Rebirth of Toujou Hideaki
The faint creak of a rocking chair echoed through the quiet room as Toujou Hideaki gazed out of the window. The afternoon sunlight spilled in, painting warm hues over old trophies, dusty photographs, and memorabilia that adorned the shelves. His life had been long, filled with joy and cherished moments, yet deep within, a regret lingered, refusing to fade.
“Grandpa! Grandpa, look!”
The excited voice of his grandson, Haru, broke the silence. The boy bounded over, clutching an old photograph in his tiny hands and thrusting it forward eagerly.
“Grandpa, is this really you? You look so cool!”
Toujou took the photograph, his fingers trembling slightly. It was a group photo of Seidou High School’s baseball team after they had won the Koshien championship. There he stood, younger, smiling brightly alongside Miyuki, Sawamura, Furuya, and the rest of the team.
“Were you a great player, Grandpa?” Haru’s eyes sparkled with admiration.
Toujou chuckled softly, though his heart ached. “I was a good player. But not in the way I wanted to be.”
“Haru,” came a gentle voice. His daughter approached, smiling apologetically. “Don’t bother Grandpa too much.”
“Okay,” Haru said reluctantly. Before leaving, he turned back. “Next time, Grandpa, you have to tell me your story about this picture!”
Toujou watched him leave, his hands clutching the photograph. The room grew still once more. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes misted over as memories surged forward.
---
In his youth, Toujou poured his heart into baseball. Yet, while others rose as star pitchers or batters, he quietly excelled as a fielder. Dependable, hardworking, but never the star. His heart had longed to stand on the mound, to control the game, but he never had the courage to pursue it.
If only…
The words haunted him. If only he’d been brave enough. If only he’d trusted his ability to pitch. If only he had stood out, like Sawamura with his flexibility or Furuya with his power.
---
The light in the room shifted, its warm hues dissolving into a dazzling brilliance. It was almost blinding, yet strangely soothing, as if inviting him toward something beyond the present. Toujou felt his breath hitch, his heartbeat slowing as a sense of calm washed over him. He closed his eyes, clutching the picture tightly.
When he opened them again, the air smelled different. Fresh. Vibrant. He wasn’t in his quiet home anymore, but in an old familiar room during his childhood days.
Toujou glanced down at his hands—young and unblemished. He turned to see a familiar reflection staring back at him in the polished metal of a bench.
He was back.
He was young again.
And this time, he would seize every chance, leaving no room for regret.
lazybummerasfk2023 · Book&Literature
