Chapter 5

Eijun's father's jaw dropped open like a trapdor.

"Eijun. I can't believe you just said that. You never heard of Takigawa Chris Yu?"

"What do you mean?"

He grabbed Eijun's neck and pushed him towards the gate.

"Well, let me tell you something. He graduated at your high school, isn't cool?"

"Okay...?" Eijun frowned.

"Okay! Today we're going to see the greatest baseball player who's ever lived."

Once inside, the pure majesty of it all unfolded before him. There must've been ten thousand people inside. Every once in a while they'd "ohh" and "ahh" over some little thing one of those ballplayers did.

Soon enough, as the game got rolling, Eijun learned what all the fuss was about.

"That there's Sanada Shunpei," his father said, "he's a pitcher."

"Wow, how could anyone hit a ball like that?" Eijun amazed.

His father smirked."You're going to find out right quick."

In the next row in front of them and a few seats over, a boy wearing baseball jersey sat with his father watching every move. Each time a different ballplayer come close, the boy'd call out, "Is that him, dad? Is that Chris?"

And each time the father scolded him. "Set still," he'd say, "and quit your yakking, or I'll have Chris come up here and give you a whack."

Eijun watched the boy hunker down and study his knees for a while. He secretly wished Chris would come up and give the old man a whack.

"Watch this hitter," said his father, "He'll try to bunt." Eijun nodded, hoping he'd soon find out what his father meant.

"Now watch," he said. "If he squares around, see where the pitch goes."

The batter shifted himself sideways, and the pitch went right at his head. The man dove to the ground in a jangled mess.

"You coward! Throw the ball over the plate!" Eijun's father roared.

"What happened? Why'd the pitcher do that?"

"Well, son, the toughest pitch to bunt is one that's up high in the strike zone and—"

"Wait a minute. What do you mean, 'bunt'?"

His father stopped and ruffled his son's hair, grinning. "Eijun? What say we just sit and watch? And I'll break the game to you easylike."

And Eijun did. All morning long, his father labored with patience telling his son much more than he'd care to remember.

Swing the bat and miss three times and you're out, but if you hit the ball, run to the bases and if your team runs to home plate more times than the other team does, then you win.

That morning, Eijun did as much crowd watching as baseball watching, because it was all a pure fascination to him. Particularly a little kid waiting there like a chunky chipmunk to see Takigawa Chris Yu. He didn't have to wait long. One more batter, then here he come.

Eijun looked down and Chris turned to the crowd, lifted his cap and stood frozen, looking more like the Statue of Liberty, smiling. Eijun may never've heard of him before, but he knew right then, he'd never forget him.

"Look," Eijun said. "Look where he's standing. He's standing on the wrong side of home plate."

His father just laughed, "No, son. He's on our side."

Chris stood ready to face the pitcher, swinging his bat from the left hand side.

"Do you mean—?"

Eijun's father nodded, "Bats left, throws left."

And in later days, Eijun suspicioned that that was the whole reason his father had brought him there that morning. To learn this one thing about Chris. The greatest ballplayer in the whole wide world is left-handed.

Sanada served up the ball and Chris swung at it. Swung so hard his whole body twisted like a pretzel.

"Give him a pitch he can hit!" Everyone shouted at once. "Throw him a strike!"

Chris second swing was even stronger than the first and the crack, it sounded like a hundred-foot oak tree had snapped in two. The ball shot up and Eijun truly believed it would never come down. From where Eijun sat, it could've gone on to circle the earth. Chris started around the bases, he didn't really run. He moved more like a slow, tippy-toe dancing bear, letting everybody take a real good look then he'd stopped to plant his shoe smack in the middle of home plate, with a smile and bright as a shooting star.

Eijun knew then, that what he wanted to do one day. To cause talk and sensation—and put a smile like that on everyone. But at the same moment, Eijun felt instant shame over his thinking. Felt just like what his grandpa had said to him.

On the ride back home, those thoughts rumbled in his brain like thunderclouds. He asked his father to tell him more about Takigawa Chris Yu.

"He's a good man," His father started, "Folks claim he's very strict-snobbish and so on, but I tell you, he's got a heart of gold. For example, every money he made today went to a good cause. This game was unscheduled until two days ago. That's when the orphanage caught fire and half the building burned down. Someone told Chris and he made sure to play a special six inning game this morning to raise money for the orphans."

"Amazing." Eijun said.

"And, Chris had been injured in a car accident and suffered injury to his right arm but he didn't give up and choose to play baseball left-handed." Eijun's father smiled.

"Left-handed...?" Eijun whispered.

Eijun rode silent most of the way back. The left hand was a curse, wasn't it? Sports was a waste of time, wasn't it? Then how could someone explain a left-handed ballplayer practically rebuilding an orphanage in one day? Eijun had a heap of thinking to do, and it wasn't going to be easy.

There Eijun was, stuck smack between two worlds. Between his family tradition and the baseball field. Between his father and his grandpa. Between the power of his left hand and the clumsy efforts of his right.

By the time Eijun and his father had returned to their place after watching baseball game, rowed the boat out and settled down to the task of fishing, it was about an hour before sundown.

His father had waited all day for that moment, Eijun figured, the way he eyed his son quietly.

"Now, Eijun," said his father. "Your senpai, Kazuya Miyuki, said something interesting to me yesterday, said the boy with the best throwing arm he ever saw was some new boy from Nagano."

Eijun dug into the can of worms, "He said that?"

"Said this boy had a hell of an arm. Could fire the ball like a Chinese rocket. Is that right?" his father smiled.

Eijun untangled a lively candidate from a wormy knot in the bottom of the can, "I reckon."

"Then why aren't you out there playing baseball after school? The Miyuki boy said he tried to get you to." Eijun's father said.

"Reckon you already know why," Eijun said and passed the tin can to the adult. He reached in with his left hand. "It's — you know how grandpa Eitoku is. He don't allow sports. Holds it a waste of time, he also said it's sinful."

"Sinful, is it?" His father grinned. "Whole lot of adultery and murdering out there on the baseball field, is there?"

"That ain't it. I don't know. Grandpa says its like you could neglect studies and ruin your future."

Now his father laughed out loud, shaking dirt from his worm. "Baseball didn't cause that!" he said, "Why, you poor innocent boy. You can hold the stupidest bunch of nonsense I ever heard."

Eijun winced at that. Not being raised to argue, he fought the urge to do so, but he had to defend his grandpa.

"It ain't nonsense," Eijun muttered.

"It ain't?" His father's face showed mock wonder, his eyebrows raised high like bird wings. "What is it, then?"

Slowly, Eijun looked off down the river. His father knew his son fix — how Eijun couldn't possibly give him an answer he'd agree with — and he bent forward to bait his hook. "You want me talk to your grandpa for you?"

Eijun glanced at the worm whipping and thrashing about, "Wouldn't do no good. Grandpa, he's set in his ways."

"Well," said his father, "so was this worm till I dug him up." He completed his task and shook the dirt from his hand.

"It's a shame, son. A real shame what your grandpa's done to you."

Eijun shrugged. "That's how it is, dad. I—"

His father shook his head to cut Eijun off. "Oh, damn! Listen, Eijun. Tell me true. Would you like to play baseball?"

Eijun took a big breath. Somehow he just didn't feel safe letting him—or anybody—know what he'd been thinking.

"No, dad," he said. "I wouldn't. Was a time, I was thinking about going down that road but, truly, I just can't see—"

Eijun's words fell off.

Fact was, with all his heart, he wanted to play. Specially after what all he'd seen today. But when he looked down the whole road, Eijun saw more stones—and boulders—than he could overtop.

His father stood fast. "Then I suppose you also hold to the fine and brilliant notion that left-handers are curse because they bring bad luck to the family and to their life?"

Eijun grinned. "Well, not exactly. Grandpa told me left-handers are born backwards. That's why they're so awkward and slow to learn. He even painted a red cross on my right hand to remind me which one to use."

What Eijun didn't mention was how his grandpa had whack a yard stick across his finger bones every time he forgot. Whacked them till they ballooned up and bled.

"Damn," Eijun's father said, spitting brown juice into the river. "That was when he also made and take that cinch off your arm."

Eijun remembered that. The leather belt cinched around him with his left arm stuck inside. Made his arm go numb but it trained him right-handed.

"It wasn't so bad." Eijun said.

That riled his father, "Eijun, it was downright criminals! That damn family tradition!" He sneered his words, loud, as if talking to the forest behind Eijun. "Don't it just burn your britches to remember all that?"

"Okay, okay," Eijun said in a low voice. "I know what you're rooting at. You want me to get all fired up and spitting vinegar over what grandpa done to me. But, see, dad, I put that all behind. Now, sure, I'd like to be free to play baseball. Nothing more in this world I'd like. But I ain't. Things ain't as free and easy as you might think." Eijun snuck a look at the busted knuckles on his left hand. "You're not the one who has to go home and live with him. You're always outside, working."

Eijun's father just quiet, listening.

"I come this far going right-handed, why should I switch back now?" Eijun added.

Eijun put on like he had thought it through, but what he'd mostly thought about was all the attention he'd drawn just throwing that ball and how Chris played that he'd seen at the stadium today.

"Dad, I just want to be normal." Eijun finally said.

His father laughed at that. "Normal? You call stumbling through life, hiding one full side of yourself, normal? If that's normal then what the hell do you call me?"

"I call you dad." Eijun said.

"Eijun, Eijun, Eijun." His father shook his head.

The pole tip swayed under the weight of the sinker as he got ready to cast. Then he shot forward with a powerful whip, sending a graceful, swooping left-handed cast that ended with a bloop.

Then Eijun, too, set to fishing. He could feel his father's gaze on him. Sure, he thought. He can fish right-handed. He'll show him. Then he proceeded to fumble with the line and hook, fumble with that rod and reel. Finally, Eijun jerked out an ugly cast and lost half his worm doing it. He felt the heat of his father's eyes, warming his neck, warming his face as Eijun sat there, cross-boned, working the line like a ten-thumbed monkey.

And Eijun wished he could disappear right down that river.

"My son, I never knew how much of a natural left-hander you were because I'm always busy working." his father said, then looked away. "You're a pure lefty. Just like me."

He continued, "You know, he tried that on me, too, long time ago. Used to swat my left hand whether I was using it or not. Said it was for all the times they didn't catch me."

"Grandpa don't mean nothing by it. Our family tradition way, is all." Eijun said.

"Yeah, well, our tradition has sure hurt a lot of good people."

Everything grew silent save the lick of the river against the boat. That was one thing Eijun liked about fishing. While you're waiting you can study on things. For example, the fellow sitting next to you.

Eijun spied down on father's hands. Wide-fingered, big-boned, ruler-whacked. Not the kind you'd expect to see delicately tapping on a typewriting machine. Next moment, Eijun settled back and focused on his line. Then he felt a fierce tug and his rod bent over. Eijun yanked hard.