Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

The morning sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room where Toujou Hideaki sat at his desk. In his hands was a brand-new softball, its pristine leather smooth under his fingertips.

His parents had given it to him after breakfast, amused by his sudden enthusiasm for baseball.

But for Toujou, this wasn't just a toy—it was the first step toward his rebirth as a pitcher. He turned the ball in his hands, gripping it firmly. The weight felt familiar yet distant, like a memory he couldn't quite grasp.

"I'm going to be a pitcher," he whispered to himself, the words resolute. "This time, I won't hold back."

As much as he burned with determination, reality hit him quickly.

His current body, while young and full of potential, was untrained and fragile.

He couldn't rush headlong into pitching without preparation. He needed a plan—a solid foundation to build his skills upon.

---

That evening, Toujou made his way to the family computer in the living room, a bulky device that buzzed softly as it powered on. The internet was a luxury he hadn't had in his youth, and now it felt like a treasure trove of untapped knowledge.

Navigating through sports websites and forums, he jotted down notes in a small notebook:

Youth pitching techniques: Focus on safe mechanics to avoid injuries.

Strength-building exercises: Age-appropriate routines to develop power and endurance.

Training schedules: Balancing practice with rest to prevent burnout.

He studied the basics, cross-referencing articles with videos of professional pitchers.

Though he had decades of baseball knowledge from his previous life, Toujou knew he couldn't rely on memory alone.

Times had changed, and so had the science behind the sport.

As he scribbled furiously, his father strolled by, a cup of tea in hand. He stopped to glance over Toujou's shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"Baseball tips, huh? You're really diving in," his father remarked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Toujou glanced up, meeting his father's gaze. "Dad, I want to do it right this time," he replied, his voice steady.

His father studied him for a moment, then placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've got the drive, Hideaki. That's what matters. Just don't forget to enjoy the game."

The words struck a chord in Toujou. His father's encouragement, coupled with his own resolve, strengthened his determination to make this second chance count.

---

The next morning, Toujou sat at the kitchen table, sketching out a rough training schedule in his notebook.

His mother, preparing breakfast, noticed his intense focus and leaned over his shoulder.

"What's that, Hideaki?" she asked, setting down a bowl of miso soup.

"It's my training plan," Toujou said, holding up the notebook with a hint of pride. "I want to be a pitcher, so I'm starting now."

His mother's expression softened, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

Toujou nodded, his grey eyes shining with determination.

She ruffled his caramel-brown hair fondly. "We're proud of you. Do your best, okay? If there's anything you need, just let us know."

---

That afternoon, Toujou headed to the park again with the softball in hand and his notebook tucked under his arm.

The open field stretched out before him, bathed in golden sunlight. He scanned the area and picked a sturdy tree as his target, using a piece of chalk to draw a rough strike zone on its bark.

He flipped open his notebook and reviewed his plan.

1. Warm-Up: A light jog around the park to get his blood flowing.

2. Stretches: Focus on his shoulders, arms, and core to prevent strain.

3. Throwing Drills: Aim for accuracy, not power.

Toujou followed the routine carefully, feeling the limitations of his young body.

His legs ached after the jog, and his arms trembled slightly as he stretched. But he pushed through, knowing that every small effort was a step toward his goal.

When it came time to pitch, Toujou gripped the softball tightly, positioning himself a few meters away from the tree. He took a deep breath, adjusted his stance, and threw.

The ball missed the strike zone completely, bouncing off the bark and rolling away.

"Last time, I manage to throw the ball. After following this stance I seem to forget that feeling in my fingertips."

Frowning, Toujou retrieved the ball and tried again. This time, it hit the edge of the zone but lacked speed and precision.

Out of ten throws, only three landed within the chalk lines. Frustration bubbled inside him, but he forced himself to stay calm.

"This is just the beginning," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.

He adjusted his grip, experimenting with finger placement.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Toujou's arms ached, and his shirt clung to his back with sweat. He collapsed onto the grass, staring up at the orange and pink sky.

"I've got a long way to go," he whispered, clutching the softball to his chest. "But I'll get there."

The faint sounds of children playing nearby and the rustling leaves above him filled the air, a reminder of the world he now had the chance to shape.

As the first stars appeared in the sky, Toujou made a promise to himself. This time, he wouldn't let fear hold him back. This time, he would step onto the mound as the pitcher he had always dreamed of becoming.