บท 1: Chapter 1 Shinjiro Takumi
The little league baseball field lay in the fading light of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the diamond. Shinjiro Takumi, drenched in sweat, stood alone at the pitcher's mound. His uniform clung to him, heavy with exhaustion and frustration. He had thrown hundreds of pitches today, each one fueled by the hope of proving himself, but each one seemed to fall short of the mark.
The coach, a grizzled man with a no-nonsense demeanor, walked over, his footsteps heavy on the gravel. He looked at Shinjiro with a mixture of sympathy and sternness. "Shinjiro, we need to talk," he said, his voice carrying a weight that made Shinjiro's heart sink.
"Coach, I—" Shinjiro began, but the coach raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Boy i know you've been giving it your all," the coach said. "But I've got to be honest. You just don't have the natural talent for this. I've seen a lot of players, and I can't ignore what I'm seeing. It might be time to think about other options."
Shinjiro's throat tightened. He had worked so hard to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, both celebrated pitchers. The coach's words felt like a punch to the gut. "But I can improve," Shinjiro protested, his voice wavering. "I can get better. I just need more time."
The coach shook his head gently. "It's not just about time. Talent isn't something you can force. I'm telling you this because I care. Baseball might not be where you'll find your path, i thought because you're that man's grandson you'd improve..."
Shinjiro's eyes burned with tears he fought to hold back. He nodded silently, unable to find the words to express the crushing disappointment and confusion swirling inside him. He watched as the coach walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the weight of his unfulfilled dreams.
---
At home, Shinjiro's father sat at the kitchen table, flipping through a stack of paperwork. The room was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator. Shinjiro's father looked up as Shinjiro entered, his expression shifting from concern to weariness.
"Hey, kiddo. How was practice?" his father asked, trying to sound casual but failing to mask the tension in his voice.
Shinjiro took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Coach says I don't have the talent. He thinks I should stop focusing on baseball and concentrate on school."
His father's face fell. He set down his papers and sighed deeply. "What that bastard really said that!? I swear I'll...." He then looked Shinjiro sorrowful face "I know you've been working hard, but sometimes, things don't turn out the way we hope. I wanted so much for you to follow in my footsteps, but…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Shinjiro clenched his fists, his heart aching. "But you and Grandpa were both great. I thought if I worked hard enough, I could be too. I don't want to let you down."
His father's eyes softened, but they were filled with sadness. "We never wanted to put that kind of pressure on you. It's not that we don't believe in you. It's just… baseball can be unforgiving. Maybe it's time to think about other ways to build your future."
The words felt like a heavy chain around Shinjiro's chest. He had hoped that his passion and effort would be enough to overcome the lack of natural talent. Now, facing the disappointment in his father's eyes, he felt the full weight of his failed aspirations.
He nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay, Dad."
As he retreated to his room, Shinjiro felt a cold emptiness settle over him. The baseball glove and bat that had once been symbols of his dreams now seemed like relics of a past that was slipping away. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the reality of his situation crashing over him in waves. The dreams he had cherished seemed like distant echoes, and he was left with the painful realization that sometimes, even the hardest work might not be enough.
In the quiet of the night, Shinjiro tried to gather his thoughts. Despite the crushing weight of disappointment, a part of him still clung to the hope that somehow, he might find a way to honor his family's legacy. For now, though, he faced the harsh truth of his limitations, trying to navigate the painful divide between his dreams and reality.
---
Years Later
Shinjiro stared out of the window at his grandmother's house, where the garden's vibrant colors seemed muted by the weight of his memories. The house, though cozy, was imbued with a deep nostalgia that tugged at his heart. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow, where every corner echoed with the laughter and voices of the past. Today, however, was not a day of remembrance but of labor—helping to clean out the house after his grandmother had moved to a retirement community.
As he dusted off the old bookshelf, Shinjiro's thoughts drifted to his grandfather, whose legendary status in baseball had once illuminated their family's name. His grandfather had been a living legend, his skill and charisma on the field having inspired countless stories. Yet, to Shinjiro, those stories felt like distant echoes, swallowed by the shadow of his own perceived inadequacies. Despite his fervent love for baseball, he had always struggled to measure up. In middle school, he had been labeled as talentless, a label that seemed to follow him like a dark cloud.
His father, though accomplished in his own right, had never quite escaped the immense shadow cast by his father's glory. As for Shinjiro, he found solace in his academic success, which had earned him a place in a prestigious high school known more for its baseball excellence than for nurturing promising scholars. Yet, amidst the elite team's frequent appearances in Koshien, Shinjiro felt the sting of his own limitations acutely.
His grandmother entered the room, her steps slow and deliberate. Her eyes, though weary, were bright with a mixture of affection and melancholy. She approached Shinjiro with a small, velvet-lined box, her hands trembling slightly.
"Shinjiro, my dear," she said, her voice carrying a tender weight, "I want you to have this." She opened the box to reveal a silver necklace, its pendant ornately designed. Shinjiro recognized it immediately from old family photographs—a cherished keepsake that had once belonged to his grandfather.
"This was your grandfather's," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the necklace. "He wore it every game. I believe it's time it finds its way to you."
Shinjiro took the necklace, feeling the cold metal against his fingers. As he slipped it around his neck, he could almost hear the distant cheers and see the flash of bright stadium lights from his grandfather's games. The weight of the pendant seemed to carry not just the legacy of a legendary player but the heavy expectations that came with it.
His grandmother watched him with a sad smile. "You've grown so quickly, Shinjiro. It feels like just yesterday when I was wiping your little bottom and bathing you. Time flies, doesn't it?"
Shinjiro blushed, trying to hide his embarrassment. "Grandma! stop teasing me. I'm not a little kid anymore."
She chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling with affection. "I know, dear. But it's hard not to remember the little boy who used to run around this house with such enthusiasm. I'm proud of how far you've come, even if you don't always see it yourself."
After finishing his chores, Shinjiro decided to take a break and headed to the nearby park, the necklace hidden beneath his shirt. The sun was high, casting a warm glow over the field where children played baseball, their laughter echoing through the air. Shinjiro watched them with a mix of longing and wistfulness, remembering how he once felt like a part of such carefree joy.
One of the kids noticed him and called out, "Hey, want to join us?" The invitation stirred a mixture of excitement and nervousness in Shinjiro. He nodded and stepped onto the field, his heart pounding with both anticipation and apprehension.
As he took his position at the plate, the pitcher—a young boy with intense focus—wound up and threw the ball. For a split second, everything seemed to pause. Shinjiro's eyes widened as he saw the ball's path laid out before him with uncanny clarity. It was as if he could predict its trajectory with perfect foresight.
He gripped the bat tighter, his frustration giving way to determination. Shinjiro took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stepped back into the batter's box. His body tingled with an unfamiliar energy, and this time, he could feel everything aligning perfectly—the weight of the bat, the timing of the pitch. As the ball left the pitcher's hand, he swung with all his might.
CRACK!
The sound echoed through the field as the bat connected cleanly with the ball. Shinjiro watched, wide-eyed, as it soared high into the sky, far beyond the outfielders' reach. For a moment, there was only stunned silence before the kids erupted into cheers, their earlier confusion replaced with awe.
Shinjiro walked home, lost in thought. The weight of his discovery and the events of the day swirled in his mind. He clenched the necklace in his pocket, still trying to make sense of what had just happened on the field.
He paused for a moment, then shook his head, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned. The idea seemed absurd, and yet, the clarity with which he had seen those pitches was undeniable. He had no answers, only more questions.
---
The entrance ceremony at Nehimon Seimei High School was a lively event, with the campus abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Shinjiro, now a freshman, stood with his best friend Denji amidst the crowd of new students and their families.
"I bet you're thinking about how you'd get into that team if you had even a bit of your grandfather's talent heheh," Denji teased, his grin wide.
Shinjiro rolled his eyes, though a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, right. As if I don't have enough on my plate without you adding to it."
Denji chuckled, nudging Shinjiro's shoulder. "Hey, I'm just saying, if you could pitch like him, we might actually have a chance of seeing some real action this year."
Shinjiro shot him a mock glare. "Give it a rest, you man. I'm here to focus on my studies and see what this school has to offer, not to live up to some legacy bullshit."
Denji laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. But don't think you're off the hook."
As they walked through the bustling school grounds, the sense of new beginnings was palpable. Students were chatting animatedly, comparing their expectations and sharing their excitement. Shinjiro and Denji navigated their way through the crowd, their conversation a mix of humor and genuine curiosity about their new environment.
Denji glanced at Shinjiro with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Looks like we're both in the same class. I guess that means I'll have to put up with your grumbling and baseball rants all year."
Shinjiro laughed, feeling a wave of relief. "It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it."
As they reached their new classroom, the door swung open to reveal a bright, inviting space filled with the chatter of other first-year students. Shinjiro and Denji entered, taking in the clean, organized layout and the mix of familiar and unfamiliar faces.
Denji plopped down at a desk and grinned. "Well, here we are. Fresh start, new challenges, and new chicks lets hope this class has some real prospects coming up."
Shinjiro sat next to him, "Spoken like a true virgin."
As the students settled in and the room filled with a buzz of conversations, Shinjiro felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. With Denji by his side, the journey ahead seemed a little less daunting. The future was uncertain, but with a friend like Denji, Shinjiro felt ready to face whatever came next.
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