Coach Ninomiya

The predecessor of Kinoshita (Blue) Little League Club had been a sporting goods store, located in what was now West Tokyo City. Its owner, Kinoshita Moriyuki, had been in his prime at the tail end of Japan's golden era. With money to spare, he bought the adjacent sports facility. But just as renovations were completed, the Plaza Accord ushered in Japan's "Lost Twenty Years." Kinoshita's cash flow collapsed, though fortunately, the club had already been built.

In its first year, Kinoshita Club partnered with an elementary school. The school had limited space and could not accommodate another baseball team, but the parents wanted their children to become familiar with baseball from an early age. So the club provided the facilities, while the parents formed the coaching and logistics teams. It was a messy, makeshift operation, but the club somehow made it through its first year.

Soon, older students left and new ones joined. The parents serving as coaches changed constantly as well, though some stayed and gradually gained experience teaching baseball. Even after their children graduated, those parents chose to remain with the team as coaches. But the coaching staff needed a head coach. After several years of selection and replacements, an orthopedic surgeon named Ninomiya eventually became the head coach of the entire team—and had remained so ever since.

Coach Ninomiya was the sort of person who had turned his profession into a hobby, then turned his former hobby into a profession. His clinic had now been entirely handed over to others, and he had officially been hired as Kinoshita Club's head coach. Many of the coaches around him had once had children on the Little League team as well. In a sense, Kinoshita Club was like their child too, having grown up right before their eyes.

This was Coach Ninomiya: his eyelids drooped, and large bags hung beneath his eyes, concealing both his dark pupils and the expression within them. Without changing expression, he looked at the two brothers who had just finished their physical assessments.

The older brother was 1.82 meters tall and had reportedly grown another two centimeters over the past six months. His explosiveness was decent, and he had trained in sprinting for several years. It was unclear whether he had any hidden injuries. His parents said he was accurate when throwing things, so his pitching potential would need additional testing later. The younger brother had played shortstop for several years and was a Regular at Magnolia Middle School. His coordination was clearly excellent. As for batting, the older brother tracked the ball well, though his batting stance needed adjustment. The younger brother was solid but unremarkable, capable of handling a spot in the lower part of the lineup. He still lacked strength.

After taking stock of the current team roster in his mind, he said to Shen Qing, "Not bad, Mrs. Sasaki. Both brothers can join our club, but I should make this clear first: Kinoshita Little League is a team that wants results. In Little League, it takes a long time for children to develop chemistry. Many of our players have been together since third grade. Joining midway through—especially with only a year and a half left—may differ from what you expect."

"Mr. Ninomiya, my husband and I only hope that they can receive proper Hardball training. It would be even better if it helps improve their relationship." Shen Qing understood what the coach meant. If they ended up in the Dugout, they were not to complain to the coach and had to follow the team's arrangements.

Coach Ninomiya raised his eyelids slightly. His attention briefly lingered on the brothers' different surnames, and he understood the woman's meaning. "In that case, Kinoshita Little League will certainly meet your expectations. And precisely because we are a team that pursues results, if any child shows outstanding potential, we will definitely do everything we can to develop it."

"Then I'll leave them in your care." Shen Qing thanked him.

Coach Ninomiya returned the courtesy and assigned a middle-aged coach. "Mr. Fujii."

Then he nodded to the woman behind him. "Mrs. Sasaki, please follow one of the team coaches for testing with the children." He quietly told Coach Fujii the key points that needed observation, then bowed to everyone and left.

"Then please follow me to the Bullpen for a pitching test." Mr. Fujii was so skinny that he looked almost comical. His face was long, and dry, shriveled skin sagged over his bones. Whenever he smiled, his muscles rose, pulling his skin upward as well, piling too much skin around the middle of his face until the wrinkles bloomed like flowers.

"Kōshū-kun, right? Have you practiced pitching before?" he asked as he led the way.

"No. I only learned the mechanics a few days ago."

"Oh, I see. Have you ever measured your pitching speed?"

"About 110, by estimate," Lang Zhi cut in from behind. Mr. Fujii smiled at him.

"So you don't really know how to pitch. Your strength is... being accurate when you throw things, so you wanted to try pitching?"

"Everyone is a beginner anyway. I just wanted to give it a try."

Mr. Fujii knew that, in parents' eyes, even a small strength in their child could be seen as some extraordinary talent. But talent and a strength were entirely different things. A strength was merely the one area where someone was relatively better among all their abilities. Talent, meanwhile, meant being born at the top of a cliff, watching people who worked incredibly hard spend their entire lives climbing toward its summit. Of course, most would never make it there. Even those who did reach the top would have spent the finest part of their lives doing so. Those with talent had long since used that time to reach places the others could never touch.

That was baseball's cruelty. Thinking of that, Mr. Fujii's smile faded slightly. "Mm. This is the place."

It was an enclosed field full of sunlight. Several people were practicing their pitching, but they only glanced over before returning their focus to their own drills.

"Hayakawa-kun, could you catch for this student?"

Mr. Fujii turned to introduce him. "He's one of our Second String catchers."

Then he looked at Kōshū. "Kōshū-kun, warm up by playing catch first. After that, I'll give you some guidance on your pitching mechanics, then assess your potential as a pitcher. Haha, but since you've only just started baseball, this evaluation period may last a while."

Kōshū nodded. After several days of intensive training with Mr. Sasaki and Lang Zhi, he now looked fairly convincing when warming up.

He's really tall. Is he a beginner? Are there still people in Japan who can grow this big without ever touching baseball? Hayakawa thought.

"All right, warm-up's over." Mr. Fujii stepped forward, explained a pitcher's positioning to Kōshū, asked which hand he favored, and had him demonstrate his current pitching motion without a ball.

Traditional right-handed thrower. His mechanics are pretty standard. Someone taught him?

"Now, throw a few pitches and give it a try. Do you know how to throw a Four-Seam Fastball?"

Kōshū nodded and fixed his eyes on the catcher crouching ahead of him.

"Hah—" Even after several days of learning, throwing a ball to another person was something he had only just gotten used to. Right now, all he wanted was to throw the ball into that glove in the distance.

Thump— The ball shot straight into Hayakawa's glove.

At 110, and he located it well. Was that a coincidence? Hayakawa took out the ball and tossed it back to Kōshū.

Kōshū adjusted the ball in his hand and threw another pitch.

Not a coincidence.

"What's your top velocity? Did you deliberately lower your speed so you could throw it in accurately?" Mr. Fujii asked.

"If I throw with all my strength, I might hit someone."

"I'm fine." Hayakawa sounded like a cheerful young man. "Handling a pitcher's Wild Pitch is part of a catcher's job, after all."

Kōshū nodded and threw a pitch using the strength of his wrist. The velocity was noticeably faster.

"That was 115," Lang Zhi whispered to Shen Qing. At the moment, the two of them were about the same height.

Mr. Fujii spotted the problem. "Don't use your wrist strength. Drive your power through the back leg pushing off the ground. Let your chest pull your shoulder, your shoulder drive your elbow, and finally use your fingers to snap the ball out at release."

Kōshū was highly coordinated. Being uncoordinated meant knowing in your head what you should do, yet having your limbs refuse to obey. That required a great deal of repetitive training to lock the movement into place. The opposite was when the mind understood, and the body immediately followed.

So after a few pitches, Kōshū's pitching motion became far smoother than before. His velocity rose to around 120, but he did not hit anyone. Though he was a little wilder than at 110, he could still throw properly into the glove. Led by the catcher, Kōshū worked his way through all four corners.

"Not bad," Hayakawa said as he stood and returned the ball, cautiously praising the pitcher to Mr. Fujii.

"Mm." Mr. Fujii nodded, stopping the pitching session. Facing Shen Qing, he said, "Just as you said, Kōshū-kun does indeed possess considerable talent for pitching. We're very happy to accept your child."

"Next, I'll take you, Kōshū-kun, and Sasaki-kun on a tour of the facilities. Grandma Hazuki from the logistics department will explain the club rules to you."

Even on a holiday afternoon, many children were still practicing tirelessly under the coaches' guidance. Everywhere they went was lively.

"We currently have around fifty-six players, fifteen of whom are under twelve. Including Coach Ninomiya, we have eight coaches and four logistics staff. Our facilities include an outdoor baseball field, an indoor Bullpen, and a small Indoor Practice Field..."

Kōshū listened distractedly, his hand unconsciously clenching twice. What flashed through his mind was the smile beneath that mask. So that's the team's catcher?

I wasn't prepared enough. Yesterday, I was frantically saving research materials from all sorts of places. I hope to fill in the gaps during the National Day holiday.

The club has fifty-six children because fifty-six ethnic groups are fifty-six flowers. The author really had no idea what to do~

Also, thank you to everyone who commented. I'm not writing into the void, and your support has encouraged me greatly.