Rural Chiba Prefecture smelled like early spring — damp earth, blooming plum trees, and the faint, familiar thump of a baseball hitting leather.
Aoi Aikawa inhaled deeply, rolling his left shoulder as he jogged toward the rundown dirt field behind Midoriyama Middle School. His brown curls bounced with every step, messy and unrestrained, matching the restless spark in his bright eyes.
He hated being still.
His body didn't allow it — it wanted to move, twist, stretch, do something.
And honestly?
He liked it that way.
"Aoi! You're late again!" shouted Masa, his catcher and childhood friend.
Aoi skidded to a stop. "I'm not late. I'm heroically delayed."
"You live three houses away."
Aoi held up his glove with a grin. "Then I ran really slowly?"
Masa sighed, already resigned. "Just warm up."
Aoi stepped onto the cracked mound — more a raised patch of dirt than anything official — and bounced lightly on his feet. His body folded and unfolded naturally, joints loose and fluid, as if every muscle was made of rubber.
Left foot forward.
Hands come together.
Exhale.
He didn't throw hard yet.
Didn't have perfect control.
Didn't have a breaking ball that actually broke.
But what he did have — the one thing that always shocked people — was the movement.
Aoi flicked his wrist and fired.
FWUMP—
The ball swerved mid-air, tailing arm-side at the last second.
Masa barely caught it. "That thing moved like a wild pigeon!"
Aoi beamed. "So it's improving!"
"That's not— Aoi, that's not a compliment!"
He threw another.
And another.
Every pitch wobbled unpredictably, wriggling like it had a mind of its own.
Aoi didn't know why.
His coaches didn't know why.
But they all agreed on one thing:
His arm was weird.
And interesting.
-------------------
Practice wrapped up as the sun dipped low behind the rice fields, glowing orange. Masa packed away the battered baseballs while Aoi balanced a ball on his fingertips like a soccer trick.
"You're doing it again," Masa muttered.
"What?"
"Football stuff. You can't show that at tryouts. You'll get yelled at again."
Aoi caught the ball and shrugged. "I'm not showing off. My body just… wants to move."
"And you want to go pro in baseball. Remember that."
"I know." Aoi's voice softened. "I really do."
He looked down at his left hand.
His pitching hand.
He wasn't good enough yet.
Not in speed.
Not in control.
Not in strength.
But the movement — that strange, unpredictable dance — felt like a promise.
-----------------------
The next day, everything changed.
Aoi arrived at school expecting another normal morning — baseball after class, helping the soccer team during lunch, teachers scolding him for sprinting in the hall — the usual routine.
Instead, the vice principal stood waiting with a tall, sharp-eyed man in a suit.
"Aoi Aikawa?" the man asked.
Aoi blinked. "Uh. Yes. Did I… do something?"
The man's eyes dropped to Aoi's left hand again, as though searching for something invisible.
Then he spoke with the calm authority of someone used to making big decisions.
"My name is Takeda. I'm a scout from Kose High School."
Masa choked behind him.
*Kose?*
The school with a famous baseball program that hadn't reached Koshien in years but still produced strong athletes?
The school Aoi had secretly dreamed about?
Takeda continued,
"We've been looking into promising young pitchers in the region. Your coach sent footage."
He paused. "Your arm is… unusual. We'd like you to attend our school."
Aoi's breath froze.
Pitcher.
High school baseball.
A real team.
A real chance.
He didn't speak.
He couldn't.
So Masa elbowed him in the ribs. "Say something, idiot!"
Aoi jolted. "Y-YES! I MEAN— I WOULD BE HONORED!"
Takeda cracked a tiny smile.
"Good. I look forward to seeing what that strange left arm of yours can do."
Aoi stood frozen long after the scout walked away.
His heart thundered.
His legs shook.
This wasn't a dream.
It couldn't be.
Masa nudged him gently. "Aoi… you're shaking."
Aoi swallowed hard.
"Masa… If I go there… I might actually—"
His voice cracked.
"I might actually become a real pitcher."
And for the first time, he truly believed it.