38. Tomohito Sugino: Strike Out (36/12)
February 22, 2014, a few weeks before the final exams in the previous school year
"Strike three, out!"
I glance up from the math textbook on my lap, barely able to pay attention to it. Shindou's done it again. He really is amazing. With that professional-level radio ball of his, there isn't much need for another pitcher. For me. Shindou's exactly what the school aims for in an athlete, crushing the opposition with pure performance. There isn't a team on the junior high level that can reliably hit a pitch as fast as his. But me? They used to joke that if it weren't for me, the team would never get any practice on defense. Gee, thanks guys.
With a sigh, I shut the book. I don't have any motivation to study anyway. I brought it along just to have something to do, and because I haven't been doing it at home nearly as much as I should, and my grades are suffering badly. I've been depressed. Even though I'm still technically on the active roster, I haven't played in a real game for months. Not since I was removed from the starting lineup after winter break. I've barely even been given the opportunity to practice. In our first year, I was the best pitcher on the team, bar none. Shindou and I made an awesome pair, he being left-handed while I'm right-handed. But the coach kept pressing us for faster and stronger pitches. I trained so hard, studied the styles of a bunch of great pitchers, but I just couldn't keep up with Shindou's incredible growth. If anything, I seemed to get worse. And with my batting skills not quite up to snuff, now I'm just a reserve, and even that only on paper.
I keep thinking about how to get my place back, but it's hard. I may never be given a chance to prove myself again. When you first join, it's expected that you're not perfect at first. Now that I've failed to live up to their standards, coming back is going to be a lot harder. I sometimes end up dreaming about all the other pitchers suddenly getting sick or injured, so I have to go out in the ninth inning and win the whole game for the team. But then I feel bad. These guys are still my friends. Well... I wouldn't exactly say they're the "always there for you" kind of friend. But we've had some good times, some awesome victories. Some defeats, but those were always like being put through a meat grinder. The coach may be a bit of a lazy ass, but he really gets on ours when we don't pull through.
"Hey, Sugino, get me a refill, would you?" One of my teammates asks, tossing me his water bottle. I catch it easily in one hand. At least they're nice enough to wait until I've given up trying to learn anything before giving me chores like a fresh rookie. As I move over to the water cooler, someone steps heavily into the dugout to join me.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen." Shindou. I roll my eyes with my back to him. "Once the ace of the baseball team, now reduced to solving quadratic equations in the shadows." I turn as he drops my book from his hand onto the bench. He hasn't changed one bit. Well, except for growing thirteen centimeters in our first year, and another sixteen in this one. In the beginning, he was just some little kid who talked like a character out of a manga.
"Need something, Shindou?" I ask neutrally.
"Just to know how you're planning to make a comeback." He shrugs. "It's a waste for you to just mope around down here. You should be out in the sun, with us chosen people."
I make a half-smile grimace. The way he speaks was always something of a joke, but once he started growing, and racking up a lot of zeros for the enemy team, it became the narrative of our entire club life. It gives me a disgusting nostalgic feeling. I'm not done here yet. "I was thinking I might sneak into all the pitcher's houses and hide little barbs in your beds so you couldn't get any sleep, and I'd have to be fielded. Too bad I'm not a ninja." I joke, deadpan. (Oh if only I knew)
Shindou laughs loudly. "Well, don't spend too much time on your wall climbing technique. You have a lot of other skills you need to master." He pats my math text, but I barely hear him. (Was he telling me to try a different pitching style?) "Even I will benefit from having a rival with the skills to force me to stay on my toes or else lose my place. You can't be that if you end up falling into class E, now isn't that right?"
My gut lurches. Yeah, I'm all too aware of what might be waiting in my future. Right about now, I can hardly bring myself to care about my grades, except for the fact that if I end up there I'll be kicked off the team for good. I grab my book off the bench and storm away, shoving past my other teammates. I'm done for the day. I'm going to go get changed. The coach won't even notice.
I feel like I hate Shindou. He used to be weak, but he's become the most important person on the team. And look at me. I feel like an old man next to him. Why can't I keep up!? Why am I not strong enough!? Isn't effort supposed to be rewarded!? My body just won't move the way I tell it too! My hand flies out, and punches a wall in frustration. It used to be so simple. Exercise, practice, and you get better. I walked that path so easily, but I've watched it get erased from right in front of me. And look! Now I'm thinking like him! ...I'm so frustrated. I love baseball. It's my pride. What am I supposed to do if I lose that? ...I've got to study harder. I just need more time. Time to get stronger, to improve my skills. I just need to stay above the bottom fifth of the school, and then I'll have a chance next year.
All right, Tomohito. Time to buckle down, and master... algebra.