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The moment Asahi's first pitch hit Miyuki's glove, it felt like time stood still for just a fraction of a second. For the first time in years, he was back on the mound back where he had once thrived, but also where everything had fallen apart. The sound of the ball thudding into the catcher's mitt, the firm "Strike!" from the umpire, and the cheers of his teammates rang in his ears, but all he could think about was the sensation of the ball leaving his hand.
For a moment, it felt right.
Miyuki signaled for another fastball, and Asahi, still uncertain but fueled by adrenaline, nodded. He set himself up, took a breath, and wound up for the next pitch. The familiar motion of his arm, the grip of the ball against his fingers, felt mechanical, like muscle memory taking over. He threw.
Thud!
"Strike two!"
The batter scowled, gripping his bat tighter, clearly frustrated by the speed and accuracy of Asahi's pitch. Asahi took another deep breath, trying to ignore the flash of doubt that flickered in his mind. He wasn't a pitcher anymore, he reminded himself. Not like before.
Miyuki, however, wasn't going to let him fall back into old habits.
"Focus," Miyuki called out from behind the plate, his voice calm but commanding. "Trust yourself, Kuroda."
But Asahi's mind wasn't entirely on the game. As he wound up for the next pitch, memories of that fateful day began to creep in. He could still see it the ball slipping from his grip, the batter's eyes widening in horror, and then… the sickening thud as the fastball hit the batter in the head. The fear and guilt that had consumed him after that moment returned, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
The windup, the release it all felt wrong suddenly, like his body was betraying him. The ball left his hand, but this time, it veered too far outside.
"Ball!" the umpire called.
Asahi's heart raced, his chest tightening with anxiety. He could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, the weight of their expectations bearing down on him. He clenched his fist, trying to push the memories aside.
But they wouldn't leave him.
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Flashback
It was the championship game in middle school. Asahi had been on top of the world, the ace pitcher of his team, undefeated throughout the season. His fastball was feared, his control unmatched. Scouts had already started eyeing him, and the future seemed set until it wasn't.
He could still remember the crack of the bat, the steady rhythm of the game, and then the moment it all went wrong. He had gone for a fastball, his most reliable pitch, but something had gone off in the release. He had known it the moment it left his fingers.
The batter never stood a chance. The ball had hit him square in the temple, and he collapsed to the ground before anyone could react. The stadium had gone silent, and Asahi's world had shattered in that instant.
The image of the player being carried off the field on a stretcher, the sound of the ambulance sirens, the weeks of guilt that followed it had been enough to break him. He never wanted to stand on a mound again after that. He couldn't.
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Back to the present
Miyuki could sense the change in Asahi's demeanor immediately. The moment that one bad pitch left his hand, Asahi's confidence crumbled. His shoulders slumped slightly, and the calm focus he had shown earlier was starting to slip.
"Hey," Miyuki called out again, his voice sharper this time. "Stay with me. You're not that kid anymore."
Asahi swallowed hard, nodding, but his hands were trembling. His mind kept drifting back to that one pitch, the one that had ruined everything. His breath quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know if he could do it. What if he hurt someone again? What if—
Suddenly, a voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.
"Kuroda!"
It was Eijun, shouting from the dugout. His voice was loud, full of energy and defiance. "You've got this! Just throw! Don't think—just throw!"
Asahi looked toward him, startled by the sudden outburst. Eijun was leaning over the railing, his fists clenched, his eyes full of determination.
"You're a pitcher!" Eijun continued, his voice unwavering. "Show us what you've got! You're not gonna mess up! We're all behind you!"
The entire dugout was watching, their eyes filled with encouragement rather than judgment. Even Furuya, quiet as always, nodded in Asahi's direction. And then there was Miyuki, crouched behind the plate, his eyes locked on Asahi's, steady and reassuring.
It was just a practice game. But to Asahi, it was more than that it was his first real step toward overcoming the demons that had haunted him for years.
Taking a deep breath, Asahi tightened his grip on the ball. He felt the weight of the mound beneath him, the familiar feel of the ball against his fingertips. This was what he knew, what he had trained for all those years ago.
He could do this.
Miyuki gave the signal—another fastball, inside corner.
Asahi nodded, his body moving instinctively. He wound up, the motion feeling smoother this time, more natural. He released the ball with precision, watching it fly through the air, fast and true.
Thud!
"Strike three!"
The umpire's call was like music to Asahi's ears. The batter, caught completely off guard by the pitch, stood frozen for a moment before trudging back to the dugout.
Cheers erupted from the Seidou bench, and Asahi stood on the mound, his breath heavy but steady. His teammates rushed forward to greet him as he walked off the field, patting him on the back, their smiles infectious.
"Nice pitch!" Eijun yelled, running up to him. "I knew you had it in you!"
Asahi managed a small, tentative smile in return. His heart was still racing, and the memories of his past weren't completely gone, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could move forward.
Miyuki approached, pulling off his mask with a satisfied smirk. "Told you. You're not that kid anymore."
Asahi nodded, his gaze softening. "Thanks. I… I needed that."
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After the game, the team gathered in the locker room, the mood light and filled with energy. Eijun, of course, was the loudest, boasting about their win and how his pitching set the tone. But for all his antics, everyone knew the real victory of the day belonged to Asahi.
As the locker room started to empty, Asahi found himself alone for a moment, sitting on the bench, still in his uniform. His hands rested on his knees, and his mind drifted back to the mound. He had done it he had pitched again. But the fear, the guilt… they were still there, lurking in the back of his mind.
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. It was Coach Kataoka.
"You did well today," the coach said, his deep voice steady as always. "But I can see you're still not fully convinced."
Asahi looked down, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his uniform. "I just… I'm not sure if I'm ready to pitch again. Not in a real game."
Kataoka crossed his arms, standing tall in front of him. "That's understandable. But you've already taken the first step. The rest will come with time."
Asahi nodded, though uncertainty still gnawed at him.
"You're a part of this team now," Kataoka continued. "And you're not alone. We'll work through this together. But remember—baseball isn't just about winning or losing. It's about facing yourself, learning from your mistakes, and pushing forward."
Asahi looked up, meeting the coach's steady gaze. For the first time, he felt like maybe just maybe he could let go of the past.
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In this chapter, Asahi takes his first real steps toward confronting the trauma that has held him back for so long. The pressure of the game forces him to face his fears head-on, and with the support of his teammates, particularly Eijun and Miyuki, he begins to rediscover his potential as a pitcher. However, the journey is far from over, as the shadows of his past continue to linger. This chapter sets up a deeper exploration of Asahi's internal struggles, while also solidifying his bond with the team.
-Okay not gonna lie, I'm gonna hit the bed now. I'll continue uploading chapters when i woke up!