Diamond No Ace: Echoes Of The Ace

Chapter 9: Sickness and Injury

As Eijun immersed himself in his own thoughts, the outside world was thrown into chaos.

The next morning, when Eijun's mother didn't see him come down for breakfast, she went upstairs to wake him and found him flushed with a high fever.

Panicked, she called for Eijun's father, and they rushed him to the hospital.

"Doctor, when will Eijun wake up? It's been three days, and he's still unconscious. You said it was just a common fever, so why is this happening?" His mother, who had been by Eijun's bedside the entire time, couldn't hide her anxiety as she gazed at her son lying motionless on the bed.

The doctor himself seemed at a loss.

Based on the test results, Eijun's symptoms resembled a simple fever, but it was rare for someone to remain unconscious for so long.

However, he offered some reassurance.

"From today's examination, his vital signs are returning to normal. His fever broke yesterday, and all his bodily functions appear to be stable. If there are no further complications, he should regain consciousness soon."

That afternoon, Eijun finally woke up.

After conducting a thorough examination, the doctors found he had fully recovered.

Unlike most patients who needed time to recuperate, Eijun was as healthy as ever.

However, his mother insisted he stay in the hospital for a few days for observation, even bringing him study materials to keep him occupied (much to Eijun's dismay).

As Eijun flipped through the textbooks his mother had brought, something fell out.

It was a DVD — the one Rei Takashima had given him before he left Seidou.

He had buried it away, avoiding the topic entirely, but now, here it was, brought to him by his mother.

"Oh, Eijun, are you interested in watching this DVD?" The elderly man in the bed next to him noticed the disk and, assuming Eijun was too shy to ask, took it from his hands and popped it into the DVD player.

Before Eijun could protest, the man cheerfully said, "Ah, it's baseball! It's been so long since I've watched a game. I love baseball — haven't seen it since I fell ill. How nostalgic!"

Caught off guard by the old man's enthusiasm, Eijun hesitated but eventually relented.

At first, he stubbornly refused to look at the screen, claiming he wasn't interested. But before long, his eyes drifted to the TV, and he became engrossed.

The sound of bats connecting with balls, pitchers and catchers exchanging signs, infielders making dazzling double plays, and outfielders throwing precision strikes to home plate—all of it captivated him.

Most strikingly, the catcher who fearlessly dove into the backstop to secure an out left him in awe.

During his visit to Seidou, Eijun had felt the catcher's presence during their matchup.

Watching this game, he was struck anew by the catcher's intensity and commitment, and his blood boiled with excitement.

The DVD played on all afternoon. Eijun recognized the hulking slugger, the "fat senior" from their earlier encounter.

To his shock, the kind, soft-spoken senior he'd met in the infirmary—Chris-senpai—was the same catcher who had put his body on the line for every play.

"I want to play baseball with them," Eijun thought fleetingly, though he didn't consciously register the feeling.

Later that evening, when his friends visited him in the hospital, they found him watching the game with rapt attention.

There was no trace of illness in him.

But when they noticed he was watching Seidou's matches, they couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, as though their treasured friend was slipping away.

During their conversation, Eijun couldn't stop talking about Seidou.

He eagerly recounted everything he'd seen—Chris's composure, the catcher Miyuki's odd personality but solid skills, and the intimidating batting lineup.

His friends, however, felt a bittersweet ache in their hearts.

"So, Eijun, have you decided to go to Seidou?" Wakana finally asked, interrupting his excited chatter.

"What? No, I haven't decided yet…" Eijun stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Seeing his indecision, Shin finally spoke up, unable to hold back his frustration.

"Eijun, you obviously want to go. Every time you talk about Seidou, your eyes light up. Why are you hesitating?"

Eijun fell silent, unable to meet Shin's gaze.

"When you play with us, you're happy, sure, but it's not the same. You're a different person when you talk about them. We want to be with you, yes, but if staying here holds you back, we won't be happy either."

"Friends don't hold each other back. We'll always cheer for you, no matter where you are, because you're our hero, Ei-chsn." Shin's voice wavered with emotion as he looked away, his fists clenched tightly.

Eijun was stunned.

He had never considered how much his friends cared about his happiness, even if it meant letting him go.

"Ei-chan," Shin continued, "whether you stay or go, we'll always support you. You don't need to hold yourself back for us. Follow your dreams. Be the Ei-chan we know—the one who shines brighter than anyone else."

Eijun looked at his friends in front of him, unsure of what to say. Yes, he thought Seidou was amazing, but the idea of leaving his friends behind was hard to accept.

"Eijun, we know what's been bothering you," Wakana started. "You probably feel like you dragged us into baseball, and that's why you can't just abandon us. But honestly, playing baseball with you has never felt forced. We've always enjoyed it, so you don't have to worry about us."

Eijun remained silent, his expression conflicted. Finally, it was Shin who summed things up.

"No matter how close we are as friends, we can't become your best teammates, Ei-chan. But they can," Shin said firmly, placing a hand on Eijun's shoulder and turning him to face the TV.

On the screen was a fierce match filled with passion and skill.

Eijun's heart wavered as he watched, and suddenly, he dropped to his knees, bowing low in a deep dogeza. His eyes brimmed with tears, both touched and overwhelmed.

"Everyone…" he choked out.

"Besides, Ei-chan," someone teased, "you'd need a miracle to get into Seidou with your grades."

"For real, Ei-chan. It's like winning the lottery."

"Absolutely."

"Why are you all like this?!" Eijun cried, his emotions taking a complete 180 as his friends ruthlessly teased him. For the first time, he started questioning his choice of friends.

Forced to stay in the hospital for further tests, Eijun found himself bored out of his mind.

With no other options, he ended up watching the Seidou games on the DVD, accompanied by the old man in the room next door.

What he thought was just a single game turned out to be a compilation of highlights. Over two days, Eijun completely finished the DVD.

"That's truly an amazing school," the old man, Grandpa Tanaka, commented. "Those players are incredibly skilled. I bet they'll make it to Koshien this year… but…"

"But what, Grandpa Tanaka?" Eijun asked, curious.

The old man furrowed his brow. "I hope I'm wrong, but that catcher doesn't seem quite right."

"Chris-senpai?! What do you mean?" Eijun's concern spiked, a sense of foreboding creeping in.

"When I was younger, I was a catcher too," Grandpa Tanaka began, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "I was pretty good—made it to Koshien myself. I even had dreams of going pro. But I pushed myself too hard in high school, and I ended up injured."

Eijun tilted his head, confused. Grandpa Tanaka was talking about Chris-senpai—so why was he reminiscing about himself? Unless…

"Chris-senpai is injured?"

The old man nodded solemnly. "If my guess is right, it's probably his shoulder. What a shame. Eijun, you're heading to Seidou next year, right? I wonder if that catcher will still be playing by the time you join. It's unfortunate—you won't get to partner with a player like him."

Eijun barely registered the rest of Grandpa Tanaka's words. His mind was flooded with one thought, repeated over and over: Chris-senpai is injured.

"No… I don't want this," Eijun whispered.

"Eijun?" Grandpa Tanaka called out, concerned.

No, it can't end like this.

That man—he's the most dazzling player on the field.

Without another word, Eijun leapt off the bed and bolted out of the room, nearly colliding with his mother in the hallway.

"Eijun, what are you doing?" she scolded.

"Mom, I need some change. Where's the nearest payphone?"

"What? It's in the hospital lobby, around the corner. But, Eijun—"

Before she could finish, Eijun dashed away, leaving her speechless.

As she returned to his room, she set down what she'd brought and accidentally kicked something on the floor. Looking down, she realized—

"Wait… Eijun! You're not wearing shoes!"

But Eijun didn't hear her.

His mind was consumed with thoughts of Chris.

He didn't understand why he cared so much about someone he'd only met once, someone he mostly knew from watching a DVD.

But he did know one thing—he couldn't let this person's story end here.

There was still so much to accomplish.

Reaching the payphone, Eijun instinctively dialed a number.

He didn't even know how he remembered it.

He anxiously waited for the line to connect.

"Ring… Ring…"

"Hello? This is Rei Takashima speaking."

"This is Eijun Sawamura. I need to talk to you."

"Sawamura-kun? What's going on? Have you decided to come to Seidou?"

"That's not important right now."

On the other side of the phone, Rei Takashima sighed, her lips twitching in mild frustration.

If coming to Seidou wasn't the most important matter, then what could possibly be?

She glanced at Coach Kataoka sitting nearby, her mind spinning with how she would present Eijun to him as a potential recruit.

"About Chris-senpai… is he injured?" Eijun asked directly.

"What?" Rei's tone instantly turned serious. "Sawamura-kun, where did you hear that? You shouldn't spread unfounded rumors."

Eijun's loud voice had already caught Coach Kataoka's attention, making him glance sharply at Takashima.

"I watched the DVD you gave me," Eijun explained, "and an old man staying in the same hospital room as me pointed it out. He said the catcher, Chris-senpai, seems to have a shoulder injury from overworking himself. Is that true?"

"Chris is perfectly fine," Takashima replied calmly, though her grip on the phone tightened.

While her tone was steady, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that Eijun's observation might hold some truth.

Even so, she wasn't about to let Eijun—or anyone else—gain the upper hand in this conversation.

Hearing her response, Eijun felt a bit reassured, though a trace of concern still lingered.

"Eijun!" His mother's scolding voice interrupted. She had finally caught up with him, exasperated to find her son barefoot and out of bed. "Why are you running around without shoes? You're still sick and in the hospital! Take better care of yourself!"

Takashima overheard the exchange and frowned. Is he sick? she wondered, her concern growing.

"Sawamura-kun, are you not feeling well?" she asked over the phone.

"Huh? I guess I am a little sick," Eijun replied absentmindedly, slipping into his hospital slippers as his mother continued her lecture.

"A little? That's not something to take lightly!" Takashima's voice turned stern. "How can you run around barefoot while you're sick? Take care of yourself, or how will you play baseball?"

"I just got so worried about Chris-senpai that I forgot," Eijun admitted, his face flushing with embarrassment. He quickly changed the subject. "Um, can you do me a favor? Can you pass a message to Chris-senpai?"

"Of course. What is it?" Takashima's curiosity deepened.

She couldn't understand why Eijun seemed so fixated on Chris, especially since she had expected his strongest impression to come from Miyuki, given their brief pitcher-catcher interaction.

Still, Eijun's focus on Chris endeared him to her even more.

If what Eijun suspected turned out to be true, his observation might have just helped Seidou avert a potential crisis.

After hanging up, Takashima turned to Coach Kataoka, her expression serious.

"It looks like we need to have a proper talk with Chris, Coach."

"Agreed," Kataoka replied grimly.

The thought that an outsider might have been the first to notice his player's condition weighed heavily on Kataoka.

It wasn't the time to dwell on his guilt, though. Seeing Team Manager Fujiwara Takako enter with paperwork, he called out to her.

"Fujiwara, bring Chris here."

...

Chris' Perspective

Chris entered the coach's office, immediately sensing the tension in the room.

As Takashima and Kataoka fixed their gazes on his shoulder, he felt both relieved and resigned.

It's finally happening, he thought.

Takashima noticed Chris' fleeting moment of tension, followed by a subtle relaxation.

Her sharp intuition told her that Chris had been expecting this confrontation.

"Chris, how are you feeling lately?" Kataoka asked.

"The team atmosphere is great. Everyone is working hard in preparation for the upcoming games. As for the pitchers, their motivation is high, and their performance is steadily improving," Chris replied calmly.

"You know I'm not asking about the team," Kataoka said, his voice heavy.

The room fell into silence. Chris knew there was no escaping this conversation any longer.

"How bad is your shoulder?"

"I'm not sure," Chris admitted, his voice quiet. "It feels uncomfortable—almost like it's being torn apart."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Takashima demanded, her voice filled with both worry and frustration.

Chris hesitated before answering. "The team is at a critical juncture. I didn't want to cause any disruptions or bring down morale because of my personal issue."

"How long has this been going on?" Kataoka pressed.

"For about two or three months now," Chris replied, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

"Two or three months…?" Takashima's eyes widened in shock.

A loud thud echoed as Kataoka slammed his fist on the desk, the veins in his arm bulging with barely restrained anger.

"Chris, Koshien may be the dream of every player on this team, but it's not worth sacrificing your health!" Kataoka's voice was firm, laced with both disappointment and concern.

"I know, but with the summer qualifiers approaching, the team needs me. I can hold out until the finals," Chris argued.

"And after the finals? What then?" Kataoka's tone softened, though his resolve remained unshaken.

He knew Chris was both strong and selfless, but he refused to let his player jeopardize his future for the sake of a single tournament.

"Takashima, take Chris to the hospital for a thorough checkup. We'll discuss the next steps once we have the results."

As Takashima led Chris out of the room, the weight of the conversation settled over Kataoka. The empty office seemed to mirror the hollowness in his heart.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

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