i was a pitcher

“My name is Nagao Akira.” He spoke quieter than he probably should have, still processing even being here in the first place. The players around him stared politely, almost pitying. He raised his head higher. “You probably haven’t heard of it, but I went to Sakurazawa Academy.” Saying it reminded him that he was an outsider; an academic surrounded by people who breathe and bleed baseball. What an insolent dream to think he could stand beside them. What an insolent thing to show up after quitting. He shut his mouth, waiting for the next player to speak. The coach cleared her throat. Memories long-repressed flooded back to Akira like a backed up pipe. A team surrounding him, believing in him. A single, deafening crack. He shook his head. “Pitcher.” He admitted; a sympathetic villain bare before his purpose. “I was a pitcher.