Watching Seido Games as a Family

"Kokubunji City..." Kōshū pictured the map in his head. Wasn't it only separated from West Tokyo City by Kodaira City?

"I grew up around there when I was little. Lang Zhi's grandparents used to live on the outskirts of Seido High School. If you opened the window, you could see the baseball field in the distance."

Lang Zhi, beside him, nodded as well. "That's right. Later, Grandpa and Grandma moved to Auntie's place in Gunma, so I haven't been there in a long time."

"High school baseball... is it different from the club baseball we play now?" Kōshū leaned against the back of his chair, gently swaying his head as he muttered.

"That depends on whether the school you visit is a baseball powerhouse."

"Pfft—powerhouse? That sounds so cringe, hahahaha." Kōshū couldn't help thinking of those trashy web ads back home, with titles like "The Heiress of a Powerful Family."

Lang Zhi, who had been laughed at, rubbed his nose and retaliated in embarrassment. "It's normal, okay? Everyone calls them that. Stop laughing."

"Sorry." Kōshū forcibly suppressed his laughter. In front of Mr. Sasaki, he still had to appear sufficiently friendly toward Lang Zhi. "It means a high school with a really strong Baseball Club, right?"

"...Right. Most of them are private schools now. They recruit baseball prospects everywhere and bring them in to study baseball. Public high schools don't have that much funding or such outstanding students, so their Baseball Clubs have gradually declined. Once you join a private school's Baseball Club, you probably train ten times more than we do at the club now..."

"Ten times? Then Mr. Sasaki, you were in the Baseball Club of a private school before, right? Did you really train that much?" Kōshū turned toward Mr. Sasaki, who was wearing a mysterious smile off to the side.

"Well~ talent is still the most important thing in baseball, but the basic requirement is training volume. The First String members were all training fanatics. I was just there for fun. Embarrassing as it is to say, I always left early while everyone else was still practicing. In the end, I quit the Baseball Club because I didn't want to keep being the odd one out on the team."

Mr. Sasaki openly revealed his high school thoughts to children much younger than himself, as though he didn't doubt in the slightest that they might look down on him for it.

"But medical school is difficult to get into, isn't it? I imagine Mr. Sasaki's training in medicine was no less intense than those Baseball Club members' training." Kōshū flattered him from the side, while Lang Zhi reopened the little ledger in his heart.

October 23rd, sunny. When Kōshū talked to Dad today, he used that adult-style flattery again. It made me look really immature. But do I need this kind of fake politeness with my biological father? Lang Zhi's mind was a complete mess.

Mr. Sasaki had revealed his past weakness because he wasn't ashamed of it. Now that he had unexpectedly received the children's understanding, he was somewhat moved. He pulled Lang Zhi and Kōshū into a long discussion about all sorts of amusing stories from school until bedtime.

During practice the next morning, Kōshū had thrown a complete game the day before, so he was assigned to practice Outfield Defense. When he passed the Pitcher's Mound where he had pitched yesterday, he deliberately stepped onto it for a moment. Facing the empty Batter's Box, he went through the motion of a pitch.

The nearby teammates immediately noticed what he was doing.

"Kōshū, you can't pitch today."

"What's wrong, Kōshū? Reliving yesterday's pitching?"

"Okay, okay, I won't pitch—" Kōshū quickly ran to left field. What he didn't say was, It really feels different from pitching in a game. When there's a batter, the Strike Zone feels a little narrower.

That morning was still focused on intensified defensive training for the First String members. The coach hit high fly balls into the outfield, and the fielders had to rush to the landing spot, catch the ball, and throw it back to Home Plate. If their arms weren't strong enough, they also had to coordinate with second base and shortstop for a relay throw. But Kōshū had no problem with insufficient arm strength. The only thing he had been told was—

"Kōshū, don't throw directly to Home Plate. Bounce it in front of the plate. How long have you even been training as an outfielder?" Coach Ninomiya shouted from Home Plate. Throwing directly to Home Plate was best, of course, but sometimes, for safety's sake, the ball still had to bounce in front of the plate so the catcher had time to handle it.

"Got it—" Kōshū raised a hand from left field. He noticed the complicated looks from some of the players. Rather than saying his throws were fast, it would be more accurate to say they were precise. No matter where he picked up the ball, he could basically throw it straight into the catcher's glove at Home Plate. For middle school baseball, that was already more than enough.

"That guy's amazing." Every time Kōshū's return throw passed between second and third base, Lang Zhi felt like the ball was alive, flying straight toward the catcher.

As the boys practiced on the baseball field, the sun rose higher and higher. It was around eleven o'clock by then. The sun-baked dirt and grass were a little hot. When Kōshū wiped away sweat, the grains of dirt on the back of his hand scraped his face painfully. He wanted to loosen his cap a little to reduce the stuffy, sweaty contact, but this wasn't the Pitcher's Mound. If he wore his cap like that, it would definitely fall off, so he could only endure it.

After another half hour of training, Kōshū finally welcomed his first Sunday afternoon after joining the youth baseball team that had nothing to do with baseball.

"Why do you get to wash first?" Kōshū and Lang Zhi blocked the bathroom door, locked in a quiet standoff.

"Why?" Kōshū gestured to his clearly earlier position. "First come, first served."

"I want to wash first too."

"Either I go first, or we go together." Kōshū had already said that twice.

"No, let me wash first!" Lang Zhi started being unreasonable.

"Why? It should be first come, first served." Since the two adults were cooking nearby, Kōshū hadn't wanted to settle this with force. This guy had psychological trauma from being bullied, but a brat still needed to be taught a lesson when the time was right.

Lang Zhi looked at the incredibly intimidating Kōshū and swallowed, but he still continued arrogantly, "I want to wash first."

Brats were just like that. They understood every principle they were supposed to understand. When they were alone, they behaved perfectly, but once they had someone to rely on, they would make up for all that usual obedience twice over.

Of course, Lang Zhi was a good child most of the time. It was just that whenever he faced Kōshū, he had the urge to make up for something. Kōshū only had himself to blame for always behaving too well.

Kōshū had no time to cater to Lang Zhi's feelings. He pressed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him toward the bathroom. "Come on, let's wash together."

"No, I don't want to wash together, Mom—"

Bang—

Shen Qing, who was chopping vegetables, paused for a moment and asked her husband, "Was Lang Zhi just shouting that he didn't want to bathe together?"

Mr. Sasaki was clattering around with cooking utensils. Hearing that, he said carelessly, "They get along so well. I'll take them to the bathhouse later. Our bathroom is still too small."

The details of how Kōshū dealt with the brat would not be discussed for now. By the time the Sasaki family arrived at the ballpark right at one o'clock, Lang Zhi looked quite normal. When they bought drinks for everyone, though, he deliberately got Kōshū a strange flavor.

They sat in Seido High School's cheering section on the First Base Side. Since they had arrived late, they could only sit in the last row. The moment they settled down, cheers erupted all around them.

"Huh? What happened?"

Seido's second batter had hit a single, and Kōshū saw a flash of blue raising a hand at first base.

Seido's undershirt is blue.

High schoolers do seem sturdier overall than middle schoolers.

While Kōshū was distracted by all the uniform and undershirt colors he had encountered so far, another burst of cheers rose beside him. Mr. Sasaki, seated closest to him, had gotten into the spirit of things in no time at all, and the sudden shout nearly rattled Kōshū's ears.

"Huh? What happened now?"

Looking toward the field, he saw that there were now runners on first and second. The public school facing Seido today had already begun an infield meeting on the Pitcher's Mound.

A burly figure slowly walked toward the Batter's Box. A new batting cheer song began playing nearby, and amid the noisy chatter, the female announcer's voice carried through.

"Fourth batter, Dong Jun."

"Go!"

"Hit it!"

"Give us a big one!"

The atmosphere in the stands became noticeably more restless. It seemed everyone had high expectations for this cleanup hitter.

He looks like a sumo wrestler. I can feel how huge he is even from this far away, Kōshū silently complained. Is he really a high school student?

The players gathered around the Pitcher's Mound dispersed, and the game resumed.

Dong Qingguo stood set in the Batter's Box like a mountain, pressing down on the pitcher and catcher. During the infield meeting just now, they had discussed issuing this batter an intentional Four Balls Walk.

The first pitch has to be low enough. The catcher tapped his glove against the ground. The pitcher released the ball, which dug straight into the dirt in front of Home Plate. Fortunately, the catcher had been prepared and blocked it. He immediately watched second base, and the runner there retreated to the bag.

"What the heck? They're walking Dong Jun again!" Some people around them booed.

Sasaki took the chance to explain to the two brothers that this batter had already hit dozens of Home Runs as a second-year student. He was among the best in all of high school baseball.

"Whew—" The first pitch passed safely. Ignoring the crowd's voices, both the pitcher and catcher let out a breath. There was one out with runners on first and second, and one base was still open. After walking the cleanup hitter, they could try to force a double play from the fifth batter. They might give up one or two runs, but that was better than letting the cleanup hitter hit a Home Run.

Second pitch, outside ball. Dong Qingguo didn't move. Seeing the pitch location, he clicked his tongue. They were going to walk him and face the fifth batter. The later it got in a major tournament, the more often this happened. Dong Qingguo thought of the gap in his team's batting strength, then of the poor class of players coming up after him, and he couldn't help growing anxious.

"Another ball." Kōshū's excitement about carefully watching the game faded as well. Maybe high school baseball was just like this.

Third pitch, outside ball. The catcher held his glove near the edge of the line. Even if they were issuing a Four Balls Walk, they still needed some pride. They couldn't make it too obvious.

The pitcher nodded at the Signals. The count was two balls and no strikes. The opposing cleanup hitter probably knew they intended to walk him, so if they could nick the edge and steal a strike, that would be ideal. Thinking this, the pitcher pushed his body control to the limit. He aimed for a spot just outside the Strike Zone, but the ball drifted about a quarter of a ball away from where the catcher had called for it.

Good, the batter doesn't want to swing... The pitcher secretly rejoiced as he released the ball. Before he could even be happy for a second, he saw the batter bare his fangs. Dong Qingguo saw the ball grazing the edge and swung without hesitation.

Bang— The sound of the baseball striking the sweet spot was swallowed by the surrounding noise. Kōshū watched the ball fly farther and farther until it struck the protective fence. He shouted along with the crowd, "Home Run!"

Then he saw the cleanup hitter who looked like a sumo wrestler circling the bases with one hand raised.

That build, that batting... this is bad, Kōshū, who was usually easily distracted while watching games, suddenly perked up. I really want to face a batter like him.

Recently, I realized I have a writing problem: I'm timid when writing games, but I go all-out when writing emotional scenes.

Whenever I write a game, I only want to write the most important parts and speed through everything else.

A little complaint about work: I've realized I really love rambling in author notes. Lately, I can chat with anyone for ages. A new coworker said I was very approachable before, so am I getting old? Becoming more kindly and grandfatherly...

Back to complaining about work. Next Wednesday is the project wrap-up presentation, and once again, we're having meetings after work. Once again, she called us over, then sat there silently typing. Meanwhile, I chaired the whole thing, took notes, and assigned tasks. What the hell? After I finished analyzing everything, the meeting ended? Why not just let me assign the PowerPoint slides directly? Why go through the motions of having a discussion? And I'm not even the project manager, yet I only get 25% of the bonus.