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The sun dipped low over the skyline of New York City, casting a golden hue that shimmered off the towering skyscrapers like polished jewels. For most, the city's urban symphony—honking cars, the chatter of pedestrians, the distant wail of sirens—was an exhilarating reminder of its energy and life. But for Eijun and Eiko Sawamura, freshly uprooted from their quiet countryside home in Nagano, the cacophony felt foreign, a stark contrast to the familiar serenity of green fields and clear blue skies they had left behind. The vast, noisy city felt worlds away from the peaceful rhythms of their former life.
“Look, Ko-chan! Look at all the big buildings!” Eijun’s voice rang out with a mix of awe and trepidation. His eyes sparkled with curiosity, though beneath the surface, there was a flicker of uncertainty. He clutched his brother's hand, his small fingers squeezing just a bit tighter than usual. Eijun had always been the bolder of the two, but here, surrounded by the towering structures of Manhattan, even his adventurous spirit wavered.Eiko, his twin, stayed close by, his wide brown eyes fixed on the towering buildings that loomed overhead. He glanced around nervously, his grip on Eijun's hand tighter still. "I want to go home, Jun," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the hum of the city. "I miss the fields… and our friends…"The mention of home brought a pang of nostalgia. The boys had grown up in a traditional minka , their spacious family house nestled in the rolling countryside of Nagano. The house had stood for generations, with its beautifully gleaming kawara roof tiles, wooden beams, and a wide engawa that overlooked acres of their land. The expansive vineyard was their pride, stretching far beyond the eye could see, where the sweet scent of grapes lingered in the summer air. It had been a playground for the twins and their friends, a vast and familiar world now traded for the compact spaces of city life.Their mother, Kaede, walked a few paces ahead, her steps light yet purposeful, as if she could sense the twins’ growing unease. She turned, her face soft in the warm glow of the fading sun, and knelt down to their level. The city seemed to pause for a moment as she wrapped her arms around them both, her presence a safe harbor amidst the storm of unfamiliarity.“I know, sweetheart,” Kaede said gently, her voice warm with understanding. She drew them close, her embrace firm yet comforting. “It’s okay to miss home. I miss it too. But remember, we’re together. That’s what matters.” Her smile, soft and reassuring, brushed away a hint of her own nostalgia as she kissed the tops of their heads.A few steps behind, their father, Takeshi, ambled along with his usual exuberance, his hearty laughter ringing out as he navigated the bustling sidewalks with clumsy enthusiasm. He strode forward, undeterred by the occasional bump or jostle, his tall frame easily catching the attention of passersby.“Kaede, my love, this city is a marvel!” he called out, rubbing his chin theatrically, his grin wide and infectious.Kaede stood, brushing off her knees, her exasperation barely concealing her affection. “If only you could walk without crashing into every street vendor,” she teased, her voice light yet tinged with amusement. “Honestly, you’re worse than the boys.”
“Come now! We’ve got a new home to see! Besides, we must hurry before I miss my chance to try one of those famous hot dogs!” Takeshi’s excitement bubbled over as he sidestepped a vendor's cart, barely avoiding another collision.

“Otou-chan, what’s a hot dog?” Eijun’s curiosity momentarily distracted him from his unease, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of something new.

Takeshi grinned down at his son, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s something delicious! You’ll love it!” he said, his voice full of confidence.

Eiko, however, was less convinced. “It doesn’t sound like rice balls,” he muttered, a small frown tugging at his lips.

Kaede chuckled, glancing at Eiko with a mother’s knowing look. “You can always try something else if you don’t like it, sweetheart,” she said gently. “But remember, no matter where we are, you two must always stick together. Promise me that?”

“Yes, Okaa-chan,” the twins replied in unison, their voices a little subdued. Eijun, though already itching to explore the new world around him, gave a quick nod, while Eiko clung to the reassurance of his brother's hand.

Kaede gave them both an approving smile, her gaze softening. “Good. Now, stay close. We wouldn’t want to get lost on our first day.”

The family continued their walk toward the towering entrance of their new apartment complex, its gleaming glass façade reflecting the final rays of the setting sun. It was so different from the house they had known back in Nagano. The apartment building felt like the opposite: confined, towering, stacked with countless others just like it, and brimming with the constant noise of the city.

As they stepped inside, Eijun’s eyes widened in wonder at the polished marble floors, the gleaming chrome of the elevator doors, and the flicker of the lights above. Every detail felt larger, brighter, more overwhelming than anything he had ever known.

Eiko, however, stayed close behind, peeking cautiously over his brother’s shoulder, his quiet footsteps a stark contrast to the bustling world outside.

As the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, the world they had known back in Japan seemed farther away than ever.
  
Minutes later, the Sawamura family stepped into their new apartment, a sleek, modern space that perfectly reflected the high-end exterior of the building. The polished hardwood floors gleamed under soft lighting, and the minimalist design, accented with tasteful touches of luxury, gave the room an open, airy feel. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the expansive New York City skyline, where the glittering lights stretched endlessly into the distance. It was worlds away from the sprawling estate they had left behind, but the family had always been well-off, accustomed to a life of comfort and sophistication.

Still, this move was a major shift, one dictated by the family business, which had flourished back in Japan. Now, with a new opportunity to expand internationally, the Sawamuras had come to the U.S. to oversee the next step in their success. Takeshi, who managed their vineyards and agricultural ventures, was leading the charge in establishing their presence in the States. For Eijun and Eiko, it only added to the sense of displacement.

Their grandfather, Eitoku, who had arrived earlier to help settle things, was already busy unpacking boxes in the kitchen. He moved with the careful precision of someone used to handling fragile items, unwrapping delicate dishes that had been brought from their home in Japan. These little touches of familiarity seemed out of place in the glossy, ultra-modern apartment, but they brought a sense of comfort all the same.

“There you are!” boomed a voice from across the room. Jorge Madison, Chris’s father, stood by the windows, his stern face breaking into a wide grin as soon as he saw the twins. “Eijun, Eiko! Welcome to New York!” His voice echoed slightly off the high ceilings as he strode over and scooped the boys into a bear hug that made their worries melt away, if only for a moment.

“Uncle Jorge!” they giggled, their laughter bouncing off the polished surfaces of the room.

Jorge grinned, setting them down gently before stepping aside with a dramatic flourish. “Look who else is here!”

Standing in the center of the living room was their cousin Chris, nearly seven years old and already full of a quiet confidence that the twins always admired. His smile was wide and warm, and his presence—familiar, steady—instantly made the apartment feel less intimidating.

“Chris nii-chan!” they yelled in unison, rushing toward him and nearly knocking him over with their enthusiastic hugs.

“Hey! It’s so good to see you both!” Chris laughed, his soothing voice bringing instant reassurance. Even the twins’ anxious excitement seemed to settle under his steady gaze.

Eiko, always the more cautious of the two, glanced around, taking in the new surroundings. “Where’s Kaori oba-chan?” he asked, peering down the hallways that led to the other rooms in the spacious apartment.

Chris smiled. “Okaa-san’s still at home, making some food to bring over. She’ll be here soon. After you guys get settled, I can show you around the neighborhood. There’s a great park nearby, and we can check it out tomorrow!”

At the mention of the park, Eijun’s eyes brightened. “Yes! But… but what about the big people?” His excitement wavered as he remembered the towering adults they had passed in the streets—strangers who spoke in a language he didn’t understand.

“You mean the other kids?” Chris asked, glancing at Kaede for help.

Kaede knelt beside her sons, her tone gentle but encouraging. “Eijun, Eiko, I know everything feels different here,” she said, her voice soft as she placed a comforting hand on their shoulders. “But Chris will help you talk to the other kids. It might take some time, but you’ll learn. Just be patient, and soon, you’ll be able to make new friends.”

Eiko frowned slightly, his uncertainty still lingering. “But… what if they don’t like us? They speak…” He trailed off, unsure how to express his fear.

“English,” Chris finished for him with a kind smile. He knelt beside the twins, ruffling their hair playfully. “Don’t worry, you’ll learn it too. And you have me, so you won’t be alone.”

“Okay,” the twins mumbled together, though the unease in their voices was hard to miss. The wide-open fields of their family’s vineyard back in Nagano, where they had always felt free and understood, suddenly seemed even farther away. The idea of going to a new daycare where they couldn’t communicate only added to the anxiety.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the apartment, breaking the tension. Eijun, ever the energetic one, jumped up and darted across the hallway. “I’ll get it!” he shouted, fumbling with the handle before yanking open the door.

“Kaori oba-chan!” Eiko cried happily, his face lighting up at the sight of their aunt standing there with baskets of food.

“I can’t believe you’re finally here!” Kaori laughed, bending down to hug the boys. “Look at how big you’ve gotten!”

Kaede smiled in relief as her sister stepped into the room. “Thank you for coming over, Kaori. It’s been a bit overwhelming trying to get everything sorted here,” she admitted, glancing around at the unfamiliar apartment, which, despite its modern luxury, still felt cold and distant compared to their home.

“No problem at all,” Kaori said warmly, placing the baskets on the sleek kitchen counter. The aroma of her homemade food instantly added a touch of comfort to the polished, modern space. “I brought enough for everyone to enjoy. It’s been far too long since we’ve all been together.”

“Far too long,” Kaede agreed, flashing her sister a grateful smile.
Kaori glanced at the three boys, who were already huddled together, whispering excitedly. “Let’s take them to the park tomorrow,” she suggested. “It’s not the countryside, but it’s a good spot for them to run around and explore.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect,” Kaede nodded. “And they should stick close to Chris for now, at least until they find their feet.”

Eitoku, who had been quietly organizing in the kitchen, appeared by their side, a knowing smile on his face. “Worrying won’t change anything, Kaede. Let them explore. They’ve always had each other, and now Chris is here to guide them. Kids are resilient. They’ll adjust, and before you know it, they’ll be causing as much trouble here as they did back home.”

Kaede chuckled, knowing he was right. Despite the challenges of this move—the daunting city, the unfamiliar language—Eijun and Eiko were resilient, and they had each other. The Sawamuras had thrived for generations, the twins, despite their worries, would thrive too.

She watched as the boys, now fully engaged in animated conversation with Chris, began to giggle and plot their next adventure. Eitoku’s words rang true. It wouldn’t be long before they were back to their mischievous selves.
‘Yes,’ Kaede thought, her smile growing as their laughter filled the room, ‘they’ll be causing trouble again in no time at all.’

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The following weeks were a whirlwind of unpacking boxes, directing movers as they navigated the maze of newly ordered furniture and the twins causing havoc while Chris played an unending game of chase. At one point, their mother had turned downright menacing when they nearly shattered a 200-year-old vase, an heirloom passed down through generations. “I told you these two rascals would be causing trouble soon enough,” their grandfather had quipped, only to find himself on the receiving end of a particularly murderous glare.
In the end, they were let off the hook— thanks to Chris promising to watch over them like a hawk and rein in their antics less things got out of hand— not that he stood much of a chance, really. Given the fact that the twins had perfected those irresistible baby seal expressions, meaning he was helpless against their charms.They soon met Liam, a boy their age, and his single mother Isabel, who lived in the apartment across from theirs. Aside from their immediate family, the Madisons, who came by and helped with moving boxes, they were the only neighbors to greet them. And of course, with all the subtlety of elephants in a porcelain shop, the twins immediately roped Liam into playing with them, the language barrier barely slowed them down as they forged an instant friendship, leaving Chris more frazzled than he’d care to admit.
“One of these days,” he muttered after yet another misadventure— this time involving a profuse apology to the elderly lady downstairs, whose porcelain cat they had accidentally knocked over, “you two are going to land yourselves in so much trouble, I won’t be able to bail you out.”

“Why not? You love us to bits and can’t say no,” Eiko declared pompously, sticking his tongue out with a cheeky grin, while Eijun batted his eyelashes for an added effect.
“That wasn’t an invitation to cause more trouble,” Chris replied, thoroughly unimpressed, though he couldn’t deny the dreadful truth—they had him wrapped around their little fingers. ‘I’ll outgrow this,’ he thought with grim determination. ‘They won’t stay small forever, and then their tricks won’t work on me anymore.’ At least, that’s what he told himself.
It came as no surprise that their mother was eternally grateful when the twins were finally accepted into daycare. “At last, I’ll be able to unpack the more delicate items without worrying you’ll break them. Honestly, you two are a handful,” she sighed with an air of dramatic exhaustion. Their father had laughed, adding that they’d now have a chance to burn off some of that extra energy playing with kids their own age, since Chris couldn’t be on babysitting duty forever.

In theory, it sounded good. Like a dream even. In practice, however, Eijun and Eiko were social butterflies— used to making friends with ease back in Japan. Their inability to communicate in full sentences led to a few tearful meltdowns that left both Kaede and Takeshi scrambling to comfort them. Chris, already attending a local private school, had stepped in with some reassuring words.

But if anything, the twins were stubborn to the core. In true Sawamura Twins fashion, they turned learning English into a game. With Chris’s help and plenty of encouragement from their daycare teachers, Eijun and Eiko slowly but surely soaked up the new language. Their innate curiosity and drive to connect with others fuelled them on, and, as kids often do, they learned quickly— picking up sounds, words, and eventually, entire sentences with ease .
  
It all started with an innocent, offhand comment during a playdate, when Chris casually mentioned that he wouldn’t be able to play with them as much next week because he had baseball practice.

“What’s baseball?” came the synchronized question from the twins, eyes wide with curiosity.
Chris froze mid-sentence, blinking at them as if they’d just announced they’d never heard of candy. “What’s—” He stared at them, aghast, as though they’d sprouted extra heads. “What do you mean ‘what’s baseball’?”
Both twins shrugged, genuinely puzzled. Eijun tilted his head. “Is it like soccer?”
Chris gaped at the twins, his mind momentarily short-circuiting. “No! It's not like soccer!” His voice rose with the urgency of someone delivering a world-altering revelation. “You— you don’t know what baseball is?!” He sputtered again, looking between their two identical faces as if trying to detect a joke. But no, they were dead serious, blinking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Baseball is… baseball !” He threw his hands up dramatically, looking around the room as if searching for an explanation that didn’t involve flipping through a textbook.He took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Okay, okay, let’s fix this before the world collapses. Baseball is, like, the best sport ever,” he began, trying to keep his tone serious, though a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “It’s where you hit a ball with a bat, really hard, and then you run around these bases—think of them as like, uh, safe spots in a game of tag—before the other team can catch the ball and get you out.”
Eijun and Eiko exchanged a glance, clearly intrigued but still not fully understanding. Eijun tilted his head. “Why do you have to hit the ball hard?”

“Because it’s fun! And you can hit it so far that the other team has to run and chase it. If you hit it really, really far, it’s called a home run, and then you get to run around all the bases without stopping. It’s like being a superhero—zooming around the field while everyone cheers!”
Their eyes lit up at that. “Like superheroes ?” Eiko asked, eyes sparkling now.
“Exactly!” Chris nodded, finally getting into his groove. “But there’s more! There’s this thing called pitching, where someone throws the ball as fast as they can, and you’ve got to hit it with the bat. The pitcher tries to trick you by making the ball go all twisty and curvy—so it’s kind of like dodging a super tricky attack in a video game. Only you don’t dodge it; you smash it with the bat.”
“Smash it?” Eijun repeated, his face lighting up. “Like bam ?” He swung an imaginary bat wildly, nearly knocking over a nearby lamp.Chris jumped to catch the lamp just in time, then laughed. “Yes! Exactly like bam! But with a bit more control.” He pretended to swing the bat, demonstrating a smoother motion. “You want to make sure you aim it just right so the ball goes flying!”
Eiko was bouncing on his toes now. “And what happens after you run around all the bases?”
“Well,” Chris continued, “if you make it back to the starting point, which is called home plate, without getting tagged, your team gets a point. And if you do something really cool, like catch a super high ball or make an awesome play, the whole crowd goes wild. It's like having your own cheering squad, just for you.”
Both twins’ eyes went wide. “Like the crowd in superhero movies? All clapping and cheering?”

“Yep!” Chris grinned, his enthusiasm contagious now. “And you get to wear these cool uniforms, and everyone has a favorite position. Some people like to be the batter, some like to pitch, and some people—like me—are catchers. We get to wear all this cool gear and stop the ball from zooming past. It’s kind of like being the goalie, but better, because I get to tell everyone what to do!”

The twins looked at each other, faces practically glowing with excitement. Eijun’s hands shot up in the air. “I want to throw the tricky balls! Like WHOOSH!” He mimed a powerful pitch, spinning his arm in exaggerated circles like he was winding up for the world’s most powerful pitch this time, knocking over a stack of books.

“And I want to be the one who catches the balls in all the cool gear! ” Eiko declared, puffing out his chest. “I’ll be the catcher, just like Chris!” proudly as if he was already suited up as a catcher.

Chris blinked, surprised, but then smiled warmly, feeling a bit of pride swell in his chest. “You want to be a catcher, huh? Just like me?” he asked, ruffling Eiko’s hair with a grin. “Well, you’d make a pretty great one.”

Eiko grinned even wider, nodding eagerly.

Chris paused, an idea forming as he glanced between the two of them. “Hey, you know… you two could always try playing baseball for real. You could play in the same club as me.”
The twins gasped, eyes lighting up with excitement. “We could really play in the same club as you?” Eijun asked, bouncing on his toes.
“Sure, why not? But you’d have to ask your parents first,” Chris added, amused by their energy. “It’s up to them to sign you up, but it’d be awesome if you guys played. You’d love it. You’d have to practice hard, though. Baseball’s serious business.” He winked.

The twins exchanged a quick glance, then immediately turned toward the door as if they were about to sprint out of the room.

“We’re gonna ask them right now!” Eijun declared, bouncing up and down like he couldn’t hold back his excitement any longer.

“Yeah, we’ll tell them we want to be on a team, like you!” Eiko chimed in, eyes wide with determination. “And I’ll be the catcher!”

“And I’ll pitch the tricky balls!” Eijun added, mimicking his wind-up again.
Chris chuckled, imagining how their parents were going to react to this sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Alright, go ahead and ask them, but don’t forget—baseball takes practice. If you really want to play, you’ve got to be ready to work hard. But first, you’ve gotta promise to learn what baseball is before you start trying to BAM everything in sight, okay?”
Eiko and Eijun nodded furiously, eyes shining with excitement, though Chris wasn’t entirely sure they understood the “don’t smash everything” part.
“ We will! ” they shouted in unison before darting out of the room, calling for their parents at the top of their lungs.
Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Well,” he muttered to himself, “there goes my peaceful afternoons.”

****

And of course, their parents eventually caved to their insistence, even though they were a bit apprehensive at first. Their worries began to melt away when Jorge enthusiastically shared his glowing reviews of the New York Empire Baseball Club—a prestigious organization where he had played as a teenager before heading to Japan to finish his studies at Seidou.

“They are quite the famous club, actually,” Jorge declared, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “It’s just 18 to 20 minutes away from Yankee Stadium! Many renowned major league players have walked those halls, and they take immense pride in nurturing and producing talented players.” He leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Scouts come around every now and then, looking for the next big star. It’s like a baseball factory, turning out legends!”

“Ah, yes, as a Yankee player, it’s only fitting that you’d know about such things,” Takeshi said, stroking his chin in mock seriousness, though a twinkle of amusement danced in his eyes. “But are you certain this isn’t just a ploy to get the twins into a chaotic baseball frenzy?”

Jorge laughed, shaking his head. “I promise, it’s the real deal! Just imagine them in those sleek uniforms, charging onto the field. They’ll be the pride of the family—and who knows, maybe future stars!”

In that moment, the decision was sealed, and the air was thick with excitement. The idea of joining a club with such a storied history lit a spark in both parents. Though they knew there were still logistics to sort out—the twins would need to pass tryouts before they could officially join, and training wouldn’t start until the following season—the twins were hardly deterred. Their minds buzzed with dreams of home runs, cheering crowds, and dazzling plays.

As soon as the news sank in, their excitement bubbled over like a soda can shaken too long, prompting them to pester Chris at every opportunity. “Teach us the basics! Show us how to swing a bat!” they clamored, bouncing on their toes like popcorn kernels about to explode.

Chris laughed, unable to resist their infectious enthusiasm. “Alright, alright! Just give me a minute to grab my glove and bat!” He grinned at their eager faces, already plotting how he could turn their eager energy into productive practice sessions.
  
Eijun and Eiko clutched their father’s hands tightly as they entered Yankee Stadium for the first time. The warm Saturday air was filled with the hum of excited fans, and the iconic field spread out before them like a vast emerald. The massive stadium lights cast long shadows over the pristine diamond, and the twins felt a thrill in their chests. The energy was palpable as they made their way through the concourse, their wide eyes taking in the sheer size of the stadium—the sweeping stands, the flashing screens, and the sea of pinstriped jerseys surrounding them.

“Our seats are over there in the VIP section,” their aunt Kaori announced with a proud smile. “Jorge reserved them for us.”

They followed her past rows of eager fans until they found their seats near the third base line, offering the twins a perfect view of the diamond where the New York Yankees were set to face off against the Los Angeles Dodgers. The excitement was contagious, the stadium already alive with cheers, and the scent of hot dogs and popcorn drifted through the air.

Chris, normally the most composed of the bunch, was practically vibrating with excitement as he sat down. He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the field with childlike glee. “I’m so excited for this!” he exclaimed, nearly bouncing in his seat.

The twins exchanged an amused glance before turning to their cousin, their usual mischievous grins stretching across their faces.

“Yes, of course,” Eijun began.

“you are,” Eiko finished.

“You’ve been,”

“saying that,”

“since the day—”

“before yesterday!” they chorused in perfect unison.
Chris’s face immediately scrunched up, caught between annoyance and amusement. “Stop that! You’ve been doing the weird twin-speak thing ever since you watched that one Harry Potter clip.” He crossed his arms, turning his nose up with exaggerated dramatics. “And don’t pretend you weren’t just as excited about this game an hour ago! Hypocrites.”
Kaede’s soft laugh interrupted the teasing. “Boys,” she said in a warning tone, though the mirth in her eyes betrayed her amusement. Her attempt at seriousness only added to the lightness of the moment.

The twins blinked up at her with wide, innocent brown eyes, but their cherubic faces couldn’t hide the mischievous glint beneath. They broke into identical grins, their antics clearly not finished for the day.

“If I have to hear them finish each other’s sentences one more time, I might lose it” Eitoku muttered from his seat, shaking his head. “As if it weren’t already hard enough to tell them apart on a daily basis.” His sigh was long-suffering but not without affection. “Americans and their need to be extra,” he added under his breath, causing Takeshi to stifle a chuckle from beside him.
“Well, it is a rather anticipated game,” Takeshi mused, his eyes scanning the field. “The last one before the new season officially begins, if there’s ever a time to be ‘over-the-top,’ this would be it.”
As they settled into their seats, the stadium atmosphere continued to build. The crack of the bat echoed through the air as players began warming up, drawing excited murmurs from the crowd. The smell of hot dogs wafted past them, making Eijun's stomach growl, though he was far too enthralled by the sight of the players on the field to care.

The stadium roared to life as the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, signaling that game time was fast approaching. Fans stood up to cheer as the Yankees emerged from the dugout, the crowd’s excitement reaching a fever pitch. The twins’ eyes were as wide as saucers, their gaze darting between the field and the huge jumbotron that loomed above them.
The crowd suddenly quieted as the first batter for the Yankees stepped up to the plate, signaling the start of the game. The commentator’s voice boomed through the speakers: “And here we go, folks! Kicking things off for the Yankees, Harrison Bader at the plate, facing off against Dodgers ace Julio Urías. Let’s see what kind of heat Urías brings to the mound today!”
Eijun leaned forward, his eyes glued to the pitcher’s mound. “Look at him, Eiko,” he whispered. “That’s where I want to be. The ace. Number 1. Controlling the game.”

Eiko, however, had his eyes fixed on Jose Trevino, the Yankees’ catcher behind the home plate. “You can have the mound. I want to be the one behind the mask, calling the shots, just like Chris.” His voice was full of awe as Trevino crouched, signaling to the pitcher. “See how he’s the commander? The pitcher may be the ace, but the catcher runs the game.”

Chris grinned as he overheard them. “You’re right, Eiko. The catcher is the backbone. But if you’re serious about it, you’ve got to be as sharp as a knife—knowing every batter, every pitch. And Eijun,” he added, turning to his baby cousin, “being an ace means carrying the team. It’s not just about throwing heat; it’s about strategy, endurance, and never losing your cool.”

As the game kicked into high gear, the Yankees took the field for defense first. Jorge, the Yankees' legendary slugger Chris’s father and Eijun and Eiko’s uncle, stood confidently in the dugout, watching his team. The roar of the crowd was deafening when his name was announced, and the twins couldn't hide their excitement.

“That’s Uncle Jorge!” Eijun exclaimed, pointing.

“Batting cleanup,” Eiko added, eyes wide.
The Yankees kept the Dodgers in check during the first few innings, with Gerrit Cole, their ace pitcher, dominating the mound. “And Cole delivers a nasty fastball, taking down Mookie Betts swinging! Yankees hold their lead!” the commentator boomed through the speakers.
By the bottom of the fourth inning, it was time for the Yankees to bat. Jorge was third up, and anticipation rippled through the stadium as fans waited to see the slugger step up to the plate.

“Now batting for the Yankees, Jorge ‘the Animal’ Madison, their star slugger! He’s been on fire all season, folks, and with two runners on base, let’s see if he can add to that tally.”

The twins watched in awe as Jorge adjusted his helmet and took his place in the batter’s box. Eijun and Eiko could barely sit still, their eyes glued to their uncle.

“And here comes the pitch!”
 
CRACK
 The bat connected, sending the ball soaring high into the outfield. The crowd erupted as the ball sailed over the fence. “ ‘The Animal’ with a three-run homer! Yankees extend their lead to 3-0!”
The twins leapt to their feet, shouting with excitement. “That’s our uncle!” they screamed, jumping up and down.

Chris grinned, just as ecstatic, clapping his hands. “That’s the power of a slugger, you two. Dad’s not just strong—he’s smart. He knows how to read a pitcher, how to time his swing. That’s what makes him dangerous.”

As the game progressed, the Dodgers managed to score two runs in the fifth inning, tightening the game to 3-2. But the Yankees defense, led by the sharp pitching of Cole and the strong backstop work of Trevino, kept them from gaining more ground.
By the seventh inning, Jorge was back at the plate. The commentator's voice buzzed through the stadium again. “Madison up for his second at-bat of the day. Yankees still leading by one.”
Jorge swung powerfully, but this time he connected with a line drive, sending the ball rocketing toward left field. It wasn’t a home run, but he made it to second base, igniting a rally that resulted in another Yankees run by the inning’s end.

“And ‘ The Animal’ with a double! The Yankees aren’t done yet!”

Eijun and Eiko could hardly contain their excitement, watching as their uncle not only hit big but also inspired his teammates. It was exactly the kind of teamwork they both craved—Eijun pitching and Eiko catching, just like a battery in sync.

As the game entered the ninth inning, the Yankees held a narrow 5-4 lead, and Clay Holmes took the mound to close it out. The Dodgers put up a fight, with Freddie Freeman and Mookie Betts both getting on base.

“Freeman and Betts on base with two outs. Will the Dodgers manage to pull off a comeback?”

The crowd held its breath as Holmes prepared for the final batter. Will Smith stepped into the box, determination etched on his face.

Eijun watched closely, imagining himself on the mound in a high-stakes situation like this. He couldn’t imagine how much pressure Holmes must be feeling. Eiko, on the other hand, was focused on Trevino, admiring how calm the catcher remained, signaling for the next pitch with precision.

“And here’s the pitch… Smith swings and misses! Strike one!”
Holmes wound up again. The second pitch was a fastball, perfectly placed, and Smith fouled it off. The tension in the stadium was palpable. One more strike and the game would be over.
“The third pitch… Smith swings and misses! Strike three! Yankees win!”

The stadium erupted in cheers, the fans on their feet as the Yankees celebrated on the field. Eijun, Eiko and Chris were bouncing in their seats, their excitement contagious.

“This is it!” Eiko declared, his eyes shining. “We’re going to be the best catcher and ace ever! The most unstoppable battery, just like them!”

Eijun nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll be the ace, and you’ll be my catcher. No one will be able to beat us.”
As the stadium began to empty, Eijun and Eiko rushed over to their parents, practically bouncing with excitement. “We can’t wait for the tryouts!” they shouted in unison, their eyes sparkling.
Takeshi chuckled, sharing an amused glance with Kaede. “You’re all signed up, so the next step is training,” he reminded them with a grin.

“I’m going to be the best pitcher they’ve ever seen!” Eijun declared, fists clenched in determination. “The ace!”
“And I’ll be the catcher, just like Trevino—no, just like Chris !” Eiko added, striking an exaggerated catcher’s pose.Chris, only a year and a half older but feeling the weight of his "big brother" status, smirked at them. “You’re getting ahead of yourselves. tryouts aren’t a walk in the park. You’ve got to put in the work.”He folded his arms, but the excitement in his eyes mirrored theirs. “But don’t worry—I’ll continue helping you both out you’ve doing well so far. And who knows? Maybe one day we’ll be the Sawamura and Madison trio that everyone talks about!”
Eiko beamed at the idea. “That would be awesome!”
The idea of becoming the most unstoppable battery filled their minds and hearts, all they could see was the baseball diamond, and all they could feel was the thrill of the game.
Tryouts couldn’t come fast enough.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Coach Jacob stood at the edge of the field, clipboard in hand, observing the group of young children as they worked through the drills laid out for them. It was always a challenge to pick out the truly exceptional ones among the many hopefuls. Not that only the stars mattered—each child had their own potential—but once in a blue moon, he struck gold, unearthing a natural talent destined for the game. The tricky part was that five-year-olds were unpredictable; at that age, they were still figuring out which position, if any, they liked, and sometimes whether they even liked baseball at all.

The club’s program was divided into four key groups. There was the novice class, for children under six, where they learned the basics of tee-ball. Then came the intermediate group for ages seven to ten, where they transitioned into softball. The advanced class for those aged eleven to fourteen was where skills were sharpened, and finally, the senior group, which comprised mostly high school students. It was from the advanced and senior classes that the coaching staff expected greatness to emerge. By then, the real diamonds had been identified, and many were drafted to represent the U.S. in the U12 to U18 divisions of the Junior and Senior World Series Baseball. The seniors, in particular, often caught the attention of Major League scouts. Jacob and his fellow coaches prided themselves on nurturing talent, and the club was a regular contender, consistently ranking in the top three of the United States Region Tournaments.

Jacob’s thoughts drifted to a particular group from four years ago—his band of troublemakers, as he liked to call them. Foremost among them were the Sawamura Twins, who had caused quite a stir at the time. Chris, their cousin and something of a big brother figure, wouldn’t stop talking about them. And with good reason. Chris himself was a big name in the club, a prodigy who had joined the team with a combination of raw talent, relentless work ethic, and unshakable resilience.

But the Sawamuras weren’t the only promising ones from that batch. There was Henry Bennett, a boy with a mop of curly brown hair whose natural affinity for fielding shone during every practice. Noah Carter, a sandy-haired speedster with quick legs, was shaping up to be an excellent shortstop. Then there was Caleb Morgan, a fiery redhead whose ego seemed to grow alongside his pitching skills. Brash and full of confidence, Caleb was slowly but surely living up to his own expectations.

Still, it was the Sawamura boys who fascinated Jacob the most. They were, without a doubt, the most unique of the bunch—mischievous, chaotic, and cheeky, with a boisterous energy that filled the field. Yet despite the countless gray hairs they had likely given him, they exuded an undeniable charisma that made them hard to stay mad at. Once they set foot on the field, however, something shifted. They became focused and surprisingly quiet, channeling all their energy into the game. It was a quality that Jacob knew would serve them well in the long run.

Eijun, with his wiry, flexible frame, was particularly notable for his naturally moving ball—something seasoned pitchers spent years trying to master. He was still working on controlling it, though, especially after last season’s unfortunate incident with the dead ball. His twin, Eiko, was equally impressive, always giving off an air of quiet authority behind his catcher’s gear, as if born to direct the game from behind the plate. It wasn’t just their natural talent that impressed Jacob, but their ability to complement one another. Eijun’s unpredictability on the mound paired perfectly with Eiko’s steadying presence behind it. “They must have baseball in their blood,” Jacob mused, thinking of Chris and how this uncanny affinity for baseball ran deep in their family.

With time and experience, their batting had improved to match their prowess in pitching and catching. Eijun had also become a capable fielder, and both boys were quick on their feet, a trait that added to their versatility. “I’ll make stars out of these five yet,” Jacob mused, casting one last glance at the group. But before any of that, there was a more immediate goal: a Regional Championship to win.

With that final thought, Jacob blew his whistle, signaling the end of practice. Tucking his clipboard under his arm, Jacob smiled. “Better get to work, then,” he muttered to himself, already planning the next steps for his newest crop of stars in the making.
  Nine-year-olds Eijun and Eiko Sawamura were undeniable menaces—and not even in the “adorable and forgivable” way anymore. Chris Takigawa Madison, their self-appointed big brother, sat slumped on the couch, mentally preparing himself for what was about to happen. With cherubic faces that belied their true nature, the twins had once again managed to avoid their homework until the very last minute.
“They’ve gotten worse,” Chris grumbled under his breath, rubbing his temples. “It’s like they’ve evolved—into smarter, louder little demons.”

“Chris-nii-chaaaan!” Eijun wailed dramatically, sprawled across the coffee table like his life was in ruins.

Chris sighed.

‘Here we go.’

“If you don’t start working now,” Chris warned, crossing his arms, “you’re going to fail your classes. And then, when Coach Jacob kicks you out of the club, Mason and Caleb will take your spots as starters.”

Eiko gasped, slapping a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You wouldn’t let that happen, would you,
Chris-nii-chan
?”

Eijun, never one to be left behind in the dramatics, rolled off the table and clutched Chris’s sleeve, his eyes wide and shimmering with exaggerated tears. “You wouldn’t let poor, defenseless
little
brothers like us get kicked out, right?”

The twins exchanged a glance, then smirked in perfect synchronisation.

“But Chris-nii-chan,” Eiko began, his tone sweet enough to rot teeth.

“You’re so kind,” Eijun added, his voice almost a purr.

“So strong—”

“So smart—”

“And so,
so
good-looking—”

“The best big brother
ever
.”

Chris’s face remained impassive, though his eye twitched as the flattery rolled in like a tidal wave. He’d been through this routine too many times to fall for it easily.

“So, won’t you—”

“Please help us—”

“Just this once—”

“With our boring, awful—”

“Horrible—”

“Terrifying—”

“Homework?”
They finished the pitch together, their brown eyes gleaming with barely hidden mischief. Chris tried to stay strong. He really did. But he caved in the end.
“This is the last time I’m doing this,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation.

“Sure~” the little devils chimed back in unison, grinning ear to ear.

Chris’s eyebrow twitched again. “That’s it.” In one swift motion, he lunged at them, tackling both in a heap. The twins shrieked, wiggling and squirming like a pair of eels, but Chris had them firmly pinned beneath his arms.

“You two are getting
really
mouthy,” Chris grumbled, rolling his eyes as they struggled beneath him.

“Well, we learned from the best!” Eiko chirped with a cheeky grin.

“Is that right?” Chris shot back, digging his fingers into Eiko’s side, eliciting a loud squeal as he tickled him mercilessly. “You mean Caleb, don’t you?”

“Nooo!” Eiko howled, kicking his legs. “He’s the
worst
influence!”

“And Jun,” Chris added, switching his attention to Eijun. “Your head’s gotten so big, we’re going to need to widen the doors so you can fit through.”

“Hey!” Eijun gasped, looking as if Chris had just accused him of committing treason. “I’m nothing like Caleb! I’m a

team player

! Thank you very much.” he said, pointing a finger at himself with an air of exaggerated righteousness.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “So is Caleb—he just gets a little too full of himself sometimes.”

Eijun sniffed, still acting affronted. “Well, at least I’m humble about it.”

Chris snorted, but Eiko couldn’t contain his giggles any longer, and soon he was laughing uncontrollably. Eijun, offended by the lack of support from his twin, folded his arms and turned away with a loud, dramatic
huff
.

Suddenly, Eijun’s playful expression melted away, and a flicker of genuine worry crossed his face. “But seriously, Chris-nii… I’m a bit nervous about the tournament.”

Chris blinked, surprised by the shift in tone. “Nervous? You?”

Eiko nodded, his usual energy momentarily subdued. “Yeah, we didn’t get to play last year because of the injuries. And now… there’s a lot of pressure, you know?”

Before Chris could respond, a loud laugh boomed from the doorway. “
You
, nervous?It’s like saying pigs can fly.”

The trio turned toward the voice, and the twins’ eyes lit up. Standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, was Jorge, their Uncle. The very sight of him had the children springing up from the floor in an instant.

“UNCLE!”

“DAD!”

They launched themselves toward him at full speed, and Jorge, with the reflexes of a veteran athlete, caught them effortlessly, one in each arm.

“What’re you doing back already?” Chris asked, his surprise turning into a grin as he approached his dad.

Jorge chuckled, giving Chris a one-armed hug while still holding the twins. “Game got canceled last minute, so I hopped on the earliest flight back. Figured I’d surprise you?”

Chris smirked. “You really saved me from these two. They were one ‘Chris-nii-chan’ away from convincing me to do
all
their homework.”

Jorge looked down at the twins, feigning disappointment. “Is that so?”

Eiko and Eijun exchanged a glance, then beamed up at their dad with their most angelic smiles. “We wouldn’t

dream

of doing such a thing,” Eiko said, hands clasped together in an exaggerated show of innocence.
Eijun nodded vigorously. “Nope! We’re very hardworking! Honest!”
Jorge raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying a word of it. “Uh-huh. Hardworking little con artists is what you are.” He gently set them down and crossed his arms, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

The twins, undeterred, immediately launched into their next scheme. “Well, now that you’re back early, that means you can
definitely
give us extra batting tips, right?” Eijun asked, eyes wide with excitement.

Eiko nodded eagerly. “Yeah! We need all the help we can get if we’re going to beat the competition.”

Jorge laughed, shaking his head. “You two never miss a beat, do you?”
“Nope!” they replied in unison, their grins only growing wider.
“Well, first, we’re going to eat lunch,” Jorge said, ushering them toward the dining room, “then, you’re finishing that mountain of homework you’ve been ignoring—no arguments—and

then

, we’ll talk about batting.”

Eijun let out a dramatic groan, dragging his feet as though his uncle had just sentenced him to life in prison. “Homework again? Ugh, it’s like we’re in school or something.”

“Crazy concept, isn’t it?” Chris retorted, smirking as he gave Eijun a nudge forward.

Jorge laughed, ruffling the twins’ hair as he guided them into the kitchen. “Come on, before your aunt decides we’re all in trouble for holding up lunch.”
  
The taste of defeat was a bitter one, Eiko realized, sharper than anything he had ever felt. Despite their best efforts, they had lost the Regionals. Well, maybe "lost" wasn’t the right word—they had placed second—but to a team like theirs, a team that always won the Regional Championships, second place felt as good as losing. Silver was not gold, after all. Or maybe it was just his bruised ego talking. As a catcher, Eiko always took things personally, and he couldn’t help but feel like he had let the team down somehow.

He looked around at his teammates. Caleb, normally so full of swagger and confidence, was on the verge of tears. Eiko could see it in the way his bottom lip trembled and his fists clenched at his sides, like he was trying to hold it all in. Henry and Mason had their heads hung low, staring at the ground as if looking at it hard enough would make everything disappear. Noah, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to punch something—or someone. His fists were balled up tight, and his jaw was set in that way that made him look angrier than usual. Eiko wasn’t sure if Noah was mad at the other team or at himself, but the tension in his shoulders said it didn’t matter. Everyone else looked the same, faces marked by the sting of defeat, the heaviness of coming so close yet falling short.

Eiko’s gaze drifted to his twin. He looked pale, like he might throw up, but he kept his chin up, eyes forward. Eiko knew him too well though. Eijun would keep it together for now, in front of the team. He’d hold on to that shred of pride until they got home, and then—then, he’d probably cry his heart out. That was just how Eijun was. Always trying to be strong, always holding it together until the walls were gone and it was just the two of them again.

The thing was, they had all believed they were the best. They had been the best for as long as Eiko could remember. Their team was always the one with the gold medal, always the one hoisting the trophy in the air, grins stretched across their faces, victory certain. And maybe that had been their problem—they thought they couldn’t lose. Maybe that was why it stung so much now. They hadn’t been ready for this, for second place. It felt wrong, like a mistake they didn’t know how to fix.

Coach Jacob’s voice broke through the heavy silence, his face as hard and unreadable as ever. “This loss had been a long time coming,” he said, his voice steady but firm. “Learn from the mistakes you made today. Grow from them, and make sure you don’t repeat them again. Next time, you’ll be ready for gold because this silver trophy isn’t a loss—it’s a reminder of how close you came.”

Eiko glanced at the trophy, gleaming silver, sitting in Coach Jacob’s hand. It wasn’t a bad-looking trophy, really. It was just... not the one they had wanted. His throat tightened as he thought about what the coach had said. Was this really how close they had come? Just a few more plays, just a little more effort, and that gold could have been theirs. It was almost worse knowing they had been that close. Almost like they could still reach out and grab it, but it would never be theirs—not this time, anyway.

Coach Jacob’s words stuck with him though, even as he tried to push the disappointment down. Eiko was smart enough to know this wasn’t just about the game today. It was a wake-up call. Maybe they had needed it. Better to learn how to lose now than later, when it would hurt even more. He wasn’t happy about it, but deep down, he knew Coach was right. You couldn’t win all the time, no matter how good you were. You had to learn to lose, too.

But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

As they gathered their things and began to leave the field, Eiko felt a strange mix of feelings. Part of him was still angry, disappointed even. But another part of him—quieter, more thoughtful—was already thinking ahead. This wasn’t the end. It was just a reminder. Next time, they’d be ready. Next time, they’d win.
 
And next time, he’d make sure of it.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The change had been gradual, but Chris, having known the twins for so long, could spot it right away. Every morning, like clockwork, they were up at five, dragging him along on their early morning jogs. Their mother, ever protective, wouldn’t let them go alone at that hour, so Chris had become their reluctant running partner. They didn’t go far—Central Park was only about ten minutes away from their apartment—but still, it was better to be safe.  The twins claimed it was for endurance, though Chris suspected it was about more than just stamina.

After their jog, Eijun would pester him to catch his pitches, while Eiko focused on his batting practice. But even during club training, Chris noticed something different. Their whole cohort seemed to have stepped up. Nothing too extreme, nothing that would cause unnecessary strain, but there was an undeniable intensity in the air, a kind of electricity.

Chris had heard all about the Regionals—it was hard not to, given that he’d competed in them himself at their age. But coming in second? That must’ve hit the younger players hard. He knew that feeling all too well, having been in that exact position once. Still, the strength of their club lay in how they dealt with losses like that. The coaches were masters at turning disappointment into motivation, guiding their players to grow as individuals with a firm but supportive hand. It was why those who stayed on past the intermediate level were molded into more focused, disciplined players.

That’s what he was seeing now in the twins and their team. The playful banter that always followed Eijun and Eiko was still there—they were still the mood makers—but their focus during practice had sharpened. There was purpose behind every movement, every drill.

And perhaps that was why Chris found himself with the twins in the bullpen, long after training had officially ended.

“Throw it again!” Chris called out to Eijun, settling into his stance behind the plate.

This time, he paid close attention to Eijun’s pitching form. Eijun held his right arm straight, then created a wall as his foot hit the ground after a strong stride. His lower body led the motion forward, but his throwing arm and shoulder remained closed, tucked in longer than most pitchers would. Eijun kept his hand hidden behind his head until the very last moment, then snapped it forward like a rubber band. His arm whipped out quickly, releasing the pitch so fast that a batter wouldn’t be able to spot his grip or anticipate what kind of pitch was coming. By the time they saw the ball, it would already be too late.
The ball smacked into Chris’s mitt with a solid thwack , snapping him back to the present. He glanced down at the ball and then back at Eijun.
“It’s your form, Jun,” Chris said, giving him a thoughtful look. “It worked for you before, but lately it’s been slipping. Your control’s off. We’re going to need to readjust it, find something more consistent—especially with how flexible you are. I think we should talk to Coach Jacob about it, get his input.”

Eiko, who had been watching from the side, finally spoke up, stepping closer with his catcher’s gear still on.

“If I wasn’t so used to Jun’s pitching style and didn’t have an instinctive feel for it, I’d probably struggle to catch him during games,” Eiko said, his tone serious. “I know Mason feels the same. He’s been practicing catching for Jun too, and we’ve both noticed the inconsistency.”
Chris nodded at Eiko’s observation. Eiko wasn’t just a great catcher—he understood the subtleties of his brothers form better than most.
“You’re right, Ko,” Chris said. “If Jun’s release is off, even by a fraction, it throws the whole rhythm off. And that affects you, Mason, and the whole flow of the game.”

Eijun walked over, deep in thought. “Yeah, I’ve noticed my fastballs aren’t moving as much anymore. It might have something to do with my four-seamer stabilizing too much. And here I was, thinking I could finally start learning the change-up,” he added, pouting slightly.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing around the bullpen. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jun!” he chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve still got plenty to work  to do before you start adding new pitches to your arsenal. Trust me, it’s better to fix what’s slipping now before you pick up any bad habits and throw your whole form out of whack. One thing at a time, alright? The change-up’s not going anywhere.”

He gave Eijun a playful shove, his grin widening. “Besides, if you jump straight into something new without sorting this out first, you’ll just make things harder for yourself. The last thing you want is to mess up your fastball while you’re trying to figure out how to master a change-up. So, let’s take care of this issue now.”

Eijun sighed dramatically, though a small smile tugged at his lips. “Fine, fine. One step at a time,” he muttered.

As they were wrapping up their training session, Chris noticed Coach Jacob heading toward them from the far side of the field. His stride was purposeful, clipboard in hand, and the usual no-nonsense expression on his face. Chris could tell he’d been watching them for a while, his eyes sharp as they scanned the twins.

“Still at it, huh?” Coach Jacob’s voice cut through the quiet of the field, his gaze flickering between the three of them.
“Yeah,” Chris replied, lowering his mitt, “these two spotted some inconsistencies in Jun’s form, and they dragged me into checking it out. We were actually hoping to talk to you about it.”
Jacob raised a brow, the clipboard shifting under his arm. Before he could respond, Eiko chimed in. “Jun’s form’s been unstable lately,” he said matter-of-factly, “It’s making his pitches kinda wild.”

Jacob nodded, his expression unreadable, but the way his eyes narrowed told Chris he’d already anticipated this. “I figured as much,” he said at last. “I’ve been meaning to start both you and Caleb on core control training and shadow pitching anyway. It’ll help with your mechanics.”

Eijun blinked, “Uh, shadow pitching?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

The coach’s lips twitched into what could almost be considered a smile—if one squinted hard enough. “Yeah, shadow pitching,” he said. “You’ll be going through your full pitching motion, but without the ball. Instead, you’ll use a towel to simulate the throw.”

“Pitching… without a ball?” Eijun’s face fell dramatically, his shoulders slumping. “What a tragedy.”

Jacob remained unfazed by Eijun’s melodrama. “You’ll survive,” he said dryly. “It’s all about focusing on the details of your motion—how your body moves, how your muscles feel. Without the ball, you can isolate each part of the motion and notice where things might be off. Once you’ve built that muscle memory, the movement becomes second nature. You’ll have better balance, better control. It’s the foundation for refining your pitching form.”

“But,” Eiko interjected, cutting through Eijun’s ongoing grumbles, “the problem isn’t just Jun’s form though. We noticed in our last game that batters are starting to get a better read on his pitches. What’re we gonna do about that?”

Jacob nodded again, his expression thoughtful. “Good point. While the towel drills will take some time—weeks, maybe months—there’s more we can do. In the meantime, we’ll focus on outside pitches. Start working on your placement. Painting the corners is key to keeping batters off balance, and throwing outside will force them to adjust. Once you’ve mastered that, we’ll work on mixing in inside pitches to mess with their timing even more.”

He turned to Eijun, his gaze firm. “Control, precision, and speed—those are your priorities for now. We’ll strengthen your foundation, then we’ll add more pitches to your repertoire.”

Eijun’s earlier pout was replaced by a look of determination, “Got it, Coach,” he said, voice steady.

Turning to Eiko, Coach Jacob continued, “And starting next week, I’ll be working with you and Mason on more advanced game calling. It’s time for you two to start thinking like leaders behind the plate. Think of it like a game of chess: you’ll learn to predict the next move, control the outcome, and always stay one step ahead of your opponents. Just like how the queen protects the king in chess, it’s the catcher’s job to protect the pitcher—the king on the field.”

Eiko’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Oooh, I’ve been waiting for this forever!” he cackled gleefully, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Chris smirked, throwing an arm over Eiko’s shoulders. “Ne~ now that you’ll be learning the art of game-calling, maybe you’ll finally stop bugging me with your endless questions,” he teased.

Eiko shot him a playful glare, not missing a beat. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he sniffed, crossing his arms with an air of false superiority. “I’ll squeeze every last bit of information out of you and then take your spot once we’re in the same advanced group. You may be my older brother, but I’m not holding back.”
“Sure~ Go ahead. You can try, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my spot that easily.” Chris drawls.  
Time flies when one is caught up doing something what one loves.

After their talk with Coach Jacob, training had kicked up a notch for the boys. Drills, simulated games, stamina work—it all blurred into one intense routine. By the end of most days, they barely made it through dinner before crashing straight into bed. But they were adjusting, just like the rest of their team.

In the nearly empty locker room, only the Sawamura twins, Henry, Noah, Caleb, and Mason remained, sorting their gear in relative peace.

“Yo, Noah!” Henry’s voice echoed, cutting through the quiet.

Noah scowled, trying to tug his jersey out of his duffel bag. “What d’you want?” he grumbled, clearly irritated.

Henry leaned back against a locker, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “Still down for the arcade this weekend, or are you still grounded for that B on your math test?”

Noah shot him a glare, finally managing to cram his things out of the bag. “Stop rubbing it in.”

The others watched the exchange with varying degrees of amusement until Eijun finally broke the silence. “Wait, how do you get grounded for a B?”

Noah groaned, rolling his eyes. “I may have told my mom I’d ace it without studying. We made a bet… I lost. Now I’m stuck with house arrest for having a big mouth.”

Henry snickered, “The best part? He missed the A by one point.”

Eiko, feigning a serious expression, piped up. “You want us to talk to your mom? We’re good at convincing parents. She loves us, you know.”

Noah’s glare intensified. “That’s exactly why I don’t want you two involved. She thinks you’re these perfect saints or something. Besides, I’m free on Friday. No thanks to you.”

Eijun grinned, tugging on his compression shirt. “Worth a shot.”

Mason, now finished with his gear, raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t get how Chris manages to keep you two in check.”

“Oh, but—” Eiko started, smirking.

“Chris can’t—” Eijun continued.

“Say no—”

“To us.”

“He tries—”

“Really hard—”

“But he—”

“Always caves!” they chorused, high-fiving.

“But,” Eijun said with mock gravity, “he’s learning…”

“Brother dearest…” Eiko nodded sagely. “He’s building immunity.”
“We’ll have to step up our game,” they declared in unison, grinning wickedly.
Caleb finally spoke up with a deadpan look on his face. “You know, there’s a word for whatever obsession you two have with Chris.”

Eijun clutched his chest in mock hurt. “Oh, Caleb, my dear friend. How you wound me! But if you’re feeling left out, we could start obsessing over you instead?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Caleb’s face twisted through several expressions before settling on disgust. “Yeah… I’m good, thanks.”

Mason didn’t miss a beat, dry as ever. “I’m pretty sure even Madison doesn’t know you two keep shrines dedicated to him in your lockers.”

“Fanatics,” Henry chimed in, nodding sagely. “That’s what they are.”

The twins squawked in protest, not that their friends care though.
Henry, still chuckling, nudged Noah. “But really, you sure you don’t want us to sweet-talk your mom? The gremlins could totally charm her into letting you off the hook early. We were planning on hitting Peligro’s tomorrow to check out those new wooden bats. You know she can’t resist them.”
“Is this all we’re worth to you?” the twins whined in unison, their exaggerated pouts only adding to the theatrics.

“Pretty much,” Henry deadpanned, making the others snicker.

Noah’s grin returned, but he waved them off. “Nah, maybe next time. I’ll hold you to it, though!”

As the last bits of laughter settled in the locker room, the boys gradually fell into a comfortable silence. Caleb was the first to break it. “You know, all this talk about getting grounded for a B makes me think I should double-check my homework. Mom’s got eyes everywhere.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Caleb. That sounds like common sense. I’m not sure your homework would even recognize you at this point.”

Caleb grinned, unfazed. “I’ve been busy! You try pitching and dealing with—” he waved vaguely at Eijun and Eiko, who were currently in a whispered debate over whose jersey was cleaner.

Henry gave a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, what would you all do without me? I’m the glue holding this whole team together. It’s part of my job to keep you guys in check.” He paused for a moment, eyes glinting mischievously. “Though with these two fiends, I might need a promotion.”

Noah snorted from his spot by the door. “You’re more like the duct tape. Keeps things together but barely holding on.”

Caleb smirked. “Not even that. I’d say masking tape, at best.”

“Hey, if I’m masking tape, then what does that make you?” Henry shot back, standing up straighter. “You don’t even stick to—”

Eiko, finishing his debate with Eijun, suddenly threw his hands up. “Time’s up, we gotta go. Coach’ll skin us alive if we’re late for practice again.”

Eijun nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Besides, we’ve got that new training coming up. Gotta be on our game, right?”

Mason threw his bag over his shoulder, chuckling as the twins bounced out of the room ahead of everyone. “Well, at least we can say they’re consistent.”

“Consistently chaotic,” Noah muttered, following after them.

The door to the locker room swung shut behind them, leaving a soft echo in the now empty space.

As they made their way toward the field, the familiar sights and sounds of the ballpark greeted them—distant cheers, the thwack of bats hitting balls, and the murmur of conversations between teammates. It felt like home. All of it, the sweat, the drills, the banter—it was where they belonged.

Caleb jogged up beside the twins, a smirk playing on his face. “So, what’s the over-under on Coach yelling at us today?”

“Fifty-fifty,” Eijun said confidently.

“No way. He’s in a good mood today. I bet we get through with just one scolding,” Eiko countered.

Henry scoffed, jogging up next to them. “You two are too optimistic.”

“We just know how to handle Coach better than you,” Eiko teased, puffing out his chest.

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. We’ll see how that works out for you during practice.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Chris sat alone on the bench, the distant roar of the crowd still ringing in his ears. Victory should’ve felt like a high, but instead, the heavy weight in his chest wouldn’t let him enjoy the moment. They had just won the state championship—a crowning achievement after months of dedication, sweat, and tears. But all he could think about was that this might be the last time he’d ever play with the Empire.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the twins came bounding toward him, their identical grins wide with excitement. Chris’s heart clenched. ‘I’m going to miss them,’ he thought, feeling a deep ache settle in. The weight of the secret he had been carrying for weeks felt unbearable now. How could he tell them? How could he explain that he was leaving, especially when they had come to rely on him so much?
“Chris! You were incredible out there!” Eijun’s voice burst with energy as he skidded to a stop in front of him. “That home run at the end—pure gold!”

“Yeah, the whole game was unreal!” Eiko echoed, bouncing on his toes. “I swear, it was like something out of a movie!”

Chris forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, it was… something.”

The moment hung in the air as the twins exchanged a glance, their grins faltering. They knew him too well. Eiko’s expression softened, his voice lowering. “Nii-chan, what’s wrong?”

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but the words got caught in his throat. The dam of emotions he had kept bottled up surged forward, and before he could stop himself, tears began to fall. “I—” His voice broke. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you, but I just… I couldn’t.”

Both twins froze, eyes wide. They had never seen Chris cry like this before. Sure, they’d seen him upset, disappointed even, but never like this—never with such raw emotion. Eiko was the first to crack, his eyes filling with tears just from seeing his big brother like this. He took a shaky step forward. “Chris… what do you mean?”

“I—I’ve been putting this off, and I’m so sorry,” Chris managed to choke out. “My parents told me a month ago that we’re moving back to Japan after the finals. I didn’t want to ruin today for you. I didn’t know how to say goodbye.”

The words hit the twins like a freight train, their stunned expressions slowly melting into disbelief. “You’re leaving?” Eiko whispered, voice trembling. “But—what about everything we planned? You promised we’d all play together! We worked for this!”

Chris winced, his gaze falling to the ground. “I know… I know I did, and I’ve been dreading this because it feels like I’m breaking that promise. I never wanted to leave you guys behind.”

Eijun’s expression shifted from confusion to anger, his voice cracking. “But we promised! We were supposed to play together! What about everything we worked for?”

Chris nodded slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Eiko’s face crumpled, tears spilling down his cheeks, as he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Chris. “You can’t go!” he sobbed, his voice muffled against Chris’s shirt. “You’re supposed to stay with us! We need you! I don’t want you to leave!”

Chris held his arms tightly around Eiko, his heart shattering at the sound of his little brother’s cries. “I don’t want to go either,” he whispered, fighting back his own tears. “I even thought about begging to stay with you, but… Dad convinced me. He said that playing baseball in Japan—especially at the high school level—is something else entirely. And… you know Dad went to Seidou for his last year. He believes it’s the best opportunity for me.”
“But it’s not fair!” Eijun shouted, his own tears finally spilling over. “We were supposed to do this together. We were supposed to get better together. What’s the point if you’re not here with us?”
Chris let out a shaky breath. “I know it’s not fair, and it kills me that I’m breaking our plans. But…” He pulled back slightly, looking at both of them. “Let’s make a new promise, okay?”

The twins blinked through the tears clouding their eyes.
“You guys are going to keep getting better, just like we planned,” Chris continued. “Win every game, every tournament, every championship. And I’ll go to Japan and learn everything I can. When the time comes, we’ll play together again— in the MLB. We’ll be the Sawamura and Madison trio, just like we always talked about.”
For a moment, the only sound was Eiko’s quiet sniffles, but then Eijun straightened, determination flickering in his tear-streaked face. “You really mean it? You’ll come back and we’ll play together?”

Chris smiled, his heart swelling with pride and love for these two. “I promise. We’ll play together again. And this time, we’ll be unstoppable.”

Eiko wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, nodding vigorously. “It’s a promise then. You’re not getting out of it onii-chan!”

“Yeah,” Eijun added, his voice firm despite the emotion still clinging to it. “No going back now. We’ll hold you to it.”

Chris laughed softly, though his chest still ached. “You’ve got my word. We’re going to make it happen. Together.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Eijun and Eiko could feel the absence of Chris in their lives starkly.

Having Chris gone felt like losing a limb. The hardest part wasn’t the sudden emptiness; it was getting used to the extra space where Chris used to be. Some days, without thinking, they found themselves sprinting up the stairs to the Madison’s apartment, eager to show him something or ask for advice, only to stop short, remembering that the apartment was now quiet. No one was home.

Chris wasn’t there to nag them about homework anymore, wasn’t there to sneak them extra treats behind their mother’s back or pull them out of trouble when things got out of hand. Sleepovers were different, too. The living room no longer filled with the sounds of late-night analysis sessions, where they’d huddle together, watching old games and dreaming of their future on the field. At first, they spent a lot of nights crying, the ache of missing him too much to bear. But tears wouldn’t bring Chris back, not when he was an ocean away. So, eventually, they stopped.

What really helped was the distraction of training. With Chris gone, they didn’t have time to fall into a slump, not when they had just joined the advanced group. Practices were more intense than ever, pushing them harder than before.

They still woke up at five in the morning, out the door before the sun rose. Their parents, having tried and failed to stop them from leaving so early, finally gave in. They invested in safety measures—new reflective gear, phones with tracking apps—anything to ease their mother’s anxiety. Without Chris around to look after them, the worry gnawed at her. Every morning, she waited anxiously for their “we’re safe” texts before she could start her day.

But even in the whirlwind of practice, school, and games, they missed him. And those feelings lingered every time his emails landed in their inbox.
  
From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date:   September 12, 7:00 am

Subject : Hey from the other side of the pond!
 
Hi, my little gremlins,

How’ve you been? Moving from across continents is crazy! And it’s been super hectic, but I’m finally settling into life here in Tokyo. It’s a lot like New York in some ways, so it’s not too overwhelming. I’ll be starting at Marugame next spring, so I’ve got a few months to get used to everything here. Oh, and since our house is close to the school, I don’t have to move into the dorms but mom said she’ll consider letting me for second and third year, which is great!

The downside? I can’t compete with my year mates just yet because of “foreigner” regulations. It’s so frustrating, but I’m dealing with it. Anyway, enough about me—you two made it into the advanced group, right? That’s huge! Now it’s time to push yourselves even harder and make the main roster. And guess what? Starting this year, scouts are going to be keeping an eye on you for the drafts next year. No pressure, though. Just… do your best and crush it like I know you will!

I’ll be expecting regular updates, by the way! Don’t think you’re off the hook just because I’m not there in person.

Oh, and I’ve gotta tell you about this magazine they have here—Baseball Monthly. It’s  like our magazine Junior Baseball back in America! They feature players from the junior league all the way up to high school, and they do exclusive interviews.

Dad took me to a few games here, and let me tell you, baseball in Japan is on a whole different level. People are crazy about it! It’s like the whole country lives and breathes baseball. There are stadiums everywhere, and tournaments all the time. The biggest one is Koshien.

I’m sure Grandpa Eitoku mentioned it before, but it’s massive . Thousands of people from all over Japan come just to watch the games, and it’s so big that they televise the matches—from the qualifiers all the way to the finals. Can you believe that? In the U.S., only something like the World Series gets that kind of attention, but here, every level gets the spotlight.

I’m hoping to make it to that stage someday, in both middle and high school. My goal is to get into Seido.

Watch me like I’m watching you. We’ve all got a lot ahead of us.

Until then,

Chris
  
“Wait! Throw that again!” Mason’s voice cut through the air.

Eijun didn’t need to be told twice. He wound up and launched the ball. It sailed fast, faster than before, and slammed into Mason’s mitt with a sound that made Mason’s fingers tingle.

“Your pitches have definitely gained speed,” Mason noted, pushing himself up from his crouch and giving his hand a little shake, feeling the residual sting through his mitt. His gaze flicked over Eijun, assessing him, the way he would a complicated math problem he was close to solving.

Eijun grinned wide, the kind of grin that barely fit on his face. “Well yes, of course they have! I’m a growing boy after all!” he drawled, voice practically dripping with smugness.

Mason arched a brow, unimpressed. “You’re still a pipsqueak in my eyes.”

“Why you—” Eijun’s hands shot up in disbelief, but Mason was already talking over him.

“You’re throwing harder, but that’s not all,” Mason said, rolling his eyes slightly at Eijun’s antics. “We’re using little league baseballs instead of softballs, which also makes a difference.” His expression softened—just a touch. “And yeah, you’ve gotten stronger too. But here’s the deal: speed without control is just chaos. You know that.” He shot Eijun a look, almost daring him to argue.

Eijun huffed, crossing his arms. “You make it sound like I’ve gone rogue or something! So what if I ‘accidentally’ picked up the crossfire? It worked, didn’t it?”

Mason let out a long, suffering sigh. “Accidentally learning something that advanced isn’t normal, Eijun. You and your brother don’t do things the normal way, and sometimes it drives me insane,” he muttered. “Anyway, enough of this. We need to fix your control before it becomes a real problem. Throw me your two-seamer again, this time with the cross-step.”

Eijun gave a mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir!” With a wink, he wound up and delivered the pitch, his body twisting into the familiar rhythm. The ball whizzed forward, and once again, Mason caught it clean.
 
Thwack
 
Mason frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Because you’re a southpaw, your foot drifts horizontally toward first base instead of staying aligned with home plate. That shifts your release point and sends the pitch across the plate at a sharper angle.” He paused, gesturing with his glove. “For right-handed batters, that diagonal trajectory makes it harder to get a clean hit, especially if you’re aiming for the inside corner. But lefties… they might catch on faster and drive it.”
Eijun gave a sly smile. “Perfect! Let’s test it out on Ko. He’s always bragging about how he can read my pitches.”
Mason shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Your brother’s not the point here.”
“I know, I know,” Eijun relented. “We’re supposed to be working on my change-ups, right? No more distractions!”
Mason gave a mock bow, smirking. “Yes, your highness.”

“Oi!”
  
From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: January 29, 7:00 pm

Subject: RE: How wise you are Onii-sama!
 
You know,

I’d take you lot a bit more seriously if you didn’t sound like you stepped out of a historical drama (￣▽￣).

It’s been a while since our last exchange, hasn’t it? How’s life on the first string treating you? I still have three months before school starts, so Dad’s keeping me busy with training. He’s got me working with a friend of his, and I’ve met a few of his teammates too. They’re all so cool!

By the way, I ran into Daichi in the city the other day—he said he was on a school trip. Told me to say hi to you. I gave him your email, so don’t be surprised if you hear from him soon.

Anyway, good luck with your next game! It’s the scrimmage against Ladera, right?Make sure you crush them!

With love,

Your one and only amazing onii-sama!
  
The twins were heading toward the club entrance after a gruelling practice, their minds already wandering to what snacks they’d raid from their mom’s kitchen before dinner, when they were rudely interrupted.

“JUN, KO!”
“ Fucking hell! ” Eiko screeched, jerking back and grabbing onto Eijun’s shoulder for dear life. Eijun clutched his chest, heart thudding against his ribs, eyes wide with shock. Caleb and Henry came barreling down the corridor, faces flushed with urgency and excitement, their footsteps echoing in the quiet of the hallway.
“Damn it, Morgan! You trying to give us a heart attack or something?!” Eijun yelled, disbelief mixing with irritation as he tried to catch his breath.

Henry, bent over and gasping for breath, managed to croak, “No… time… to explain! Jun, Ko, you gotta come with us!”

“What do you mean, come with you?!” the twins demanded in unison, but they didn’t have much of a choice because without waiting for an answer, Caleb and Henry each grabbed one of them by the wrists and yanked them back toward the building with alarming urgency.
“ Dude, at least tell us why we have to go!” Eijun howled as he stumbled along behind them. “This is assault! Assault, I tell you!”
“Coach Jacob told us to get you!” Caleb shouted over his shoulder, a mix of excitement and impatience in his voice.
“Coach?!” Eiko gasped, his feet struggling to keep up with the chaotic pace. “Why does he need us?”
“For the scouts!” Caleb exclaimed, his words ringing through the hallway.
Eijun’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. “NO. FREAKING. WAY!” He screeched and turned to Eiko, grabbing his brother’s arm for support. “Ko! Scouts are here! Scouts! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my—”Eiko’s brain short-circuited for a second, he probably would have stopped short to let the news sink in, if Caleb didn’t have a vice grip on his wrist, dragging him forward. “Wait, what— scouts ? Isn’t it a bit early for that?” His eyes widened in disbelief at the implications. “I mean, not that I’m, you know, complaining, but… scouts?! ”Henry, still dragging Eijun forward with a wild grin, barked out a laugh. “Probably to sort out logistics—games, training schedules, all that boring stuff!” His laugh turned almost maniacal. “And the best part? The six of us were selected! ”The twins barely had time to process the information before Henry added, “Though we’ll probably have to work with others from other clubs from across the country and some of the Ladera guys, which means— Logan Sullivan, ” he spat the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth, wrinkling his nose as if he could already smell the trouble.At the mention of Sullivan, the atmosphere tensed, but only for a heartbeat. Eiko made a face, and Eijun groaned loudly. “ Not Logan. Anyone but that guy!”
“Of course it’d be him,” Caleb grumbled, his eyes rolling in shared frustration. “Every time. We just can’t get rid of him. That guy’s like a bad penny that just keeps turning up!”

“Still, if it means scouts are looking at us…” Eiko trailed off, excitement finally taking hold as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “We’ll make it through, Logan or no Logan.”

The others nodded in agreement, all just as ruffled about the prospect of working with their rivals from Ladera, but none of them willing to let that spoil the moment.
  
From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: April 30, 9:00 am

Subject: RE: WE WERE SCOUTED!!!
 
OMG, what?!

You guys can’t be serious! You’re already scouted?! I can’t even wrap my head around it! The Junior League World Series is still a year and a half away! This is wild ! I’m literally tearing up over here like a proud parent. Seriously, I’m so happy for you both!

And wait—when were you going to tell me you were in Baseball Junior ?! They called you the Monarchs of the Diamond ?! I almost fell off my chair laughing! But honestly, it fits you guys perfectly. Just promise me you won’t get too big-headed! No royalty complexes allowed! Haha.

Things here in Marugame are going great! I crushed the tryouts and got bumped up to the first string! Can you believe that? Apparently, I’m the first first-year ever to make it to the first string. Dad was so proud he couldn’t stop grinning!

I was really nervous going in, but it turns out I’m taller than most of my classmates, which definitely gives me an advantage. Plus, all those weird pitches I caught from you, Eijun, have really helped me improve my skills! It’s like I’ve been training for this moment.

It’s super strange, though—there are scouts from other teams just showing up at our practices! They just stand there and watch, they sometimes also record our plays. But I just tune them out.

Our team will also make it to Koshien this year! But I won’t get to play which sucks but- what can you do?

Anyway wish me luck! I can’t wait to hear more about your games and what’s coming up for you!

Love you to death

Chris
 
P.S. Why are we always writing these long emails? Let’s just make a group chat! It would be way easier to keep in touch!
  
Eijun could practically feel the tension radiating off Caleb as he stood on the mound. Caleb had pitched nearly the entire game, his arm surely aching by now. The title of State Champions was within their grasp, and with just one more strikeout, they’d clinch it. Eijun, sitting in the dugout with his Eiko, weren’t allowed on the mound since they played the entire game the previous day, where the Sawamura twins had given it their all to get the team to this final showdown. But Eijun wouldn’t be Eijun if he didn’t try to lighten the mood.
“Oi, Caleb!” Eijun hollered from the dugout, leaning over the railing with a wide grin. “What’s the holdup? Getting cold feet already? Don’t worry, I can take the mound and the Ace number back if you mess this up! It’ll be my pleasure!”
Next to him, Eiko snickered, while Coach Jacob muttered something that sounded suspiciously like“no-good troublemakers,” shaking his head at Eijun’s antics. But as always, the tension on the field began to ease, like magic. It was Eijun’s special talent—breaking the ice, even in the tensest moments.
Caleb, still standing tall on the mound, turned just enough to glare at Eijun with a smug grin. “There’s no way in hell I’m giving up the mound—or the Ace number—to you ,” he called back, his voice laced with confidence and just a hint of arrogance.
“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that!” Eijun shot back with a laugh. “But when you choke, I’ll be ready to step in!”

Eiko cackled at the banter. “You two never stop, do you?”
Mason, crouching behind home plate, rolled his eyes. “You two can snip at each other later !” he called, directing his voice at Caleb. “Focus now! The batter’s getting pissed.”
Sure enough, the batter looked increasingly irritated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his grip on the bat tightening with each passing second.

Eijun, sensing a prime opportunity to ramp up the pressure, leaned forward again. “Oi, batter!” he called, pointing dramatically. “Don’t let that fastball freak you out too much! Caleb’s aim gets all wobbly when he’s nervous!”
Mason snapped his head back toward Eijun. “ EIJUN !” he barked, glaring daggers at the grinning pitcher in the dugout. “Do you want to get in his head?”
“Just setting the mood!” Eijun replied with a Cheshire grin, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

Everyone knew the rivalry between Eijun and Caleb was constant—like two panthers circling each other, waiting for the other to blink. Both were fiercely competitive and wanted the Ace position more than anything. Eijun, with his deceptive delivery and baffling pitches that left batters guessing until it was too late, and Caleb, with his blistering fastballs that shut down entire lineups, made the decision nearly impossible for Coach Jacob. Not that the rivalry between Eiko and Mason was any less intense. Eiko, bold and cunning, commanded his pitchers like a war general, while Mason, steady and unflinching, was an iron wall behind the plate. Coach Jacob was always caught between talented players, and frankly, it gave him a headache.

“Come on, last out!” Noah called from second base, clapping his glove.

“One out!” echoed their teammates, the chant growing louder with each heartbeat.

Caleb, shaking off the noise and ignoring Eijun’s antics, set his focus on the batter. He wound up and threw his signature fastball.

The next sound was unmistakable—the sharp crack of the ball smacking into Mason’s glove. The batter didn’t even swing. Strike three.

The crowd erupted into a symphony of cheers, and the scoreboard confirmed what everyone had been waiting for: 5-4. The New York Empire Baseball Club had beaten the Ladera Little League from L.A. and were crowned State Champions.

“YES!” Eijun shouted, vaulting up from the dugout and leaping over the railing. “STATE CHAMPS, BABY!” he hollered as he sprinted toward the mound.

Caleb barely had time to catch his breath before Eijun tackled him from behind. “You didn’t do it alone!” Eijun laughed, messing up Caleb’s hair. “We got you here!”
Caleb, panting and clearly exhausted, shoved Eijun off with a groan. “ I closed the game! Me!”
Eijun just grinned wider. “Details, details. It was a team win! We’re all heroes today!”

Caleb rolled his eyes, but a grin spread across his face despite himself. “Yeah, but you’re still not getting the Ace number back.”

Eijun’s eyes gleamed with competitive fire. “We’ll see about that.”

As the team celebrated around them, Mason trudged up, shaking his head at the sight of Eijun and Caleb wrestling on the mound. “I swear, you two never quit,” he muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Eiko sauntered over, looking insufferably smug. “Guess that makes me the real MVP today, huh?” he said, nudging Mason. “You just had to sit there and catch. “I basically directed the whole game,” he added with a dramatic wave of his hand.

Mason gave him a side-eye. “You still owe me dinner,” he deadpanned.
Eiko shrugged. “I’ll pay up— if you admit I’m the better catcher.”
Mason snorted. “Not happening.”

Coach Jacob stood on the sidelines, arms crossed, watching his team gather for photos with the trophy. “State champions with this bunch of loudmouths,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “A miracle.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Baseball journals were one of the best parts of the Empire’s program, at least in Jacob’s opinion. The physical training, the drills, the endless repetitions—all of that could only take the boys so far. Muscles could be built, technique could be sharpened, but without a deeper understanding of themselves, without learning how to set personal goals, the players would inevitably hit a wall. Self-reflection was critical. It was a skill often neglected, especially in children, but one that he believed was just as important as any other. After all, if they couldn’t learn to analyze their own strengths and weaknesses, how could they ever hope to push beyond their current limits?

The journals were their way of nurturing that self-awareness, but carefully, without pushing the boys too hard or making them doubt themselves in damaging ways. It was a delicate balance—building confidence without feeding arrogance, encouraging growth without overwhelming them. But when the players took it seriously, those journals became a lifeline, a tool that allowed Jacob to guide them on a deeply personal level. There was no way he could reach every one of the 200 players starting the intermediate all the way up to the seniors during regular practices, not with the chaos and noise of the field, but in the quiet of their journals, he could offer advice, reassurance, or a gentle challenge, tailor-made for each boy.

He smiled slightly as he remembered some of the entries from previous seasons. Some were hesitant at first, unsure of what to write, but in time, they opened up in ways they never would in front of their teammates. There was a raw honesty in the writing, a vulnerability that rarely surfaced during practice, where bravado and competition ruled. On paper, they doubted themselves, admitted fears of failure, and, in some cases, boast with reckless abandon.

‘Or,’ Jacob thought with a wry grin, ‘if you’re Caleb, just openly flaunt your arrogance.’

His gaze drifted over to the group of boys as they gathered, his eyes settling on Caleb, Mason, and the rest of his merry band of troublemakers. Caleb, of course, was a standout in every way—athletically gifted, brimming with confidence (too much of it at times), and unafraid to show off. It was part of his charm, Jacob supposed, though it often bordered on arrogance. Caleb had a way of rubbing people the wrong way with his cocky remarks, but Eijun and Eiko were experts at keeping Caleb grounded. Whether through teasing, which often punctured his bravado just enough to remind him of his place, outpacing him in drills, or simply being unrelenting in their banter, they had a way of humbling him like no one else could.
Stepping forward, Jacob raised his voice just enough to cut through the chatter. “Alright, everyone, listen up.”
The boys quieted down, turning their attention to him with a mix of curiosity and mild impatience. They had just come off a tough practice, and many of them were still catching their breath, their faces flushed from exertion. But Jacob wasn’t going to let them off the hook just yet.

“Starting this season, I want you all to keep baseball journals,” he began, watching their reactions carefully. “They can be about anything related to your game—how you felt during practice, what you think went right or wrong, what your goals are for the week, or what you’re struggling with. It’s a good habit to have, and it’ll help you track your progress.”

He paused for a moment, letting the idea sink in. A few boys exchanged glances, some looking intrigued, others clearly wondering if this was just another tedious task to add to their growing list of responsibilities. Jacob suppressed a sigh but wasn’t surprised. Not all of them would take to it right away.

“These journals are for your eyes and mine only,” Jacob continued, his tone steady but firm. “No one else will see them, and no reprimands will be made for what you write in them. This is your space to be honest—with yourselves and with me. Think of it as a conversation we can have off the field.”

“Also,” he threw them a look, “I’ll be collecting them once a week, so I expect everyone to take it seriously,” he continued. “In addition to the personal journals, I also want you to start keeping records on your opponents. Pay attention to everything during games and even training camps. Observe their tells, their habits—anything that can give you an edge.”

He could see a few nodding, but others still seemed skeptical. He couldn’t blame them. For some of these boys, putting their thoughts down on paper was probably the last thing they wanted to do after a long day of drills and practice. But Jacob knew the value of it. He’d seen boys grow from shy, uncertain players into confident, thoughtful athletes, simply because they had learned how to reflect on their performance.
“I know it might seem like just another thing to do,” Jacob added, softening his approach, “but trust me, this will help you. You’re all talented, but talent isn’t enough. If you want to be the best, if you want to reach your full potential, you have to know yourself. That’s what this is about.”“So… we’re allowed to scout out the competition during the Federation’s training camps?” Eiko asked, his eyes gleaming with a gleeful light. Eijun, predictably, looked just as delighted at the prospect.Jacob paused, wisely deciding not to delve too deep into whatever chaos was brewing in the twins’ minds. Some things, he was better off not knowing. “Take it how you will,” he said with a shrug, trying to keep a straight face. ‘But it’s not like they’re wrong,’ he thought, already bracing himself for the havoc they were bound to cause.
At least Caleb would have no room to get too cocky with those two around.
 
Chris settled into his catcher’s stance, eyes sharp as he scanned the Edogawa Dragons. It was the first time he’d come across this team, but his attention kept circling back to their star catcher—Miyuki Kazuya, a short kid with piercing, calculating eyes. At the game’s start, Chris couldn’t quite place why, but he had a hunch that this kid was going to be trouble.

And he had been right.

Each time a Marugame batter stepped up, Miyuki called pitches with a brazen, almost reckless confidence, switching strategies fluidly, adjusting without hesitation. Chris watched, catching flashes of Miyuki’s approach, and felt a twinge of familiarity. The quick decisions, the unwavering confidence, the way he read each hitter—it reminded Chris just a bit of Eiko, his teammate, who shared a similar knack for reading the field.

But as sharp as Miyuki was, Chris noticed something else. Beneath the impressive play-calling, there was friction—tension that lurked between Miyuki and his battery partner, the pitcher. Miyuki didn’t play things safe; he thrived on unpredictability, practically daring hitters to keep up with his calls. But the pitcher? He wasn’t as bold. In fact, Chris caught the stiffness in his posture each time Miyuki signaled something risky. ‘His pitcher doesn’t like taking chances,’ Chris thought, watching as the ace threw each pitch grudgingly, even reluctantly at times.

A smirk tugged at Chris’s lips. That friction was all he needed to see. Their battery wasn’t in sync—not like he and his own pitcher were. There was no flow, no easy trust between them, and certainly no real communication. ‘This,’ Chris decided, ‘is where we’ll get them.’

From then on, Chris worked to exploit the weakness. He started calling more complex plays, layering feints and shifts to break through their defenses. He made sure to exploit the lack of coordination on their side, setting up angles and rhythm shifts that threw Miyuki’s ace off balance. It was a testament to Marugame’s solid batting lineup, and the runs piled up quickly. By the end of the fourth inning, they had a commanding lead, and Chris didn’t let up.

With every missed opportunity, Chris saw the tension in Edogawa’s dugout growing, the pitcher’s frustration clear in every glance he threw at Miyuki. Yet Miyuki kept his composure, holding his own as best as he could. Chris couldn’t deny the talent the kid had, either—every move he made showed skill beyond his years.

Miyuki stepped into the batter’s box later, and Chris took a moment to assess him. ‘His batting isn’t quite there yet,’ Chris mused, ‘but give him a few years and he’ll be a real threat.’ He could see the natural talent, the way Miyuki locked in on every pitch with a sharp eye, that hunger to prove himself. But the pressure was all on him now—with bases loaded, Marugame could sense the closing play.

Chris signaled to Inoue for a fastball, just on the edge of the zone. He knew it would bait Miyuki, force him into a challenging swing. As he predicted, Miyuki went for it, connecting solidly—a line drive, swift and clean, but manageable. Chris moved fast, anticipating the play as he called for the throw at home plate, tagging out the runner with precision.

“Out! Game set!”

The final score read 8-0. Marugame had overwhelmed them, and Chris felt a quiet satisfaction. Glancing back as the teams left the field, he noticed Miyuki’s intense stare, a mixture of frustration and resolve in his expression. Chris chuckled to himself, shaking his head. ‘I’m sure I haven’t seen the last of this little guy yet,’ he thought, amused.

And somewhere inside, he knew he was looking forward to that next encounter.
  
Kazuya heard them before he saw them—those angry, grating voices coming from the far side of the training field, where the light was starting to fade. Everyone else had already cleared out, leaving just him and a few others scattered around the grounds. It felt good, that calm after the chaos of the game. Not that it had gone well.

8-0. Total destruction.
And now, here they were, his so-called senpai, stomping over like they had something to prove. ‘ Pathetic ’.
“You really need to shut your mouth,” Kuroda snapped, leading the charge. His sneer was as predictable as the weak defense he’d shown on the field.

“When are you going to learn to respect your senpai?” Sakamoto added, puffing his chest out like that made his words more important.

“You threw that ball way too hard on purpose. You just wanted to make us look bad, huh?” Shimizu barked, stepping right up to Kazuya trying and failing to be intimidating.

Kazuya stood still, his hands tucked into his pockets, his expression as calm and indifferent as ever. The fiery glow of the setting sun highlighted the scowls on the older boys’ faces, but Kazuya barely spared them a glance. He wasn’t in the mood for this—they could whine all they wanted, but the game was over, and the score didn’t lie.

“I told you, senpai,” Kazuya said coolly, his voice flat and unimpressed, “on the field, age doesn’t matter. There’s no senpai or kouhai in baseball. And I didn’t throw anything too hard. You just couldn’t catch it. If you’d fielded properly, we might’ve won. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

The words hit a nerve. Shimizu’s face twisted in anger, and before Kazuya could react, the older boy’s fist lashed out, striking him across the face and knocking his glasses askew.

Kazuya didn’t flinch, though the sharp sting across his cheek was hard to ignore. With a slow, deliberate movement, he righted his glasses and met Shimizu’s furious gaze with that same cheeky grin he knew would drive them crazy.

“You really shouldn’t hit a kid with glasses, you know,” Kazuya said, his tone as cocky as ever, only fanning the flames of their frustration.

“So if we take them off, we can hit you, right?” Shimizu’s voice dropped, low and threatening. “Hold him, Toma. Grab his glasses. We’ll teach him a proper lesson this time. The coach might baby you, but you’re not that special. It’s time you learned your place.”

For a moment, it seemed like Shimizu would follow through on his threat, but Kuroda hesitated. “Let him be,” he muttered. “If the coach finds out, we’ll be benched. You know how he pampers this brat. We can’t risk it.”

Shimizu glared at Kazuya, his fists still clenched, but the threat of losing his place on the team was enough to keep him in check. With one last venomous look, the three older boys slunk away, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the shadows.
Kazuya stood there, adjusting his glasses with a sigh. ‘They almost broke them,’ he thought, brushing his fingers along the frame.
He pulled his cap lower, blocking out the dying light of the sunset. The field was quiet now. The game was over, and they’d been slaughtered.

8-0.

Marugame Senior had wiped the floor with them, and Takigawa Chris—Marugame’s catcher—had been the linchpin of that destruction. His fielding was flawless, his leadership impeccable. The way he commanded his team, his ability to read the game, his bond with his pitcher… it was nothing short of impressive. Kazuya had never seen anything like it and somehow, it left him feeling envious.

Miyuki felt his chest tighten. Before he even realized it, laughter bubbled up inside him, spilling out in loud cackles that echoed across the now-empty grounds. He doubled over, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he laughed at himself, at the absurdity of it all.
‘We’d been completely outclassed, and yet, I’m happy about it.’ He grinned
“Ah, I completely lost today,” he said between breaths, his voice tinged with both amusement and frustration. “But for now… I’m glad I lost.” He paused, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes as his laughter subsided into a wide grin. “Because it means I’ll get the chance to be better. Stronger. I don’t really care as long as baseball stays fun!”

“A catcher-to-catcher battle of reading each other’s minds, huh?”

Miyuki’s head snapped up, startled by the voice. A young woman stood before him, arms crossed and the sun glinting off her glasses, her silhouette cutting through the remaining light.
“I never thought I’d get to see such a high-level game at the junior level,” she remarked, her eyes sharp behind her lenses. Her tone was calm, but there was an edge to it, like she was evaluating him
Miyuki frowned, standing to face her. “You have high ideals and a drive to improve,” she continued, ignoring his look. “Have you ever wanted to be surrounded by teammates like you? Players who push themselves just as hard as you do? You should be playing baseball at a much higher level.”

Kazuya bit back a scoff. He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. Watching Koshien on TV, or American All-Star games, dreaming of being surrounded by people just as obsessed with the game as he was—teammates who’d throw themselves at every ball, catchers who could read a pitcher’s mind, pitchers who could match him. He fantasied about that a lot.

A short laugh escaped him. “I see. Sounds like it could be fun.”

The woman walked closer, adjusting her glasses. “Anyway,” he grinned up at her, “who are you, exactly?”

She blinked, clearly caught off guard, before quickly regaining her composure. “I’m Takishima Rei, Associate Manager for Seido High’s baseball team. I came here to scout you.”

Miyuki raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Scout me? Weren’t you here for that Takigawa guy, though?”

She coughed, standing a little straighter. “I already scouted him. You were an unexpected, but very welcome, find.”

Miyuki’s laugh grew louder. He wasn’t buying it. She must’ve come for Marugame’s star catcher. “Aren’t you rushing things? I’m only a first year, you know.”

Her eyes went wide, and she practically screamed, “EH?! You’re a first year? No wonder you’re so short!”

Miyuki’s expression darkened, glaring at her from under his cap. “Are you sure you’re actually a scout?” he muttered.

She sputtered, then sighed heavily, giving up the fight. “Either way, the offer stands.”

Miyuki’s grin returned, this time sharper. “I guess I’ll get the chance to compete with Takigawa for the starting position then. I wonder how he got so good. There’s no way catching just any pitcher made him that strong. And Marugame’s ace isn’t that special. I want to know what kind of pitchers he’s handled to get that sharp. If I go to Seido… will there be strong players like that?”

Takishima’s eyes gleamed. “I can guarantee it.”

Miyuki’s smile stretched wider. “Then you’ve got yourself a deal, Rei-chan.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

There was a time when Eijun had dreamed of this—standing among the best of the best, being selected for America’s 12U national team.
He remembered being six years old, crowded around an issue of Junior Baseball with Chris and Eiko. The magazine had been worn from too many reads, but the pictures still sparked something electric inside him. The kids in the photos—just a few years older than him and his twin—seemed larger than life. They weren’t just players; they were stars, boys whose talent practically oozed from the page. Their postures, the way they stood on the mound or swung the bat, radiated a confidence that felt out of reach. Eijun had stared at their smiles, wide and cocky, like they knew something he didn’t yet, like they were daring him to try and match them.Back then, he and Eiko had exchanged a single look. No words had been needed. That was where they wanted to be, where they had to be.
Maybe that’s why, even from such a young age, he and his twin had pushed themselves so hard. It wasn’t just about the game—it was about claiming something. They craved the thrill of it, the adrenaline rush that came from monopolizing the mound and commanding the diamond. They wanted the pressure, the starting numbers, the weight of being the guy everyone looked to when the stakes were highest. They wanted it all. It had been their shared obsession since the day they watched Gerrit Cole and José Trevino control the field with seamless precision, making it look effortless, like destiny had placed them there. The twins wanted to do that, to make everyone watching feel the weight of their presence.

Years of practice, sweat, and sheer will had turned that dream into reality. They were here now. They had earned their place.

So now that he was here—really here—about to wear the USA jersey, he should’ve been on cloud nine, right? At least, a part of him felt that buzz, a deep satisfaction at having accomplished something he’d dreamed about for so long. But there was this small part of him, gnawing at the back of his mind, that just felt irritated. And it wasn’t just him.

The source of that annoyance came slithering in the form of a voice from behind them, dripping with condescension that seemed designed to grate on every last nerve. “My, my, if it isn’t the Monarchs of the Diamond. Where are your loyal subjects?”

Eijun and Eiko froze.

Slowly, they turned to face the boy they already knew would be standing there—Sullivan Logan. Ladera’s self-proclaimed king of the field. His grin was as wide and unpleasant as ever. Eiko’s face was already darkening into a scowl, his lips curling upward into a snarl.
‘ Where’s Noah when you need him? ’ Eijun thought with a mix of frustration and amusement. Noah would’ve put Sullivan in his place without a second thought. But alas it was only the twins for now.Sullivan, of course, was unfazed. If anything, he looked even more amused, as if their irritation was fueling him. “I mean, honestly, what a surprise to see you two here,” he continued, completely oblivious to—or perhaps delighting in—the murderous looks. “I would’ve thought they’d want more variety. But then again, it would’ve been a real shame if your royal selves didn’t show up.”“Oh, God, it just had to be him,” Eiko muttered through gritted teeth.
“Maybe if we pretend he doesn’t exist, he’ll go away,” Eijun whisper-yelled back, his words sharp and deliberate.

But Sullivan wasn’t one to be ignored. “Now, now, don’t be like that. We’re teammates now, after all. Might as well try to get along, right?”

Eijun could feel the tension in the air rising, but he refused to give Sullivan the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, he turned his attention to the other boys around them, sweeping the room. Most of the other players hadn’t really registered with him yet—just names on a list, mostly strangers—but a few familiar faces stood out. Lucas Mitchell, Daniel Spencer, Alexander Brooks—all from top clubs. Good players. Players from well-known clubs. Players who, much like him and Eiko, had earned their spots. And then, of course, there was their own group. Henry, Noah, Caleb, and Mason—they were somewhere, though they hadn’t arrived yet. Still, Eijun couldn’t help but think about how odd it was to be standing in a room full of players he’d either beaten or been gunning for all these years.
‘ A reunion of enemies, ’ he thought with a hint of dry humor.
Meanwhile, Sullivan was still yammering. “OI! I’m talking to you!”
Eijun blinked, realizing Sullivan had crept closer. All eyes were on them now, the silence stretching taut. It was uncomfortable, and Eijun could feel the weight of the situation, but more than that—he was annoyed. ‘ Great, what a first impression, idiot, ’ he stifled a sigh, glancing at Sullivan’s increasingly infuriating smirk. ‘ He’s as unbearable as Caleb on his worst days .’
He shot Eiko a glance, the kind only a twin could understand. With synchronized timing, they plastered on identical grins, the fakest, most saccharine smiles they could muster.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eijun said sweetly, tilting his head. “Is that a bit of bitterness I hear?”

“It does sound like it,” Eiko added, eyes narrowing with faux concern. “You’re not upset about something, are you, Sullivan?”

“Didn’t you just say we’re teammates now?” Eijun barrelled on, his voice turning sharp. “You should be nicer to us.”

“Yeah, after all,” Eiko finished with a casual shrug, “there’s always next time when we play Ladera. Maybe you’ll have better luck. So let’s all work together, shall we?”

Sullivan’s face flushed an ugly shade of red, his mouth opening to retort, but a wave of murmurs from the other players cut him off.

“Hey, aren’t those the Sawamura twins?”
“What was their title again? Oh yeah, the Monarchs of the Diamond! I saw them in Junior Baseball.”
“I saw them play this summer. They’re insane. Real monsters.”

The smugness on the twins’ faces only grew as they caught the glances being thrown their way. Sullivan, meanwhile, seemed on the verge of combusting.

“Alright, alright!” Sullivan finally snapped, his voice carrying through the gym. “Well, I don’t care. I’m here to win, and I certainly won’t be losing to you!”

The room fell quiet, tension thick in the air. Then, a voice cut through the stillness like a sharp blade.
“What a bold statement to make, considering the company you’re in.” Mason’s voice was dry as he stepped into the room with Noah, Henry, and Caleb close behind. He gave Sullivan a look that was somewhere between amused and disdainful.Sullivan’s confidence wavered ever so slightly, and Noah wasted no time in driving the point home. “Sullivan, take a look around,” he stated coldly. “Everyone in this room is the best of the best. You’re not special .”
“We’re all here to work for this,” Caleb added, his tone calm but firm. “You think you’re gonna just waltz in and take it? It doesn’t work that way.”
‘Funny that you would say that,’ Eijun thought biting back a snort.
“And before we waste more time arguing,” Henry chimed in, crossing his arms, “how about we settle this on the field? We’re baseball players, not talk show hosts.”

The twins couldn’t help but smirk as Sullivan’s bravado faltered for a split second, his eyes flicking around at the faces that were now watching him. The room was filled with the best players in their age group, and Sullivan’s usual confidence was starting to crack under the weight of their scrutiny.

Finally, with an exaggerated scoff, Sullivan waved them off. “Whatever. We’ll see who’s laughing later.”
‘ Thank God that’s over, ’ Eiko thought, relieved as Sullivan backed down, though not without a parting glare. ‘ For now, anyway.’
Before they could get too comfortable, a sharp voice echoed across the room. “Alright, everyone, line up!”

The players immediately scrambled to attention, except the twins, who took their time, exchanging glances as they walked at a more leisurely pace. There was no need to rush.

A tall man with blond hair and icy blue eyes stepped into view, his gaze sweeping over the team with an intensity that could’ve drilled holes through steel. “I’m Coach Matthews,” he announced, his voice steady and unyielding. “I’m the head coach for the 12U division of America’s national team. And let me make something clear right off the bat…”
His eyes narrowed  into a scrutinizing glare. “I expect all of you to be serious and to have your head in the game.”
The frown on his face deepened, adding weight to his next words. “If we don’t see you pulling your weight, we’ll cut you off. If you don’t play up to our standards, you’ll be replaced. Got it?”

There was a hurried nodding from the group, a few of the kids looking downright terrified. Matthews pinched the bridge of his nose as if exhausted already, before continuing.

“And one more thing. I don’t care about your background,” his gaze landed pointedly on the twins, his tone getting just a tad frostier. “And I certainly don’t care about rumours or past achievements. The only thing that matters to me is how you play now.”

Eijun and Eiko held his stare, unblinking. They weren’t about to back down from the stare down that easily.
‘Wouldn’t have it any other way,’ they both thought.
The twins gave identical, cheeky grins to the no-nonsense coach, who frowned slightly, then turned his attention to the rest of the team. “Now, let’s get started.”
  
With players scattered across different states, coordinating regular training sessions outside their club activities, school, and games was a logistical nightmare. The solution? Intensive training camps in Taylor, Michigan, held during the holidays, when no one could dodge the call. The federation didn’t just stop there—they introduced training menus, a regimen of daily drills and conditioning that each player was expected to follow religiously, in addition to their already jam-packed schedules.

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a demand. If you wanted to be part of the team, you made it work.

The experience of playing with such a concentrated group of talent was… humbling.

Practice sessions were relentless. The drills were exhausting, designed to push even the most seasoned players to their limits. But what made it even tougher was the raw competition that simmered just beneath the surface. Every kid there had earned their spot and wasn’t going to let anyone forget it. No one slacked. No one held back. Each practice felt like a proving ground where personal reputations were on the line.

And standing right at the center of it all was Sullivan.

Sullivan was as arrogant as they came, and somehow, it was justified. He had the kind of talent that made you want to hate him, but you couldn’t deny it. He was a formidable cleanup hitter with a swing that could send the ball flying into orbit. There wasn’t a single pitcher who didn’t flinch, just a little, when they saw him step up to the plate.

He had a reputation. Pitchers cried—literally—when they saw him stepping into the batters box.

And Sullivan made it clear, in that infuriatingly smug way of his, that he wasn’t going to lose to anyone, especially not the twins. His every glance their way was filled with silent challenge. He wanted to prove he was better, and he never missed a chance to rub it in whenever he got the upper hand. His goal wasn’t just to compete—he wanted to crush them.
But Eijun and Eiko weren’t the type to let that slide. And the thing was, they didn’t plan on losing either.Every session turned into a silent clash of wills. On the surface, everyone was a teammate, but underneath, every player was fighting to be the best. Eijun and Eiko pushed themselves harder, determined not to give Sullivan—or anyone else—the satisfaction of outshining them. They trained with single-minded focus, knowing that every step forward was a step toward proving that they were the real deal.
Because, on this team, reputations meant nothing— the head coach made sure of reminding them of that fact whenever someone got carried away. It was all about who could deliver right now. Especially when some players who couldn’t keep up were ruthlessly thrown out of the team. It kept pressure on them.

In their group, past achievements didn’t matter. The only thing that counted was who could outlast the grind and come out on top.
  
“Nii-chan!” Eijun’s voice burst through the phone, nearly loud enough to rattle Chris’s ear. “I heard from Uncle—you got scouted?!”

In the background, Chris could hear Eiko protesting, his voice just as frantic. “Oi, Jun, stop pushing me! I want to talk to nii-chan too!”

Chris sighed, though a grin tugged at his lips. “The old man really needs to learn how to keep a secret. I was hoping to surprise you guys.”

“Well, we wouldn’t know anything if it wasn’t for Uncle,” Eiko shot back, clearly a little miffed. “You were the one who told us to make that group chat, remember? At least he tells us what’s going on. You barely even text!”
“Don’t get smart-mouthed with me, mister! Just because I’m not there to keep you on a leash doesn’t mean I won’t scold you from across the ocean,” Chris warned, but there was a familiar warmth in his voice. “And I can hear you pouting through the phone, by the way.”
On the other end, Eiko bit down on his lip, clearly trying to hide his sulk. Eijun cackled at his brother’s expression, the two of them now lounging side by side on the sofa, the phone resting between them.

Chris’s voice turned sharp again. “That goes for you too, Eijun. Don’t think you’re off the hook. If all you do is spam the chat with gifs, I’ll keep ignoring it. You two are impossible sometimes.”

“It’s not nonsense!” the twins protested in unison.

They collapsed back into the cushions, their earlier excitement simmering down as they listened to Chris’s voice. There was something about it—deeper, more grown-up—that made them both pause. It hit them that Chris was changing, growing up without them. It wasn’t a bad feeling, but it was strange.
“It’s amazing though, nii-chan,” Eijun said after a moment, voice softening in awe. “You’re only in your second year! Did you say yes already?”
“Yeah,” Chris said, a little more quietly now. “I’ve gotten offers from some big-name schools—Inashiro Industrial, Ichidaisan High, Komadai Fujimaki, Hakuryū… all of them went to Koshien. It’s not an easy choice.” He let out a long breath. “I know I always talked about going to Seidou ‘cause it’s Dad’s alma mater, but… the other schools are tempting too.”

“Woah!” Eijun gasped. “Those are all huge names!”

“You still have time to decide, right?” Eiko added, glancing at his brother. “You don’t have to rush.”

Chris hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I’ve got some time.”

There was a comfortable pause before Chris cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going. Practice is about to start.”

“Alright, nii-chan! Have a good day!” the twins chorused, their voices bright again.

“Thanks! And hey—don’t stay up too late, alright? I’ll say goodnight now just in case. Talk to you soon, yeah?” Chris’s laughter echoed through the phone before the call ended.
  
“Hey, Chris-senpai,” Shirakawa’s voice drifted over the back of the couch, his eyes peeking curiously at the magazine in Chris’s hands. “What’re you reading? Is that the new Baseball Monthly?”
Chris didn’t look up right away, flipping to the next page with a casual air. The common room had the quiet buzz of a few guys staying behind to finish up homework or or group projects, while others sprawled on couches chatting idly. “Nah,” he finally answered, holding the magazine up briefly for Shirakawa to see. “This is Junior Baseball —It’s kinda like the American equivalent to Baseball Monthly. My dad’s been subscribing to it for me since I started playing a few years back.”
“Woah, a newsletter from overseas?” Shirakawa’s eyes widened in interest. “That’s cool! I keep forgetting you’re not from here…”

Chris shrugged, his eyes flicking back to the article. “Yeah, I guess I don’t mention it much.”

“Still,” Shirakawa said, sliding onto the couch next to him, “anything interesting in there?”

“Well,” Chris said blithely, “if you think seeing my twin baby brothers’ faces plastered all over it is interesting, then sure.” He flipped the page again, casually but with a clear fondness in his voice. “They’ve been featured a few times now. I guess that’s what happens when you’re talented and stubborn.”
“Wait, wait—what?” Shirakawa wasn’t the only one surprised; Zaizen, who’d been hovering nearby, nearly dropped his pencil. “You’ve got little brothers? And they’re famous? How come we only hear about this now?!”
Chris shot him a sidelong glance, raising a brow unimpressed. “You never asked.” He set the magazine down, turning to face them. “Technically, they’re my younger cousins, but we grew up together, so they might as well be my baby brothers. I’ve known them since the day they were born.”

Shirakawa squinted as if trying to imagine Chris in a different light. “Huh. Now that you mention it, you do seem like the ‘big brother’ type. Always so calm and level-headed.”

Matsuda, who had been lazily lying across a bean bag, now sat up, intrigued. “Wait, hold on, twins? That’s hardcore, man. My brother’s bad enough, and there’s only one of him.”

Chris grimaced, shaking his head at the memory. “Calm? Yeah, I had to be. Those two were always causing trouble—tiny terrors, really. And to top it off, they looked like little angels, so no one ever believed they could do any wrong— not that it worked with the family though. I can’t even count how many times I had to apologize on their behalf.” He ran a hand through his hair, recalling the little escapades.

Shirakawa blinked, looking incredulous. “You? Covering for them? That doesn’t sound like you, Chris-senpai.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t by choice,” Chris grumbled, though his smile suggested it was more of an affectionately exasperated memory than anything else. “They tricked me into doing their bidding more times than I can count. But, I guess I didn’t mind. They’re family.”

Zaizen shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine you giving in to a couple of kids.”

That startled a laugh out of Chris. “Ha, You’ve never met Eijun and Eiko. They could sell you sand in a desert when they put their minds to it and you’d be none the wiser until it’s too late. Or worse yet, you could tell when they're trying to scam you but you’d still fall for it - with a smile on your face even.”

“Eijun and Eiko?” Shirakawa repeated, testing the names out. “And they’re both good at baseball?”

Chris’s expression lit up with obvious pride. “Yeah. Jun’s the pitcher, Ko’s the catcher. They’ve been playing together since they could hold a ball. This season, Eijun’s the ace for their team, and Eiko got the starting catcher spot again— a twin battery really.”
He flipped back to a page in the magazine, showing them the picture of the U12 roster. “Here. That’s them, with their team.”
Shirakawa leaned in to inspect the photo. “They’re that good, huh? They look… I dunno, a bit older than I expected and tall too, or maybe it’s just the photo that appears that way.” He glanced up at Chris, impressed. “The both of them must be amazing if they’re getting scouted like this.”

“Scouted?” Matsuda asked, his voice pitching higher. “How old are they?”

“Twelve,” Chris said with a smile. “Last year, they got picked for the national team in the Junior League World Series. They told me that they’ve been invited to join the U13 roster next season.”
Zaizen gave a low whistle. “Damn. That’s… I mean, I always knew you were good - like out of the charts good Chris, but it sounds like your ‘baby brothers’ are on another level. Baseball seems to run in your family.”
“They work hard,” Chris admitted, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. “But they’re still kids. And sometimes they tend get too ahead of themselves.”

Shirakawa was still staring at the picture. “Maybe I’ll get to see them play next year,” he mused, the gears in his head visibly turning. Then, his eyes brightened, and he turned to Chris, determination in his voice. “Senpai, how do I beat them? Just in case I get to play against them that is.”

Chris blinked, then burst out laughing. “You really think I’m going to sell them out like that?!” He ruffled Shirakawa’s hair with a grin.

Shirakawa groaned, leaning back. “But you could give me a hint, right? Just one?”

“Sorry,” Chris said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “No can do. Besides, I haven’t seen them in two years. They’re bound to have gotten better since then. But hey, if you ever get the chance to face them, you’ll do fine. Just give it your best shot. And who knows? Maybe they’ll be the ones worrying about you.”

Zaizen scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re way too calm about all of this. If I were you, I’d be bragging to everyone.”

Chris shrugged with a smirk. “I don’t need to brag. We made a promise before parting and I am going to keep my part of the deal.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The first rays of the sun, were starting to peek through the horizon, dyeing the sky a lovely shade of lilac as the first-years gathered on Seido’s baseball field at 6 AM, the crisp morning air carrying a slight chill. A mist clung to the grass, softening the edges of the world around them, but the seriousness of the occasion was unmistakable. Coach Kataoka stood ahead of them, arms folded, while the second- and third-years watched from their positions, eyes sharp despite the early hour.

Chris Takigawa stood in the line of new recruits, his breath visible in the cool air. He didn’t know the others well yet—just a few faces he’d seen around—but he could sense the intensity that each one carried, the same drive that had brought them all to Seido.

“This is the beginning of your journey at Seido,” Coach Kataoka’s voice cut through the stillness, commanding the attention of everyone present. “New players, you’ve been chosen to join Seido’s baseball program because of your potential,” he said, his tone steady but firm. “But potential alone won’t get you anywhere here. You’ll need to work hard every day, push yourselves beyond your limits, and earn your place on this team.”

The coach’s gaze swept across the first-years, lingering for a moment on each face. Chris squared his shoulders, ready to make his introduction.

“You’ll introduce yourselves now,” Coach Kataoka continued. “Name and position.”

Chris was the first to step forward. His heart raced, but his voice was calm. “Takigawa Yū Chris, catcher,” he said, giving a respectful bow to the coaches and upperclassmen. “I’m ready to work hard and learn from everyone.”

There were a few murmurs among the third-years, especially at the mention of his foreign-sounding name. Chris was used to that—he’d always stood out because of his mixed heritage. But he wasn’t here to make an impression with his background. He was here to prove himself on the field.

Next in line was a boy with pink hair, his posture relaxed but confident. “Kominato Ryōsuke, second baseman,” he said with a faint smirk, his voice casual, yet there was an underlying sharpness in his gaze.

A tall, broad-shouldered boy stepped forward next, his expression set in determination. “Isashiki Jun, my original position was pitcher, but I plan on shifting to the outfield.”
‘Jun huh?’ Chris thought amused, thinking about his little brother.
Another first-year followed, much larger in stature than the others. “Masuko Toru, third baseman,” he introduced himself, his voice deep and steady, his presence quiet yet commanding.

Finally, a boy with an air of quiet authority stepped forward, his dark hair slightly ruffled by the morning breeze. “Yūki Tetsuya, first baseman,” he said in a low, confident voice. There was something about him that instantly drew Chris’s attention—a natural leader, even among the first-years.

With each introduction, Chris felt a growing sense of camaraderie, a connection between them all, even if they didn’t know each other yet. These were his teammates—his future rivals, his future allies.
  
A very, very, very long time ago, Shirakawa had actually enjoyed hearing stories about emperors and princes. His parents had always kept educational programs running on the television to keep him in one place if they were too busy to watch over him. His distant memories brought back the feeling of tatami mats digging into his knees as he knelt to work on writing worksheets from school. In the background, a small television perched atop a scratched wooden stand buzzed with historical specials about Japan’s legendary figures—lords, samurai, and emperors. The soft clash of swords combined with the velvet tones of the female narrator had lulled young Shirakawa into a state of quiet fascination.

Over time, however, he had outgrown these childhood fantasies. Those stories, once brimming with honor and intrigue, became relics of a past more suited to old men clinging to their glory days. What place did samurai have in a world where baseball reigned supreme? He scoffed now at the notion of "princes," especially after meeting the modern-day equivalents on the field. Baseball had its own version of a feudal class system, and Shirakawa hated his role in it.

Infielders and outfielders were the rank-and-file soldiers, mere servants to the pitcher, who ruled from their lofty throne atop the mound. Coaches tried to sell the idea that everyone was equally important, but Shirakawa wasn’t fooled. He’d seen enough games to know that pitchers received all the glory. Fans bowed at their feet, idolizing them as if they were gods. Everyone but Chris-senpai. Chris, at least, had been different. He’d been the one doing the ruling on the field.
Still, Shirakawa’s disdain for pitchers had mellowed somewhat after watching the American team—particularly Chris-senpai’s younger brothers.
He had heard plenty about the twins from his senpai, but the praise carried extra weight knowing how hard-earned it was. When Chris-senpai complimented someone, it was never empty flattery. And now, seeing the twins in action, Shirakawa found himself transfixed. The crowd’s roar had only intensified the moment they stepped onto the field, commanding attention as they moved with an almost regal air. He had watched Eijun—his every pitch a display of strength and precision—stand tall on the mound like a monarch, yet still call upon his teammates to have his back. That balance between power and camaraderie was something he was unused too. The twins worked as a unit, unlike most of the batteries Shirakawa had encountered. It was beautiful, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the sting of envy.

“The American team was strong,” Carlos remarked casually as the three of them made their way out of the stands, weaving through the thinning crowd. The buzz of the game’s aftermath still hung in the air, but Carlos’s voice remained calm, as though the intense match they’d just witnessed hadn’t rattled him in the slightest.
“Who cares?” Mei muttered, his steps heavy with frustration. He kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes darting away from the field as if avoiding the sight of the scoreboard could somehow change the outcome.
Carlos’s lips twitched into a knowing smile. “I heard they won Worlds last year, too.”

“A home advantage!” Mei snapped, his tone sharp and defensive. It was clear the loss had gotten under his skin.

Shirakawa shot him an unimpressed look. “You sound like a spoiled brat. My ears are bleeding from all your whining.”

“I’m not whining!” Mei snapped, though the petulance in his voice betrayed him. “And for the record, I can whine all I want.”

Carlos chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re only mad because you were rooting for Korea, and now it’s a harder pill to swallow since we lost to a team that didn’t make it to the final.”
Mei scowled, clearly not ready to concede the point. “I know !” His words were clipped, biting.
Before Shirakawa could land a well-timed jab, a pair of voices called out from behind them, prompting all three to stop in their tracks. “Hey! Shirakawa!”

Shirakawa glanced over his shoulder, his expression neutral as he spotted two boys making their way through the crowd toward them. Even from a distance, it was easy to tell who they were. Tall for their age, the twins were impossible to miss, their matching brown hair tousled and bright, almost golden-brown eyes reflecting the sunlight that poured into the stadium. They walked with a confident ease, the kind of presence that turned heads. Their broad shoulders and lean builds spoke of countless hours of practice, making other pitchers Shirakawa had met seem fragile in comparison.

“Shit,” Carlos muttered as they approached. “Those are the guys from the American team. You know them?”

“No…” Shirakawa replied slowly. “But I know of them.” He had never met them personally, but it was impossible to miss who they were. These were Chris-senpai’s cousins, the ones he had spoken so highly of. Up close, they were every bit as impressive as they had seemed on the field.

One of the twins broke into a grin as soon as they caught up. “You’re Shirakawa, right?” His voice was full of energy, his eyes shining with curiosity.

Shirakawa raised an eyebrow but maintained his aloof demeanor. “Yes. And you are…?”

The other twin chimed in, his voice just as animated as his brother’s. “We’re Eijun and Eiko Sawamura! Nice to meet you!”

‘Great,’ Shirakawa thought dryly, ‘Still doesn’t tell me which is which.’

“Chris-nii-chan told us about you—” Eiko began.

“Said he had a talented shortstop on the team—” Eijun picked up.

“And since Chris-nii doesn’t make it a habit to throw around compliments for fun—”

“We figured you had to be the real deal!” they finished in unison, their words bouncing off one another in a dizzying rhythm.

Shirakawa gave up trying to track which twin was talking. They seemed to share the same brain, anyway.

Before Shirakawa could respond, one of the twins caught sight of Mei, who was standing off to the side, arms still crossed like he was guarding himself from their enthusiasm and wearing an expression of mild disdain.

“How do you know them?” Mei demanded, his tone sharp.

“My former senpai is their brother,” Shirakawa replied flatly, shooting Mei a side-eye.

Mei sniffed, turning to the twins with an air of challenge.  “Don’t think you’re the best just because you won today! The next time we meet, I’ll make it all the way to the top, challenge you and win! And you!” He jabbed a finger in Eijun’s direction. “What was that last pitch you threw away?”

Eijun blinked, then exchanged a glance with Eiko before flashing Mei a teasing smile. “I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

The twins grinned in unison, their amusement evident. “We like you,” they said together. “What’re your names?”

Mei stiffened, momentarily caught off guard by their sudden interest. “Narumiya Mei.”

“Kamiya Carlos,” Carlos added smoothly.

“Great!” The twins beamed. “Carlos and Mei-Mei then.”

Mei’s face turned red, his jaw clenching. “Who’re you calling Mei-Mei? Don’t call me that!” He cried out offended.

Eijun laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s cute! Don’t you think, Ko?”
Carlos and Shirakawa exchanged glances, both thinking the same thing: There’s nothing cute about Narumiya Mei. “I’m not cute!” Mei huffed, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m handsome! Very handsome!”
Eiko’s grin widened. “I think you’re cute, Mei-Mei!”

“Call me something with more dignity!” Mei demanded, visibly flustered. “Like ‘the King.’”

The twins giggled, and Eijun shrugged. “I don’t think you’re a king.”

“If anything, you’re a prince,” Eiko chimed in. “And even that wouldn’t be accurate,” he added as an afterthought.

Mei paused, then contemplated with a raised eyebrow. “A prince huh?”

The twins exchanged another glance before shaking their heads in unison. “Nope! We like Mei-Mei best.”
Mei deflated slightly, his arms dropping a little. “Thirteen-year-olds are so annoying,” he muttered under his breath, earning another round of grins from the twins.  
Locked in the storeroom, Chris sat slumped beside one of the storage bins, his back pressed against the cool metal. His breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to steady himself, but the tears had already escaped, sliding down his cheeks. His chest felt tight, each breath heavy with guilt and frustration.

He fumbled for his phone, the cold screen lighting up in his hands. For a moment, he just stared at it, thumb hovering over the contact list. Then, with a sigh, he found the twins’ shared number and hit the call button.

It rang twice before Eijun’s voice burst through the speaker. “Chris! You never call first!”

Chris choked out a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “Yeah, well… figured it was about time.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, the line crackling with static before Eiko’s softer voice came in. “Chris, what’s wrong?”

Chris swallowed, his throat tightening again. They knew him too well. “We… lost.”
“What?!” Eijun’s shout made Chris wince, and he could almost picture his younger cousin throwing his hands in the air. “But… you were supposed to win! You always win!”
“Not this time,” Chris said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We were so close, but… it wasn’t enough.”

There was silence for a moment before Eiko spoke up, his voice calm but full of concern. “What happened?”

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, the memories of the game flooding back in painful detail. “I made a bad call. Knew our pitcher was losing control, but I still called for an inside pitch. It ended up right down the middle. The batter hammered it out of the park.”

“Oh, man…” Eijun’s voice was softer now, his usual energy replaced with a rare stillness. “That sucks.”
“Yeah,” Chris agreed, leaning his head back against the cold metal of the bin. “It does.”
“You always have to carry the weight, don’t you, Chris?” Eiko’s voice cut through the quiet, sharper than usual. “You blame yourself even when it’s not all on you.”

Chris let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched the phone. “They trusted me. The upperclassmen… they put their last summer in my hands, and I let them down.”

“You didn’t let them down,” Eiko said, firm. “You made the best call you could in the moment. Sometimes… things just don’t go your way.”
Chris blinked, surprised by the maturity in Eiko’s voice. “You really think that?”
“I know it.” Eiko’s tone was unwavering. “And I bet your team knows it, too.”
Chris let the silence settle between them, the twins’ quiet reassurance easing some of the weight on his chest.
“Hey, Chris?” Eijun’s voice piped up again, more subdued than before. “You’re still the best catcher we know. No one can change that.”

Chris’s lips twitched into a small, tired smile. “Thanks, Eijun.”

Eijun’s tone brightened again, eager to cheer him up. “And when we play together again, we’re gonna crush everyone! Right, Ko?!”

“Definitely,” Eiko agreed, his voice warm with quiet confidence. “We’ve still got a promise to keep, remember? So don’t just let this loss take you down.”

Chris closed his eyes, his grip on the phone loosening as the weight on his chest began to lift. The pain was still there, but it felt bearable now, knowing he had them—his cousins, his teammates in spirit—cheering him on from across the ocean.
“You’re right,” Chris said, his voice steadying. “We will.”  
“Hey, Redhead! Shirakawa!” Mei’s voice rang out as he approached with that all-too-familiar grin stretched across his face. It had only been a month since the Junior World Series, and now they found themselves facing off on opposite sides again. Shirakawa gave a curt nod in acknowledgment.

“You’re pretty good.”

Shirakawa raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“Whoa, prickly as always, aren’t we?” Mei’s grin didn’t falter, but there was an unmistakable gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Relax. I didn’t come to pick a fight. Not today at least.”
Shirakawa sighed internally, feeling a headache slowly building. He knew this routine with Mei by now. “So what did you come for?”

“I like winning,” Mei said, as if it were the simplest truth in the world. “And I need good players around me to make that happen. You interested?”

Shirakawa blinked, catching onto the undertone. “Is this… an invitation?”

Mei’s grin grew wider, if that was even possible. “Delivered personally, by yours truly. Feel honored.”

Despite himself, Shirakawa nearly smirked. Mei was one of the few people who could make him second-guess himself. Usually, it came down to batting—just when he thought he had his timing down on an outside pitch, Mei would pitch something that made him feel like an amateur.

“You building your own dream team now?” Shirakawa asked, trying not to let his own satisfaction slip through. ‘And you realised you need me, huh?’

Mei’s eyes gleamed, brimming with confidence. “Something like that. I’ve got a plan. We’re going to win everything with an all-star team.” He tapped his chest with bravado. “Congrats, you made the cut.”

“Who else?” Shirakawa crossed his arms, not quite ready to let himself look too eager.

“Kamiya, Yamaoka, and Yabe are already in.” Mei’s gaze shifted momentarily to the dugout in the distance, and for a second, the brightness in his eyes dimmed. “And Miyuki… but he’s going to be tricky.”

Shirakawa’s lip curled slightly at the mention of Miyuki. He’d just faced the guy, and while Miyuki was decent at batting, he had only gotten on base after an error by their third baseman. And yet, despite that, Shirakawa had a gut feeling—Mei would drop all of them if it meant getting Miyuki on his side.

“Why him?” Shirakawa asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. “There are better catchers out there.”

Mei’s grin faltered for the briefest moment, and his tone turned more serious. “Maybe. But he’s the best in our generation.” He thought for a second, then added, “Though… Eiko’s catching up to him.”

The tension between them settled into a strange quiet. Shirakawa noticed Mei’s expression shifting slightly at the mention of Eiko, but it disappeared just as quickly. Mei gave a half-hearted smile, trying to brush the moment aside. “Anyway, we’re gathering next weekend to show Miyuki what he’s missing out on. You’ll be there, right?”

“I haven’t even agreed to be on your team,” Shirakawa said flatly, unimpressed by Mei’s assumption.

Mei winked. “You will. I’m an offer no one can resist.”

Shirakawa raised an eyebrow, tempted to point out the obvious flaw in that statement—Miyuki—but something about the way Mei’s mood shifted when the catcher came up made him hold his tongue. Miyuki was clearly a sore spot for Mei—for whatever reasons—and pressing the issue wasn’t worth the headache. Besides, in Shirakawa’s mind, Miyuki wasn’t all that special—definitely not worth Mei bending over backwards for. Sure, he was a good catcher, maybe even on par with Eiko, but as a hitter, he was inconsistent. And compared to Chris-senpai, Miyuki was nothing.

As expected, Miyuki turned Mei’s offer down the following weekend. After the rejection, the group made plans to hang out for the rest of the evening, but Shirakawa declined, as was his habit. Surprisingly, Mei also passed on joining the others. As the group began to disperse, Shirakawa paused, glancing back toward the field. He spotted Mei sitting on one of the steps, elbows on his knees, chin resting in his hands.

Against his better judgment, Shirakawa found himself walking over to Mei’s slumped figure. He stopped beside him but didn’t say anything at first.

“I knew he’d say no,” Mei muttered, staring ahead without looking up. “But man, it still stings.”

Shirakawa hesitated before responding. “We don’t need him. We can win without him.”

Mei gave a small, laugh. “Obviously. We’ll crush Seido every time. I know that.” His tone was confident, but his eyes told a different story. He sighed. “I think I just… hoped, you know? Too much.”

Shirakawa tilted his head slightly, puzzled by the sentiment. “Why him, though? Why’s he so special to you?”

Mei shrugged, finally standing up and dusting off his pants. “I dunno. He’s just… a friend, I guess.” Then, as if flipping a switch, his usual energy returned. “Anyway, enough of that. My parents gave me some money. Want to get ice cream?”

Shirakawa blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Ice cream? That’s what you want to spend it on?”

Mei grinned mischievously. “Hey, if they didn’t want me to blow it on dessert, they shouldn’t have trusted me with it. C’mon! My treat.”

Before Shirakawa could protest, Mei grabbed his wrist and practically dragged him down the street, his earlier disappointment already pushed to the back of his mind.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

The night pressed down on him, thick and stifling. Miyuki Kazuya leaned against the dugout rail, his breath shallow, each inhale feeling like a futile attempt to claw his way back to normalcy. No matter how much air he dragged into his lungs, the weight in his chest refused to lift.

It felt as though the world had shifted without warning, spinning off its axis. The joy—the fierce, unshakable love he had for the game—had been stripped away, leaving only an aching void.

“Regular Catcher: First Year, Miyuki Kazuya.”

The coach’s announcement replayed in his mind like a broken record, every word striking with the precision of a blade. The reactions around him had been immediate: the sharp gasp of disbelief from the team, the tense silence that settled over the dugout like a fog. Kuramochi, standing beside him, had gone unnervingly still, his usual energy replaced by a bristling unease.
“Regular Catcher.”
He repeated the words silently, his jaw tightening as he tried to process their weight.
Miyuki Kazuya.

This was what he wanted—or at least, it was supposed to be.

He stared down at his hands, gripping the cool metal of the rail so tightly that his fingers ached. He had dreamed of this moment, worked relentlessly for it, molded every piece of himself into the kind of player who could one day claim the regular spot.

But not like this.

When Kazuya had first arrived at Seidou, ambition had coursed through his veins like a second heartbeat. He had sought out the second year catcher with an intensity that bordered on obsession. Takigawa Chris Yuu—his idol, his rival, the player whose shadow he had chased since that fateful day. Chris had been everything Kazuya wasn’t: disciplined, steadfast, trusted by teammates who looked to him for guidance.
From the moment Kazuya joined the baseball club, he had set his sights on one goal: to surpass Chris. To prove that his skill, his instincts, his cunning on the field could outshine even Seidou’s rising star catcher.
And when he’d learned that Chris was the team’s undisputed main catcher, Kazuya had felt a thrill that was equal parts excitement and dread. He’d seen it as a challenge—a monumental task, but one he was determined to conquer.

Each practice, each game, had brought him closer. He had pushed himself to his limits, honed his craft, and prepared for the inevitable clash. He had dreamed of the day he would stand beside Chris, look him in the eye, and earn the title of Seidou’s regular catcher.

But that day would never come.

His hands trembled as he gripped the rail, frustration boiling beneath his skin.

Chris wasn’t standing beside him now. He wasn’t even in the dugout.
An injury. A torn subscapularis tendon and pronator quadratus had stolen that possibility away.
Kazuya swallowed hard, the words burning like acid in his throat. The injury hadn’t come from carelessness or recklessness. It was the result of Chris’s unyielding dedication, his willingness to shoulder the team’s burdens without complaint. He had played through the pain, kept it hidden from everyone, until his body had finally reached its breaking point.

And now, the price had been paid.

Surgery. A recovery timeline that stretched for a year, if not longer. A year on the sidelines. His high school career effectively ended.

Kazuya closed his eyes.

Takigawa Chris Yuu had been wiped from the team list by a damaged joint, not by Kazuya. Not by the relentless efforts of an ambitious, sharp-tongued first year. Not by skill honed through endless hours in the bullpen or clever place crafted under pressure.

No. The regular spot had been handed to him by something as cruel, mundane as a torn tendon.

This wasn’t how he wanted it. He hadn’t fought for the regular spot just to inherit it by default.

This victory didn’t feel like a victory at all.

Frustration surged through him, a bitter, unrelenting tide. He clenched his fist, the tremor of restrained anger spilling over as he brought it down against the cold steel of the rail. The sharp sting bit into his skin, but he welcomed it—it was something tangible, something that made sense in a night that felt incomprehensibly hollow.

He had tried to keep the anger at bay, tried to swallow it down. But now, alone in the suffocating darkness, it surged unchecked.

The campus was quiet at this hour. Most of the others were either back at the dorms or grinding away in the indoor training gyms, refining their swings, their pitches, or whatever weaknesses plagued them. Normally, Kazuya would have been right there with them—in the bullpen, maybe, calling pitches, or in the weight room, hurling smart remarks at Maezono’s less-than-graceful attempts at the batting machine.

Kuramochi’s high-pitched laughter would ring out in the background, always quick to amplify the chaos. In six weeks, Kazuya had carved out a space for himself in Seidou’s world—a space where he could needle, banter, and prod without hesitation. Here, they were all cut from the same cloth, united in their relentless pursuit of baseball greatness. Here, even if his sharp tongue grated on their nerves, they tolerated him because he delivered.

And yet, for all the camaraderie he’d begun to build, Kazuya’s focus had never wavered.

Chris.

The thought of him was like a shadow, ever-present, looming over every moment.

From the dugout, Kazuya had watched Chris in action, the mask covering his sharp, determined gaze as he guided the team. He had studied his movements with the intensity of a predator marking its prey—every word Chris exchanged with the pitchers, every subtle adjustment in his stance, every call made from behind the plate.

Even when Kazuya and Kuramochi were making bets on ridiculous outcomes—who’d score first, which call the battery would make, who’d strike out—it was all a distraction, a mask for where his real focus lay.

Chris.

While the others laughed, cursed, or teased, Miyuki watched. He learned. He analyzed. Chris wasn’t just a senior to him; he was the standard Kazuya measured himself against. Kuramochi might egg him on with pranks, and Maezono might grumble at his rice plate being loaded to overflowing, but none of it truly mattered in the grand scheme of things.

Chris was the only one who did.

But now, Chris was gone.

Benched. Sidetracked. Reduced to an observer, his career put on indefinite hold by a cruel twist of fate.

Kazuya lowered himself onto the bench, his body heavy with frustration and an unshakable sense of loss. His fingers traced the worn grain of the wood absently, the rhythm steadying him as he tried to sift through the chaos in his head.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He wasn’t oblivious to the ripples his promotion had caused. He could feel the tension radiating from every corner of the team. Miyauchi’s glowering disdain at being bested by a first year; the hushed grumbles of the third years who’d seen their chances vanish in an instant; even the pitchers, gathered together like conspirators, casting sidelong glances at him.
And then there was Azuma, the cleanup hitter, who didn’t bother to hide his contempt, offering only a derisive snort before turning his back.
Kazuya knew how precarious his position was. But he could handle all of that. He could face their scorn, prove them wrong. But what he couldn’t handle—what gnawed at him now—was the absence of the one rival who truly mattered.

Chris wasn’t just another player. He was the standard. And without him, kazuya felt adrift.

“Oi, what are you doing down here, lurking in the shadows like a creepy stalker?”

The harsh tone cut through Kazuya’s spiraling thoughts, and he hurriedly pushed his glasses back onto his nose, twisting his features into a nonchalant smirk as he looked up.

“Hiding from you annoying folk, of course. What else?” he said breezily. “I was afraid you might mob me for autographs now that I’m a starter. Figured I’d spare you the trouble.”

Kuramochi snorted, crossing the short distance between them and swiping his hand lightly across the back of Kazuya’s head. “Don’t get so full of yourself. Nobody’s that impressed with you—except yourself.”

Kazuya laughed, though the sound lacked its usual bite. “You wound me, Kuramochi-kun. And here I was, thinking I’d finally won you over.”

“Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.” Kuramochi leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he gave the catcher a critical once-over. “Seriously, though. What are you doing down here? You’re not usually the type to miss your chance to show off.”

Kazuya hesitated for half a beat, then shrugged. “Strategizing,” he said, slipping the word out with practiced ease. “Unlike you, I prefer to have a plan before diving headfirst into things.”

“Strategizing, huh?” Kuramochi’s voice dripped with skepticism. “Is that what we’re calling hiding now?” He grinned, his expression turning impish. “Don’t tell me you’re scared stiff about catching for Akira-senpai in a real game. That’s it, isn’t it? You’re shaking in your boots at the thought of messing up in front of everyone.”

Kazuya clicked his tongue, his smirk returning in full force. “Your jealousy is showing again. Green’s not a good look on you.”

“Jealous?” Kuramochi laughed outright, the sound echoing through the dugout. “Of what? Your oversized ego? Get real.”
“No, of my talent, obviously,” Kazuya shot back, adjusting his glasses with exaggerated flair.
“Listen to you.” Kuramochi’s foot bumped lazily against Miyuki’s leg, a light jab that lacked any real malice. “Talking big… You really piss me off sometimes,” he growled, though Kazuya could tell there wasn’t any true heat behind it.

He sighed dramatically. “Well, that’s nothing new. I’m practically a professional at that. If it bothers you so much, you don’t have to stick around. I was doing just fine on my own.”

Kuramochi smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “And miss the chance to witness this rare display of self-pity? No way. Besides, have you seen the way Miyauchi-senpai was glaring at you? Tanba-senpai looked like he wanted to throttle you, and Azuma-senpai? He just straight-up laughed. You really want to step onto the field with all that hanging over your head? I didn’t realize you were such a sadist as well as an asshole.”

“Masochist.”

“Huh?”

“You mean masochist, not sadist.” Kazuya adjusted his glasses, his tone smug. “Seriously, you should brush up on your vocabulary now that you’re in high school.”

“Meh.” Kuramochi shrugged, his expression twisting into a disgusted scowl. “Well, you’d know. You’re probably both, anyway.”

“Touché.”

“Either way,” Kuramochi continued, his tone lightening but still tinged with warning, “the mood out there is heavy. You’re gonna have to face it eventually. Takigawa-senpai’s hella popular. The team loves him. Think you can live up to that? I mean, just look at you.”

He cast Kazuya an exaggeratedly disparaging look, letting the silence stretch for dramatic effect.

“You’re practically a shrimp in comparison.”

Kazuya bristled, shooting him a glare. “That’s rich, coming from you. I’m taller than you, and you know it.”

“Maybe,” Kuramochi conceded with a nonchalant shrug, “but I’m not the one competing with Takigawa-senpai. You are. And, for the record, out in my part of the field… well, let’s just say the height comparison works in my favor more than it does in yours.”

“Ryou-san would kill you if he heard that,” Kazuya his lips curving into a faint, mischievous grin. His eyes glinted with a sharpness that belied his casual tone. Kuramochi snorted, leaning against the dugout wall with a careless shrug.
“Yeah, well, he’s not here, is he? And I’m not dumb enough to tell him. You gonna snitch, Miyuki? Doesn’t seem like your style.”
“Not my problem,” the catcher replied evenly, rolling his shoulders.

“Thought so,” Kuramochi smirked. “You’ve got bigger fish to fry, anyway. Place’s been like a funeral since Takigawa-senpai’s injury. Creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. Felt like we were about to start passing around incense sticks or something.”

Kazuya gave him a sideways glance. “It’s not like he’s out forever.”

“Yeah, yeah. He’ll be back—eventually. But not before you’re tossed into your first game without a safety net,” Kuramochi said pointedly, his tone half-teasing, half-serious. “You sure you can handle it? Pretty grim crowd to impress out there. Maybe it’s better that he’s not watching, though—less pressure on your delicate nerves.”
“Delicate?” Kazuya snorted, stretching his arms above his head with deliberate nonchalance. “I’ll play. That’s all there is to it. Doesn’t matter who’s watching—or who isn’t. Hostile crowds, pressure—it’s nothing new for me. I was the first-string catcher back at my old team, remember? Being noticed early? Proving my worth? It’s just how it’s always been. I’m not about to screw up the senpai’s summer.”
Kuramochi raised a brow, unimpressed. “Oh, the confidence. Real inspiring. Just remember, if you screw it up, we’re all going down with you. You’d better make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Kazuya’s lips curled into a smirk, sharp and taunting. “Maybe you’re the one who’s scared, Kuramochi. Afraid the scary senpai will take it out on you if I mess up? Or maybe you’re worried you’ll miss having me in the dugout to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Kuramochi laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “Don’t flatter yourself. Just because the girls in our class squeal every time you smile doesn’t mean you’re hot stuff. And anyway, we could fight about it,” he added, his tone contemplative. “But Seidou’s already short one catcher. Don’t think the coach would be thrilled if I took out the replacement.”
“Now who’s hyping themselves up?” Kazuya shot him a sidelong glance.
Kuramochi’s grin darkened, a sinister edge creeping into his smile as he cracked his knuckles. “You don’t wanna test me, Miyuki. Trust me.”

“How scary can you be?” The catcher countered, unimpressed. “That’s Big Talk for someone who follows Ryou-san around like a lost puppy,” Kazuya shot back, his tone dry.

Kuramochi stiffened, then exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. “I’m learning from him. That’s what you do with people who are better than you. And don’t act like you’re any different. You’re bummed about Takigawa-senpai, aren’t you? Missing the chance to learn from him?”

Kazuya hesitated, his smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “What are you even talking about?”

Kuramochi grinned, seeing his opening. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t play dumb. Everyone’s noticed. You go all polite and weird around him. It’s like watching a puppy wagging its tail. You say I’m bad with Ryou-san? You’re worse with Takigawa-senpai.”

“I’m not,” Kazuya said, irritation creeping into his voice.

“Sure you’re not,” Kuramochi teased. “What, do you have a crush on him or something?”

“Kuramochi.”

“What? Just saying what everyone else is thinking.”
“Why are you even in my face about this?” Kazuya demanded. “We’re not friends. And even if we were, it’s none of your business.”
Kuramochi shrugged, unbothered. “We’re teammates, aren’t we? That counts for something.”

Teammates
, huh?

The catcher stared at him, momentarily at a loss for words. Kuramochi smirked at his silence, leaning in closer. “It’s fine to be pissed, y’know. Actually makes you seem more human. Hell, some of us were betting you didn’t have a soul. But if you do care about Takigawa-senpai, I guess you’re human after all. Barely.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Kazuya snapped, color rising to his cheeks.

Kuramochi cackled, clapping a hand against the others back with enough force to make the catcher stagger. “C’mon. Let’s go bat. You can pretend the ball’s my head if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I could just smash your head for real,” Kazuya muttered darkly, rubbing his spine.

Kuramochi grinned, sharp and unrepentant. “Like you’d ever manage that. Just be glad I’m not in the mood to get benched for breaking the new starting catcher. Let’s go, rookie.”

With that, he strode toward the field, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t keep me waiting, Miyuki. You’ve got something to prove, right?”

Kazuya followed, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips despite himself.
  
Waking up was like surfacing from a dark, heavy sea, each blink forcing him closer to a reality he didn’t want to face. Chris stared at the stark white ceiling of the hospital room, its blankness offering no answers, no comfort. His shoulder ached—not the sharp, immediate pain he’d learned to grit his teeth through, but a dull, hollow throb that seeped into his bones.

The surgery was over. That much he knew. But what came next was a chasm of uncertainty, one he couldn’t bring himself to peer into.

He shifted slightly, the stiffness in his body making him wince. Every motion reminded him of the truth he’d tried so hard to outrun. His high school career—his chance to stand tall for Seido, to lead them to Koshien—was over.

He had ruined it.

The thought coiled around his chest, squeezing tighter with each breath. Chris had always known the risks of pushing too hard, ignoring the pain. But he had convinced himself that he could handle it, that his body would hold out. After all, wasn’t he the pillar of the team? The steady hand behind the plate? He had been so consumed by that belief, so desperate to meet everyone’s expectations, that he had flown too close to the sun.

Now, he was Icarus, wings melted and broken, plummeting toward the unforgiving sea.

Chris closed his eyes, his breathing uneven. The worst part wasn’t the pain or even the looming uncertainty. It was the sense of betrayal—toward his team, toward himself, and especially toward the two people who mattered most.

Eijun and Eiko.

Their faces came to him unbidden, bright with youthful determination. They had always looked up to him, their unwavering admiration burning like a beacon. Chris had been their guide, their role model, the one who’d introduced them to the beauty of baseball.

And now?

How could he face them like this? How could he admit that he’d been reckless, that he’d let his pride take precedence over everything else?

The image of Eijun’s face crumpling in disbelief made his chest ache even more than his shoulder. Eiko would be different—silent, his disappointment cutting deeper than any words ever could.

Chris clenched his teeth. He didn’t want them to find out. Didn’t want them to see him like this—laid out in a hospital bed, his future uncertain, his dreams shattered. They didn’t need to know how far he had fallen, how close to hopelessness he had come.

But it was inevitable, wasn’t it? They would find out, eventually. And when they did, they would ask why. Why hadn’t he spoken up? Why hadn’t he stopped when he felt the first twinge of pain?

Because he couldn’t. Because he had thought he could push through.

The memory of the game where it all went wrong clawed its way to the surface. He could still feel the sting in his shoulder, the way it had faltered in the middle of a crucial throw. He had known then—deep down—that something was wrong. But instead of stepping back, he had pressed on, refusing to show weakness.

He had been so desperate to be the unwavering rock for everyone else that he hadn’t allowed himself to crack, even when he should have. And now, he was paying the price.

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above him, a sound that only amplified the oppressive silence. Chris opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer him a way out. But there was none.

His shoulder might heal. It might not. Even if it did, the odds of regaining the strength and precision he needed to compete at this level were slim. By the time he could throw again, his team would have moved on. The pitchers would have new catchers, the roster new leaders.

Seido didn’t wait for anyone.

The thought crushed him, but not as much as the image of Eijun and Eiko, still soaring on their own paths. He didn’t want them to follow him into this fall.

Chris exhaled shakily, the weight of his choices bearing down on him. He had been their guide, their rock. But now, all he could offer was the lesson of his failure—a warning to never let pride or fear of weakness push them too far.

Icarus had flown high, yes. But in his hubris, he had ignored the warnings, and the sun had burned him away.

Chris didn’t want that for them. Yet here he was, the cautionary tale they would have to learn from. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into the sheets.

He had thought he could carry everything. But now, all he carried was regret.