Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

The faint creak of a rocking chair echoed through the quiet room as Toujou Hideaki gazed out of the window.

The afternoon sunlight spilled in, painting warm hues over old trophies, dusty photographs, and memorabilia that adorned the shelves.

His life had been long, filled with joy and moments he cherished, but nestled deep within him was a regret that never faded.

"Grandpa! Grandpa, look!"

The excited voice of his grandson, Haru, broke the silence. The boy bounded over, clutching an old photograph in his tiny hands. He thrust it forward eagerly.

"This guy looks like you! Were you really this cool, Grandpa?"

Toujou took the photograph, his fingers trembling slightly. It was a group photo of Seidou High School's baseball team after they had won the Koshien championship.

There he stood, younger, smiling brightly alongside Miyuki, Sawamura, Furuya, and the rest of the team.

"Were you a great player, Grandpa?" Haru's eyes sparkled with admiration.

Toujou chuckled softly, though his heart ached. "Yes, I was a good player." But not in the way I wanted to be.

"Haru," came a gentle voice. His daughter approached, smiling apologetically. "Don't bother Grandpa too much."

"Okay," Haru said reluctantly, but before leaving, he turned back. "Next time, Grandpa, you have to tell me your story about this picture!"

Toujou watched him go, clutching the photograph in his hands. The room grew still once more. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes misting over as memories surged forward.

---

In his youth, Toujou had poured everything into baseball. But while others shone as pitchers or batters, he had excelled as a fielder. A solid player, dependable and hardworking, but never the star. His heart had longed to stand on the mound, to be the one controlling the game, but he never had the courage to pursue it.

If only…

The words haunted him. If only he'd been brave enough. If only he'd trusted his ability to pitch. If only he had stood out, like Sawamura with his flexibility or Furuya with his power.

---

As time went on, Toujou's love for the game persisted, even as he walked a different path.

After high school, he studied psychology, using his natural ability to read people to build a successful career.

He married, raised a family, and quietly cheered as his old teammates climbed to the professional leagues.

Yet, in the quiet moments, when he stared at the photograph, that ache returned. He didn't regret his life, but he regretted not chasing his dream.

Now, as he held the photograph, he smiled faintly. "What would I give to go back and try again?"

The light in the room shifted, becoming brighter, almost blinding. Toujou felt his breath hitch, his heartbeat slowing as a sense of calm washed over him. He closed his eyes, clutching the picture tightly.

When he opened them again, the air smelled different. Fresh. Vibrant. He wasn't in his quiet home anymore. But in an old familiar room during his childhood days.

Toujou glanced down at his hands—young and unblemished. He turned to see a familiar reflection staring back at him in the polished metal of a bench.

He was back.

He was young again.

And this time, he wouldn't let regret guide his choices.