The True Ace

"Huh? Why could this Miyuki Kazuya never just speak properly?" He put away his phone, but he couldn't let go of the message's contents.

"Come out and meet someone with me. He's a true ace pitcher."

Who could it be? Though annoyed, Kōshū was also deeply curious. He grabbed Hayakawa Aki. "Hayakawa, does Miyuki Kazuya know any especially amazing pitchers?"

"Huh? If we're talking especially amazing pitchers, Narumiya Mei from Ōkawa Little League would count as one. But I don't know whether those two know each other."

"Ōkawa Little League? The Ōkawa playing Marugame Little League today? The winner between them will be our next opponent," Lang Zhi added.

While Kōshū's little group was still chattering away, Coach Ninomiya emerged, followed by a grinning group of First String players.

"Gather up—"

The boys' eyes shone, the joy of victory still fresh on their faces. Coach Ninomiya did not stop their brief excitement and calmly announced their next opponent. "We just received word. The result from the other venue is in. Our next opponent is Ōkawa Little League."

"Huh?" Everyone was startled, but their expressions quickly darkened.

"Their ace pitcher is Narumiya Mei, a pitcher who rose to prominence after Ōkawa reorganized this spring. If we want to reach the finals, we have to get past him. So leave today's victory in today. We still have plenty to work on tomorrow. The First String will have no extra practice today. Go home and get some proper rest. The Second String will return to the club for live practice."

"Yeah—" Lang Zhi shouted excitedly into Kōshū's ear. Watching the First String teammates battle it out on the field today had made his hands itch.

Kōshū, meanwhile, absently picked at his phone. After a long while, he finally replied to Miyuki's message.

"Is it Narumiya Mei?"

"If it is or isn't, won't you find out by coming?"

"Why do you sound like some creepy uncle luring little girls out? There's this disgusting sense of ulterior motives."

"...What kind of comparison is that?"

"So, is it Narumiya Mei?" Kōshū stared at his phone screen. It took Miyuki Kazuya a long time to respond.

"Forget it. If you're not coming, then don't." This guy was playing hard to get with him now.

"Time and place." Kōshū replied curtly.

"Huh? What's this? Kōshū is actually coming out?"

"Stop talking nonsense. Time and place."

"Tomorrow at seven in the evening. Yoshiguchi Baseball Stadium."

A baseball field? What exactly was Miyuki Kazuya up to?

The next afternoon, Coach really did let everyone go home an hour early.

"Hayakawa, do you chat with that Miyuki Kazuya guy every day? Why does he know so much about our team?" Kōshū draped himself over Hayakawa Aki's back and spoke lazily.

"But I haven't been chatting with Miyuki lately."

"Then who is it?" Kōshū wondered. Just then, Senior Nozawa stepped over several people blocking the way and headed outside.

"Sen—ior—No—zawa," Kōshū called, stopping Nozawa. "Can I see your phone?"

"Ah, why? Kōshū, are you that interested in me?" Nozawa was not offended at all, wearing his usual teasing grin.

"I want to check whether there's anyone in Senior Nozawa's contacts who shouldn't be there."

Seeing everyone gather around, Nozawa instead looked proud. "Sure. I'm very popular, you know."

Kōshū took the phone without ceremony. After scrolling only a little, he found Miyuki Kazuya's chat window. "Senior Nozawa, this Miyuki Kazuya is a total bastard. Ah, why are you even discussing pitching with him?"

"Relax, relax. Their team has already been eliminated anyway."

The truth had come so late. Even more terrifying was that Miyuki's influence had already infiltrated Kinoshita Club this deeply. Even their ace pitcher had been won over, and then Kōshū, the next ace pitcher, had actually taken the initiative to ask Miyuki to meet.

Damn it, what was this situation?

Burdened by a deep sense of guilt, Kōshū changed trains several times before finally reaching the edge of East Tokyo and finding the baseball field.

Since it was out in the suburbs, the field was quite large. Two people stood at the entrance: Miyuki, wearing glasses, and another with blond hair.

Another mixed-race kid? Kōshū had already changed out of his uniform and walked over to greet them.

Miyuki grinned and hooked an arm over Kōshū's shoulder. "Have you gotten taller again?" Then he turned toward the blond boy. "Mei, this is the very interesting pitcher I told you about—Kōshū. He's your opponent in the next game."

Narumiya Mei had just been about to mock Kōshū's height when the information in Miyuki Kazuya's words stunned him. "Are you out of your mind? You brought together two opponents who are about to play each other?"

"It's fine, it's fine. This guy is still a member of the stands," Miyuki reassured Narumiya Mei in a carefree tone. Kōshū, who had not spoken until now, was already exploding inside. This Miyuki Kazuya couldn't speak properly, yet he had so much to say—and every time, he hit exactly where it hurt.

"Sorry, I'm a member of the stands, catcher boy from an eliminated team."

"Oh? Could it be that Kōshū is angry?" Miyuki laughed it off.

Kōshū ignored Miyuki. He knew perfectly well why he had come today. Taking a step forward, he made Narumiya Mei feel the pressure. Narumiya frowned as he heard the boy opposite him say, "Senior Narumiya Mei, I've heard many people say that you're the strongest pitcher of this generation in Tokyo. Could you let me see your pitching?"

"Heh heh, of course I can. But in return, I don't want to see your pitching." Narumiya Mei lifted his chin, radiating pride.

"Ha ha, of course. I'm still a member of the stands, after all." Kōshū did not get angry at all, which irritated Narumiya Mei slightly. "Today, I'll let you see how impressive the ace really is. Watch carefully, kid."

Narumiya Mei then ordered Miyuki, "Kazuya, squat down and catch for me. I'm going to let this kid learn how high the sky is and how deep the earth is."

"Yeah—yeah—" As the three talked, they finally reached the Indoor Training Field.

"Kōshū, are you going to watch from the side?"

"I want to watch from behind the catcher."

"Fine by me. Hehe, that's even more convenient. You'd better watch very carefully."

"...Senior Miyuki, what bad thing are you plotting?"

"No, no, no. I just think your next game should be very exciting. Don't worry, I'll definitely go watch."

"...Is that really okay?" If Kōshū could spot any details in Narumiya Mei's pitching, such as small tells, he would absolutely report them to Coach Ninomiya immediately.

"What's not okay about it? Mei doesn't mind. Besides, you should watch a couple pitches first before saying anything."

After that brief exchange, Narumiya Mei finished warming up.

"I'm pitching." The blond pitcher stood atop the mound, and once he got serious, his presence seemed nearly six feet tall. He shook the excess Anti-Slip Powder from his hand, casually spun the ball, and fired it straight toward the plate.

Bang— In the empty training field, with only the three of them there, that explosive sound struck Kōshū's heart like a gunshot.

"What do you think? Mei can throw over 140 kilometers per hour."

Bang— Another loud crack. Miyuki caught it easily, and even his relaxed smile and words became unfathomably profound in Kōshū's eyes.

Narumiya Mei pitched well, and Miyuki caught it beautifully. Just a few kilometers of difference in velocity completely changed the fastball. The ball arrived faster, and you had to focus completely to track it.

And this was a human-thrown 140-kilometer fastball, unlike a ball from a pitching machine. Every fastball thrown by a person carried movement depending on his condition, like a waking beast stretching out its sharp claws and charging toward Home Plate.

"Whoa—Senior Narumiya is amazing." Kōshū applauded from behind.

The blond boy across from him was lightly sweating. He had pitched and vented his frustration, and now he was full of himself. "Kid, you've got a good eye. By the way, what was your name again?"

"Kōshū..."

"Kōshū, does your team have any pitchers who can throw 140?" He clearly already knew the answer, yet he still asked Kōshū with his nose in the air.

"No..."

"Ha ha, that's why I'm the strongest pitcher of this generation in Tokyo." He was so busy boasting to Kōshū that he stopped pitching altogether. "I became the ace as soon as I graduated from third year. It may be cruel, but your team is destined to fall to me this time."

"..." Kōshū was not a First String member, so he honestly did not feel much about this kind of provocation. He did not yet have any real sense of team belonging, so he remained silent, neither agreeing nor denying. Fortunately, Narumiya Mei did not care about Kōshū's reaction at all.

"Now then, Mr. Stands Player." What kind of title was that? Hadn't he just asked his name? Why was he calling him whatever he wanted again? Kōshū understood that he had no power to protest. Since coming to the world of baseball, he had increasingly felt that without ability, you had no right to speak.

"Looks like you don't really believe me. Then I'll give you a special feature. Kazuya, forkball." Narumiya Mei looked utterly relaxed, but his body was already in motion. He threw the pitch. It was about ten kilometers per hour slower than his fastball, and just before reaching Home Plate, it suddenly dropped under Kōshū's astonished gaze. The ball barely grazed the bottom edge of the Strike Zone, but by the time it reached Miyuki's glove, it was already close to the ground.

"Well? Well? How's my forkball?!" Kōshū took two deep breaths in a row before his heartbeat finally slowed. If he were a batter facing a pitch like that, taking it would be a strike, while swinging would easily produce a grounder. Together with that high-speed fastball, there was only one conclusion: middle school batters simply could not hit it well.

"So this is a forkball?" Kōshū ignored the fuming Narumiya Mei and pondered whether he could learn this pitch once his own velocity improved.

"Huh? Kōshū, you don't even know what a forkball is?" Miyuki was a little surprised when he heard Kōshū mutter.

"Ah, right. You know, I came from China. I didn't watch many baseball games growing up. Since the team coaches have to consider a lot of things, I've just been training my body every day and haven't studied other pitch types in particular."

Seeing the other two drift off into conversation and himself become a bystander, Narumiya Mei immediately ran over too. "Kazuya, what are you talking about with this kid? We're still pitching here!"

"Yeah—your pitches have already bored me. Let Kōshū pitch instead."

"Huh? Miyuki Kazuya, you bastard! You called me here, and I only threw thirty-something pitches!" Narumiya Mei puffed up in anger. Seeing this pitiful ace, Kōshū inexplicably felt a little kinship with him. Really, why make life difficult for yourself by becoming friends with someone like Miyuki?

Work is so tiring. I wonder how everyone relaxes when they're exhausted.

My way of relaxing is to buy a lottery ticket in my head, pretend that I've won, and then make all kinds of plans about what I'd buy and what kind of life I'd live after becoming rich.

Of course, I only think about it for fun. In real life, I would never buy lottery tickets, because I'm incredibly unlucky.

The most classic example was when the center organized an event where everyone was guaranteed a prize. There were tons of prizes, including several ovens, what seemed like induction cookers, floor lamps, and so on. Yet in an event where everyone was guaranteed to win something, I got the consolation prize—a thermos cup.

More recently, it was the company anniversary celebration. There were all kinds of little game booths around the company that morning. I played three different games and didn't win a single prize, so I asked a coworker to share some with me if he won anything. He won every game and could barely carry all his prizes. But from the moment I asked him and started following him around, he lost all four games. Eventually, he was even scared of me, so I hurried away. The moment I left, he went back to winning every game at the next booth... He definitely wasn't doing it on purpose, because those games relied heavily on luck.

Thinking about it, I'd better just work honestly.