Kanemaru Shinji stood alone on the edge of the practice field, bat in hand. The morning sun barely crept over the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. His breath hung in the cool air, the early chill of the day biting at his skin. But none of that mattered.
I'm going to Seidou.
The decision, at least, was clear in his mind now. There was no turning back, no second-guessing. Seidou High School, the powerhouse team that produced legends, was his path forward. It was his goal. Kanemaru's heart pounded with both excitement and fear, knowing that the competition waiting for him would be nothing like what he'd faced so far.
But before he could even think about Seidou's tryouts, there was something else he needed to do. I have to regain control of my body. Ever since he had awoken in this new world, every movement had felt slightly off, as if his mind and body were out of sync. Even basic plays were a challenge, and it was getting frustrating.
He needed to be sharper, stronger, and faster. He needed to be better.
Taking a deep breath, Kanemaru stepped up to the plate for another round of swings. His body tensed as he prepared for the pitch, eyes focused on the incoming ball. The pitcher, a fellow teammate, wound up and released the ball toward him. Kanemaru swung.
Missed again.
The bat sliced through the air with a hollow sound, failing to make contact. The ball landed in the catcher's mitt with a dull thud. Kanemaru clenched his jaw in frustration. How many times had this happened now? Too many to count. His body simply wasn't responding the way it should.
He glanced over to where a few of his teammates sat on the sidelines, watching him with amusement. One of them grinned, not even trying to hide it.
"Nice swing, Kanemaru!" someone called out. "Trying to break the bat or something?"
The others snickered, and Kanemaru felt his face flush. It wasn't like he hadn't heard these jokes before. The season was over, and the competition had passed. For most of his teammates, these practices were just for fun now, a way to pass the time. But for him, it was different. He wasn't just messing around.
I can't stay like this.
His goal wasn't to go through the motions. It was to get better, to prove that he could stand on Seidou's field as an equal. But how could he do that if he kept making simple errors? Every swing that missed, every fumble on the field—it was a constant reminder that his body wasn't fully under his control yet.
But he couldn't let the frustration get the better of him. Not here. Not now.
The Weight of Expectations
As the day went on, Kanemaru kept pushing himself, running through drills over and over, repeating every movement until it became routine. His teammates eventually lost interest, leaving him alone on the field, but Kanemaru barely noticed.
His mind was racing with thoughts about Seidou. The players he'd seen, like Sawamura and Furuya, weren't just skilled—they were exceptional. In the world of Ace of Diamond, the competition at Seidou was fierce. Each player had their own unique strength, and each one was fighting to be noticed. How could he compete with players like that when he couldn't even get a simple swing right?
But I won't give up. He wasn't the type to quit just because things were hard. The original Kanemaru had earned his spot on Seidou's team through hard work, and now, he had to do the same. He couldn't rely on luck or talent alone.
Tojo's Perspective
From a distance, Hideaki Tojo watched quietly as Shinji continued his practice. He had stayed behind, sitting silently on the bench while most of the other players had already left the field. He had seen the frustration in Shinji's movements, the missed swings, the fumbled catches. It was strange. Shinji had always been a reliable player, and yet today he was struggling with the basics.
Did that week-long holiday affect him this much? Tojo wondered, his brow furrowing. He couldn't understand it. Shinji had been solid before the break—focused, sharp. Now, it was as if something had thrown him off completely. His timing was wrong, his movements sluggish. Tojo shook his head slightly, trying to make sense of it.
Even though it confused him, Tojo couldn't help but respect Shinji's persistence. Every time he missed, every time he fumbled, Shinji would reset and try again. Over and over, without complaint. He keeps going.
In that moment, Tojo realized that he couldn't afford to be complacent either. He had always been calm, quiet, and focused on his goals. But seeing Shinji's determination—even when things weren't going well—ignited something inside him.
If Shinji's working this hard, I can't just sit back, Tojo thought, his usual composure cracking slightly. He knew Seidou would be tough, but seeing Shinji push through made Tojo realize that he needed to work just as hard, if not harder.
Training Alone
Even after most of the others had left for the day, Kanemaru remained on the field. The soft sound of the ball hitting his glove, the quiet thunk of the bat making contact, were the only noises left in the now-deserted practice ground.
He moved through the motions of fielding ground balls, trying to focus on each movement. But his timing was off, his body still refusing to fully cooperate. The ball slipped through his fingers more than once, rolling away across the dirt. Each time it happened, he ran to pick it up and started again. And again.
I need to get used to this body. It was still strange, still unfamiliar. There were moments when he moved instinctively, his muscles responding the way they were supposed to. But those moments were fleeting. He could feel the connection starting to form, but it was too slow for his liking.
After a particularly sloppy error, Kanemaru let out a sharp breath, his frustration bubbling over. This isn't working. But he couldn't stop now. He wouldn't allow himself to quit.
His grip tightened on the ball, determination flaring inside him. He crouched low, focusing on his next move, forcing his body to cooperate. Another ball flew toward him, and this time—he caught it. His hands moved without hesitation, the ball settling neatly into his glove. It was a small victory, but in that moment, it felt like the most important one of his life.
A Glimmer of Hope
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Kanemaru stood alone on the field, his body exhausted but his mind more focused than it had been all day. The errors weren't gone, but they were becoming fewer. His body was slowly starting to feel more like his own again. The frustration, while still there, had eased slightly.
For the first time in days, he felt a small glimmer of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something.
He glanced out across the empty field, the quiet settling in around him. This is just the beginning. He had chosen Seidou, and now he had to earn his place there. That meant more hours of practice, more mistakes, and more learning. But he was ready for it.
"I'll get stronger," he muttered to himself, his voice firm. "I'll make it to Seidou."
Tojo, who had quietly left the field earlier, had noticed Kanemaru's words, even if they hadn't been directed at him. His own resolve solidified. We'll get stronger together, he thought, a small smile tugging at his lips as he walked away.