(Eijun's POV)
I hear Jack's alarm go off in my head at 6:30.
*Jack, I don't know what practice is going to be like, so can I just do a 5km run today instead of the daily tasks?* I ask silently.
"Yes, that's alright, Eijun. I'll give you a week to get used to it," Jack's calm voice replies.
*Thanks, Jack.*
I quietly climb down from my bunk, head to the shared bathroom, splash cold water on my face, and brush my teeth. My reflection looks a little dazed — probably nerves — so I mess my hair up like usual and head back to the dorm room to change into my practice uniform.
The morning air is crisp as I step onto Practice Field A. I stretch my legs and start running, letting my breath and footsteps fall into rhythm.
*Jack, what are the chances the same things happen again?*
"What do you mean, Eijun?"
*You know what I mean. Being left out, ignored... everyone saying Furuya's better. Him being favoured over me.*
I slow to a jog as I finish the 5km. My chest tightens, not from the run, but the memory.
"It shouldn't happen this time. You're far ahead of Furuya, Eijun. As long as you follow the rules and train hard, you'll be fine," Jack reassures.
I sit down, hugging my knees as I catch my breath.
*Jack… can you tell me something about someone else's past? I think I figured something out in my last life— was Miyuki bullied too?* I ask quietly.
Jack hesitates. "I'm not supposed to say, but since you realized it yourself, I'll make an exception. Yes. He was bullied in middle school and junior high — for being smarter and correcting upperclassmen."
I freeze. My throat tightens as tears sting my eyes.
*I knew it… I could tell by how he acts. But for the same reason as me?*
My breathing starts to shake. Tears fall before I even notice, and suddenly a hand lands gently on my shoulder, making me flinch. I look up — it's Boss.
"Morning, Boss," I say, voice small.
"Want to tell me what's wrong, Sawamura?" His voice is steady, soft.
"I just… realized something," I whisper, tears still trailing down my cheeks.
"What was that, Sawamura?"
I take a shaky breath. "You know about my past, right? The bullying?"
He nods.
"Well… I realized someone I feel closest to here has the same past. Probably for the same reason."
"How did you realize that?" Boss asks, brow furrowed.
I let out a small, tired laugh and wipe my face. "The way he acts, talks, his personality. He's like me. And people don't like people like us much."
He sighs softly and ruffles my hair. "Sawamura, try talking to him."
I nod.
As the rest of the first string starts arriving, I stand.
"Oi, Sawamura! How're you here before your senpais?" Mochi-senpai teases.
"Morning run, Senpai," I reply with a small smile, walking over toward him and Miyuki.
"Our little Sa-wa-mu-ra on a morning run, huh?" Miyuki smirks, and I glare.
"Yes, Miyuki Kazuya. I always do morning training — but today I just ran since it's my first day with the first string," I answer.
"Hm." Miyuki hums, nodding.
Boss's voice cuts through the chatter. "Pitchers and catchers, bullpen. Tanba with Miyauchi, Nori with Ono, Miyuki with Sawamura. Infield—fielding. Outfield—batting. Switch after an hour."
Everyone answers with a crisp "Yes, sir," though mine comes out softer. "Yes, Boss."
"Dismissed. Miyuki, Sawamura — come here."
We approach him.
"Yes, Coach," Miyuki says.
"Yes, Boss," I echo.
"Inside training facilities. We don't want scouts seeing Sawamura yet. Whenever he's pitching, it'll be indoors."
We both nod.
Inside, I help Miyuki put on his gear before stepping onto the mound.
The sound of the ball hitting Miyuki's mitt rings clear through the quiet field — that crisp, perfect
*Bang*
that echoes a little longer in the cool air. We've been throwing for a while, rhythm steady.
But watching him — the calm mask, that smirk he wears like armor — I can't help but feel it. That same kind of loneliness I used to hide behind laughter.
People like us, we learn early how to play roles.
I grip the ball, thumb brushing the seam. "…Hey, Miyuki — can I ask you something personal?"
The fastball cuts inside, low and clean at 140.
He catches it, smooth as ever. "Sure. What is it?"
He tosses it back, expression unreadable, though I see the faint curiosity in his eyes.
I pitch the ball again. "Miyuki — what's your IQ?"
He blinks, almost thrown. "What kind of question is that? Uh… 150. Why?"
I grin faintly. "Mine's 155."
The change-up cuts tight, just brushing the inside corner.
"…Did you ever get bullied?"
He stills, the smallest pause in the air. "…Why?"
I stare down at the ball, turning it in my palm. "I just… recognized it. The way you carry yourself. The quiet distance. Smart kids — blunt kids — people don't like them much. Makes them feel small." I exhale, throwing again — a fast change-up that dips right before his glove. "They hate it when you don't fit their rhythm."
Miyuki's glove lowers slightly. His smile's there, but softer. "Yeah," he says quietly. "They do."
I shrug, trying to sound casual. "Figured."
He tosses the ball back. "And you, You got bullied too, didn't you?"
"yeah so I started to act dumb in middle school," I say simply. "Easier that way. No one bullies the fool."
He studies me for a long moment, then chuckles low. "That must've been hard, keeping it up."
"Not really. Got me through middle school and junior high and now high school," I grin, though it doesn't reach my eyes. "You though—you didn't hide. You fought back with that mouth of yours."
He huffs a quiet laugh. "What can I say? I'm a fast learner. If I couldn't beat them, I made them too nervous to try again." His voice dips. "After a while, I stopped expecting anyone to look past it."
I meet his eyes. "You wear it well. But I see it."
He looks at me for a beat, then sighs. "…You're annoyingly perceptive sometimes, you know that?"
"I've been told," I say, smirking.
He rolls his eyes. "Of course you'd be proud of that."
I toss the ball up and catch it again. "Guess we both learned how to survive it."
Miyuki nods. "Guess so."
A pause. The air feels heavy again — too still. So I grin, because that's what I do when things get too real.
"…So basically, you're saying I'm smarter and prettier."
He snorts. "Pretty sure you're confusing yourself with me."
"Hey!" I feign offense. "I'll have you know this face is at least top-three material!"
"Yeah, top three clowns maybe," Miyuki mutters, lips twitching.
"Rude! I'll remember that when I'm Ace and the reporters ask who my least supportive senpai was!"
"Then I'll tell them I built you from scratch," he fires back instantly.
I freeze mid-windup, mock-gasping. "YOU WHAT—"
He laughs — an actual laugh, loud and unrestrained — and suddenly the tension in the air breaks, the world slipping back into rhythm.
I grin, throwing another pitch, this one lighter, easy. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Right back at you," he says, catching it one-handed like it's nothing.
I wind up again. "Fastball, 150."
He nods. The ball hits his glove with a satisfying pop.
"Good. Your arm's sharp today — heavy ball, good control," he says.
"It's like that most of the time," I reply. "I could probably throw faster with my left, but I want stability over speed. My training schedule keeps it balanced."
"Can I see your training regimen?" he asks, throwing the ball back.
"Yeah. After dinner okay? It's in my baseball journal."
"Sure. Where?"
"My room — number 5. Mochi-senpai's practicing late with Kominato-senpai, and Masuko-senpai's probably batting."
"Alright." He grins behind his mask. "Breakfast time."
I help him take off his gear, and we head to the cafeteria. I sit beside Harucchi and Furuya; Miyuki joins the upperclassmen.
"Morning, Harucchi." I grin, then glance at Furuya. "You're Furuya, right? Pitcher?"
He nods sleepily, head resting on the table.
"Nice to meet you."
"So, Harucchi, how was practice?" I ask.
"I got to field a bit, but mostly we ran. What about you, Eijun-kun? How was it with the first string?"
"First string?" Furuya looks up, blinking.
*Here it comes.*
I grin. "Yeah, Furuya. I'm on the first string." Then, to Harucchi, "I pitched this morning, so I'll probably do fielding and batting next."
"Pitching?" Furuya mutters, aura flaring.
"Furuya, calm down!" I half-yell. The aura disappears. I sigh. "Yeah, with Miyuki."
It flares again. "Harucchi, help!"
Then—an arm slings around my neck. "Yo, Sa-wa-mu-ra~ What're you doing?" Miyuki drawls, smirking.
"Oi, Miyuki Kazuya! You tanuki, get your arm off me!" I yell. He just laughs.
He pats my left shoulder. "We worked on this this morning." Then my right. "But not this."
"Use my name, Miyuki Kazuya," I glare. "And yeah, you're right. After dinner, after we go over that thing."
He nods and walks off.
"Eijun-kun… what did Miyuki-senpai mean when he was patting your shoulders?" Harucchi asks.
I sigh. "I can pitch with both arms. We just forgot my right this morning."
The entire cafeteria goes dead silent. Forks and spoons clatter against plates.
I rub the back of my head. "Guess everyone heard that, huh?" I laugh awkwardly — until Boss walks in.
"Finish breakfast quickly," he says, then leaves.
I shovel down my third bowl, grin at Harucchi. "Take your time," then return my tray and jog back to the field.
We move through fielding — I get 20/20 on grounders like Tanba and Nori — then batting. The machine's at 140; I send balls flying to every corner, a few clearing the fence. The first string stares, but I just grin and cheer everyone else on.
After lunch comes individual practice. I retreat to my room, pull up a Koshien game, and jot observations into my baseball journal.
*Runner's about to steal… pitcher's not checking… catcher's tense — late throw. Pitcher should bait the steal first.*
There's a knock. "Come in."
Miyuki steps inside.
"Yo," I grin, flipping open my journal. "Here — this is what I used before Seidō. Plan is to go back to it next week once I'm used to practice."
He leans over the notebook.
(Miyuki's POV)
He slides the notebook toward me, pages filled with neat, structured handwriting.
-----
Day one:
Morning:
5 kilometer run
50 push-ups
50 burpees
50 10-meter sprints pulling a tire
50 pull-ups
one hour of ballet
one hour of yoga
Afternoon:
15 pitches, then 4 10-meter sprints, repeat until 150 pitches thrown (5-10 minute breaks between every fifteen throws)
100 bat swings
2 kilometer run.
after dinner:
Training Regimine
Day Two
Morning:
5 kilometer run
50 push-ups
50 burpees
50 10-meter sprints pulling a tire
50 pull-ups
one hour of ballet
one hour of yoga
Afternoon:
200 bat swings against pitching machine
Fielding practice with pitching machine for 100 catches
25 shadow pitches left arm
75 shadow pitches right arm
Two kilometer run.
after dinner:
Training regimine
-----
I raise an eyebrow. "And the regimen?"
He flips the page.
-----
Regime One:
Barbell squat, dumbbell squat, or sled hack squat: 20
Dumbbell incline bench press: 20
Romanian deadlift: 20
Dumbbell biceps curl: 20
Dumbbell triceps extension or machine pushdown: 20
Seated cable row: 20
Lat pulldown to the front with a wide grip: 20
Reverse crunch: 20
Pull-ups: 20
Regime Two:
Barbell or dumbbell hang clean: 20
Cable wood chop: 20
Cable push-pull: 20
One-arm cable raises (each arm): 20
Medicine ball or dumbbell push press: 20
Medicine ball standing twist with a partner: 20
Box jump march: 20
Vertical jump: 20
Sprints: 20
3 sets each.
-----
I nod, impressed. "It's good. Your old coach gave you the right program for your body."
He suddenly bursts out laughing.
"What's so funny, Sawamura?" I glare.
"I've never had a coach before Boss, Miyuki."
I blink, then nod slowly. "…Right. That explains a lot."
"So what were you doing before I came in?"
"Oh, this." He grins, flipping to a game analysis page.
-----
Runner on first, getting ready to steal, catcher and pitcher not looking, steal sucssesful, catchers throw not fast because catcher tense.
Pitcher should pick off making smaller lead, then pretend to forget the runner and pitch then when runner steals, catcher throw, trap
-----
He plays the clip on his phone. I nod. "You've got a good eye. You could try this too—"
We spend the next while analyzing plays together.
(Eijun's POV)
By the time Mochi-senpai and Masuko-senpai return, Miyuki's gone. I take a quick bath in the bath house, change into my pajamas, and climb into bed.
*Jack. Stats.*
---------------
STATS MENU
Attribute Points: 20
Stamina: A (58/100)
Speed: B- (50/100)
Agility: B- (70/100)
Strength: B- (36/100)
Flexibility: A (56/100)
Control: A (51/100)
Batting: c+ (99/100)
Bunting: A (58/100)
Fielding: C+ (98/100)
Base Running: B- (57/100)
Mentality: A+ (78/100)
Baseball IQ: A+ (76/100)
Non-Dominant Arm: C+ (89/100)
Skills: 29 (tap for more info)
---------------
*Jack, allocate 10 points to Batting and 10 to Fielding.*
---------------
STATS MENU
Attribute Points: 20
Stamina: A (58/100)
Speed: B- (50/100)
Agility: B- (70/100)
Strength: B- (36/100)
Flexibility: A (56/100)
Control: A (51/100)
Batting: B- (9/100) +10
Bunting: A (58/100)
Fielding: B- (8/100) + 10
Base Running: B- (57/100)
Mentality: A+ (78/100)
Baseball IQ: A+ (76/100)
Non-Dominant Arm: C+ (89/100)
Skills: 29 (tap for more info)
---------------
I smile, satisfied. *Nice.*
Then, finally, I drift off to sleep.