(Eijun's POV)
Jack's alarm goes off in my head, and I groan, opening my eyes to that obnoxious sound.
*Jack, in the nicest way possible, thank you—but that sound is so annoying,* I grumble, climbing down the ladder and heading to the shared bathroom.
A splash of cold water wakes me up fast. I brush my teeth, dry my face, and pull on my practice uniform.
*Jack, it's a 5 km run today again, right?* I ask mentally.
"Yes, Eijun. It is," he replies calmly.
I nod, slipping out of the dorm room quietly so I don't wake Mochi-senpai or Masuko-senpai. The hallway's still dark as I head outside toward Field A, but I stop by the vending machine first to grab a bottle of water.
Stretching a little, I spot my favorite training partner.
"TYRE-KUN!" I yell, sprinting toward it and looping the rope around my waist while laughing.
The run starts with a light jog. The familiar tug of the tire feels perfect.
*Ah… I missed this.*
At the 2.5 km mark, I take a short break—just enough to sip some water and catch my breath—before picking up the pace again.
That's when I hear it.
"Sawamura."
That voice. My whole body tenses before I even turn around.
I spin and snap into a salute. "BOSS! What can this Sawamura Eijun do for you?!"
Boss sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sawamura, you're going to burn out before morning practice at this rate."
I gasp dramatically, then grin wide. "Not possible, Boss! You've seen my body yourself—it's perfectly conditioned! I'd feel restless if I didn't do something, so I settled on just a 5 km run each morning instead of my full routine!" I wave my hands as I explain.
I swear I catch the ghost of a smirk on his face before he turns away.
(Kataoka's POV)
*This boy is going to be the death of me.*
Listening to his explanation, I can't believe these words are coming out of a fifteen-year-old's mouth. I suppress a smirk and signal for him to stand beside me. He sprints over—tire and all.
"Sawamura," I start, "Miyuki told me you only worked on your left arm yesterday?"
He scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, Boss. We got distracted during practice and only worked on left-arm pitching. We realized it at lunch, so we were gonna work on my right arm during individual practice after I showed Miyuki my training schedule—but he walked in while I was analyzing a game, and, uh… we got distracted again."
I sigh. *Of course they did.*
"You'll work with Miyuki after school for pitching. I'll watch and stand in the batter's box. For morning practice, focus on fielding. That's still your weakness."
He gasps, looking genuinely offended.
"BOSS! I've gotten better!" he protests, grinning. "I bet I can keep up with some second and third years now! It's not perfect but—this, this is important, Boss—this Sawamura Eijun's muscle memory has gotten better!" He's practically bouncing in place.
I chuckle quietly. "Alright, we'll see if that's true. I'll be watching. See you later."
As I head back to my office, I can't help shaking my head.
Inside, Takashima's already sitting on the sofa.
"Takashima," I sigh, "that recruit of yours is going to be the death of me."
She smirks. "Told you. Trouble-maker—but worth it. What'd he do this time?"
"He said he can keep up with the second and third years in fielding," I say dryly. "How did he actually do during the skills test?"
She flips open a notebook. "Pitcher fielding—grounders to the mound: five for five clean. Bunts: four for five. Covering first: perfect. Then left field—dive catches: three for five. Grounders: five for five. Pop flies: four for five. Honestly? Even if he weren't a pitcher, I'd put him on the first string."
I nod slowly. "And his batting?"
That grin of hers widens, which makes my eyebrow twitch.
"120 mph—three home runs, all on target. 130 mph—same result. 140 mph—again, all three perfect. At 150 mph, first time ever, only needed one pitch to find the timing: deep left grounder, center fence hit, shallow right grounder. All fastballs. Honestly? He could bat cleanup, Kataoka."
My eyes widen. I let out a long sigh, leaning back in my chair.
"Takashima, what do we even do with him? He's ahead of most third years. He's wearing a second-year shirt. Was he like this when you scouted him?"
She shakes her head. "Tesshin… when I scouted him, he only had a moving fastball—max 135 km/h. His form wasn't stable. Could only bunt. I scouted him for his potential and his heart. His team couldn't even catch pop flies, but he kept pitching and encouraging them anyway."
I freeze.
"I scouted him and toured him two days later," she continues. "He learned that current form and mastered seventy-five percent control on his four-seamer in those two days."
I just stare for a moment.
"If you hadn't scouted him," I say quietly, "and he'd joined another school in our region… we'd be screwed."
She nods in agreement. "But what do we do now? He plays like a third year but he's a first year."
I sigh. "I don't know. Miyuki's the only one who can catch him, right?"
"Right. Chris or Miyauchi maybe could handle his left, but his right? No one but Miyuki."
"And his batting's already better than Yūki's?"
She nods again.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "You think any of our pitchers could throw to him without mentally breaking?"
"No, sir."
"…Great."
I glance at the clock. "Morning practice time."
We head out to Field A together. Some players are in the cages, others running drills. Kominato and Kuramochi are working the infield.
On the mound, Sawamura's fielding every ball flawlessly.
"Sawamura—left field!" I call.
"Yes, Boss!" he shouts back before sprinting over. He fields everything there just as cleanly.
An hour and a half later, we break for breakfast.
(Eijun's POV)
I eat fast, wash up at the bathhouse, and change into my school uniform.
Classes start with introductions, then math. I glance at the board—already know the material—so I lay my head on my desk and take a nap.
(Third Person POV)
"Oi, Sawamura Eijun! No sleeping in class!" the teacher snaps.
"Sir, he's on the baseball team—on a scholarship, theres no point," one student pipes up.
"Kanemaru, you're on the team too, right? Is training that bad?" another asks.
Kanemaru shrugs from the back. "It's different for us. First years just do conditioning. Sawamura's already on the first string."
The class erupts into whispers.
(Eijun's POV)
I wake up at the end of class, shuffle to the next one, and… sleep again. Same for the third.
When lunch finally comes, I grab my tray, spot Harucchi and Furuya sitting together, and grin as I slide in beside Harucchi.
"Harucchi!" I chirp.
He turns with a small smile. "Ah, Eijun-kun. How were your lessons?"
I rub the back of my neck, laughing sheepishly. "I… might've slept through all of them."
"Eijun-kun, that's not good," Harucchi sighs, though there's amusement in his eyes.
"It's fine, Harucchi," I grin, stuffing food in my mouth. "for tests, i can guess anyway!"
We talk and laugh through lunch, the three of us chatting until the bell rings.
After lunch, we all head back to class for the afternoon sessions. I try—really try—to stay awake this time… but the moment the teacher starts talking, my head drops onto my arms again.
By the time school ends, I'm the first one out of the building.
I change into my Seidō uniform in record time and jog toward Field A. The late afternoon sun paints the dirt a warm orange. The moment I step onto the field, I spot Miyuki Kazuya standing near the dugout, tossing a ball in one hand.
"Oi, Miyuki Kazuya!" I yell, jogging over with a grin.
He raises an eyebrow. "You really can't say my name without shouting, can you?"
I stop in front of him, hands on hips. "Nope! It's how I say hi!"
He snorts. "Coach said we're working together after school. You ready, Sawamura?"
"Born ready!" I beam, rolling my shoulders.
"Good. He's watching from the batter's box."
I glance toward the mound—Boss stands there, bat in hand, expression unreadable.
My grin doesn't falter. *Perfect, jack use all left arm pitching skills.*
"Understood" Jack replies.
(Kataoka's POV)
From the batter's box, I watch as Sawamura steps onto the mound, rolling the baseball in his palm. His posture is calm, focused—but his eyes… they burn.
Miyuki crouches, tapping his mitt once.
"Let's start with the left," I say.
Sawamura nods, sets, and winds up.
*Whoosh*
The fastball snaps into Miyuki's mitt like a gunshot.
Miyuki whistles softly. "150."
"Again," I say.
Second pitch—four-seamer, low and inside. Perfect.
"151," Miyuki calls out.
I can feel the pressure radiating off the boy even from here. Each pitch is sharper, more confident than the last. His form—identical from start to finish—no wasted motion.
After 12 throws, all his pitches, I step out of the box. "Switch arms."
(Eijun's POV)
I nod, shaking out my left shoulder before switching gloves. My right arm feels lighter, faster, hungrier.
*Alright, Jack—use all right arm pitching skills.*
"Understood," he replies.
I grip the ball, exhale, and throw.
The sound echoes across the field
*BANG*
Miyuki's mitt doesn't even move. He blinks. "That was 162."
I grin. "you know my right arm's faster, glad you caught it this time"
Boss crosses his arms, voice low. "Keep going."
Seven more pitches. Each one faster, sharper, heavier. My control's not perfect, but close—maybe ninety percent of what my left has.
On the last one, I go all out.
*Whoosh*
*BANG!*
The entire field falls silent for a second.
"165," Miyuki says quietly, eyes wide behind his mask.
Boss lowers the bat slowly. "…Enough."
(Kataoka's POV)
I exhale, still feeling the weight of those pitches in my chest.
He jogs over, grinning like a child who just got praised for acing a test.
"So, Boss, what'd you think?" he asks, towel slung around his neck.
I meet his gaze. "Sawamura, your right arm is dangerous so is your left arm. If you keep that up without proper management, you'll destroy your shoulder before summer."
His grin softens but doesn't fade. "Don't worry, Boss. I know my limits. I'm tracking my progress and training."
I sigh. "Just remember—no matter how strong you get, you're still part of a team now and your a first year. You don't need to carry everything yourself."
For a moment, he just stares at me. Then he nods, serious. "Understood, Boss."
(Miyuki's POV)
He's walking beside me, humming some nonsense tune while spinning a baseball in his hand.
"You know," I say, "I've caught a lot of pitchers, Sawamura—but no one's ever made my mitt feel like it might crack."
He grins. "That's a compliment, right?"
"Maybe." I glance at him. "Why did you learn to pitch with both arms?"
"I don't want my team to ever lose just because my arm gives out."
There's no arrogance in his voice—just pure conviction.
I smirk. "You're weird, you know that?"
"I'll take that as a compliment too!"
I shake my head, hiding my smile. *Yeah… this kid's trouble. But he's the kind of trouble we need.*
(Eijun's POV)
By the time we finish practice, the sky's already turning dark. I flop onto the grass, staring up at the stars as the cool breeze brushes against my skin.
*Jack, how'd I do?*
"good, your control with your left was perfect, with your right it was better than the other day"
I grin. *Good. Tomorrow, we'll make it even better.*
The stars blur as my eyes grow heavy. I don't even realize I've fallen asleep until I hear Kuramochi yelling from the dorm entrance.
"Sawamura! Dinner, you idiot!"
I jolt upright. "COMING!"
And I sprint toward the cafeteria, laughing the whole way.