Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki

The morning air was crisp and cool as Toujou Hideaki stepped into the park, a familiar yet newfound sense of purpose coursing through him.

With his caramel-brown hair tied back to keep it out of his face and his grey eyes focused on the task ahead, he carried a small bag containing his notebook, chalk, and the softball his parents had given him.

Today marked the beginning of his official self-training.

There were no shortcuts, no coaches to guide him yet—just his determination and the lessons he carried from his previous life.

---

Toujou began with a warm-up jog around the park, his small legs working to build a rhythm.

His breaths came out in short puffs, but he maintained a steady pace.

The jog wasn't about speed; it was about waking up his body and preparing it for the exercises ahead.

After completing a few laps, he moved on to stretches. His routine was meticulous—shoulder rolls, arm swings, and dynamic stretches to loosen up his hips and legs.

Flexibility was crucial for a pitcher, and Toujou knew he had to start building it now.

"I've got to take it slow," he murmured, touching his toes and feeling the slight pull in his hamstrings. "This body's not used to intense training yet."

With the basics done, he set up his next exercise. He found a sturdy wall near the park's edge, drew a small square with chalk to serve as his target, and stepped back.

"Accuracy first," he reminded himself, gripping the softball.

He positioned himself, adjusted his stance, and threw the ball toward the chalk square.

The first throw missed by a few inches, the ball rebounding and rolling away.

Toujou retrieved it, adjusted his grip slightly, and tried again. The second throw hit the edge of the square.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Getting closer."

---

After an hour of practicing accuracy, Toujou sat on the grass, rolling the ball in his hands.

His mind wandered to something he had noticed during the first day of his rebirth, after pitching and the feelings of the ball in his fingertips as his throw it before—a subtle difference in the ball's movement when he adjusted his grip.

"Spin," he muttered, the word sparking a memory.

In his previous life, he had seen professional pitchers manipulate spin to create movement that baffled batters.

But could he do the same? He glanced at the softball in his hand, his fingertips tingling with the urge to experiment.

Standing up, he positioned himself once more. This time, he focused on how his fingers released the ball.

For the first few throws, he experimented with applying more pressure with his fingertips, trying to increase the spin. After several trial and errors, the ball zipped through the air, its path straighter and faster.

Next, he tried decreasing the pressure, letting the ball roll more freely off his fingers. The result was a slower pitch with a subtle drop in its trajectory.

Toujou's grey eyes lit up as he retrieved the ball, excitement building. "It's not about the speed—it's about the timing," he said aloud, realizing the potential of his discovery.

By varying the spin, he could disrupt a batter's rhythm. A faster spin could create the illusion of speed, while a slower spin might make the ball appear to float, throwing off their timing.

"This could work," he thought, gripping the ball again.

---

For the next few hours, Toujou alternated between practicing accuracy and experimenting with spin control.

His throws improves a bit, and his understanding of spin deepened.

But his body wasn't ready to keep up with his ambitions.

By the time the sun hung low in the sky, Toujou's arm felt like lead, and his legs wobbled with every step.

He sat down on the grass, wiping sweat from his brow. Despite the exhaustion, a sense of accomplishment filled him.

"This is just the start," he said, staring at the chalk square on the wall. It was smudged and faded from countless hits.

Tomorrow would bring more challenges, but Toujou wasn't daunted.

He had taken his first steps toward becoming the pitcher he always wanted to be.

And with every throw, he was building the foundation for a future that would shine brighter than his past.

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To be continued...