After finishing his cold dinner—with his mom watching him like a hawk—Alex quietly stood up from the table.
He picked up his sketchbook, notebook, pencil case, and the DVD cases from the living room. Holding them in his arms like precious treasure, he walked back upstairs to his room.
He placed everything carefully on his study desk.
Then, he glanced across the hallway… at his brother's room.
With a small sigh, Alex walked over and knocked.
"Ryan, you in?" he asked.
The shoji door slid open just a little. Ryan's face peeked out like a suspicious cat.
"What do you want?" he asked, half-bored, half-annoyed.
Alex smiled innocently. "I need your help moving the bookshelf from the storeroom to my room."
Ryan stared at him.
"…Huh? What!! You want me to help move that big-ass booksh—"
WHAP!!
A slipper flew through the hallway like a guided missile and smacked Ryan right on the head.
"LANGUAGE!" shouted their mom from the kitchen downstairs.
"Gyaaa!!" Ryan yelped, rubbing his head.
Their mom added sharply, "As punishment, help your brother!"
"Nooo, I don't wanna!" Ryan cried.
She didn't need to say anything else. Just one death-glare from below.
Ryan shrank like a mouse.
"…Alright, alright, I'll help," he muttered.
Alex tried not to laugh.
The two brothers headed down the hallway toward the storeroom. The wooden floor creaked under their feet.
While walking, Ryan complained loudly, "You idiot. Why do you even want that huge bookshelf?"
Alex answered calmly, "For manga."
"Manga?!" Ryan exclaimed, like Alex had just confessed to a crime.
Alex nodded.
Ryan stared at him in disbelief. "Since when do you read manga? You were all National Geographic and cricket textbooks before."
"I still read those," Alex said. "But I read manga digitally. Always have. Phone. Tablet."
Ryan squinted. "You little sneak…"
They reached the storeroom and opened the sliding door. Dust floated in the air. The room smelled like old wood and forgotten cardboard.
And there it was. Against the back wall— A big, dark brown bookshelf. Almost as tall as Ryan.
"…Now we have to drag this, huh?" Ryan groaned.
"Yep," Alex said with a straight face.
They both grabbed one side each and started dragging it out of the storeroom.
Scree—eek…
Thump… scrape… THUD…
"This is heavy," Ryan panted.
"Ha," Alex agreed, already sweating.
It took them forever. Around corners. Down the hallway. Past the stairs. At one point, Ryan almost dropped his side and Alex yelled, "Don't let it fall!"
Finally, they reached Alex's room and leaned the bookshelf against the wall in the corner.
They both dropped to the floor, exhausted.
Ryan looked around and blinked. "Your room's… weirdly clean. Like a hotel."
Alex tilted his head. "Yeah?"
"Why don't you clean my room too?" Ryan asked.
Alex replied with a smirk, "Nope. I'm a trespasser, remember?"
Ryan's mouth twitched.
"…Tch. Fine. I'm going. Good night, manga boy."
He got up and walked out, stretching his arms. "I better get free snacks for this."
Alex watched him go, then looked at the bookshelf. It was old, but sturdy. Worn at the corners. Faded in places. But now, it was his.
He wiped it down carefully with a cloth, making sure there was no dust. He polished the edges and smiled a little when it looked clean and shiny.
He ran his fingers along one shelf, imagining all the spines that would line it.
Then he went downstairs again to wash his face and brush his teeth.
The house was calm now. Lights were dim. The day was finally ending.
He came back to his room, closed the door gently, and changed into his nightwear.
He pulled the blanket over himself and lay back on his bed.
His eyes looked at the corner of the room.
The bookshelf stood proudly. Waiting.
Alex woke up early, as always.
The faint light coming through the curtains painted soft streaks across the wall. He blinked the sleep away, checked the time—6:02 AM—and sat up, yawning.
He rolled out of bed, did his usual morning routine: push-ups, squats, stretches. The quiet rhythm of movement slowly woke him up. Then he washed up, the cold splash of water on his face snapping him fully into the day.
By the time he made it downstairs, it was already 8:30.
The smell of eggs and miso soup filled the house—homey, comforting. Toast was stacked in a little plate tower. Western and Japanese, just like always.
"Morning," he said, sitting down.
"Morning!" his mom replied with a bright smile as she served him a plate.
His dad sat with a newspaper in hand, already sipping hot tea.
Ryan was out—probably off playing soccer with his friends. The house felt calm. Normal.
They talked casually over breakfast—school, the weather, what Ryan's coach said last match. It was nothing special. But it made Alex feel like he belonged. A small, warm thread tying everything together.
After finishing his meal and thanking his mom, Alex returned to his room.
He changed into a crisp blue hoodie with a stylized image of Adam Gilchrist mid-dive behind the stumps. White joggers, clean sneakers. He checked himself in the mirror and gave a small nod.
By 9:45, he was back downstairs, tying his laces near the genkan.
"I'll have lunch out," he called out.
"Come home before dark!" his mom called back over the sound of running water.
His dad lowered the paper slightly. "Don't blow all your money."
Alex smiled. "It's fine, Dad. I've been saving for this."
He stepped out into the cool morning air. The sky was clear. The breeze, light.
And right outside, leaning against a pole with a smug look, was Kenta—red lollipop in his mouth, like he was in a manga panel himself.
"You're trying too hard," Alex said, raising an eyebrow.
Kenta grinned, puffing out his chest. "You gotta respect the style."
Alex shook his head, smirking. "You're sucking on a lollipop, not leading a gang."
Kenta clicked his tongue, but he couldn't hide the grin. "Shut up, cricket boy."
They walked side by side, chatting as they went. The streets were peaceful, filled with distant chatter, the occasional bike bell, and the rustle of trees. A slice of Sunday life in motion.
Soon, they reached the store.
Glass windows stretched across the front, plastered with posters of One Piece, Bleach, Naruto, Fairy Tail, Attack on Titan, Gintama.
Alex paused outside, eyes lingering on a massive Ippo poster in the corner.
It showed Ippo mid-punch, sweat flying, eyes locked. Raw power. Real passion.
He took a quiet breath and stepped inside with Kenta.
The store was bigger than it looked from outside. Bright lights. Warm wooden shelves. A world of color and stories stacked high in every direction.
Kenta made a beeline toward the Isekai section, already mumbling excitedly to himself.
Alex wandered slower. He walked down the rows, fingers brushing the spines. Each title made him pause. Vinland Saga, with its rugged, serious tone. Vagabond, looking like a piece of art. Akira's bold red spine catching his eye.
He stopped to flip through Bleach Vol. 1. The black-and-white panels felt alive, even without color. Then he set it back, eyes scanning for something else.
Kenta came running over, waving something.
"Dude! Tensura Volume 1! It's finally in!"
Alex tilted his head at the cover. "Slime one, right?"
"Yup. You want it?"
"Sure," Alex said with a shrug.
Kenta handed it to him and zoomed off again, deep in a pile of Konosuba and Sword Art Online.
But Alex… he was still looking.
Eventually, he reached the back corner of the store. The shelves here were older, dustier. A little less polished.
And that's when he saw it—Capeta. But only the last three volumes.
Then Hajime no Ippo—volume 105 onwards.
Alex frowned. Not what he was looking for.
He wanted the beginning. The roots.
He found a nearby staff member, a younger guy in a yellow apron.
"Excuse me," Alex asked in Japanese, "Do you have earlier volumes of Hajime no Ippo and Capeta?"
The guy blinked. "Oh, uh—your Japanese is really good."
Alex gave a small, polite smile.
"I'll ask the manager," the staff said, jogging off.
After a few minutes, the manager appeared—a gray-haired man with gentle eyes and reading glasses resting low on his nose.
"You looking for the older stuff?" he asked, rubbing his chin. "We've got 'em. Nobody buys those anymore. They've been sitting in the back for years."
Alex's eyes lit up. "Can I see them?"
The manager nodded. "Sure. Tell you what—if you take the full sets, I'll give you half off. Just so they go to someone who actually wants them."
Alex's heart skipped. "How much?"
The man did some quick math.
"Ippo—full set, 56,680 yen. Half off, 28,340."
"Capeta—13,120. Half off, 6,560."
"So, total comes to 34,900 yen."
Alex didn't even hesitate. "I'll take them."
Just then, Kenta came skidding into view, arms full of isekai manga.
"Wait, what?? What're you buying?!"
Alex turned to him, calm as ever. "The complete series of Capeta and Ippo."
Kenta's jaw dropped. "WHAAAT?! Bro, you're going ALL in!"
The manager chuckled. "I'll knock it down to 34,000. Just this once."
Alex bowed slightly. "Thank you."
He added the Tensura volume to the stack, and the staff began carefully packing the books into boxes.
While they waited, the two wandered into the magazine section. Alex flipped through a glossy baseball magazine—mostly out of habit.
But one page stopped him cold.
"Genius Catcher – Takigawa Chris Yu"
Baseball Prodigy leads his middle school team to Koshien two years in a row. Now in Seidou High's first string.
Beside it—
"Monster Pinch Hitter – Zaizen Naoyuki"
Kokushikan High's first-year powerhouse. A feared bat with explosive clutch hits.
Alex stared at the photo of Chris. He wasn't smiling. But his eyes were steady. Quietly burning.
He whispered to himself—
"Takigawa Chris Yu, huh…"
To Be Continued…
Author's Note
Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm still very new to baseball and mostly know it through Diamond no Ace, so if I make any mistakes, I hope you'll bear with me. Your thoughts and feedback really mean a lot—whether it's about the characters, the story, or even just a quick comment to say you're reading. It truly keeps me motivated to write more. See you in the next chapter!
Poll:
Should we call Coach Oki as Kantoku? Yes or No?