Bound In Diamond

The sun glared over the golden hills of suburban Los Angeles, where the Sawamura household buzzed with life in its own unique way. The air carried the sweet scent of blooming gardenias from Ayumi’s small flower bed, and the occasional sound of a bouncing ball echoed down the street. It was an ordinary Saturday for most, but not for young Sawamura Eijun. Five-year-old Eijun sat on the curb outside their home, a juice box in one hand and a messy smudge of strawberry jam on his cheek. He laughed so loudly that birds startled from a nearby tree. Around him were his three loyal companions — Wakana, the tough-talking girl who didn’t take crap from anyone; Carter, the cheeky boy who loved to stir up trouble; and Justin, quiet, watchful, always analyzing. “Eijun, you got jam on your nose,” Carter pointed out, grinning. “I do not!” Eijun said and wiped at the wrong side of his face. “You totally do,” Wakana said, rolling her eyes and snatching a tissue from her pocket to clean his face herself. “Honestly, you’re helpless.” “Thanks, Waka!” Eijun chirped, not remotely embarrassed. The group had been playing tag, taking turns being ‘it’ and loudly declaring victory or defeat in the exaggerated way only five- and six-year-olds could. But somewhere in the play, Justin had paused, eyes following the distant figure of a boy walking with a bag slung over his shoulder and a cap tucked low over his face. “Hey... where’s your brother going again?” Justin asked, frowning. Eijun blinked. “Niichan? Uh... I dunno. Baseball?” “Baseball?” Carter perked up, intrigued. “Like... the one with bats and gloves and stuff?” “I think so?” Eijun shrugged. “He always leaves with that big bag. And mom says to be quiet when he gets home because he’s ‘tired from practice.’” “I wanna see what he’s doing,” Wakana said. “Let’s ask your mom.” “Okay!” Eijun declared, already marching toward the house. Inside, Ayumi was folding laundry in the living room, humming a soft tune under her breath. She glanced up when the four kids burst in, Eijun leading the charge as usual. “Mama!” Eijun said, eyes wide. “Where’s Niichan going?” Ayumi blinked in surprise. “He’s at baseball practice, sweetie. He has a big tournament coming up.” “What’s baseball?” Eijun asked, tilting his head. Carter, Wakana, and Justin looked equally confused. Ayumi smiled and gestured for them to sit on the rug. “Baseball is a sport where two teams take turns hitting a ball and running bases to score points. Your brother Chris is a catcher.” “A what?” Wakana frowned. “It means he crouches behind the batter and catches the ball the pitcher throws. He also helps guide the pitcher by giving them signs.” “Sounds boring,” Carter said — but he was clearly interested. Ayumi laughed softly. “It’s not boring at all. It’s a very important job. Chris works very hard.” Eijun blinked slowly. “Niichan... works hard?” “Yes,” she said, brushing a hand through Eijun’s wild hair. “He practices almost every day with the Westside Hawks. He loves baseball.” “Then... I wanna see too,” Eijun declared with his usual fire. Ayumi smiled. “You’ll have to ask him, but don’t get in the way. He’s got important games coming up.” Eijun nodded, though something inside him itched — curiosity? Maybe. Maybe it was just that Chris-niisan, his quiet, reliable older brother, always disappeared in the afternoons like he belonged to a world Eijun didn’t understand. That night, Eijun sat at the dinner table, swinging his legs under his chair. Chris sat across from him, quietly eating his rice, his posture straight, movements methodical. “Niichan,” Eijun said, mid-chew. “What’s baseball like?” Chris blinked, chopsticks paused midair. “...It’s fun.” “That’s all?” Eijun pouted. Chris gave a small smile. “You wouldn’t get it until you see it.” “I wanna see it!” Kenji, their father, chuckled from the head of the table. “Maybe when your brother has time, he can take you along.” Chris gave a small nod, but there was hesitation in his eyes. Later that night, Eijun whispered to his friends over their makeshift walkie-talkies — two cans and a string tied between their bedroom windows. “We’re gonna follow him tomorrow,” he said. “We’re gonna see what this baseball thing is all about!” ---