Chapter Text
It was a quiet night.
The kind of night that felt peaceful, like nothing could go wrong. The stars were out, the streetlamps glowed gently, and the man walked with his dog beside him—glove tucked under one arm, a baseball in his hand that he lazily tossed and caught as they strolled.
From elementary to college, baseball had been his life.
No parties. No distractions. Just training, drills, endless pitches, aching muscles, and cold nights on empty fields.
He wasn’t famous. Not drafted.
But he was talented, disciplined, and had just been shortlisted to try out for the national team in the Olympics.
Still, deep down, he always felt that life never played fair.
“If I had one more chance… I’d give it everything.”
That was when he saw him—a frail old man crossing the street slowly.
Then—
The blare of a horn.
A truck speeding toward him.
Headlights. Screeching tires.
“He’s not gonna make it—!”
Without thinking, he dashed forward.
He grabbed the old man and pulled hard, shoving him toward the curb.
But in that instant—
he never saw the second vehicle.
A loud crash.
Time seemed to slow. His body hit the ground hard. Pain blossomed across his side, and everything around him dulled into silence.
Blood. Cold concrete. Distant barking.
He turned his head.
The old man was alive—wounded, confused, but breathing.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Then he saw his dog—rushing toward him, barking desperately. It pawed at his hand, whined, as if trying to wake him up.
“Sorry, buddy… not this time…”
He wanted to move.
To hug his dog.
To feel something.
But he couldn’t.
His body no longer listened.
“So this is it…”
No pro debut.
No Koshien.
No Olympic mound.
No confession to the girl he’d always admired from afar.
All those sacrifices, years of grinding under the sun, pain endured for a future that would never come.
Still… he had no regrets.
He saved someone.
“Even if fate never let me win... I made one thing right.”
His eyes fluttered shut, the world fading under the moonlight.
---
The Night He Woke Up
Warm air brushed his face. A gentle breeze passed through the room.
He stirred. His fingers twitched.
And then—his eyes snapped open.
He shot upright, gasping for breath.
“Where…?”
Tatami mats. Wooden ceiling. Faint scent of dust and old pine.
He looked at his hands—smaller. Younger.
No pain. No blood. No injuries.
His heart pounded as he stumbled toward the mirror resting on a low wooden desk.
The face that stared back at him wasn’t his—but it was familiar.
A rounder jaw. Clearer skin. And that unmistakable wild brown hair that stuck out in every direction.
“This is… this can’t be real.”
He spun around. The room—the shelves, the calendar, the baseball glove.
This wasn’t just anyone’s house.
It was Sawamura Eijun’s.
The same Sawamura Eijun from Diamond no Ace , the manga he had read over and over in his old life—the one that gave him hope whenever he thought about quitting.
His knees gave out and he sank to the floor.
“I died… and now I’m him?”
He remembered Eijun's story. The failure. The wild pitches. The raw potential.
And he remembered how hard it hit him—because he was like Eijun in many ways: passionate, reckless, full of heart but always one step behind fate.
Only now… he had a chance to change that.
“The dream I chased my whole life… it’s in front of me again.”
The roar of the crowd.
The feel of the mound under his cleats.
The weight of the ball in his hand.
The chance to go to Seidou. To Koshien. To become the Ace.
This time, he wouldn’t be left behind.
This time, he would rewrite everything.
He stood slowly, stepping out onto the wooden porch, the night air cool against his skin. The stars above sparkled—just like the night he died.
Only now, he was breathing again.
Living again.
And this time, he was going to make damn sure he stood on that mound—not as a failure, but as the true Ace.
“This is my second shot. My new life.”
“I won’t waste it.”
He looked up, smiling faintly at the stars.
“Watch me, world. I’m coming back to pitch—stronger than ever.”