Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

The warm afternoon sun cast long shadows across the park as Toujou Hideaki completed another day of training.

The chalk-drawn strike zone on the wall had faded from repeated use, and the dirt around him bore the marks of countless hours of practice.

Despite the progress he had made, something felt incomplete.

His throws have improved its accurate, his control over spin are a bit sharper, and his stamina improved a little, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind—something was missing.

Toujou picked up the softball, turning it over in his hands as he gazed at the strike zone. "This isn't enough," he muttered.

---

He stepped back, took a deep breath, and threw a fastball with maximum spin. The ball zipped toward the strike zone, hitting dead center with a satisfying thud.

Next, he reduced the spin and threw again. The ball floated slower, still finding its mark but lacking the impact of the previous pitch.

Toujou gritted his teeth. "It's not just about hitting the target," he said aloud. "It's about outsmarting the batter, controlling the game. But how can I do that without someone to test me?"

He realized his solo training could only take him so far.

Without a batter to face or a catcher to guide him, he couldn't fully simulate the dynamics of a real game.

---

That evening, Toujou sat on the steps outside his home, watching the sun dip below the horizon. His caramel-brown hair glinted in the fading light, and his grey eyes were filled with thought.

He pulled out his notebook, flipping through pages of training plans, pitch analyses, and professional pitcher strategies.

"I've come a long way," he murmured, tracing his finger over the notes. "But baseball isn't a solo sport. A pitcher is only as good as the team behind him."

He closed the notebook and leaned back, staring at the sky. Memories of his previous life flooded his mind—playing with teammates, the banter, the trust shared between a pitcher and catcher.

---

The next day, Toujou returned to the park with renewed determination. This time, he didn't focus solely on pitching. Instead, he watched the other kids playing nearby.

He studied their movements, their energy, and their passion for the game.

None of them seemed to take it as seriously as he did, but Toujou couldn't shake the idea that somewhere among them might be someone who could help him grow.

"I need a catcher," he said firmly, gripping the softball. "Someone who can challenge me, guide me, and bring out my best."

---

Toujou spent the next few days observing the local games, looking for players with potential. He made mental notes of those who showed promise, even if their skills were raw.

At the same time, he continued refining his pitches, determined to impress any prospective partner.

One evening, as he practiced alone, he imagined throwing to a catcher. He visualized the signals, the adjustments, and the trust that came with a strong battery.

"This is just the beginning," Toujou said to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips.

---

Toujou standing on the mound, gazing at the makeshift strike zone. The sun sets behind him, casting a golden glow over the park.

As he throws one last pitch for the day, the thought lingers in his mind:

"The right catcher is out there. I just have to find them."

To be continued...