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A Pitcher's Second Chance

Kapitel 1: Chapter 1: A Second Chance on the Diamond

Darkness. Thick, suffocating darkness. It was the last thing Goro Honda remembered, as if the life he'd known had simply faded to black. In that blackness, time slipped away, leaving nothing but a hollow void that swallowed every sensation. But, just when he thought he might disappear forever, something began to tug at him, pulling him back to the surface.

"…up. Eijun, wake up!"

Goro's eyes shot open, his chest tightening as he dragged air into his lungs. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—plain white with faint stains, the kind that looked like they'd been there for years. He sat up abruptly, feeling an odd ache throughout his body, like he'd run laps and pushed himself too hard the day before.

Wasn't he supposed to be—where had he been?

"Eijun! Are you listening?"

A sharp voice broke through his daze, and Goro turned to see a young girl standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, staring at him like he'd done something ridiculous. She seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't place her. Her wide, concerned eyes, the tilt of her head—it was like she knew him, and yet…no one had looked at him like that in years.

"Who… who are you?" Goro managed to ask, the words strange on his tongue.

The girl frowned, moving to his bedside with a quick swipe at his forehead. "Don't be ridiculous, Eijun! You don't have time to mess around! It's your first day at Seidou High, and you're going to be late!"

Seidou High. The words resonated like a half-remembered tune. Baseball, the pounding energy of competition, the thrill of a tightly contested game… fragments flickered through his mind. As if on instinct, he swung his legs out of bed, feeling his heartbeat pick up at the mere thought of stepping onto a baseball field.

And then he saw it—a flash of his reflection in the small mirror by the wall. But instead of Goro Honda, a boy with slightly tousled black hair and wide, eager eyes stared back at him. He looked… young. Younger than he remembered feeling in a long time. This face was somehow his and yet entirely unfamiliar.

Goro's hand clenched into a fist. His chest tightened. Sawamura Eijun—that name, the girl's voice had called him that, and it echoed in his mind with strange familiarity. He knew that name from somewhere. This was…not just his life. Not his body.

His reflection showed not a trace of the Goro Honda who had once thrown fastballs with everything he had. Instead, he was looking at the face of a high school boy—a face filled with youthful determination and the spark of a dream just beginning.

Somehow, he was Sawamura Eijun.

"Eijun!" the girl yelled again, jerking him from his thoughts. "What's with you today? Are you still half-asleep? Get down here, or you'll miss the bus!"

As if driven by instinct, Goro stood and moved toward the stairs. A part of him resisted, wanting to retreat back to that quiet darkness where he could figure out what was going on. But the other part of him—the part that lived and breathed baseball—felt a pull so strong it overpowered any hesitation. He was here. He had a body, a mind, and a chance to play. What more did he need?

He grabbed a set of clothes from the dresser and pulled them on, noting the slightly unfamiliar fit and the worn fabric, clearly well-used and loved. Each step toward the door felt more like a step into a game he wasn't sure he knew how to play.

The girl, still exasperated, met him at the door and shoved a bag into his hands. "Finally. And don't even think about eating on the bus again, Eijun, or the driver will throw you out!"

Goro blinked, taking in the scent of fresh rice and miso soup wafting from the lunch bag. The small, cozy kitchen seemed alive with warmth and comfort, stirring something faint in his memory—a different house, a different mother, a different time. He shook it off. Whoever these people were, they clearly thought he was one of them, and if this was the life he was living now, he'd have to find a way to fit in.

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh, the chill of early morning clinging to the edges of the dawn. As he walked down the road, his body moved easily, almost too easily. His legs felt strong, his arms responsive, as if they were made for swinging, throwing, catching. He could feel the muscle memory buried deep within, waiting to be unleashed on the field.

The school bus arrived soon after, and he stepped aboard, greeted by a blur of faces, some curious, others indifferent. He felt eyes on him but ignored them, sinking into a seat near the back, his mind whirling with questions and uncertainty. Yet a quiet thrill was building, whispering that he had been given a chance—a chance to play baseball again, to prove himself all over, to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

As the bus rumbled toward Seidou High, Goro closed his eyes and leaned back. He wasn't sure if he was Sawamura Eijun, Goro Honda, or some strange blend of both, but one thing was clear: he was here to play, and he wouldn't waste this chance.

When the bus pulled into the parking lot, Goro stepped off, greeted by the looming structure of Seidou High School. He felt his heart race as he took in the sight of students in their uniforms, mingling in groups or heading toward the building with purpose. He was about to walk past a cluster of boys when he heard them talking excitedly, their voices full of pride and anticipation.

"Did you hear? They've got a powerhouse baseball team here!"

"I know, right? I heard one of their pitchers even got scouted already!"

The conversation triggered a rush of memories, scenes of his past life—no, his past lives—flashing before his eyes. In one, he was Goro Honda, gripping a baseball with fierce determination; in the other, he was Sawamura Eijun, dreaming of being the ace who led his team to victory.

Shaking off the distraction, he followed the flow of students inside, keeping his head down but listening intently to every conversation around him. The voices filled him with a restless energy that he hadn't felt since his days of chasing a fastball with everything he had.

As he made his way through the crowded hallways, he could feel the buzz of high school life settling around him. But it wasn't the chatter of classmates or the rhythm of new routines that kept his pulse racing—it was the anticipation of finding that baseball field, of feeling the dirt under his cleats and the weight of the ball in his hand.

Today, he would find his way to the team, he promised himself. Today, he would start again, no matter what obstacles lay ahead.

And, as he walked through the bustling corridors of Seidou High, Goro Honda—no, Sawamura Eijun—felt the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips.