The morning mist had barely lifted when Ryan stepped off the bus. His sneakers crunched against the gravel lot outside the training grounds, a simple complex of wooden dormitories flanked by pine trees and a wide dirt field. The sun had only just begun its rise, golden rays cutting through the forest like blades, casting long shadows over the quiet facility.
A few boys stretched and yawned, still waking up. But Ryan was wide awake. Maybe it was nerves, perhaps adrenaline. Either way, every sense was tuned to the moment, and he was excited.
Coach Tanaka stood steadily at the edge of the field, whistle hanging from his neck with his arms crossed.
"Welcome to six weeks of sweat and pain," he said.
"If you're expecting a fun summer vacation, you're more than welcome to turn around and go home. You're here to improve every second you spend on the field."
Groans and quiet chuckles passed through the group.
Ryan stood among them, silent but ready. Aki nudged him.
"He always opens with that speech," Aki said, eyes half-lidded. "Still terrifying though."
Jun, standing nearby, added with a smirk, "Better listen, rookie. The pain's real."
Coach Tanaka split them up. first-string players took the main dorm, second-string players like Ryan, Aki, and a few others went to the smaller dorm nearby. The building was old but clean, lined with bunk beds, metal lockers, and the faint scent of tatami and mildew. Ryan snagged a bunk next to Aki and dropped his bag.
"Pick fast," Aki warned. "Last time someone got the bunk next to the toilets and had nightmares."
They were given thirty minutes to change and meet on the field. Ryan pulled on a navy blue shirt and white pants, then strapped on his mitt, which is made for catchers. It was stiff, but it would do.
Thirty minutes later, they were lined up on the field under the rising sun. Coach Watanabe, the second-string coach, paced in front of them like a drill sergeant.
"We start with a five-kilometer run. Uphill. Through the forest trail. Move like you're alive, or you'll be dragging yourself back."
The group groaned again, but Ryan's adrenaline kicked in. He ran with quiet determination. His breath synced to Nex's alerts:
[Breathing rhythm: 3 in, 2 out.]
[Watch your step—root ahead.]
By the end, his legs burned and his shirt clung to his body like a second skin. He came in just behind Jun and ahead of Aki.
"Damn," Aki panted, bent over. "You weren't kidding. You really do run like you've done this for years."
Jun, sipping water with barely a sweat, just grinned. "Watch out for this one."
The next drill was catching practice. Ryan was paired with Daisuke, a veteran third-year who pitched like he had a vendetta against the catcher's mitt.
The first few pitches nearly ripped the glove from his hand.
PAH
"You okay?" Daisuke asked, eyebrow raised.
Ryan blinked, nodded, and readjusted his stance. Nex chimed in:
[Center your weight. Soften your glove's impact.]
Ryan adjusted and learned. He squatted deeper, to absorb the ball with his whole body.
The next ball smacked into the mitt with a satisfying thwump. He absorbed the force better. Then again. And again. It hurt, but with every pitch it hurt less each time.
"You're picking it up fast," Daisuke muttered.
"Not even flinching, you sure you're new?"
Ryan chuckled. "I'm sure, senior. Im a fast learner."
Meanwhile, Aki was shouting from a nearby drill. "Oi! Ryan! You got bionic hands or what?!"
Jun added, "Wait till he sees Coach's ladder drills. Then we'll see if he's still cool."
By lunch, the team was a wreck. Legs shook, shirts clung, and heads drooped. But the camaraderie was forming, forged in sweat. The rice was sticky and plain but after the morning's hell, it was divine.
Ryan sat with Aki, Jun, and Daisuke under a canopy.
Jun plopped beside him, gulping barley tea. "You kept up. Not bad for the new guy."
Ryan wiped his forehead. "Barely."
"Barely's better than collapsing. You'll survive."
"You really never played before?" Aki asked between bites.
"Only practiced by myself for a week."
Jun narrowed his eyes. "That's scary, man. You've got crazy fast reflexes."
Ryan shrugged. "I'm just trying to get better as quickly as possible with hard work."
"You'll need to," Daisuke added.
"That's why I chose it," Ryan said, his voice calm. "I want to be where it matters most."
Aki leaned in. "So you really want to be a catcher that bad?"
Ryan nodded. "It's the most involved role. You control the rhythm. You see everything. It just feels right."
"It's also the loneliest. You screw up, the whole field feels it." Daisuke said.
The afternoon brought more drills. Glove work, footwork, stances, and framing pitches. Coach Watanabe corrected Ryan constantly. By day's end, even he gave a small nod.
By the time the sun sank behind the pines, the team dragged themselves off the field like survivors. Dirt clung to their clothes, and their limbs hung heavy. Ryan's thighs were on fire.
Still, he felt good. Accomplished.
Back at the dorm, they showered and the second-string team gathered in the dorm's common room. Ice packs and bandages decorated knees and elbows. Conversations drifted slowly.
Aki threw out a question. "Why are you guys here? Besides not being good enough for the first team, I mean."
Jun rolled a baseball in his palm. "Honestly? I like just playing the game. I don't care about being scouted, let others chase the spotlight."
Aki smirked. "That's rich coming from the guy with the prettiest swing. You just don't like being told what to do." He teased.
Jun just scoffed at Aki without saying anything back.
Daisuke muttered, "Coach thinks I let my emotions control me. Said I needed discipline."
They looked to Ryan.
He stared at the floor for a moment, then raised his head.
"I want to be great. I'm not here to pass time or just make the team. I want to be the best."
The room fell quiet. The usual sarcasm didn't follow.
Aki let out a low whistle. "Guess we better step up. Can't let the rookie show us all up."
Jun chuckled. "No kidding."
Ryan smiled faintly and leaned back, wincing as his sore muscles ached. But the ache was good. It meant he was changing.
Outside, the chirp of cicadas filled the humid night air. The fire had been lit, and now it was burning.
Outside, the cicadas sang their endless summer chorus. Somewhere between exhaustion and resolve, a fire had been lit.