Practice had ended. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the dirt field. Most of the team was packing up—wiping sweat from their necks, cracking jokes, and kicking stray balls toward the dugout.
Alex stood off to the side, peeling off the chest protector and flexing his fingers. His legs ached from all the crouching, and his arms still stung from the catches he barely managed to hold on to. His mind buzzed with everything he'd done: the batting machine, the reaction test, the tag at home, the throw to first.
It had been a day.
"Fraser!"
Coach Oki's voice cut through the warm air.
Alex turned. "Yes, Kantoku?"
"Come here. I need to talk to you for a minute."
He jogged over, gear still half-on, jersey sticking to his back. He stopped in front of Coach Oki and stood straight, panting a little as he wiped his forehead.
Coach Oki folded his arms, expression serious but calm.
"That first swing off the machine?" he said, pausing with a faint smirk. "You hit an 87 mph fastball like it was a practice toss. And that line drive just now? Clean as hell."
Alex blinked. "Ah… thank you, sir."
"And your catching," Coach Oki added, voice dropping just a bit, "you tagged home on instinct and turned a perfect double play like you'd been doing it for years. Not a bad debut."
Alex scratched his cheek. "I just... acted without thinking."
Coach Oki smiled faintly, then his expression shifted.
"You've got sharp instincts, no doubt," he said. "But there's something else I wanted to bring up—your stance."
Alex looked up, curious. "My stance?"
Coach Oki nodded. "Yeah. It's different. The way you set up before the pitch—it's lower, more open. You turn your front foot early, and your bat doesn't come up like the others."
He paused.
"I'm guessing that's how you learned. From your old sport."
Alex nodded, slowly. "It's just… what feels natural."
"I figured. And honestly? It's working. But…" Coach Oki glanced toward the field where the rest of the team was winding down. "We're heading into proper games soon. Scrimmages. Prefecturals. Maybe even Koshien if we play our cards right."
Alex's eyes widened. "Koshien..."
Coach Oki looked back at him, voice firmer now.
"Once eyes are on us, people will notice. Some might say your stance isn't 'baseball enough.' Even if it's legal, even if it works, they'll talk."
Alex frowned. "So... they'll complain because I'm different?"
"Some will. That's just how it goes. So here's what I want—we don't throw away what's working. But I want you to start learning the traditional stance. Layer it in."
He took a step back and demonstrated—feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, bat held high, front shoulder slightly closed.
"Bat up. Shoulder in. Knees soft. It'll help with timing against curves and sliders. Once you've got both styles in your toolbox, no one can touch you."
Alex nodded, eyes focused.
"You've got natural timing and raw power. What we're doing now is just making it bulletproof."
He smiled, more relaxed now, and gave Alex a light tap on the shoulder.
"We'll work on it together. Bit by bit."
Alex took a deep breath, then grinned.
"Yes, Kantoku. I'll try my best."
Coach Oki nodded. "Good. That's all I need from you."
Not far off, Kenta watched them from the dugout, lollipop stick poking from the corner of his mouth. He saw the way Alex stood straighter now, more sure of himself.
He smirked.
"Looks like our cricket guy's really turning into a baseball player."
The sky had turned a soft orange. Some boys were still swinging their bats in the background, but most were done for the day.
Coach Oki leaned back against the fence, arms crossed again.
"Oi, Fraser. One more thing before you go."
Alex turned around, mitt still in hand. "Yes, Kantoku?"
"That stance of yours behind the plate—when you're catching."
Alex blinked. "Is it wrong?"
"No, no," Coach Oki said, waving his hand. "It's not wrong. Just… different."
Alex tilted his head.
"You crouch a bit high. And sometimes I saw you almost standing for a second before squatting back down. That from cricket too?"
Alex nodded slowly. "Yeah. In cricket, we stand behind the stumps most of the time. Only crouch when it's needed. We move around a lot."
Coach Oki chuckled. "Makes sense now."
He pointed to the dirt behind the plate.
"But in baseball, catchers crouch the whole time. Every pitch. That's just how it is here. If you're not low, you might miss a ball or block the view for the umpire. Plus, it's easier to frame pitches."
Alex looked down at his legs. "But it kind of hurts. My knees feel... tight."
Coach Oki nodded. "That's normal. Your body's not used to it yet. That's why we need to fix it early. If you keep crouching wrong, you'll get pain in your knees, hips, even your back. We don't want that."
Alex pressed his lips together. "So I need to change my catcher stance too?"
"Bit by bit," Coach Oki smiled. "We'll train it together. Stretching, leg strength, positioning. We'll build you up the right way. No rush."
Alex felt a bit relieved. "Thank you, Kantoku."
Coach Oki turned and called out, "Riku!"
The third-year catcher, who had been drinking water near the dugout, looked up.
"Yeah?"
"Bring me those Koshien match DVDs from the office."
Riku wiped his mouth with a towel. "On it."
Alex looked curious. "Koshien?"
Coach Oki's eyes gleamed. "The biggest high school baseball tournament in Japan. The best of the best."
A minute later, Riku came jogging back with a small case and handed it to Alex directly.
"Here," he said. "These are worth watching—especially if you want to get serious behind the plate."
Alex took the case with both hands. "What's on them?"
Riku leaned against the fence and tapped the top of the case.
"Yamato Gakuen's Hirano-san—his framing is insane. Guy's got a crouch so low it's like he's sitting in a ditch, but he never loses balance. Pure control."
Alex blinked. "Sounds crazy."
"And then there's Sugiyama-san from Teito High. He's a monster with pitch calling. Reads the game like a book. I swear he knew where the batters were going to swing before they did."
"Were they in last year's finals?" Alex asked.
"Yamato made it to the semis. Teito got knocked out earlier than expected, but Sugiyama-san still made headlines. He's on scouts' radars."
Coach Oki nodded. "Study them. Watch how they crouch, how they move, how they think. You've got instincts, Alex. But now it's time to build knowledge too."
Alex looked at the case again, now heavier with meaning. "I'll watch them all," he said firmly.
"Good," Kantoku said, patting him on the shoulder.
From a distance, Takuya was still throwing balls into his glove, one by one. Kenta sat nearby, chewing on another lollipop.
Alex washed his face in the club washroom. The cold water hit his skin like a reset button. His muscles ached—from batting, from crouching, from simply adjusting. But the soreness felt earned.
He took his time changing back into his school uniform, buttoning his shirt neatly and combing back his slightly messy hair in the mirror. His reflection stared back with tired but focused eyes.
He glanced down at the DVD case in his bag and gave a small, almost involuntary smile.
Koshien matches, huh... This is going to be interesting.
A month ago, he didn't even know what Koshien was.
Now, he wanted to understand it. To study it. To earn it.
Just as he stepped outside, someone called out from behind.
"Alex! Wait up!"
He turned.
Kenta was sprinting toward him, school bag bouncing from one shoulder, a lollipop between his lips like always.
"I'm coming too," Kenta said with a grin, slowing down beside him.
Alex chuckled. "Okay."
Even though they'd only met yesterday, it already felt like they'd known each other longer. Maybe it was Kenta's personality—or maybe Alex just wanted someone like this around.
They stepped through the school gates together.
Kenta walked with his hands behind his head, elbows out like wings, swinging loosely with each step. Alex kept his hands tucked in his pockets, his steps quieter, more measured. But somehow, they moved in sync.
The setting sun dyed the sky in warm hues. Orange light caught the tops of houses and trees, stretching shadows across the pavement. A few students pedaled past on bikes. Far ahead, a group of little kids were laughing, chasing a plastic bottle down the road like it was treasure.
"So," Kenta said, breaking the calm, "got any plans for tomorrow? It's Sunday."
Alex turned to look at him. "Funny. I was just about to ask you the same."
"Oh?" Kenta raised an eyebrow.
"I was thinking of going to a manga store," Alex said. "But I don't know where it is. Would you come with me?"
Kenta stopped in his tracks, turned dramatically, and faced him like Alex had just made the best confession in anime history.
"Manga? Of course! That's my thing!"
He fist-pumped the air, eyes wide with enthusiasm.
"What manga are you planning to get?"
Alex listed calmly, almost shyly. "Hajime no Ippo. I've read some of the digital volumes. Also Slam Dunk. One Outs. Pluto. Punpun. Blade of the Immortal."
Kenta's jaw slackened with each title. He slowly removed the lollipop from his mouth.
"Alex~," he said, tone theatrical. "You're... a seinen guy?!"
He looked genuinely stunned, like he'd just discovered Alex had a hidden second life.
"I thought you'd be into stuff like No Game No Life, SAO, Log Horizon, Knights & Magic, Medabots—you know, isekai and all."
Alex laughed, a soft, real laugh. "Naruto, One Piece, Bleach—those too. But I like serious stories. Gritty ones. Where people mess up and grow."
Kenta paused, then grinned with a little more respect.
"Okay, respect. You've got taste, my guy."
The breeze picked up, rustling tree branches overhead. Their shadows wobbled on the sidewalk like ink in water.
Alex took in the sound of their shoes on the road, the smell of dust and sunlight, the low hum of life around them. A quiet sense of peace settled in.
He'd never admit it out loud, but walking with someone like this—no pressure, no awkwardness—felt good.
"So, meet here tomorrow?" Alex asked. "Around 10:00 AM?"
Kenta gave a thumbs-up, bright and confident. "You got it. I'll be here."
They reached the corner where their roads split.
Alex slowed down, turned left toward his house. "See you tomorrow," he said, raising one hand in a casual wave.
"Don't forget to eat breakfast!" Kenta called, waving both hands like he was guiding traffic at an airport.
Alex smirked. "You too."
He pushed open the small gate to his house, then paused to glance at the sky again. The last streaks of gold were disappearing, making room for night.
Author's Note
Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm still very new to baseball and mostly know it through Diamond no Ace, so if I make any mistakes, I hope you'll bear with me. Your thoughts and feedback really mean a lot—whether it's about the characters, the story, or even just a quick comment to say you're reading. It truly keeps me motivated to write more. See you in the next chapter!
Poll:
Should we call Coach Oki as Kantoku? Yes or No?