2

As Eita passed by a pair of high school girls in the hallway, he could practically feel their stares. They had been talking about some kind of photography club merger, but that petered out, leaving uncomfortable silence.

Eita did his best to stand up straight, fixing the visitor tag around his neck to be more noticeable.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just stopping by Kashiogawa High School, the place he would only be attending for the final trimester, to make introductions with his father.

After getting a full run-down with the vice principal, Eita’s father had left for work. That left Eita at the school alone. The vice principal had told him to feel free to walk around on his own, so he was more or less making good on that offer.

“S’that… a transfer student?”

“Dunno.”

Eita quickly escaped up the stairs from the voices talking about him behind his back. He began unbuttoning his gakuran uniform as he climbed up the steps.

His gakuran practically made him an alien to all the students wearing the school-issued blazers.

He stripped off his gakuran, hoping to get rid of his feeling of discomfort alongside it. It was a bit chilly for his simple white undershirt, even indoors, but it was a lot better than the idea of being gawked at by every student he passed.

He made his way up to the third floor, finding himself in a hallway almost exactly like the one he left.

Dull, off-white tiles were blandly lit by regularly spaced fluorescent lights. An open sliding door revealed a classroom behind it. There was a desk with doodles carved into it, chairs with chipped edges, and chalkboards covered in decorative illustrations.

Not much was different compared to the school Eita had just left in Fukuoka. He’d seen similar sights dozens of times before. But he felt completely to the contrary, lingering dread slowing his steps as if he was sneaking into an unfamiliar school.

Eita entered the open door into the marked class 1, almost feeling like he was out on some daring adventure. The class would’ve been full of people in his grade. Nobody was inside at the moment, but one of the window seats had an open notebook, entrance exam reference book, mechanical pencil, and eraser sitting atop the desk.

Someone was still hanging around.

The vice principal had mentioned somewhere in his speech that around half of the student body of Kashiogawa High was aiming for college. Some 10% of those students took entrance exams for colleges that were reputedly difficult to enter, and the man had reported with a smile that there were several successful candidates every year.

In reference to Japan’s standard deviation, the high school placed just above average. It wasn’t exactly a top-tier prep school, but it was balanced enough to provide an environment where students who wanted to succeed, could.

The English textbook left on the classroom desk provided study questions for entrance exams of rather elitist universities.

Eita decided to make himself scarce before the book’s owner got back. He definitely didn’t need to get any more strange looks.

All he needed to do was graduate. He was only going to be around for the final trimester, anyway. In fact, adjustment for exam prep made attendance optional for third-years starting in February, so he was only going to be around for about a month. That was why he hadn’t even bothered to order a uniform.

He would just spend his days in peace, careful to not make any waves before graduating. That was Eita’s goal at Kashiogawa High School. He already had his recommendation to university, so he could worry about starting a new life there in April.

As it was, he had looked around the school long enough.

Eita started down the stairs, planning on heading home when he heard a high-pitched clang in the distance. It was a rather familiar sound. He’d heard it plenty of times while part of the baseball team in middle school. It was the ping of a metal bat hitting a baseball.

It made Eita think of an old friend.

Back when Eita had told him he was moving to Fukuoka, he had said, “I guess that means we’ll meet again at the Koshien tournament.” The boy’s name was Souma Haruto. They were close enough for Eita just to call him “Haruto.”

After the move, the boys had kept in touch for a while on LINE. But over time, they messaged less and less, and after six months in Fukuoka, they stopped altogether.

At first, Eita had felt like he could drop a message any time. But when summer vacation started, a week went by since their last conversation. Then two weeks. By the time a month had gone by, Eita was too scared to even try and send a stamp as a joke.

He never knew what Haruto might think if he sent any random message. That indecision led up to the point that he hadn’t even told Haruto he was moving back in town. He still couldn’t bring himself to send a LINE message. It had been three and a half years since the last one.

He didn’t even know if Haruto had kept up with baseball in high school.

Well, either way, he’s probably dropped out by now.

They had been classmates, meaning Haruto should have been a third-year student. It would have been appropriate for him to drop out of the club by summer.

As Eita thought about all that, he somehow found himself walking towards the school sports fields.

“Maaan, do we gotta go to cram schooooool?”

“No time to complain.”

“Fine then, Rikuo, let’s run!”

As Eita headed outside, two boys came dashing up the stairs that came from the sports grounds. One of them was around five-foot-three, the same as Eita, and had a head of hair resembling a cup of flan, brown at the roots and blonde the rest of the way down. The other boy was almost six feet tall, and had glasses on. They glanced towards Eita for a moment, but then blasted past him as if they were in a competitive race.

“Hey- c’mon!!” The smaller boy desperately chased after the taller boy, the one he called Rikuo, but he was being left in the dust.

As the two boys made their raucous exit, Eita headed down the stairs towards the sports fields they had come from.

The little town was west of Kamakura city, surrounded on the north and south by both small hills and low mountains, with the Prefectural Route 32 making up its border. More natural hills abounded in the areas further away from the prefectural road. Even the school grounds were on a slope, so the schoolyard was a level lower than the main school building.

It appeared that sports clubs had a day off, or were perhaps attending a practice game somewhere else, because there was only a single male student out on the yard, wearing a sports uniform rather than the school blazer.

He was all alone under the winter sky in such a wide area, so he really stood out.

The boy took a full swing with his bat at a ball he had gently tossed in the air. He was trying to bat all by himself.

Sweat coated the boy from all his exercise. Just from effort alone, his swing should have hit a home run, but it was nothing more than a mediocre fly ball that happened to land near Eita as he walked down the first base line. It rolled up to Eita where he had stopped to watch. Too close to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Eita reluctantly picked up the well-worn ball.

“Ah, sorry ‘bout that,” the boy said in a clear, loud voice befitting a sports club member as he jogged over. His hair was neatly cropped with shaved sides. He was also tall enough to warrant Eita looking up to meet his eyes.

The boy stared back.

“…”

“…”

They both blinked several times, the silence thickening. Something about the way the boy rested the bat on his shoulder felt familiar to Eita.

His body reacted before his mind. A restless tingle snaked throughout him, locking him in place.

After a slight delay, his mind finally caught on. That nostalgic face. That familiar face. But that recognition only served to keep Eita silent, as even though he reflexively opened his mouth, he couldn’t say anything.

The other boy spoke first.

“Eita?”

The sound was familiar. Naturally, it was his name, so of course he had heard it before. But it wasn’t just the name. It was the voice, and how the boy said his name.

“…Haruto?”

By the time Eita could finally get a word out, he was certain. It had been a long time since he’d spoken the name of his old friend. But that simple joy wasn’t what took over his mind. Confusion flooded him instead.

But that was understandable. Eita hadn’t expected to meet him. He was completely unprepared for the sudden surprise.

“Been a while.”

“…Guess so.” Eita rolled the ball around in his hands, searching for the right thing to say. But it wasn’t like the baseball would have the answer he was looking for written on it.

“It’s been, what, three years since your move?”

“Four, actually.”

Three and a half of those years had gone by without a single LINE message.

“Really? Four years?”

“Yup, four.”

Each minor exchange felt like it lingered in the air around them. They were only six feet apart, but an immeasurable distance separated them.

How did they even have conversations in middle school?

“So… did you come back?”

“Kinda.”

What kind of tempo and rhythm did their old, pointless talks take on?

“What does ‘kinda’ mean?”

“I came back,” Eita replied awkwardly, desperately searching for a memory that could guide him.

“Well, guess you’re pitcher, then.”

“Wait, what?” Eita asked reflexively.

Haruto had already turned around, walking back towards the batter’s box. “You were pretty good at it before. Let’s go.”

“That was before…”

Eita walked over to the pitcher’s mound. He picked up the glove left in the basket of baseballs, slipping it on. He hadn’t felt that sensation on his left hand in a long time. Not that it made him want to pitch any more.

“Don’t go easy on me.” Holding up his bat, Haruto called towards the mound with practiced ease.

“Dunno if that’d make a difference.”

The mound seemed so far from home plate after such a long time off the field. Haruto was about 60 feet out, and even though Eita had been trying to respond, he’d forgotten how to project his voice. He’d probably have been able to pull it off if he hadn’t been so averse to club activities for the last few years.

“Huh? You say something?” Haruto shouted back.

“Nothing,” Eita replied, making sure to raise his voice.

“Alright, then go ahead.” Haruto motioned for Eita to go ahead and pitch.

Eita couldn’t back out any more. Still not sure how he felt about it all, Eita swung his arm back then threw. He didn’t know if he would have enough control, but the ball neatly sailed into the strike zone.

Haruto let out a full swing, practically uppercutting the bat.

Unfortunately, the only sound was the swishing of wind. Still, it was an impressive swing.

“Geez, you pitch slow,” Haruto yelled to the mound with a sarcastic smile.

“I kinda guesstimated that one. I haven’t pitched in a while.”

“What, did’ja quit baseball?”

Eita had been reaching for a new ball, and his hand froze at the sudden, direct question. “I didn’t really have the guts to try and join a club in the last trimester of the second year of middle school.” Eita suddenly became acutely aware of how freezing cold the ball in his hand was.

“What about high school?”

“Hard to get back into something after a long break.”

“Really now?” Haruto asked, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Really.” Eita threw a second pitch, hoping to throw off his guilt with it.

Haruto gave another full-power swing. This time, the metal bat hit the ball, sending it soaring into the middle of the right side of the field. A fly ball to right field.

“Crap, I split a callus.”

Haruto stared at his palm as Eita reached for another baseball. It may have been the middle of winter, but Haruto was forced to wipe the sweat streaming from his forehead. He had to have been swinging for a long time.

“So what’s all this?” Eita called out, finally feeling as though he’d found his moment to ask.

“What’s all what?” Haruto looked up, the confusion evident on his face. Their lost intimacy was really slowing down the conversation.

“Club activities are over in the summer, right?”

Each response between them was laden with an awkward pause. But given that he was seeing his friend for the first time in four years, Eita figured that was appropriate.

“Well, this isn’t about club. It’s more like… a prayer?”

“That doesn’t really explain anything.”

“Sorry, let’s take a break.” Haruto stepped back, heading for the benches set up on the side of the first base line. Eita didn’t see any point in standing around on the pitcher’s mound, so he sat down on the same bench as Haruto, leaving about a two-person length between them.

Eita glanced over at Haruto as the boy nursed a burst callus on his hand. Haruto had always been tall, but the last four years had really solidified the differences in their builds, as Haruto now towered over him.

“…”

With nothing to say, Eita silently swayed back and forth to stave off the chill. But the silence was broken by a brass band playing from the school building. Eita recognized the song as a cheer song for baseball players at bat.

“This song makes me think of the summer tournament,” Haruto mumbled bitterly, as if in self-deprecation. “And Hashimoto from Nankaidai Sagami. His slider was insane. You wouldn’t believe how fast his fastball was, either.”

“So you went up against the Koshien champions in the preliminaries. That’s incredible.”

“I couldn’t even get a piece of that ball. I couldn’t do anything. Makes me laugh just thinking about it. And to think we’re both high schoolers.”

Despite his remarks, Haruto was far from laughing. He stared intensely at his blood-clotted hands. They were proof of how much he swung the bat. Proof of his hits. His whole palm was yellow and callused from his hard work and effort.

Eita had to look away as guilt overwhelmed him.

He didn’t keep up with baseball after the move to Fukuoka. Four years had been plenty of time for all his calluses and blisters to heal over.

With nowhere else to look, Eita ended up staring at the rocks underneath his feet.

“I had thought I would be able to do more. But hot damn, I’m all sweaty.” Seeming to get a bit embarrassed over his serious tonal shift, Haruto dramatically started wiping sweat off his forehead.

“So you’re out here drenched in sweat, breaking your calluses for… what, revenge? You think a home run will make up for what happened in the summer?”

“I’m not really a revenge guy, so no. I just… didn’t know what to do, so I had to try something.”

Eita glanced at Haruto out of the corner of his eye to see the other boy giving a big, toothy grin. He looked like a little kid.

Something about it was hilarious, and Eita tried keeping it in, but eventually he burst out laughing.

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Oh, I just remembered that’s the kinda guy you are.”

The kind of guy to say something really embarrassing and somehow pull it off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” At first, Haruto looked ready to complain. But he didn’t offer any opposition, just joining in with a laugh of his own. And of course he did. He was just that kind of guy. That made Eita start laughing all over again.

After another fit of laughter, Eita stood up first. He rolled his shoulders, walking back towards the pitcher’s mound.

“Eita?” Haruto asked.

“I don’t have too many pitches in me, so we’ll just have to do one at-bat.”

Besides, with those hands it’d be hard for Haruto to swing much longer than that anyway.

“A competition? I’m down.” Haruto stood up, heading for the batter’s box.

Eita checked his foot position on the mound, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Slowly lifting his eyelids, he focused not on the batter, but the strike zone. He imagined a catcher’s mitt right behind it.

He swung his arm back slowly and raised his left foot, remembering how it felt in middle school. Then, as he stepped forwards, he put all the strength in his body into the fingertips of his right hand, and from there into the baseball.

He threw as hard as he could, and the ball soared straight into the upper strike zone.

Haruto completely whiffed his swing.

“That was fast, dude!” He interjected, clearly implying that Eita had been slacking off earlier.

Eita ignored Haruto and worked on getting his next ball from the basket. He tried a few out until he found one that fit comfortably in his grip.

“Guess that’s the kinda guy you are,” Haruto said with a hint of amusement, before his expression completely hardened over. He adjusted his grip on the bat and fixed his stance.

Eita threw a curveball for the second pitch, taking Haruto by surprise. Thrown off-time, Haruto only got another swing and a miss. But he didn’t offer any objections about the curveball, instead only looking more excited for the next pitch.

Two strikes down. One more and Eita would win.

Eita already felt his right shoulder complaining after the two pitches. Pitching at full power after such a long break was wearing him down quick. After a brief flare of shame, he just let the thought of the next pitch take over.

He hooked his index and middle fingers around the seams of the ball. A fastball grip. Without a moment of hesitation, he let it loose with all he had, trying to mimic the first pitch.

The ball darted towards the inside of the strike zone.

Haruto’s eyes flashed with a glint of surprise before tucking his body inwards for a more compact form. He swung the bat with spectacular force, as if reeling the ball into the sweet spot.

A brilliant, high-pitched ping pierced through the clear winter sky.

The white ball soared high into the air.

Eita turned around to follow its path, his mouth hanging open. The ball flew to left field and over into the neighboring soccer field, landing on the chalked grass.

“Was that a… home run?” Not even the guy that hit it could believe what happened.

“No…”

“That’s a home run, I don’t care how you measure it!”

But Eita wasn’t trying to sell Haruto short. “I don’t care how you measure it, that’s an out-of-the-park home run.”

“AAALLRIIIIIGHT!!!” Haruto roared, pumping his fists into the air. His incredulous yell even reached the school building.

Mio opened the classroom window, and the boys’ celebratory yells could be heard all the way up in classroom 3-1. Haruto was celebrating on the pitcher’s mound like he had just won a great victory. He even jumped on top of Eita so forcefully that the two of them ended up collapsed together on the ground.

But that just got them to cheer even harder.

“That really is Izumi… I never heard he was coming back.”

The cold outside air turned Mio’s breath white.

She glanced at a photo selected on her phone which Ena had sent her entitled, “the mysterious transfer student”. She couldn’t tell if he had styled his hair or just had really bad bedhead. He was just under average height for a boy. Pitching had sharpened his typically sleepy expression into a serious focus that Mio hadn’t seen since middle school. She knew at a glance that it was Izumi Eita.

The two boys were still laughing and cheering together. They laid down on their backs, not even caring about how dirty their clothes would get. That just made their voices carry even farther.

“Some of us have exams to worry about, and can’t spend all our time laughing away. That’s kinda annoying.”

Mio’s mouth naturally curved in amusement even as she complained.

“They’re just so annoying.”