Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when Ryoma Tachibana, with his usual nonchalant grin, led Toujou to the school's baseball field after class.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden hue over Hikari Gakuen Elementary.

Despite the fading light, the baseball field was still buzzing with activity.

A group of older kids were finishing up their practice, some on the diamond while others were chatting by the sidelines.

Toujou glanced around, feeling the weight of the bat and glove in his hands.

His muscles were sore from the past few days of practice, but the fire in his chest—his growing sense of purpose—kept him from faltering.

His eyes wandered to Ryoma, who had been unusually quiet since they left the park earlier.

"You've been holding out on me, Ryoma," Toujou said, breaking the silence. "You didn't tell me your grandfather was the coach here."

Ryoma's smile widened, a mix of pride and teasing. "I didn't think it mattered. I mean, who'd expect the old man to be the coach of a school team like this?"

They reached the dugout, where a figure was sitting by the bench, his weathered hands resting on a cane.

The old man had a gruff demeanor, but his eyes, sharp and calculating, were immediately drawn to Toujou.

His hair was silver, and the lines on his face suggested a life well-lived, full of stories that were yet to be told.

"This is my grandfather, Ichiro Tachibana," Ryoma announced, giving the man a slight bow. "Grandpa, this is Toujou Hideaki. I told you about him."

Coach Ichiro's gaze shifted to Toujou, who stood a bit nervously under the older man's intense stare.

There was something about Ichiro's presence—calm yet imposing—that made Toujou feel both nervous and eager.

"Hideaki, huh?" Coach Ichiro said, his voice low but carrying a sense of authority. "I've heard about you. Ryoma's been talking your ear off, I see."

Toujou nodded, unsure of how to respond. "I'm just trying to improve," he said quietly.

Coach Ichiro studied him for a moment, before giving a slow nod. "You've got the look of someone who's serious about it. I can see that you've been working hard, but what I want to know is... are you willing to push past your limits? Because that's what it's going to take."

Toujou felt a flicker of excitement. "I'm ready."

Coach Ichiro chuckled softly, a rasp in his voice. "Good. Then we'll see what you've got. Ryoma, take a seat. It's time for Hideaki and me to have a proper talk."

As Ryoma moved to the sidelines, Toujou felt a twinge of anticipation. The moment had finally arrived—his first real coaching session, not just with Ryoma, but under someone who had seen generations of baseball players come and go. Someone who had been through the grind himself.

---

Coach Ichiro stood up slowly, his body slightly stiff, but his movements deliberate and precise.

He gestured to the mound, where the dust from the previous game still lingered in the air. "First things first, Hideaki. Show me your pitch. Don't hold back. I want to see your form."

Toujou, now standing in front of Ichiro, hesitated for just a moment before he took his stance on the rubber.

He gripped the ball firmly, remembering his training over the past weeks—his focus on accuracy, control, and experimenting with spin.

He tried to relax his tense shoulder as he threw the ball, a fastball aimed at the far side of the strike zone.

Coach Ichiro's eyes tracked the ball as it sped toward him. His sharp gaze didn't miss a thing. The ball hit the ground before the catcher could even move.

Coach Ichiro didn't flinch. Instead, he nodded slowly. "Your control needs work. But there's something there. You've got potential."

Toujou nodded, his hands already sweating despite the cool air. He'd expected to be criticized, but not so bluntly. "I've been practicing my control, but... it's not perfect yet."

"That's fine," Coach Ichiro said, his voice calm but firm. "What I want to focus on first is your stance. You're standing too upright. You need to use your legs more—generate power from your lower body, not just your arm. A pitcher's strength comes from their core, not just the throw itself."

Toujou shifted his stance as Coach Ichiro suggested, bending his knees slightly and adjusting his posture.

He threw another pitch, this time a bit more controlled, a fastball that zipped through the air with a bit more stability.

Ichiro's eyes glinted with approval. "Better. That's the way. But it's not just about power, Hideaki. You've got the speed, I can tell. What makes a pitcher dangerous isn't just how hard they throw—it's how well they can manipulate the ball. You need to learn to control your spin."

Toujou's heart skipped a beat. Spin. He had noticed it himself—how sometimes his pitches would curve slightly, or move unpredictably in the air—but he hadn't yet figured out how to harness it deliberately.

And just thought that it feels a bit faster when he increase the spin of the ball while it looks slow when he lesses the spin and pressure of his throw.

"You have a natural gift for spin," Coach Ichiro continued. "I can see it already. But right now, it's inconsistent. What you need is precision. The ability to dictate how the ball moves—not just let it do its own thing."

Toujou nodded, more determined than ever. "I'll work on it."

Ichiro studied him for a moment, before turning his gaze toward Ryoma, who was watching from the sidelines. "Ryoma, go grab the old catcher's mitt from the shed. We're going to need it."

As Ryoma dashed off, Ichiro turned back to Toujou. "Your fastball will be your bread and butter, Hideaki. Your spin is important, but it's your speed that will keep batters on their toes. That's what makes you unique. If you can master both, you'll stand out in the field. But remember—never sacrifice control for speed."

Toujou's chest swelled with excitement. "I understand."

---

Ryoma returned with the mitt, and Ichiro took his position behind the plate.

The session began in earnest, with Coach Ichiro guiding Toujou through the fundamentals of his stance, mechanics, and balance.

With each pitch, Ichiro gave feedback, refining his form and helping him increase his speed without sacrificing control.

"You've got the body for this," Coach Ichiro said, his eyes narrowing with focus as he caught a pitch. "But you need to learn to harness your strength. It's not just about throwing hard—it's about efficiency. Every pitch should be deliberate."

Toujou focused onRyoma's grandfather's advice, his body growing fatigued but his mind sharp.

He had never felt so alive, so connected to his purpose. With Ichiro's guidance, he felt like he was unlocking parts of his potential he hadn't known existed.

After the session, Coach Ichiro clapped him on the back, a rare smile crossing his face. "You've got the makings of a great pitcher, Hideaki. I'm glad I decided to take you on."

Toujou felt a warmth spread through him, a deep sense of gratitude toward the man who had not only guided him in the fundamentals but also given him the confidence to believe in his abilities.

---

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the field, Coach Ichiro, Ryoma and Toujou walked back toward the school together.

"Don't get too comfortable, Hideaki,"Coach Ichiro said with a chuckle. "This is just the beginning. But I can tell—you've got what it takes." Ryoma bid goodbye to Toujou and followed his grandfather.

Toujou's heart raced with excitement as he looked up at his coach and the man who would help him realize his dreams. He had come a long way from his solitary training, but this was just the start.

And he was ready.

To be continued...