Sawamura Eijun's POV – Age 8
There was something about standing on the mound that made my heart beat faster.
The way the sun hit the dirt. The smell of the leather ball in my hand. The weight of the moment, even if it was just me, a chalked-up strike zone on a brick wall, and nobody else around.
This was where I belonged.
Right here on the mound.
"Baseball's amazing," I whispered to myself, winding up again. "When I pitch, it feels like the whole world is mine."
Ever since I was five, I loved this feeling. I used to throw rocks into the river behind our house before I even understood the game. But that all changed when I met Uncle Kazuki or as the world used to know him: Kazuki Sawamura, former MLB relief pitcher.
Most people in our sleepy little Nagano town didn't know much about him. He was always smiling, quiet and humble. But behind that laid-back attitude was a man who had struck out some of the biggest hitters in the world.
When I was six, he handed me my first real baseball. "You've got a wild arm, Eijun," he said with a grin. "Let's see what you can do with it."
Since then, every weekend, he'd come by to teach me something new. Grip, control, rhythm. He taught me to pitch, not like a kid but like a professional.
So here I was, just another afternoon, throwing pitch after pitch at a chalk box on the side of an old storage shed. My aim? Decent. My speed? Getting better.
But what I really needed… was a catcher.
Souta Fushimi's POV – Age 8
It was a quiet spring afternoon when I stumbled across the sound of a ball slamming into a wall.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
I followed the sound past the row of cherry trees near the school's storage building.
That's when I saw him.
A kid with wild brown hair, throwing pitch after pitch at a painted strike zone on the wall, grinning with each release.
His mechanics were… raw. But there was something electric in his motion. Like the ball came alive in his hand.
I stood there watching until he noticed me.
He turned, blinking. "Oh! Uh, hi! Sorry, am I in your way?"
I shook my head. "Not at all. I was just watching. You're pitching really well."
His grin widened. "Thanks! I'm Sawamura Eijun!"
Sawamura... Eijun? This Sawamura Eijun?!
My heart skipped.
That name.
That face.
That motion.
I suddenly understood. I had been reborn in the world of Ace of Diamond.
Eijun looked at me curiously. "You okay?"
I smiled. "Yeah… just surprised, I guess. I'm Fushimi Souta."
We stared at each other for a second. Maybe it was fate. Or just instinct.
I pointed to his glove. "Mind if I catch for you?"
Eijun's eyes lit up like fireworks. "Seriously?! Heck yeah!!"
We set up without another word. I crouched, fingers flexing around the glove my dad gave me last week. Eijun wound up.
The moment the ball hit my mitt with a clean 'thwap', I knew.
This was it.
The beginning of something great.
We kept throwing. I called for pitches with little nods and gestures. He adjusted. Improved. Laughed every time he got it right.
And I… I felt alive again.
So alive.
We were so engrossed we forgot about anything else. Forgot the time. Forgot the whole world, we didn't even notice when it started to get darker.
"SOUTA!"
I jumped, nearly missing the last pitch.
Turning around, I saw a familiar tall figure approaching: it was my father, Riku Fushimi, sunglasses perched on his head, arms crossed but smiling.
On the other side, another voice called out: "EIJUN! You missed dinner again!"
Eijun froze. "Ah! Uncle Kazuki! Uh… I can explain!"
The two adults noticed each other.
Their eyes locked.
Then…
"Riku?!"
"Kazuki?!"
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then the two former pros burst out laughing and hugged like long-lost brothers.
Me and Eijun looked at each other, completely confused.
"You… know each other?" I asked.
Kazuki scratched the back of his head. "You could say that."
Riku grinned. "We played together in high school. Faced off in the Koshien semis. Then ran into each other again in the States."
"As teammates and rivals" Kazuki added. "He was one hell of a catcher."
"And he," Riku said proudly, ruffling Eijun's hair, "was one nasty southpaw."
Eijun's mouth dropped. "Mister you played in the majors?!"
Kazuki smirked. "What, you thought you were the first Sawamura to strike out a Yankee?"
I couldn't help but smile.
It felt surreal. Like all the pieces of some grand puzzle were falling into place.
Me.
Eijun.
Two former MLB players as our mentors.
And a shared love for the game.
This was no coincidence.
This was fate.