Chapter 36 Wait...what?

As the evening settled in, Shinjiro lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling of his room, his mind racing from the events of the day. Denji had left a while ago, but Shinjiro couldn't stop thinking about the unexpected discovery on the mound. The ability to foresee pitch trajectories had always been his strength at the plate, but now, that gift had transferred to his pitching.

He sat up, the excitement bubbling up inside him. This could change everything, he thought, practically shaking with anticipation. His mind buzzed with possibilities, already drafting a new training program. He grabbed a notebook and began scribbling down exercises—strengthening routines, pitch mechanics work.

But then, just as quickly as the excitement had come, a cold realization struck him.

He froze, staring at the page. "Wait," he thought, his heart sinking. "If i pitch with my right hand and bat with my right hand... that's not ideal."

He slumped back against the wall, the enormity of the problem weighing down on him. Most pitchers, especially those who excelled at both, pitched with their non-dominant hand to keep their dominant hand fresh for hitting. If he wanted to pitch and keep his batting sharp, he'd need to switch to pitching with his left hand.

The thought alone felt overwhelming." Switching to my left hand? That would take months... maybe even longer."

He felt the knot of frustration building in his chest, but then, almost as suddenly, his eyes widened as an idea took hold. "Wait, what if…?"

The gears in his mind turned faster. "If I can foresee the outcomes of my pitches as I throw them, that means I'll have immediate feedback. I can figure out what works and what doesn't almost instantly." His thoughts raced. "This could speed up the entire learning process. I could cut down the time it takes to master left-handed pitching!"

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to visualize it. He could already picture the feedback loop—the moment a pitch leaves his hand, he'd see its path. If it wasn't right, he could adjust. He wouldn't be groping in the dark, repeating the same mistakes over and over like most pitchers. Instead, he'd know what needed to be fixed immediately.

His mind was racing now. He could anticipate adjustments, feel how a different grip would alter the ball's movement. "I can reduce the trial-and-error process completely! This... this might actually work."

Just as he was lost in thought, a knock came at his door. He barely registered it at first, still too wrapped up in his ideas. But when the door creaked open, Hiroshi, stood in the doorway.

"Shinjiro?" Hiroshi's voice was soft, almost hesitant. He hadn't expected to see his son so deep in thought.

Shinjiro looked up, startled out of his reverie. His heart raced, his mind still spinning with possibilities.

Shinjiro stood, his heart pounding in his chest. Before he could even think, his legs moved on their own. He dropped to his knees, looking up at his father with a mix of desperation and determination.

"Father, please!" Shinjiro's voice cracked slightly as the words rushed out. "Teach me how to pitch again!"

Hiroshi blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stood in the doorway, staring at his son kneeling before him. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"Brat," Hiroshi muttered, a mixture of surprise and amusement creeping into his voice. "You should've done this years ago!"

Shinjiro's face burned with embarrassment, but he didn't back down. "I know. I know, but...."

For a moment, Hiroshi was silent, his eyes softening as he looked down at his son. Then, a wide grin spread across his face. "Heheh your old man will have you throwing like a pro in no time," His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in his voice that Shinjiro hadn't heard in a long time.

Shinjiro nodded earnestly. "But. I need to learn to pitch with my left hand. I can't do it without you."

Hiroshi rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling. "Well, about time you swallowed your pride..." He walked into the room, looking down at his son with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Hiroshi's grin widened. "...get up. We'll start right now."

Shinjiro's eyes widened in surprise. "Right now?"

Hiroshi crossed his arms, the teasing grin never leaving his face. "What, you scared? You just begged me to teach you. What did you think? That I was going to wait till tomorrow?" He turned and headed out the door, his voice echoing back into the room. "Let's go!"

Shinjiro scrambled to his feet, still half in disbelief. "Ehhh, now? But it's late!"

Hiroshi laughed from down the hallway. "Late or not, it doesn't matter! A pitcher's always ready, no matter the time!"

Shinjiro quickly followed, his heart racing with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He had no idea what he was getting into, but for the first time in years, the idea of pitching didn't fill him with dread. Instead, there was something else—hope. He was going to learn again, and this time, he wasn't going to hold anything back.

As they headed out to the backyard, the cool night air brushed against Shinjiro's face, and he felt the first glimmers of anticipation build up again. His father was waiting, already setting up a glove and a worn-out baseball.

"Alright," Hiroshi said, standing with his hands on his hips.

Shinjiro couldn't help but smile as he took his position. He picked up the ball, this time in his left hand, the unfamiliar weight of it sparking both anxiety and excitement.

"This is it..."Shinjiro thought, feeling the ball in his weaker hand. "If I can master this...."

He felt his heart pound in his chest as he looked at Hiroshi, ready to guide him once again.

But Hiroshi raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Hey, who said you'd be throwing any pitches?" Hiroshi called out.

Shinjiro blinked, dumbstruck. "Huh?"

"Drop that ball," Hiroshi chuckled. "You're not ready for that yet."

Shinjiro stood there, frozen for a moment, completely confused. "Wait... what?"

Hiroshi watched as Shinjiro stood there, dumbstruck, the ball falling from his hand. A faint sigh escaped Hiroshi, his teasing expression hiding the deeper concern beneath.

"This is good," Hiroshi thought inwardly, his eyes softening as he watched his son. "This will help shift his mind. He hasn't been himself since Mom's death…"

He sighed, the weight of it heavy on his chest. "It's been hard on all of us, but… he's still just a kid."