Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

The first thing Toujou Hideaki noticed was the warmth of the sunlight on his face.

It was softer, gentler than he remembered, and the faint sound of birds chirping outside the window felt oddly nostalgic. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness.

The room was unfamiliar at first—small and cluttered with toys, books, and posters of baseball players.

He sat up, his gaze falling on his hands. They were smaller, smoother, free of the scars and calluses he had earned over decades of hard work.

"What the...?" His voice was lighter, higher-pitched. A flash of panic surged through him as he stumbled out of bed and rushed to the mirror by the closet.

The reflection staring back at him wasn't the face of the man he remembered.

It was a boy, no older than ten, with dark, unruly hair and wide, curious eyes. His heart raced as he took a step back.

"This is… me," he whispered. "From when I was a kid."

---

Still reeling, Toujou wandered into the kitchen, where the comforting aroma of miso soup and grilled fish greeted him. At the table sat his father, reading the morning paper, and his mother, bustling about with breakfast preparations.

"Good morning, Hideaki," his mother said warmly, turning to him with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Toujou froze, staring at her youthful face. He hadn't seen her like this in decades.

"Hideaki?" she prompted, tilting her head.

"Uh… yeah," he stammered, forcing a smile.

His father chuckled, lowering the paper. "What's with that look? Did you dream about striking out the big leagues or something?"

Toujou shook his head, his mind spinning. The scene felt so vivid, so real, yet impossibly surreal.

During breakfast, his parents mentioned an upcoming neighborhood baseball game, a casual event that the local kids participated in every summer. The words sparked something in him, a faint ember that began to grow.

---

After breakfast, Toujou retreated to the quiet of his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he tried to piece everything together.

"How is this possible?" he murmured, rubbing his temples. Memories of his life as an adult flooded back—his career, his family, his regrets.

The image of his grandson, Haru, holding up the Seidou High photo surfaced in his mind. "Grandpa, were you a great player?"

"I was a good player, but not the one I wanted to be," he had told Haru, his voice heavy with regret.

His hands clenched into fists. That regret had haunted him for years. He had been a reliable fielder, a dependable teammate, but he had never taken the chance to step onto the mound as a pitcher. Fear of failure had held him back.

But now…

Toujou glanced at his young hands, his youthful reflection in the mirror. This was a second chance—a chance to rewrite his story.

"I won't waste it," he vowed. "This time, I'll be the one standing at the center of the diamond."

---

Later that afternoon, Toujou grabbed an old glove and a baseball from the garage and headed to the park.

The familiar scent of freshly cut grass and the sound of children playing filled the air.

Standing in front of a brick wall, he gripped the baseball tightly and took a deep breath. "Let's see what this body can do."

His first throw was awkward, the ball barely reaching the wall. He frowned, rolling his shoulder.

His body felt weak and uncoordinated, a far cry from the strength he had built in his previous life.

But as he continued, his movements grew more fluid. Muscle memory kicked in, and he began experimenting with grips, adjusting the pressure of his fingertips.

To his surprise, he noticed something unusual. When he reduced the spin on the ball, it seemed to slow down midair, disrupting its trajectory.

Conversely, when he increased the spin, the ball appeared to zip faster than expected.

A grin spread across his face. "This… could be something special."

---

As the sun began to set, Toujou leaned against the wall, catching his breath. His mind drifted to his previous life—watching Sawamura and Furuya dominate on the mound, while he remained in the outfield, cheering them on.

He remembered the longing, the frustration of never taking the chance to prove himself as a pitcher.

And then there was Haru's voice: "You were really cool, Grandpa!"

The memory brought tears to his eyes, but this time, they weren't tears of regret.

---

As darkness fell, Toujou stood at the edge of the park, staring at the distant lights of the neighborhood.

"I have the knowledge," he said softly. "Now I just need the strength."

His gaze hardened with determination. "I'll train this body. I'll build myself into the pitcher I always wanted to be. No excuses. No regrets."