I Want That Hill
579 Words
The summer tournament ended early this year.
Chris’s team lost in the semifinals. His hand was still wrapped, healing too slowly, and he had to sit the final inning on the bench — jaw clenched, eyes glued to the field like he could will the team forward just by watching.
They didn’t win.
Chris didn’t say much in the car ride home. Neither did Kenji. Eijun sat in the back, chewing the inside of his cheek, unsure how to fix the ache hanging in the silence.
That night, Chris didn’t eat dinner. Ayumi left a bowl on the counter, untouched.
And Eijun couldn’t sleep.
He slipped out of bed, padded into the living room, and found Chris there — sitting in the dark, the soft blue glow of a late-night baseball rerun flickering across his face.
“Niichan?” Eijun whispered.
Chris didn’t look at him. “Can’t sleep?”
Eijun padded over, climbing onto the couch beside him. “Are you sad ‘cause you didn’t get to play?”
Chris was quiet a long time.
Then: “Yeah.”
Eijun leaned against his side. “You’ll get better. You’ll play again. You’ll win.”
Chris didn’t answer.
On screen, a pitcher stood tall on the mound. Calm. Commanding. The crowd was a low, electric roar. One pitch. A clean strike. The stadium erupted.
Eijun watched, wide-eyed. “He’s so cool.”
Chris nodded. “That’s Sawamura from Japan. One of the best U-18s right now.”
Eijun blinked. “He has my name.”
Chris cracked a tired smile. “Guess it’s a lucky name.”
The pitcher wound up again — strong, fearless, eyes locked on his catcher. The batter didn’t stand a chance.
Eijun’s heart thudded.
He watched the mound — that lonely, brave place in the center of everything. The way the pitcher owned it. The way every eye in the stadium watched him.
“That guy,” Eijun said softly. “He’s protecting everyone, huh?”
Chris tilted his head. “How do you mean?”
“I mean… he’s like the shield,” Eijun murmured. “He stands in front of everyone and throws like it’s the only thing keeping the other team away.”
Chris looked at him — surprised, maybe a little moved. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.”
Eijun’s small fingers curled into fists. “I want to do that.”
Chris blinked. “What?”
“I want to pitch,” Eijun whispered. “I want to be on that mound. Like that guy. Like I’m the one protecting you. Even just once.”
The room went still.
Chris stared at him.
And in that moment, Eijun meant it. Not because he wanted to be cool. Not because someone told him to.
But because for once, he wanted to be the one who carried the weight — for Chris. For himself.
Chris’s voice came quiet. “It’s not easy.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’ll have to work twice as hard.”
“I will.”
Chris’s eyes softened. “Then you’d better start training.”
Eijun grinned. “You’ll help me?”
Chris nodded. “Of course I will, little brother.”
Outside, the first stars of the night blinked awake.
Inside, Eijun dreamed of the mound — not as a place for glory, but as the place where he could stand tall, and say, “I’ve got this.”
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- Writer
