"Come on, Kenta. Let's go play in the backyard," Alex said, hoisting the bat bag over his shoulder.
Kenta blinked. "Backyard? I thought we were playing in the front yard?"
Alex gave a small smirk as he walked past him. "Just follow me."
Still sucking on his lollipop, Kenta shrugged and trailed behind. The house was quiet as their footsteps echoed against the floorboards. Alex led them past the kitchen and stopped in front of a wooden sliding door at the back.
Click—slide.
The door creaked open, and warm afternoon light spilled into the hallway.
Kenta stepped outside and froze.
"Woah…"
The backyard stretched wide—soft green grass underfoot, a few tall trees leaning at the far corners, and in the middle, framed like a stage: tall metal practice nets with thick green mesh,
"You have nets?!" he said, voice rising. "Like—actual, real nets?!"
"They're for cricket practice," Alex said casually, walking onto the grass. "But I figured we could use them for baseball too."
Kenta walked over like he was approaching sacred ground. "Bro… this is awesome. It's like your own training facility."
Alex gently placed the bat bag down near the nets. Zip. He opened it and pulled out the white ZETT bat, handling it with a kind of care that made Kenta pause for a second.
"You still like it?" Kenta asked, leaning in a little.
Alex nodded once. "Yeah. It feels right."
He picked out a Mizuno training ball and tossed it to Kenta. "Let's test it. I need to work on my stance."
Kenta caught it with both hands, grinning. "You got it."
They both stepped into the netted area. The mesh rustled around them as the breeze moved gently through the backyard. Kenta walked to the other end of the net and turned around, lightly bouncing the ball in his palm. Alex, meanwhile, stepped toward the hitting spot.
He raised the bat slowly. Then paused.
Kenta tilted his head. "You changed your stance again?"
Alex didn't answer right away. He adjusted his feet—right one angled slightly back, front shoulder turned in—and spread his hands on the grip like a cricket batsman. The bat hovered just behind his back hip, not raised like a typical baseball player's.
"It's kind of a hybrid," Alex said, eyes focused on the ground in front of him. "I worked on it after watching those CDs—one from Teitō, and the other from Yamato Gakuen. Some of their hitters had interesting mechanics."
Kenta blinked. "It's like… cricket but with more lean?"
Alex didn't reply. His gaze sharpened, and he gave a small nod.
"Throw one."
Kenta shrugged and tossed the ball underhand, maybe 55 or 56 mph—nothing fancy.
Thwip!
Alex stepped forward and swung.
Whack!
The ball shot forward low and fast, but not with the same power they were used to. It rolled toward the back of the net, brushing against the mesh with a soft flump.
Kenta jogged forward and scooped the ball up. "It went straight. But it sounded weaker."
Alex was already frowning. "Yeah... I felt it. The swing's slower now. Power dropped too."
He stared at the bat in his hands, then looked at his feet. "My front leg's absorbing too much of the motion. The transition's not smooth."
Kenta watched him for a moment, then grinned. "Still better than most guys on the team. But yeah… it's like you're thinking too hard mid-swing."
Alex let out a quiet breath. He wasn't frustrated—yet—but he could feel the awkwardness in the mechanics. The stance felt balanced… but restrained.
Maybe I'm trying too hard to combine everything.
He tapped the end of the bat against the mat. Tap. Tap.
"Again."
Kenta tossed the ball back underhand. This time Alex reacted a little faster, stepping in just half a second earlier.
Whack!
The sound was cleaner—but still not sharp. The ball skipped across the mat and thudded into the net, low and quick.
Alex narrowed his eyes, silent.
Kenta leaned against the net's side, sucking his lollipop noisily. "You're getting the timing. Just needs polish."
"I'm not used to the step timing yet," Alex said. "I've never really had to think about a stride before. In cricket it's all about footwork and positioning, not a consistent step."
Kenta raised a brow. "So… you were just swinging off instinct all this time?"
Alex gave a small chuckle. "Kind of."
"Damn." Kenta grinned. "That's so unfair."
Alex readjusted the bat grip again, shoulders rolling as he found the stance once more. He exhaled through his nose.
Let's keep going.
Alex stepped into the net once more, gripping the bat with a firm but unsure grip. This time, he adjusted his feet carefully—shoulder-width apart. Knees slightly bent. Back straight. Elbows up. Bat raised behind his shoulder.
A pure baseball stance.
It felt clean. Textbook. Almost too clean.
He exhaled slowly, settling into the pose.
Outside the net, Kenta stood with the ball in hand. He tilted his head. "…Eh?"
Something about the way Alex stood now made the air feel heavier. He wasn't even moving, but—
"…Why am I nervous?" Kenta mumbled under his breath, fingers tightening slightly around the ball. "I'm not even a proper pitcher."
There was no explanation for the sudden tension in his chest. But the image of Alex standing like that—focused, composed, eyes locked in—it sent a small chill through his spine.
He pulled his arm back and tossed the ball underhand, around 50 mph. Nothing fast.
But in Alex's view, the pitch felt oddly fast.
He narrowed his eyes, tracking it closely. His body coiled instinctively—and then—
Swish!
The bat sliced through the air just behind the ball.
Thud. The ball hit the back net and rolled to a stop.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Kenta gave a low whistle. "Phew…"
Alex didn't move. His arms remained frozen mid-swing. His breath caught in his chest, and then slowly escaped through his lips. He dropped his arms and stared down at his feet.
That didn't feel right.
His legs were stiff, like they were planted too firmly in the ground. His upper body felt caged. The swing was clean—but late. Way too late.
He stepped back and looked at his hands, eyes narrowing.
I couldn't swing fast enough… and there was no strength in it either.
Kenta stepped a little closer, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhh… honestly? That stance looked pretty intense. You kinda looked like a home run hitter or something. I got nervous just watching."
Alex turned toward him slowly, eyes wide. "You were… nervous?"
Kenta laughed lightly, rubbing his arm. "Yeah. I don't know why, but when you took that stance, it gave off this weird pressure. Like, serious pressure. Not scary in a bad way, but…"
Alex's hands instinctively closed around the bat again.
Pressure.
He hadn't thought about that. From the outside, his form had looked serious—strong enough to make Kenta hesitate. But from the inside, it felt… wrong. Restrictive.
He stared down at the handle of the bat, his fingers tracing the grains of the wood.
'So… that's what a pitcher sees. When a strong batter stands in.'
He remembered something similar from cricket. That same energy—when a batter stood tall, calm, dangerous. He remembered bowlers fumbling their rhythm, letting nerves win.
And in those moments, the deliveries were weak. Safe. Cowardly.
And he hated that.
He didn't want pitchers to avoid him. He didn't want to win by intimidation. He wanted battles—fair, loud, beautiful battles.
A walk wasn't satisfying. Neither was a soft toss.
Alex exhaled again, deep and long, as the thought settled in his chest.
"I don't want to scare the pitcher off," he said quietly, more to himself than to Kenta. "I want them to pitch to me seriously."
Kenta, now sitting cross-legged just outside the net and sipping from his water bottle, looked up. "Huh?"
Alex didn't explain. He just gave a small shake of his head.
"Let's try a different stance," he said.
Kenta smiled, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and nodded. "Got it."
Alex stood inside the net once more.
The afternoon light had shifted, casting long shadows across the yard. A faint breeze stirred the air, brushing against his cheeks as he let out a slow breath.
This time, he didn't force anything.
He let his body relax—no tension, no stiffness. His arms loosened, his shoulders dropped. He rolled his neck once, then shook out his hands, letting the nervous energy drain from his fingertips.
Then… he moved.
His front foot slid slightly forward, angled just off-center. The back foot shifted naturally into place—heel slightly raised, ready to pivot. His knees bent—not rigidly, but with bounce. Light. Balanced.
He bent slightly forward at the waist, but not in the deep crouch of a classic batter—this was more upright, fluid. His back curved just enough to keep his spine loose. Hips open.
The bat lowered behind him—not raised high like a baseball player, not resting behind his shoulder like before. It hovered near his back thigh, angled diagonally. His hands were low and relaxed, wrists supple.
Outside the net, Kenta blinked.
There it was again.
That feeling. The pressure.
But this time, it wasn't fear.
It was awe.
His chest tightened a little. Not from anxiety—but from anticipation. From knowing something big was coming.
"Alright," he murmured. "Here comes one."
He wound up and threw—not too hard, but sharp enough to demand a clean swing.
Alex's eyes locked on.
His body didn't twitch. He didn't flinch.
He waited.
The ball zipped forward, spinning. The kind of throw that would mess up timing if he moved too early.
But Alex didn't move.
Not until the last second.
Then—whoosh.
His hips rotated first. His back foot pivoted cleanly into the ground. His arms followed, not with brute force, but with perfect rhythm. The bat cut through the air like a blade.
PING!
A crisp, clean crack rang out. The kind that echoed in your bones.
The ball rocketed upward, smashing into the top net like a bullet, then dropped straight down with a dull, heavy thud.
Kenta stared.
Jaw open.
No words.
Just—
"…Beautiful," he whispered.
Inside the net, Alex stood still, eyes wide. He looked down at the bat in his hands, then up at the ball resting on the grass. He could still feel the slight vibration from the impact lingering in his palms—sharp, but not jarring.
Natural.
Clean.
Right.
His lips curled into a small smile.
He turned toward Kenta.
"Again."
Kenta grinned, already scooping up the ball. "You got it!"
To be Continued…
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading this chapter!
If you notice any mistakes or have thoughts about the story so far, feel free to leave a comment—I'd really appreciate it.
Your comments means a lot and gives me the motivation to keep writing.
Thank you!