once more... the flowers are for that, to guide them to the ofrenda; the papel picado is to get their attention. The food and drinks are for them to taste them and recover energy for their trip back to the afterlife... some say that they steal the essence of the food and that's why when you eat it, it tastes anything at all.”

“Have you... Has this happened to you? Are they really coming back?”

In Japan, it would be terrible for the dead to come back, and there are many stories about ghosts staying around because of grudges and anger, so to think that the souls of people who are no longer here would just come back like that?

“When I was younger, I saw the candlelight move as well as the papel picado, my mother said that, if that happened, it means that they are already here with us. But I never dared to eat the food from the ofrenda. I was afraid because it decomposed faster than usual, and my brother complained that the fruits have no flavor at all,” Erick's voice has a soft and amused tone. One full of nostalgia, “What do you say about find it out for me? My computer is upstairs, you can print out any pictures you want.”

Eijun nods. He understands the tradition in a way—especially the concept of the altar—they do the same thing in his country, although in a slightly different way.

Turning on the computer and plugging in his phone is easy when Erick has hundreds of cables lying around, what's hard is finding a suitable photo of his Ji-chan.

That old man! It was always hard to take pictures of him, either they came out blurry because Eitoku moved deliberately to look bad, or you can only see half of his face on some of them because he put his big hand to cover half of the camera.

Eijun spends almost half an hour looking for a good photo until he stumbles upon one in particular.

He can't help but look at it closely because his parents are there. The memory of the day he boarded the plane that would take him to America for the first time comes back to him.

“Mom, I'll be fine, I promise," Eijun tries to soothe her mother who seems on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Her grandfather also tries to soothe her, but by this point, it is no longer possible to stop her from crying.

“I'm so sorry! It's just...! It's just that you left the nest so quickly again!”

Nest? What am I, a bird?

“I-I mean, look at you! You've only been back from Seido for a few months and you're already leaving!”

If his mother keeps crying like this, she will make a river of tears at the airport. Eijun then does what he knows best to calm her down. He hugs her and lightly pats her back lightly, letting her lean her rest her forehead on his shoulder.

“HAH! Your mother never changes son, she has always been sentimental like that,” his father says. “Understand her feelings a bit, three years ago she could barely accept that you were going to Tokyo and now she has to accept that his eighteen-year-old baby is going to America!”

“This Sawamura Eijun is not a baby!”

“You will always be my baby!”

“Mom!”

His grandfather laughs through his teeth, ending with his laughter the little scene the family makes.

“Eijun," he says with a smile, "we are going to miss you even more than when you went to Seido. Understand them a little, at least your parents had the comfort of knowing you were still in Japan, now they don't.”

Three years in Seido do not pass in vain, his grandfather looks more stooped and the wrinkles on his face more pronounced. He will have prepared for this trip for half a year, but saying goodbye to his grandfather always makes him sad.

“Ji-chan...”

“The fact that you went to Seido makes you brave, not like your coward father" his dad sounds offended by his grandfather's words, "but America is a different country and continent. More intimidating, so enjoy your time there. You have the trusty slaps of this humble family as a weapon.”

“Grandfather!”

It's the only good picture of him, and Eijun resists crying when he remembers that he'll never see him again. That his grandfather died while he was on another continent and in another country, that he couldn't go to his funeral because his parents didn't want to interrupt a baseball career he wasn't sure could take off, all because of a white lie he told them.

He prints the photo and carefully cuts it out, leaving only his grandfather.

When he comes downstairs, the smell of food floods his nose. If he thought the ofrenda was beautiful, it was even more so with the addition of small portions of food that his Aibou placed on pretty plates.

“Hey! It took you long enough.”

“Not my fault! If my Ji-chan liked to take pictures, it would have been so much easier!”

“Ha! I understand! My grandparents didn't like taking pictures either.”

Eijun then puts his grandfather's picture in one of the boxes at the top, right next to what he thinks are Erick's grandparents. The difference in dress between the three elders is amusing to see.

“Oh, he looks so much like you," says Erick in mild amazement.

“Really…?”

“You have the same eyes as him.”

For some reason, that statement embarrasses him a bit. He’s about to say thank you when Erick speaks again.

 “Plus, he has big hands. He would have been a great catcher.”

“That's all you're interested in?! Yokai! Monster!”

“I bet he gave incredible slaps!”

“U-Uruse! Stop analyzing my grandfather with your strange ability! You embarrass me!”

“Too late! I already did it!”

“GAAH!”

Eijun can't put more things, considering that the things his grandfather liked to eat are not available in America and the chances of getting Kakis, his favorite fruit, were not great either.

“Kakis? You mean Persimmons? Damn… I know your stomach is made with iron, but your grandfather really like that…?”

“Don't look at me! Kakis, you hate it or love it, personally I don't care, but my grandfather was fascinated by them. We even had a kaki tree on the farm...”

“How about something else? A particular dish he'll like?”

“Can you make tonkatsu?”

In the end, they searched the Internet for the recipe and Aibou improvised with what he had. The rice used in America is different, but Erick manages to make it look like Japanese rice. The breading on the pork is also different, but it ends up almost crispy, and the lettuce is finely chopped.

Eijun doesn't know how to cook, which is why he loves Erick. He is very good at it, and when the tonkatsu is finished and placed in front of his grandfather's picture, Eijun stands just as Erick did when he admired the offering.

“What do you think of your first ofrenda? Pretty good, isn't it?”

He nods, because frankly, he has run out of words to respond. The photo of his grandfather is softly lit by candles.

“He will come... even though his death was recent?”

“He will.”

Eijun doesn't even notice the first tear that falls. He doesn't notice when his vision blurs and soon Erick is hugging him to calm his silent crying.

The candles move slightly, and the hanging shredded paper shakes a bit.

.

.

.

.

When it’s November third, Eijun looks at the food they offered the day before yesterday. Erick said they put up the offering late because the children arrive on the first of November and the adults on the second.

“Some people put it up at the end of October because they have pets and they are the first to arrive, but I never had a pet," he said.

For this last day, the candles are extinguished, along with the incense Eijun got at the last minute.

In the previous days, when Erick would look at the altar, Eijun would sometimes see him praying and saying prayers for his deceased. Eijun usually accompanied him, although the prayers they say may be different, Eijun hoped that it was the intention that counted.

Before blowing out the candle near his grandfather, he clasps his hands together and gives a light prayer. Tonkatsu's plate is still intact, and he retrieves it to heat it in the microwave. His Aibou watches from afar in silence as he extinguishes the remaining candles.

When it is hot, Eijun grabs a spoon and without any hesitation, scoops a portion of the dish into his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time.

“Eijun? Are you okay?”

His eyes shed more tears as he swallows. His eyes are a river of tears.

“I can’t taste… I can’t taste anything at all," he whispers.

Erick hugs him tightly.

Chapter 3: The fire that burns the soul

“One, two, three, four!”

“One, two, three, four...!”

“One, two, three, four!”

“One, two, three, four...!”

Eijun sees the little children running as hard as they can. They are drenched in sweat and their faces show the effort they are making to keep moving on the dirt track. Eijun sets the pace with his voice, smiling slightly when inevitably, the memory of his own training in Seido comes to his mind.

Of all of them, Yui and Sosuke are in the lead. They don't look any better than the others, but they have a better pace.

“Stop!" he blows his whistle to end the race, "you can rest!, all of you held up very well, I'm so proud of you!” Some children lie down on the ground to rest their souls, others are still able to stand between gasps and sighs, totally relieved. It's a good thing, the first team's overall stamina has increased quite a bit, and they're having no problems in the practice matches, though they're not winning them all, Masamune says it's an improvement compared to other years.

Which is... strange.

Didn't he say that Izumi Club was one of the best?

Perhaps simply Sendai baseball is just as intense as Tokyo’s.

Even with that, for Eijun it's a big improvement. A big improvement along with the basic plays they practice and his numerous simulations where he bats for the team to practice fielding and catching the elevated ones.

Although he must admit he's still nervous about getting involved in these kids' lives, Eijun doesn't know what changes he made beyond causing Yui to go to another baseball club; and now that he's been coaching him—if Yui decides to go to Seido again—he's at a higher level.

Would that be fair to Okumura? He wonders. Okumura was the main catcher until Eijun graduated, probably even remained so after...

But Eijun can't escape when Yui actively seeks him out and has that bright and hopeful look in his eyes. Not when he has made remarkable progress, and his in-game decisions have become superior. Yui was already a prodigy; that's how Eijun met him in Seido and that's how Masamune-san introduced him. Training him only brought out even more of the diamond the boy already was.

Perhaps, the other reason why he tries so hard not to relapse and run away like the coward he was before taking him to watch Seido's game, is because Yui trusts him so much to express his doubts to him.

How did Eijun deserve that kind of trust? He doesn't know.

Or maybe he does, but Eijun doesn’t want to admit it.

“Sawamura-san, do you think I have a future in baseball?” Yui asks him when they are alone. The boy is practicing his batting, following Eijun's advice to make slight modifications to his form to fit the boy's height a bit better.

Eijun never knew that Yui had been insecure about his height when he was younger, suggesting changing the batting form seemed the equivalent of giving the boy a painful slap in the face and Eijun didn't notice until he saw the frustration on his face.

He didn't let him keep batting, if he went on like this, Yui might injure himself.

And only then, after an awkward silence and with the boy avoiding looking him in the eyes, he confesses that, because of his height, he never had stable positions. Being small made the coaches doubt where to put him. He couldn't fill important batting positions because he wouldn't be strong enough, but his talent was too good to keep him on the bench.

Eijun listened intently as Yui went from being a decent first baseman to right fielder and back to the infield to shortstop. As if he were a ping-pong ball bouncing from side to side or worse, a slot machine.

“But as you know, my height is a problem there. Anyone taller than me has a better chance of catching the ball. That's why... That's why I decided to try out as a catcher, to prove that I could hold the position despite my height,” there was pain in his gaze, the sparkle in his eyes didn't go away, faded, “but you never said anything like that to me, you let my baseball speak for me, you let me show you everything I could do. You... you never doubted me, sensei...”

Eijun can read between the lines and body language. His experience in life and the game has made him very good at it, and he now knows a side of Yui that he never knew when he was in Seido.

Yui doesn't say it, but Eijun knows now that the position of catcher is the last chance Yui gives himself to play the sport he loves.

If he had been younger, if this had been his version of Seido speaking, he would not have hesitated to say something very inspiring, maybe even surreal things to cheer Yui up. But he is not that person anymore. If Yui was able to move on in the original timeline, Eijun has no doubt that he will be able to do so now.

Maybe Yui had someone to give him a little push, maybe the anger of being underestimated for his height ignited the flame in his heart. There are so many possibilities, so many, but in the end, all of them left a significant mark on Yui.

Now that he has gotten to know him better, he understands a little better why the boy almost gave up the starting catcher position at Seido so easily at all. Unlike Okumura, who fought with tooth and nail to only play as a catcher, Yui decided to prioritize what the team needed, to prioritize being valuable in other ways.

For high school Sawamura Eijun, that kind of thinking, that act of giving up the role you love the most for another, would have been sacrilege.

But he, who was once a Japanese player in the midst of intimidating American baseball, a nobody who had a lucky break to get on a team, not as a pitcher, but as an understudy in any role who constantly had to prove he was good in other things in order to play, because at that time, the other pitchers he was competing against were in a different league.

It was like facing an army of Narumiya Mei.

Literally, because they were made for only pitching.

Eijun understands. He understands Yui and his feelings very well.

“Tell me, Yui-shonen, did you like being in the infield? Did you like being in the outfield?”

“It was... it was a great experience. It wasn't bad...it was fun to get groundouts and when I was in left field my mouth was really open when the fly balls fell right into my glove...”

“How about catching? Do you like the rol?”

And that word seems to turn on a switch in the boy. His eyes light up, and even a faint, dreamy smile appears on his face.

Eijun knows that Yui loves it.

“I know it sounds silly," the boy says as he squeezes the baseball with his hands, "playing as a catcher was… refreshing. I can see the whole field, the defense following me, the pitcher's confidence in me, throwing to the bases, thinking about the pitch sequences and pitch calling... I... I really like that role a lot. I feel like it's... mine and only mine.”

Talking about it seems to calm Yui down, the storm in his head finally seems to subside to show clear skies.

“It seems to me that you already have your answer, Yui-kun. But let me tell you something... if you like something, stick to it. Ignore what others say about you, look forward, keep going. I promise you that all your hard work will be rewarded in the future. You don't need anyone's approval. You have a very bright future.”

A really bright one.

“You... You really believe that?”

Eijun just smiles at him.

“If I weren't sure, then my name is not Sawamura Ei.”

Maybe it was a before and after for both of them. Eijun feels that after that day, Yui looks at him the way he once looked at Chris and Katoka.

“What's on your mind, Coach Sawamura?”, Masamune tells him, adjusting the position of his glasses, an apparent habit of the man when he talks to people.

"The Sendai Tournament," he answers automatically. “I remembered too late, but the first team we will play against is Little Ine. They've probably already finished all their practice games, so we can't go and collect data on their players and...”

Eijun feels a terrible chill all over his body. A bad omen that makes him squirm like a cat and look around wildly until his gaze rests on Masamune. The man has a wicked smile on his face while his glasses are mysteriously lit to cover his black eyes.

Man, this doesn't bode well...

Suddenly, a laugh he had never heard before came from the man, making him break out in a cold sweat.

“Ku...ku...ku,” it's so sinister that Eijun can't help but compare it to an anime villain, one with a very mellow tone but one that—according to Eijun's experience in dealing with people with personalities on par with a flaming garbage can—once again tells him he's in danger, “Sawamura-san...once again proving you've played high-level baseball...Ku, ku, ku, ku, ku, ku....”

Eijun is not prepared to listen to words spoken so quickly that it could easily be mistaken for some kind of strange rap.

“You definitely smell like money; I couldn't have made a better bet with you to bring you to coach my team. With you by our side we will be unstoppable and win the Sendai tournament. Then we will conquer the summer tournament, and our kids will have great people behind them, increasing the prestige of the Izumi club and that in turn will win us more kids. Imagine all the talent that will come and...”

“STOP IT! YOU'RE SCARY! CREEPY!”

But Eijun is epically ignored, and that leaves him empty. The kids around him laugh out loud. Apparently this is a common occurrence for the coach, other coaches tell him.

“Forget it, Sawamura-san, it happens to him when he gets too excited, but he gets over it in an hour.”

“Yeah! We only intervene when we're in games, but if he gets really annoyed with you, nothing that a good slap won't fix.”

And they are right, Masamune pursues him to a certain extent, forcing Eijun to listen to his madness and mutterings until he can't take it anymore and slaps him with one of those slaps so common in his family. One that leaves the trainer with a big red mark on his cheek for the rest of the day.

Sure, Masamune-san apologizes and Eijun accepts the apology—but he'd be lying if he didn't admit that it felt good to give him a slap—and besides, knowing that he has a defense mechanism ready to spring into action if something creepy like that happens again.

Eijun now understands a little better why his grandfather loved to slap people.

The Sendai Tournament begins with a familiar feel, similar to the Invitational (according to Masamune-san, the Sendai Tournament can only be attended by eight teams selected at a Fall Tournament). A ceremony is held to introduce all the teams that will be playing. It is nice to see the kids lined up in rows and looking as seriously as possible as they introduce the teams.

Masamune says that he has included him in the technical list, so Eijun is allowed to be in the dugout and give his opinion. His team doesn't play until the second game, so he takes the opportunity to see his future opponents.

The first game is Ofunato Little against Yaoshi East. It doesn't make much sense for Eijun to think much about it. Growing up he never cared about watching games on TV or following leagues for his age. Maybe whispers about the U-12 knocked on his door once in a while, and by the time he got to Seido, he barely knew of the existence of the U-16 and U-18.

Was it hypocritical to feel so disconnected? He already was since he decided to intervene in Yui's life. But this?

‘Out of sight, out of mind.’ That was one of the phrases Erick said sometimes and Eijun didn't need to use his head to understand its meaning.

If Eijun does not know about the fate of other people, then he does not care. If he doesn't know what happened to them in their original time, then it doesn't matter what happens to them now.

If Eijun doesn't know them, then they don't matter.

Can you really say that? Can you say that you don't identify with his defeats? His victories? Can you be so indifferent to his feelings? His Aibou's voice asks.

Eijun hesitates at first, but he is aware that in this kind of thing it is either him or them. He knows that, if he does not want to have another crisis with his mind and body, he must gradually accept that he can no longer go back, that this is his new reality. If he could ignore them before, he can do it now.

Yes, I can. I can ignore them; I can move on.

Clang!

Ofunato Little shortstop takes the first step in the fifth inning; a solid hit to the ball that the left fielder misses by just inches due to a slip, an error that the Ofunato player does not waste and runs to second.

The fielder tries to get up as fast as he can to grab the ball and throw it to second with no success when the 'safe' is called and from there, the snowball for the defeat of one of the two teams begins to form.

With a runner on second and zero outs, the Ofunato team proceeds with a sacrifice bunt to move their runner to third. The fourth batter is up next and Eijun can feel the tension in the air, even his kids have stopped fooling around and are paying attention.

One look at Yaoshi's pitcher is enough to predict what will happen. The previously accurate pitches turn into balls until they reach a walk. The catcher calls a timeout and takes his time to talk to the pitcher.

Yui, who is standing next to him, seems to take note of the action.

“It's an appropriate time to call a timeout, isn't it? With third and first with runners, I noticed the pitches were a little off, so it wasn't the catcher's decision to give him the pass, was he?”

Eijun nods. “Right, the pitcher is losing control of the ball. What else can you notice, Yui-shonen? What do his pitches tell you?”

Yui stares at the battery before checking something in his notes and answering.

“Yaoshi's pitcher usually tends to throw outside pitches, he's similar to Shoto-kun in the sense that he might not be able to throw inside, so if I were his catcher... I'd call for pitches up the middle to reduce the margin of error on some of his balls and I'd intersperse them. But Ofunato's hitters have been putting pressure on him since the first inning, and I think...”

“You think…?”

“I think they've already guessed the catcher's pitch sequence, and since he's not very creative with the sequence either, it directly affects his pitch calling.”

“Perfect!," Eijun smiles at him proudly, "as they guess the pitch sequence right, fouls have become more common; it frustrates and tires the pitcher. Have you looked at the velocity score? His pitching speed has slowed down.”

Yui looks surprised, but when he turns to the scoreboard and sees the last velocity recorded by the pitcher, he exclaims in amazement:

“You are right, sensei! He... he was throwing at 120 km/h and now he's at 109!”

“You don't keep track of his pitch count either, do you?” he says amused.

At that, Yui looks slightly ashamed.

“The truth is… I don't...”

“I thought so... Yaoshi's pitcher currently has 57 pitches, while Ofunato's has 43. That's a huge difference, for this point and considering his age, as well as to avoid injuries they should do a–“

“Yaoshi East announces a change in players. Replacing: Hashimoto-kun as pitcher is Jiro-kun. Replacing: Murakami-kun as catcher is Serizawa-kun; pitcher, Jiro-kun and catcher, Serizawa-kun..."

“A change in players...”

Eijun ignores how Masamune looks at him again in a creepy way and concentrates on the game because it's the least he can do. But looking at them is no different than when he looked at Seido. It feels so... technical. There's no excitement or fun, he doesn't feel that familiar warmth in his heart and mind.

It feels like he’s a robot.

And the worst of all, he doesn't know if he should worry about that fact.

Maybe it will get better. Eijun thinks. To his mind it's not wrong to feel that way, logic tells him that he sees it in that way since they are lower-level games. The same happened for Seido, the same happened for all the games that were on TV and the same happened for all the games after the death of his Aibou. They were no fun to watch. It was not fun to play them. It wasn't...

I didn't want to see them; I didn't want to play them.

But the more the game progresses, his heart tells him that there is something strange. That it shouldn't be like this. That is wrong.

Everything is wrong.

Baseball is baseball. Major leagues or kids' games. Seido or not Seido. Coaching kids or playing it himself. He should have fun; he should get excited.

It's a horrible feeling. A feeling he also has when he finishes training the children at the Izumi club.

Why don't I get excited?

Even when the relief pitcher worked masterfully and now Yaoshi came back, the only thing Eijun can focus on is the teams' mistakes and get frustrated. There's no fun, no excitement. No nothing.

Why do I always get frustrated?

“Strike! —Batter out!”

Why do I get angry?

“END OF THE GAME!”

“And with that, guys; Yaoshi East wins! A great comeback by them! C’mon everyone, give them a log applause!”

Why?

“Bow!”

“Thank you for everything!”

Why?!

His heart is beating so fast he feels like it's going to beat out of him. For a moment he feels short of breath, but Eijun can't concentrate on breathing, he can't when his heartbeat is so loud in his ears and the rest of the world is so far away. He can't control his breathing when he realizes that, in reality, he doesn't love baseball anymore.

"Sawamura-san!"

His left hand tingles, his body feels cold. The voice calling him sounds so familiar that he wonders if it is a hallucination. Erick is not with him, he is dead, he is ten feet under. He's been dead for a year.

It can't be his voice.

“Sawamura-san! Can you hear me?”

His left arm feels bad. It feels like thousands of ants are crawling up his arm and biting him.

More voices are speaking, but he doesn't understand them. He can't understand what's going on when his brain can only focus on one thing.

Eijun no longer loves baseball. That's the truth, that's a fact. That's the reality.

A hand rests on his shoulder, a calm, soft voice calls out to him, but he can't look at his face. It's not his Aibou or another member of the Yankees, nor is it his trainer, who has always been so kind and patient with him since Erick died.

It's none of them, but the touch feels so warm against his cold body that slowly, Eijun looks up to meet eyes behind glasses and his first thought is...

Kazuya...?

“Ei-san, can you hear me?”

The sound of his heart is louder and Eijun feels his throat closing. His hands clutch at the person in front of him because he can't breathe properly, and his vision fills with white spots.

 He does his best to nod.

“Hey, you're safe. You're at the Rakuten Mobile in Miyagi. Yaoshi East's first match against Ofunato Little is over. Can you hear me breathing? I'll count out loud for you to breathe with me.”

Won't he do it? He is always left alone. Even when he thinks he has found his place in the world, it always reminds Eijun that he is replaceable, that he is not special. That he is as fragile as a butterfly.

“One...”

“Two...”

Eijun tries to breathe but fails. The man in front of him says something, a congratulations. One of his hands grips his and the feel of the calluses against his own makes him a little more aware of his surroundings.

“Three...”

“Four...”

There are whispers, the drum that is her heart seems to lower the volume on his hates along with the pain in his chest. The man is still holding him, he has kept his promise to stay by his side.

Eijun tries to keep up with the man so as not to disappoint him.

“Seven...”

“Eight...”

The man tells him more. He talks about the game, about the first five innings, about the relief pitcher, about the fly ball in the seventh inning that seemed to turn the tables for Ofunato. He talks about the last three outs and the different pitches thrown by the relief pitcher.

He talks for much longer, long enough for Eijun to have a moment of lucidity and actually remember where he is sitting. Long enough for him to speak between gasps.

“D-dying...?”

But with every word he gives, he feels the little air he mustered vanish.

“Am I... dying?”

The gentle voice tells him no. That he’s safe. It tells him to keep breathing at his own pace and Eijun follows it as he squeezes his hand tightly, hoping to feel even more warmth. There’s a faint ringing in his ears.

“Do you remember what you did yesterday, Ei? You were going through the scorebook with Yui-kun, remember which game you guys were reviewing?”

Yes, he can remember.

“Hawks..." He answers with difficulty. “The... Soft Bank Hawks game...”

“That's it, you're doing well, Ei-san.”

“Masa... san...?”

“That's right, it's me. Masamune. I'm with you, Ei. I won't leave you. I promise.”

“But... the game...”

“The game can wait. There is still time. Don't think about it. You're the more important right now, understand?”

Eijun wants to say that he understands. He wants to, but his mind doesn’t agree.

The more he breathes, the sharper and more constant the sounds become. Slowly he realizes that it's just him and Masamune in the stands, with a few other people watching him with curious eyes until Masamune uses his wide body to cover him. Eijun can slowly feel that he can already hold the air in his lungs when he can talk about the pitches he and Yui were reviewing yesterday.

When Eijun finally calms down, he can notice the tears on his face, his trembling body and the enormous force he has put on Masamune's hand.

One of the team coaches’ approaches, but Eijun doesn’t have the strength to listen what they say. He feels bad, broken in body and soul, but he doesn't want to go back to the Internet cafe to sleep in his lonely cubicle.

“Rika-san, take him to my place. My spare key is in the flowerpot to the left of my door. Don't leave him alone until I get back.”

Eijun feels her grab him and tell him to follow her. He almost wants to refuse, he wants to stay, but he has no strength, no will fight.

Masamune puts a hand on his shoulder before walking away and Eijun has to blink a few times and breathe slowly again at the feeling of being alone. Somehow strange, considering that Rika is at his side, leading him out of the stadium.

“Everything will be fine, Sawamura-kun. You'll be able to rest soon.”

Resting sounds good. Eijun thinks. He wants to rest.

He wants to forget about his discovery. He wants to forget the pain.

He wants to forget that he no longer loves baseball…

.

.

.

.

.

.

…He hates it.

Chapter Text

Faithful to Masamune's orders, Rika-san took him to the coach's house with a motherly concern that Eijun almost wanted to refuse, but he didn't because of the enormous fatigue his body felt. A fatigue essentially different from when he pitched nine innings in a row.

Rika-san is friendly, too kind. Probably because she has never been in such a situation, and Eijun can't blame her; he has no experience with such things either. He certainly doesn't want to repeat the feeling of running out of air, being cut off from the world; of being on the edge of a cliff.

Eijun is currently lying on Masamune's couch with one arm covering his eyes and the other holding the medallion on his chest over his clothes, trying to keep Rika from looking at him directly because he doesn't know how to face it and doesn't want to talk about what happened. Rika has tried to start small conversations where Eijun ends with dry answers and the appearance of a headache.

He understands what she wants to do. But Eijun has no idea what to say to her.

What will Eijun say? That he’s from the future? That he lose his previous life? That he’s bankrupt? That he’s tired?

Fed up?

Annoyed?

That he passed from a decent apartment to living in an Internet cafe and surviving on the most tasteless curry he has ever had? Only Masamune was aware of this last detail, and Eijun didn't want to bother anyone else with it.

He doesn't need anyone's pity.

Eijun lets out a sigh. He still feels the urge to cry, his mind is in a chaos even though he has managed to calm down. He feels relieved to be away from everyone, but at the same time, he feels frustrated. Like a venom coursing through his veins and corroding his body.

He wants to scream.

But he can't.

Today was his children's first game. Today Eijun would watch them play. Today Yui is showing all the progress they've made.

And he had to screw up because his mind wanted to think. He had to mess everything up because it was more important for him to start thinking about himself and asking stupid questions.

Of course, it's important to think about yourself but today was not the time. Eijun knows he has problems; he’s not that stupid!

But Eijun could have dealt with the consequences on his own, he didn't need an audience and...

"Sawamura-kun" he listens to Rika. Her voice doesn't indicate anything special, "I thought you wanted to know how the kids are doing. Coach Shiro managed to do a live broadcast on Facebook. Do you want to watch it? It's not the best quality, but it's something."

Eijun makes an affirmative noise as he uses all his willpower to sit down. Rika-san sits next to him and shows her phone. As she said, the quality isn't the best—considering it's a Facebook Live and it's an older phone than his—but it's entertaining.

It's the top of the third inning; Izumi Club has a 10-0 lead in runs with them in the offensive. Yui and Shoto-kun have one out and Eijun watches them prepare for the next pitch, which comes with a nod from Shoto.

The ball leaves Shoto’s hand with a slightly curved trajectory.

Little Ine's batter makes contact which, judging by the sound, is not solid. The ball ends up being a fly ball that lands calmly into the left fielder's glove.

“OUT!”

“One out more, Shoto-kun!”

“Nice ball, Shoto!”

“One out!”

Eijun feels guilty. He should be there, cheering from the dugout, analyzing the opposing team, and supporting Masamune like the co-trainer he’s supposed to be.

Isn't it better that way? Would I have had the strength to watch them play after my little discovery?

Eijun can still remember how long ago, when he had just joined Seido and Kataoka asked him why he hadn’t attended Seido games, Eijun's response was… curious? Honest? He had said that he didn’t want to see anyone else on the mound but him, so it didn’t seem right to him to go and watch the games when he couldn’t sincerely cheer for whoever was on the mound.

A selfish answer, he won't deny it. But in the end, Kataoka laughed, that’s why Eijun could play in the game against the upperclassmen.

It's the same here. Can Eijun honestly support his kids when he has such conflicting feelings? When can’t he look at the mound or the batter's box, without seeing his Aibou there? When the only thing Eijun can feel is apathy all over his body?

“STRIKE TREE! —BATTER OUT!”

The third out is called after three clean strikes by Shoto. Two fastballs in the strike zone and a curveball that forced Little Ine's batter to take an awkward swing. The children look happy throughout the Live.

They are fine.

“Huh? Sawamura-san?”

They don't need me.

Eijun knows he promised Masamune-san he would stay, but if he's honest, the last thing he wants to do is face the man. Not when in his confusion, Eijun called him by another name.

Bowing slightly towards Rika, Eijun thanks her.

“Thank you for bringing me. But I think it's time for me to back home.”

“Sawamura-san!” there’s fear in her voice, “Masamune said you to wait for him here! You should at least go see a doctor!”

“There’s no need” he interrupts her, “I can take care of myself.”

Eijun is about to head towards the entrance when he hears the children shouting through the phone.

“Osh! Osh! Osh!”

At first, he stands still, looking in obvious confusion at Rika, who looks at her phone and holds it out to him. Eijun hesitates at first to grab it, but when he hears that familiar scream again, he goes back to watching the live.

Coach Shiro is broadcasting from a spot near the Izumi Club dugout. Eijun can see and hear the kids saying his catchphrase, which he has never been able to completely get rid of despite the passage of time.

Eijun doesn't even remember saying that in front of them.

"Osh! Osh! Osh!”

“Osh! Osh! Osh!”

“It's fun!” Eijun hears one of the children speak.

“Now I understand why turbo grandma likes to say it!”

“Right!? Let’s say it Again! Osh! Osh! Osh!”

"Osh! Osh! Osh!”

“OSH! OSH! OSH!”

For some reason, a knot forms in Eijun’s stomach and rises to his chest. But it's different. It doesn't feel suffocating or heavy. It feels light and special.

Eijun’s left hand unconsciously goes to his chest, feeling the medallion between his fingers.

“Osh? Osh? What does that even mean?” Erick asks as they both return to the dugout to change after a tough inning. Together they have struck out all of the Visalia Oaks' cleanup, and Eijun couldn't help but shout it out to release the tension and adrenaline in his body, but that earned him a reprimand from the coach.

It was the heat of the moment, he knows. This is the first game they've played as an official battery after a whole season with Eijun serving as catcher and pinch hitter. He just couldn't help it, the fire in his body, the feeling of being on the mound again, the ecstasy of striking out the batters; the loss of breath every time his Aibou caught his pitches, and his mitt made a beautiful sound. He had lost himself in the zone, and he said it without meaning to.

Eijun is sure that his face is red with embarrassment, and he is just mumbling like a cat, angry with himself.

“I'm sorry, it's... it's something I did a lot in high school, but if it bothers you then–”

“Wow, wow! Stop it!” Erick's accent is strong but comfortable. “I don’t mind or anything. I've never heard you say that before,” says Erick while he combs his reddish hair back. “Don't let what the coach told you affect you. He's a grumpy old man, neither you nor I’ll ever gonna make him happy.”

Eijun nods, still slightly worried as he helps Erick take off his protective gear, thinking in his words.

His former teammates never liked his habit, nor did his coaches in America, because, like the wolf boy, they always said he was unnecessarily loud.

A pitcher shouldn't be that loud or emotional on the mound.

'You're in the minor leagues at such a young age and with a Triple-A classification, Eijun, you have to take more care of your image and performance if you want to jump to the majors…'

That's why Eijun is always careful about it. He's been slowly working on kicking the habit since he distanced himself from Chris and started working with other catchers.

Did he also annoy his Seido teammates with this habit? Or is it more a cultural difference? After all, Eijun remembers Seido yelling at him at the end of an inning or after exciting pitches, but...

They told me to shut up too, right?

It's Erick's turn to bat, and Eijun pays attention to him. His batting form is balanced and without any visible flaws. It's fascinating to watch him in this position, so concentrated on the ball, so focused on making a good swing.

It only takes Eijun a blink to miss the pitch and hear a loud bang. The ball flies so fast that he loses sight of it as it heads toward right field.

Literally.

“AND IT'S GONE! THE RIVER CATS' SIXTH BATTER HITS A HOME RUN!”

As Erick runs around the bases with one arm raised and the sound of the music starts to be so loud, Eijun hears Erick scream:

“OSH! OSH! OSH!”

It's a laugh that comes from him. Or the closest thing to it. He feels his cheeks wet, but he doesn't care if Rika looks at him like that.

“For Turbo Grandma!” they shout.

“For Turbo Granny!”

“Tabo baba!”

Eijun grips the phone tightly as he sits down again.

Oh, he'll be confused about his life, about his being. But these kids have no idea. For them, baseball is as simple as ever.

They're just enjoying the game. For them, baseball is fun, it's an escape, it's love and competition.

And for some reason, they've decided that Eijun deserves the same treatment, even though he doesn't show the same passion; that Eijun deserves to be an important person in their lives despite the short time he's known them and how little he's done for them.

But that's no small thing. How many people haven't thanked you for teaching them? How many don't seek you out or send you messages for advice? Even the children you met when you were lost still visit you and ask to play with you, even though you spend less time with them. The voice similar to Erick's speaks to him, reminding him of good things.

“Don't be so hard on yourself, Aibou.”

Eijun feels a hand on his shoulder, Rika-san offering silent support that lasts until the end of the game, for which he is eternally grateful.

The game ends under the mercy rule in the bottom of the seventh inning, with Izumi Club winning 17-3, and the loud 'Osh! Osh!, Osh!' in the background.

The last thing Eijun expects when the time comes to face Masamune is for the entire front line to fight to get into the apartment. It's kind of funny to see how they pile up at the entrance trying to ignore the laws of physics and consequently, not being able to get through.

In the end, Yui raises his voice and forces them to line up, all blushing in embarrassment when they realize that Eijun and Rika-san were watching them the whole time.

“Sensei!” Yui is the first to speak to him. The boy has something in his hands that he extends towards Eijun and all he sees is... a watermelon. “I…! We regret not being able to help you! Although… I think we could not have done much for you, Masamune-sensei said that he helped you, and we are really happy to see that you are okay.”

The rest of the team nods, they look really happy and have relieved smiles on their faces.

And Eijun can't help but think again...

What did I do to deserve this recognition?

“That's why we tried even harder to win the first match!”

“Yeah! We had to win for you!”

“The rest of Sendai must know the fruits of training with Turbo Grandma!”

“So, it's okay if you can't see us tomorrow either, Coach. We'll keep winning until you can be with us!”

“Hmm! We'll take you to the finals! So, focus on recovering, sensei!”

It's so emotional watching them talk that Eijun can't stop crying.

Aside from Erick and the Yankees, he can't remember the last time someone made such a promise to him after high school, he can't remember the last time someone promised to take him to places that seemed impossible to reach. If Eijun stayed with them longer, would he hear them promise to take him even further?

Masamune-san stands in a corner and watches silently, but with a relieved smile, Eijun finally accepts the small watermelon they brought and thanks them with a slight smile.

The kids blush again, perhaps not expecting their coach to bow to them in thanks.

"Would you like some watermelon?" he asks them with a friendly smile. "This poor and humble coach Sawamura doesn't think he can eat this watermelon by himself."

Ah, I let it slip, he thinks. It's been a long time since I talked like that.

The kids look at him a little confused by this archaic phrase, but they laugh. They have fun with it, and soon, Eijun has to deal with every kid on the team who is trying to suffocate him by hugging him too much.

The night ends with Eijun handing out pieces of watermelon to the entire team and wishing he had some Tajín to add more flavor...

And why not? Watch his kids react to the clash of flavors.

Spending time with his kids makes the rest of the day feel so fleeting, he can't help but feel sad when it's time for them to leave.

“Have a good rest, Coach!”

“I will!”

“Don't give the doctor any trouble tomorrow!”

“What do you mean, Yui-shonen? I always behave well with them!”

The children and Rika-san say their goodbyes one by one. Eijun watches them go with some sadness, wishing they had stayed longer so he could share their carefree and joyful ways.

Getting away from the adult world for a moment and just spending time with people whose only immediate concern is what kind of ice cream they want to eat in the morning is another world experience.

He misses so much be like that.

But time is running out and Eijun has to go back to the internet cafe to renew the payment for his cubicle for another twenty-four hours. He wants to say goodbye to Masamune as well, but he looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Where are you going, Ei?”

Why does Eijun have the feeling that he has done something wrong?

“To... the internet cafe?”

“You're not going back there.”

“Huh?”

“Ei-san, didn't you notice I brought your stuff?”

“I DIDN'T NOTICE!”

All it takes is a quick scan of the room with his cat-like eyes to spot his makeshift suitcase near the table and his baseball bag.

“WAIT A MINUTE! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET MY STUFF?!”

“When Rika-san dropped you off at my apartment, you left your bag at the stadium, so I took the opportunity to finally get you out of that cafe. That lifestyle isn't healthy.” Masamune said that as if interrupting others' business could be that easy.

But, if Eijun thinks about it, Masamune feels like that type of stalker.

“LOOK WHO SAYS IT! I COULD THANK YOU, BUT ONCE AGAIN I FEEL VERY HUMILIATED!”

Eijun could go on, he really could.

“Listen, Ei-san” Masamune speaks with a serious tone that forces Eijun to listen and put aside his anger, “you are young and I understand very well that you don’t want to talk about your past. I don’t know what you have been through and if you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll not force you, but what happened today isn’t something I can let go of easily.”

“That's not what I…”

“Is this your first panic attack?”

Eijun is silent but nods when he recognizes that arguing with Masamune is pointless.

“Rika-chan said you were much better when you got here, so I won't force you to go to the doctor tomorrow if you don't want to.” Masamune says as he crosses his arms, “But I want your word that if something like this happens again, you'll seek professional help... Is that a deal?”

Eijun nods again and gets a sigh of relief from Masamune.

“I also want you to talk to me once a week after you move to Tokyo.”

“Masamune-san, I really appreciate everything you do, but I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can take care of yourself. I know you're not a kid, but when I see you... all I can think about is my son.”

Oh...

“I… I didn't know you had a son...”

“I do. He's a little devil if you ask me. He starts high school this year too, but he lives with his mother in Hokkaido. My son is a sentimentalist, and he told me to my face that he's going to make Hokkaido's baseball the best in Japan. Can you believe that?”

Eijun appreciates the change in the conversation. Masamune is less serious now. Eijun thinks he can breathe better and also catches the fun in Masamune's voice.

“Wow... he sounds...”

“Arrogant? Angry? Confident?” Masamune says with a smile, his glasses shining mysteriously,” I don't blame him, he had talent for baseball since he was little, and with my guidance, he became a good pitcher in middle school. He throws the ball like a rocket launcher!”

“Rocket launcher?”

“That's a good comparison! Before I moved to Tokyo, my little son could throw at 130 kilometers per hour...”

If Eijun drank water, he would have drowned for sure. The average throwing speed for fourteen to fifteen-year-olds is usually 110 km/h!

“130!? Is he a monster!?”

Masamune just laughs, “You could say that! His top speed in his last year of middle school was 139 km/h, a real power pitcher!”

For some reason, this sounded remarkably familiar.

Well, Eijun shouldn't be surprised. Furuya came to Seido pitching close to 150 km/h. So, the fact that Masamune's son's son was throwing to almost 140 km/h shouldn't surprise him, after all, there was another pitcher he met in Koshien in his second year who was very similar to Furuya, but with better ball control.

If Eijun remembers correctly, that pitcher entered at the same time as him, came from the same place as Furuya, and...

Wait a minute.

Sawamura feels his brain freezing. The gears are turning slowly but surely along with the squirrel that has as a brain. He can almost hear his Aibou scolding him for being too slow.

“Masamune-san.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your son's name?”

“Ho! I thought you'd never ask! Hongo! Masamune Hongo is his name.”

Eijun just never had a chance, didn’t he? Fate had already made fun of him ever since he met Masamune-san.

Did I cause his parents to split up? He wonders inwardly, although he knows there's no point in thinking about it. It's not as if he knew anything about Masamune Jr.'s private life.

Eijun tries not to think about other possible changes.

“Ah... I wish Hongo had come with me!” Masamune says in a dramatic tone, “With you at his side, he would have become unstoppable! The perfect pitcher!”

Eijun can only answer with slight nausea and skepticism.

“I don't think so, we have very different styles...”

He and Masamune Hongo were like water and oil. Even if Eijun with training and time got a record of 150 km/h in his best pitches, Hongo-san started throwing balls at 160 km/h as nothing once he got enough experience in the NPB.

Of course, Masamune didn't seem to hear his words, and Eijun ended the rest of the night with this creepy version of the coach who talks like a rapper.

Eijun didn't have the strength or courage to slap Masamune to bring him back to normal.

"Masamune-san," he says when the man has calmed down and it's time to sleep. Masamune has a futon that he borrowed, and Eijun is taken back to his childhood for a moment—back to when he was five years old and watched his grandpa sleep on tatami mats and futons because, according to him, they were much better than modern beds. And Eijun, like a child who gets into mischief, slept with his grandpa in the middle of the night.

Of course, Eitoku always scolded him, (“You have your bed, Gaki!”) but in the end, the old man let him sleep with him.

Masamune looked at him and Eijun suddenly felt his voice leave. His hands squeezed the futon, and he took a deep breath to get the courage to speak.

"Thank you for not leaving me alone, for helping me... Seriously. I... tend to be stupid sometimes, so I don't know what I would have done without you." His eyes burn for a few moments. The feeling of wanting to cry invades his body, but Eijun resists the urge.

Masamune freezes for a second, but as he adjusts his glasses, he replies.

“It’s the least I can do for you.”

Eijun nods with a slight smile, He's a little tired from the roller coaster of emotions this day has been, but with a warm feeling in his chest to have someone who cares about him by his side.

“By the way,” Masamune approaches him before Eijun enters the guest room. “You left your wallet; I just remembered it when I put my hands in my pants pockets. How stupid of me! Forgive this old man, Ei.”

Eijun just shakes his head and tries not to laugh as he grabs his wallet from Masamune. Yes, normally, he would have lost his mind if he had lost it. He had been taking care of his wallet religiously since his return to the past, but if he was honest, he didn't even remember its existence.

Breathing and resting were way more important to him.

“Don't worry, with everything that happened, the last thing on my mind would be my wallet.”

And with that, they both go to sleep.

Or so Eijun tries, it feels strange now to be in a bigger and more comfortable place, in contrast to the small cubicle he has been living in for months.

With his wallet once again in his hands, he opens it. In one of the small slots, he takes out a photo that has been religiously cared for and looks at it even though the moonlight passing through his window is not strong enough for him to appreciate all the details.

Eijun stares at the photo until his body can no longer keep his eyes open.

For once in a long time, the collar on his neck doesn't feel so heavy.

For once, Eijun feels like he can sleep well.

Chapter 4: Fight, sit and cry.

“Turbo, grandma?”

“Tabo baba!? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, c’mon! They give me the go-ahead to come, and the first thing you guys ask is what am I doing here?! IT HURTS!”

Maybe Eijun is exaggerating, but it’s okay. Humor always makes him feel better (and a white lie never hurts). Yui is the first of them to approach him as he takes off his mask. The kid has relieved eyes but, at the same time, has a question on his face that Yui does not dare to ask in public.

“Sensei! Welcome back!”

“Welcome!” others say.

“It's great to come back!”

Deciding to come was something that took quite a while, a last-minute decision when he got up at five in the morning to run and clear his mind.

Eijun, lost in his thoughts, didn't notice the time and ended up scared Masamune when he didn't find him in the guest room. When Eijun returned to the apartment and realized that he didn't have a key, he knocked on the door and Masamune opened it with a worried face, his hair completely disheveled, and a phone that was just one button away from calling the police.

Needless to say, Eijun had to apologize profusely for forgetting his manners. He hadn't even left a note, forgetting he wasn't alone as usual.

If Masamune had been Erick, Eijun would have been punished by not touching the mound for weeks and being moved to another position.

The kids quickly greet him before heading onto the field to warm up. Eijun enters the dugout and adjusts his Izumi club uniform cap.

Masamune-san understands his decision not to go to the doctor—with a clear reminder that if something like that happens in the future, Eijun will go without question—and fills him in on the encounters along the way.

If his kids win against Yaoshi East, they could face Madoka West or Yokohama Little in the finals.

“Welcome back, Ei-san” Rika greets him, “I hope you are feeling better.”

"I am," he replies as he sits next to her. The scorebook is nearby, and Eijun grabs it to check the scores from yesterday's game. "I... never got to thank you for helping me yesterday, Rika-san. I'm sorry if I was rude to you," he says with guilt.

The woman smiles and makes a carefree gesture “Don't worry! You scared me for a moment, but everything's fine.”

For Eijun, the fact that she doesn't insist or ask about what happened yesterday makes him feel less pressured.

“By the way, be sure to leave notes for Masamune when you go jogging,” she says with fun in her voice, “it's fun to watch him lose his mind, but it's better if he doesn't try to call the police every time he doesn't see you.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Pfff, just be more careful.”

The noise of the children keeps Eijun from thinking too much, at least to some extent.

He’s always trying to keep himself busy because he fears the answers to the questions his mind is trying to ask if he lets his guard down for a moment.

It may sound cowardly. But Eijun doesn't have the strength to face everything yet.

"The match between Yaoshi East and Izumi Club will start in seven minutes. Seven minutes."

Is it bad that I prefer to stay in the dark a little longer?

The kids from both teams line up, a process that Eijun has seen so many times that he, somehow, missed it even though this ritual doesn't exist in America at all. The kids look at each other competitively, with that hunger to win in their eyes and childish smiles that show the fun they want to get out of the game.

Eijun takes a deep breath and holds it for a few moments to calm his pounding heart as he watches the children greet each other and take their positions. Fortune seems to be smiling at Masamune as he returns to the dugout with an eerie smile.

As always, Izumi Club's batting lineup starts with Sosuke on the right side of the box. Eijun is happy to see how the boy, though a bit rebellious, actually follows his advice. Seeing how he has better balance in his batting stance and how his swing has improved fills him with expectations for the others.

And apparently, his kids want to keep raising that bar.

Sosuke's first at-bat ends in a double to right field, allowing him to reach second and the others' cries of excitement are not long in coming. Maita-shonen is next, with a predatory look that makes the Yaoshi pitcher uncomfortable.

And though it is unfortunate, Maita's swing, though quite wide, ends up turning the ball into a fly that falls easily into the center fielder's glove.

“GAAHH!” the boy screams disappointedly. "I'm so sorry, Turbo Grandma! I wanted a deep hit, and I gave up an easy out...”

The children look at him and Eijun wonders why his opinion now seems to be more important than Masamune's.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm sure you'll get it the next time."

Maita smiles and with that, Eijun turns his attention back to the game.

Even though his attention is divided between the painful feeling in his chest and the joy of watching the boys play, Eijun thinks he is doing a decent job; he cheers them on when in the first inning, despite the easy out, they manage to score three runs thanks to a double hit by Yui as the fifth batter; they reach bases loaded.

The joy of the children, their screams. The unexpected sound of ‘Osh! Osh! Osh!' stuns him for a moment.

Their offense ends when Fujiko misconnects with the ball and sends it straight to the shortstop, who throws it straight to home plate, successfully ending the inning.

But as much as Eijun encourages them, he also comforts them.

They are children. He remembers. They are children.

Eijun makes sure to pay attention to Shoto and Yui's performance, noticing that the Yaoshi players don't have good batting technique and suggesting to the young battery that they must be more aggressive in the next inning. He also makes sure to take notes in the scorebook, ignoring the fascinating looks of Rika and Masamune to him.

Sendai baseball has nothing to sneeze at. The momentum the kids once had is slowly transferred to Yaoshi when a good hit by the third batter results in a home run.

He feels proud when he sees Yui calling a time-out to talk to Shoto and calm him down, giving him confidence.

He can't hear them, but Eijun can imagine what they say to each other.

Shoto looks calmer, it's a hard blow to get the first home run of the tournament, but Eijun signals him to remind him of something important:

Breathe, Shoto.

Breathe.

Shoto nods and turns around before throwing. As he stretches his arms, Eijun watches him inhale deeply and exhale forcefully. The boy repeats the exercise two more times before the game resumes, Shoto looking more focused and less nervous, a look in his eyes that invites the batter to swing if he dares.

The first pitch is a fastball to the lower outside zone, the control is good enough for the umpire to call the first strike.

The second pitch is a ball that the fourth batter lets go. The infield yells "One out!" to support Shoto, who wipes the sweat from his brow.

The third pitch was a foul, the swing was not firm enough.

“He's scared, Shoto! You can do it!”

“One out!”

“Only one more out!”

Be aggressive, Eijun thinks. That's what he would do, what Erick would do.

What would Kazuya do?

A clean pitch to center, a fastball to fool the batter. A direct confrontation.

Yui tends to play safe, and Eijun doesn't know if the time they've spent practicing has managed to change that tendency a bit.

In the end, it turns out that he doesn't have to worry. Yui gives the signal, and when he sees his mitt in the center, Eijun smiles.

The fourth batter is tagged out on a fastball that lands right into the second baseman's glove.

“ OUT! —BATTER OUT!”

“And it was like GOSHH! And BAM! And SU-WOSH!”

Even when Shoto and Yui were replaced in the sixth inning, the kids didn't look dejected or angry about that. On the contrary, they are happier than ever and satisfied in a way that Eijun has experienced many times throughout his life.

It was a close game, and as much as his children were ahead, Yaoshi was able to keep up the pace, making up for every point lost.

His kids won thanks to a fielding error by Yaoshi in the sixth inning that allowed the third runner to come home with two outs: a victory worthy of a sports anime. Winning in the last minute of the last inning.

Needless to say, everyone is exhausted. Not so much thanks to Eijun working with them for a long time to improve their stamina but still exhausted in a good way.

The final will be against Yokohama Little in a week.

And while Eijun is looking forward to that day, it is also a reminder that his time here is over, and he will soon have to face Seido.

Perhaps he dreads that day even more because he doesn't know what to tell the children now that they look at him with dreamy eyes, now that they seek him out for advice or just to pass the time.

“Shoto-kun, I don't think the coach understands what you mean,” Yui says to calm down the overexcited pitcher, who despite pitching until the fourth inning—still shows no signs of exhaustion two days later.

Actually, Eijun understands. He was just like Shoto.

“You guys did a great job,” he tells them as leads them to the bullpen. Eijun and Masamune gave the kids two days off to rest, but they are kids after all, little balls of boundless energy that need to be taken care of to avoid injury. “I'm sure you're eager to play, aren't you?”

They both nod and Eijun grabs a catcher's mitt that fits his left hand perfectly. The kids look at him curiously before he positions himself where Yui would normally be at the plate.

Eijun will be gone soon, but before that, he wants to show Shoto and Yui one last thing. One last memory.

“I believe that both of you have the talent to become part of the best, Shoto-kun; I will teach you something new, “kneeling, Eijun stretches the mitt, “I will teach you how to pitch inside.”

There's a familiar gleam in Shoto's eyes and for a moment, Eijun wonders if this is how Chris saw him when he taught him how to pitch outside.

“And you, Yui-shonen” Eijun says while staring at Yui. “I will teach you how to frame pitches."

And as if by magic, both children become perfect soldiers as they approach him and sit down, already accustomed to the way Eijun teaches.

If someone had told Eijun years ago that he would be instructing children, many people would have laughed. Hell, Eijun himself would have laughed at that too. Everyone knows how much of an idiot he can be and coupled with his constant need to be on the go, it was almost unthinkable for anyone else who met him that Eijun would have the patience and creativity to teach.

He's not perfect at it yet, even less with his discovery: teaching still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he gets frustrated when things don't go his way, or the kids don't understand what he's trying to explain. But that's normal, that’s what they are: Kids. They are sponges who can turn into monsters with the slightest inattention, and Eijun remembers that he has been in their shoes.

Eijun was once a frustrating student for the teachers. The child who didn't understand things the first time, the child who had to work hard through trial and error because Eijun wasn't a prodigy like Narumiya Mei or Miyuki Kazuya.

“I don't expect both of you to master what I'm going to teach you… but you can still use it in the finals, it's a lesson for the future, for your next tournaments, and… for Koshien.”

And for Little League. Eijun adds it to his mind.

Don't be overconfident, says a voice that Eijun tries hard to ignore.

This is not the time to think about other things.

The first thing he does then, is get into a stance to receive outside pitches; leaning his body slightly to the left as he imagines a right-handed batter in the batter's box.

“Down and out, is the furthest point from the batter’s eyes and in contrast—” his stance changes again, this time to receive a ball on the inside, “—high and in, goes straight to the chest of a right-handed batter. So far, Shoto-kun have only thrown down and out and in the middle of the strike zone. It’s not bad, but if you only pitch to one side. You are not only limit your potential but also affecting the quality of Yui’s pitching calling. With time, the hitters will be used to your pitches faster than normal.”

Standing up, Eijun motions for them to take their proper positions. He helps Yui put on his protective gear while Shoto does some light stretching.

Once everything is ready, Eijun takes his bat out of his bag and positions himself significantly close to the strike zone. He can see Shoto tense up.

“It’s normal to be afraid of hitting someone by mistake. But I want you to remember something important: baseball is 90% mental and the rest is physical. Pitching inside has a significant mental impact on the batter, it makes him want to be more careful and vulnerable to outside pitches, do you know how that will end?”

Shoto pauses for a few seconds to think.

“Improve the pitch sequence?”

“And what does it mean?”

This time, with more confidence, Shoto answers again with a smile.

“It makes us more unpredictable.”

“Exactly. Throwing out only makes you predictable, but combining your good control with the ability to pitch offensively makes you a monster. You'll confuse batters, make the strike zone look bigger than it is, and make the ball seem to move faster for them... but if you want to do that, you have to overcome the fear of hitting the batter first.”

Eijun grips his bat tightly to look intimidating. He almost wants to laugh as Shoto swallows hard and prepares to throw.

The throw is mediocre at best. But at least it goes more to the right of the middle zone.

It’s different... so different. He thinks as he senses the ball passes by him. The difference in speed, and power. Nothing Shoto could throw at him would resemble what Eijun was used to.

“That’s a nice try!” Eijun says to calm Shoto as he resets his stance with the bat.

Shoto pitched like this a few more times, making small progress, but nothing significant. None of the balls pose a threat to Eijun, and the fact that he remains unperturbed by Shoto's controlled pitches certainly adds an extra layer of pressure.

It's a slow process, and Eijun makes sure to end the lesson when the boy gets close to the allowed throws for the day. He won't lie, part of him feels disappointed and wants to be more critical, but he knows that's not the right thing to do.

Shoto isn’t himself or some kind of prodigy pitcher. He’s good and has potential, but Eijun cannot fool himself or the boy.

The more professional part of him—the professional pitcher of the Yankees— whispers to him that Shoto will simply be one of those who take baseball as a hobby, that Shoto’s talent will only reach to be good during his school days, but never touch what is on the other side, to cross the wall and go beyond; no matter how much Eijun can teach him.

Shoto looks a little frustrated, but in his eyes, there's motivation and hunger to keep practicing. The part of him that is more human reminds Eijun that he could be wrong, and he has no right to judge Shoto when he’s so young.

Turning to Yui, he gently ruffles his hair as the boy removes his mask.

“Good catch. Tomorrow, we'll let Red-kun catch Shoto's balls.” This sentence made Shoto growl slightly, “I'll concentrate on teaching you an exclusive technique. Unlike framing, you'll probably be able to do this without any problems in the finals.”

Yui seems to want to say something else, but Eijun interrupts him with a wink.

“Do you remember the few times you saw me playing catcher? I'll leave you to think about how I'm different from other catchers.”

And with that, Eijun prepares to leave, but not before checking that Shoto has cooled his shoulder properly.

Teaching techniques from the future shouldn't hurt the timeline much, right? Sure, it might raise questions, but…

Well, it is not a technique from the future, it’s simply not used a lot yet.

Eijun really wants Yui and the other kids to shine. It's the least he can do after changing their lives just by being there. Letting them shine would, at least, give him a good reason to have been brought back in time to do something good instead of just causing disasters.

If Eijun faced Seido, what difference would he make between them?

But the more he thinks about it, the more Eijun is sure he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to change anything about his former senpai and kohai lives. There are things he wants to keep for them and Eijun has no right to interfere.

The days until the finals pass so quickly that Eijun wishes they would last longer.

Yui works as he always has. The boy proves repeatedly that his articles are true, that he has the spark of a child prodigy and genius in him when he masters everything Eijun wants to teach him in three days.

While Yui's framing still has some room for improvement that will only come with experience and practice, what interests Eijun is the stance.

Sure, Yui is a genius, a child prodigy. But that doesn't stop him from making simple mistakes.

Before teaching him, Eijun makes sure to correct his bad habits first, pointing out when he is on his toes and reminding him that his feet should be flat on the floor for better balance when performing secondary poses.

These are trivial things, but they often make a difference in endurance and reaction time.

Once he's sure that Yui is aware of his habits (and he doesn't need Eijun to remind him of these little mistakes and correct them himself) Eijun teaches Yui what he once had a hard time learning.

You don't go from pitcher to catcher overnight. It was a slow and painful process. A lot of sweat and tears, because what made Eijun so special as a left-handed pitcher with a natural moving ball was a curse for him as a catcher.

Sure, Eijun eventually became ambidextrous and could play with whichever arm he wanted, but that didn't make the process any less painful. It didn't diminish his animosity against his coach, even when he was called upon as a pinch hitter and later, regained his original position as a result.

Eijun didn't hate being a catcher, it's a position he deeply respects. All the people he loved and who helped him the most played that position; and it wasn't until he experienced what it was like to play baseball from a different vantage point, a vantage point where he could see the whole field and because of that, Eijun was able to develop his own game even more.

Besides, he thinks with amusement, it was always fun to see the confused faces of the crowd and the players when I went out to catch instead of pitching.

"Are you ready, Yui-shonen?"

"I was born ready, coach!"

Eijun approaches Yui who looks at him excitedly.

"I'm sure Masamune or one of the other coaches showed you the different stances of a catcher, right?"

Yui nods and replies with a serious voice, "There are primary and secondary stances. Usually, before we call a pitch, we also position ourselves so the second and third basemen can't see our signals". And without Eijun asking him, Yui squats down to show him.

The first position is just as Yui said, it's made to give the signals to the pitcher and to prevent the bases near home from seeing them by having the knees very close together. Yui then adjusts to show his primary stance, now corrected thanks to Eijun, which has become more comfortable for Yui.

The boy shows how he centers his body depending on where he wants to throw it and then changes to his second stance by raising his hips a bit. This was never a problem to correct in the first place, Yui was careful with his right hand not to hurt his thumb and is efficient at throwing accurately and comfortably against runners or receiving rough throws on the ground.

Yui's stances are textbooks, proven to be effective and the standard over the years.

And with that, Eijun remembers why what he's about to teach him was so hated in the first place.

"Bah! That's a very lazy stance! Boring!"

Eijun barely catches the ball from the pitching machine when an old man shouts this from afar. It wouldn't be correct to call him an old man, it's obvious that he's not even sixty yet, but the wrinkles on his face aren't in vain.

Eijun is more nervous about not being able to fully understand the man's English than whatever he's saying about his game.

This is one of Animal-san's teachings, one that he entrusted to Eijun as a weapon to defend himself as a catcher and that has worked very well since he joined the River Cats.

"Why are you in that position, shrimp? Don't you know how to do good secondary and primary stances? How come you're a professional and you stance yourself like that? You must be class A, right?"

Eijun feels like he's breaking out in a cold sweat, the man speaks so fast and angry that he doesn't fully understand what he says. He only managed to catch a few words to translate with difficulty with his poor brain.

'Stances… first… second… professional… Class A…'

What?

Eijun probably has a stupid expression on his face judging by the way the old man looks at him. So, he's just mentally preparing himself to be humiliated for his poor English and judged for being a foreigner.

The United States, for a country that was formed by immigrants, has serious problems in that regard.

'It's not like Japan is that different,' Eijun thinks, remembering how people from his home country used to look down on Chris and the wolf boy for being hafu.

"Gommen! Uh… sorry! Do you… could you speak more… slowly… to me? Please…?"

'It was a mistake to answer! Totally a mistake!' Eijun practically cries as the man treats him like a pocket-sized puppy being spoken to in a squeaky voice. Sure, Eijun can understand now, but at what cost?

After tremendous humiliation, Eijun can only answer that he is not classified as A. He only needs to point to a part of his uniform and his name and it's his turn to silence the terrible Jiji.

"I am AAA."*

And that somehow upset the man. It was as if the world had ended.

Eijun could only make out random things from the man's mouth like: “A Japanese! They're supposed to beg to get into the MLB! Spoiled kids! They lose their values! Catchers these days are so lazy! In my time...!”

Many of them are within Animal-san's warnings about what people would say about his stance. But Eijun has learned to ignore them.

"Eijun! People and coaches will tell you things about this stance! But don't give up, they fear what they don't understand! They're afraid of change!" Animal-san said, "They settle for the old and are always hesitant to improve because they don't understand today's baseball anymore!"

Eijun can't remember how many times he had to catch the ball from the pitching machine at different speeds before the old man finally accepted that he could catch the ball from that stance.

Although, Eijun thinks, no matter how many times he proves to her that this position works…

It will never be enough for them.

"I'll teach you how to catch with one knee down" Eijun watches as Yui blinks slowly and lets out a soft 'huh...?' It makes sense when he thinks about it, Yui came to Seido with well-learned and applied textbook tactics for Japanese baseball. Yui always playing safe and finding it a bit difficult to be aggressive.

In Eijun's time (in the future? the past?), catching balls with one knee down became the new standard as he, his Aibou, Chris-senpai, and Animal-san demonstrated its benefits. A position it had been used before but never explored further because "if it ain't broke, don't fix it".

Baseball is a sport that evolves and changes. It was easier for the Americans to accept the change and make this position the standard, an extra position with more advantages than disadvantages.

But for Japanese baseball...

Like its society, Japanese baseball has a hard time accepting change. It is hard for them to move forward unless they are the ones making it happen.

At the time, he often wondered... Why did Narumiya Mei and Miyuki Kazuya decide to stay there? Why did they never leave the NPB even as free agents?

Anyone would have bet on them to go to the MLB first, but of all those of his generation and three years before him, only Eijun and Chris achieved that goal.

Why? he asks himself. A question without an answer. The adult faces of Narumiya and Miyuki look at him in surprise as they face each other in a charity game. A friendly match between Japan and the United States.

When was the last time Eijun faced them?

Oh, yeah. It was in...

No, Eijun has a bad memory. In the end, both Miyuki and Narumiya left the NPB. They did. He has the proof, Eijun remembers the announcement that the Dodgers had hired both of them. He can even remember playing against them, but...

When?

"Sensei?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this okay?"

As expected, Yui seems a bit reluctant about the stance and Eijun doesn't blame him. But the more he explains that the stance is as good as any other, the more Yui seems to change his mind.

"It's a tricky position for the umpire. The traditional catching position that everyone teaches makes the umpire have one of your knees as a reference for making calls. This position "eliminates" that condition, allowing you to fool the umpire more successfully than usual. Since the knee you normally lower is the left one, you will also see that by freeing up that side, you can move your mitt more freely and farther than normal."

To prove his point, Eijun grabs a ball and prepares. Even though the ball feels light and heavy in his hands, he ignores the feeling and throws it accurately towards Yui, who catches it with a sound of astonishment.

"Wow..."

"Cool, right? There was an MLB catcher who occasionally used this position back in the 80s" —Eijun tells Yui while slowly correcting his mistakes in the stance— "his name was Tony Peña. Dominican. Four-time Gold Glove winner. But he used the position with no runners on base."

"Then why isn’t this stance more popular?"

How much Eijun wouldn't give to tell him the same answer Animal-san gave him back then? But he's seen enough time travel theories and documentaries to know that he shouldn't reveal everything he knows.

"People fear what they don't understand. You were reluctant to learn until I explained why I wanted to teach you. Isn't it?"

The boy is a little embarrassed but accepts his explanation.

"Aside from the things I can correct you, remember that your stances adjust to you, not the other way around. I'm sure you know many more comfortable stances, so you don't have to force yourself to use it if you don't want to. It's like the other's stances, another option, another weapon in your arsenal to defeat monsters."

With that, Eijun has nothing more to teach Yui. The boy's own judgment and instinct must now work to win the upcoming fights.

And even though Eijun had already made peace with this a long time ago, he's still sad about the news he has to give them now. Masamune may have been very clever, but he overlooked a particularly important detail.

High school classes start on the same day as the boys' finals.

Eijun steps away from Yui and Shoto. He lets the kids practice the two techniques he taught them together and can't help but smile when Shoto notices that his inside pitches are more stable.

Hearing the boy's cheerful "Osh!" every time Yui catches a pitch in the strike zone, reminds Eijun of happier times.

"They have great talent, don't you think, Ei?"

"Of course. I'm just a little sad that I won't be able to watch their final game."

Masamune's sudden presence no longer gives him goosebumps or makes him jump like a cat. The man just adjusts his glasses so the supernatural glow they always have shines through.

"A small error on my part. I have to admit it, when I checked the calendar again, I could hardly believe it."

"Is that so? That's very unfair of you. You put me in a very bad position with the boys."

"Mmm... To be honest, I was hoping that somehow you'd want to stay an extra day to see them. So, you could be with them at the game."

Eijun understands, he does.

If it was an anime and he was the protagonist, he would accept it and stay. Surely, if it were an anime, Eijun would choose to stay in Sendai with these kids who love and adore him, to try to fix the problem he has with baseball; to heal his heart and mind. To remember the love for the sport that is his profession, the sport he has practiced all his life...

But this is not the case.

Eijun can't stay when he knows that his presence changes things for better or worse. He can't when the weight of Erick's necklace on his chest reminds him that if he's going to change anyone's life, it has to be Eijun's own and no one else's.

He doesn't believe that he can fully heal if he stays. While there's pride in teaching, Eijun still has the frustration of watching them play and practice. He continues to sense the ball as something extraterrestrial. Something he can't hold on to for long because the discomfort it causes him is too much and he can't stand it.

Holding the ball means replacing anyone who catches for him with Erick and that... that...

It's so unfair. It's so horrible.

Painful.

Even though he knows that these children obviously don't have the same ability as he does, he can't help but get frustrated when they can't keep up with his thoughts, even though Eijun was just as insufferable in his youth.

Does that make him a hypocrite? Perhaps.

But as he learned long ago in America...

What adult isn't a hypocrite?

His Aibou comes to his mind.

Yeah, he's right.

Erick may have been the only one not wearing a mask for the rest of the world.

"There's no way I can convince you to stay, or is it?"

Eijun just shakes his head with a sad smile.

"Masamune san... what I need isn't here. I still have an obligation to my relative in Seido, and because of the distance, it would be best for me to look for a job there. I know you said the landlady would charge me half of the rent, but my savings can only help so much."

"Your relative... is almost the same age as my son... I guess he likes baseball too since he goes to Seido, right?"

"He's a baseball idiot—" He laughs nostalgically, remembering that even if he liked the sport, the Eijun Sawamura of the past only pitched for the sake of pitching and didn't even know the basics of the game. "—he's a pitcher too, so maybe one day he'll face your son."

Does this count as foreshadowing?

Masamune simply bursts out laughing, drawing the attention of all the players to them.

"HA! What do I see? A challenge?"

"Maybe."

"You're quite a case, Sawamura Ei! I'll make sure you don't regret your words!"

"I would never do that."

The heat of that day is ideal. The shouts of the children running through the fields, the sound of the balls being caught make him close his eyes to remember the same actions he used to do.

By the end of the day, Coach Masamune has gathered everyone together for one final announcement.

Eijun takes a deep breath as he steps forward and adjusts his cap.

"Are you still angry, Shoto-kun?"

"Very much!"

Kaoru can almost see smoke coming out of Shoto's nose and ears as he receives the ball. They're the first ones out for the match and if he's honest, Kaoru is a little worried about his teammate's performance.

The news from a few days ago did not sit well with anyone.

Surprised faces, disappointed faces, and incredible calmness on the part of Sawamura-sensei were the highlights of that day.

Learning that coach Sawamura was leaving was a hard blow. Whether he wanted to or not, Kaoru had seen the man win everyone's hearts in record time. Including his own.

He's not going to say that he doesn't feel disappointed or sad either, because he does. But he supposes that his latest teachings to them make much more sense now.

“For Koshien. For your future games.”

“It’s not fair… How dare he walk into our hearts and leave us so easily?” Shoto mutters as he throws the ball again. It has a good trajectory. A proper inside strike.

"That's life" Yui replies while softly shouting that it was a good ball, "I'm sure he didn't do it with malice. You heard why he left."

'I have a brother I'm looking for. I want to find him. I want to reunite with him after looking for him for so long.'

That's what Sawamura-sensei said. Kaoru can't quite relate. He's an only child and the closest thing he's ever had as siblings has always been his younger Kohais. But he understands his coach. He's been separated from his family and wants to reunite with them.

“Where will you go?” someone asks with genuine curiosity.

“To Tokyo,” Sawamura-sensei replies. “Near a school called Seido.”

"But he's going to Seido! Everyone knows that Seido is one of the best baseball schools! He must have gone to coach them!"

"That still doesn't affect us, Shoto-kun. So, what if Sawamura-sensei goes as a coach for them? He needed to reunite with his brother, and he taught us a lot of things. It's not fair for you to antagonize him now."

Shoto throws again with force, his face hidden in the shadow cast by his cap.

Kaoru thinks that maybe, Shoto cried a little as he wiped his face with his free hand.

"It's just… I just wanted him to see us at least one last time…"

Kaoru stands up, abandoning the ball he just caught in favor of going to Shoto and gently squeezing his shoulder to give him some comfort.

"Sawamura-sensei said he would watch us on TV. So, if he will see us he will see you too."

Shoto can only give him a kind smile.

Before the announcer starts the game when they have been formed, Shoto whispers something to him.

"When I graduate from high school, I'll go to Seido" Kaoru sees no doubts on Shoto's face, but a fire burning brightly in his eyes, a clear goal. "I want to continue learning from Sawamura-san. I want… I want to be the best pitcher in Japan."

And Kaoru, even if he doesn't answer why they have to move on to start the game, can't help but agree. He smiles because now he sees that Shoto is just frustrated.

And he doesn't blame him, he also wants to continue learning from Sawamura.

He wants to be a player that Sawamura-sensei would be proud of. After all, Sawamura never doubted him and instead encouraged him to follow his dreams. He told him not to give up and to keep going.

Kaoru wants to become the best catcher in Japan.

But also, he wants to help him. Kaoru never had the chance to talk to Sawamura-san about his panic attack because when it seemed to be the proper time, Sawamura-sensei always changed the topic.

Kaoru not only wants to be the best catcher, but he also wants to be a person his sensei can trust.

Maybe there's something really wrong with Eijun if it was so easy to say goodbye.

Years ago, when Eijun left Japan for the United States for the first time, he almost didn't get on the plane. He delayed as long as he could to see his family, his grandfather, one last time.

Eijun got on the plane only when he saw his grandfather's intention of slapping him if he kept making excuses to stay a little longer.

Although that would be unfair. Eijun didn't feel any pain or something like that because he was careful not to get involved with any of the children. Yui is an exception, Eijun has 'known' him longer and knows that he will see him again eventually, not as his kohai, but as an adult towards a child.

Eijun settles into his seat on the train to Tokyo. He was lucky to get a seat before the whole carriage filled up. The piggy bank weighs on his arms, along with a suitcase borrowed from Masamune to hold the few things Eijun managed to buy during his temporary stay.

"Is it okay if I take this?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

It's not much; another change of clothes, a Yankees cap that he's wearing now and drew another look and an obsessive laugh from Masamune when he bought it. Also in the suitcase are some sunglasses, courtesy of the kids.

“Please keep them!”

Maybe it was a joke of fate. So many years of making fun of Kataoka for his glasses and intimidating appearance, only to finally get one and look intimidating. All that's left for Eijun is to copy Kataoka's way of combing his hair.

In fact, he just imagined it and a shiver ran through his body.

'I would really look like a Yakuza!'

“I really appreciate it… But did they have to be circular? I feel like an anime character…”

“The sunglasses must be intimidating!”

“Anime characters are great!”

“Shades must match turbo grandma!”

“I’M TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OLD!”

Eijun can't help but snort in amusement. Sendai's children really are something else…

Taking out his phone—carefully, even though smartphones are already normalized, Eijun tunes in to the channel that will broadcast his children's final. Although he unfortunately can't afford wireless headphones and his phone doesn't have an auxiliary input, he has to watch the game without sound.

From time to time, Eijun receives curious glances at his clothes and face. He's aware that so many years living in America have changed his body language (even before he left, Eijun was always more vocal and expressive than the average Japanese) and some of his attitudes, but since the children never cared, it's now strange to hear the murmurs about being hafu or a foreigner.

So, he concentrates even more on the game, he pays attention to the plays and thinks about what he would have done or what signals he would have given the children to help them. His thumb goes to his mouth to bite his nail while he ignores the murmurs around him.

Part of him hopes to enjoy the game, take pride in his child's plays, and share their sorrows when something goes wrong. That feeling of hoping that whatever was wrong with him was only temporary and not lasting.

But the more the game progresses, the more he realizes that this is not the case. Eijun is still indifferent, he still doesn't like baseball. He's still as apathetic as when he watched Seido's game.

He doesn't know how to feel about it. Not when he's well aware of his current feelings about the game.

But it's one thing to know that he hates baseball and another to accept that fact.

It feels like going back to the yips. The frustration of not being able to do something you had been able to do for a long time from one moment to the next.

But it doesn't happen from one moment to the next. It's something that has been brewing for a long time.

And it's not like Eijun can't play baseball. He can. He can play. But doing so brings hollowness to his stomach and a kind of exhaustion that he can barely handle when he watches others play. As if they shouldn't have the right to do so.

How is it that they can play and Eijun has to face these feelings that consume him? What exhausts him? What frustrates him? What makes him envy those bright looks of fun and competitiveness?

It feels wrong. These sentiments have no logic at all, and yet Eijun can't control them or get rid of them.

And though he did everything he could to get away, the universe seemed to conspire to bring Eijun back to baseball one way or another.

Some kids are asking to play in a park. A man who is the father of one of the best pitchers of the future in Japan, who has a good eye and realizes that he's a professional by just catching and hires him to coach juniors. Juniors where one of Eijun's Kohai is and who shouldn't be there because apparently, the mere fact that Eijun has traveled to the past is all it takes to create a butterfly effect for several things.

And perhaps, that is what he's most afraid of.

He probably changed the fate of Masamune Hongo's parents, Eijun saw Seido lose a game that in its original timeline won, and Yui is enrolled in a different institution in middle school.

The thought of what else has changed frightens him.

What if it turns out that my younger self didn't go to Seido? He thinks about it.

But considering the universe's not-so-subtle signs for Eijun to go to Seido, he'd like to believe that's not the case.

Eijun continues to watch the game, his head leaning against the train window; watching a close game in which Izumi Club and Yokohama Little are still tied 0-0 in the top of the fifth. Masamune-san must not have been late in changing Shoto-kun and Yui-shonen when Yokohama Little changed their starting lineup an inning earlier.

In all the time he has watched them play, the only times he feels that love for the sport, that happiness, that pride; is when he sees clean plays, when they catch difficult fly balls, when a double play happens or a play they have been practicing since Eijun came to train them... He feels pride when he sees Yui do the stance he taught to catch Shoto's inside pitches.

He has to admit that it was fun to see the surprised faces of the opponents. This type of shock when you face something that was not in your plans.

It's inevitable that his conversation with Kataoka and the answer he gave come back to his mind. A conversation that still haunts him, no matter how many years have passed.

Yes, Eijun went to the second game, but he knows very well that most of his praise and good wishes were not sincere. He did it because it was what those children needed, not because it came from his soul. From his heart.

If only I had dared to talk to Yui-shonen about it, Eijun thinks sadly.

Yui was by his side when his panic attack happened, and he didn't want to talk to the boy about it. Adult problems are adult problems, he knows. But at least he would have told Yui that it was a special situation.

But what did he do? Change the subject and walk away. While it made him feel good at first, he's now drowning in guilt when he remembers his last conversation with Yui.

"Are you upset, Yui-shonen?"

"I'm not" answers at the same time as Yui hit a ball, " Is just... I thought you would told me before anyone else, sensei."

Silence is between both and Eijun doesn't know how to break it. It feels like somehow, he failed Yui.

"Did coach Masamune also know about it too?"

"He knew it before I came here."

"I see..."

Another hit, another ball rolling away. Eijun had words on the tip of his tongue, but Yui talked first.

“Are you sure you will be okay, sensei?” asked Yui. His brown eyes really reflect great concern towards him, but Eijun can only tousle his hair a little and smile calmly.

“You don't have to worry about me, Yui-shonen. I can take care of myself.”

Of course, Yui doesn't look at him. He has his cheeks puffed out with a grimace on his face.

“Can I at least have your Line?" Yui asks as he puts his bat aside.

“Sure.”

That's why he didn't stay to watch the last game either. How could he when he knows he can't support them or cheer his kids sincerely? How could he support them when animosity spreads through his heart when he watches them play?

Eijun can't do that.

You can't do that to these kids who really enjoy and love sports. It's very difficult to lie to them when everything they do is with pure sincerity.

At least in Seido, with teenagers, Eijun could lie better. He could swallow his negative feelings better because teenagers already have enough to deal with without looking at others and asking the right questions.

The game lasts quite a while. Surprisingly, it goes into extra innings when the score is still 0-0 in the bottom of the sixth inning. Even if both teams are sweating buckets, no one wants to give in even a little.

It's inevitable that by the start of the seventh inning, Shoto and Yui will finally be substituted. They've done a good job and Eijun has also spent his fair share of time training the relievers to be sure that they'll be up to the challenge as well.

If only Eijun had taught them more too…

No, no. His mind says. You can't. You can't change things any further.

Yui was an exception that will never happen again. Because the only one he can change is himself. His younger self.

The game also helps him not to think about how he's going to archive that.

In the end, Yokohama Little wins. A defensive error leaves the Izumi Club with the bases loaded, but they have two outs, and the ninth batter has full count. Eijun stops breathing for a moment and tenses up. As if the slightest movement he makes will affect the outcome.

The ninth batter, Shiro, hits a long ball that has a good trajectory, but it's a fly ball. A fly ball that lands softly in the left fielder's glove before the runner on third can even get to home.

At least, Eijun can be happy that the slight sadness he's feeling isn't fake. It's sincere.

Izumi's lineup is a sea of tears when they form. He can't hear them, but Eijun doesn't need to know what they're saying when their faces and thick tears already speak for them. He quickly opens his Line and picks Masamune's name.

He can't help but pause for a moment. Eijun doesn't know if it's right to send a message in this situation.

But he had promised. He said he would write or call him when the game was over. And maybe Eijun has become a good liar, but he still keeps his promises.

The broadcast ends with the teams saying goodbye to each other and thanking the audience as the train finally arrives at its destination.

Eijun pushes past the people around him to get off at Tokyo Station. A place he has been to so many times before and now returns to as a stranger, as if Eijun had returned to his first-year body and only didn't get lost at the station because he had Rei-san to guide him.

Eijun takes a few deep breaths as the memories flood to his mind before continuing on his way, avoiding any passersby who might yell at him for standing in the middle of the street looking like an idiot.

But just as he looks at the clock on his phone and thinks that enough time has passed for everyone from the Izumi Club to be on the bus, Eijun dials Masamune's phone.

One ring, two rings. He continues walking until he reaches the exit and moves away from the group to reduce the noise when Masamune finally answers on the sixth ring.

"Ei-san..." the man mumbles and Eijun leans against a wall while he waves.

Maybe he's being rude, but Eijun learned a long time ago that it's better to be direct than to beat around the bush. They're kids, of course, but they're not stupid.

"I'm almost sure I'm on speakerphone, right?" Eijun said with a soft voice, hoping that the kids were listening to him and his tune gave them some comfort, "I've experienced the same thing. I also cried in my own games, I also got frustrated because I did not win, and also... my dreams were shattered."

His phone is silent, but Eijun can hear light sobbing.

"You know, losing isn't that bad. It's a learning opportunity, even if it's a bitter experience... I can't take away the loss you suffered today, but I want you all to know that I watched every second and minute of your game. I watched every hit and every pitch you threw, and the only thing I can tell you is... I'm proud of you guys. I am."

And that's not a lie. Eijun is proud. He is. Whether he wanted to or not, he left a mark on them that was reflected in that game.

Maybe, only if Eijun hadn't been afraid...

For a moment, he feels like he said the wrong words when he hears even louder sobbing. Eijun is about to apologize when Yui's voice rises above the others.

"Thank you... Sensei" he says with a strange tone. Maybe Yui cried with the others, maybe he was strong and swallowed his tears until Eijun said what he thought, "You don't know how much these words mean to us."

"Thank you, Sawamura-sensei!"

"Thank you!"

"Turbo Grandma! We'll win the next tournament!"

"Damn it! Yay! We'll win the next one!"

"Just wait! You'll see us in Koshien!"

Sure, it's not Koshien as such, but for them, it might be as well.

Most of the words he has to guess from the sobs and the explosion of strength and courage. Eijun hears so many promises that now it's his turn to be silent, while a slight smile appears on his face.

Did my Aibou feel this too? Did he also feel that strange sensation in his chest?

Maybe.

"I'm going to watch them," Eijun promised. "I'm going to watch every single one of your games, so I hope you all surprise me."

With that, Eijun continues walking until he finds a taxi and asks to be taken to Kokubunji. He listens to how some children who were sad now feel more cheerful and renewed.

The last promise he makes to them is to take them out to eat all they want if they win.

Eijun arrives at his destination surprisingly quickly.

With his cap and sunglasses on, he steps out of the taxi with sincere thanks as he looks at the apartment Masamune san has arranged for him.

The building is neat. Painted with a friendly white color and balconies for each of the apartments. To be honest, Eijun was expecting something much more modest, but instead, he got a surprisingly good apartment.

And with the best and worst of all: close to Seido. Eijun could practically see the school on the pathway, and it squeezed his heart in such a way that. For a moment, the courage to go and observe the practice that was about to begin vanished.

If his calculations were correct, it would take Eijun about fifteen minutes to walk from here to Seido.

As soon as he enters the building, the landlady, a middle-aged woman, greets him with a friendly smile.

"Sawamura-san? You look just like Masamune described! Come, come! Let me show you your new home!"

Hinata-san speaks very quickly and loudly. She has a lot of energy that Eijun would like to have right now to climb the stairs and face a 19.87m2 apartment.

If Eijun is honest, the place feels almost as claustrophobic as his cubicle at the Internet cafe. His apartment in America was definitely bigger and... emptier. But he hoped that one day he could convince his Aibou to share rent with him.

He wanted to tell him when they finally won the World Cup, but... the opportunity never came. Not with the bombshell Erick dropped at that moment, not when his Aibou's return to Mexico became inevitable.

"What do you think?" Hinata asks directly to him, and Eijun sweats coldly for not paying attention.

"It's perfect," he mumbles as she quickly looks around, "I like that it already has a separate kitchen and bathroom, and... I've never lived in an apartment with an extra floor inside."

"Ho! You're going to love the bath! Masamune said you play baseball like a pro! I hope you'll invite me to your games, young man!"

Eijun can only laugh nervously. He really thanks his kids for the shades that hide his cat eyes when he's nervous.

"Could we talk about the payment?"

Eijun practically thanked God that Hinata did not question the change of topic.

"Of course! Look, Masamune paid you three months' rent. I owed him a huge favor, so instead of charging you 51,000 yen a month, it would be 31,000, okay?"

Eijun can't complain. The place was already relatively cheap, and thanks to Masamune's promise and his influence, it's even cheaper. Eijun could start tutoring again now that the rent has gone down from $326 to almost $200.

Of course, he has to think of a way to thank Masamune for the three months of free rent. With what he has saved, he can buy a good futon for now and a table to eat at.

"There are no curfews or anything like that. You can have people over as long as you don't make noise that disturbs your neighbors, but we don't allow pets. Is that clear?"

"Like glass."

Hinata-san doesn't seem to have anything else to say and leaves him to unpack (not before giving him the keys). It's not like Eijun has much to take out, but at least the apartment has a closet. The only thing that bothers him is the "floor" above the kitchen, where he knows he will have to sleep.

A small ladder helps him climb up, and it's considerably larger than the Sendai cubicle, so he can lie down completely and sit up with room to spare, but he still doesn't like feeling so cramped, so small, and confined even though it has a small window to the outside.

Eijun takes a deep breath.

Beggars can't choose.

On the other hand, what he likes most is the balcony, which he can access from the kitchen and the bathroom. The balcony doesn't feel stifling, it feels great to receive the warm breeze and the best thing is that there is a chair to sit on. Eijun also spotted a small television as he was putting his clothes away and noticed a microwave and a small refrigerator when he continued to inspect the kitchen.

It's not a bad place. He can live comfortably here.

Looking at his phone, he noticed he still had two hours before Seido training started. He could use that time to buy a futon and a week's worth of food at a nearby store.

Blessed be technology. Eijun thinks as he watches with tears of joy as his MAPS app works to give him a walking route.

And just like he arrived earlier than expected, Eijun does his shopping with impressive speed. Although people look at him strangely because of his American clothes and his strange round sunglasses, they become very friendly as soon as they hear him speak.

A cozy futon and a soft pillow are placed in his little prison and his food is fresh in the refrigerator. He's saved some money, but Eijun doesn't want to go crazy until he has a steady income.

"The table and chairs can wait" he mumbles to himself. "I don't mind the window in my room, but it would be nice to put a little curtain there in the future."

His hand trembles slightly, he's been going around in circles as the time approaches. Eijun doesn't want to regret it, he's no coward. His grandpa and his parents didn't raise him to run away from his problems.

But it's Seido.

Seido.

Could anyone blame Eijun for being afraid?

So, he inhales deeply, counting to ten to clear his mind and lessen his nervousness. He doesn't eat because he feels like if he has anything in his stomach right now, he'll throw it up the moment he sees the school's baseball field.

I can do it. He tells himself as he walks out of the building,

I can do it. He tells himself as he walks with his cap and glasses on and the warmth of the Tokyo sun greets him once again, touching his skin as if it were the first time he had come.

I can do this. He tells himself as he finally sees the training grounds and the familiar sound of aluminum hitting hard balls grows louder and louder with each step Eijun takes.

I can do it.

I can.

I can do it.

I…

There's a crowd nearby. Much smaller than when Eijun was in his third year of high school. Adults and seniors who came to watch the Seido team practice out of nostalgia or because they once played in those training camps in their youth.

Don't overthink things, Erick would tell him. The worst thing you can do is overheat your brain, Ei.

But what could Eijun do but think? Standing frozen so close to the huge green fence, watching the kids scream with passion, swinging their bats, catching, and throwing balls, celebrating when they get strikes. Those on the bases, or those running around in rhythm.

The picture... no. Seido stabbed him right in the heart and left him without air before Eijun could even defend himself.

It's an even more deadly wound when he sees Kataoka very close to him, talking to two men while on the bases are his former senpais.

Eijun watches as the older Kominato makes a play with Kuramochi to get an out in record time at home. He hears clearly how his former coach talks about them and considers both the key to victory.

There's another stab in his chest when he hears Isashiki scream and send the ball from center field to home with a clean and powerful throw.

There's another wound when he sees his former captain Yuki. And hears Masuko's batting in the distance.

Is this what it feels like to be stabbed?

Eijun isn't a coward. Not when he's so close!

He bites his lips and concentrates on taking another deep breath. He counts to ten again, trying with all his might to stay on track.

But it's inevitable. He suspects. It was doomed from the beginning.

What prevents Eijun from closing his wounds in time, what makes his bleeding continue and not be coagulated and stitched; is Miyuki's voice. So familiar, so...

"Nice throw!" Eijun hears him shout. "It would be even better if you could keep it low!"

That's it. Eijun can't stand being here anymore. There's a bitterness in his mouth that tells him what a good idea it was not to eat, otherwise he'd throw up his food right now.

But before he can take a step back, before he can run away so he doesn't see any of them, a hand rests on his shoulder.

"Hello!" A man and an old man stand beside him, both greeting him with such thick accents that Eijun blinks in confusion. "Are you new here?"

When his brain finally understands what's going on, Eijun just gives them a nervous smile.

"I'm not a foreigner," he tells them, earning a nod and a sigh of relief from both of them.

"Thank God, my English is very bad. Sorry if we surprised you, it's just that we couldn't help but see you. You stand out a lot, especially when no new people have come to the training sessions for months."

Eijun sweats coldly. He already knows this, but he was hoping to blend in at least a little more.

"No... don't apologize..."

"Well, do you mind if we take you with us?" the old man asks with a smile. "We came to see Seido's new harvest, but my son barely knows the basic terminology here, and my eyesight is already bad. I saw your Yankees cap, so I figured you must know quite a bit."

You have no idea, Grandpa, Eijun thinks wryly.

"Hmm. It would be nice if someone who knows about this would explain to my stubborn dad how good the first years are. I do what I can, but the truth is that baseball was never my thing" the son says, embarrassed.

Eijun nods. Maybe this is what he needed. Even though he still feels nervous and even with the imaginary knife buried in his chest, the bleeding has at least stopped.

"It would be… yeah… I would like to help you."

They walk a little to where training camp B is. Nostalgia invades him a little when he sees all the first years running.

If Eijun thought he had been prepared to see his former senpais, no amount of mental preparation is enough when he sees himself.

It's like having tunnel vision. Nothing matters more than that little figure dragging a tire along with an angry expression that betrays the intention of speeding up.

His thoughts get out of control.

What will happen if I call him?

Will the universe collapse if we meet?

Will the timeline be erased if we touch?

Will I disappear? Will he disappear?

He doesn't know the answer and he doesn't want to find out. He wants to leave before he feels even worse.

I wasn't ready. I wasn't!

He feels very hurt just by seeing them. He feels on the edge of a cliff where he wants to run away and never see them again. He feels angry, sad, confused...

Lonely.

Eijun should love himself a little more. Look at his former teammates, at Haruichi. At Furuya. At Kanemaru. At Tojo. Kariba. At...

But no. He can only look at himself with a strange feeling. He already knew that he didn't belong here. That Eijun shouldn't be in this world, in this timeline... seeing his younger self only strengthens this feeling.

Eventually, Kataoka returns to the first year. He takes pity on them enough to let them have an hour of actual practice instead of just running around in circles, which everyone takes advantage of by eagerly grabbing their baseball equipment and releasing energy that came out of nowhere.

If Eijun remembers correctly, Kataoka never allowed the first years to do anything but run around for the first few weeks (except for himself, Furuya, and Haruichi when they were promoted to the first line). And frankly, what he sees...

It leaves him disappointed.

And what did you expect?

I don't know.

It's like watching the kids from the Izumi Club. But where Eijun's brain saw innocence and clearly knew that they were children and that he shouldn't expect too much from them. Seeing Seido's early years leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

They are bad.

Unbelievably bad.

Some have decent techniques and stances. Eijun knows that, with time, they will all improve and become monsters on their own.

But to see Tojo with such a... weak? Mediocre pitching? Was that how he made it to the finals in middle school?

Seeing Haruichi with his endurance problems and some bad batting stances...

Kanemaru hitting so bad.

Furuya throwing pitches so high and obvious that Eijun could even hit them with his eyes closed...

And most of all, to see himself pitching without pitching motion, without any concrete and correct form. Without any stable pitch and just randomly holding the baseball ball in the hope that something will happen and still being so happy and proud of it.

Maybe his face shows displeasure if the surprised faces of the father and son who dragged him to Camp B say anything.

"Uh… well... what do you think?"

Eijun doesn't even let him continue with the question. He answers immediately with a deep and disappointed voice.

"They are bad," he mumbles as if he had the right to criticize them.

"What?"

"I mean, they have potential," he adds immediately, remembering that as a baseball professional, he shouldn't be so harsh, "but they have a lot of shortcomings. Ka- the coach will have to train them very hard if he wants to get something out of them in the future".

Something in his answer makes the old man think, but the son doesn't seem to agree.

"Huh? Don't you think you're being too hard on them? They're kids just out of middle school! Besides, I don't actually think they're that bad if two of them made it to the finals of the middle school tournament."

But before the son could say more, his elderly father interrupted him.

"No, Sora. The boy's right," he says as he approaches the green fence, "don't you remember the inter-squad? The Third Years defeated them without mercy."

"But Father!"

Eijun lets them argue as he looks back at his younger self. It's strange to see himself like this, to see what everyone else could see from a different perspective. His younger self is more energetic, yelling a lot and getting overexcited when he throws.

So... I didn't make it in time to see the game against the upperclassmen...

And even if he had arrived in time, what would Eijun have done?

Nothing. He wouldn't have done anything. Eijun would have just watched the game in silence, from a distance.

Eijun grips the green fence with one hand, squeezing the thin metal bars.

How can he get close to his younger self without seeming so... suspicious? Eijun highly doubts that he can even get close to his younger self during the day before other students notice him or the school guards ask questions that, even if he answers, will only take one phone call home to send him straight to the police.

Or worse, the mental hospital.

If he's caught, what will he say? What comes from the future? He'd thought about this before, and in his mind, no scenario ended well.

Maybe I could approach one of the guys, he thinks. I could put on a lost face and drop little hints that I'm looking for someone until someone notices how much I look like my younger self.

Maybe it would work. But Eijun knows that anyone other than Miyuki Kazuya or the older Kominato brother won't have the brain cells to put two and two together. That's what baseball idiots are like. That's what he was like until he grew up.

"Boy," the old man says, and Eijun turns to look at him, "would you measure what defects they have?"

"Do you really want me to?" he asks uncertainly. The last thing he wants is to have overprotective adults hovering over him. "I'll annihilate them if I start talking."

But the only thing he gets in return is a laugh that draws everyone's attention.

"I don't have a chicken heart. I want a massacre, and something tells me you are the one to start it."

"Father!"

"Shut up, Sora! Can't you see? This boy is not an ordinary man!"

Eijun is afraid to ask what the old man means. But finally, he shrugs and takes a deep breath while adjusting his shades.

Maybe he needs it. He's alone, with two strangers, where one wants to hear a destructive criticism of Seido and Eijun isn't afraid to fulfill his wishes. He wants to get out the frustration he's been carrying since his life was taken away.

It doesn't hurt anyone to have an opinion.

"Do you want me to talk only about the first years, or about the others as well?"

The old man just smiles mischievously.

"Surprise me."

And Eijun does that.

He's so lost in his thoughts and analysis of what he's seen so far, his memories, and the Senbatsu match he witnessed with Yui that he doesn't notice three very familiar figures standing curiously near him.

He doesn't even notice that he has formed a circle of indiscreet people around him as if his opinion is so important from one moment to the next.

"I've seen Seido's match against Ichidai," Eijun decides to start easy, he doesn't need to tear them apart right away. "I have a lot to say about that. Seido's lineup is pretty good, it really lives up to the school's reputation of having heavy hitters, but..."

Eijun doesn't mince words when he points out the mistakes he saw in the game. He tears Kuramochi apart—without saying his name, just his number because that would be suspicious—by pointing out how useless it is for him to switch sides in the batter's box when his batting average is much better when he hits from the left side.

"Why is he doing that? He's a teenager, so I think he does it because he thinks it makes him look cool or something like that. He has a good start when it comes to running the bases, he's very fast. But it's no use having that speed if he doesn't have good contact to make a decent hit and get to first base although... I have to admit he's very good at stealing bases and his mental is high."

He doesn't have much to say about the older Kominato with the exception that he's stubborn. He's a fearsome hitter who frustrates pitchers by hitting them where it hurts the most. Eijun knows that the same stubbornness led Kominato to keep quiet about his injury, but since it hasn't happened yet, he doesn't mention that detail.

"The third batter doesn't think when he hits. He's not bad, but it would be better if he used his brain a little more instead of just thinking about hitting the ball as hard as he can. It works, but it also results in a lot of easy fly balls."

Just like Kominato, he can't say much about his captain. Yuuki is... Yuuki, Eijun even knows that even Miyuki in his third year couldn't reach the same level as his former captain, and even when they both turned professional, Yuuki was always considered better in terms of RBI and batting average.

"He gets confused sometimes," he says. "Against Ichidai, he stood frozen, undecided about where to throw the ball until his catcher yelled at him to throw home."

"The fifth batter...he should eat less. But I guess it's okay if he can burn his calories efficiently. He makes very small but basic mistakes. He needs to practice fielding more because, against Ichidai, I saw him miss textbook plays."

It's Miyuki's turn. And, for a moment, Eijun is silent. Miyuki is always... a sensitive theme. Sometimes he's just dazzling with his talent, sometimes the good memories outweigh the bad ones.

But Eijun is here to take revenge, to tear him apart. The fact that Miyuki is already famous can give him the perfect excuse to say more because everyone will think he's following his career.

"Miyuki Kazuya doesn't give a hit when there are no runners on base. He's very arrogant and will make aggressive plays... but I've noticed that he does them just for the sake of being overly aggressive. He tends to ignore his pitcher's mental state even when he has enough information to know when to stop. When he doesn't get along with his pitchers, his synergy falters tremendously. The battery he formed with the Ace of Seido in the Ichidai game was pathetic. It made me want to cry just watching it, and instead of Miyuki calming down his Ace, the pitcher on the mound seemed to be more frustrated with every timeout and aggressive play Miyuki calls."

Eijun wants to talk so much. Tell more. He wants to talk about all of Miyuki Kazuya's failures until he remembers how unfair he is to him.

This is not the Miyuki Kazuya he knows. At least not yet.

One of the things that, even after years, he could never forgive Miyuki for was when he let Yakushi treat him like a ball-throwing machine. He respects Miyuki, he does. Eijun knows the skillful player Miyuki is and how brilliant he can be.

But when he was finally able to let go and make a name for himself as a catcher and a pitcher, he was finally able to see his battery with him in a different light. Having Erick as a catcher also helped him see Miyuki in a different way, with the bandage finally off his eyes and without the emotional influence that the phrase 'work of art' had left on him.

Sure, Miyuki was teen. He was young, he made mistakes like everyone else. Miyuki always had a lot of pressure on his shoulders, and it was only in his third year that he was able to open up to others and show weakness. To show that he was also a hard worker.

But Miyuki is a liar. A freeloader. Miyuki will always sugarcoat his words to get what he wants or he's direct and tactless. There's no middle ground.

“I’m waiting for someone,” Miyuki once said in an interview and the media went crazy because Miyuki Kazuya decided not to go into the professional world after leaving high school.

And Eijun, like the idiot he was, had allowed himself to hope.

What a fool I was.

When Eijun saw him with Narumiya Mei at that charity match between Japan and the United States, the feeling of betrayal he thought he had buried long ago came back with force, rage, and venom. His thoughts could only focus on how much it hurt to see them. How much he wanted to run away from there. Leave.

If it weren't for Erick, Eijun would have collapsed on the mound that day.

And so, even though it was a charity match, something casual, something to have fun with... Eijun did anything, except enjoy it.

He crushed them with his pitch because the last thing he wanted to see in them was their annoying smiles.

Sure, he was scolded by his coach for overexerting himself when the start of the high season was so close and they needed him in the best possible condition, but even so, the faces of Narumiya Mei and Miyuki Kazuya, when they realized what was happening, were priceless.

A perfect match against Narumiya Mei and Miyuki Kazuya, the best battery in Japan. The favorites of the world at that time.

Eijun blinked quickly when he realized that he had been silent for a long time. He just clears his throat and stands at attention to give the impression that he was only thinking about the seventh batter.

But at this point, he doesn't have much to say about the last three batters in Seido's lineup. Shirasu is reliable, but not as reliable as in his third year, and Tamba... Eijun could tear Tamba apart, but...

He no longer feels like going out and talking. He feels tired and shaky. He wants to go home and sleep. He wants to get away from Seido for a moment and breathe.

Instead, he focuses on the early years because his thoughts about Miyuki Kazuya and Narumiya Mei are tearing him apart. Lately, it's very easy for his mind to wander. It's very easy for Eijun to fall and very hard to get up again.

And this time, Masamune-san isn't here to put him together.

The medallion on his chest feels more present than ever. Heavy.

"I... “I think it's better to leave it here" he mumbles, bringing his hand to his forehead as if his head would really break at the slightest breeze "I should wait to see a little more of the first years before saying anything more concrete."

Eijun tensed and his entire body felt a deadly chill as a familiar voice answered.

"Hmmm. That's a reasonable decision. Don't you think it should apply to us as well?"

The... crowd? That had formed suddenly made way for three people he knew well. The familiar pink hair from the older Kominato along with an expression that pretended to be calm. The curious beard and the angry face of Isashiki who was about to explode, and the calm look of Captain Yuuki with his intimidating aura greeted him.

Although greeting is not the right word.

If it weren't for the shades and the cap he's wearing, everyone could practically see the color draining from his face. He wants to leave. He has to leave.

Eijun is such a fool. He can barely stand seeing them from a distance! He had no intention of talking to anyone from Seido today!

Stupid. Stupid Eijun!

Calm down. You have to calm down. He tells himself this when he feels his heart beating too fast. Count to ten. Do it.

Unconsciously, a hand goes to his chest to grab Erick's medallion, hoping to hold something comforting. Something to ground him and prevent a panic attack. Masamune isn't there to help him pick up the pieces, isn't there to help Eijun hold on to something familiar and safe.

Please give me strength.

Kominato was the one who spoke and Eijun knows him well enough to know that his calm expression and his frightening smile only hide how upset he really is.

He can't break down now. Eijun takes another deep breath and closes his eyes for a few moments. He imagines himself on the mound, Erick standing next to him, whispering the evil plan he's come up with to annoy the opposing team's batters.

But Erick is pushing him to be himself, and Eijun can't be himself. He can't. If he's himself, he will break into a thousand pieces at first word.

“A pitcher doesn’t show his emotions. A pitcher should be calm and collected. Not a single emotion should filter through your head when you pitch, or you’ll get destroyed. This ain’t Japan, kiddo, this is America. This is the MiLB. Get that straight.”

Heartbreaking words from years ago, the first words that shattered all the confidence he had gained in high school. Words that haunted him and frustrated him for a long time, adding to the guilt he felt for dragging Chris into his problems. His shisho didn't deserve this when he had worked so hard to rehabilitate himself and Eijun came to put obstacles in his way.

Yes... he understands. It took him a while to understand and to do it, but he did it. He listened to the words of the coach he didn't get along with, and he felt accepted by the team when he was able to keep his emotions in check on the mound.

He succeeded, even though in the end it hurt him and separated him from his Shisho by his own choice.

"Why should I?" he answers calmly, with well-played confidence. A makeshift mask with many cracks that keep his emotions in a fragile balance; but enough so that he can at least face them, even if their first impression of him has already gone down the drain. "It won't make a difference in the short term. It would be easier to see the improvement when the summer tournament starts.”

It's always strange to wear a mask. Feeling so different and seeing the world from a unique perspective. He can almost feel Erick's concern about wearing it. His Aibou never liked it, always looking uncomfortable when they saw him so empty on the mound.

When was the last time he used it?

Obviously not in his last few games. He thinks with cynicism and sadness. Maybe he wouldn't have traveled back in time if that had been the case.

Isashiki practically bellows, if he doesn't attack Eijun, it's because Captain Yuuki is holding him tight "Are you kidding me!? Did you come here just to insult us?"

"This grandpa asked me to criticize you destructively, and that's what I did."

"And who gives you the right? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT US OR OUR GAMES! I BET YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO PLAY BASEBALL!”"

Eijun can almost hear his mask cracking. But not for the right reasons.

If there was one thing that always bothered Eijun, it was people questioning his ability, his skill to play baseball. Anger rises in his stomach.

Eijun should calm down. He is an adult here. He's twenty-five years old.

Isashiki doesn't even know him and has no idea about Eijun's dilemma with the sport. He doesn't know, he just spouts out his feelings like he always does.

Eijun is just about to ignore him and go to his apartment when Kominato sneers.

"I bet he can't even throw a ball.”

That's all. Fuck any self-control.

The mask cracks. But instead of letting out all the fear and anxiety Eijun was trying so hard to keep inside, he spits out frustration, anger, and not-so-serious death wishes against the man who was once his superior.

“Oh? Do you want to bet that?”

The change in his tone makes Kominato frown and his mocking smile disappears. As if he had miscalculated. Even Yuuki realizes that something is not going well, and his previously terrifying aura disappears.

Of course, anger doesn’t allow Isashiki to think with his head. He’s more concerned with defending his pride and honor than reading the environment.

"Let's keep it simple," Eijun says with a fake smile and all his will to not split venom. "Me against the entire Seido lineup, pitcher and catcher included. A five-inning simulation."

“HA!? And why should we-!?”

“If I let even one runner get on base, I'll grovel and apologize.” Eijun continues speaking as he ignores Isashiki shouts. “I'll buy you whatever you want for the duration of the school year.”

The benefits seem to catch the attention of the three boys, and a murmur erupts from the crowd. The benefits seem to catch the attention of the three boys and cause a murmur from the crowd around them. Out of the corner of Eijun's eye, he sees the old man struggling to keep from laughing, while his son seems to be deciding whether to faint or intervene.

“But if I got two runs, you'll apologize to me and owe me a favor in the future. Each. One. Of. You.”

The three teenagers look a little confused as if Eijun had told them a bad joke.

"Two runs?" Kominato says while Isashiki grits his teeth. "Are you suggesting—?"

"If that's what you heard, that's it," Eijun interrupts harshly. "I suggest that we fight through the baseball and not with our fists, as your dear friend plans to do. Unless the first string of the almighty Seido is a bunch of scared children."

That seems to do the trick. If they try to bully and provoke him, Eijun can do the same.

He has the means and the talent.

He holds out his hand to the children, a simple symbol of closing the bet.

But Eijun doesn't extend his hand to Kominato or Isashiki. He extends it to Yuuki, who has been the only reasonable one of the three during the whole exchange. The boy looks at his hand for a few moments before accepting it with a slight squeeze.

“First of all, I would like to apologize for Isashiki and Kominato” Yuuki says neutrally, earning an angry shout from his partners, “it was not right for them to approach you like that.”

Then Eijun feels a slight pressure on his hand. An aura full of determination appears on Yuuki, ready for the challenge.

“But I can't accept that you criticize us like that just because you watched one match and a training session. I assure you that Seido is much more than what you see.”

And Eijun... Eijun can't get any angrier. All the anger and annoyance he felt vanished in an instant, at Yuuki's honest words full of faith and blind trust in his teammates.

In a way, it's nostalgic.

“Give us a few minutes to brief the coach and the other players in the first string. I'm sure we'll all see something interesting today.”

Isashiki murmurs something under his breath; low enough not to be heard by Eijun, but high enough to get a disapproving look from Yuuki and a cheeky grin from Kominato.

With that, their hands are released, and the three teenagers calmly return to the Seido fields, Eijun even sees how they easily find Coach Kataoka and point him out from the distance.

Eijun takes a deep breath. Now that things have cooled down, he can only agree with Erick and everyone who ever called him Bakamura.

Listening to the old man's loud laughter and the excited murmur of the people around him, he can only cry in silence.

How can I be so stupid?

After all, it doesn't do him much good to be a functioning adult if the provocations of a couple of teenagers are all it takes to throw his non-existent plans out the window and rush headlong into danger.

Forgive me Grandpa, your grandson is an idiot!

He can hear Erick's ghostly voice in the distance, trying to comfort him

Chapter Text

"Really?"

"Really."

Rei can't help but concentrate on not laughing when she hears Yuuki, Isashiki and Kominato's story. While Coach Kataoka still has his arms crossed and his face shows a mixture of disappointment and disbelief at the behavior of his star players, Rei knows that they have caught his attention.

The professional silence between them is not so thick as to be uncomfortable. Still, she and Kataoka expect more details from the three boys than a simple "we got into a fight with a gaijin and now we have to play against him for our honor".

In other words, it's not every day that a stranger comes to challenge Seido's best players. Even if the reason was that those very players provoked him in the first place.

"I'm sorry to put you in this situation, Rei-san, Coach Kataoka," Yuuki says sincerely, "but I didn't expect Jun and Ryosuke to be so..."

“What do you mean you didn't expect it, Tetsu!” Isashiki shouts at the top of his lungs while kicking the ground with his feet, "Didn't it bother you that he talked about us like that? About Seido?”

"I didn't say that you don't have the right to be angry, Jun. But do you want to provoke every person who speaks badly about you? That man just did what that grandpa asked him to do."

"I don't care what he asked that Gaijin to do! We'll destroy him! He'll regret asking for a match against us!"

"It's not technically a match, Jun," Kominato says with a small smile, but Rei is observant enough to know that the boy is not happy at all, "just a batting simulation."

While Isashiki and Kominato argue, Yuuki still keeps eye contact with Kataoka; determined to have this strange duel with the supposed foreigner.

If you ask Rei, she doesn't see anything strange about the man from a distance. He looks normal, only his clothes are very American and the depressive aura around him doesn't give him a good first impression.

“Are you sure you want to do a batting simulation with him?” she asks, adjusting her glasses. The stranger seems to be on the verge of collapse, if the constant mumbling from him is any indication.

“He started it!” Isashiki excuses himself, "The least he can do now is beg for mercy in the face of his impending defeat!”

Silently, Kominato seems to agree.

Rei almost wants to laugh because this is not something she sees every day. She can't even remember the last time the Seido kids were this angry about criticism. Especially since she knows that a Tsundere grandfather always comes to watch every game the school has.

“Well, if that's the case, how about I do some legwork and find out about our unexpected guest?”

That seems to do the trick. Both Kominato and Isashiki stop for a moment.

“I don't think that's necessary, Rei-san," Kominato says, "We'll beat him.”

“HUM! We will do it!”

Rei simply refuses with a smile.

“Well, you still have to show him hospitality.” A foreigner doesn't come from so far away just to watch high school students practice, and from what they said, he may be that good if he can criticize them so harshly.

“Tsk! Anyone can criticize!”

Rei simply turns away from them as she gazes at the poor man they challenged. The foreigner has not moved from his place; sitting on the earthen floor with his back leaning against the green fence as he mutters words in English at an incredible speed that Rei can't even translate. The sunglasses on his face make it even harder to read him.

The depressive aura around him is so thick that Rei announces his presence by clearing his throat a little.

The man jumps like a scaredy cat and looks at her with his mouth open in surprise.

Even with the sunglasses, the man doesn't look very good. He has a very unkempt little beard and his hair, even hidden under the Yankees cap and tied with a yellow garter in a low ponytail, looks like a bird's nest.

“Good afternoon," Rei begins professionally, pushing away any prejudice because he knows nothing about this stranger, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience our players caused you. I hope you will excuse them; they are teenagers who have very intense emotions for the sport they love.”

For a moment, the man's lack of response makes her doubt whether she should have spoken to him in English. She didn't think it was necessary, knowing that Kominato, Yuuki and Isashiki spoke to him with no problem. The three of them aren't exactly good at other languages, if their near passing grades in English had anything to say.

She’s about to repeat what she said in English when the man takes off his sunglasses for a few moments to carve his eyes with his arm.

“I’m sorry," he says calmly and politely, his voice sounding altered for a few moments before the man rises smoothly from the ground. Only then, Rei can see how tall he is. “I should be the one to apologize here, I'm the adult and I let some kids bother me.”

Now that he has taken off the round sunglasses, Rei cannot believe that this man is a foreigner. His face, his eyes and the accent he has when he speaks. Everything indicates that he is Japanese.

But...

This man... why does he seem so familiar? Have I seen him before?

His eyes are by far the most interesting thing about him. A warm honey color but darkened and lacking the light that Rei usually sees in people.

Rei would remember something like that. There's something about this man that makes him instantly recognizable.

It's like seeing a reflection of the old Chris in them.

The man holds out his hand and Rei looks at it for a few moments before accepting it. It’s a very western gesture, in fact the whole-body language of this man is western as he opens his eyes in surprise, aware of what he has just done and again, he apologizes as he bows slightly and moves a little further away from Rei.

It makes no impression on her per se. In a way, she is used to it because her work has allowed her to interact with all kinds of people. But she does not doubt that everyone would have been offended if their personal space had been invaded.

“You don't have to do that with me," she says quickly to save him embarrassment, "I'm just here to greet you properly and to check if what our guys are saying is true.”

“Ah... the... the... the batting simulation?”

This man is surprisingly shy. As if talking to her would require the effort of climbing Mt. Fuji. Not at all what she expected, the kids described him differently.

“That's right. Do you agree with that? I understand if you said it in the heat of the moment. If you don't want to play, I can tell the coach, and we'll pretend it didn't happen.”

Her words seem like a glass of water to him. But as quickly as his eyes express hope, the gleam is gone, replaced by something Rei can't quite identify. The man soon puts his sunglasses back on as he looks in the direction where coach Kataoka and Yuuki are standing.

Curious. She thinks. For someone he has never seen before, he seems to have the right people in place.

“No, it's okay," the man says almost in a whisper, he sounds tired, "I was the one who suggested the idea. I have to take responsibility for my actions.”

Rei smiles kindly. Maybe she should insist a little more? The tiredness in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by her and she doesn't think it's a good idea for him to face Seido's entire batting line-up like this.

“Are you sure? We can reschedule it for another day. If you're not offended, you don't look good.”

“No! I mean... it's... it is not... it's not necessary. I'm fine, I just didn't expect to get into a situation like this so soon.”

Rei can't help but raise an eyebrow at that last comment.

“Since that's the case, it would be nice if we could get to know each other. My name is Takashima Rei. I’m a scout and recruiter for Seido. Although I can't speak for the boys, I have to agree with the words of our captain, Yuuki-kun. Seido is more than what you have seen in two games, I assure you.”

The man remains silent, his sunglasses slipping slightly as the stranger looks down, avoiding eye contact. The color in his eyes is back, but it still lacks that sparkle, that sense of life.

The man seems lost in his memories until he blinks and looks around discreetly.

“I... should I get ready? I have my baseball stuff at my apartment and...”

So, he plays.

“That won't be necessary,” Rei says confidently while adjusting her glasses, "Seido can lend you the equipment you need, although unfortunately we can't do that with the uniform.”

“No problem.”

The man seems very reserved, almost afraid. He’s probably a very nervous person, and normally Rei would have liked to give him his space, but at the rate they are going, she will never get his name.

“Excuse me. Could you tell me your name first? I don't think I can call you Foreigner-san in my mind anymore," she says jokingly to lighten the mood.

The man again takes a while to answer, but finally a sigh and a not-so-casual adjustment of his cap to cover part of his face as he speaks.

“Ei. My name is Ei.”

Rei finds this rather suspicious. But she reminds herself that even though this man has Japanese features and speaks the language very well, he’s still an American. He probably lived in Japan for a while before moving to the United States for most of his life.

And from what he has learned from his interactions with Western people, it’s not common for them to give their full name or even their last name. They just give their first name without any problem.

“Nice to meet you, Ei-san. Would you like to follow me so that I can take you to choose a glove?”

Of course, Ei-san just nods and follows her without asking any questions. It’s deliberate for her to take the long way so that everyone can see him, specifically to visually tell Coach Kataoka that Ei is committed to doing the batting simulation. It is also intentional that she does it at a slow pace so that she can show off Seido's facilities and begin to change his mind.

It's childish, but Rei also has pride in this school that she needs to protect. Just like the children who train here, she doesn't like it when they talk bad about Seido without really knowing them.

Of course, anyone would be amazed to see Seido's facilities in person, but Ei-san seems so distant and aloof. Completely indifferent to the wonders Seido has to offer in terms of training.

Is he used to better facilities?

When they finally get to where all the equipment is stored, Rei shows him all the gloves they have.

“Since it's a batting simulation. I assume you play as a pitcher, or am I wrong?”

Ei just nods indifferently as he checks various gloves. He checks both lefties and righties, and that ignites the recruiter instincts in her before she remembers that she’s looking at a young adult from out of nowhere, not some high school kid who caught her eye.

“Can I take the one I want?”

“Of course.”

Ei then picks up a brown right-handed glove. It looks a little worn and Rei makes a mental note to tell the managers to check the gloves for replacement if necessary.

All the bats are in use, so they leave the warehouse to find the first string already assembled in the A-field.

Of course, if looks could kill, Ei-san would already be ten feet under. The man pauses for a moment, probably surprised that everyone is looking at him with death wishes along with the thick auras they release to intimidate.

“Rei-san!” Miyuki calls from a distance. There's a confident smile on his face and for once, the whole team seems to agree to let Miyuki get on someone's nerves, “that's Gaijin-san next to you?”

Ei seems to tense up a bit and Rei realizes that the man probably already knows what that means.

“Miyuki-kun, I would appreciate it if you could avoid using that word while our guest is here. It is rude.”

Sure, Miyuki apologizes, but she doesn't do it sincerely. As soon as the two are close to each other and the trainer, Rei speaks again while pointing at the foreigner.

“Answering your question. Yes, this is Ei-san and he’s ready for the simulation. As far as I know, it's five innings. Ei-san will pitch against you in three and bat in two. Is that correct?”

Both Yuuki and Kominato nod. Isashiki snorts through his teeth, but in the end he also nods.

“I know everyone wants to play, but we have a little problem. You see, Ei-san is a pitcher and needs a partner.”

Obviously, Ei hadn't thought about whether the slap on his face is any indication of how poorly the situation was planned by him. Rei could laugh, but she doesn't want to embarrass the man any more than he already is.

Miyuki raises his hand and waves it exaggeratedly to get everyone's attention. Some of them give Miyuki a deadly look, annoyed that the catcher wants to play for Seido number one enemy.

“Put your hand down Miyuki!”

“Do you want to die, Miyuki? We will gladly bury you!”

“Why are you so afraid of me? A catcher like me can only do so much, guys. Who am I and our guest against all of you monsters?” The sneer in his voice only makes the others gnash their teeth.

Before the first string goes against Miyuki, who obviously enjoys the chaos and finds humor in Kuramochi grabbing his shirt and lifting him off the ground, Ei speaks up.

And boy, does it show.

“I don't want you to catch for me, Miyuki Kazuya.”

Ei's answer is so deep and dry that it silences everyone. Miyuki even blinks in confusion before he looks at Ei, who is looking at everyone in the first row with tired eyes.

Ei seems to take a deep breath before he speaks again, suddenly looking nervous as he jumps slightly like a cat and looks around, "I mean…! Can I choose my catcher? It wouldn't be fair to Miyuki-kun not to have a break between innings.”

Miyuki and the other boys look confused. Rei herself is surprised; not by the fact that Ei knows about Miyuki, but by his reasons for rejecting him.

He’s quite considerate.

To a certain extent, Rei understands why they are so surprised, she can count on the fingers of her hand how many people have refused Miyuki to catch their pitches.

“Rei-san, do you mind if I choose my catcher?” Ei says, ignoring all the murmuring.

Snapping out of her surprise, she replies while adjusting her glasses...

“Well, it's not up to me, Ei-san.”

Rei looks at Kataoka out of the corner of her eye. The coach still has a serious posture and crossed arms. Ei seems a little hesitant to talk to the coach.

Although it doesn't seem necessary, Kataoka speaks first.

“Why don't you want Miyuki to be your catcher?” Kataoka's deep voice silences everyone, Rei can even see how the first years gather in a corner. Curious.

Ei's answer is calm, although he does not look into anyone's eyes and the ground seems to be more interesting, the man does not stutter.

“How can I put it...? Nothing against Miyuki-kun, it's just that I think... it's too much for him. Haven't they just finished training?”

Rei watches how the first-years try to disguise that they are watching them, especially Sawamura seems to push through the crowd of rookies next to Furuya to watch the spectacle. It doesn't help that he is so loud that Ei-san turns around to look at them.

The first-years stay still, as if Ei is some kind of Tyrannosaurus Rex and they have to stay still to avoid being eaten, just like in the movies.

Before Kataoka can speak, Ei calmly approaches the first-years. The children jump like frightened cats for a moment and then stand still like statues as the foreigner seems to look them up and down.

Sometimes Ei-san stops at certain people to analyze them and then continues. He’s not interested when he passes Furuya or Sawamura, they are easy pitchers to recognize, but Rei wonders what he saw in the others.

However, passing on the new rookie pitchers seems to annoy both Furuya and Sawamura. Especially Sawamura seems to want to throw himself at the foreigner, only to be stopped by the smaller Kominato.

Ei continues to watch himself at a slow pace until he stops in front of one of the boys. The poor boy with the spiky brown hair and thick lips that Ei chose as his victim is sweating like never before. Ei-san seems to think for a moment before speaking.

“Can I see your hands? Ei asks kindly, his voice in such a soft tone that it surprises the first years and makes the boy blush, causing him to show his hands without any resistance. Without warning, Ei gently takes hold of the boy's hands, who seems about to faint.

Ah, it's Kariba. Rei recognizes him. He came to Seido by applying for Seido’s entrance test, and if she remembers correctly, he's a catcher.

But...

How did he know that?

The freshmen don't have their equipment anymore and it's hard to tell the catchers from the others. It is no coincidence that Ei gets close to this boy.

Did he know him?

“You're a catcher, right?” Ei asks the boy, releasing his hands and giving him a gentle smile. Kariba, on the other hand, moves away from the stranger, uncomfortable.

“I-I am!”

Ei's smile remains warm, and he doesn't seem bothered by Kariba's physical rejection.

He seems melancholy than anything else. His once soft smile turns a bit sad before he speaks with an energy he didn't seem to have before.

“I knew it! You seem like a person that catches balls, your hands are big and have certain calluses that only catchers have. Tell me, what's the fastest ball you've ever caught? Catcher-kun.”

It's... interesting to see the change. Ei seemed to be nervous all the time. Almost to the point of collapsing from a nervous breakdown. Rei just thought he was very bad at socializing, an introvert and maybe a submissive person, considering he doesn't dare look her in the eyes either.

But now he talks to this first year as if he has known him all his life. He seems comfortable and relieved, so much so that he reaches for Kariba's hands again.

“Uhh Furuya’s balls?”

“Fu— Furuya? Is this a new speed measurement?”

“No, of course not!”

That poor first-year is now the one who seems to be on the verge of collapsing now. One of his classmates saves him by saying that Furuya's pitches are about 145 km/h.

Ei doesn't seem impressed. Though he looks in the direction of the two first-year pitchers for a few moments before turning his attention back to Kariba.

“Tell me, Catcher-kun, would you like to play against the first string?”

Chapter 5: Gaijin

Perhaps all hell broke loose on earth, because Wataru has no idea what motivated him to accept the proposal of the Gaijin, who is now helping him put on his protective gear.

Maybe it was the confidence with which he spoke to him, maybe it was the small compliment to his hands or the fact that Gaijin said his whole being screamed 'catcher'. 

“I apologize in advance for dragging you into this," says the stranger with a melancholic smile on his face, it's still strange not being able to see his eyes and therefore feeling a little disconnected, oblivious to what this man is thinking, "I guess I just couldn't help it...”

 While Wataru doesn't understand what the Gaijin means by that, he shakes his head.

“Don't worry. If I hadn't wanted to, I would never have accepted.”

“I know," the man says, "what I'm trying to say is that you're a kind boy for agreeing to be my partner.”

With his catcher's gear on, Wataru looks over to where the first rope is forming. All the third-years have terrible faces that promise death and pain for all eternity to him for agreeing to catch what looks to be the school's public enemy number one from now on.

Wataru swallows hard. 

“So, you've only caught balls up to 145 per hour but this... Furuya... Does he throw anything else? Or is it just fastballs? Doesn't it hurt to catch for him?”

Should I tell him that, or is it considered divulging Seido's secrets? Although all Wataru knows, Furuya-kun only knows how to throw fastballs.

“Just fastballs, Sir. It doesn't hurt much either, although, well..." Wataru can't help scratching his cheek a little, embarrassed, "I can't catch them very well either. Eight out of ten balls thrown by Furuya-kun escape me.”

His manner of addressing the stranger seemed to make him jump in horror more than his fact about catching for Furuya.

“Sir? —Oh! Ugh... can you... can you just... not call me like that? You make me feel older; I'm only twenty-five...”

Wataru almost wants to bury himself in a hole, He didn't know that! The man looks older because of his unkempt appearance and his unkempt beard!

“I'm sorry!”

“No, no! Don't worry about it. Just call me Ei, like everyone else.”

Wataru sighs and ruefully gives his name as well while looking back at the others.

“Are we really going to play against them?”

“Yup.”

“May I ask how this happened?”

“They doubted my abilities and in the heat of the moment I challenged them. Do you think I was too proud? Or are they the ones whose pride is sky-high?”

Wataru is very doubtful of this question, Seido has very talented and good people. He doesn't think that the arrogance of the first stringers is just that. He has seen them in their games and practice, they can back up that pride.

He can’t assume anything from Ei-san. Common sense tells him that there must be something about this foreigner that makes him challenge Seido with such certainty of winning.

Can you blame him for being doubted? He knows nothing about this man.

Ei-san also seems to be watching her senpai. The shades he wears prevent Wataru from fully reading his expression, but not from seeing a grimace accompanied by a sigh.

“Well, we still have a few minutes before we start. So, I want to talk about what we’ll do, is that okay?”

Wataru blinks several times. If he's honest, this is the first time a pitcher wants to talk to him about strategy; in middle school, the coach usually decided these things.

But he is a pitcher, right? He has to be.

“I think it's a little obvious, but of the two of us, I feel like I have the most experience. But that doesn't mean I can't make mistakes. Kariba-kun, would it be okay if I lead the battery most of the time?”

And Wataru... Wataru doesn't know what to say.

That is to say, when he was in middle school, the pitchers he caught did the same thing; leading the battery and pitching what they wanted to pitch despite the coach's suggestions. Wataru just limited himself to catching the balls that came in, even if they weren't thrown where he asked.

But it's one thing to be resigned to it, and another to be asked nicely.

“Believe me when I tell you that I'd love to show you several pitches, but I honestly think that just throwing fastballs will suffice. I'll leave it up to you to decide where you want them to go. Is that okay? Although I'll shake my head if I think where you put your glove is a bad place. We're both in the same boat of going in blind against them, I don't think you know their batting habits yet.”

This man... no, Ei-san is very kind. Thoughtful. Even though Wataru didn't teach him any of his skills, Ei respects him. He treats him well just because he is his battery partner.

But... is he really going to play only fastballs?

Is it typical for foreigners to be like that?

“That’s okay...!” Wataru says as loud as he can, making Ei laugh a little.

That laugh is so nice to hear.

“Don't be so tense!” Ei says as he slaps him hard on the back, "Think of this as a unique opportunity! You are now technically the most experienced first-year ever.”

“Of course! I-It's not every day you get to play against the first string!”

With that in mind, Wataru walks like a robot and with great effort towards his place in the bullpen because he is so tense.

He can't help but envy Ei-san, who is cool as a cucumber in this situation.

The man soon comes up to him at 18.44 meters, tosses the ball into his right hand several times, and catches it with ease. Wataru notices how the man stares at the ball with a frown on his face as he lightly squeezes it.

“Those are hard balls, aren't they?”

“Hai”

Still, it is as if there is something strange about the ball. Ei moves it in different directions with his fingers, looking for something that Wataru cannot notice.

“So, Kariba-kun. Tell me..." -Ei looks at him instead and Wataru can't help but feel equally if not more intimidated, “are you ready to create works of art with me?”

And with those words alone, Wataru already knows that he sold his soul to the devil.

The whistle blows and everyone on the first line takes their places, and Yoichi takes his first turn at bat, grinning broadly as he patiently waits for the freshman catcher and the foreigner on the mound to finish their conversation.

Yoichi would probably feel sorry for the freshman; the poor guy has barely gotten into Seido and is already under the monstrous eyes of the third-year students who defend Seido tooth and nail.

But Yoichi can't blame them. He would do exactly the same.

“Kuramochi!” Yoichi doesn't even have to look at the owner of that voice to know who it is.

“Shut up, Miyuki! You wish you could bat without the bases loaded!”

Miyuki's chastened laughter only increases his anger and the need to give him a good smack to shut him up. Although that would be rather sad. The Gaijin practically bet on a perfect game, and to end it in the first inning in the first at bat would be very humiliating.

Yoichi watches them warming up. You can tell that the first year is nervous when he doesn't catch several balls even though they were thrown with the speed of an elementary school student.

Otherwise, Yoichi doesn't see how this stranger could be a problem for them and wonders how Ryosuke lost his temper against him.

“Do you feel less tense, Kariba-kun?” the gaijin speaks calmly while receiving the ball. The poor first year, on the other hand, looks as if he wants to throw up the three cups of rice he will barely be able to finish at dinner.

“Uh... Kataoka-san, can I talk to Kariba-kun for a few minutes?” he says, earning a simple nod from the coach.

Yoichi watches as the gaijin approaches... Karita? (Kariba!) as he puts a hand on his shoulder. He watches as the foreigner encourages the first-year to do something and in the blink of an eye, Yoichi sees them doing a breathing exercise.

The Gaijin uses his hands to simulate the inhaling and exhaling motion in his chest, which Kariba follows to the letter. They both take slow, deep breaths until the color returns to the first year's face and the Gaijin pats his shoulders with a reassuring smile.

To tell the truth, Kariba looks a lot better and repeats the exercise a few more times before putting on his mask and the Gaijin told him something before trotting back to the mound.

The whistle blows again and Yoichi walks to the batter's box with his favorite bat. The gaijin has a right-handed glove, and Yoichi gives him one of his best hyena smiles before standing in the left box and taking a slight setup swing.

The first year's nervousness is even more noticeable now that he’s so close to him.

“Relax, rookie," he whispers to keep Kataoka from scolding him, "it's just a batting simulation. You don't have to be so nervous about playing against your upperclassmen.

“I'm not nervous, senpai,” Kariba can't say more when the gaijin throws the ball.

The start takes time. The Gaijin uses the maximum time allowed to agree to a start that Yoichi thought for a moment was all nonsense. That this man was a dog that barks but doesn't bite.

That's why when the Gaijin finally moved to start...

Or well, Yoichi wouldn't call it "pitching".

"What in the..."

There's no proper stance or intimidating aura; it's just a ball thrown upwards at such a low speed that Yoichi doesn't hit it well due to the sheer surprise of being hit by such a pitch.

A fucking meatball!

In fact, Kariba looks surprised as well.

“Foul!” calls the coach, handing another ball to Kariba, who throws it to the gaijin.

Anger explodes in Yoichi and the rest of the team.

“You're making fun of me? WHAT KIND OF PITCH WAS THAT!?”

“What the hell?”

“That's what you call pitching!?”

“RYOUSKE WAS RIGHT, YOU DAMN GAIJIN! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO PITCH!”

The diamond practically fills with boos and catcalls that don't seem to affect the Gaijin at all. In itself, it's as if he's ignoring them all as he adjusts his cap and glasses while smiling as if nothing bad is happening.

“I'm sorry, Kariba-kun! Are you calmer now? I just wanted to take some stress off you.”

“E-Ei-san! I'm fine now, really! You shouldn't waste your throws like that! —You should at least let me know!”

But the Gaijin simply smiles a little before settling back into a position more familiar to Yoichi. He swings his bat twice before positioning himself comfortably in the batter's box, anger coursing through his veins along with slight humiliation at receiving such a stupid pitch.

Yoichi watches as the Gaijin nods at a sign of the first year and, unlike the first pitch, Yoichi can see hints that this time the pitch he will have is real and out of inertia, he smiles again.

His smile is wiped off his face when he can't see the Gaijin's arm and the ball is already shooting towards him. A sudden nervousness overcomes him and by reflex, his bat automatically moves to swing.

That's…! 

The ball passes under his bat with a large distance between them in the blink of an eye. The sound upon impact against the mitt is comparable to that of thunder. Clean and full of power along with a promise to destroy everything in its path.

PAM!

“STRIKE!”

What speed! 

Yoichi is practically sweating, his heart beating so fast from the speed he has just experienced that all the anger I ever feel against this pitcher is gone and has been replaced by fear. 

Yoichi can only imagine how the others feel now that he only hears the murmurs of the first-years.

“Oi, oi. What was that!?”

“It's a fastball, isn't it?”

It's just a pitch. One.

And yet... Why does Yoichi have this feeling that everyone has made a big mistake?

“Nice ball!” says Kariba as he returns the ball. The man on the mound smiles at the first year before returning to a neutral expression that now, for some reason, intimidates him.

It's like watching Coach Kataoka pitch. But at least the coach's sunglasses aren't so dark, and he can see his eyes when he needs to.

This guy's shades are black, can he even see with them?

Focus, Yoichi! he says to himself as he takes a few more practice swings to release the tension in his body before settling into the batter's box, Pay attention! Don't get distracted! So, what if he's fast, just hit it and get on base!

But just like the previous pitch, Yoichi doesn't even see the Gaijin’s arm come out properly before the ball is thrown. And this time, his whole body is the one that moves only when the ball goes so fast that he recoils in fear of being hit by a dead ball.

Of course, when his butt is on the ground and Coach Kataoka yells "Strike," Yoichi knows he has messed up big time.

“—BATTER OUT!”

Kariba helps him to his feet, but other than feeling humiliated, his mind is only on the pitch as he looks at the stranger. The man just stands there, on the hill. Immovable, like an intimidating statue.

He almost feels insulted when the man says nothing. But that would be unfair. The foreigner pitched in the strike zone; the ball barely grazed him; he doesn't have to apologize for Yoichi's overreaction to his intimidating pitch.

Fast.

Was it really a strike?

It passed so close to me... I thought it was going to hit me!

Is his control that good?

Yoichi looks like a zombie when he comes back to the dugout. He can barely warn Ryosuke that you can't see the foreigner's arm before the ball comes out.

The other team members surrounding him and Yoichi can only watch in silence. His captain's aura of determination shines through as he also watches the upcoming pitches intently.

“How is his pitching?” Masuko asks.

“It's like a bullet, literally.”

“Strike one!” Coach Kataoka's call grabs everyone's attention. Ryosuke looks rather annoyed in the batter's box, if his scowl is any indication. Yoichi sees him shake hands before getting back into position.

“It seems to be faster in the batter’s box.” Tetsu-san said.

“Yeah… you can't see when he releases the ball. His arm comes out late, and by the time it comes out completely, the ball is already in the catcher's mitt...”

“STRIKE TWO!”

Even outside the batter's box, the pitch feels menacing, terrifying.

“Foul!” the coach shouts. Ryosuke was able to contact the ball but ended up sending it behind him and into the green fence.

For Yoichi, this is the moment when Ryosuke becomes the pitcher's worst enemy. His friend is so annoying, he has a good eye for weak pitches and uses them to mentally wear down the pitchers, that's the way he plays the game, and that's why he can't help but get up from the bench to cheer him on.

“Come on! Bring it on! Show what Seido is made of!”

“Ryou-san!”

“Smile, senpai!”

The others follow. The cheering seems to help Ryosuke relax enough to show his usual smile and not clench the aluminum bat so tightly in his hands. Cheers, shouts and applause can be heard on the diamond to the point where even the first years are supporting him.

Yoichi doesn't want to look at the foreigner, but his eyes unconsciously go to the man. He remains unperturbed, even though his serious face cannot be read through the round sunglasses; he doesn't seem to care that everyone is against him as he lowers his cap slightly and prepares to pitch.

The sound of the foot against the mound, the arm that comes out late and finally, the ball that comes out shoots as fast as that of a pitching machine. It has the trajectory of a straight line down the middle of the strike zone.

A fastball. It's a fastball Ryosuke, let it fly!

But before you can celebrate Ryosuke's victory, the ball does something unexpected. Something a fastball shouldn't do.

The ball, just as it approaches Ryosuke's height, “breaks” as he swings. The first year catches it with a clean, loud sound.

What... What kind of pitch is this?

“STRIKE THREE! —BATTER OUT!”

Ryosuke stands for a moment in the batter's box, his smile gone as he looks at the foreigner with a face that tries not to reveal how annoyed he is. But Yoichi can feel the frustration pouring out of him.

To add more salt to the wound, the foreigner raises his right hand with his index finger and little finger raised.

“Two out, Kariba! Let's keep it up!” He says in a happy tone.

The first year seems to want to stay in the mood, but can't help but shrink and raise his hand in fear to replicate the signal when Ryosuke's murderous aura kills any chance of feeling happiness.

Well, Yoichi is not so heartless to deprive a first-year of pride for participating in a match against his senpai.

You will pay dearly for it later. 

“Oi! Ryo-san, your aura is intimidating the first-year, get your ass out of there and get back to the dugout!”

Ryosuke ends up heeding, returning with his lips pressed tightly together in what appears to be an attempt at a smile; with his hands clenching his bat as if he wants to strangle it and an aura that screams 'danger' to the four winds.

“It's like facing a pitching machine," Ryosuke says with controlled calm as he enters the dugout, "a lively and very accurate machine. His pitches are heavier than expected and feel faster in the batter's box than they actually are... they also… move so weirdly. I can’t describe it better than that and that’s only for the fastballs.”

Wait...

Are you implying what I think you are?

“Did you get a good look at that last pitch?” Tetsu asks.

“No...it looked like a straight. It moved like a straight but when I swung to hit the ball... it broke, and it looked so far away from my bat...I've never seen a pitch like that before.”

From the way Ryosuke says it, it sounds alarming. Almost three years of high school baseball, and his senpai hasn't seen a pitch of that caliber?

“So even you couldn't hit them well, Ryo-san.”

“Be humble. At least I wasn't eliminated so easily.”

It's a hard blow to his ego, and Yoichi can't help but hiss at it, but in the end he can only snort as he watches Jun's turn and wonders if both he and Ryosuke are already aware that, perhaps, senpai’s bet won't pan out.

Stop! Don't think that! That's three-batting innings for Seido against two for the Gaijin! We can still win!

That's the correct thinking, at least until he sees Jun strike out swinging three times at the wrong time. An out in record time that happened in three blinks of an eye and an oversight of his mind for overthinking.

Jun returns silently to the dugout even though his face indicates all the rage he feels. White eyes, a huge grimace and heavy footsteps with his legs wide open as if someone had physically kicked his ass.

“Fastballs, fastballs, fastballs, fastballs..." Jun mutters with fire in his eyes as he grinds his teeth, "That Gaijin just used fastballs!”

It's as if Jun has fire in his feet. An imaginary fire that everyone can see.

“Jun, keep it up and you'll burn your beard," Ryosuke mocks even though his scowl makes him look angrier than usual.

“Swich sides!” shouts coach Kataoka, drawing everyone's attention.

Yoichi watches as the foreigner goes straight to Kariba. The first year takes off his mask to answer whatever they are talking about and finally goes to the rest of his fellow first-years who harass him with poorly disguised questions.

“Kariba-kun, tell us your secrets!”

“How does it feel to face the first string?”

“Don't you want water? Bring him water!”

“Ha, ha!” Miyuki's annoying laugh makes Yoichi turn to look at him. The bastard has a cocky grin and his catcher's gear at the ready, “Kuramochi, didn't you say this would be a piece of cake?”

“Shut up! When it's your turn at bat we'll see if you keep barking!”

“At least I won't freak out like you did. The look on your face when that fastball passed so close to you was priceless! I wish I'd taken a picture of it!”

“You have to admit that was a pretty scary face," Ryosuke adds. Yoichi doesn't think he could feel any more embarrassed.

“GAH! Get out of here now, Miyuki! Don't keep Tanba-san waiting!”

“I'll get you guys the first win! You don't have to thank me," Miyuki says arrogantly, grabbing an extra aluminum bat to take it home.

“Get out!”

Miyuki leaves before Yoichi can kick him for being so annoying. He really shouldn't have felt sorry for him when the foreigner didn't want him as a receiver. No, Yoichi should have laughed in his face and very viciously at his first rejection!

His anger didn't last long. It happens when he realizes that the bat Miyuki grabbed is for the foreigner, who just looks at the bat as if it were an alien thing from another world. 

Yoichi can't help but move a little closer, curious about that reaction because the normal thing would be not to question something like that.

But this man...

Apparently, he's not the only one curious. Not when the first-years also approach with caution and their ears have credited to ridiculous levels for listening.

"Are you going to give me an aluminum bat?” Eijun really has a lot of willpower not to run away or even worse, let his jelly feet collapse right in front of Miyuki Kazuya.

He's done a good job, really! His mask for the mound didn't break and even though he couldn't throw to Yui with all his force when they practiced, his right arm feels great when he pitches.

It feels so good that he has no problem moderating his velocity so as not to overwhelm his former senpais with pitches over 150 km/h. While his right arm has never reached its peak as a lefty, it is still a more than reliable weapon.

How fast am I pitching?

Maybe 140 to 130 km/h, maybe a little less considering the lack of training he had when he traveled back in time, but his pitches always had that particularity of feeling faster in the batter's box than they are.

Eijun might have more control and speed if he didn't feel the ball so heavy, as if he were throwing rocks instead of balls. The heaviness that has followed him since Erick left.

When the ball isn't heavier than normal, sometimes it's like grabbing cotton. It's frustrating. Maybe even more than when he couldn't throw inside because of his yips.

Eijun knows he has the perfect grip, the perfect power, and yet...

“Is there something wrong with it?” Miyuki says with the arrogance he used to have and snaps him out of his thoughts. Eijun takes a deep breath and tries to pass off his nervousness as simple annoyance.

Teenagers.

“Not at all," he replies, picking up the aluminum bat and playing with it, passing it from hand to hand to get used to the weight.

Major league baseball does not allow aluminum bats for the same reason teenagers and children use them. They are lightweight, hollow and stronger. The metal allows the ball to make better contact with the bat, usually resulting in the ball being hit much farther than usual and at disturbing speeds.

For kids and teens, even college kids, this isn't a problem. They have not fully developed their strength, and lightweight bats allow them to not waste as much endurance.

But at the professional level? Full grown adults with bats like this? Terror.

Eijun doesn't forget that a direct hit from a wooden bat is already terrible, he doesn't want to imagine what it would be like with an aluminum bat, where the ball travels faster.

Why did that happen?

“Trampoline effect, Ei," Erick says as he corrects his grip on the bat. Unlike his time in Seido, the wooden bats are so heavy that Eijun almost thought he would fall face first into the ground at the slightest inattention, “the energy generated from hitting the ball goes mostly into the bat as elastic energy; as you know, aluminum bats have thin walls that deform slightly when hitting the ball and return to their original position to send it flying. That's why!”

“How do you even know that? You said you didn't go to college.”

“I have a technical degree! Techn-ni-cal! And what right do you have to say that! I don't see your university degree in hand! At least I was very good at physics.”

“Ei-san.” The deep voice of the instructor pulls him out of his memories. Eijun blinks quickly to remember where he should be and with whom. He can feel Miyuki's confused look because he did not take a single step towards the hitting boxes, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine," he answers immediately as he turns to the left box. “I apologize for that. I was overthinking your ace's pitches.”

His answer is very dry and robotic. Eijun takes his position in the batter's box and forces himself to relax his muscles as he watches Tanba apply the rosin.

It's so strange to see him younger, with his hair intact when most of the time Eijun has seen him bald. He sees him nod at Miyuki's signals and for a moment, Eijun debates whether he should try to read them.

Their battery is terrible. Miyuki does his best to overcome it, but his coldness and indifference to Tanba's feelings is what breaks the fragile balance they can have. Even in a friendly game like this, Tanba frowns at Miyuki's signals.

Maybe even a little more than he remembers.

What if they get along even worse than I remember? Another change?

No, Eijun.

Concentrate. Look at the pitcher, look at his stance, look at .....

What if Chris...?

“STRIKE ONE!”

Eijun relaxes his stance as he looks down at the floor. One blink, two. He didn't even feel the ball graze him. A fastball.

“Nice ball, Tanba-san!” Miyuki said with a happy tone.

The ball is returned and Eijun forces himself back into a comfortable batting stance. Ghostly hands run over his body, whispers from Erick, pieces of advice from the past to improve his poor batting, which has improved a bit for his third year, but nowhere near as good as Furuya's.

“You suck at batting, Eijun, but don’t worry. Your good friend Erick will teach you!”

“I can do a god-like bunts, Aibou! I don’t suck at all!”

“Yeah, yeah. But you need to remember that Americans are very proud, Eijun. They don’t like to make bunts. They want to see great swings and cool hits. That’s why they don’t like Japanese baseball at all. Did you know that a long time ago, pro-players thought going to Japan to play baseball was some kind of punishment?”

“Ora! That’s bullshit!”

“Very much.”

Tanba steps hard onto the mound, his hand moving like a whip, his height benefiting the pitch. Eijun recognizes the pitch as soon as Tanba's hand is visible, and his index finger is up and away from the ball. The ball is thrown slowly that Eijun knows it will land on the ground.

He doesn't move and his knowledge proves him right when Miyuki catches the ball very close to the ground.

“BALL!”

“Come on, Ace!”

“Tanba! Make your pitches roar!”

“DON'T LET THAT GAIJIN BEAT YOU!”

Gaijin.

His grip on the bat hardens. The position of his hands shifts a little more toward the center, keeping a short grip.

Gaijin, gaijin, gaijin, gaijin, gaijin, gaijin, gaijin, gaijin.

I’m not a Gaijin!

Stop saying that…

Words hurt. They always have. And the way his former teammates treat him, even when he’s aware that they don't know him as such, that they are not the teammates he once shared the diamond with; they reinforce his feeling that Eijun has no place. They bring out a well-kept grudge in his heart.

Too American for them because of their personality and way of being, too Japanese for Americans because of his customs and work policy. For becoming what in Japan would have been their absolute acceptance.

Wasn't this what his coach had asked for?

Why is he now looking at him as if Eijun had grown another head?

“You shouldn't make a big deal out of it, Eijun," Erick always said. But it was impossible for him. Erick may have found it so easy to go out and ignore what people said about him, but Eijun did care. 

“You don't understand... It's so easy for you to say it!”

“Then help me understand! I can't read your mind, if you don't tell me what's going on, I can't help you. 'God does not hear those who do not speak, Eijun.'"

Tanba nods, gets ready again and this time, Eijun looks sideways at Miyuki. 

He sees him smiling. He looks calm, as if Eijun doesn't matter.

It's not the Miyuki Kazuya I know.

He's not the deceitful, silver-tongued, liar. He’s not the Miyuki who stayed with Narumiya Mei in NPB. He isn't.

There are not the people I meet before!

Tanba's foot rises, his right arm moves backwards.

But wouldn't it be great to teach him a lesson?

Show him what his shortcomings are? How small can you make him? How inferior is he compared to you? Bring him down from his cloud?

He’s a child. He's not the Kazuya I know, he's not... it wouldn't be fair to him or to Tanba!

Oh, Tanba. His senpai would be caught in the crossfire, would receive the brunt of the emotional impact of Eijun's actions. 

It doesn't matter. He wasn't fair to you, was he?

The mask breaks a little more, the ball comes out of Tanba's hand and is higher than normal. Another curveball and, this time, it goes straight for the strike zone. The ball moves slowly to his eyes and Eijun's iron grip on the bat loosens a bit.

Before his mind decides, his body does for him.

The bat makes good contact. The clashing sound between the ball and the metal is beautiful in a way that doesn't matter that the ball will end up going over the green fence, a nice home-run that had the misfortune of being in foul territory.

Eijun pretends not to see the slight surprise on Miyuki's face at the sudden change he made in his grip on the bat.

“FOUL!”

“Ah... I didn't hit the center of the bat," Eijun mutters.

But that's okay. It felt good to make that hit and corral himself into the count. It felt good to have something resembling a challenge after months of not hitting a decent ball.

Just for a few moments. That feeling that corrodes him, that abyss he is in gets smaller. He can climb it to feel good.

Eijun wants to give a message, he will listen to that spiteful part of himself and only needs two turns at bat to speak.

Tanba has always had a very bad mental game. A product of his injuries and his discomfort of having Miyuki as a battery mate; once Tanba gets a hit, his pitching slowly becomes shaky and less confidence in his fastballs he has.

Eijun would feel sorry, he knows he would. But right now, he feels happy, it feels good to hurt them. It's like finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Finishing climbing out of the hole he's in.

And knowing Miyuki...

Eijun holds the short bat again and approaches the strike zone. He watches closely as Tanba frowns before nodding and getting into position to pitch.

Knowing Miyuki, he will be aggressive this time.

And Eijun is not wrong. 

The ball is sent flying off the fence, another possible home-run if not for being in foul territory.

And that's fine. That's what Eijun wants. That's his message.

Eijun will give as many fouls as possible until he destroys them. Until their bad mood goes away, until they wonder if he is reading their minds, until he tires them out and makes Coach Kataoka or Rei intervene because they can't allow Tanba to throw so much in one day.

Eijun wants, just for a few moments, to feel in control. 

CLANK!

“I-Is it... Is it right for us to see this?”

“I don't know...”

CLANK!

For the first-years, what they see can only be humiliation. A massacre. To the Gaijin... no, to the foreign pitcher it was enough just to get into a rhythm to give foul after foul consecutively.

Yes, the third-years had destroyed them even though they were from the second string, led by Seido's ace and their cleaner. This man out of nowhere is defeating Seido's best battery with home-runs that almost make it out of the foul zone.

Miyuki, the lead catcher on the first string, used up all the time-outs allowed until the foreigner told coach Kataoka that he had no problem with them asking for more.

“You can take as many as you want, I'm not going anywhere," he said matter-of-factly. The black circular glasses gave him more seriousness than should be normal. It's like seeing a monster in a person's body and, above all, it leaves a question on the tip of everyone's tongue.

Who is this man?

“How many fouls did he?” asks Kanemaru to Kariba, who has been watching the game in silence since he returned from catching.

“He did twenty fouls," Kominato finally answered.

Perhaps, the atmosphere would be even heavier for them were it not for Sawamura and Furuya. 

CLANK!

CLANK!

Sawamura becomes loud, exclaims with every loud hit and gets excited when the ball leaves the field; almost forgetting that he should be supporting his senpais and not the foreigner.

Furuya, on the other hand, has an oppressive aura, muttering words that are not understood.

“But... there's something strange about these fouls, don't you think?” Tojo says quietly, as if his comment was not meant to be shared.

“There's something strange," says Kominato, "this man... he's doing it intentionally, isn't he?”

CLANK!

The little comment earns all the attention. Kominato only blushes with embarrassment when he realizes that he has all the eyes of the rest of the first year on him.

“Actually, you're right about that, Kominato-kun," Rei appears out of nowhere, scaring the first-years who don't scream just because their brains don't have time to process that Rei-san has gotten so close to them without them noticing. “He's doing it on purpose, he's reading Miyuki and Tanba-kun like an open book. He knows what Miyuki is going to ask for and he knows where.”

CLANK!

Another foul, another ball taken out of the field. The count is twenty-five and Tanba doesn't look too good on the mound, completely sweaty and even breathing hard. Miyuki, even if he looks calmer, hasn't even spoken to ask the coach for another ball. His serious and confused eyes are clearly visible through his sports glasses, revealing a frustration that with every foul ball rises because, regardless of whether he asks for pitches in the strike zone or balls, the foreigner hits everything.

To tell the truth, no one on the first string is talking or smiling anymore. They are well aware of the massacre they are seeing and what awaits them when they go back to bat.

The foreigner seems to notice the atmosphere, he doesn't smile either, but he doesn't scoff. He even adjusts his sunglasses a bit and takes a practice swing before the twenty-fifth pitch.

And, as if he had taken pity on Tanba (because there is no other word to describe it, not when everyone, in one way or another, understands that this stranger is giving foul after foul because he wants to) he gives the definitive hit.

It is even a beautiful shock. The sound that is produced is sweet. The cherry on the cake. Water in the middle of the desert. 

CLANK!

The ball, this time, goes down the middle. A full-fledged home-run. Hit with a simplicity and speed where no one moves until it lands somewhere outside the fence.

“Let's switch sides," says the foreigner as he wipes the sweat from his face with the palm of his hand.

Those on the first string almost want to refuse. Ei is only one person, so his turn should be the equivalent of three turns at bat.

But now, they're not sure they want that, and worst of all, this man knows it.

“It’s okay, you can consider this as three turns at bat.”

And he says it so matter-of-factly, without importance, that no one objects.

For Miyuki, the embarrassment is even greater when the man touches his shoulder.

“Thank you for the bat," he says as he gives it to him. Miyuki can only look at the shades as he accepts the bat in silence. The foreigner did not say it with malice, his tone of voice was soft, not mocking or oppressive.

So why do I feel like you are making fun of me?

The man calmly walks back to the first year he caught as a catcher, holding out his hands and spreading his fingers to ask for a 'high five.'

Kariba, of course, hesitates at first to give them until the man's insistence is greater than his ability to resist.

“Let's go, partner! the foreigner's mixture of English and Japanese confused the first-year, who quickly pulled himself together as he started jogging back to his place at home.”

By the time the stranger climbs the mound, that joy he showed towards Kariba seems to vanish, replaced entirely by something monstrous and intimidating. The round sunglasses slide a little off his nose, revealing golden eyes that stare at the first string with defiance.

Yuuki has the next at bat and his presence is immediately noticeable, the aura around him giving that sense of security as he slowly walks to the batter's box without missing the staring war he has against the pitcher. Challenge against challenge.

When Yuuki is on the field, on the offensive. Seido's morale rises. What was once gloomy becomes hopeful and soon, cheers are heard again on the diamond.

“Come on Yuuki!”

“Tetsu-tetsu! Send the ball fly”

“You can do it, Captain!”

Even without the school band, that doesn't stop those in the first string from chanting.

“Hit it long, Yu-U-ki! Hit it long!”

“Yuuki! Yuuki!”

And, just when Yuuki seems to find the perfect batting position, the foreigner calls for a time out.

“Nervous, Kariba-kun?”

The real nervous one is Eijun. Maybe because when he saw Tetsu-san enter, he didn't see the teenager of ten years ago, but the Tetsu of the future. The most intimidating player in the NBL behind only Narumiya.

And, if he's honest. He doesn't like it when his brain decides to show ghosts from the past. It's terrible enough having to deal with Erick's silhouette when Eijun is on the mound, pitching to another catcher while the collar on his chest is heavy as ever.

Throwing at others becomes a kind of betrayal. No matter who it is.

Is that why you ran away so cowardly from Yui?

No, no. I had nothing to teach Yui anymore. I no longer had anything to do there with them. I couldn't.

You haven't even sent him a text message; didn't you promise him?

“Ei-san? Are you okay?”

Eijun blinks. 

Is it just him, or is he spacing out more than usual? He feels very distracted. No, more like it. It's like his body is on a roller coaster of emotions that he doesn't know when to stop. He felt elated earlier, happy to tear Tanba and Miyuki apart, to finally get out of the depressing hole he was in.

And now... now he's back inside, slipping off the muddy walls that keep him from climbing up to feel good again.

Stop it, Eijun. You're thinking too much again. 

I just have to hold on a little longer. Just a little more.

“I'm fine. I'm just… debating whether to use another pitch to give your captain an out," he says slowly, reflexively covering his mouth with his glove.”

“You are such a liar, Ei-san. You said you’ll use only fastballs, but you already pitched two different throws.”

“Ouch, Kriba-kun. Are you saying that you don’t want to see other pitches of mine?”

“Wha! —Like any catcher, I'd like to see your arsenal. But I think a college student like you will have a lot of hands up your sleeve that you don't want to show off.”

A college student?

Ah, it makes sense if Eijun gives it some thought. He's already shown that he has a high level of play, and by this point, most must think he plays at that level. Maybe if Rei-san or Kataoka fantasized to the extreme like Masamune-san, they would surely think that maybe he plays in some minor league.

All very far from reality. But Eijun does not intend to deny or affirm anything. With no real records beyond the fact that for the government he is an extreme case of isolation and charity, to say he is a Yankee pro would make him a liar with a simple internet search, no matter how good he is.

But... he's talking to Kariba. Just as he had a soft spot for Yui and ended up pleasing him with amazing throws (that he could catch at his level, of course) his heart yearns to throw everything he has at Kariba.

Kariba, who helped him so much. Kriba, who offered him his shoulder when Miyuki graduated and later put up with him when everyone in Seido could only look at him with pity and whisper when it was announced that Miyuki would form a battery with Narumiya Mei in college.

Don't intervene, didn't you say you wouldn't change anything? says the more rational part of him. It's problematic enough that you are playing with them right now.

“I wouldn't mind showing them to you..." he says quietly. His face tries to form a smile that becomes incomplete when he remembers he's on the mound and must keep his mind together, “but I think I'll leave that for another time. Let's get on with the fastball and a surprise, shall we? Your captain is good, but he's never faced someone like me.”

At least, not yet.

Kariba nods and with that returns home. Eijun inhales and exhales sharply as he closes his eyes and counts to ten. Easy to do even with the noise. Easy when the ghost of the future Tetsu is no longer around to look at him disapprovingly.

When Eijun opens his eyes again his body has already moved automatically. His fingers in the four-seam position, his eyes already locating Kariba's glove in the inside right corner. Eijun would have first asked for an outside pitch to play with Tetsu's perception, but he obeys Kariba's pitch calling.

He doesn’t hesitate, because he knows he has the talent to back up the decisions his partner makes.

Nervousness almost overcomes him as Tetsu's bat grazes his pitch. The force of the swing is such that a bit of dirt is kicked up before Coach Kataoka says 'Strike.'

“GAHH! Tetsu! How could you miss that?!”

“Says the guy who struck out in record time? You have no shame, Jun.”

“Don't be arrogant just because you hit a foul, Ryosuke!”

“Hyaha! So, you admit I did better than you?”

Eijun shakes his head for a moment, turning away from the distractions. Away from the nostalgia of hearing those voices. They are losing but Tetsu is amazing enough to change the mood with just his presence on the diamond.

Eijun would have liked to have had that same effect when he went to America. When he was first recruited.

Adjusting his cap, Eijun moves it in such a way that Kariba understands that he will now be the one to make the decision.

“Aren't you afraid I'll fail to catch some of your special pitches?”

“What kind of question is that? You'll do fine. Trust me. If there's one thing I'm very good at, it's that I have excellent ball control and I trust you and your skills. You should value yourself a little more, Kariba-kun.”

Eijun gently adjusts his cap a little to the right. The signs they invented are simple and unobtrusive. Easy to remember. While Eijun can only signal that the launch will be internal, it's Kariba's job to catch it.

A low, inside pitch. I know you can do it, Kariba.

So it begins, his foot lifting slightly, his left hand making a wall to give strength for his pitch and finally, his right hand coming out late. The sound of his foot hitting the mound with force, together with the accumulated force in his fingers that Eijun releases. His lungs empty the air they contained at the same time he releases a roaring ball. 

He has been throwing at 70% of his right-handed ability. Pitches that are between 130 and 140 km/h, an ideal velocity for teenagers in high school and perfect for fooling them when he changes pace. 

A tactic to save resistance and confuse the opponent.  

Tetsu swings too late, expecting a slower ball. 

Eijun, instaed, give him a ball at 150 km/h.

“STRIKE TWO!”

“What...?”

“That was faster! —How!?”

“It's like your pitch, Furuya!”

“My pitch...”

“Tetsu! Damn you! You missed another fastball!”

“Jun, will you shut up?”

Despite being on the ropes, Tetsu's aura increases. His eyes take on a hungry gleam against Eijun's dead ones. Facing his former captain turns out to be very...

Exhausting. Bitter.

There is a slight sour taste in his mouth that Eijun can't get rid of. A discomfort in hisstomach, a slight dizziness.

Is it too late to think that he hasn't eaten since he arrived? 

Eijun adjusts his cap again and sets it down in the middle. He can see Kariba tense up and look worriedly at Tetsu, whose presence becomes bigger and bigger, so that his mind doesn’t see young Tetsu, but the fearsome slugger of the Chiba Lotte Marines.

“You should have talked to Miyuki, Eijun. What happened was not what you think.”

“And what was it? Please tell me. He won't answer my calls, and he won't answer my emails! How much longer do I have to wait? Haven't I waited long enough?”

“Sawamura...”

“I waited! That's why I turned down the draft! That's why I declined the offer of the U18s!” 

“Why do I need to wait but he can't?”

Tetsu never answered his question.

The position of his fingers is automatic. Anger fills him like never before and before he knows it, he is already throwing the ball, his middle finger is the last part of his hand to touch the ball.

It's like watching everything in slow motion. The frustration and anger boiling in his veins stop for a moment when his eyes are more occupied with watching the beautiful trajectory of his launch. 

The ball comes out in an almost straight line to the left. He can see Kariba's eyes widen, the doubt in them about whether to move his glove to the outside but in the end, he stays firmly in the middle.

Tetsu's foot makes noise as he hits the batter's box. His bat swings smoothly, ready to give a clean hit to a ball. 

Then, when the ball is probably less than half a meter away from Tetsu, it breaks vertically to the right, falling slower than it should.

Ah, this is...

When Tetsu realizes it, it's already too late. His bat has already started its trajectory and it’s impossible at this point to modify his swing. 

The ball hits Kariba's glove with a clean sound. Dignified. Almost taunting the batter.

“STRIKE THREE! —BATTER OUT!

My Kick Change

Eijun should be happy. He has struck out Tetsu, fooled him with a change up.

He would have celebrated with Kariba, except that his legs gave way under his own weight. Eijun loses his balance and falls to his knees on the mound while his mouth fills with bitter and acid saliva along with a slight pain in his stomach.

And even with that, Eijun laughed. He doesn’t care if he gets angry or confused gazes at him, he keeps laughing.

"Good thing I don't know how to pitch! Can you imagine if I could!?"

Maybe Eijun finally snapped? But he couldn’t think more when the strength he had acquired to stand up to Tetsu vanished like the wind, leaving him feeling utterly miserable.

Ah... maybe I should have eaten something before coming here.

His right hand goes to his mouth. As if that could hold back the gagging.

Someone runs to his side and Eijun really tries to contain the bile inside his body, really tries not to stain the most sacred place he knows.

Whoever grabs him and helps him up is big and strong. Eijun barely manages to keep his concentration to realize that it's Kataoka helping him move off the mound to get him to the opposite dugout on the first string.

The trainer says something, but for now, Eijun has his brain bewildered from reality. He simply lets himself go like a puppet and agrees to sit on the bench to finally release the non-food in his stomach.

It's horrible. His throat burns and saliva pools on the ground beneath him but at least he has the consolation that Kataoka's dugout and body are large enough to hide him from the world.

Just like Masamune-san.

Once again, Seido's favorite word seems to be to ask about his health.

“Are you all right? And please, don't lie to me, boy.”

Although Eijun knows Kataoka well enough to know that the question is just a formality. Surely he has asked Rei to call the school nurse to give him a quick checkup.

He doesn't feel like answering. He doesn't. By this point he no longer wants to get on the mound and just wants to go to his apartment to fill his stomach and sleep.

Hearing genuine concern from the coach makes him remember happy times from his teenage years. He feels protected like he did ten years ago, it feels good to hear that concern even when he doesn't deserve it.

“I...”

But, just this once, Eijun sees nothing wrong with telling the truth.

“No, I don't feel good.”

After all, this is just a batting simulation, maybe they will feed him for pity's sake, and he will return to his new home and get a job in the next few days. 

And maybe, just maybe, he can meet and talk to his younger self.

After all, Eijun technically won. He made a run while Seido never got on the base.

Surely, with that they will leave him alone for a while. Eijun just wants to help his past self be less of a jerk, he doesn't want to get more involved than he already has, and even less if what he's going to get at the end of the day is always getting sick, even if it means never interacting with Chris.

What Eijun doesn't know is that Chris watched the whole game from afar. Even calling his father on his phone to ask, non-ironically, if any professional team in America had accidentally lost a pitcher.

What he knows even less is the thousands of thoughts Takashima Rei has in her head about him, with her glasses glinting wickedly and a smile that doesn't bode well.

And, above all, he doesn't realize the seed he's just planted in Seido.

Chapter Text

"Okay... I think everything is okay," the school nurse says as she releases the pressure of the blood pressure cuff on his left arm. Eijun moves his arm a few times to get rid of the numb feeling, "You're showing signs of fatigue, and your blood pressure is slightly low, but I guess that's because you haven't eaten in a while, right?”

He feels embarrassed, not only because of the obvious reprimand she’s giving him, but also because Eijun doesn’t remember her name.

That's… technically a good thing. Knowing that Eijun never got hurt enough to visit the school nurse or interim doctor constantly is a great sign, a sign that Eijun knew how to moderate himself as a teenager.

Well, technically it wasn't.

Kariba, Kanemaru, Chris-san, Okumura... all of them always reminded him of his limits; it would be unfair to give himself credit for taking care of himself in such arrogant way.

Erick also took care of him. His Aibou always cooked for both of them. His food was warm and familiar. Something that always filled him up, even though Eijun had a voracious appetite.

The red rice with vegetables, the sweet or salty mole. The endless complaints about canned and frozen food...

Erick's food was similar but so different from what Eijun had ever eaten.

"Seriously, Eijun. The next time you show me a video of a gringo cooking frozen meat and vegetables, I'll go nuts. Why don't they defrost them first?! Why?!"

“It's not that bad. Look on the bright side, at least the one in this video didn't put four layers of different cheeses on it. It looks appetizing," he says with amusement as the anger makes Erick's accent increase.

Erick makes a bizarre noise, a very high-pitched scream as he points at him rudely, “Sacrilege! Get out of my church, you vile heretic!”

“This is my kitchen, you know?”

“The land belongs to those who work it, a man once said. And you, my dear battery mate, you burn even the water. You have no right to be in this kitchen.”

“I know how to cook white rice! Do you think I'm so useless!?”

“A boring, sticky, and tasteless rice. At least you should put garlic or a vegetable in it to make it moister. Have you ever tried to put carrot cubes or green peas?”

“In Japan, it's normal to eat it alone... the food has enough seasoning on its own.”

“Ah! But we're not in your country. And as long as I'm here, the rice will taste, and you'll never cook frozen food without thawing it first. Not in my guard!”

Of course, his Nippon pride at first did not allow him to enjoy Erick's culinary skills, but the more time passed, his Aibou's food became unique to him.

At some point, Eijun had stopped missing the food of his home country, and to his surprise, when they found a restaurant decent enough to mimic Japanese food, Eijun did not find himself enjoying it as he thought he would.

He didn't say it out loud, but silently, he thought the white rice he was given was rather boring.

Eijun does not look him in the eyes, only scratches the back of his neck ruefully as he smiles ruefully.

“Yeah... you are quite right. I haven't eaten in a while.”

“How long have you been fasting?”

If Eijun remembered correctly, the most he had for breakfast was a few pieces of bread and a glass of milk. Masamune had insisted that Eijun should eat some more breakfast before taking the train, but he hadn't had the strength to do that. They wake up at the same time, so Eijun hasn't had a bite to eat since 7 am.

And it's almost dark. What time is it?

“Twelve hours," he says, sparing the nurse the calculation, "I'm sorry. This match wasn't my best idea.”

“Yeah, I can see it.”

Maybe Eijun would be calmer if he didn't know that Rei and Coach Kataoka are standing outside the small office. In fact, the nurse lets them pass, and he can't help but be a little self-conscious about their presence, trying to make himself smaller where he sits, as if that would make them pay less attention to him.

Instead, that seems to get his attention even more, and Eijun can't help but feel like a fifteen-year-old boy about to be given the worst punishment of his life.

“I hope you are feeling better," says Rei-san in her characteristic calm and professional tone. Next to her, Kataoka looks less intimidating than he remembers.

Or maybe I see it that way because I'm not a kid anymore.

“I'm sorry for scaring both of you. I haven't had the best ideas since I got here, and apparently, today I have two left feet and no brain.”

His little joke seems to lighten the mood and helps Eijun breathe calmly. Rei-san smiles at him while Kataoka still seems to judge him silently.

Man, what a terrible reunion.

“Nurse Kaori told us that you need to eat," Kataoka finally spoke, his voice as confident and gravelly as he remembered. "Let us feed you as an apology for the trouble our players caused you.”

Eijun doesn't want to be in Seido anymore, and he doesn't want to deal with the stares and whispers about him. He doesn’t want to hear the words gaijin or hafu directed at him, even though they will be important in the future, Eijun knows he will have to get used to them.

“I... I would like to, but I really want to go home.”

“We insist. You haven't eaten in twelve hours. We're afraid you might pass out on the way,” Rei says, “and by the way, our players can make good on whatever they bet with you.”

“We hope it's nothing serious," Kataoka adds in a slightly threatening tone.

Eijun is practically sweating. He feels stressed about Seido, uncomfortable with not wearing glasses and having his face exposed, and with the high probability that they will easily recognize him if they decide to pay attention. The only reason he’s not related to his younger self is because of his disheveled and not-so-hygienic appearance.

And because he’s literally not at my side.

“It's not..." he says nervously, clasping his hands together to give himself some comfort, "I asked them to do me a favor, but I'm not an asshole, the most I could ask them to do would be to do my shopping for me or use them as training dummies.”

Eijun only thought about how he could use them to get closer to his younger self, not for other things.

The first half of his sentence clearly set off alarms in the two of them if the disguised concern on Rei and Kataoka's faces have anything to say, but his quick explanation ended in some sort of relief for them.

Sure, that slight suspicion is still not entirely gone from the two of them, but far from feeling offended, Eijun is almost relieved.

Finally, normal adults.

After the nurse, Kaori-san, he says to himself, had given the go-ahead. Rei and Kataoka accompany him to the dining room. The pit in his stomach reappears as Eijun sees familiar faces go inside the building, and for a moment, he thinks he might be able to empty the non-existent food from his stomach again.

To tell the truth, they are early. The place is not crowded, and Eijun just waits nervously for Kataoka to permit him to sit anywhere while Rei talks to the kitchen staff.

The teenagers already there are clearly confused and whisper among themselves. Eijun tries to ignore them as much as he can until Kataoka finally tells him he can sit wherever he wants, and Eijun neither slow nor lazy, chooses to sit at the table furthest away from everyone.

The amount of stress he feels just being here, in this environment that was once like his second home, is not normal. Eijun feels a tingling in his hands that makes him almost wish he had a ball so he could squeeze it over and over again.

When Erick was nervous, Eijun always found it interesting that his Aibou would move (shake) his left leg with speed, up and down. Sometimes he would do it so fast that it would shake the table they were sitting on, and Eijun would jokingly touch that leg to stop it, only to have the movement transferred to him and shake him as well.

Eijun would like to have such a mechanism for himself. Maybe he could handle stress better that way, but for now, but for now, he's content to balance his body.

Kataoka retires at some point, but Eijun knows that he asked Rei to watch over him, and like everything else since he went back in time, the world continues to move forward.

The dining room gets more and more crowded, and Eijun now feels like he has some kind of giant target that draws everyone's attention to him. Maybe he could put on his cap and glasses, but that would be weird, wouldn't it?

More whispers, more words you don't want to hear.

“HUH?!, what the hell is he doing here?!” It was Isashiki's unmistakable voice, but somehow it made him get a little scared and turn to look at him. The teenager didn't jump at him because the older Kominato held him by the collar of his shirt like a dog.

“Jun, it would be nice if you had some manners in the dining hall.”

“Let go of me! I'll make him leave!”

Well, is not like I wanted to be here. Eijun thinks bitterly. I might as well have arrived at my apartment.

“You're not going to force anyone, Jun. Coach asked us to be nice to him. Don't you remember how he collapsed on the mound?”

It’s embarrassing to be defended by Yuuki, by another child. But at this point, Eijun is not sure if he can lose even more dignity when he no longer has any.

Yuuki's words are all it takes for Isashiki to calm down and go over to get his own ration of food, even with steam coming out of his nose and an annoyed look on his face.

It would be funny until Rei arrives at his side, and everyone seems to be staring at them. The cozy atmosphere he remembered is practically gone, and Eijun feels more like he's in a minefield where one wrong step could end his life.

The smell of the food doesn't help either, except to whet his appetite; it only makes his refusal to eat stronger, even though his stomach practically hurts, and begs to eat.

Rei is as kind to him as one can be to a stranger. She looks at him with a kind of compassion that Eijun just allows himself to feel because of how tired he feels.

“Here you go, Ei-san. I hope you don't mind if I sit next to you for a while?”

Even if he didn't want to, Eijun doesn't think he could refuse, so he just nods silently.

The tray of food that Rei-san brought him has that nostalgic feel to it. A perfectly filled bowl of white rice, nothing like the mountains Eijun used to eat, a miso soup whose whiteness and taste he was once used to, and finally three finely seasoned fish fillets with salt.

“How... peculiar. I don't know how they can eat it raw," says Erick the first time they enter a sushi restaurant. His friend practically pecks at the sushi on his plate with the chopsticks they've been given, "I'm serious. I can feel it sticking in my throat, and I haven't even tasted it.”

“You are exaggerating.”

“I'm not exaggerating. You can have all the sushi you want; it comes from my wallet, but I'll order something different.”

Eijun would soon learn that Erick would only eat fish if it was prepared in such a way that its flavor would be mild or, for that matter, not taste fishy.

Which... for Eijun was an abomination. How horrible to lose the umami of fish! And more so in the face of exorbitant amounts of garlic and salt. It felt like an offense of the same caliber when he discovered breaded sushi.

Still, he finds it curious that despite his Aibou's aversion to seafood, he can safely eat canned tuna, shrimp or sea crusts.

But with industrial quantities of chili, lime, and salt.

“Thank you," Eijun says as he grabs the metal chopsticks he has borrowed and takes a small piece of fish. The flesh is easy to separate, and when he brings it to his mouth, his mind bombards him with memories. During his time as a student. The meals with Okumura, Chris, Haruichi, Furuya, Kanemaru, Kariba and Kuramochi.

Also with Kazuya, he thinks.

It's... It's okay. That's it. It's decent.

It's salted fish, tasteless white rice, and a decent miso soup. That's it.

Masamune's food had not been so tasteless. It was normal, he liked it and even asked if he could have another portion..

Eijun can only describe the taste of this food as sad. But only for him. The children and teenagers around him devoured everything with enthusiasm and big smiles. Ignorant of his feelings.

No one complains, and although Eijun could use the first-graders who are on the verge of vomiting as an excuse, he knows very well that it's more because they can't stand the amount of food they have to eat than because of the taste.

In the distance. He finds his younger self. He doesn't even have to look at him, considering how loud he is when he enters the dining room, practically screaming when he sees him, surely pointing a rude finger at him.

There are more and more people, and it is much more noticeable now that the table where he and Rei are sitting is the only empty one, just as obviously as the others prefer to eat standing up rather than sitting next to him.

It’s so contradictory. Eijun wanted to leave, to be alone, not to have to face Seido anymore. But now that Seido is fulfilling half of his wishes, it hurts him.

Eijun no longer understands himself.

“What do you think?” he hears Rei say when she notices that he didn't take another piece. Eijun feels shy from one moment to the next. The food isn't the problem, it's himself.

The meals were always warm, fun, and full of banter between classmates. For Eijun, nothing in his life has ever tasted as good, with the obvious exception of his mother's cooking.

Eijun expected the same. It’s the same food, the same kind ladies who prepare it, and he's surrounded by almost the same people, even if they are not sitting next to him.

But when the piece of fish touched his tongue. Eijun was disappointed.

Another blow to his reality.

“I missed this kind of food," he says instead, choosing not to answer the question directly because he doesn't have the guts to lie about something so simple. Isn’t he doing enough already?

“Missed? Are you from around here, Ei-san?”

Eijun takes a bite of the miso soup, aware that the children now have giant ears and are not very discreet about their intentions to listen to his conversation.

Now, Eijun already knows that he's an idiot. So, for a long time, he thought up a story that was believable enough and sounded great in his head until he remembered that, for the Japanese government, he had practically existed for less than a year.

Technically, Eijun shouldn't worry; it's not like anyone's going to ask him out of the blue for a background check or anything. But he's pretty depressed that he doesn't even have an elementary school transcript under his name. Eijun's been pretty lucky that the jobs he's grabbed don't even minimally ask for a high school certificate.

Which... isn't great. Eijun can't go on like this, he has to regain some dignity now that he has a stable roof over his head and a decent amount of savings.

Well, it's not like I'm going to ask for a job here. They don't have to know the story that I was born in the middle of nowhere, in a godforsaken town.

In addition, using the story I already had prepared avoided possible awkward questions in the future and explained in an obvious way things about him that you have probably already noticed.

“I come from America," he says matter-of-factly. He can hear several people spitting out their food or the water they're drinking along with whispers of 'I knew it!' “Well... technically I was born and raised here. I just moved with my mom to America when I was thirteen.”

“That explains a lot," Rei says with a smile as she adjusts her glasses. Eijun simply nods as he takes a bite of miso soup and a cold sweat running down his back, trying to not freak out.

What is that supposed to mean, Rei-san?!

Although if Masamune-san could identify that he played baseball at a very high level, Eijun is sure that Rei, with her incredible instincts and being the one who recruited him and many more, would not be scared to assume that he’s not just anyone.

My goodness, I’m really an idiot!

How am I supposed to go unnoticed if I gave myself away in a silver tray!?

But! If Eijun doesn't open his mouth and confirm something, she can't sign him. Rei can't apply the same strategy to him as Masamune.

“May I know why you have returned to Japan? If you don't mind, of course. You speak the language very well.”

Even so, it would be a missed opportunity to get closer to his younger self. Rei is also very intelligent; she has not yet spent much time with his past self, so, normally, she cannot see the similarities yet.

But as his younger self stays in Seido, Rei will eventually connect the dots.

“Well, my mother didn't want me to lose the language, the internet helped a lot in that aspect,” taking a breath of air, Eijun fills his lungs to lower his nervousness and avoid stuttering before the big lie he will tell, “I... came to look for a relative.”

“Grandparents? Your father?”

As Eijun would like to see them. To hug his grandfather, to hug his father, and mother. To tell them how much he misses them and how scary it has been to be alone, to tell them how sorry he is for not connecting with them since Erick died.

But he can't.

Not yet.

“To my brother," he says, "I came here to meet my half-brother.”

There's the bomb. He has set himself up as a hafu, and now there's no turning back.

Eijun senses the gaze of his younger self on him... He wants to look him in the eyes, but he’s still afraid to acknowledge his existence.

What if time-space is really torn apart?

What if one disappears?

What if the universe restarts?

“I don't know him... we haven't interacted. But I want to meet him and help him with whatever he needs, that's what she would have wanted.”

Rei nods with understanding, there’s a slight sadness on her face, she looks at him with compassion that makes Eijun sweat.

Did I say something strange?

He’s aware of the holes in his history, if he will use his father (pardon your idiot son) as a scapegoat to justify his age and possible sibling relationship with his younger self. How will he tell Rei or Kataoka that he knew that Eijun from the past signed up for Seido? His family is so bad with technology, and any lie along the lines of, 'My mother called my father to ask,' will be disproved in the blink of an eye.

Well, that's a problem for the Eijun of the future.

Wait a minute, I am from the future!

Eijun hopes that with this, they can finally let him go. He hasn't eaten all the miso soup, and the fish was pecked with his chopsticks; it is practically whole next to the rice.

But he wants to leave. He needs to pull himself together and think. Take a long shower until his fingers wrinkle, call Masamune to thank him for everything and text Yui-shonen as promised.

“Ei-san”

Eijun almost jumped like a cat if he hadn't recognized the voice. Next to him is Kariba with his tray of food, freshly cleaned and bathed.

“Rei-san, good night, may I sit down? All the other tables are full, and after today, I don't want to eat standing up.”

It’s amusing to see the other children look at Kariba as if he has committed treason. But Eijun just smiles at him and pats the chair next to him. Seeing Kariba makes him feel light.

“Kariba!” his voice is not as energetic as he would like it to be, but it is something. “I was wondering when you were coming. A young man like you shouldn't skip meals.”

“I know," he replies suddenly chagrined, one of his hands scratching the back of his neck, "I just can't eat all three bowls yet, so I'm taking my time to psych myself up and try not to throw up.”

Eijun snorts with amusement. His memories of not having endured the three bowls of rice also come to his mind, as well as Okumura and Asada's first attempts.

They were so cute.

“Take your time, you aren’t in a race. Taking care of your body is the main thing. Tell me, did you stretch when the game was over?”

Cariba's face looks guilty, and Eijun now fears the worst.

“Uhh... I'm sorry, Ei-san. With your collapse on the mound, I got too nervous and forgot.”

Eijun can only grab the child by the arms while shaking him back and forth as if he were a jelly.

“No! No! Kariba-kun, you have to do the cool-down stretches! You're a catcher! You suffer more from your knees! How could you forget that!?!? I'll forgive you today, but you must do it every time you finish playing or training!”

All eyes are on him again and Eijun blushes with embarrassment. He's sure he even has his cat eyes at their fullest when he lets go of Kariba and tries to ignore the others.

Which he can't do, Rei has that same look as Masamune, those eyes that seem to know more than they let on. Those shiny glasses don't bode any good for him.

“So, you know quite a bit about baseball.” Rei starts the conversation.

“I would like to think so.”

Eijun only hopes that his quick answers will not be offensive to her. He already has a slight idea of what she wants to do.

“Would you like to think? Have you no faith in your abilities?”

“I have great faith in my abilities, ma'am. It was doubt about them that prompted me to challenge your children in the first place.”

Is it just Eijun, or has Rei's foxy grin gotten bigger?

Kariba is wise and stays out of the way, but at least his presence is comforting.

“Are you a college student?”

Oh no. I'm so sorry, Rei!

That's a question Eijun won't answer if he can help it. His stress skyrockets to unthinkable levels for his mind when he sees Miyuki Kazuya enter the dining room and look into his eyes. He also looks surprised and approaches Kuramochi to surely get the context about what is going on.

Just breathe, Eijun. Be the adult you're supposed to be!

“Something like that,” he says. Would it hurt to tell part of the truth? “It's complicated. I took a sabbatical year.”

Conversing with Rei is harder than I thought it would be. It feels so strange to lie to her face, to not be able to speak with enthusiasm or familiarity with her because this Rei is not his Rei. She's not the one who advised him when he turned down the U-18 proposal, she's not the one who helped him go to America to pursue his dreams.

She is not the same Rei who came all the way from Japan to his apartment in America to take care of him when Eijun was so depressed by Erick's death that he stopped eating and answering calls. So miserable that he had not gone to training with his team after Erick’s funeral, and only when she came, Eijun could find the strength to continue.

She’s not his Rei.

No one here are the persons Eijun knew.

And worst of all, Eijun doesn't know if that's good or bad.

“Ah! Kariba-shonen," Eijun changes the conversation because he knows he can't keep making things up without ruining it or having his brain start overthinking things. He wants to divert Rei's attention to a less personal part of his life.

“H-hai!? -Kariba answers politely, nervously.

“Are you nervous?” Eijun joked with him to make him feel more comfortable and, at the same time, to lower his own anxiety. “Tell me, have you always been a catcher?”

Kariba has a strained smile, more from the fact of the predatory looks from the third and second years than anything else.

“Well... yeah. “I was always a catcher," he says carefully, his words are soft as his face takes on a little pink color, "nobody wanted to play that position, so since I was the last one to pick, I got it. It was a little frustrating, the pitchers I got always sent the balls where they wanted, and I had a hard time catching them. They never followed my calls.

Oh! That...

I didn't know that.

Is it something the Kariba of his world would have shared? Three years he had been together with the catcher, and Eijun had no idea... no, rather, he had never asked about Kariba's reasons for going to Seido or playing baseball in the first place.

Just like Yui.

Eijun was so engrossed in baseball, in the games, in Miyuki Kazuya, in Koshien that he…  never stopped to find out more about his teammates.

If I had done that... would I still have been talking to Okumura?

“That's why I really enjoyed being your partner, Ei-san," says Kariba with a slight smile, bringing Eijun back to reality, "I learned a lot from you. I feel confident that I can catch all of Furuya's balls after experiencing your throws.”

Honest words steal Eijun's breath away. His hands clench the metal chopsticks he holds for a few seconds as his brain analyzes Kariba's words.

When...?

“What about you, Ei-san? Have you always been a pitcher?” asks his old friend.

And Eijun... Eijun can only look at him as a familiar burning appears in his eyes. For once, his tongue seems to loosen, and he speaks without thinking.

“At one time I thought it would be just that," he replied, amazed at himself because his words have a sincerity that he doesn't know where it came from, "but I play other positions. I could say that I'm decent at everything.

"Everything!" he hears some students exclaim. Rei is also very attentive; she has not intervened once, and her gaze becomes sharper.

“Decent?”

“I have to be humble. Although I must admit that it's not like I can take positions away from others who have been at... uh… for example, a shortstop. I could be a good replacement if needed, but I don't think I'm on the level of someone who has played this position their whole life.”

For some reason, talking this nonchalantly has made his nervousness and anxiety gradually disappear. Eijun hasn't talked this much to anyone besides Masamune and maybe Yui.

And then, he remembers Rei.

Eijun almost doesn't want to look at her now that he's realized how much he screwed up.

His body tense, he almost feels a giant bead of sweat trickle down his cheek as he feels that familiar look that nothing good is going to happen to him. It's so much pressure he feels that when he thinks she's going to speak, he sets the chopsticks down with supreme politeness on the food tray.

It was nice to chat and eat. But that's it for today, at least if he doesn't want a repeat of Masamune with Rei if he keeps opening his mouth just because he had missed talking to Kariba so much.

“Ahem. Uh... I'd like to stay but, you know, where I'm staying there's a curfew and it's almost time," says Eijun pointing to his imaginary watch on his wrist and proud that he won't get stuck on any words as he stands up in a hurry, almost falling off his chair.

“Ei-san! Your food!” Kariba calls out to him, but Eijun only stirs his damp hair a little before walking as fast as possible towards the doors.

“Thank you so much for everything, but I really have to go!” His younger self is so close to him that his heart is pounding. He's almost afraid everyone will hear how fast it beats as he walks past him, and their eyes meet.

It's as if the world froze for a moment. Just him and his past. Twenty-five against fifteen. Golden eyes full of life against dark ones struggling to reach the light.

God, he wants to hug him so badly. To cry for everything that will happen.

And I can't do it...

It's an accident, Eijun bumps into his shoulder and apologizes very quickly as the little boy turns around in surprise.

“Wai—! Furuya! Throw something at him! What kind of apology is that?!”

“Throw...”

“Eijun-kun! Y-you can't ask that to Furuya!”

But he only stops for a moment at the doors to wave goodbye with a firm hand, just to keep his manners and not feel bad tomorrow for having fled like a coward.

“It was fun! —But I'm leaving now! Sayonara! Bye-bye! Have a good night everyone. ¡Adios! ¡Nos vemos!"*

He can clearly hear a "What the hell did he just say?" and "Wait, he said goodbye in three different languages?!" from the student body.

It would be funny for Eijun if his priority wasn't to run and get out without running into Coach Kataoka in the way. Which he succeeds in doing. Eijun exits Seido completely in one piece, leaving behind him a trail of dirt.

As he walks away, he is sure he hears Kariba's voice in the distance, but he doesn't turn around. Instead, he can only cry inside.

Forgive me, Kariba!

"Look at that, a rookie better approached him than you."

“Shut up. As if you didn't want to come over either," Kazuya says annoyed and with a mischievous grin, teasing Kuramochi always brightens his day.

“Tsk, that's because I'm still upset about how he strike me out.”

A big laugh escapes him, probably the best and the worst of his life happened today. Being read to like he never thought he would be read to and seeing his good friend Kuramochi fall on his ass from an inside ball.

“Shut up ‘Mr.I'm going to give you all that victory,’” which sounded more like ‘I JoNAGive U ALL ThaT ViTORy’ because of the food in his mouth.

“Haha! At least I got to put on a show! Not like you.”

“Public humiliation, you mean.”

“Now, now. That's no fun.”

And yet, Kazuya wonders what else the man has to offer. What else can he do? What else can he give?

Is he as good as he throws? what's his top speed? Obviously, he was holding back because a college student can't throw under 80 mph without resorting to a change-up; he'd get eaten alive in the high leagues where he plays.

Maybe I can look him up online? he thinks, but then Kazuya dismisses the thought. He only has his first name and no last name.

Sure, no one likes to lose, and Kazuya would like to consider himself as a non-grudging person (lie). But the thing he still doesn't understand is how that Gaijin—no, not Gaijin; Ei-san—could read him like an open book. Leaving him and Tanba so helpless.

If Chris-senpai had been in my place, would Ei-san have read it this well?

And above all...

“Wait. If that man came here, doesn't that mean his half-brother attends Seido?”

Kuramochi looks at him as if he wants to bury him ten feet deep because Kazuya opened Pandora's box.

Shouts of realization, surprised gasps, and a general panic as everyone points at each other and says:

“And how do I know that you are not his half-brother?”

Only for many times to have of answer.

“Dude, calm down. I'm an only child.”

“I’m one hundred percent Japanese.”

“The last time I checked, I only had little sisters.”

“Well, how do I know that YOU are not his brother?!”

Maybe Kazuya should learn to shut his mouth once in a while.

...

Nah, that would be too boring.

Besides, if the half-brother is in Seido....

What an exciting year!

Chapter 6. Pandora's box.

For Seido, the witch hunt started as a rampage that Rei couldn't quite extinguish, not only because she took care of the Miyuki supposition disaster—though she would never admit that conjecture was very likely—but to stop making Ei uncomfortable.

Yes, to Ei.

It turns out that after that, most of them, I imagine, would never see him again; he was an isolated case, an anomaly who came, humiliated the first string, and left never to return.

But when they saw the young adult coming to watch the practices anonymously (totally impossible, the man sticks out like a sore thumb with the mouthpiece he now wears) and those dark circles as big as bags under his eyes, they made him easy to identify.

And perhaps most surprising to Seido is how expressive he can be from a distance. You'd think the man on the mound who read Miyuki Kazuya and Tanba Koichiro and struck out his captain and fourth batter, Yuuki, would be serious.

But no, he looks like a child playing hide-and-seek, or rather like a stray cat that hisses and runs away when approached.

Sometimes you can see him doing a lot of things when it's their turn to bat, like getting angry when someone misses or face-palming. Other times, he seems to nod and feel happy when they get things right or it's their turn to bat.

But his presence is most noticeable when Ei looks at the rookies. Most of the rookies don't want to approach him. It seems to be a mutual feeling when the first string sees how some roojies try to approach the stranger, only to have him run away at the slightest hint that they want to talk to him.

“Are we sure he’s not a pedophile?”

“That's very rude of you, Jun-san. If Chris-senpai heard you, he would send you to wash your mouth out.”

“Let's be realistic, Kuramochi. And don't you dare tell Chris!”

“Hyaha! And how are you going to stop me? I have his cell phone on speed dial.”

“Jun," Ryosuke interjects, "If he were a pedo, it must be a very bad one considering how obvious it is.”

"Maybe he's just bad at socializing," Mazuko interjects, really feeling sorry for the foreigner and all the bad things they say to him, he doesn't seem to be a bad person in his eyes, "I've read on the Internet that there are people who are not good at socializing, he doesn't seem to like crowds very much and that's why he doesn't approach them. Didn't you see how uncomfortable he was in the dining room? He shifted his body when Rei-san asked him questions.”

“An autistic?” Yuuki asks with genuine curiosity, remembering more strange behaviors he saw in the man, "When he went to the dining hall, he never once looked Rei-san in the eyes. He seemed to avoid her gaze.”

“He didn't want to look at anyone," says Ryosuke.

“Now that you mention it, I also saw him pecking at the food..." Tanba says as he puts a hand to his chin, remembering, "Could he be picky about the food? In the end, he left and didn't finish it, he left it practically whole.”

“Isn't that another trait of theirs?”

And that's a rhythm they carry for a few days. Ei always comes to watch the trainings while the teenagers create rumors about him as they try to look for the mysterious half-brother. Perhaps, by this point, the whole school already knows about the mysterious foreigner who humiliated the first string.

“And what will they do when the hafu asks for their favor?”

“That's a problem for our future selves," they reply.

All of this is a tug-of-war for those on the first string, where no one wants to give in.

But for the first-years, it's a different story.

"Kariba-kun, how long are you going to keep your cap and sunglasses for?" That's the question Kominato Haruichi asks his classmate when they pass by his room. While the seniors want to forget the humiliation the foreigner gave them, the freshmen want to go with Kariba to tell them details about the game, even though they have heard it a thousand times.

But it is just magnetic to hear the story. To hear how the foreigner is so confident in his abilities and how he let Kariba lead until it was the captain's turn.

They are amazed when Kariba reveals the sensations he felt when Ei threw his gauntlet. She tells them about the little strategy Ei devised to confront the third-years and even shows them some of the signals they created to communicate.

“And all that in such a short time..." Kanemaru whispers.

“Unbelievable, isn't it? You must play so well at a college," Kariba replies with a smile as she squeezes her left hand, trying to remember the feel of Ei's fastballs. "To answer your question, Kominato. I was hoping that Ei would be encouraged to talk to us, to give it back to him. When we played, he didn't seem that shy, although it made me uncomfortable not being able to see his face properly. For some reason, I also had the impression that he would be loud on the mound, but...”

“It was quite serious," Tojo finished for Kariba.

“Yeah! That’s it!” Sawamura says excitedly, waving his arms exaggeratedly, “He was so scary! He had this powerful aura around him! Even from a distance, he would choke you!”

Furuya nods; there is fire in his eyes.

Kariba can only agree. Even when Ei was his drumming partner, some of the fear was also going to him, a fear that was disappearing with every ball Kariba perfectly caught.

Although, the credit goes entirely to Ei-san. Ei was able to make me catch them without difficulty. I didn't even have to move my mitt.

Sure, the last few throws were more of faith on Kariba's part to catch them, but it all worked out in the end.

Or so he thought until he saw him collapse. Laughing in a strange tone and looking, for the first time, at those tired and dead eyes due to the sunglasses that had fallen off his face.

He looked so tired...

"Tomorrow I will bring it to him. Do you all want to come with me?"

The answer goes without saying. At least for most of them.

Kariba must have hoped that Sawamura and Furuya wouldn't want to go. Their obsession with baseball is greater than their curiosity about Ei.

For the others, watching the freshmen line up behind their classmate Kariba is a cute sight. Rei and Kataoka even take a moment to watch the exchange closely as Kariba waves to Ei from afar, and Ei briefly hides behind a pole like a frightened cat.

But unlike how Ei reacts to other students, the foreigner lets the rookies come close to him. He doesn't run away even though they see him trembling like jelly.

“Ah! Kariba-shonen! —And...”

“Oh," Kariba notices that Ei doesn't know his classmates, "this is Tojo, Kanemaru and Kominato. They are my classmates from the first-year.”

“Nice to meet you!” they greet, their voices evenly directed at Ei.

Kariba sees Ei flinch a little, actually moving his fingers nervously on the pole as he looks away uncomfortably.

Perhaps it is true that he’s autistic?

Taking the initiative to prevent Ei from feeling even more uncomfortable, Kariba offers him his cap and sunglasses, trying to make things easier for Ei, if what he heard from the third-years is true.

But he's right in front of you. Isn't it better to ask him than to rely on guesswork?

Yeah, Kariba thinks so. Ei has been kind to him from the beginning, and Kariba wants to return the favor.

Ei looks at his things for a few moments before quietly thanking him and grabbing the Yankees cap and sunglasses to wear.

His appearance changes, of course. While he still has a scruffy little beard, now that his tired eyes are hidden and the cap hides his chaotic hair, he seems to look even younger.

How old are you?

“Thank you, Kariba-shonen," says Ei with a slight smile. He looks less awkward, and Kariba likes that. Maybe Ei-san will be more approachable now that he's in a better mood.

“The other time I couldn't ask you because you left," he begins, giving Tojo a little nudge, who clears his throat and forces his back to be completely straight, "but Tojo also wanted to ask you something... well, all of them. So... would it be okay if we asked you some questions?”

Ei-san's lips are set in a neutral expression. A part of Kariba hopes that Ei doesn't feel this as some kind of betrayal. But his fears vanish when he sees Ei's lips twist slightly before he nods.

“Sure," he says, seeming to want the pole to hide him.

He doesn't look very convinced. They all think with a bead of sweat on their foreheads.

Still, Tojo doesn't back down and is the first to ask. He tries to contain his excitement to finally talk to the person who stood up to the third-years.

But Tojo doesn't want to scare him off. Maybe starting with a simple question will break the ice?

“How long have you been playing?”

Tojo is prepared for an awkward silence, but Ei answers immediately, as if he is used to being asked questions every day.

“Ever since I can remember.”

Wow...

Kanemaru is next, he also clears his throat a little before asking his question.

“Do you have a favorite player?”

His question does make Ei slow to respond, but it is mostly due thinking about his question rather than discomfort.

"Suzuki Ichiro is very good," he begins, his voice seeming to lack any particular emotion, but at least he has stopped hiding behind the post, "seven batting crowns and seven gold gloves. He's a formidable right fielder, bats in left even though he's right-handed, and has monstrous accuracy, a .502 average is something to be feared. Plus, he went to the MLB at the age of twenty-one, not something that everyone can do in the NPB, when the average age to leave the Japanese league is twenty-five.

“Wow... “Everyone can't help but be amazed. Ei speaks with such confidence and knowledge that it amazes them. He even has a slight smile on his face.

"Yeah... he's an amazing player. But when I had the chance to meet him, he was already re—” They look at Ei expectantly, their eyes gleaming at the prospect of learning more about a professional. But Ei doesn't seem to share their enthusiasm. The little smile he had disappeared to be replaced by a grimace trying to be a smile and a nervous laugh, “I... uh... the truth is I got so nervous that I only shook his hand. I couldn't even ask him to sign my T-shirt...”

“How terrible," Kanemaru says sympathetically, "but it's normal, man. I'd be nervous too if I met my favorite player.”

“... Yeah... that's why I thank my mother for taking me to see his games. I learned a lot about batting and the right field position from him.”

And then... It's like a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn. Ei stops hiding behind the pole, his posture is firmer, and he looks up at the sky for a few seconds, pensive.

"But that's one of several favorites I have," he says, holding up the index finger of his left hand, "there's Albert Pujols, first baseman, left fielder, and third baseman; Tim Lincecum, pitcher. Incredible performance. He did an incredible performance against…” Ei's voice is very low, you can barely hear it more than a murmur of 'no, not this year...' “Forget that. There’s also Johan Santana, a left-handed pitcher; he has a devastating change-up that almost no one can hit and a very strong arm. An incredible guy, if you ask me.”

For them, these names are unfamiliar, they have nothing Japanese about them, and it is safest to assume that they are from America.

“They are all... Americans?” Tojo asks carefully.

“Hm? Well, not exactly. They all play in the MLB, but Santana is Venezuelan, Pujols is Dominican, and Lincecum is American.”

Maybe they are the ones who are embarrassed now. This man knows a lot, so much so that he can even name foreign players.

But that's normal, Kariba thinks. Ei has spent most of his life in America.

“I have a question," Kominato finally speaks, attracting all the attention and making his face turn red. Ei looks amused, his smile softening, and he seems on the verge of laughing.

“It changes the conversation. But… since Miyuki-senpai said that, I haven't stopped thinking about it.”

Oh.

Kanemaru, Kariba and Tojo know what the question will be. After all, by that assumption, the third and second years have not stopped harassing them because of that.

“Does your half-brother attend Seido?”

There's the bomb. Ei-san's body language becomes rigid, and once again, he uses the pole as a shield, putting a large distance between them.

But even though all his body language screams that he doesn't want to talk about it, he responds.

“He is.”

This may be their only chance to find out who is.

“Have you seen it?”

“Several times. It’s difficult not to notice him.”

“Does he look like you? Wait, half-siblings can have similar features?”

“I think so, Kanemaru, genetics is not as random as you might think," Tojo replies.

“I think we're pretty much alike," Ei answers. He doesn't sound insecure, as his answer is an absolute truth.

The children gather in a circle, as if discussing strategy for a baseball game, while Ei watches them like a cat.

“We are playing twenty questions?”

“That may be, Kanemaru. But we're lucky Ei-san doesn't answer yes or no.”

“Ah, but Tojo. Ei-san only gives us little hints.”

“Or maybe we are not asking the right questions, Kariba-kun.”

They all seem to agree with Kominato. Then they mumble and mumble until they have the last questions and return to Ei, who looks at them suspiciously.

“Ei-san," Kariba says nervously, "you know how your brother entered Seido?”

For a moment, the man's silence makes them think he has reached his limit.

“I heard he got a scholarship.”

Good, they all think as they let out a sigh. That means Rei recruited him.

The next person to ask is Tojo.

“Is he right-handed or left-handed?”

“He's left-handed, like me.”

Like him?

“Huh? But you threw with your right hand. We all saw them," Kanemaru replied.

“I'm ambidextrous," Ei says matter-of-factly.

A shiver runs through everyone's body. Because if Ei is ambidextrous but was originally left-handed....

Does that mean that he held back against our senpais?!

“One more question," says Ei, realizing what they've been getting at all this time.

Faced with this ultimatum, everyone gathers in a circle once again to discuss the last question.

“We should ask him about the position his brother plays," Kanemaru suggests.

“Didn't you say they didn't know each other? How would you know what position he plays?”

“Well, Tojo. Ei-san said he had already seen him and recognized him. So, he must know what position he plays after all the training he has come to see.”

“He didn't exactly say that... I don't think it counts to look at it from afar," Kominato says.

“What if we asked him about a characteristic of the half-brother's personality?” Kariba suggests.

“Wouldn't that be worse?” Kanemaru answers, "Let's not forget that they don't know each other.”

“So, what position does he play, is the question?”

“It's fine for me.”

“I agree.”

With that, it’s Kominato who asks the final question.

“Do you know what position he plays?”

Silence is the answer. Everyone breaks out in a cold sweat as more time passes and Ei doesn't respond. Maybe they crossed the line this time and now he hates them.

But soon Ei-san is just laughing lightly as he lifts his shades to look at them. His smile is one of tiredness, but at the same time full of energy.

“He's a pitcher," Ei-san replied quietly. Proud, judging by a quick glint in his eyes that disappears like smoke, and with confidence that moves something in them. Like some kind of warning target urging them to run.

He speaks of his brother... as if he were one of those monsters.

With that, Ei finally stops using the pole as a shield, and with a slight wave of his hand, he bids farewell to them as he turns his back on them and starts to leave the school grounds.

They want to say something. They almost reach out when a third-year yells at them in a way that makes their hair stand on end.

“Oi! first-years! What are you doing? Had you all forgotten that you have to run around field B? You'll be doing all my homework if you don't get your asses over here right now!”

And in response to the threat, the four run to the B field to join their teammates. They listen to the annoying shouts of Sawamura, who is crazy enough to have a tire strapped to his hip.

The infernal exercise doesn’t allow them to think about Ei-san's answers for now.

"Welcome to the second meeting about the mysterious Gaijin!"

Kanemaru excitedly shouts in front of all the first-years who stayed for dinner. Some are out of curiosity, others because they cannot finish their dinner in time, and they are about to vomit from the three bowls of rice they have to eat.

Of course, neither Furuya nor Sawamura is there. They are monsters who can finish their bowls only to throw balls into the net.

What envy...

“Why number two? Has there been another meeting before?”

“He's right, if we weren't there, shouldn't number one be better?”

Kanemaru blushes angrily as he clenches his hand into a fist.

“Well, the first meeting then!”

“Uh... is that necessary? The truth is, I don't care.” Someone says.

“I just want to eat my rice in peace...” another.

Kanemaru can't help but feel insulted.

"Of course it's necessary! Thanks to him and his mysterious brother, we have to put up with harassment from our superiors! Aren't you tired of running errands for them until they find out who the brother is?"

Kanemaru has had enough, that's why he agreed to accompany Kariba to the foreigner. He can no longer massage Jun-san's feet or give his allowance to buy drinks.

What an injustice!

Tojo stands beside him. In his hand, he holds a notebook in which he has written down all the things they found out about Ei-san.

“Well, Ei-san is playing baseball forever. He said he's been playing for as long as he can remember.”

“Didn't you ask him where he plays? Someone asks.

“He told Rei-san that he was on sabbatical. So, he is not attending for now to his college,” replies Kariba, who is sitting at one of the tables near Kanemaru.

“Next thing we know... he's ambidextrous," Tojo continues, earning a silence in the dining room that is soon replaced by horrified faces, "apparently he's left-handed from birth, just like his half-brother.”

“Really?”

“Wait, Tojo. Does that mean what I think it means?”

“The third-years are going to kill us! No! They'll take revenge and we'll suffer the consequences!”

“I think you're overreacting," Kominato whispers.

“Let's put our seniors aside, now that we know that Ei-san's brother is left-handed," Kariba says thoughtfully with a hand on his chin, "it should be easier to identify him by exclusion. Not many in the club are left-handed.”

Everyone in the dining room agrees.

“He said her brother was admitted for a scholarship, so Rei-san recruited him.”

“That should narrow the possibilities even further," says Haruichi. Kanemaru can only agree. “Left-handed and Rei recruiting him, we could ask her directly. I'm sure she won't refuse.”

“And lastly, Ei-san said that his brother is a pit..." Tojo's voice gets lower, he doesn't even manage to finish saying the word when he looks up and down in his notebook, "cher....

It's as if a huge light bulb turned on in the dining room and blinded them all.

“Left-handed," says Kanemaru.

“Pitcher," says Tojo like a robot.

“Recruited by Rei," adds Kariba, “and It’s difficult to not notice him.”

And only Haruichi is the one who dares to say a name with nervousness and a red face.

“Uh... Are we talking about Eijun-kun?”

Hell breaks loose in the dining hall for the second time.

Kanemaru doesn't care that his seniors, who are practicing at night, see them running like hell to the school's indoor bullpen to find both Furuya and Sawamura throwing against the net.

“Sawamura!” Everyone shouts at him.

Both stop when they hear them, Sawamura even slips off the makeshift mound.

“What the hell! You don't have to yell at me like that! What did I even do?”

"You bastard! Don't play innocent!" Kanemaru shouts from the entrance, "We know the truth, so come out and face the Third Years like a man! We're tired of being their slaves!"

“What are you talking about?! What truth?!”

It is a unique sight. Everyone shouts, but no one stops to look at the four slender figures in the distance.

“How can he be my brother? Are you out of your mind? I'm an only child too!”

“Well, he described you! Who else but you and your family would know that you entered Seido by scholarship?”

"GAHHH! HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT? ARE YOU A MIND READER? ARE YOU A PSYCHIC?"

“You Bakamura! don't you listen to what I'm telling you!?”

“OF COURSE I LISTEN TO YOU, BUT HAVE YOU LISTENED TO YOURSELF? WE DON'T EVEN LOOK ALIKE!”

And with that, the mysterious figures disappeared, leaving the first-years in their chaos.

“So what do you say, Coach? Don't you think it's a great idea?”

Beside her, Ota seems to be shaking with a mixture of excitement and fear. Her suggestion seems to stir something in both men, and Rei smiles as she adjusts her glasses to see the A-training field like Coach Katoka.

While the lack of light prevents Rei from fully reading the coach next to his shades, he already has a hunch that the coach is taking her words seriously.

“To tell you the truth, I would like to inquire about what young Ei said about our lineup," she said to continue the topic. "He has seen weaknesses in our players and knows how to identify problems that we haven’t even noticed. It would be worth trying to convince him before the summer training ends.”

“Are we really going to do that?” Ota asks insecurely. "The boy hasn't finished his studies yet.”

“We can tell him to take it as an internship. We can also offer to write a letter of recommendation if he needs one.”

It is a good plan. Any college graduate at the end of his or her career would want something like this. I'm sure it's an attractive offer for Ei-san.

“You really have your eye on that boy," Ota says.

“What can I say? My recruiter's instinct kicks in with a vengeance when I see him. The boy knows more than he's letting on.”

Besides, it's a stroke of luck that the brother of this mysterious young man attends Seido; no wonder why his face looked so familiar to Rei when she met him for the first time!

But who is this half-brother? She asks herself.

If only they knew who he was, so the boy could convince Ei to become a second trainer... only then might the management leave Katoka alone for a while.

"We will extend him an offer," Kataoka announces, "the first game against Kiryu is coming up in our training camp. If he accepts, we'll test him in the weeks before the match. If not, we won't insist, he's young and it's natural that he doesn't want that kind of responsibility.

If Ei-san accepts, the management would be more relaxed about the coach. Fresh blood and new opinions will certainly be good for the team.

Especially in the area that hurts Seido the most, their Achilles heel:

The pitchers.

The memory of his pitching comes to Rei's mind. A wall with his left arm. His right arm comes out so late that he doesn't give the batter time to react. His leadership with Kariba and the way they supported each other as a battery, even though they were strangers.

There's something there, and Rei wants it.

With Ei in Seido, Koshien may not be that.

A dream.

Eijun gets up when the alarm goes off on his phone, his whole body aching, screaming to stay in the warmth of the futon and not stop until the sun is at its peak.

But Eijun can't do that. He sits up first, blinks his eyes to finally stretch his arms, and breathes a sigh of relief as he feels and hears his bones creak from the first good night's sleep since he moved in.

Apparently, getting a dose of socialization is pretty good for his mind, even if it's just a rare version of twenty questions with fifteen-year-olds.

Her phone also has a couple of LINE notifications, most likely from Masamune and Yui.

Eijun is not wrong. When he unlocks it, he is greeted by a picture of Yui with all the kids from the Izumi Club smiling and making the peace sign with their hands.

Eijun sends you a sticker with little hearts, they all look so cute in this picture.

‘Coming out of our first practice game!’ That's what Yui's message says, which he sent yesterday, and Eijun didn't see until now, because he needed to sleep after days of insomnia and worries.

Well, at least now I know that neither the universe nor the world will collapse if my younger self and I touch.

It would have been nice if the universe had given him a clue. Worried that something might happen, Eijun could not sleep for several nights, waiting for the possible disaster that might come.

But nothing happened, which was strange considering that every significant action he took resulted in a butterfly effect; Masamune's parents' divorce and his change of surname (the former unproven, considering he never knew Hongo's family situation in the first place), and Yui's change of school he attended.

What will it be now? he wonders.

Although... technically, these are changes that occurred before Eijun time-traveled or something like that.

So, isn't the term alternate universe better?

No, it's better not to think about it. I'll get a headache, and I already feel Erick is going to scold me.

So he goes about his routine, walking down a small wooden staircase from the room he has called his room. He calmly walks to the kitchen to open the refrigerator and take out his last carton of milk and a piece of sweet bread, which he devours standing up.

Masamune's message is more parental. It has practically more than ten unread messages, and that's because Masamune sends each question he wants to ask you separately, instead of writing everything in a single text box.

“How are you?"

"Are you eating well?"

"Have you found your brother yet?"

"Do you have a job?"

"Have you been to Seido yet?"

"Did you sleep well?"

"Did you go to the doctor?"

"Are you feeling much better now?

There are so many questions that Eijun might have to answer with the equivalent of the Bible in a text message, and after some thought he decides to summarize his answer.

‘I am fine, Masamune-san. Although I haven't been able to sleep for the past few days, I had a good night's rest today. I ate well, but I didn't go running in the morning because I'm not used to the surroundings yet, I might get lost.

I have been looking for job offers, but I think I will still apply to work in a mini-market like in Sendai.

I haven't seen a doctor yet. I don't need one yet, Masamune-san. But I'll keep my promise that if something happens, I'll go, and you'll be the first to know.’

Eijun sighs at the end before going into the bathroom to take a long shower. The hot water does wonders for his body and when he looks in the mirror, he tries not to grimace at what he sees.

His hands wipe away the lingering steam. Revealing his being.

It's so strange to look so disheveled. If Coach Johan had seen him like that, he would have been reprimanded for breaking one of the Yankees' rules; short hair and no beard.

"A matter of discipline, Eijun. Your image is as important as your performance. I can see that won't be a problem, though."

It's not as if Eijun had the genetics to have those huge beards he later saw on Americans. At best, he would have a goatee like his grandfather, and since his beard grows unevenly, he never liked to let it grow.

Seeing himself in the mirror, with hair that's messy and slightly greasy from using bad shampoos, and an uneven, itchy beard from refusing to buy shaving cream and a razor because he thinks it's unnecessary, hurts him more than he wants to admit.

Eijun promises himself that he will buy some as soon as he finds a job.

For now, he wants to continue researching where he can find schools that will allow him to take a single exam to get a basic education certificate, even if it means going to a night school.

Once dressed and dry. Eijun continues his search and is happy when he doesn't have to investigate much further to find what he is looking for.

Kokubunji Prefecture welcomes you to the Nintei Shiken certification program!

We understand that there are exceptional cases where they cannot complete their basic education; this program is dedicated to certifying Shogakko, Click on the following link to read the call for applications.

Good luck!

Eijun does not stop his thumb as he presses his thumb on the link with a happiness he thought he had lost.

Finally! My papers!

Erick would be so proud of him.

After reading the call for applications and realizing that he has what it takes (bless the moment he decided to stay in Sendai to get his papers in order), Eijun downloaded the guide to prepare for the knowledge test.

It should be simple, Eijun never was a genius or a model student, but he’s not that dumb to not know basic things. What he doesn't know, he'll look it up in some public library, so that a simple YouTube video doesn't kill his cell phone's internet.

Perhaps his happiness at finally beginning to take control of his life prevents him from being attentive to his surroundings when he arrives in Seido to see the hellish training Kataoka is putting them through.

Eijun does not notice four small figures following him, even though they are carrying large bags.

“If I'm not mistaken..." he mutters to himself as he squints as he watches his younger self fail to catch a fly ball, "they should already have a practice game for the summer. Since I missed the spring games...”

Then again, maybe it doesn’t matter. Seido lost the Spring Koshien in this timeline, so it's not like the games they would play as a replacement for that failure mattered at all.

Eijun is so deep in thought that he maybe break his own jumping record when someone taps him on the shoulder.

He hisses at whoever touches him without warning. He feels like a cat, completely on guard and with bristly skin; surely his eyes would reflect this feeling if it were not for the sunglasses.

Eijun stops his hostility when he sees four girls backing away.

Girls?

Seido caps. White, blue, and red uniforms. Black and brown hair.

Wait, they're the managers.

Eijun may be embarrassed, but he has enough experience humiliating himself in front of women to care.

He can hear Erick's voice in the distance, the fool laughing at the top of his lungs as he shouts at him: “Eres un espanta viejas! Esfuérzate un poco más y también espantarás a los hombres!”**

“Shut up..." he mumbled as low as he could to his ghost, "as if you were better with women than me...”

Ignoring his initial surprise. Eijun apologizes to them in passing for their behavior. Watching them try to remember their names without success.

It’s normal not to remember them. Eijun has not interacted much with them. He shouldn't feel bad about not knowing their names after not seeing or hearing from them for ten years.

“Sorry," says the black-haired girl, "we were told that you don't like to interact with people very much, and we took you by surprise.”

Well, that’s not true at all.

We didn't mean to, “said the one with the short hair.”

“We just came to say hello," says the girl with the two braids.

“And... to ask a favor.”

The last one to speak has a very familiar look. A low, side ponytail. Her body language is not very confident and shows a lot of shyness.

Wait, I think I remember you.

What was his name?

Shoshinata?

Yoshikara?

“Let us introduce ourselves first. She's Natsukawa Yui," the black-haired girl says as she points to the short-haired girl who greets him.

“Umemoto Sachiko,” the girl with the pigtails greet him too.

“Yoshikawa Haruno”

Ah! Haruno-chan!

Now I remember.

“And I am Fujiwara Takiko. It's nice to finally meet the one everyone in Seido is talking about.”

Eijun almost wants to extend his hand but holds back. He still hasn't gotten it into his head that this is not the way to greet people here.

“The pleasure is mine. Tell me, what can I do for Seido managers?”

And as always, every time he opens his mouth. He sees sinister smiles on their faces.

Nothing is right! Nothing is right! How can these girls cause so much terror?

“You see, we heard the first-years picking on one of their classmates, a pitcher, because according to them, this pitcher has all the characteristics you told them," Fujiwara says.

“So, to put an end to this witch hunt that has been going on in Seido since you arrived," Natsukawa continues, "would you let us fix it to put an end to the alleged kinship?”

“With all due respect, you look like a homeless!” Umemoto shouts, pointing her finger at him, "If you go on like this, you'll give the school a bad name!”

“Umemoto-senpai! You shouldn't be so rude!”

Eijun couldn't agree more.

A homeless man?

How bad do I look to her!?

It was one thing to think about his appearance in the mornings and another to have girls tell you that he's ugly as hell.

Unexpectedly, Eijun's arms are grabbed and he is forced to sit on a chair out of nowhere (seriously, where did that even come from?) while one of the girls puts a plastic blanket with flowers on it, covering him completely and squeezing his neck.

His sunglasses and cap are removed, and he lets the four girls watch him with narrowed eyes. One of them even make a square with her fingers, as if she wanted to make a portrait of Eijun.

“He has a good face for a homeless," says Umemoto, "but that beard makes him look like an old man.”

An old man!? I'm twenty-five!

Strike one!

The girls have no mercy, it's like having thousands of arrows pierce his heart while he's in a batter's box and couldn't hit any ball that is thrown at him.

“He has nice eyes, too. But those dark circles under his eyes are horrible," comments Natsukawa.

Strike two!

“His hair is filthy," Natsukawa grabs one of his locks, "look how greasy it is, it's a crime against beauty! It would be nice if only he'd take better care of it, but it's all split ends and brittle. There's no choice but cut it."

Strike three! —Batter out!

Eijun is sure that he has fallen into a coma, and a depressive aura surrounds him.

He had never been told so many horrible things in such a short time! Not even Erick had been so heartless, and he liked to make fun of him!

“Don't worry, that's why we're here! There's nothing better to reveal a kinship than the physical!” Haruno says sheepishly.

“I don't think genetics works that way…" he mumbles, his soul almost out of his body, ready to follow the karmic cycle of reincarnation, or perhaps to finally free himself from his earthly bonds and remain in Nirvana.

The sound of something sharp brings his soul back to his body, only to see a razor in Umemoto's hands.

A nervousness settles in his stomach.

“W-wait, do you even know how to use that? he asks worriedly, squirming in the chair.

“I see my brother using it every day. How hard can it be?” answers the girl.

Very difficult, Eijun thinks as he remembers all the times he cut himself with one of those. He couldn't master it until his Aibou took pity on him and explained to him with everything and demonstration.

Eijun just closes his eyes, accepting his fate when he feels the shaving cream on his cheeks and the cold edge of the razor.

"For God's sake..." Fujiwara whispers as they leave Ei (it took them a long time to officially ask for his name), but can you blame them? They went to him intending to end the witch hunt in Seido, and now that they have achieved their goal, the last thing they want is for Seido to see him.

If only his eyes could be brighter... It’s like seeing Chris in his lowest. She thinks.

“Do I look that bad?” Ei asks, making them all blush deeply as he looks back with regret. His eyes still have slight circles under them, beauty and face care products can only help so much, but...

“It is the opposite of bad," Natsukawa says, tears welling up in her shining eyes. Alarming Ei.

Yoshikawa took care of washing and cutting his hair. Natsukawa was careful to put on an activated charcoal face mask as soon as Umemoto finished shaving him, and separately, to apply some concealer to his dark circles when the mask time was up, and some balm to his dry lips.

The result is this and they all have a single thought in common.

We can't let them see him! He's an angel!

How could he possibly be related to that loudmouth!?

Only Yoshikawa is the only one who dares to say what they think.

“You are... Sawamura-kun is your half-brother?”

Ei-san just smiles ruefully. But even with that, it's enough to make Umemoto swoon from excess handsomeness.

“Does it show so much...?”

It shows even to the end of the universe!

To his misfortune, Rei was passing by when she saw the five of them.

The girls, knowing their plan that no one will see this beautiful being, fail; do the first thing that comes to their minds. In cheerleader formation, they hold out their hands and wave them as if they have pom-poms in them to present the angel behind them.

They don't even ask if his surname is the same as Sawamura-kun, us just hard and pure faith.

“Admire! The true face of Sawamura Ei!”

It's better to admit the truth at once, isn't it? Save Ei-san the suffering.

"It's like seeing two drops of water!"

They watch Rei's glasses crack within seconds of their presentation.

“Oh, my...” It’s all that she says as she cleans her broken glasses.

Chapter Text

"You know, sometimes I feel like this is all a dream. Being here, with you. The Yankees. All of this."

Eijun listens to Erick talking quietly on the balcony. The lights of the city blind him for a moment while in the distance, he can see the stadium where his next victory will take place.

All or nothing. The Yankees' comeback season after a very bad run; Eijun and Erick's first season as the principal battery against the team's sworn enemy: the Dodgers.

Facing Shohei Ohtani and Rocky Sasaki is a dream for Eijun; finally, all his hard work has paid off.

All the tears, sweat and blood he has shed finally reward him and Eijun thinks he could die of happiness the next day if it means coming back here.

“You are tlling me!" he replies with a smile, still looking out at the stadium, "I feel like I'm on cloud nine myself. I'm so excited I feel like I can stay awake all night!”

"I hope you don't, Mr. Acejun."

“Of course not!” Says Eijun slightly offended, "I'm not that arrogant. I know what's at stake."

“You talk as if losing meant giving our souls to the devil.”

“Well, nope. But losing means that our words are just that: Words.”

And Eijun, he doesn't want that to be the case. He wants everyone to see Erick's and his talent. He wants America to watch them and see the natural disaster they are and the terrible mistake their teams made by underestimating them as rookies, when the two of them are perfect teammates—the perfect battery.

Deep inside, a horrible part of him hopes that the first team that took him in and his coach will see him and look at what they lost.

But as soon as that thought settles in, Eijun dismisses it.

What did Erick say? 'Revenge is evil, kills the soul and poisons it.'

Especially when he knows perfectly well that his Shisho—, hum, Chris... is still there, pursuing his dream.

The team did not lose Eijun, he left of his own free will. He left because Chris deserved the best and Eijun wasn’t the best.

He was just an inexperienced foreign pitcher with no talent other than pitching. His position was fragile when facing other pitchers who had been bred for it: Pitching.

Eijun hears a faint chuckle, which makes him stop looking at the stadium and clear his mind.

The wind gently caressed Erick's short, reddish hair. His brown eyes, deep and turning crimson in the right light, looked up at Eijun with amusement.

"Nothing you do will remain as words Eijun," Erick says. A nostalgic smile appears on his face. "You promised me a life where I could play baseball as much as I wanted. You promised I would never sweep the streets again or go for a day without eating. Look at us! We’re in a four-star hotel! Eating food I never thought I'd taste and playing baseball like I'd only dreamed of. I haven't touched a garbage cart in years, and no one treats me badly just because of who I am! I can't ask for more, Eijun.”

Erick whispers the last words. He says them so softly that Eijun raises an eyebrow, almost asking him to repeat them when he sees Erick with a thoughtful look on his face.

His eyes take on an unfamiliar gleam as they seem to focus on Eijun. Soon, four quick blinks and a few murmurs in Spanish—Eijun promises himself to learn the language to better understand his Aibou, seem to bring Erick back to reality.

"Ignore that. I got too sentimental," he finally says, smiling from ear to ear. Erick closes his eyes, highlighting the mole under his left eye.

Eijun snorts in amusement and nods. He leans back on the railing to continue watching a city that never sleeps.

Eijun guesses that he is also living in a dream. He hadn't imagined reaching so high when, in his second year of high school, he barely realized that the world was much bigger than Seido. Maybe even Japan.

Erick comes closer, their shoulders touching. Eijun accepts the warmth even more when a cold wind blows and makes him shiver.

"Eijun," Erick says softly. The weight of his head on Eijun's shoulder becomes more noticeable, and Eijun glances sideways at him, seeing a thoughtful expression. With his partner's eyes seeing something beyond the stadium and the lights, he asks, "Can I ask you something?"

Eijun can only quietly laugh.

"What's with the shyness? You never inquire about asking me a question. I’ll just answer like the idiot I am.”

That makes Erick laugh.

“Haha! Even you have to set limits, Aibou. Not everyone likes answering questions that invade their privacy.”

“Well, I'm not just anyone.”

“What nerve. Are you sure you're Japanese?” Erick breaks off, bumping his shoulder against Eijun’s as their laughs fill the balcony.

"Shoot, Aibou. I promise I won't get angry.”

His response causes Aibou's laughter to slowly diminish until only the sound of air remains. Erick falls silent for a few moments before resting his head on Eijun’s shoulder again, as if he doesn't want to look Eijun in the eye.

“Have you ever thought about going back to Japan?”

For some, that question may have seemed to come out of nowhere—something spontaneous.

Eijun knows Erick well enough to know better. Although Aibou is outgoing when it comes to what he likes, he tends to withdraw when he hesitates or when he's under too much stress.

"Is something bothering you?"

“It's just curiosity. Sometimes I think about my country. My mother, my sister, my brother… My friends," Erick explain, almost whispering. He looks longingly toward the stadium and adds, "I wonder if that old man is watching me, feeling sorry for walking out of our lives and leaving us. Although… Well, it's not like I'm going to forgive him or something.”

Curiosity?

There's more than curiosity for him to ask these things.

But for now, Eijun will let it go.

Just as he never asks about ‘La Bestia’, despite having woken Erick from bad dreams about that train, he won't ask about this either if Erick doesn't want to talk about it.

The wind touches them both, and Eijun can't help but close his eyes and enjoy it.

Truth be told, that thought was constant in his first year in America. It was so scary and lonely. He had nothing and no one to help him beyond the scholarship money that kept him in the country and the monthly allowance his parents sent him.

Eijun called them at least once a week—He wonders when he stopped.

Maybe since grandpa died.

Many times, he also wondered if Okumura looked up his name and watched his games, that perhaps, the Kohai's he cared so much about stalked the social networks of the teams he entered to find out about him.

That perhaps, Okumura would be the first to say, "I'm sorry."

But that never happened. Neither when Eijun left Japan nor when he decided to stay in America.

Sometimes, he wonders if the wolf boy is even still playing.

"You're no different."

"I thought you were different."

Eijun likes to convince himself that Okumura's last words to him don't still hurt him today.

Perhaps they won't in the future.

He also thinks of Chris. His shisho was always there for him, helping him with culture shock and instructing him with Animal-san in his first step as catcher.

However, Chris was not fully aware of the latter.

Eijun would rather commit harakiri than take advantage of his former senpai any more than he already has.

But years of that lay ahead. Eijun hasn't thought about his homeland since then. He has so many more important things here. Not when he finally feels like he's somebody. That he has accomplished something.

"Sometimes," he replies, resting his head on his partner's shoulder, "but right now, I have no reason to go back. Not when I finally have a decent apartment and amazing comrades. Not when I have a great trainer and the coolest partner I could ask for.”

His body feels light, and for once in a long time, he feels like he can open his heart; the words come out of his mouth without thinking. They are sincere and full of truth.

"Wouldn't it be great if we were together forever, Aibou?"

Eijun feels Erick move away slightly. Eijun looks at him in confusion as Erick turns away, covering his face with his two hands as he trembles.

"Are you all right?" Eijun asks, growing worried as Erick's face grows darker and darker.

He knows what it's like when Erick gets a fever. His face and ears always take on that dark blush.

"D-don't tell me you have a fever!" Eijun says, even more alarmed when Erick bends over and begins to tremble. Eijun grabs Erick by the shoulders to keep him from falling to the ground due to sudden weakness in his legs.

“W-wait! I'll call the trainer! No! The doctor! I'm sure he can give you something—!"

"No, Eijun! Just give me a second!”

Eijun listens. He stands as still as a statue, his eyes bristling and alert for any bad signal Erick might give.

But in the end, nothing happens. His Aibou removes his hands from his face, and Eijun is struck by how strange it is to see him avoid eye contact. He wonders if he really shouldn't call Doc Lewis to check on his partner.

"I'm fine, I promise," Erick says with a soft smile. Even though his eyes look like they're about to cry, he continues, "Your words just… surprised me.”

Eijun feels he can breathe easily. He’s about to suggest that they need to go back inside so Erick can rest when his Aibou grabs his hands.

Anyone from his home country would be outraged by this action. But not Eijun. He has always been expressive, seeking physical contact with others to the point of being scolded for his lack of awareness of personal space.

Their eyes meet. The light from the balcony makes his crimson color, which piques his curiosity, stand out even more.

Their hands together feel rough. A symptom of the thousands of hours Erick has spent practicing, achieving the swing that Eijun is enraptured by every time he sees him swing.

"Te quiero, aibou."* Erick says softly in a low, cotton-soft tone. It's quiet, but loud enough for Eijun to hear but not understand.

He doesn't know any Spanish; he can barely say "hola," and the only things he can be sure he understands are the little insults Erick sometimes blurts out—and that's only because of the tone of voice he uses when he says them.

That's why his Aibou teases him so much, always plotting things in a language Eijun still doesn't understand, despite how long they've known each other.

God, does that make me a bad friend? Sure it does.

In all fairness, though... Erick doesn't know many Japanese besides a few greetings and words he recognizes from the anime he watches. Eijun should take advantage of that and also make evil plans while Erick doesn't understand him.

"What...?" Eijun risks saying, sounding dumber than he already is.

That seems to work. Erick looks at him incredulously and then snorts with amusement that ends up in laughter that surely people on the street can hear.

"You... You really are something, Eijun! Haha!"

“Wait?! This isn't fair! What did you say to me?!"

"Uhh..." he says with amusement, a fox-like grin appearing on his face. "Why don't you find out for yourself? You've spent enough time with me to know Spanish by now.”

“Yokai!”

“Prefiero el término de Nahual.” **

“I don't understand that either! But it sure isn't anything good!"

“Haha!”

Eijun receives only a friendly punch on his shoulder in response. Erick's fist stays there, conveying a message Eijun doesn't understand, especially when Erick's eyes return to that haze.

"It might sound selfish, but I firmly believe that you're the best pitcher for me, and I'm the best catcher for you," Erick says in a soft tone. Eijun doesn't know if Erick just wants to talk quietly or if he wants to start mumbling. "It's silly but, I was afraid you wanted to go back to Japan to look for that… amazing catcher you told me about. That you...

Erick tries. Eijun watches as his Aibou tries to say the words he has in his mind but only manages to build up a little frustration as his face distorts in the same way as when you give a child a lemon to suck on.

“I can't even say it," Erick whispers at last, his fingers tightening his frown, "it's such a painful word to me that I wouldn't dare ever relate it to you. I would never dare put you on the same level as that old man.”

No one says anything, and in the end, Erick sighs and stretches out his arms.

“Let's go inside. I need to sleep.”

And only when his Aibou is about to enter the room, Eijun’s heart speaks again.

“I could never leave you," he says. All his sincerity is poured into five words.

His heart, for some reason, beats harder as Erick turns and his crimson eyes glow with longing. The wind kisses them both, moving their hair slightly.

“Tú... Realmente no sabes cuanto te quiero.”

Looking at the ground is a new habit of his. Eijun has never been one to develop compulsive habits. The closest he comes is when he's on the mound, using the repetition of movement to stay grounded, focused, and present when the adrenaline is too much, or when he needs to shake off frustration and fear in stressful situations.

However, Eijun doesn't have his cap, and Rei-san's gaze on him is intense.

Even though watching her glasses break was amusing for a moment, when she puts them back on after cleaning them, Eijun remembers that there’s no turning back now.

The managers have fully exposed him. He can officially say that none of his plans will work out the way Eijun wants them to, no matter how hard he tries.

Undoubtedly, he’s God and Buddha's favorite soldier. Otherwise, Eijun's bad luck is inexplicable.

While this may save him from a lot of awkwardness, he’s not mentally prepared to interact with Seido.

"When I first saw you," Rei says in a serious tone, "I thought you reminded me of someone. You had this… familiar look, but I didn't know who."

Eijun nods, accepting his fate.

Should I make my own boshi and kyokatabira for my funeral? ***

Your unkempt appearance prevented me from thinking more deeply about it. But now that our dear managers have taken care of it, I can see how much you resemble Sawamura-kun."

"Too much, Rei-san!" One of the managers, whom Eijun does not recognize, says, "We can't believe that big mouth has such a handsome brother!"

The words don't flatter him or feel good. But Eijun smiles ruefully at Rei when she pushes her glasses back.

"I assume Sawamura-kun doesn't know yet," she says. It's not a question; it's a statement, to which Eijun nods. “Is this secrecy necessary? The normal thing to do would be to talk to Sawamura-kun's family.”

"No!" comes a sudden scream. Eijun even rises from his chair, startling the managers, who recoil with faint shrieks.

Eijun blinks, aware of how a man close to 6'2" must look when he scares 5'4" girls. Carefully, he sits back in the small chair and tries to convince Rei not to call his parents.

"I... They don't know me, Rei-san. I'm a stranger like any other. My da— I mean, my father doesn't even know I exist! Calling them would lead to an awkward conversation with him that I wouldn't know how to handle.”

Besides, even if he excuses himself by saying that he ‘born by accident’ when his dad went to Tokyo in his youth—before he was even his mom’s boyfriend, he doesn't know how his grandfather and she will take it! It could cause a family rift, and he couldn't bear that.

He could never forgive himself for causing their rupture and leaving his younger self in that situation.

So, it's okay to cause Hongo's parents' divorce, but not yours? That annoying voice asks.

It's not the same thing!

How’s that?

“Doesn't he know?”

His father is not going to like being made a scapegoat, nor will he like being called the worst father in the universe, even though he's not.

Forgive me for everything, dad.

“He went to Tokyo when he was younger and met my mother at a club, and… well, one thing led to another, and here I am," he says, putting on the calmest face he can manage. He tries not to let his fingers itch with anxiety or his voice crack. "My mother never wanted to tell him she was pregnant. She couldn't do it anyway, since they didn't exchange numbers."

Could it be that he said it too fast? Does it sound credible? On the one hand, it kills the fact that his father knows about him, but it leaves open the question of how he even knows his younger self attends Seido.

But he's already got that covered, or so he thinks. Although he won't deny that his life would be easier if Rei didn't notice that detail.

How complicated...

“So, how did you know you had a half-brother?”

Of course, in these matters neither fate nor the universe is kind to him.

“A fluke," he replies, trying to make his voice sound as serious as possible as he closes his eyes to remember the past, the only way he could appeal to Rei to believe him.

A shared experience, a mutual feeling.

It was a game lost from the start. The pitcher was so young and naive, but full of energy and hope. It was Eijun's last high school game before his school closed and was demolished. The only ‘official’ Akagi Middle School game; that just as it began, ended.

"I found an article about the closing and demolition of Akagi Middle School," he says, avoiding looking at Rei. Even so, he can see her take a deep breath. "I don't know what possessed me to read it, let alone go see the game. Maybe it was the title, or the fact that it mentioned the demolition, or maybe it was curiosity about what the kids thought of the destruction of their school, since I never experienced anything like that.”

It's sad to remember that game, and nostalgic to narrate it to Rei, as if he had seen it from afar. He's confident that, at least, that game will remain the same in this universe as he remembers it. He was just another spectator watching eight amateur boys and a girl play against a team with clear advantages in experience and playing techniques.

“The pitcher was bad. Very bad," he says with a slight smile at the memory. “He had no technique or grip whatsoever. But he still managed to give the ball interesting effects. You could tell from far away that he was holding back because his catcher couldn't keep up with him.”

The thought of Nobu squeezes his heart, too. He was another important person and catcher who cared for him.

Come to think of it, Eijun never spoke to his friends again after deciding to stay in the United States either. He was so busy with his career finally taking off and with Erick who...

“I saw something special in his last release. Potential, attitude, strength. I saw the qualities of an ace in him. Too bad his pitch went sideways like that, if only he had more stable form and knew at least the four seams, the outcome of that game might have been different.”

Or maybe not. Eijun is not naïve enough to think that one person can act as a one-man army in baseball. His friends, though supportive, did not have the same motivation or Eijun's obsession with baseball.

Is it a bit self-centered of me to give that description of myself?

"I think the last thing I expected was for the pitcher to start a slap fight," he says, amused. He lets out a slight chuckle at the distant memory. "But it was in that match that I got to know him better and realized how alike we are. I wanted to talk to him, but I don't think he took my approach well after he lost his only official game. So, I just watched him in silence.”

"Looking like... They look like two peas in a pod..." Eijun listens to the manager’s whisper.

"If only they weren't older, they could pass for twins without a problem."

"I don't think so. Ei-san is calmer than Sawamura-kun."

If only the managers knew...

It seems her reasoning worked. Rei is silent for a few moments. The managers are slightly uncomfortable between them until Rei rearranges her glasses.

"Have you ever thought about fate, Ei-san?"

Eijun doesn't like it when her glasses glow mysteriously. He never liked it when Masamune did that, and he doesn't like it when Rei does it either—even though he's known her longer.

Glasses shining never bode well for him.

"Maybe," he answers.

"Believe it or not, I was at that game, too," Rei says calmly with a sly smile. "Like you, I don't know what possessed me to watch a field game. It was probably just my instinct telling me that I would find something good there."

“And did you?”

Maybe that's not what he should have asked. But the insecure part of him couldn't help himself. He already knew that the Rei of his time held him in high regard. That she trusted him. From day one, she told him that he would be a great ace. While she wasn't wrong, Eijun could never help but feel that he didn't meet the criteria, no matter how hard he tried.

"You're not my ace," Okumura said, fists clenched. He lowered his face, hiding it under his blond hair. Eijun stood frozen in the inner bullpen. His chest ached from the wolf boy's hurtful words.

There are people around them. Eijun does not want to stay here, not when everyone is looking at them with worried faces. There is no one to intervene or stop them. Neither Kuramochi nor Kazuya is around to ease the tension. Kanemaru is nowhere to be seen.

"I—!"

“Shut up! You're no longer the pitcher I promised to follow! You're just like the others; you only think of yourself, Senpai. Are you so obsessed with following Miyuki that we don't matter anymore? Surely you'll say, ‘What does it matter? My place is already secured.’ Isn’t you?”

The ball in his hands drops with a thud.

He...

He didn't...

"I don't—!"

"When you pitch..." Okumura whispers, still refusing to look Sawamura in the eye. "Who do you think of when you pitch, Sawamura-senpai? Me or Miyuki-senpai?" Who's the one crouching at home, catching your every pitch? Who's in the outfield? Who's at third, first, and second? Covering your back?"

Eijun’s throat closes.

It's a lie. Okumura can't do this to him. He can't when Koshien starts in two weeks…

"Sawamura-senpai," he mutters again. This time, he raises his face to reveal blue eyes looking at him with anger and disappointment. He can't describe the other; he'll cry in front of everyone if he tries.

"Who do you think you're making artwork with every time you climb the mound?"

When he doesn't answer, Okumura tightens his mask before dropping it to the ground.

"You're just a selfish pitcher." He says this as he walks out, leaving in front of more than half the team.

"I think I did," Rei says, pulling him out of his memories with her voice. "And I think something similar to you, but I didn't mention fate just because of your brother. I mentioned it because of you.”

Eijun blinks, gathering the strength and courage to look Rei in the eye and pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about.

"I think it's no coincidence that we both went to the same game and ended up interested in the same person. I once heard that luck is a skill, and now I believe it.”

What?

Eijun is relieved that Rei empathizes with him and doesn't consider him a madman, but…

"Ei-san, Coach Kataoka and I have a proposal that might interest you. Maybe we could help you meet Sawamura-kun.”

Eijun could have sworn he heard Masamune laugh.

Should he think about it? He already senses what they will probably want from him. Nothing is a coincidence with people like Rei and Masamune, who have a good eye.

Is Eijun ready to face his past self? Of course not.

But, if he thinks about it, Eijun knows he'll continue acting like a scaredy cat. He'll watch from far away and refuse to interact with others because he's uncomfortable. Even worse, he'll act like interacting with them means the end of the world—even though he's already proven that's not the case.

And besides, he needs a steady job. Even when he skips meals and buys what's about to expire in the stores because of how cheap it is, Eijun can already see the end of his savings, the application to volunteer to teach languages to others doesn't pay him enough to pay Hinata-san the rent for the apartment when the months Masamune-san paid him run out.

At least they could have been offered this when I had my high school papers in my hands...

Heck, he doesn’t even have his elementary school papers yet.

“Achu!”

“Coach, are you all right?”

“I'm fine, Yui-kun! It's just a little cold.”

“Or maybe they're talking about you," Rika says with amusement.

“I expect only the good things, Ha!”

Chapter 7: Like two drops of water.

Walking with Rei in front of all the Seido children seems to have become a habit. Although Eijun has overcome his nervousness about being at school, his stomach seems to disagree. A deep, dark pit forms in his stomach—ready to force him to do one or two things at any moment:

Run or look for the nearest trash can to vomit in.

It feels even more awkward when no one seems to recognize him at first—his prized Yankees cap is politely returned by the managers with his shades—and after a few seconds, they stand with their mouths agape, muttering his last name:

"S-Sawamura?"

“Is it him?”

“Baka! The Sawamura we know is a first-year student, and he's short. This guy is a monster!”

“But he has his whole face!”

“Now we know who the American spy is!”

Eijun simply smiles and shakes his head, unable to resist the joy he feels at seeing them overreact so dramatically.

Children.

Should he pray for his younger self? The managers told him about the witch hunt he accidentally caused. Knowing Kuramochi and Isashiki, he wouldn't be surprised if his younger self was upset from now on.

He feels nostalgic walking toward Kataoka's cubicle, but not for getting scolded or asking questions, but to talk to Kataoka and Rei as adults and not as trainers and student anymore.

Kataoka's office is just as he remembers it: There are the stairs he has to climb, the blue door that Rei gently touches, and a low and serene voice inviting them to come in.

The same sofas, the huge desk. Kataoka with the players' diaries on his desk, and Ota next to him, who greets him from a distance.

Eijun returns the gesture, he bows a little to greet them both, without his voice sounding nervous.

“We are glad to see that you are feeling much better," Kataoka greeted him.

Even when everything is as he remembers it, the feeling that he is on the wrong side accompanies him. He had still seen Rei in his original time, but he never got to see Kataoka and Ota beyond formal email exchanges.

Perhaps, he thinks, they were also the reason Rei was able to come to America.

Eijun does not remember if of all the emails and messages to his phone that he ignored when Erick died, there were any of two of them.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Uhh... Sawamura-san?"

Not that Ota is wrong, but with what he said to Rei, she must think his last name is different.

"That's correct," he says with a slight smile, calming the club president while ignoring Rei's raised eyebrow. "But since there are two Sawamuras here, it would be better if you called me by my first name. I'm more used to it."

"Is that your last name? Sawamura?" Rei mutters to him, as if she doesn't believe him. Eijun just laughs nervously as he pulls his wallet out of his pants pocket. The ID obtained in Sendai glitters as Rei confirms the truth herself.

"It's a funny coincidence," he tells them as he passes his ID to Kataoka and Ota.

"I thought I would see an American ID," Kataoka mentions as he hands the ID back to Eijun.

"When I came to Japan, I lost it—I mean, it was stolen. It's a long story! The paperwork to replace it is hell, but I don't think I'll need it for a while anyway."

“Why?”

“I was planning to finish my studies here or start working right away. Whichever comes first won't be a problem since I have papers here.”

"Don't you plan to finish college, Ei-san?" Rei asks. Her voice has a slight hint of concern.

Eijun simply shrugs as he looks at his ID photo and how awful he looks in it. Not as much as he did when he looked in the mirror a few days ago, though. At least then, he didn't have a scruffy beard, dark circles under his eyes, or messy hair.

It's easier to tell them his original plan. Half of the truth.

"I was planning on trying out professional baseball teams rather than dropping out of college," he blurts out, gaining everyone's attention. "I was planning on switching from in-person to online classes to finish college, at least if I got accepted in a team."

“And what if not?” Kataoka asks, his hands covering part of his mouth, a typical position that Eijun remembers well.

“I would continue college. At the end of my gap year, I’ll return to America if I have no luck with what I am looking for.”

Well, that's not true. As far as Eijun knows, he doesn't even have the paperwork to apply for a visa yet, and he's not enrolled in a university for an exchange program. But what they don't know won't hurt them.

The three adults look at each other, perhaps not quite convinced by his words, like seriously doubting Eijun's decisions.

However, it's not like they can do anything about his non-existent schooling. He hasn't taken the primary exam yet; the institution will interview him to decide if he can skip it and go straight to high school.

"Well, even with this, our offer to you can still work," Rei says. Eijun can't help but smile faintly. Even if she's not the Rei he knows, she's still the Rei with a terrifying instinct that once she catches something with her teeth, she won't let go. "Something tells me you'd be good for us. Our children could learn a lot from you."

Eijun anxiously wiggles his fingers. Rei sits on the couch and motions for him to sit next to her. It's a friendly gesture that he finds uncomfortable, but he still accepts it.

He sits further away from her. Not enough to be obvious, but he wants to keep some distance, wishing he could put on the shades to have at least another barrier between them.

Eijun doesn't know why he still believes he can handle this—that he can look at them without his heart aching and his stomach twisting.

Kataoka keeps looking at him, judging him.

"Do you... Do you want me as a co-coach?"

It's obvious. Too obvious. Eijun just wants to get to the point and minimize the pain.

"From the way you say it, it sounds like you were almost expecting this," Rei says.

"You're not subtle at all, Rei-san," Eijun replies calmly. He closes his eyes for a few seconds and counts to ten to calm his pounding heart. "Your gaze gives you away.”

“Ho...?"

Eijun averted his gaze, and his face turned slightly red with embarrassment. He spoke without thinking, perhaps because he had been lonely and needed more human contact. Maybe it's because—despite his discomfort, they're all important to him, and being cold with them hurts more than anything else.

His problems with Seido did not include them. At least, Eijun accepted that long ago when he finally matured.

But can he blame them when Kataoka wasn't even in his third year? Rei even helped him go to America when he thought he had ruined his life. Ochiai and Oto had told him many times to consider the U-18 proposal and the draft, but Eijun was too stubborn and blind to listen.

What was the point of making peace with Ochiai over a game of shogi if his own stupidity ended up ruining everything?

“When I arrived in Sendai, I worked for a few months as a co-trainer for ten- to fifteen-year-olds. At first, I didn't want to, but I met a man who was just as stubborn, if not more so, than you are, Rei-san.”

As memories mingle, the children of the Izumi Club—Yui—and the former or future Seido can sketch a faint smile on Eijun's face.

He didn't want to train them; the fear of change overwhelmed him, and seeing Yui where he didn't belong didn't help after watching documentaries and doomsday theories about time travel on YouTube.

That's why he becomes conflicted. Being with those children ultimately became an escape and a pillar for his now chaotic and broken life.

Eijun also understood, in a very small way, why his partner loved teaching so much. He felt joy when the children accomplished things and improved. He was proud of them when they applied their knowledge in the diamond field. Their moves—though amateurish, were effective.

The freedom to play without pressure and to fail without criticism. To throw and catch however he wants.

But just as he was feeling good, the heavy feeling that had clung to him for a long time seemed to intensify.

Eijun didn't interact with them as much as necessary. He would get frustrated easily when the kids didn't understand the theory, or when, no matter how much they practiced, they couldn't execute the moves. He expected the best from them, even though he knew that was impossible.

Children are looking for fun and satisfaction. While no one likes to lose, they prioritize feeling good and being with their friends through thick and thin over thinking about a possible future as professionals.

And that's normal. Not everyone sees sports as the axis of their future. For some, it's just a hobby—game they have fun with or watch for a while before moving on with their lives.

For others, like Eijun himself, sports are an obsession. A ritual. Life itself.

Or was it? Or maybe it still is. Eijun no longer knows.

Admitting that he hates baseball lifted a weight off his shoulders. However, it didn't make him feel better. It left him with an emptiness that he desperately tries to fill but can't. It's like filling a glass with water, but the cracks slowly empty it.

That's how Eijun feels, and no matter how many times he replaces the glass, it keeps cracking more and more.

"Interesting," Rei says, bringing Eijun back to reality. "I thought you didn't have any experience. Do you have his number so I can get a reference? The school staff tends to be very picky about Seido trainers."

A subtle reference? Eijun remembers the pressure that Seido staff put on Kataoka, which is why the coach almost quit in his second year until they won the Autumn Tournament.

Of course, the management was stilln't happy, which is why Ochiai was ultimately hired.

Would hiring Eijun change that? Wouldn't Ochiai come to Seido? Aside from having a different philosophy than Kataoka, Eijun didn't like Ochiai at first. However, it was Ochiai who taught Eijun his first changeup and who brought Kataoka back to reality during matches. Several people in Seido also improved because of Ochiai.

By his third year, despite his reserved and almost apathetic personality, Ochiai had integrated into Seido as a member.

However, if Eijun thinks about it, he's not acting much differently.

Oh my God… I am literally Ochiai!

Eijun doesn't know how to feel about this revelation.

It may not change things much. Eijun has even less experience than Kataoka as a trainer, whereas Ochiai already has a good track record.

Eijun nods toward Rei and carefully pulls out his phone to look up Masamune's contact information. He writes it down on a piece of paper, thankful that neither of them likes technology enough to ask for his cell phone.

"His name is Masamune. He's a trainer and the director of the Izumi Club in Sendai. I worked with him for a few months before moving here."

"What did you normally do?" Ota asks.

"Well..." "I was mainly in charge of training the first string. I also trained the second string. I don't think I had a particular role. I taught them whatever Masamune-san asked me to explain.”

"Can you be more specific?" Kataoka finally speaks. His serene voice calms him down a bit.

"Hm... Sometimes I took care of the pitchers, the catchers... I worked more with the catchers, though. If Masamune wanted me to teach the whole team baseball theory, I did it. I corrected batting, pitching, and catcher stances. From time to time, I also taught the new guys. I liked working with them more; they were adorable when they closed their eyes to hit the ball.”

It is one of the things that produces happiness and affection in his heart. A warm feeling in his cold body.

Eijun was always a weird kid, so he never experienced being afraid of the ball when his grandpa’s slaps were more intimidating and heavier.

"So, you were teaching… everything?" Ota-san asks. There is a stutter in his words, but Eijun sees it as normal. Ota-san has always been a nervous person.

"I guess... Yeah? I don't think there's anything I can't teach if I'm honest," he says sheepishly. He runs a hand over the back of his neck. "Masamune-san made me go to the library many times. It's hard for kids to pay attention to you if you don't make it interesting for them.”

Eijun nervously moves his hands again, doubting if what he’s doing is a good idea.

He doesn't start biting his nails just because of his self-control, and because of Kataoka's question.

"Have you played professionally?"

Eijun bites his lip, finding the floor and the base of the desk more interesting than answering Kataoka.

Would it be wise to tell the truth? He doesn't know how much to reveal before his lie falls apart. If he doesn't say something, it will look suspicious, and it will seem impossible for a simple college student to have the experience and talent he has.

"I played with the 'Riders in Texas’ for a few months.” A wise man once said that omitting information is not lying. “Nothing important. But then... The Oklahoma City Comets signed me as a pitcher for a season. But, to be honest, I didn't play as much as I expected. I didn't even finish my season with them.”

“No?” Rei asks, her tone reflecting doubt, as if she doesn't believe his words.

“Well...it was hard to compete against the pitchers they already had. They didn't see much value in me when I wasn't in battery with... with the best catcher they had. So, I left them and concentrated on college because of a difference of interest. I could try to get on another team later anyway.”

“That sounds very arrogant of you," Kataoka says.

“Maybe, but I earned my triple-A status fair and square.

All three seem very interested. Their glances go back and forth between them and him. Eijun wonders if what he said is that fascinating. Masamune has never been so amazed by what he can do or teach. He doesn't understand why they do.

To be fair, though, Masamune doesn't even know that he played professionally. He senses something is off, but he doesn't know the truth.

"How old did you say you were?" Ota asks.

"Twenty-five, sir.”

"What a young man..." Eijun hears him whisper.

Rei then clears her throat. "Now that everything is clear, would you agree to listen to our offer? We'd like to discuss the details with you. Of course, this is contingent on your agreement.”

Well, Eijun already knows. If he says he wants to think about it, or if he refuses, he'll just act like a scaredy-cat. He won't accomplish anything that way.

He nods with determination and forces himself to look at Kataoka.

“K-Kurumochi senpai! What did I do to deserve this?”

“You know what you did, Bakamura! Be thankful I'm not using a more complicated struggle key!"

Judging by their satisfied faces, watching Sawamura suffer makes his senpai quite happy. Of course, Kazuya enjoys it, especially after Sawamura trash-talks about Chris-senpai for stretching longer than pitching.

Kazuya would understand if the two didn't get along. As much of a diamond in the rough as Sawamura may be, he still needs a reality check. Who better to give it to him than Chris? Or maybe he won't even be necessary, as Sawamura plays, if Kataoka allows him to prove himself in the first place, reality itself will bring him down from his cloud.

"I wouldn't trust my three years to someone like you," Chris told Sawamura in front of everyone, embarrassing the young pitcher and, in the process, making him the butt of everyone's jokes.

Kazuya won't say out loud that Chris is right; he wants to stay on Sawamura's good side, just in case. However, he's not empathetic enough to help him get rid of his bad reputation.

Even less so now that they know Sawamura is the half-brother.

It was in the middle of training when the second-year students came running up to the diamond where the first string was practicing and subtly revealed that Sawamura and Ei-san were indeed family.

"We saw it! They're practically the same! —Same!

If the gaijin were younger, they would be twins!"

At first, everyone thought it was a joke. After all, if Sawamura had a brother who played baseball professionally, he would brag about it or worse, claim that he learned everything from his brother.

But Sawamura doesn't even know the most basic grip. He doesn't know the rules, and his throwing is mediocre at best.

Furuya is the same, but the difference is that Furuya throws almost at 150 km/h, while Sawamura only reaches 120 km/h at most.

“You guys just don't get it!”

“Believe us!”

As more and more second- and third-graders came with the same news, the smiles on their senpai's faces faded.

This brings us to the current situation: Sawamura is being tortured by Kuramochi's infamous wrestling techniques, and the third-years are surrounding him with intimidating auras.

However, part of him cannot accept that Sawamura is Ei's half-brother. The first-year students said that Ei had talked about his little brother as if he were a monster comparable to Mei, but... Kazuya can only look at Sawamura and wonder where that description fits.

For Kazuya, Sawamura was nothing more than a small-town boy who didn't know any better, with an outgoing personality both on and off the diamond that could be annoying, not to mention his lack of respect for his seniors (including Kazuya himself). While Ei is more serious, you could even say calculating.

Although his social skills leave much to be desired, as Ei-san is very introverted with them—to the point where perhaps the rumor of autism is true, when he takes the mound, Ei commands a presence that Kazuya varely sees in high school pitchers.

And he knows it well—that aura, that intimidation that Ei exudes just by standing at 18.28 meters from home plate, is something out of his league. A feeling brought directly from what lies beyond the walls of Koshien.

The most similar thing Kazuya can think he has witnessed with his own body and soul was the moments where Tetsu goes to the batter's box to have a final fight against a troublemaker pitcher. And even that falls short.

Putting them together is like comparing water and oil. Kazuya would have to add detergent to even think that both Ei-san and Sawamura are related.

"You're lucky we don't bury you alive, Sawamura!" Jun grinds his teeth as he joins Kuramochi in grabbing a leg. Sawamura practically squirms.

"N-NO! I SWEAR! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! MERCY!”

"There will be no mercy until you get us a rematch," Ryou-san says calmly. "He's your big brother. He should be able to do you that favor.”

"I HAVE NO SIBLINGS! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO REPEAT THAT—?! GAAHHH!”

“Why are you lying, Sawamura? You'll be my practice dummy for two whole months!”

"YOU'RE ALREADY USING ME AS A DUMMY ANYWAY, KURAMOCHI-SENPAI!"

This only made Kuramochi tighten his grip even more.

How long will it take for Chris to intervene? Kazuya wondered. While his senpai and Sawamura got off on the wrong foot, Kazuya knows Chris isn't heartless enough not to help Sawamura.

"Miyuki-senpai! HELP ME! MERCY!”

Oh, this is going to get good.

"Huh? You're finally calling me senpai? Are you that desperate?" Kazuya can't help but scoff. Sawamura puffs out his cheeks and hits the ground like a little kid, making such a funny expression that Kazuya laughs at the top of his lungs. "Forget it! They'll make me their slave! The main catcher has privileges."

"Shut up, Miyuki! Surely you knew, too, you damn tanuki!”

"Now, now. I have nothing to do with it this time, Kuramochi. I'm not that close to this fool for you to say that.”

“Main catcher?” Ryousuke stares at him as if Kazuya is to blame for something. "That will only last until Kataoka give us our numbers. After all, Chris has been on a roll now that his shoulder has healed completely."

Kazuya smirks at him. After all, this is what he was waiting for.

"We'll see."

“Leave it, Ryou-san," Kuramochi says with difficulty while trying to keep Sawamura in place. "He doesn't show it, but he's afraid that Chris will take his place. Hyaha!"

“Me? Afraid?" Kazuya scoffs as he removes the cap from his head and twirls it on his index finger. "I've gotten so much better! Chris-senpai should be afraid of me!"

Regardless of what others may think of him, Kazuya is happiest to have Chris back.

Because this time, he will earn his position as starting catcher based on his ability, not because his rival was injured.

I'm really glad I noticed Chris' injury in time...

Kazuya would never forgive himself if it hadn't been like that.

A laugh starts behind him, making Kazuya let out a confused noise at the sight of his captain and Mazuko.

"Says the one who was read like an open book by Ei-san? In a real game, that would have cost us our chance at Koshien." Tetsu says. An oppressive aura surrounded him.

Tanba, who was farthest away from them in the infield bullpen, lets the ball slip from his hand as he throws to the net.

Oops.

"That doesn't count, Captain." Kazuya answered with mockery, “Chris wouldn't have handled the situation any better than I did. Ei-san is in a different league than us, literally.”

"I don't deny it. But it's Chris. Surely he would have thought of something.”

The comment makes his mouth twist as if Kazuya had tasted something bitter.

Kazuya has been doing simulations of the game in his mind so many times at night that he ends up waking up, sitting at his desk just to take notes; writing about what he asked Tanba to throw, his pitch sequence, and the final pitch calling he made and failed miserably with, as well as every foul Ei-san made, as if he were playing against kindergarteners who barely know how to throw a ball the right way.

But no matter how much Kazuya simulates in his mind, the alternatives in his pitch calling only end in the same result; with Ei-san doing more fouls, even home runs.

Those fouls were intentional. Ryosuke does the same, but on a smaller scale. At most, he commits twelve fouls in a good game.

But to get to almost thirty fouls? it's just amazing. 

A normal person wouldn't do what Ei did. Hell! Kazuya itself couldn't even aspire to do something similar, since his best bats turns usually involve full bases on the diamond.

Ei's batting stance and his carefully controlled pitches were so accurate that a first-year catcher had no trouble catching them. It was also surprising to learn that Ei held back with everyone and only revealed his true velocity when he faced Tetsu.

There's his posture on the mound, the seriousness with which he looks at everyone, and his calmness every time he pitches.

And those two pitches...

The one that struck out Ryosuke and Tetsu. They are two strange pitches that Kazuya has been unable to identify, no matter how much time he spends on the internet or in the library. He just can't figure out what they're called—books on pitching just don't give him what he's looking for.

Would it be too bold of me to ask him?

Kazuya may be proud, but he definitely won't sleep well if he keeps replaying those pitches in his mind without being able to identify them properly.

Trying to imagine them doesn't help. He's just left with a tingling sensation in his hands, knowing that his mental image is nowhere near reality. After all, seeing them from the dugout is one thing, but catching them himself is another.

Who knew? Kuramochi was right about something. Kazuya is jealous that a first-year experienced such pitches, and he hasn't.

"That hurt me, Captain! Do you have no consideration for my feelings?”

“Do you even have feelings?" Kuramichi mockingly asked.

"Oi, oi.”

Tetsu laughs a little before approaching Sawamura to save him from Kuramichi and Jun.

"I'm sorry, but I need him," says Kataoka. Kataoka and Rei-san needs him."

Sawamura is released at the mention of the trainer. He falls to the ground, and after a few seconds, steam comes out of his nose. He bristles like a cat and quickly crawls toward Tetsu to use him as a human shield.

"CAPTAIN! SAVE ME! THIS IS KOHAI ABUSE!"

“You deserve it, Sawamura. Hyaha!”

“Now you'll think twice before withholding information from your superiors!”

“TAICHO!”

"Now, now," Tetsu says, separating them. Sawamura still looks at them with distrust. "Leave Sawamura alone. He’s certainly not to blame for not knowing his half-brother.”

Ah, an unexpected betrayal.

"T-Taicho?! You too?!”

“I'm just teasing you, Sawamura," Tetsu says mockingly as he ruffles Sawamura's hair and urges him out of the inner bullpen. Sawamura follows obediently, glancing back suspiciously from time to time as if expecting Kuramochi and Jun to attack him again.

Just to tease him more, Kazuya yells at him.

"Be careful, Sawamura!" The coach doesn't usually call students unless they're in trouble!"

Sawamura shouts from a distance, and Kazuya just guffaws.

"You're even worse than we are," Kuramochi sneers.

"Thank you. I worked hard to be like this."

“It's not a compliment, you trash."

"Haha!"

Truth be told, Eijun hadn't held a contract in his hands since he signed with the Yankees. He knows there’s no fine print on the piece of paper he has been handed, but his years of experience, the medallion on his chest, and Erick's words about not being an idiot force him to read it.

He’s so focused that he doesn't notice how Kataoka steps out with Rei, two of them with an aura of satisfaction and shining glasses, which Eijun knows are a bad omen.

"What will it be?" he mumbles as he accepts a blue pen from Ota to sign the contract.

The worst thing that could happen is coming face-to-face with Chris. Eijun isn't mentally strong enough to see his shisho again, especially the dead and hurtful version.

Of course, Chris wouldn't dare speak ill of Eijun or say anything that would hurt him now that he's part of Seido's staff. But the ghosts of… the future? The past? Are very cruel to him.

No matter how many times he counts to ten and leans back against the couch, Chris doesn't appear, and Eijun silently thanks the universe for being kind to him once.

At least, not yet. Not yet.

He wants to have his sunglasses on when he sees Chris because if he doesn't, he'll cry. Eijun knows he'll want to throw himself at him and hug him because he really misses him. He misses him so much it hurts.

"Are you all right?" Ota asks with obvious concern. He's probably remembering when Eijun collapsed on the mound.

"As well as I could be," Eijun answers honestly. "I'm just… tired. I haven't slept as well as I'd like."

"Have you eaten yet, Ei?"

Neither had he. He left the apartment late, and although he had planned to buy something at a store near Seido, the managers had taken him by surprise, and with the express barbershop they set up for him, Eijun simply forgot about it.

If Masamune-san found out, he would definitely scold him.

Eating now sounds appealing. Very much so.

But, although he would like to talk to Kariba and possibly the other first-year boys again, Eijun is not sure he can survive in the dining room a second time.

"No, I haven't eaten yet. I was planning to buy a bento box at the corner store.”

“We can order you a tray of food from the dining room. The children just went to eat.”

"It's not necessary, Ota-san. Really.”

Before the club president could say anything else, they heard a noise outside. They heard multiple footsteps faintly, and Eijun could hear voices talking to each other.

Oh no!

He recognizes Rei's and Tetsu's voices immediately. But when he hears a shout, he knows who is on the other side of the door.

Oh no!

Rei said she would help me reunite with my mini-me! But now?

Eijun wants to crawl into a hole and die. His only consolation is slightly adjusting his cap while holding back the urge to put on his sunglasses.

Very good. It's all good. Relax, Eijun. The universe didn't explode when you touched it before, and it won't now.

Breathe.

But it is difficult. Very difficult.

The tingling in his hands returns, and he starts counting to ten in his mind as he takes a deep breath and stands perfectly still on the couch. He turns his back on anyone who walks through Kataoka's office door.

You can do it, Eijun.

I can do it.

He hears the knob slowly turning, the wood of the door creaking slightly, and the voices becoming sharper. His own voice is younger, sharper, and shriller.

It’s like the confusion you feel when you hear yourself speak on a record.

“Listen to me! I told you I don't have any—!”

Silence.

Eijun is a coward. He knows it, too. His eyes stare at his contract paper as if it's the most interesting thing in the world, yet he still can't bring himself to turn around and face his reality. Eijun crumples the paper in his hands, shivers, and gets up from the couch. He carefully lays the paper on Kataoka's desk.

"Sawamura-kun," Rei said to his younger self with incredible calmness, surely with a slight smile on his face. "I wanted you to meet him personally. I am sure that when you look at him, you will understand what we have told you."

Eijun's past self remains silent. Eijun counts in his mind and finally gathers the courage to look at him.

It is a meeting of glances, just like the last time. A café full of light and life, almost to the point of looking golden for the innocence they have; it meets their darkest and deadest eyes. 

Can his younger self see what he will become? Can he see his contradictory future in it? A future where he finds happiness and fulfillment in exchange for leaving everything he once knew behind?

A future where, when he finally got what he wanted, he collapsed and lost his color when the most important person in his life died?

Eijun forces a smile, trying to express a feeling he doesn't have. His chest aches with memories as the medallion he carries grows colder for no reason. An even greater weight.

What would Erick say or do if he were in Eijun's situation?

He surely would not have hesitated to change things. He would have been believed to be a time traveler.

If Erick had been the chosen one, would he have sent his younger self to the U.S.? Face ‘La bestia’ again? The death? The heavy lifting he had to do?

Or would it have changed his life? Would Erick have found another path? Have his younger self stay in Mexico and grow up there? Maybe that younger Erick could treat his strange osteoporosis in hopes that the same thing wouldn't happen to him as it did to his adult self.

In exchange for improving his life, he could never have met Eijun. At least, not until it was too late.

Would Erick do that?

No, he wouldn't. He convinces himself. For Erick, Eijun was just as important.

"When I'm in rehab, I think about you all the time," That's what Erick said the last time they spoke. The last time Eijun heard his voice.

Eijun takes a deep breath.

Yes, Erick would surely do something to get to know him again, even if it's late. Even if it's after twenty-five. The two of them would still hit it off and would be the perfect battery again, even if those seven years they spent together were gone.

But Eijun is selfish that way. Okumura was not entirely wrong.

Eijun is a selfish pitcher when it comes to his catchers.

He wants his younger self to meet Erick, he must meet him, no matter what. That's why he came to Seido, to guide him.

So, his younger self doesn't make the same mistakes.

That thought is what he needs. A new motivation, a new goal to follow.

Eijun is about to say hello when his mini-self speaks first.

“Ji-chan!? You got younger!?”

Eijun had never been left speechless in his life, at least not by anyone other than Erick or Miyuki.

Well, there's always a first time for everything, he supposes.

Eijun, unfortunately, has to agree again on one thing.

He is an idiot and has always been.

But nothing angers him more than being called an old man when he isn't. He already has enough to deal with being nicknamed ‘turbo grandma’; he doesn't need to be called old by his past self! Thank you very much.

So, Eijun just came closer to his mini-self, which appears to stop breathing for a second.

And the first thing Eijun does is to answer with a slap. The same as his grandpa gave him when he was a kid.

“IT HURTS!!”

“You brat! Who the hell are you calling old man?! I’m twenty-five years old! REMEMBER THAT!”

“YOU EVEN SLAP PEOPLE LIKE MY GRANDPA!”

“YOU LITTLE—!”

Eijun then grabs his cheeks with both hands, stretching them until he can see the teeth of his mini-me, while enjoying his moans of pain and a distorted ‘stop! Stop!’

Only when the cheeks of his younger self are red, Eijun lets him go. For a moment, it's just the two of them and moans of pain along with crocodile tears until he remembers that his past self didn't come alone.

Eijun breaks out in a cold sweat when he sees the blank faces of Rei, Kataoka, and Ota.

“For some reason,” Rei says without emotion, “this seems very familiar to me...”

Uhh… does this count as intrafamilial violence?

Although if Eijun remembers correctly, Rei also saw a very similar scene when she recruited him.

His mini-me rubs his cheeks carefully, clearly irritated and embarrassed.

“Are you really my brother?! No! Wait a minute! How can I have an OLDER brother in the first place?!”

Eijun really wants to shove a sock in his past self's mouth to shut him up.

Was I that irritating? I didn't remember it like that...

“Shut up, Boke! I've been looking for you for a long time!”

“HAH?!”

In the distance (not really), the Seido staff think at the same time about whether this was a good idea or not.

Chapter Text

"I deserve an explanation! I don't understand anything!"

"Normal," Eijun thinks. But, aside from thinking about what he's going to say, he wonders what he's going to call his past self. He won't always be able to call him "mini-me" because it's bizarre to see his younger self, full of energy, he wishes he had right now.

As far as Eijun knows, he hasn't had a moment where he can see through mini-me eyes, or worse, control his body like in some movies or books. The safest bet is to consider them two separate people. Two entities that think and feel differently. It's a scary and confusing concept.

Because he’s me, and I’m him.

"If I tell you, “He says with the calmness and patience he has acquired over the years, "you won't like the answer.”

"I don't care! Thanks to you, my senpai has been harassing me! It's horrible to be their slave!”

Yeah, Eijun had already imagined it.

But wait. If he no longer lives what I did, then he's no longer me?

I'm not him anymore?

“THEY HAVE BEEN SO OBSESSED WITH YOU FOR LOSING!”

Should Eijun call him Sawamura like everyone else? Or would that be strange since he has imposed on himself as a big brother? In his mind, at least, he doesn't think his mini-me would react well if he started calling him Otouto out of nowhere.

As far as I remember, Ryosuke never called Haruichi anything other than "Otouto" or his first name.

"If you are my brother..."

How difficult. Eijun doesn't know how an older brother acts. It shouldn't be difficult, should it?

 “...YOU SHOULD AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO FIX IT!”

Oh, wait. Does that mean I should let him go to my apartment?

“OIII!”

Will it be strange if I offer it now, or should I wait a while for him to get acquainted with me?

“Are you there?”

Do I have to buy things for him? I remember having a flip phone in my first year.

“DON'T LEAVE ME TALKING TO MYSELF!”

Maybe calling him Sawamura wouldn't be bad. Eventually, I could call him little brother and I...

“Sawamura, please stop yelling at him for a moment.”

“What? But—!

“How about sitting down? Let me talk to him for a moment. Tetsu-kun, thank you for bringing Sawamura-kun. You can go back to training...”

Should I think of myself as Ei?

It is his new name.  From an affectionate nickname that started with Amahisa, to being his true self, the only thing they know about him.

And, even so, it is only part of a vile lie.

Eijun feels strange. As if he has cotton in his head and ears. He hears his heart pounding in his ears, the flesh throbbing near his ears as if he's taken a break after a practice base-stealing on the diamond.

No, more like it. A more accurate comparison would be when he woke up in the hospital after the pitcher on duty accidentally threw a dead ball at him.

Eijun never blamed him; the boy was so scared and nervous when they spoke, apologizing so fast in English that even after as long as he had been in America, Eijun could hardly understand him.

Of course, thanks to the helmet didn't get worse, but having to wear sunglasses for more than a week because the slightest light blinded him was no fun at all.

A strange hand grabs his right wrist, causing Eijun to startle and look at it.

It’s Rei.

Despite his broken glasses, his gaze silently asks her a question.

For a moment, he sees his Rei from the future. She has wrinkles on her face due to age, and she proudly displays her gray hair.

"They speak of my experience. They scream who I am, Sawamura-kun," she says with her signature smile. "So, if you call me old, rest assured you'll never throw a ball again."

A flicker. The blurred sound returns to reality, and Eijun tries not to look around nervously, afraid that he is not in reality but in his memories.

Eijun tries with all his might not to look at Kataoka and Ota.

"I'm sorry," he said listlessly, feeling a strange tingling sensation in his fingers that forced him to rub them together. He's almost certain that his face is blank. "I space out. It happens to me sometimes."

"Sometimes" is an understatement. Somewhere in the core of his being, he knows that something is wrong with his mind, constantly wandering elsewhere. Masamune and Rika-san have both casually remarked on it.

"It's just..." Eijun continues, forcing his voice not to whisper. "Meeting you is also a shock to me. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what this means to me.

It's the truth. The reality. But even if they interpret his words otherwise, Eijun says to them to release the weight he feels. It's a way for his mind and heart to understand his journey—not consensual—in time: the loss of his true identity— Erick's death. These are not illusions.

The possibility of feigning insanity or thinking he was still in America with coach Johan scolding him for his poor performance and consequently, sending him to the NPB to fix his problems, is now gone.

No, he can't do that anymore.

His younger self... Eijun? Sawamura? Sawamura—Eijun finally makes up his mind—looks at him with a raised eyebrow while Rei encourages him to sit on the couch. Eijun doesn't have the courage to sit next to Sawamura (God, how weird it is to talk about himself in the third person).

However, perhaps he’s giving Sawamura too much credit. He has a frown and a hand on his chin, parodying the Thinker statue. But his expression is not one of annoyance. Eijun has seen that face in the mirror and photos too many times to know that his younger self is not annoyed. He's simply analyzing Eijun with his limited brainpower.

"I really thought my Jiji had gotten younger. You look so much like one of his photos from when he was young!”

Photos?

In his time... world? universe? parallel line? His grandpa barely had any photos. Eijun was lucky to even find a decent, not-at-all blurry one to print out and put on Erick's Día de Muertos altar.

I suppose it's just one of those things, like the change of surname and first name of Hongo and his father, or the similarity to Yui. Like Yui, or the change in Hongo and his father's first and last names.

What kind of photos will Eitoku have? Erick had told him they looked alike, but this is new.

"I'd say I'm flattered, but... I don't know your...uhm...Jiji."

Okay, one step at a time. Eijun doesn't need to rush, especially since he knows how emotional he was as a teenager.

Things don't go as planned again when he sees a brilliant glare in Sawamura's eyes.

"Oh, that can be arranged!" Sawamura says with a smile, as if the fact that Eijun is his "big brother" is less important than talking about Eitoku. "I've been teaching that old man how to use a cell phone, and—"

In fact, Mini-me already has his cell phone out. Eijun can't help but bristle. He slams the phone shut, surprising everyone with his action. He enters into a small fight for the flip phone against his younger self.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he says, pulling harder. His face is probably red from the situation.

"Ah! What's wrong with you?!" Sawamura grips his phone tightly.

Shameful! Absolutely shameful!

"Just...Please, let's not involve your family! Not yet!"

“Why?! That's the least you could do for me!”

“I can't! Do you know what will happen if your family finds out about me? They'll put me in a mental institution or worse, they'll lynch your father!”

“What's my father got to do with it?!”

Eijun can't help but suddenly drop the phone, staring blankly at his dumber self. Sawamura, who by inertia fell silent with his back to the couch while protecting his phone as if he were Gollum with the ring, looks at him with doubt written all over his face.

I couldn't be that dumb, could I?

Right?!

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY DUMB?!”

Oops, did I say that out loud?

Eijun, now I understand all the bullying from Erick. He really has a squirrel for a brain.

“I didn't mean to call you dumb, but when you asked that,” he doesn't know how to say it, at least not without getting embarrassed again, “Ugh... you really caught me off guard...”

Eijun sighs as he brings a hand to his face, aware of all the stares on him, thinking about how to solve this problem.

"Look, I don't know how to explain this without making you angry or upset. So, before I tell you anything, I'd like to get to know you first, if that's okay," Eijun begins, inwardly praying to Erick for strength to endure this. “I don't want anything I say to affect the way you see your family."

Sawamura finally stops acting defensive. The phone in his hands is no longer held dramatically to his chest, and he seems genuinely interested in listening.

Interested and sad. Perhaps confused.

Who wouldn't be? When a crazy stranger comes into your life out of nowhere and changes everything you thought in the blink of an eye.

Yeah, Eijun can empathize with that.

He wants to tell his past self that he’ll bring not trouble but great things. Amazing things. He wants to say to him what they have in common so that the atmosphere won't become less tense.

But a growl from his stomach and phantom pain interrupt him.

Right.

He still...

"I think you should go eat, Ei-san," says Rei as she moves her broken glasses.

"Hm, maybe I should.”

“Have you already eaten, Sawamura-kun?" Ota asks. His younger self nods quickly.

"But!" Sawamura jumps up from the sofa and points his finger at Ota. "I'll come with you. I NEED ANSWERS!"

Eijun simply smiles at him.

Even though his stomach hurts, Eijun wastes a little time in the bathroom just to make sure there is no one in Seido's dining room. Rather, the fact that Sawamura wanted to waste practice time is surprising even to him.

One wonders if it is because of his match against the first-stringers and his not-so-secret exhibition of his profession that Sawamura has decided to be patient enough to postpone playing the sport he is obsessed with.

When he comes out, he finds Sawamura waiting for him with his arms crossed and his left foot tapping against the ground to show his irritation.

“You're taking so long!”

This child.

“S...” It's impossible for his tongue not to get stuck. it's one thing to say his last name in the third person in his mind and another to make his mouth cooperate, “Sawamura...kun. I know you're anxious, but I swear I try to hurry with all my being.”

It's a lie, Eijun doesn't want to have that conversation with Seido children present. Would Buddha and God know what rumors would be made of the soap opera he made, Eijun is not heartless enough to keep ruining the reputation of his younger self.

And besides, Eijun didn't need to have overexcited teenagers from training around him, not yet. Dealing with the Izumi club's childish energy was much easier than reasoning with hormonal teenagers humiliated by losing a bet.

Luckily for Eijun, on their journey, they meet no one, and when they arrive at the dining hall, they find only two children, probably first graders, trying to finish their three cups of rice.

Eijun steps forward to take the table furthest away from the other children when one of the lunch ladies notices them and, with a friendly smile, grabs an already prepared tray of food to hand to them.

“Oh... I... There was no need for that, ma'am," he mutters, embarrassed, looking away from her. "I could have picked it up without any problem.”

“Oh, don't talk nonsense, sweetheart," she expresses with a motherly affection, waving one of her hands in the air in a carefree way, "Rei-chan and Coach Kataoka told us that you will be integrated soon. Ota-san also told us that you haven't eaten, it's just kindness from us.”

“Yeah, but...”

“Ah, ah, ah, ah," she shushes him as she pats him on his shoulder. Amused when you consider their height difference, Eijun pulls about two heads out of her, "Now go to eat. You look very thin for a young man your age.”

Eijun takes a deep breath, but in the end accepts defeat.

“I'll try," he promises as he bows slightly and thanks her. And he really means it, his diet since the time travel hasn't been the best (to some extent, he can't look at curry the same way anymore), and he's not very proud of having survived on food on the verge of expiring until Masamune pulled him out of the internet café and now that he is here now.

“Good, now sit down, be a good boy.”

God, Eijun is no longer a child, he's a full-fledged adult! But he still nods and accepts the words despite the heat on his face.

His younger self is waiting for him, but unlike the bathroom, he looks calmer.

It's still a bit unreal for his brain to see himself that way. And, he supposes, it will be that way for quite a while.

Eijun sits on the opposite side to see his mini-me from the front. Today's meal is fish in teriyaki, a bowl of white rice, kinpira, and a bowl of tonjiru. His hands shake a little as he grasps the metal chopsticks before maintaining a firm grip.

Is it strange that the food looks so odd? Alien? It smells good, it looks good, and unlike last time, because of the nerves of having all of Seido watching it and having Rei by his side, he doesn't feel so much rejection.

But seeing it still brings out in him a feeling that something is wrong. That's not what he should be eating.

Is it just Seido's food? No, he knows very well. It's all food in general. But Eijun can't afford to starve himself just on a whim of his mind.

Eijun wishes he could eat Erick's food? Of course he does, but that's impossible. He has to settle for this, whether he wants it or not.

He doesn't think much of the fish's strange texture or its attenuated flavor. It may be marinated in teriyaki sauce, but to Eijun's palate, it is not noticeable, even though he takes his time savoring and chewing it.

But the longer it spends in his mouth, a distaste forms in his stomach.

Eijun swallows the next piece he cuts without chewing it much. The same happens with the third, the fourth, the...

“Don't you like it?” The sudden question from his mini-me makes him startle and almost spit, "You make a funny expression every time you eat a little piece.”

Eijun forces himself to smile.

“No, it's not that," he replies as he sets the steak aside to grab some of the kinpira's vegetables. “It's been a long time since I've eaten fish seasoned like this since I was young. I guess it's become an unexpected culture shock when I got used to eating other kinds of food...”

“I guess, if I went to another country and couldn't eat curry, I would be sad," Sawamura says honestly, "Didn't you miss Japanese food when you moved?”

Red rice with peas and carrots. Ground meat with vegetables and in a reddish broth that the first time you thought would fill your mouth with fire, only to be surprised by the taste of tomato at the first bite.

“Picadillo!” Eijun remembers Erick naming the dish this way.

Eijun could name more, even remember how he joked with Erick that he had an evil, secret plan to fatten him up and eat him.

“Maybe," Erick replied with a smirk as he leaned against the stove, large spoon in hand, "but then I'd lose my only customer and that would be fatal for my heart.”

“It was hard to adjust at first. But as time went on, I got to a point where I didn't care, I guess.”

“So, what did you eat? Hamburgers? Chicken wings? Macaroni and cheese? America tends to eat a lot of fast food, doesn't it?!” Sawamura's voice fills with energy and interest. He even reloads onto the table to try to get closer to Eijun, “Do you also put three kinds of cheese on everything you eat? I've seen videos where they put a lot of pasta, meat, and cheese in aluminum trays and put them all in the oven.”

His younger self doesn't say it maliciously; he knows it. It's an ignorance that would be adorable were it not for the fact that it insults everything Erick once cooked for him.

Eijun takes a deep breath. He really wants to stretch Sawamura's cheeks.

“Believe it or not, I didn't eat that much fast food. As an athlete, you have to watch your diet; I wouldn't have the body I have if I only ate fatty foods.”

Relax. It's normal. Stereotypes are everywhere. For them, you are a Gaijin and Hafu. Remember that.

But even with that, his current body is also a shadow. Subsisting on pure curry since he made his time travel, with no exercise routine (beyond visiting a batting cage when his mind and body finally got on the same page) and skipping meals has left him in a state he doesn't want to acknowledge.

Not to the point of saying that his body is starving and his bones are showing, that would be exaggerating. But his shirts and pants fit looser than usual, and he doesn't even have much energy; most of the time he's very tired.

He won't deny that he doesn't have the same endurance either. Sure, he can run with pre-teens relatively normally, but he ends up with a shortness of breath that didn't happen to him before. 

For the Izumi club, his stamina was supernatural. For professional players, Eijun would be a walking joke.

“Where did our Barry Allen go?” his Yankees friends would say. Eijun can hear their mocking voices very well.

“That's not fair," Erick would say, "Ei is not very fast; a better comparison would be Shazam or Red Tornado.”

“Oi, oi! Why am I not Superman? I'm the only one of all of you who hasn't been injured!”

“Your elasticity is out of this world, Jun. It would be more accurate to call you ‘Elongated Man’," replies one.

Erick, on the other hand, thinks to himself. “Mmmm... all right, I accept that argument. The court declares you "Elongated Man".

But you were like this before. His mind whispers, the part of himself that he hates. That has tried to hurt him since he died.

The grip on his chopsticks becomes stronger.

“I didn't go to those extremes," he replies with amusement, remembering how much Erick hated watching those cooking videos, "a colleague cooked for both of us. He was very good, if you ask me. I really liked his food, so I think it was because of him that I don't miss Japanese too much.”

“And where is he? Did he come with you? Does he know how to play baseball like you?!”

The last question is like a stab at Eijun’s heart.

Calm down. Breathe. He doesn't know. No one knows. Nothing is malicious, nothing is to hurt me.

What should I say? What should I say?

He’s dead. Very dead.

The fresh and well-cooked vegetables also lack flavor. Eijun sets the tonjiru aside to see if he can at least eat it.

“He... He stayed in America," he finally says. His voice may have cracked on the spot, and he has to look away to keep his eyes from watering, but he doesn't care, “but yeah... he could play baseball as well as I.”

Cowardice? An attempt to maintain the illusion? Sure, the Erick of this time is not dead, but his is.

Masamune didn't even have the right to know; Seido is no different.

A deep breath, a blink of an eye.  Eijun needs only that to regain his composure and look at Sawamura again.

Sawamura opens his mouth, perhaps to ask more... but something makes him stop. He uncomfortably lowers his gaze for a moment to settle into his place. Eijun, for his part, takes the broth from the tonjiru but doesn't eat the vegetables or tofu. His stomach growls, but at least the pain has subsided. The bowl of rice remains untouched. Eijun is no longer hungry.

"I promised you something, didn't I?" He says this as he pushes the tray of food aside, drawing the attention of his younger self. "Let's start by parts.”

It's not a big deal what he says, but he's careful how he expresses it. A more digestible version of what he told Rei with more detail on some things. Mentioning that maybe their parents met because of the amusing coincidence of having matching last names.

But, above all, emphasizing that his father was not to blame for anything, to at least clear his name a little.

He doesn't know if his younger self's silence throughout his story is a good thing.

"I always thought I was an accident, but don't blame your father entirely for that. My mother never bothered to ask for his number or look it up."

"Why?"

Eijun only slightly raises his shoulders.

"I don't know. I guess she just wanted to have a child. A lot of times people do that.”

"So, you were born in Sendai?"

"I… suppose you could say that. When I turned thirteen, my mother had to return to America for work. Even though I'm ethnically Japanese, I grew up on the other side of the world.”

“Wow…”

The other first graders have already left. It's just the two of them, and all Eijun can tell from Sawamura's expression and body language is slight nervousness and uneasiness, which he tries to disguise with impatience.

"And how did you find me?"

A slight smile forms on Eijun’s face.

God...

I've always wanted to do this!

"Between us," Eijun whispers, trying to sound mysterious as he leans on the table, "my mother had a special ability with tarot cards. She told me that I would find great things in Japan and that I would meet interesting people.”

Eijun was always superstitious as a child. He was easily frightened by ghosts and horror stories, such as those about Kappas*, to keep him away from the river. Once, he couldn't even look at the rice field in his town for fear of encountering a Kunekune* among the scarecrows.

When he was younger, he also did not like going to school or passing near the train tracks for fear of encountering the Teke Teke. Eijun could only overcome his fear when Wakana took his hand and walked with him through those places.

“I guess she wasn't wrong, just like Rei. I found you by chance, out of curiosity, when I saw in an internet article that your school would be demolished.”

The eyes of his younger self sparkle. Probably remembering his match, along with the mix of secrecy and magic with which he embellishes his story. Sawamura stirs in his seat, impatient, not knowing how exactly to release the sudden energy he has in his body.

“Did you see me?”

“You caught my attention from the first moment you went up the mound.”

Sawamura is silent. Eijun smiles as he almost swears that steam is coming out of his head from thinking so much.

“I think we already talked a lot about me," he says as he grabs the tray with his food, "you have practice, don't you? I wouldn't want you to waste any more time on something we can continue discussing later, and I have to rest; today has been... a very heavy day for me.”

His words bring his mini-me out of his thoughts. Eijun can even see that habit of having his eyes like a cat when he gets scared of something.

“Y-you! Hey...! Wait! You know a lot about baseball?! —Don't you?!”

There it is.

“I know enough," he says. It's a hook, a very obvious one, but one that he knows Sawamura will gladly take. There's no harm in doing it this way when he wants to remove the tension that has formed between them, to slowly get to know each other.

“COME WITH ME!” Sawamura stands up from his place suddenly, almost falling as he lets out a little squeak, "I'll be honest, I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING AT ALL! Just that my dad did something stupid when he was young that he doesn't have a clue about!”

That’s... that's surprisingly a good summary for my dramatic backstory.

“But what I do know is that you took the trouble to come a long way to find me! And this humble Sawamura Eijun respects that very much!”

Ah...

“I'm not very good with words, that's why my mom scolds me a lot by solving my problems with others with slaps!” Eijun sees Sawamura blushing, almost exhaling steam from his nose like a locomotive. “But yours are more intimidating! So, I want to talk to you in the only other peaceful way I know! BASEBALL!”

And once again, his past self leaves him speechless.

It's bright, like a light at the end of the tunnel. Little rays of sunshine on a cloudy, rainy day that kisses your skin softly. A warmth that doesn't burn but warms gently.

Eijun nods, walking even slower to leave the tray with the friendly lunch ladies. He doesn't stop to think about the concerned look they give him when they see most of the food untouched.

Eijun silently follows his younger self at a safe distance—who seems to be in a hurry to get to the inner bullpen as he talks about the training he's due. Sawamura talks about Kariba-kun, about his place on the second string. About a scroll full of drills that he doesn't want to do but still follows them to the letter because it means he'll pitch later.

Eijun nods to everything he says, one part of him paying attention to refreshing his memory, another part keeping an eye on his surroundings as he notices the boys in the dormitory startle at his presence and stand with their mouths agape before running away.

Am I that intimidating?

Eijun doesn't think so; he was always good with kids. God knows how many times they came running to him and Erick for pictures or autographs.

But then again. He humiliated the strongest members of Seido; he should not be surprised at the strange respect they now have for him.

A sick feeling in his stomach hits him when the unmistakable sounds of the ball hitting the glove reach them. Even more prominent when the sound is so thunderous that Eijun recognizes who it belongs to.

Furuya.

And unlike him, whose memories seem to want to invade his mind, Sawamura acquires a confident smile and steps forward. Eijun could well stand more than ten meters away from the inner bullpen and still hear his own youthful boisterous voice.

"I'm here!"

He can't quite hear Sawamura's answers, but he already has an idea of who is there.

Eijun lingers behind the doors for a moment to take a deep breath and get his mind right.

“So, what took you so long? Did Kataoka take you off the second string yet?" He hears a mocking voice and can almost imagine the mischievous smile and glasses. Miyuki’s face comes to his mind. The last time Eijun saw him.

But for some reason, the memory is blurred.

Why?

"You idiot! You think you're so funny?!" Sawamura replies, probably not at all happy. "For your information, it was for something else: A much more important one!"

A game. The crowd cheering for the match. Narumiya Mei was there too, wasn't he? Eijun hated seeing them with all his heart.

Miyuki had spoken to him before the confrontation, but Eijun doesn't remember what Miyuki said. He couldn't pay attention when his first instinct was to punch Miyuki’s face.

“Yeah? Is what you're dreaming of, Bakamura?”

“YOU'RE NOT TAKING ME SERIOUSLY AT ALL, MIYUKI KAZUYA!"

And when Narumiya appears…

How dare they look so happy when he was suffering?

“It's Miyuki-senpai for you!"

Eijun counts to ten. Slow and controlled. He imagines the mound under his feet, the summer sun burning the back of his neck and arms. Reassuring him, remembering when everything was so much easier in his life.

A good pitcher controls his emotions; a good pitcher keeps his cool.

The voice of the River Cats' coach echoes in his mind like thunder, scolding him for not controlling himself, benching him for not fitting the mold. Eijun never admitted how much he hated that.

Mr. Michael was certainly the worst. But as much as Eijun hated him, Michael made him flourish.

"Hate me all you want, Sawamura," the old curmudgeon said as he cleaned the diamond, a ritual he wanted to do on his own. "But I won't let you on the mound until you understand. You want to be a pitcher? Act like a pitcher. Right now, you're more valuable to us as a catcher."

If Michael had not believed in him or held him in any esteem, he would not have accepted him into the River Cats. If he did not believe in Eijun, he would not have allowed Erick to join the team just because of Eijun’s insistence, his great hunch, and one practice game.

Eijun hates him for what Michael made him suffer. But without him, Eijun wouldn’t have made his dream possible.

“It was?” It's Tetsu's voice, soft and worried, "Rei and Ota-sensei didn't let me hear the rest, but... is that man your brother?”

Silence, murmurs.

Will the whole first string be there?

If that's the case, Eijun then—

“Maybe? I don't know. I didn't understand much of what he said in the dining room. I only caught a few details, and, to tell you the truth, I was very confused, and he didn't seem to feel very—”

"You really have a hard head, Sawamura," Miyuki scoffs.

"SHUT UP! I hope someone who looks like YOU find you and turns your life upside down!"

"That will never happen. My father is an otaku worker! Women run away from him."

"Do you have to say that with pride?" Tetsu says with confusion. Miyuki only laughs.

Eijun can almost imagine his younger self shaking his head to get his thoughts in order.

"Anyway! I asked him to come here.”

“Did you?" Miyuki's voice loses its mockery. He sounds really surprised.

"Wow," Ryosuke says. The anger in his voice can be felt even from where Eijun is standing. " You really complied with our request.”

"OF COURSE NOT!" I just—!" Another silence, this time longer, appears. “I didn't know how to deal with him. I feel like I can't confront him like I do with others. There's something... I don't know. It's like I can't speak directly. It's like the words die in my mouth when I try to say them.”

Oh...

I wasn't the only one, then.

“You're an airhead, Bakamura. I'm surprised you can think that."

“Miyuki Kazuya, what do you mean by that?!”

The only things Eijun hears are shouts and sounds of scuffling, along with Furuya's pitching. Eijun doesn't hear anyone else; maybe only four of the first string were inside.

"Well? Where is he? Sawamura-kun.”

“He was behind me a second ago! Wait a minute, Taicho!”

Eijun moves away from the doors a little, adjusts his cap while taking out his cell phone, pretending to use it. He has messages from Masamune and Yui, but he won't read them while he's in Seido.

"There you are!” Even without seeing him, Eijun is sure that Sawamura is pointing his finger at him. "What happened? You stayed far behind."

"Oh. I... I was answering some messages. I'm sorry." Eijun answered him while looking away and showing him his cell phone. Eijun quickly puts his phone in his pants pocket and takes out his sunglasses. At least he has a fragile shield in front of the few first-string players in the inner bullpen.

Eijun can do this. He can.

They are children. Teenagers. They're not the adult versions, you know—the ones who hurt you and you hurt in return. They are not the people you let down.

They are literally blank slates of who they will become in the future.

Sawamura enters; his feet suddenly seeming to miss and stick to the ground. Eijun takes the first step into the inner bullpen, and it's as if everyone stops what they're doing just to see him.

No, they don't. It's just Eijun's nervous and altered mind that makes him think that. Most are too focused on themselves to pay attention to him.

Although he is wrong in assuming there are only four of the first-stringers, seeing Tanba and Miyauchi (as well as a few third- and second-year students) is better than facing the whole team again.

Yet, his mind can only dwell on one man, one name:

Chris.

Where is he?

His younger self mentioned a training plan that must be Chris's doing. But despite the time he's been spying on Seido since he arrived, he hasn't seen it. This makes him anxious and leads him to think the worst.

What if there were another butterfly effect? What if Chris didn't come to Seido, just as Yui didn't go to his original middle school?

He's almost out of breath.

What if...?

No, that couldn't be. Tanba and Miyuki get along worse than Eijun remembers, and that can only be for one reason.

What if his injury was worse? What if he retired?

He feels like throwing up right now. Eijun discreetly puts a hand to his mouth as he closes his eyes to control the sudden dizziness he feels.

“My God, the second-years weren't kidding,” Eijun takes a deep breath as he swallows hard to look at the speaker, “It's nice to see you again, Ei-san.”

It’s Miyuki, who takes off his mask and stands up from his position, while handing the ball back to Furuya to approach him.

Of course that is Miyuki.

He's the only one in Seido (with the clear exception of Kariba) who could say his name with such emotion. That's his personality.

He still remembers the confusion in his eyes, the desperation in his calls to Tanba to at least get a ball that Eijun couldn't hit. That look that only expressed the question: 'How?'

It was fun to see him suffer. It felt good to hurt him like that until he remembered that the adult was him, and this Miyuki Kazuya was just a kid.

He doesn't want to think about Tanba, who surely took the hardest mental blow from that simulation.

Eijun moves his cap slightly in acknowledgement of the greeting. He doesn't rely much on his voice to answer back.

“We're glad to see you too," Tetsu says as he walks toward him with his hand outstretched. Eijun accepts the friendly handshake. "Are you here to see Sawamura?”

“He invited me. He wanted to ask me something about baseball.”

Saying those words had an immediate effect on everyone. Suddenly, everyone stopped whatever they were doing to surround him in a circle and lock him in as thousands of questions poured into their ears, his younger self looking annoyed, cat-eyed and blowing steam from his nose as he shouted, 'BACK OFF, YOU BEASTS! I ASKED FOR FIRST!'

And just as I had them on top of me, they moved away. All cleared their throats as they went back to their activities as if nothing had happened.

What the...?

Seido had always been... like this?

His younger self is this close to sprouting cat ears and a cat's tail.

“Don't be selfish, Sawamura. I think they have questions in that regard too," Miyuki teases, blatantly omitting that surely he has questions to do as well.

“Well, hold on! I have priority!”

With his legs spread wide, Sawamura walks heavily toward the practice mound while hissing at everyone.

God... that's how I looked?

How embarrassing.

“Oi, Bakamura. And who's going to catch for you?”

“You, damned tanuki!”

“Forget it. I already ended up catching for Furuya. My hand hurts.”

“That's a blatant lie! If you were tired, you wouldn't have agreed to catch for him anymore! I haven't pitched at all since I met Chris-senpai! What's more, I haven't seen him since!”

Chris?

So, is he here?

But... Where?

At least he now has one less weight on his chest.

“Haha! You deserve it! You must have annoyed him more than usual.”

“Shut up! “

Furuya, who stands apart from everyone. He looks bored, but the slightest mention of pitching puts him on alert.

“Throwing?” the boy mutters.

“No throwing” Miyuki scolds him immediately, “You've already reached your limit today, monster.”

“Oh...”

Eijun analyzes the situation.

This could be beneficial.

Actually, as distracted as he has been these days. Eijun has already lost track of where he is in the timeline. Obviously, it's after the Senbatsu and before he enters the first-string.

Has the game I make a battery with Chris happened yet? Or is it still not happening?

Very well, then...

“I'll catch for you," he says quietly, but Eijun knows everyone has heard him.

Silence. Not uncomfortable, but it's as if these kids don't believe what he's saying.

“You're a catcher?” Miyuki speaks, his eyes behind his sports glasses narrowing warily, "I thought you were a pitcher. In the higher leagues—, I mean. In college, it's very rare that they let them play another role.”

He knows.

Eijun knows that better than anyone.

Eijun takes another deep breath while looking around. To his bad luck, there is no extra mitt he can use until he looks at Miyuki’s.

“You say you're not going to catch anymore, right?” He says as he approaches the boy, who frowns as he stretches out his hand to him, "Can I borrow your mitt? I promise to return it.”

Miyuki seems to think long and hard before giving it to him. Perhaps just recalling the unpleasant memory of when Eijun gave him back his bat.

What's wrong with it? It's just a mitt.

As expected, the mitt on his left hand feels tight, but since the pitches are made by a younger and inexperienced himself, there is no risk of injury.

Eijun ignores everyone's surprised looks.

“Kariba wasn't joking either... he's ambidextrous,” someone whispers.

“If I'm going to catch for you,” Eijun starts, “I want you to warm your arm first.”

“GAHH! You too?”

“It's not up for discussion. Either you warm up your shoulders and arms or I'm leaving.”

His younger self agrees with cat eyes. Grumbling, but he does. Eijun doesn't even have to tell him what exercises to do, Sawamura starts moving his elbows in circles with his hands gently touching his shoulders. Six circular movements in front and six backwards. He does the same with his wrists, slow circular movements to loosen them.

Ah... He realizes. It's Chris's routine.

It's odd to see himself touching the toes of his sneakers with ease. Now he understands why he was often asked to walk as Sadako by his teammates in America.

The warm-up makes Sawamura and the others impatient. After ten minutes, Eijun finally gives his younger self the go-ahead.

"Why don't you show me what you have?" He says to Sawamura as he slips into the traditional position. Miyuki quickly gets behind him, placing net-kun to catch any bad throws from Sawamura.

"Oi, oi. Don't you at least want a mask?" Miyuki mutters. "This guy has zero control over his throws."

Eijun just smiles arrogantly at him.

"It is not necessary," he says.

“Finally!” Sawamura exclaims with joy. "Here I come!”

His eyes and mind see it immediately. His past self barely lifts his right leg, and Eijun knows he doesn't have the form Kataoka taught him yet. Sawamura submerges his leg too much, altering his center of gravity and forcing him to lean back more than necessary.

Eijun’s younger self might not mind or even notice because of his flexibility, but anyone else might. Pitching like this is very difficult.

His arm does not come out late either and the wall he makes with his right arm can hardly be called that.

Good grief, what an embarrassment. Really.

BAM!

The ball aggressively comes to his glove. Even when it naturally breaks because of Sawamura's flexible wrist, he has no problem moving his glove to where the ball broke.

Eijun can say this is the worst pitch he has ever caught in his life. A meatball in all its glory.

"A ball-tossing machine has more speed than you," he jokes as he gently returns the ball to his younger self.

"I think that's obvious!" Sawamura puffs out his chest but doesn't lose his enthusiasm… or he tries because when Sawamura sees Eijun stand up and leave Miyuki's mitt on the ground, his confidence starts to break.

Eijun also grabs one of the many balls inside the net to put it in his pants bag.

“Hey? Wait! I only made one pitch!”

“And one ‘pitch’ is all I need to see, you didn’t even do a grip, isn’t?”

“WHAT?!?! BUT YOU SAID THAT—?

“Do you want my advice or not?”

His question makes his younger self shut his mouth. The others around him seem curious of his next move, but Eijun tries to ignore them as much as he can.

He approaches his younger self, who suddenly starts sweating and becomes defensive when Eijun gets close. Only then does Eijun ask for the ball, stretching out his hand.

Sawamura, hesitant, gives it to him.

"The problem with your pitching style is that it's not effective," he says, rotating the ball with his left hand, feeling the seams one by one until his muscle memory leads him to the four-seam grip. "Your leg kick is too high, which influences your whole body. Haven't you noticed that every time you do it, you have to undo the motion?"

"Un... do... it?"

“You have a good balance and flexibility. Maybe that's why you don't feel it so much, but others will. You make extra movements that shouldn't be there. Making the throwing action more difficult, and you lose strength and stability in your leg. I'm actually more surprised that you haven't fallen on your butt on the mound yet.”

His joke embarrasses his younger self so much that his face turns red. Eijun almost wants to laugh.

Almost.

The memory of his fall on the mound when he first arrived at Koshien still haunts him.

“Now, when you do your leg kick, point your toes toward the ground, and when you land, land on your toes. While there are no absolutes in baseball, most of the great pitchers don't land on their toes; they land on their heels or on their flat feet. It depends more on how you feel, but another mistake I saw you make is that you don't bring everything together below the knee. There, you're getting unbalanced again.”

"You're just only criticize me!"

“Hum? I have to point out your mistakes first. If you keep this up, you're only going to hurt yourself. Do you want your baseball career to end that badly?" And with that, his younger self shuts his mouth. Eijun didn't intend to sound so serious, but if the others-who previously scoffed-are now silent as well, he must have gone a bit overboard with his tone of voice.

“I'm not saying your leg should be at a ninety-degree angle to your knee, just let it hang with gravity, let your foot be where it wants to be, understand?”

Sawamura nods, but Eijun is not quite sure he got the whole picture.

Well, I was always more kinesthetic and visual than auditory and verbal.

“Now, not everything you did was wrong. The position of your shoulders when you throw, where your chest is pointing, and how you spread your hands apart are all good. You just need small adjustments to improve your mechanics, so I want you to pay attention.”

It's all too familiar. The memory of a failed match for him, a night at the training ground throwing balls into the net. Kataoka finding him and mercifully shows him how to throw correctly. The wall in his right hand, the force transmitted in his fingers...

For his body, the stance is automatic. Chest on his side, hands relaxed in the middle of his thorax, almost under his heart.

“The important thing is how you pass all your strength to your fingers. As lefties, we create a 'wall' with our right arm that stores all our power,” it's that simple. Eijun’s body moves as he speaks. His muscles stretch in a delicious way that makes Eijun want to repeat the action even though he just started, “while our energy is transferred to our lower body.”

The action is immediate; his body rotates as his leg lands flat on the ground with force, and his hand releases the ball with force and power.

The ball roars, Miyuki even has to back up from where he was to avoid being hit, even though the net absorbed all the impact.

Just as Eijun was speechless when Kataoka showed it to him, his younger self couldn't speak either. His eyes and open mouth show the amazement of his throw, the excitement for it to be his turn to try it.

Eijun takes the ball he took before out of his pocket, extending it to Sawamura.

“Here, try it.”

His words bring his mini-self out of his reverie, who grabs the offered ball.

“Are you going to...?”

“Yes, I'm going to catch you. But first, train the posture and make the corrections I told you, then you can throw.”

He had decided long ago. He stands by his side, watching as his younger self slowly modifies his style with care. Like Yui, it's hard for him to do it the first time when his body has already become accustomed to certain habits, but Eijun helps him in that regard.

If his leg kick goes too high, Eijun gently lowers it and tells Sawamura to hold it for a few seconds. If the angle of his elbows goes down or up, Eijun tells him so as well as if his foot lands on tiptoe or too close.

When Sawamura's body seems to have become somewhat accustomed to the changes, Eijun allows him to throw.

It's going as well as can be expected.

The trajectory of the ball is more stable and has gained speed. There are still details to polish, but that will only come with practice to form a new muscle memory in the body of his younger self.

“Yosha! Did you see that? —That felt great!” Sawamura's eyes scream with emotion. Bright, full of life.

Not like Eijun's.

“Look at that, you can learn new tricks.”

“Miyuki Kazuya!”

Eijun snorts with amusement but gives a proud smile to his younger self.

“It's good, but it still has room for improvement," he says as he walks over to the net to grab the glove and a ball that he returns to Sawamura, "Now I'll catch.”

It's like going back to Yui and Shoto. His past self is easily excited by his successes and frustrated by his mistakes. While the positive reinforcement of praise must be guarded against (he is fully aware of the huge ego Sawamura has), the pitches improve quickly with each throw.

Eijun puts the limit at fifty. Most were more balls than strikes, but that's to be expected.

As he stands up to stretch and move his hair back from his forehead, he notices that the others are still watching them (is it his imagination, or are there more children around? Is that Masuko over there?). In fact, standing in the doorway is Rei with her broken glasses and that sly smile.

Oh... I’m in trouble? They told him he could come to work formally tomorrow, but...

“I was wondering where my first-string players were. I didn't expect to see a small gathering here," she says calmly. Almost with a proud tone.

“Neither did we," Tetsu answered, one of his fingers scratching his cheek with embarrassment, "but Sawamura asked Ei-san for advice, and honestly, I was a little bit fascinated by the explanation... I'm not a pitcher, but it was interesting to know a little bit about the technical side of pitching and what Sawamura was doing wrong when he was throwing.”

Ah.

Was it that interesting? Eijun thought he was boring them more than usual, and he didn't even explain the technical stuff. 

“You guys had fun, I can see it. While I'm glad, you shouldn't neglect your own training; you can ask Ei-san for advice on other days. After all, he'll be around for a while... And, oh! you guys are about to miss dinner.”

What subtlety. Confusion reigns more over the realization in the boys.

“Is it that late already?” Sawamura exclaims, really shocked by the passage of time. The other boys look almost as shocked.

“It's half past nine, guys. Your dinner is half an hour earlier.” Rei doesn't even hide her little laugh.

Most say goodbye to him before rushing off to the dining room. Others just give him a look and leave. His younger self thanks him for his time and patience teaching him before leaving as well, bowing exaggeratedly before running like hell, finally leaving Eijun alone.

Or partially, Rei and Miyuki are still there. Eijun, though tired and with a heavy stomach, lets out a sigh as he moves his tense neck carefully.

It's almost amusing for him to see how Miyuki tries to be one with the shadows, as if he doesn't want Rei to notice he's there.

“I'm glad to see he took it well," she says as approaches him. Eijun puts his left hand on his right shoulder to start making circular motions with it.

“He took it well because he doesn't fully understand what my existence means.”

No one really will. Now that he has finally gone where the universe did not subtly want him to go, what does it mean for Eijun? He may call his younger self Sawamura, but he hasn't even made the effort to call himself Ei.

"Are you being too hard on yourself? Just give him time. I'm sure you'll become an important part of his family someday. I met the Sawamuras in person; they didn't seem spiteful.”

"I guess," he replied, pausing his stretching without much encouragement. He really hopes that's the case; he wants to hug his mom again and talk to his dad. He wants to play shogi with Eitoku to see if he can finally beat him now that he's grown up.

"I—I won?" He can't really believe it. He looks at the board over and over again, blinking hard to make sure he's seeing reality.

"You won," his grandfather replies with a smile. It doesn't look like his usual ones. Eijun is missing something. He’s sure of it. But the thrill of victory, of finally beating his grandpa, overshadows that worry.

"I—I won! I finally beat you! This Sawamura Eijun feels a great honor to have—!"

His excitement is interrupted by a slap out of nowhere.

"GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF! Your flight leaves early tomorrow, doesn't it? You should go to sleep and stop overexciting yourself.”

"THAT'S WHAT I WAS ABOUT TO DO!"

It was a game that remained engraved in his mind. He played it on lonely nights in America, but it wasn't until Eitoku's death that he realized his grandfather had let him win.

“If you would like to have dinner, you are welcome to use the dining room too. I need to arrange a few details with management so you can work with us tomorrow.”

Eijun sees Miyuki, who is still trying to merge with the darkness, take on a look of surprise.

"I appreciate it very much. Rei-san. But I think I'll eat at home.”

Nonexistent, of course. Eijun always buys whatever is on sale and eats it right away because he knows it won't last more than a day in his refrigerator. Walking to the Seven-Eleven near Seido won't take that long.

Rei bids farewell to both of them. Clearly aware of Miyuki.

After watching her leave, Eijun sighs and, with a hand on his hip, he confronts the one he least wants to spend time with.

It's not that Miyuki Kazuya. It's not. He thinks.

Yet. That voice he hates so much, answers.

“Well? Do you need anything from me?”

Miyuki almost seems to fall on his face. A nervous hand on the back of his neck as Miyuki avoids his gaze and finally clears his throat.

Shyness? That's new.

The Miyuki I knew was a bastard to everyone.

Of course, Eijun would never expect a direct answer; that's how Miyuki works. He will first try to flatten the ground for himself if he feels he is at a disadvantage. If that's not the case, he'll loosen his mouth and say whatever he wants or what others expect to hear.

He already knows it, so he's not surprised when Miyuki smiles and laughs like it's nothing, moving towards the net to pretend the balls inside are more interesting.

“Me? I was just hoping you'd give me back my mitt. That's all.”

“Sure…”

“It's the truth!”

Eijun snorts, but plays along. The mitt in his hand has already become quite uncomfortable, but that's what he gets for making sudden decisions. He has no trouble taking it off; he expects that he might even have to move to give it to him, but it is Miyuki who is already in front of him with his hand outstretched.

It's a very familiar scene. So much so that Eijun’s mind wants to start flying through his memories to find the exact memory and play it.

But Eijun can't afford that. Not with Miyuki.

That's why he forces himself to stay in reality. The mitt in his hands perhaps stays longer than it should. Whispers of a time when everything was simpler haunt him. The words 'work of art', 'aibou', and 'Sawamura' invade him like a poison that corrodes his veins, leaving only burning and itching that he wants to remove with his fingernails.

But which is stronger, Eijun’s will or hatred and guilt?

His body decides for him. The mitt is returned gently, gently even. The shades do a good job of hiding how he feels when Miyuki speaks to him once again.

“You didn't answer my question.” It's sudden. But by the standards of Miyuki Kazuya's social skills, it's in the norm.

“Question?”

“Before you corrected Sawamura's stance," Miyuki adds, "I asked you if you were a catcher, but you never answered.”

Eijun thinks about it for a few seconds.

It's irrational, he knows. Unprofessional as it shows how much it makes him uncomfortable to be around Miyuki and how little or no interest he has in interacting with him for the sake of both of them.

Because for Eijun, regardless of what version of Miyuki Kazuya sees, he doesn't think Miyuki has the right to even ask him anything. Being here, now, alone with him—it feels like a countdown that he doesn't know how it will end when it reaches zero. Will Eijun want to hurt Miyuki with his words, just like he did in the batting simulation? Will Eijun take advantage now that the roles have changed?

By hierarchy, by presence; Eijun is in every respect above Miyuki, but for some reason, it doesn't feel that way.

You are the adult, Eijun. Act like one. ACT LIKE ONE.

“I am," he replies in a deeper voice than usual, trying to keep his animosity to himself when Miyuki makes a move of wanting to talk, "What? Is it so odd that you see a pitcher play other positions? You are aware that you don't know everything, right?”

Ah… something went wrong.

Kazuya's body language is slightly altered, as if he feels in danger and his first instinct is to move a little away from Eijun and avoid her gaze. It's subtle, of course, Miyuki wouldn't allow himself to show weakness in front of others.

If Eijun doesn't misremember, Miyuki was also treated like Yui. Found at an early age by the media and the internet, put on a pedestal for his skills and sense of the game. A prodigy catcher whose decisions were never questioned because, who else could? For Seido, only Chris had become equal or more important than Miyuki, and most of the time, Seido ended up depending on them to keep the team going.

Who would’ve thought? Because of this, both Miyuki and Chris ended up injured.

So, maybe Miyuki feels so defensive because Eijun is the first to question him. He recognizes his talent, yes. He will never deny that.

But what lies behind the wall, what he has lived and experienced in the professional world, goes beyond that. Miyuki would have been the only one in Eijun's small world when he was a teenager, but now as an adult...

Miyuki Kazuya was just one talent among thousands of talents.

In the end, I was the one who got to the professional world first and not you...

Eijun takes a deep breath. He must close his eyes before the shadow of Miyuki's future juxtaposes with the shadow of his past. Before the childish features on his face become hard and long, and his voice deepens.

"That wasn't my intention," Miyuki mutters. He soon changes his attitude, though. His shyness disappears, and he looks relaxed, as if they had just shared a good joke. "I just wanted to talk to you, from one catcher to another."

“Why…?”

Miyuki becomes serious, and the silence becomes heavier and heavier until, in a deep voice, Miyuki speaks again.

"Unlike the others... I know your secret."

Eijun is lucky to have his sunglasses on; otherwise, Miyuki would have seen his eyes almost pop out of his head.

"W-What?"

Did he know?

How did you know?

Do you also time-travel? What are you trying to do?

Did the future Miyuki also come to the past? But unlike Eijun, did he come back in his younger body? Did he hear their stories and notice the gaps?

Eijun's body trembles, and his hands tingle.

This is bad.

Very bad!

"You..."

Eijun can almost taste the bitterness in his mouth. He's about to leave and find a trash can when Miyuki smiles slyly and makes a peace sign.

"You're a professional player, aren't you? The others think you're a college student! But you play like someone who's been doing this for years.”

How many times has Eijun been speechless today? Two? Three? Without a doubt, Miyuki has won the prize for taking his soul out of his body and giving him a heart attack at his twenty-five.

Can I pass out? I could use a moment to turn off my brain...

Eijun wants to be angry and yell at Miyuki for being a bastard, but he can only mutter.

"How did you...?"

Miyuki looks proud, his smile widening as he snorts, acting like he deserves a Nobel Prize.

“I spent sleepless nights trying to figure out how you could read me in the simulation,” his voice is horribly sweetened with the equivalent of a kilogram of sugar, maybe that's why with every word Miyuki says, he seems to increase the speed at which he speaks by five points, “the truth is that everything ended in home runs and I couldn't find out what kind of pitches you gave to Ryou-san and Tetsu for strike them out, even for more books or videos I looked for. I saw your framing behind the net too, it's splendid! It almost makes me wish I had a high-speed camera to see it in detail! College students wish they had one as good as yours, and you don't have an umpire to charm! You just do it by muscle memory! Your pitching style is amazing too! Ididn'tknowyouwereambidextrous!Whydidn'tyoutellus? Whatprofessionalteamareyouon? AreyouplayingintheMLBorMiLB? Areyouonasecretvacation? Didyougetinjuredandthat'swhyyoucamehere? Whydidyouagreetoworkhere...?”

Eijun is not quite sure what kind of expression he has on his face. Maybe he is blank because of the shock he is feeling right now, because of the scare Miyuki gave him when Eijun thought MIyuki had discovered his real secret, and now because Eijun is seeing a side he never saw in him in his three years in Seido.

He's... He's literally talking so fast that I can't understand him!

And yet, it's another reality check for him.

This Miyuki isn’t Miyuki, as confusing as that might sound. He’s a teenager—one with social and emotional skills comparable to a rock, passionate about baseball to the point of being an otaku about it. So far, his biggest concern is probably training, and his medium-term goal is making it to Koshien.

It hurts to see it. It hurts a lot.

What did it take for Eijun those years to even see this side of Miyuki? What is he doing now as an adult that seems to bring out this side of Miyuki that his Seido self could not?

Eijun would laugh, he would. But if he does, maybe he'll break even more than he already is.

“Ei-san?” Miyuki calls out to him. His Tanuki face betrays that he barely noticed Eijun stopped paying attention to him.

“You're not wrong," he says calmly, trying to disguise the deep breaths he's taking to get oxygen to his brain, "but I'd appreciate it if that were between you and me. There's a reason I don't go around shouting that to everyone...”

Eijun shouldn't make any more plans. Nothing goes his way—everything ends up falling apart. As a coach, he can't show favoritism, but he also won't be able to ignore Miyuki.

Except Miyuki seems so… energetic.

"So, you're on vacation?"

“Something like that.”

“A slump?”

“Things happened, and I needed to think,” no lie, of course, even if Eijun was doing it well in his last matches with the Yankees.

Although... Being a zombie isn't exactly great, is it?

Miyuki seems to want to say more, but Eijun interrupts him. He's really tired.

"Look, uh..." Technically, Eijun shouldn't say his name. He hasn't been asked, and it would be strange for a foreigner to know about a local player like Miyuki—no matter how good he is.

"Miyuki Kazuya.”

“Yeah, Miyuki-kun, look; it's been a long day, and I haven't eaten or rested as much as I would like. You already know that I'm going to start working here so... I can answer your questions later.”

The look Miyuki gives him is like that of a scolded puppy. The excitement he was radiating starts to fade—not entirely, but just enough to drag them back to their awkward beginning.

Just... be cordial. Keep your distance. Just like in Izumi club.

“You should do the same. If you run to the dining room now, you might not dine alone. A catcher like you should eat well and get the necessary rest. Seido's star must be in good shape.”

"Star...?" Miyuki murmurs. Eyes confused. “Haven't you… Haven't you seen him...?

"Hm? Aren't you Seido's main catcher? As far as I know, you're the one on the first string, aren't you?"

Ah, maybe Eijun shouldn't have said that. God knows how arrogant Miyuki will become around others because of those words. But, to his dismay, Miyuki remains silent. The boy opens his mouth as if to say something. He even grimaces and furrows his brow, but in the end, he seems to regret it.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Ei-san," he finally says. Miyuki stands for a few seconds, admiring the floor, before running away.

Wow.

If Eijun were more honest with himself, he would admit that he would be the one running away.

Well... at least I managed to keep some dignity today.

Chapter 8: Ghosts.

Ring...!

Ring...!

Ring...!

RING!

“Hello?”

“I apologize for the call," a female voice says from the phone, "but this number was given to us so that we could obtain a letter of recommendation from you.”

Oh! She must be...

“Of course! Let me guess. You're from Seido, aren't you?”

“In effect. My name is Takashima Rei and if you don't mind, Masamune-san, I would like to ask you some questions about Sawamura Ei.”

“Why didn't you say so before? I have all the time in the world! Tell me, what do you want to know?”

.

.

.

"Before you hang up, could you do me a favor, Miss Rei?"

Takeru knows he can't trust Ei's text messages. Since that boy came into his life, it feels like having a second son—more fragile and troubled. Admittedly, he hasn't been able to dig too deep into Ei’s life, but if the boy has been living in a sad internet café for months, things must’ve been pretty rough.

"Of course. I'm all ears."

And yet, he’s a professional player.

But what intrigues Takeru the most is how a Yankees player could be so far from home and broke. He has searched the internet and read all the team rosters, but Ei doesn't appear anywhere.

His theory that he westernized his name is stronger, but… There aren’t even any photos of him.

He’s like a ghost, non-existent. It’s inexplicable.

What are you hiding? What happened to you?

“Do you think Seido could take care of him from time to time? I know he's an adult, but he's pretty careless, and I'm worried he'll become more self-destructive.”

Ei barely ate with him—with the sole exception of the first day, when he gorged himself on food until his stomach nearly forced him to vomit, and that sad internet café only served curry sauce and white rice. While Ei's physical condition didn't look bad, but is not what a professional baseball player should eat.

"Oh, I think I know what you mean. We had a similar situation with him recently, but he seems to be doing better these days.”

Takeru was not prepared to receive that news.

Collapsing on the mound? Not eating all day?

“We can't intervene either, but we'll try to keep an eye on him. You said it yourself, Masamune-san: He's an adult. There's not much we can do if he doesn't want our help.”

Yeah, Takeru understands. It's normal.

“It's okay. I appreciate your call. You know I'm here for you.”

With that, the call ends.

Takeru is not angry, not at all.

Pulling out his cell phone, he sends a message.

Message from, Masamune-san at 15:48:   You are taking care of yourself, aren't you? If I find out that's not the case, I'll drag you to a hospital in Tokyo myself...

By the way, the kids send their regards.

Eijun breaks out in a cold sweat at the message as he tries to eat most of the bargain bento he bought.

He doesn't make it, but at least tonight he won't go to sleep on an empty stomach.

.

.

.

.

It's cold, very cold.

Why?

“I understand that Erick's death hurts you, do you think I'm made of stone?” He is there, in his apartment. Eijun looks at the figure with difficulty from his hard bed, his eyes blurred from crying so much, from not sleeping, from getting angry and mistreating his room until he turns it into the dump it is.

He wonders if Johan looks at him with disgust.

“I’m not, Eijun. It hurt me too. It hurt when he hid his strange osteoporosis from us, it hurt when he said goodbye to me when he left for Mexico and now my heart broke when I learned of his death.” Jhon finishes whispering the last word, “But if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that he wouldn't want you to be in this state.”

And what can he do?

For Eijun, it's as if his body has another mind. It doesn't obey him, he feels tired, he just wants to stay in his bed all the time and the food he has is disgusting. He can't eat it even though they are in good condition.

And the media.

THE MEDIA.

They keep chasing him. They won't leave him alone; they talk about his demise as a pitcher; they throw out crap about his Aibou just because they don't know the truth yet. They shout loudly that the Yankees' reign is over now that ‘the dream battery’ is over.

Bullshit, pure and utter bullshit.

Eijun’s hands clench his sheets tightly.

Johan approaches him. Eijun wants to hiss at him to go away, to leave him alone in his room, away from the world that makes him suffer.

“Come on, Jun. Let's go outside. Your skin could use some sun.”

“I don't...”

“Come on," Johan says the word forcefully, "don't do it for me. Do it for Erick.”

“Don't... don't say his name," he pleads. He doesn't know when he started sobbing again, but far from falling, Johan grips him tightly and steadily. Eijun's legs, although they behave like jelly, manage to stay on the ground, “please. It hurts...”

“I know. Come on, Eijun, let's go to the stadium, the team has been asking for you.”

“Do they?”

"Of course. You're their ace," he says. One more step, two, three. Now they are close to the door. Eijun holds his arm above Johan's back for support.

"They appreciate you, Eijun. More than you can imagine. Don't break their hearts, either." These words are mumbled so quietly that Eijun can barely hear them.

Four, five, six steps. In his living room. At least it's more decent than his bedroom, despite the darkness from the covered windows. Erick's sweater is lying on the couch. It still has its scent, along with a slight hint of the sweet cologne he liked to wear.

Eijun leaves it there for fear of losing the faint scent if he takes it to his bed.

Seven, eight, nine, and ten steps. Now they are at the entrance. Johan opens the door with difficulty, and the sun's rays greet them. Eijun closes his eyes, pained by the sudden intensity and heat on his face.

"Come on," says Johan.

Eijun doesn’t refuse.

He falls asleep as soon as he sits in the passenger seat, lulled to sleep by the engine.

.

.

.

Eijun wakes up with a bitter taste in his mouth and pain. He can barely make it down the stairs in time to reach the toilet and empty his stomach.

With heartburn and a sour taste in his throat, he falls to the floor of his small living room, unable to stand upright as the ceiling spins endlessly above him.

He feels cold. Very cold.

Eijun shrinks to the ground, squeezing Erick's medallion tightly in his left hand. It feels strangely warm, as if to bring him some comfort.

"Erick," he sobs. His throat hurts, but he has to endure it. The nails on his left hand break painfully against the wood. "Erick...!"

“Aibou!”

“Why did you leave me alone...?”

Chapter Text

Eijun hasn't been able to sleep a wink all night.

He stays on the cold floor for a while, his head facing nowhere in particular. His toes are frozen, his hands numb, with only his left hand warm enough to squeeze Erick's medallion with all his strength, trying to preserve the warmth of the object even as his body suffers.

What happened?

He had been fine; he had been able to meet Sawamura without the universe or the timeline exploding. He was able to talk to Miyuki without being a complete jerk to him, he now has a stable job, and his test to obtain his elementary school certification is this week...

He felt fine, and then suddenly he was back in the dark hole.

Or maybe Eijun had never left; the little moments of happiness, or rather, of rest, were just the calm before the storm— an illusion.

Was it too much? Will visiting Seido always be this mentally taxing? What will become of him now that Eijun has to work there every day?

He... had done everything right. Eijun doesn't understand why his mind is torturing him, punishing him with painful memories, events that his heart has not been able to overcome.

Eijun is still on the floor. The darkness allows him to see the kitchen only partially, and in small flashes, moonlight manages to seep through the curtains of dubious quality. He’s still a mess because even when he tries to close his eyes and wait for exhaustion to overcome him, it doesn't work.

His body hurts when he tries to sit up. He almost falls face-first if he hadn't managed to drag himself a little way towards the stairs that lead to his 'room'. Climbing them is a challenge; his legs don't respond as he would like, and he has an irrational fear of falling. He doesn't have the money to pay for a hospital.

His odyssey is rewarded when his hand manages to touch his futon, and he can drag himself a little to the edge to reach his phone and blind himself with the light of the screen. The time is 4:30 in the morning.

Eijun carefully climbs down, sitting on the floor as he lets out a sigh of relief. His hands rub his eyes hard, as if that could make the burning and dry tears go away. The screen of his phone almost blinds him with its brightness for a few seconds as Yui's unread message notification innocently pops up.

A little irresponsible of him. Eijun was always one to read notifications, but then forget to reply.

His thumb moves before his brain can decide. The notification is tapped, and facial recognition is activated, giving way to the small, almost one-sided chat. Yui writes a lot, quite a lot. Eijun doesn't remember if it was a trait of his; he was never that close to Seido's version of Yui when the catcher was more akin to Furuya.

But at least he's not like Amahisa, sending messages all the time as if Eijun had nothing else to do, so he considers that a victory.

Conversations with Yui don't last long. The boy likes to talk about what they've been doing in practice, problems Yui sometimes has with Shoto, or sometimes the boy asks for advice on improving his posture or imagines simulations to discuss different possible decision-making scenarios.

In a way, Eijun feels good talking to Yui. He's happy that someone needs him, even if that's a selfish thought.

The only thing Eijun doesn't like is that Yui tries to do the same thing as Masamune. Sure, they're both miles away from him, but it's embarrassing for him that they both want to control him as if he were a teenager who has just become independent from his parents and needs constant supervision.

That's not to say it's wrong.  Eijun owes Masamune a lot, and without him, he would definitely still be in Sendai, living in the internet café— probably dead from a curry overdose.

Eijun can take care of himself, but he knows he owes Masamune at least a message that he's alive (as best he can).

Since his panic attack, Yui seemed to want to monitor him, talk to him about it, and Eijun doesn't blame him. The poor boy was practically right next to him when it happened, and, normally, it made a big impression on him.

But Yui is a child; he shouldn't be concerned with Eijun's problems. Eijun appreciates the gesture, but Yui and Masamune... their concern is slowly suffocating him.

Eijun just wants to be left alone for a few days. He's not that fragile; he's not a porcelain doll or a glass on the edge of a table that a cat could knock over. The fact that he was able to overcome what is classified in the future as a neuromuscular disease says a lot about him.

Eijun isn't weak; he knows he isn't. But he doesn't understand how he can make Yui and Masamune see that.

Yui's messages shine. Eijun reads them carefully out of respect, pausing at the photos that Yui usually sends along with her written messages—at this point, perhaps the entire gallery on Eijun's phone is about the Izumi Club—observing the happy faces of the children, the strange faces they sometimes make, and others where they try to pretend they don't see the camera just to look cooler.

Part of him hates that they look that way. The thought that they are happier now that he’s gone is recurrent when he sees them, something he cannot shake until his eyes read Yui's words.

"We miss you!"

Or sometimes, it's audio recordings of all of them shouting at him. Making childish promises, assuring him that they will win their version of Koshien, so that Eijun will be forced to travel from Tokyo to Sendai to see them win the final game.

"Remember your promise!"

And Eijun also promised from time to time to watch their games. To tell the truth, it's Rika-chan or Masamune who sends him a message asking if he wants to watch the games and a link to the broadcast.

Eijun watches them. He watches them even though, after a while, he gets bored and, like a caged lion, tries to clean his apartment to keep his mind occupied and avoid biting his nails or picking at the skin on his fingers.

His hand grips the phone tightly before he takes a deep breath and puts it down on the floor. His gaze goes to the ceiling, to the small spotlight in the apartment.

I won't be able to sleep, will I?

He won't.

Eijun decides that there's not much point in staying there. He could go for a run. That activity has always been almost equivalent to meditation for him. It helps him organize his thoughts, allows him to concentrate, and lets him release his anxiety and anger less destructively.

Even so, Eijun remains seated until he is sure his legs can support his weight. Getting up is torturous, and walking is embarrassing when he has to lean on the walls to get to the kitchen and turn on the tap to drink water and wash his face. The bitterness in his mouth slowly fades, just as his heart slows down, as the cold water calms him and finishes waking him up.

Eijun rubs his eyes hard, sighing as he leans on the sink to take a few deep breaths before going to the closet to find his Izumi club uniform. It's not blue, but purple sweatpants paired with a jacket of the same color with white stripes. A typical anime uniform that teachers often wear when teaching physical education class.

Who would have thought Eijun would be wearing one of these? Teaching Seido. Dealing with teenagers and children. He doesn't have a teacher's way about him; his Aibou was always the one who was better at explaining things. Going from the general to the specific.

Although his brief time with the Izumi Club and his trips to the library to learn how to teach while trying to apply theory with the children gave him some experience, he feels that he could not be the same with Seido. Most of the children already have the basics of baseball, and Eijun can no longer take refuge in those who know nothing at all.

And worst of all, he doesn't know what kind of responsibilities Kataoka and Rei will give him.

Part of Eijun fears that they will make him interact with the first-string. It's not that he doesn't get along with their future selves, but his interaction with most of them doesn't go beyond simple text messages. But looking at them reminds him that he let them all down, that the torch that had been carefully passed down from generation to generation, from hand to hand, to fulfill the dreams of those who were retiring because they were already in their third year and reality was hitting them hard... that all of that was simply broken in Eijun's generation because of himself is something that haunts Eijun, something he thinks about from time to time.

Eijun was a fool. Perhaps even that word falls short of describing how the first words Chris said to him when Eijun first entered Seido would come true.

"I wouldn't trust my three years to someone like you."

Chris told him it wasn't his fault—or rather, that it wasn't entirely his responsibility for what happened, but Eijun knows very well that he started it, feeding a small flame that ended up overflowing and starting a fire at Seido. Burning his bond with Okumura and, in the process, dragging the rest of the first string into his problems just because Eijun was too naive and stupid for his own good.

His hands pound on the closet doors. Eijun grits his teeth.

Don't think about it.

His nails dig into his palms. Pain is relief.

Don't think about it.

But it's hard.

Very difficult.

Sometimes Eijun's brain likes to remind him of his mistakes. And once it starts, it's impossible to stop thinking about them. They remain etched in his corneas, repeating themselves over and over again even though he closes his eyes and murmurs, "Enough."

It's even worse when he's like this, locked up— alone. With no one to talk to or turn to, nothing to do to distract himself. Before, Coach Johan was his relief, the Yankees. Before them, his Aibou, and before him...

Chris.

Anger at being weak floods him. Eijun has overcome worse things, he has. He’s still alive, even though Erick is gone; he still plays baseball despite having yips at such a young age and continues to play even if he hates the sport of his life, which bores him. Frustrates him.

Because if he's bad at the only thing he's good at, what does he have left in this life?

It's suffocating. He can't stay here another minute, going around in circles— remembering.

Eijun barely has the mental strength not to forget his keys and put his phone in his pants before running out and jogging down the hallway and stairs. A jog that, as the cool morning air gently touches him and combs his damp hair, becomes an intimate and familiar run to Seido High School.

It's instinctive. Completely automatic after three whole years of running to school. Eijun starts by running around the outside of the high school, his body recognizing the terrain that welcomed him and was his second home years ago. Eijun runs at a moderate pace until he reaches the training fields.

It's muscle memory when he heads to training field B and begins a march he knows well, remembering the lyrics that Yuki-san, Miyuki, and later Kanemaru shouted at the top of their lungs to cheer the team on and force them to keep up the pace.

It's as if he were a teenager again, running around the field, his trusty tire tied to his hip, with Furuya and Haruichi at his side, trying to catch up. With the third-years shouting at him and the sounds of balls flying and bats making contact.

One lap around the field, two laps.

Sweat runs down Eijun's face and back. It's a lot more than normal, even though he's only done three laps. Even his heart rate is higher when the sound of his heartbeat is so loud in his pounding ears.

Eijun takes a deep breath, trying to keep up the pace. His lungs are burning, but he can keep going. He should keep going. This is nothing; he has run harder before; he has monstrous endurance.

He should...

I SHOULD...!

"You should stop, Ei," Erick's voice startles him; his hands turn to butter, and his cell phone falls with a loud noise onto the pavement.

"O-Oi!" Eijun complains as he stops his workout to pick it up. Erick doesn't look happy.

"No 'Oi.' From you," Yes, Erick is angry. He's even put his hands on his hips, and his accent has become more noticeable. "You pitched almost the entire game yesterday! Johan told you to rest! Not to go running at four in the morning like a madman!"

Eijun opens his mouth to explain, but before he can even say that this is a normal routine for him, that Erick should know that by now, Erick gets so close to him and frowns so hard with his uncombed red hair that Eijun cowers and remains silent.

"No way!" Erick says in Spanish, which Eijun has gotten better at understanding over time. "I know this is normal for you, but I'm not going to let you kill yourself with exhaustion just because you don't understand your limits! ¿Al chile quieres herirte tanto?”*

What did he say?

"Alchi- what?"

"I'll explain later," Erick replies quickly, then points his finger accusingly at him, almost touching his chin. "You're coming with me to my apartment right now, or you can forget about me ever cooking for you again."

Ah, Eijun feels like a dog scolded by its owner. He doesn't even resist when Erick takes him by the hand to his apartment. Their homes aren't that far apart.

Wouldn't it be easier... if we lived together? Eijun thinks about it.

It's a thought he's had a few times. He's gotten used to living alone, but... if Erick could spend more time with him, his life would be even better.

Besides, the rent would be cheaper...

No, wait. That makes him wonder about something else.

"How did you know I'd be running?" Eijun can't help but groan accusingly. "Oh! Did you read my mind?! DID YOU USE YOUR SUPERNATURAL CATCHER SKILLS THAT YOU STILL HAVEN'T TAUGHT ME AGAIN?!"

And Erick, his anger now subsided, takes out his keys to open the door, but not before smiling slyly at him, as if he knows something Eijun doesn't.

His mole becomes more noticeable every time Eijun sees him smile.

"Let's just say... my catcher instinct told me you'd do something stupid today. Great minds think alike, don’t you think?"

Eijun slows down until he comes to a complete stop when he feels bitterness in his mouth and realizes that maybe leaving home with an empty stomach and frustrated with the world wasn’t the best idea.

His chest hurts, Eijun feels like he can't breathe, but not in the way he experiences his panic attacks, not that suffocating feeling that makes him wonder if he's dying.

No, it's more like exhaustion. From overdoing it, from reaching his limit and continuing to force his body to do things it can't yet do.

It's weird— strange. Frustrating on almost the same level as when he fails at something simple when he's on the diamond. So used to his abnormal endurance and unlimited energy that when he's not thinking clearly, Eijun thinks he can do the same old things to distract his brain.

Is he more stupid than usual? Probably, Eijun should know by now that not eating well and doing nothing in Sendai since he traveled through time did wonders for his body. On the contrary, it worsened a problem he had been dragging along since Erick...

Eijun leans forward, resting his hands on his knees as he forces himself to breathe through his nose to calm the growing nausea he feels. The sound of the cicadas he didn't notice before is now more noticeable, fading as the sun rises to illuminate the world.

It's too late for him to even think about running away or pretending he's better than his appearance tells the world when he hears heavy footsteps approaching him. It goes without saying who it is. Eijun knows few people as deranged as he is who get up at ungodly hours.

And also, he would recognize the presence that Coach Kataoka always has, even if he were blindfolded.

Kataoka doesn't speak, but Eijun doesn't need it to understand the silent question in his gaze.

Without his sunglasses or cap, he feels so exposed. Defenseless.

Well, better to die with honor, right?

"Good morning, Coach Kataoka," Eijun greets him as best he can, but his voice sounds agitated and raspy. "I didn't… expect to find you here at this hour."

"I could say the same thing."

God, how intimidating.

Eijun decides to sacrifice some of his dignity and sit down on the ground while praying to all the gods that he won't start gagging when the bitterness in his mouth persists.

"You're out of shape," Kataoka doesn't ask; he states.

"I suppose so."

"Did you eat dinner last night? Did you even eat breakfast?"

"I had a little dinner, but I haven't had breakfast."

Kataoka remains silent, probably still judging him with his gaze, perhaps wondering about the dark circles under Eijun's eyes, which he may have from waking up at dawn and crying.

"And yet you still went out for a run. I saw you arrive at five o'clock and wondered what kind of lunatic would be running around the field so early in the morning but Sawamura. Of course, I should have guessed. It was you."

Kataoka speaks to Eijun as if he knows him. A feeling similar to anger rises in his chest.

Kataoka's words, for some reason, feel so accusatory. It's not that Kataoka has told any lies, quite the contrary, he's spitting out truths, but a fear that people will see that Eijun doesn't belong here. That he feels so much like Sawamura to the point of being unsettling does his brain no good.

Yesterday, he almost died because of Miyuki and his poor social skills. Even when he got home, he thought about how stupid it was to think that Miyuki, of all people, could discover his secret.

In fact, it's silly to think that anyone with a shred of sanity would think Eijun is a time traveler. The person most likely to understand the truth is probably Chris, but even that scares him.

He hasn't seen Chris yet; he doesn't know how he gets along with his younger self, apart from small clues that indicate that even his younger version doesn't know about his injury and that he simply hates that Chris won't let him pitch.

If Eijun tells the truth to Chris, he might doubt Eijun’s sanity, perhaps finding it hard to believe simply because his bond with Sawamura has not yet developed that much.

Eijun takes a deep breath, shaking his head to clear away those disturbing thoughts and return to reality to wait for more words from Kataoka, perhaps a fatherly scolding like Masamune's, perhaps a motherly concern like Rei's. Something. Anything.

No, stop.

He's mistaken people. Rei, at least.

Masamune had already told him that Eijun reminded him of his son, and Rei is simply being kind to him, as any human being would be. She doesn't know Eijun beyond him now being a new coworker and his skills as a professional, just like Masamune did.

Before he can form another thought, a hand is extended toward him. Eijun doesn't dare look at Kataoka's face, perhaps for fear that he will see how much it hurts to see him, to interact with him.

A deep breath and pain in his stomach from hunger are enough for him to accept the hand and allow Kataoka to help him up in silence.

Yeah, Kataoka may not be a great social butterfly, but his actions and intimidating gaze often speak louder than words.

"Thank you, Kataoka-san," Eijun murmurs as he brushes the dirt off his pants with light pats, lowering his head to avoid Kataoka's gaze.

"Kataoka," says the man, "there's no need for formalities between us."

Okay...

This is...

Unexpected.

But surely Eijun feels that way because... It's just hard to see Kataoka as anything other than the coach and mentor he knew.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I'll survive," Eijun jokes as he cleans the sweat on his face.

His response doesn't seem to please Kataoka, if the slight grimace on his mouth is any indication.

Even if Eijun is the best at making friends and talking, the awkward silence between them is too heavy for him to break. Kataoka even clears his throat and turns toward the dorms, just in time to see Sawamura start some light stretching next to a tire.

"Rei and I usually have coffee at this time," Kataoka says. "Come with us, we'll go over some details, so you don't start blindly today."

Well, Eijun can't refuse that—not that he can in the first place, it's not a question of what Kataoka said, if I heard correctly. Kataoka is technically his boss now... or something like that.

No, technically, the principals are my bosses now. Kataoka is a coworker, like Rei and Ota.

It's strange to think of being on the same level as his former coach and teachers, talking to them informally and not with the respect a high school kid would show.

"In your office? I'll be there in a moment," he says as he fixes his gaze on Sawamura. Kataoka seems to recognize his intentions. "I want to... say hello to Sawamura-kun."

"Go ahead," Kataoka allows, walking calmly away from Eijun without turning around.

God, sometimes the confidence they give me scares me.

Eijun pats his cheeks to wake himself up before taking a deep breath and shouting while waving his left hand to get Sawamura's attention, who is tying the tire strap to his hip.

"OIIIII!"

It's refreshing to shout like that. He hasn't done it in a long time.

Sawamura jumps, and Eijun watches with amusement as the boy looks around in fear until he sees him. He then smiles as he returns the greeting and walks toward him, dragging the tire with some difficulty.

Eijun notices that his younger self is limping a little.

"OIIIIIIIIIII!"

Is something wrong? Is he hurt?

Eijun does Sawamura a favor and approaches him to save him the distance, leaving them both curiously standing in the middle of field B. Only then, when his younger self gives him a big smile that doesn't match his confused eyes, does Eijun realize that he didn't think this through very well either.

Is Sawamura expecting more than a greeting? A handshake? A hug? No, that would be weird. They haven't known each other for even a day, and even though Eijun is very affectionate, even he wouldn't accept a hug from a stranger.

"Hi," Eijun manages to say just in time before any stuttering comes out, thinking about how to ask about Sawamura’s leg, "I didn't expect to see you so early.”

"I don't usually," Sawamura says energetically before looking embarrassed, "but... I got into trouble on my first day, and I've been running ever since!"

Eijun can remember it. The trust he put in Miyuki only to get betrayed, his ego and confidence to throw the baseball to the other side of the field, only to see how the ball moved weirdly away from its destination.

"Is that so? Did Kataoka punish you?"

“Something like that! Shogun wouldn't let me pitch for a while… and I even apologized and everything!”

Ah, nicknames.

How long has it been since Eijun called Kataoka 'Shogun'?

“You must have done something really bad for him to forbid you from pitching.

"It wasn't my fault! It was all because of that damn Tanuki!" Sawamura grits his teeth as his hands form fists. "Don't trust Miyuki Kazuya! He's a jerk! A very evil senpai!"

Ah, how he would love to do that. But Eijun knows he can't. At least not so openly.

"I'll be a co-coach at Seido, I can't just ignore him."

Sawamura looked at him speechless… for two seconds.

"YOU WILL WHAT?!"

"WHY ARE YOU SURPRISED?!"

Eijun sighs but finally takes the opportunity to ask about Sawamura's leg. Goodbye subtlety.

"Is your leg okay? I noticed you're limping."

Sawamura responds casually but with a sour look on his face, his smile completely fake, contrasting with his tone of voice. "My leg? Kuramochi-senpai and the third-years grabbed me as a practice dummy for fighting techniques. They bent my leg quite a bit yesterday, but it just left an uncomfortable feeling. I'm not hurt or anything."

 Ah, Eijun is partly to blame, right?

Sawamura almost scares him by shaking his head like a dog and then slapping his cheeks.

"So that's why you spent so much time with Shogun and Rei? Is that why you came to Seido?"

There was something in his words, something like doubt. Sawamura even tries not to make eye contact. He looks... disappointed.

Oh. Does he think I'm using him to get something from Seido?

Eijun doesn’t need anything from Seido.

Nothing.

"I spent time with them for that reason, but I came to Seido for you. My original plan wasn't even to... ask for a job here." In fact, Eijun had wanted to avoid everyone like the plague and train his younger self in a... secret way? He didn't want to change anyone's destiny. "Rei-san… just came out of nowhere and decided she wanted to adopt me."

Sawamura looks at him for a few moments and then laughs. Eijun wonders what's so funny when the boy speaks.

"I guess your mom was right. Isn't it interesting that Rei-san recruited us both? It seems like we are bound by fate.”

"What romantic words you have there," he says amusedly; snorting as Sawamura sinks into his shoulders and his face turns red.

Fate, huh?

Fate and the universe seem to be a real force, as if Eijun couldn't explain the conveniences they make so he can watch Seido's games and the not-so-subtle path that led him here, to this moment.

The universe and fate practically screamed in his face that he should go to Seido, regardless of Eijun's opinion on the matter.

But if that happened...

Could fate reunite him with Erick? Or would Eijun have to force the encounter? Even if he was afraid that his Aibou of this world might be different, Eijun was willing to take the risk.

I want to see him.

I want so badly to talk to him again.

But how could I...?

Eijun can't finish that thought when Sawamura calls him. The boy looks more upset, but it seems more like frustration than embarrassment.

"I know we haven't known each other long, but... Should I call you the same as everyone else? Because I—"

"I think it's more up to you than me to decide what you want to call me," Eijun interrupts him, one of his hands resting timidly on his younger self's shoulder. "I wasn't lying yesterday when I said I don't know what this means to me... or what I'm supposed to do. Like you, I'm lost, and the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable or give you reasons to walk away. You're... you're practically the only family I have in this time.”

Sawamura is speechless. His eyes are stunned by his words. Perhaps Eijun exaggerated a little with what he said, and now he has broken his younger self's mind, if his half-open mouth and raised eyebrows tell him anything.

"Although," Eijun clears his throat, avoiding looking at his past self, "Well, that's only if you let me. I don't expect you to call me brother overnight or even want to spend time with me afterwards, it's just that... I want you to know that you can lean on me when you need to. I'll always give you a hand, no matter what."

Maybe the timeline has inevitable events? A canonical event? Like in that Spiderman movie. Eijun would never forgive himself if he let Sawamura suffer yips in this timeline.

His younger self continues to stare with wide eyes and an open mouth. Maybe Eijun did break him.

"I think... it was too much," Eijun murmurs. And before he ends up frying Sawamura's brain, he adds, "I'll leave you now, Sawamura-kun. Don't push yourself too hard or you’ll throw up before breakfast. I speak from experience!"

Trying not to make his farewell awkward, Eijun ruffles his hair and pats him on the shoulders before jogging away—not running, of course not. Running would mean he’s a coward, but he speeds up enough to leave behind a situation that could become uncomfortable and head in the direction of Kataoka's office.

Getting there is easy when he doesn't pay attention to his surroundings or the dormitories; it's a nostalgic path he knows well, and when he has the right door right in front of him, his hand touches it gently to announce his presence.

Kataoka's voice invites him in. Without his sunglasses or cap, he feels more exposed than usual, but Eijun knows he shouldn't think too much about it.

It's just breakfast: coffee, cookies, functional adult stuff.

Erick liked to drink coffee in the mornings. He didn't like it bitter; his cup always had at least three sugar packets to sweeten it or at least neutralize the bitterness, along with a sweet bread he bought at a local bakery.

Miguel, one of his friends and the shortstop of the Yankees, always criticized Erick for that. He said coffee shouldn't be drunk that way.

"Coffee has to be drunk black!"

"Let me guess, Migue," Erick says with a mocking smile as he takes a sip. His red hair is completely untamed this morning when Eijun goes to pick him up at his apartment, and he has small dark circles under his eyes. Eijun wonders what distracted Erick so much that he stayed up all night. "Does it also have to be black like your soul?”

"If you put sugar and cream in it, then you don't like coffee, you like glucose! Sweetness!" His voice becomes exaggerated, poetic in a funny way. "Putting that in hides the delicate nuances of the beans, alters their aroma and their carefully crafted and analyzed flavor..."

"Migue, I'm drinking instant coffee. Not civet coffee."

"Instant coffee has dignity too!"

"That doesn't make sense! Ei also sweetens his coffee, and you don't say anything to him!"

Of course Miguel would say nothing to him! Not after Eijun trapped him eating a bizarre sushi in a godforsaken establishment of fast food.

“Ei doesn't count. He's Gandalf when it comes to food.”

“HAH?! What does even that mean?”

Eijun was trying his best not to spit the coffee in his mouth.

The memory makes him take a deep breath as his stomach aches. The bitterness returns to his mouth to the point where his hand quickly covers his mouth, as if that would prevent Eijun from vomiting.

He has to take a few seconds to push the memory away, to push away the voices and laughter of his teammates and Erick, in order to regain his composure. Eijun has to blink and breathe several times before carefully opening the door.

Eijun enters shyly, perhaps intimidated. He tries to hide it by not looking at the faces of Kataoka, Rei, and Ota, who greet him.

"Good morning, Ei-san. I didn't expect to see you so early," Rei says softly. She’s not wearing formal clothes, but her sports uniform and, most importantly, new glasses. Ota invites Eijun to sit next to him, offering a white cup, which Eijun accepts. "I was expecting to see you later in the afternoon. I thought you had things to do in the morning."

He would have, but Eijun's informal job as an English and Spanish "teacher" allows him to be flexible.

Oh, well. Actually, I still have to teach a kid at ten o’clock...

He’s sure this meeting won't take long. Eijun can still go and get paid for what will surely be his last class.

"Uh... well, I have things to do. It's just... I got nervous and didn't sleep well, so I got up earlier than usual."

"Do you usually get up early?" Ota asks him as he makes coffee for everyone.

"Relatively.”

His training sessions with and before the Yankees already forced Eijun to be a person who got up with the sun. Hell, if Eijun remembers correctly, even at Seido he would get up stupidly early to go running before breakfast.

His job at the mini-mart in Sendai required him to be punctual at seven. The need to eat something other than curry and pay the rent for the internet cafe was greater than his pain from time travel or his overwork there alongside the language app.

Waking up was never a problem, but sleeping was.

When his Aibou died, his friends took turns watching over him at night.

Finding out that he had fainted from the pain of the news was already bad enough. The insomnia he developed in the days that followed was awful.

And then, the time travel; Eijun, locked up in Sendai in a café, in that small cubicle barely bigger than himself. The claustrophobia he felt. The nightmares he had— The frustration of losing everything again when he thought he was finally making progress.

Masamune gave him a break, yet Eijun could count on his fingers the days he was able to fall asleep at a decent hour.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee provides a familiar sense of relief. Erick's name almost slips from his lips as Ota fills his cup. Fortunately, Rei starts talking, so Eijun can remain silent and simply nod to Ota. Eijun focuses on the warmth he feels in his palms as they touch the cup.

Eijun takes a sip. His mouth is filled with bitterness and warmth, which his body appreciates for once.

"You'll see," Erick says as he hands Eijun his cup of cinnamon tea, "coffee is a refined taste. You'll acquire a taste for it over time."

"Are you serious?" Eijun doesn't believe him. His grandfather always insisted that he shouldn't drink it, something about it being a legal drug and stuff like that.

"Well," Erick keeps one hand on his shoulder before patting him on the back, "you can always add a kilo of sugar, like I do!"

"No thanks, Miguel will kill me if I do that. I want to live."

“Migue never scolds you,” Erick says as a pout forms on his lips while his hands dramatically go to her face to fan some air. “I’m jealous. I guess you have a new best friend.”

Eijun just laughs to the point where his stomach hurts.

"Then let's get you up to speed," Rei says in an animated tone, pulling him out of his trance. Eijun watches her take a sip of her coffee before continuing. "I know you're from America, but I assume you know about Koshien and Senbatsu, right?

"I know it very well," he replies more quickly than he would like. Eijun looks at his coffee, the liquid glistening in the office's artificial light, almost enough to see his reflection. "In fact, I saw your Senbatsu game against Ichidai. It was the semifinals, right? You guys lost 13–15, even though you had the momentum from the start."

It may sound indifferent, but it was a horrible game for Eijun. He left the stadium disappointed and depressed for having gone to see a game that wasn't worth watching.

Kataoka, Rei, and Ota remained silent but not uncomfortable.

“It was your criticism of that game that started your bet with the first-string, wasn’t it?” Rei mentioned. "You harass them, and they didn't like it.”

“In my opinion, I was pretty kind with what I said.”

It could have been worse. Eijun could have destroyed Tanba and Miyuki's battery with his words, but he didn't.

It wasn't necessary. Eijun only needed one turn at bat to hurt both.

Eijun hears Rei adjust her glasses. Of what little he can see of her while keeping his gaze on his reflection in the coffee, he notices the careful way she sets her coffee down on the table.

"Which brings us to what we want. Seido is known for its strong lineup. No one in Kyoto doubts our offensive power. You saw firsthand how tough Kominato and Yuuki-kun are. That has been a characteristic of our school for quite some time, but..." Rei adjusts her glasses and lets out a sigh. "Seido needs the most fundamental thing. We need something to complement the excellent defense that Miyuki and Chris-kun lead. Our defeat in the Senbatsu has only made that clear."

The mention of Chris makes his hair stand on end. His hands grip the cup tightly, afraid to let it fall.

The word 'lead' sticks in his mind like a deep echo.

"Someone like me?" That’s what Miyuki said. "You... you haven’t seen him?"

Ah... So that's what he meant...

"As much as it pains us to say it," Kataoka takes the lead in the conversation, "neither Tanba nor Kawakami has what it takes to carry the weight that comes with being the Ace. At least not in the way that Narumiya Mei does."

Narumiya.

That annoying smile. Those proud, arrogant blue eyes. The way he talks to him with confidence— as if Eijun were a long-time friend Narumiya hasn't seen in years.

Eijun remembers the charity match very well. He remembers the surprise and disbelief on Narumiya Mei's and Miyuki Kazuya's faces when they lost to him and Erick in a perfect game that no one in the audience expected.

Yes, he got scolded. But no one will ever take away the satisfaction he felt seeing them lose and proving that his battery is better than the best in Japan.

"Unfortunately," Rei adds, "we haven't been as lucky with the pitchers as Coach Kunitomo is. But we've learned a lot and we want to try a new strategy. It's something that will finally allow us to beat Inashiro and reach Koshien."

Yes, Eijun already knows.

He covers his mouth with one hand, thoughtful. He's trying to remember things from his past, but he's not having much success. He can't quite remember the schools he played against, and even the memories of his disastrous third year are hazy. He can't remember the names of the pitchers who left an impression on him. There was one who threw a knuckleball, wasn’t it? What happened to him?

Lately, he feels like he doesn't remember things very well. He feels like he has become forgetful, even with important things. Eijun hadn't had any problems in that regard since the first few months after his Aibou's death.

Coach Johan and the sports psychologist told him that it was normal considering his situation.

Am I… relapsing? The thought makes him frown.

"We plan to use a new tactic," Kataoka says again, catching Eijun's attention. The cookies that Ota put on the table are running out, and Eijun hasn't taken any. His cup is full and growing cold while the others are empty. “Inashiro is not an individualistic team. All its players have great synergy with each other. But it's no secret that Narumiya Mei is the center of their entire game.”

Eijun's bangs barely cover his eyes. The more the conversation progresses, the worse Eijun feels. His mind starts to wander at things that don't really matter.

Maybe that's why he doesn't think before speaking:

"You plan to make a relief pitching." It's not a question; it's a fact. Eijun forces himself to take a big sip of bitter coffee to silence the pain in his stomach and stop thinking about his Aibou.

Eijun almost finds it funny that Ota has his mouth open and is stammering. It's as if the man is wondering if Eijun can read minds.

"That's right," Rei says, sounding proud. She and Kataoka look at each other; a strange telepathy seems to occur between them from the way Rei smiles. "May I ask how you came to that conclusion?"

"Sometimes I talk to the alumni who come to watch you train," Eijun explains, perhaps answering more quickly than necessary. "They told me about the game between the first-years and the upperclassmen. Sawamura-kun also told me that he's in the second string, and you have Miyuki-kun catching for Furuya. That's no coincidence, right?"

"It's not," Kataoka confirms, crossing his arms, "just as it won't be a surprise to you what we want to ask of you."

Eijun nods slowly, feeling his eyes grow heavy and a slight headache coming on; sleep is overwhelming him despite the coffee, along with an immense urge to yawn, which he suppresses out of respect and sheer willpower.

Eijun takes a deep breath, feeling the cold weight of the medallion on his chest.

He doesn't like that feeling. It disturbs him when the object is cold and lifeless. A slight burning sensation begins in his eyes.

"Do you want me to focus only on the pitchers in the first-string?” Eijun says, “I can be a pitching coach—"

"No," Kataoka interrupted him, his sunglasses seeming to sparkle, "we want you to help us improve the entire Seido."

Eijun almost wants to say something else. Anything. His hands tremble slightly, eager to cling to something.

But no words come out of his mouth, and his mind repeats the phrase "entire Seido" like a tape recorder slowly dragging him back to the past, no matter how hard he fights it.

What can Eijun change at Seido other than perhaps improving them in sports? After all, when Seido hired Ochiai, his welcome was tense and unpleasant for most until the man gradually integrated with Eijun’s and Kanemaru’s help.

Eijun shudders as he remembers. The good slips from his mind, but the bad...

The words, the feelings. Hearing the word "Yips" is as painful as it is frustrating, as are his conflicting feelings about Ochiai, even when, in his third year, he and Ochiai began to get along better. Shogi turned out to be a form of communication between them when words weren’t enough.

What makes him different? Who says Eijun is going to improve Seido and not destroy them like he did in his third year?

But that's why he went back to the past, right? Hadn't he already accepted that changing things was inevitable? No matter what he did.

In the end, he has to keep moving forward.

"I understand," Eijun finally says. His cup is carefully placed on the table as his hands clasp together to ease his nervousness. His thumbs rub together tightly, "Then... I'll do my best."

Chapter 9: Shadows.

Rei is a bit disappointed that their meeting ended so quickly. An hour of talking isn't exactly ‘quick,’ though.

But Ei-san's cell phone rings, and he must attend to his other responsibilities outside of school. Rei is surprised to learn that Ei works as an English and Spanish tutor. She wants to continue befriending him so that he doesn't feel uncomfortable at Seido.

"Ah!" Ei returns to the office. His dark gaze sweeps across the room before he walks toward them. "Before I forget, you guys make tryouts for the team, right?

Both she and Kataoka nod.

"Of course. Second and third-year students always help us with these for the newcomers who want to join," Rei clarifies. "We record their physical condition and the skills they possess."

Eijun looks a little embarrassed, scratching his cheek with his left hand. His eyes tend not to look directly at people, and this occasion is no exception.

Is he that uncomfortable around us? Or is he just someone with poor social skills?

"I was wondering if I could see them," Ei says hesitantly. "I wanted... I wanted to see if I could work with them beforehand. I don't think it's right to be their co-coach without knowing anything about them."

Rei smiles.

It's adorable, in a way.

It would be even more so if Ei didn't look so worn out. Tired. Kataoka had already warned them that Ei wasn't feeling well when he found him running in the morning as if his life depended on it, and that they shouldn't confront him for the time being.

"Maybe it's just a bad day," Kataoka said. “Don't jump to conclusions.”

In the end, the promise they made to Masamune-san to keep an eye on Ei is a strong one.

"Now? Wouldn't you rather read them tomorrow, Ei-san?" Ota is the one who expresses that concern. Rei sees Ei shake his head and shrug his shoulders.

"No, it's fine. I have plenty of free time before I come back here."

It seems that another of Ei's qualities is stubbornness. A quality he also shares with Sawamura, because Ei simply refuses to leave without the children's reports to read at home.

When Ei leaves, Ota breaks the silence.

"I'm worried about the young man. He looked worse than you described, Kataoka-san."

"I agree," Rei continues, "I know Masamune-san told us to watch out for self-destructive behavior, but..."

How do you help someone who doesn't want help? Ei doesn't seem to want to share anything about his personal life; the questions in the "job interview" revealed almost nothing about his life, and Masamune didn't tell them much either because he was in the same situation.

"I don't know what happened to him,” Masamune said with a melancholic tone. “And if Ei-kun doesn't want to talk, I won't force him, but he's a good kid. He's amazing, just give him time to prove it to you,"

Of course, offering him food from the dining hall could help him if he's in a serious financial crisis, and even spending time with him helps to some extent, as the first-years seem to be fascinated by Ei to some degree.

"It's better to give him space," Kataoka tells them calmly. "When he feels safe with us, maybe he'll tell us what's going on, and only then can we help him better."

Right.

Trust cannot be forced.

In the meantime, maybe Rei can think of ways to help him feel welcome here.

Maybe talking about languages will relax him a little more.

For Eijun, relaxing his heart when he sees the Seido training grounds is an odyssey. His Aibou's medallion has been cold since his nightmare in the early morning. Heavy and dead would be the best way to describe it because even Eijun himself doesn't understand it.

He doesn't like it. He feels bad. As if he had committed the audacity of giving the medallion to someone else or, worse still, mistreating it.

But Eijun hasn't parted with the medallion since his Aibou gave it to him that terrible day at the airport. Seeing him walking away, getting smaller and smaller and blending into the crowd until he was out of sight, is an image that won't fade from his memory, no matter how hard he tries.

If only Eijun hadn't been such a coward, if only he hadn't listened to his Aibou about staying in America.

What good did it do him to stay? Feeling lonely and intimidated, just like when he first arrived from Japan. His body and mind were repeating his Seido mistakes when he saw Erick in his new battery partners, thinking about throwing for him and only for him.

Eijun needed a stern talking-to from his Aibou to start correcting his mistake. It wasn't fair to himself or the team.

And just when everything seemed to be going better, when he thought he could continue without being so dependent on his Aibou...

The phone rings, but no one answers. Five rings later, a female voice answers in Spanish, saying that the number is unavailable.

It's May 15, and even before Eijun woke up, Erick had called him in the early morning just to be the first person to say, "Happy birthday!" Las mañanitas are being sung by Erick in Spanish with mariachi music slightly distorted by the speaker of Eijun's cell phone.

Eijun blushed, his face pressed against the pillow, because Erick had always done the same thing on each of his birthdays, without exception. Eijun still remembers that five years ago, Erick insisted on staying overnight at his apartment just to wake him up at five in the morning with a loud bang while a candle with colorful sparks lit up his room.

And of course, Erick had to record him falling out of bed, his sleepy, drooling face as he sang "Happy Birthday" with Erick out of habit, even though he didn't know any Spanish due to the confusion in his brain from being woken up so early.

What had confused him the most was the cake. Because it had an image of a blue skull with fire on its back and a sword. It had a phrase on it, but between his lack of knowledge of Spanish and his morning stupidity, he didn't think much of it until much later, when that skull would always be painted on his cakes.

That's why it doesn't make sense that Erick isn't answering. Not when Eijun asked for the day off, swearing to his friends on the Yankees that he would celebrate with them tomorrow without fail because Erick wanted to tell him something important today.

They just laughed slyly and looked at each other with eyes that radiated mockery, as if they knew something that Eijun didn't, only to end up patting him on the back and saying, "It's about time."

Maybe he shouldn't call anymore. It might upset Erick when he checks his cell phone and discovers 20 calls from Eijun.

But his thumb kept tapping on Erick's photo. A selfie of the two of them with their cheeks pressed together, smiling as they made peace signs with their hands and pulled funny faces.

"Answer me..." Eijun murmurs as she listens to the ringtones, "Come on..."

But no one answers. Eijun calls maybe ten more times without success until he decides to take a break.

"Maybe he's busy, maybe he has more things to do at the club where he teaches," Eijun thinks.

He spends the rest of the day alone. Locked in his apartment, lying on the sofa, sitting in the dining room, sprawled on his bed— his phone never leaves his hands.

At some point, he even feels angry. Erick had promised something, and now he's not keeping his word?

He wants to send him a text message to scold him when his cell phone rings. The personalized ringtone fills him with hope, and he even lets the music play for a few seconds to punish Erick for taking so long.

His happiness vanishes as soon as he answers. It's not Erick's voice that greets him.

It's his sister.

And she speaks to him hysterically. Her voice is broken, full of pain. She sobs so loudly that Eijun has to move his cell phone away from his ear a little when she screams his name and speaks so fast that, for a moment, Eijun doesn't understand her.

"Eijun!" The sound is distorted, but that doesn't make the tone any less painful. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"

It's Spanish. But now Eijun is an expert after spend so much time with his best teacher and worst hater of the language. Erick was proud when he understood complete phrases.

What is she doing with Erick's phone? He knows Erick likes to joke around with him a lot, but this doesn't feel funny.

"Karla... are you... Are you okay? Why are you crying?" Eijun responds uncertainly, cold sweat sliding down his forehead. "Is this a joke from him? It's not funny. Not at all."

The line is almost silent. Eijun can hear muffled sobs on the other end.

Karla doesn't respond for a while. Eijun doesn't know what to do.

"It's not... this isn't funny," he says nervously again, a strange feeling in his chest similar to fear growing, growing so much that, for a moment, Eijun thinks it's going to devour his heart. "Tell Erick that this is the worst joke he's played on me in years…"

He said something wrong, because she started crying again. Even if the sobs are muffled.

And Eijun doesn't expect her words. Because what comes out on the other end of the phone is like a direct blow to his face.

"He's dead," she says. "HE'S DEAD!"

And Eijun stops breathing.

The world seems to shake around him to the point where he has to lean against the huge green net to keep his balance. The children's noises fade as Eijun closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see.

But no matter how hard he tries, he knows very well that the physical is different from the mental. No matter how much he doesn't want to see it, the memories, the funeral, and his heart breaking into a thousand pieces keep showing up over and over again.

The bitter taste in his mouth returns. Eijun can barely remember how to take deep breaths to keep the onigiri he bought at 7-Eleven from coming back up. He tries to count to ten, to focus again on the noises around him so that his mind doesn't return to the memories or linger there.

The medallion remains motionless. Cold.

He hates it.

And yet, he grips it so tightly with his left hand, as if the object were his bleeding heart, hoping to transfer some of his own warmth to it.

Eijun breathes and counts many times. As many times as necessary to calm down and focus. His Yankees cap is on the ground, as are his sunglasses, but he can't find the strength to bend down and pick them up. If he does, he might end up collapsing, if the trembling in his legs is any indication.

That's why hearing footsteps behind him and seeing a familiar hand pick up his things from the ground not only increases his nausea but also makes him freeze in place. His eyes burn.

Because no matter how long it's been since he's interacted with Chris, since he's seen him, Eijun has always had a sixth sense for knowing where he is. The sound of his calm, lighter-than-he-remembers gait makes his skin crawl.

No... I didn't want us to meet at this...

"Excuse me..." Eijun is not prepared to hear Chris's voice. If his legs are still supporting his weight, it is because of the effort he puts into his hands to hold on to the green net while keeping his eyes on the ground until he is sure enough that he will not fall.

Eijun lets go of the net and, with all his willpower, dares to look at his Shisho.

"Are you all right, sir?" The younger Chris hands him his cap and glasses. His navy-blue uniform and white pants. His hair was neatly combed.

And her eyes. His eyes are just as he remembers them. A vivid hazel color, warm and trustworthy. A gaze that, for many years, meant... no. It is synonymous of security. Of unconditional support, wisdom, and loyalty.

But...

Something isn't right.

His mind tries to figure out what it is. It's an uncomfortable feeling, like when he met Yui-shonen and Masamune. That something is different.

Eijun should know that when it comes to Chris, his brain becomes stupid, more than it already is. He doesn't know if it's because of everything that happened in the morning or if it was the last memory his brain decided to relive that makes him see his Chris. His Shisho didn't change much after graduating, beyond a shorter haircut.

Is it a hallucination? He wants so badly to jump into his Shisho's arms. To scream his name, open his heart, and tell him how much he misses him. That he feels so alone, lost. Confused since his Aibou died. That he tried to move on, and all he got in return was divine punishment he never asked for.

Maybe that's why his mouth betrays him.

"Chris...?"

The look of confusion on his Shisho's face hurts his heart.

"Do we know each other?"

And his words break him completely. The illusion is gone, in the blink of an eye, and he is no longer the 27-year-old man who plays for the Cardinals. This is not his Chris.

He probably never will be.

Eijun grabs his things. Almost as if contact with the younger Chris will burn him, but he knows he must pull himself together. He can't show weakness.

Eijun thinks about the mound, imagines Chris is the batter at bat, and in his fingers is the ball, ready to be thrown. On the mound, he takes a deep breath, puts on his mask, and Erick waits for his pitch.

"No, not quite," he can barely respond. He's lucky his voice doesn't break, but he still has to make up for his mistake. "In America, your father is Jorge 'Animal,' right? It's hard to forget you when Animal mentioned you so much.”

Once he puts on his glasses and cap, he dares to shake his hand.

Takigawa immediately returns the gesture with a firm handshake. Part of Eijun feels happy to finally have a normal interaction, even though he can't enjoy it as much as he would like.

"So, are you friends with my father?"

“Well... not exactly. The truth is, we were just acquaintances. I was a rookie, but Animal left a lasting impression on me. It's hard to forget someone like him.”

“I see. The world is very small then.”

Too small.

The increasing noise around him, along with more alumni coming to watch practice, reminds him of his responsibility today.

Eijun blinks and carefully let go of Takigawa's hand. He doesn't want to seem desperate to escape, so he can breathe in peace and fix his brain, which isn't working today. But Takigawa seems to have other plans.

"So, you're Ei-san," Takigawa says with a smile, his eyes shining strangely. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. The first-string has told me a lot about you."

"Good things, I hope."

"It seems they have some kind of personal vendetta against you. They're asking me very insistently to join their revenge."

"I can imagine. They're not very subtle about it," Eijun replies with resignation, avoiding his gaze, "but I don't think I want a rematch anytime soon."

Takigawa chuckles softly as he shakes his head. For Eijun, even if his mind tells him something doesn't add up, seeing him like this is exactly how he remembers him from his days at Seido, in the MiLB, in the MLB— it's refreshing. It's as if his entire body has finally let go of the state of alertness he's been carrying since the time travel began and simply... relaxed.

Because Chris is here, right beside me.

There's nothing strange, no weird personality that doesn't fit, no fulfillment of his fear that Chris's injury was more serious. His Shisho looks fine. Perfect.

So... what's wrong?

Although, since his mind isn't at its best today, he's not surprised that he can't identify it for now.

"How about we walk together?" Takigawa says as he takes out his cell phone to check the time. "Something tells me we're going to the same place."

Eijun just nods. During the course of their conversation, the dizziness he felt subsided enough for him to walk without risk of falling.

There is no awkward silence. Eijun entertains himself by watching the boys start to take gloves, balls, and bats out of the storage rooms. He sees the first-years lining up in one corner of field B, warming up to start running, while the third-years threaten to turn them into maids for the next three weeks if they tire prematurely.

Among them, Haruichi's pink hair stands out painfully.

"I heard from my teammates that you're a catcher, but they're confused that you're also a pitcher," Takigawa says softly as they both cross over to Field A to head to the dorms. Some boys passing by stare at Eijun before greeting Chris. Normally, Eijun wouldn't have cared, but with how sensitive he's been today...

Brats. Did I really hurt their egos that badly? Are they still not over it?

Well, if the first-string doesn't do it, what does Eijun expect from the others?

"Oh, you know that too?"

"Our captain explained a little of what you taught Sawamura to me. I appreciate you teaching him. I know I haven't been there for him for several weeks, and I'm sure he's mad at me.”

Frustrated is the word Eijun would use. His younger self was left wanting to keep pitching that day. Eijun wouldn't be surprised if Sawamura came looking for him later.

And speaking of that...

"Why were you absent? If you don't mind me asking," he says as they climb the stairs. Kataoka's office is on the opposite side of Takigawa's room and the other third-year boys. A tingling sensation spreads through his hands, and the feeling that something is wrong returns, but this time, Eijun almost has it on the tip of his tongue. "You'll find out today, but I am... I will be his co-coach, and... I'm embarrassed that I've barely seen you today."

The boy (God, just as it's weird to talk about himself in the third person to his younger self, it's unnatural to think of Chris as someone younger than Eijun) smiles at him.

"I see, I don't mind answering. It's something everyone knows, co-coach," Takigawa replies calmly as he rummages through his backpack for something: his cell phone. Takigawa opens the device and types, filled with nostalgia for Eijun, who sees a flip phone compared to his more ‘futuristic’ one. "In my first year, I had a shoulder injury. The truth is, it's mostly my fault," Takigawa admits with some embarrassment in his voice, "if it weren't for a kohai, my baseball career would have ended there.”

Eijun wants to hit himself with a bat. No, rather, he wants the same ball that sent him into the past to hit him in the face again for forgetting something so important.

How could Eijun forget Chris's dead eyes? How could he forget how hard his Shisho worked for his physical rehabilitation? How could he forget when Miyuki himself had gotten angry with him when he spoke ill of Chris without knowing him?

Eijun opens his mouth, trying to get the words out because while part of him is happy that Chris isn't suffering, another part feels that it's not fair.

"And you... Are you okay now?"

His Chris hadn't finished his rehabilitation until his senior year, almost at the same time he graduated. But if Takigawa's bright eyes tell him anything, it's that his accident or the way he dealt with it was different.

Enough to prevent his Shisho from falling into that horrible pit that Eijun is in right now.

Takigawa finishes sending whatever he wrote on his cell phone before answering.

"Since my kohai discovered my injury in time, my healing and rehabilitation only took half a year. Although since my father worries about me a lot, he didn't allow me to participate in the Senbatsu until at least three doctors gave the go-ahead. I just came back from visiting them."

Takigawa says this humorously, as if it were a fond memory.

For Eijun, the difference between what this Chris and his own Chris went through is enormous.

Half a year. This Chris was lucky that his injury wasn't that serious. Whereas his had to stop playing for a whole year, depressed and bitter— with most people talking behind his back.

Eijun understands this very well.

"I'm glad you've made a full recovery." His words are sincere because even if it's not his Chris, he would never want to see him hurt again, to see those dead eyes again. “Seeing young people suffering injuries like that... It's always discouraging.”

Takigawa smiles at him.

"Thanks. But to be honest, I might not have been so strong if it weren't for my father and my friends. Many of the first-string couldn't believe it at first, even Miyuki had a bad time with all of them because of me, but I'll talk to them about it when I have time."

Eijun remembers Senbatsu, the Seido game he went to see with Yui. The atmosphere between Miyuki and Tanba felt and looked worse than he remembered.

Could it be that...?

"Oh. I think we'll have to talk later, Coach Ei. We'll both be late."

Eijun ignores the chill that runs down his spine at being addressed formally by Chris. It just doesn't feel right, it's like upsetting the natural order! Whereas with Miyuki and Tanba it felt good to have power over them and corner them, with Takigawa, it's just unacceptable.

God, that makes me an even worse person.

"Yeah, we'll have other days to talk," Eijun says as if he could return to a place that no longer belongs to him. In fact, with this change of events, will his younger self even be able to relate to this Chris in the same way that Eijun did with his?

A world where Chris is not his beloved mentor. Where he can't tell him his doubts and ask for advice is simply...

Unthinkable.

The fact that Takigawa turns away without a second glance, that he addresses him so formally, and that he now sees him as a figure of authority and not as Sawamura Eijun, who used to follow him around like a lost puppy, is painful.

Eijun watches him walk away. His left hand reaches out toward Chris, wanting to touch him.

Takigawa goes into his bedroom without looking back.

Eijun should probably do the same.

At least, his heart wouldn't hurt so much.

His Aibou's medallion remains as inert as ever, and Eijun lets out a sigh as he turns and walks toward Kataoka's office. He doesn't even need to knock; Rei opens the door and smiles kindly as she informs him that he has arrived on time.

Eijun almost wants to tell him that he doesn't feel well. That he wants to leave.

All the calm that Chris was able to give him with his mere presence and a talk was gone with the realization that, once again, Eijun is alone.

Instead, Eijun just gave her a tired smile.