Experience of an Ace Pitcher

"Cough, cough—" Former ace Nozawa cleared his throat. Kōshū also took him seriously for once as the two of them huddled secretly in a corner.

"First question: when you stand on the Pitcher's Mound, what should you be thinking about?"

Kōshū recalled the few times he had stood on the mound. Since they had only been internal practices, he had not felt nervous at all, so he had nearly forgotten. "Probably what pitches the batter is good at hitting."

"Wrong!" Nozawa rapped his junior on the head in exasperation. "You shouldn't think about anything! What pitches the batter likes? Isn't that the catcher's problem? Let the catchers closest to the batters worry about that!"

Before Kōshū could be deafened, Nozawa lowered his voice and held up one finger. "So that's the first thing. Once you're on the Pitcher's Mound, just don't think about anything at all!"

"Senior Nozawa... weren't you going to teach me the experience of an ace?"

"No, no, no," Nozawa interrupted. "Precisely because you're an ace pitcher, you need to pitch normally. Pitch when you're pitching, bat when you're batting—that's an ace's composure."

"Okay..." It sounded somewhat reasonable, so Kōshū decided to hear him out for now.

"Next, second question. When you pitch very well but still get hit, what should you think?" Senior Nozawa raised a second finger and stared brightly at Kōshū.

"What should I think... I should pitch better next time."

"No, no, no!" Nozawa shouted. "Wrong again!"

"What's wrong with that?"

Nozawa looked around and lowered his voice. "Going by the first point, analyzing the batter is the catcher's responsibility. We followed the catcher's signals and put the ball exactly where we were supposed to. If it still gets hit, then once we rule out our own responsibility, there's only one person responsible..."

He wagged his finger for emphasis. "The catcher! It's entirely his fault!"

"Um... Senior Nozawa, would you dare say that in front of Senior Ido?"

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that no matter how well you pitch, if you get hit, don't take it to heart, got it? That's an ace's composure!"

He somehow forced it back on track at the end and even elevated the lesson. Kōshū was speechless.

"Third question. When you're performing very well, but a teammate makes an error and lets a runner reach first base, what should you think?"

Kōshū froze when he heard that. He had thought the third point would still be another one of Senior Nozawa's jokes, but it turned out to be a serious topic. After thinking for two seconds, he answered decisively, "You can't blame your teammate. Anyone can make mistakes. We just need to stop them from scoring together."

"Correct. No matter what mistakes your teammates make, don't take them to heart. That's an ace's composure." Senior Nozawa raised a fourth finger. "Fourth: all the previous situations assumed you were in great form. What if you're in poor form and your pitches have no real power behind them?"

"Then I'd need to ask why I'm in poor form. Is it the weather that day? Did I not warm up properly? Or am I tired from pitching too much? Any cause of poor form that can be avoided should be avoided."

"Haha." Senior Nozawa ruffled Kōshū's hair. "Kid, don't be so serious. Form is a mysterious thing. Sometimes, even under exactly the same conditions, one day you'll be in great form and another you'll be terrible. But like you said, you should avoid every preventable cause of poor form. If you can't avoid it, then you need to adjust as much as possible while facing the first three batters. That's an ace's ability to adjust."

Kōshū nodded obediently. He now believed that Senior Nozawa had genuinely thought some of this through.

"Of course, if you can't adjust no matter what, the coach will definitely replace you. If that happens, what should you think?"

"Uh... composure?"

Nozawa slapped Kōshū hard on the shoulder. "Correct! Usually, they'll throw the ace into left field, then bring him back in depending on the situation. If you're in poor form, even an ace will be replaced. For the team's victory, you can't throw a tantrum. An ace isn't the Pitcher's Mound's title sponsor—you can't hog the mound forever."

"Hey—Senior Nozawa, is there more?" Out of the corner of his eye, Kōshū saw the other seniors helping clean up the field.

"Fifth question: what's the difference between an ace pitcher and other pitchers?"

Senior Nozawa spread his palm in front of Kōshū, then curled it into a fist.

"It's this. Solidity, stability, a sense of strength—like a rope tied tightly around a pocket."

"The feeling of tying the pocket shut so the runs can't leak out?"

"Yes, that's exactly the feeling!" As Nozawa played off Kōshū's words, he became more and more engrossed, moved beyond words. "The feeling that if even you give up runs, then there's nothing anyone can do."

"Mm-hmm—" Kōshū nodded obediently. Then he saw someone approaching behind Senior Nozawa. The person must have heard Nozawa's last few words, because he paused before coming closer. "Nozawa, what strange things are you teaching your junior? I've never felt anything like that from you."

"Huh? Ah—Ido... why are you here?" Senior Nozawa, who had bristled like a startled cat, immediately wilted.

"Hey—look at the field. What is everyone doing, and what are you doing? It's the last day at the club, and you still haven't come to help clean up." Ido shook his head with apparent helplessness.

Senior Nozawa no longer cared about the junior he had just been whispering with. After saying goodbye, he immediately rushed off to help tidy the field, leaving Senior Ido and Kōshū facing each other.

Because Senior Ido was the captain, he was extremely busy leading the team and organizing the Pitcher Lineup. He had rarely spoken with Kōshū. Usually, Senior Nozawa served as the go-between, but now that only the two of them remained, neither really knew where to start.

"Haha, come to think of it, I haven't caught for you much since that test of your control." Ido smiled and spoke first.

"Ah, we started preparing after that, didn't we? All the seniors got really busy."

"But your pitching left a deep impression on me. I'll probably have plenty of free time for a while after this, so if you need it, I can take a look at your pitching."

"Ah, then thank you in advance, Senior. By the way, have you decided on a high school yet?" Kōshū had been planning to ask Hayakawa, but now that the seniors had returned, he might as well ask them directly.

"Oh! Nozawa and I still want to play baseball together, so we were both invited by a private high school that was only established a few years ago: Tachikawa Private High School in Tachikawa City."

"Oh, oh." Kōshū did not know much about Japanese high schools, so he had no major reaction beyond making a mental note of it. However, Senior Ido misunderstood his reaction and immediately began explaining.

"Although Tachikawa Private is a newly established high school, their baseball coach is Okawa Kura, a retired former professional player. You may not know much about him, but he was a Japanese Professional League player Nozawa really liked when he was little."

"Ah, so Senior Nozawa wants to practice baseball under a player he respects?"

"Yes. Although we received invitations from other high schools, after visiting the facilities, we still decided on Tachikawa Private."

"That sounds nice too."

"Yeah. After all, very few people can truly make it into professional baseball. Rather than that, it's better to choose what makes you happy while playing baseball." Senior Ido sounded as though he were speaking to Kōshū, yet also as though he were convincing himself. What teenager was not full of ambition? No matter what they said in front of others, when they were alone, they always had the thought that perhaps they were the one suited for professional baseball.

"But that's Senior Nozawa's reason for going to Tachikawa Private. What about you, Captain Ido?" After thinking for a moment, Kōshū looked at Nozawa, who was working hard on the field, and still voiced the question. In any case, they had already left the team, so even if it sounded like he was trying to drive a wedge between them, he had nothing to fear.

Senior Ido paused. Only after a long while did he say, "Playing baseball properly with Nozawa... I suppose that's what I want." By the end, the hesitation in Ido's voice had clearly vanished. As he said those words, he had also made up his mind.

"The future is created by your future self." At the end, Senior Ido got fired up again. Seeing Kōshū's surprised expression, he smiled awkwardly.

"Mm. Then, Senior, if I keep playing baseball in high school, I'll see you on the field."

"Okay."

After they finished packing up that day, the third-year seniors officially left. The new First String began brutal adjustment training. The pitchers' Bullpen practice time was greatly reduced; from Monday through Wednesday, they focused almost entirely on intensive pitcher defense drills, including pickoffs, handling ground balls in front of the Pitcher's Mound, and dealing with stolen bases. To accommodate Kōshū, the newcomer, they also added explanations of pitcher balks.

Hayakawa Aki had a headache over this. "Didn't I tell you to go home and watch Japanese Professional League games?"

Kōshū answered with perfect confidence, "I did watch them, but balks don't really come up in those games, so how was I supposed to know there was knowledge like that?" Then he looked at first-year Sato. "Besides, there's Sato too."

"Senior, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been playing baseball since elementary school. I actually know quite a lot about pitchers." Since Kōshū had joined the club after him and constantly came up with newcomer questions, Sato often treated Kōshū like a peer.

"Ah, fine. Even if I'm the only one who doesn't know, if I don't know, then it's worth explaining."

Hayakawa Aki pressed a hand to his forehead and had Sato, who also threw right-handed, demonstrate how a right-handed pitcher picked off runners on base. Once Kōshū had practiced it to perfection, he was dragged off to train in Outfield Defense.

Kōshū had not invested much effort into Outfield Defense before. Fortunately, even if he had never eaten pork, he had seen pigs run. After watching everyone play the outfield so often, he learned quickly enough.

As October entered its latter half, the intense training suddenly eased up. Just as Kōshū finally caught his breath and escaped a little from the twin mountains of pitching and defense, Coach Ninomiya announced new news.

"Next weekend, we'll have a practice game against Yoshinaga Club." Then he looked at Kōshū. "Kōshū, you'll start. Can I leave it to you?"

Kōshū's eyes lit up. Pain immediately shot through his body, but he still nodded. "You can!"

After two days of exams, they were finally over.

These past few days had basically sent me back to high school. The moment I relaxed a little, I felt intensely guilty, like I should have been using that time to do practice questions instead. T-T

And today, I originally wanted to register for the national civil service exam, but!! I didn't notice that registration closed at 6 p.m. I thought it closed at midnight. When I tried to register at eight, it told me registration had ended. Heavens, this is so miserable!

But it's okay. I only wanted to get a feel for the national civil service exam anyway. I'll study the essay and aptitude sections first, then prepare for next year's provincial civil service exam.

I'll also improve my work skills and résumé. Starting in December, I'll interview for other jobs. In January, I'll submit my resignation and hand over my work. By February, I can move seamlessly into my next job.

Come to think of it, I'm not even sure whether I should keep drifting around in the internet industry, go to a state-owned enterprise, or take the civil service exam—like I could actually pass it. Anyway, I'll prepare first.