Summer in Nagano was hot and slow until the trip that changed everything.
We were headed to Tokyo for something special.
A real MLB exhibition game at the Tokyo Dome.
Not on TV. Not on some old highlight reel.
Live.
Our parents, seeing how deep baseball had already rooted in our lives, surprised us with the tickets. It was a warm August morning when we packed into the train, bento boxes in our bags, jerseys on our backs, and stars in our eyes.
Sawamura Eijun's POV
The Tokyo Dome was huge.
I'd seen it on screen a dozen times, but being there, standing beneath its towering ceiling, was like walking into a dream.
The field was perfect. The crowd was massive. The energy? Off the charts.
"This is…" I whispered.
Souta stood beside me, just as stunned. "Yeah."
The teams took the field, one from New York, one from Los Angeles. Two powerhouses. Two starting batteries with MLB legends behind the plate and on the mound.
Every pitch was fast. Sharp. Clean. Every call from the catcher was like a whisper between warriors. I could feel it. The connection.
And when the starting pitcher from New York threw a slider that clipped the corner barely visible and the catcher caught it like it was scripted, the entire stadium roared.
I leaned forward in my seat, fists clenched.
That's it. That's what I want to do.
Souta Fushimi's POV
I couldn't look away.
The way the catcher moved before each pitch shifting his weight, signaling something only the pitcher could understand and the pitcher responding, adjusting, trusting.
Pitch after pitch. Frame after frame.
It wasn't just talent. It was chemistry. Precision. Trust.
I turned to Eijun, still wide-eyed.
"You know, Eijun," I said softly, heart racing with clarity, "the best pitches... they're not just thrown."
He looked at me.
"They're works of art," I continued, "produced by the pitcher and the catcher working as one."
I smiled big, honest and full of belief.
Eijun stared at me for a second, then broke into the biggest grin I'd ever seen.
"Yeah!" he said. "They really are."
Right there, in the middle of a roaring stadium, we weren't just two kids watching baseball.
We were a future battery, watching our future unfold.
After the Game – Tokyo Streets
We walked beneath neon signs and the buzz of the city. Still talking about pitches, signs, defensive shifts.
Riku and Kazuki trailed behind us, both smiling like they just seen something they didn't expect.
"They've found their spark," Kazuki said.
"They're chasing it already," Riku replied. "This trip lit a fire."
Back in the hotel room, lying in our futons with the AC humming, Eijun turned to me.
"Someday… let's play in a stadium like that. Together."
I didn't even need to think.
"We will."