Hassan Rehabilitation Project - 1
Munhyeok High trailed 4-7.
There were no more runs after Seok Un-gang's grand slam, but they had at least boosted the "We can do this!" atmosphere.
But crisis struck again.
"Coach, may I go in?"
Ri Donghyeok spoke with a hardened expression.
He had already warmed up.
But the game was only in the bottom of the 4th.
It was far too early for him to take the mound.
"...Let's wait for now."
"Yes, understood."
Myeong Sinu, the coach sweating profusely.
He decided to watch the situation a bit longer.
'In the end, all we can do is hope Chan-jun somehow gets out of this...'
But as if mocking Coach Myeong's hopes, a clean crack of the bat echoed through Cheolwon Stadium.
Crack!
"...!"
"Ah..."
"This might be tough."
Score: 4-11.
Munhyeok High fans sighed.
The spark of hope had barely flickered to life before it was snuffed out.
This grand slam had hurt deep in their bones.
And even after giving up those runs, there was no clear pitcher to bring in.
Coach Myeong Sinu hung his head.
'Should I have put in Donghyeok?'
Coach Myeong shook his head.
The game hadn't even reached the halfway point yet.
Considering Ri Donghyeok's velocity dropped sharply after three innings, even if they somehow escaped this inning, things would fall apart in the late game anyway.
'Is this the end? To think we'd blow it just because we picked the wrong stadium...'
Coach Myeong let out a wry chuckle.
The end of his dreamlike moment as a coach seemed to be drawing near.
Then.
A familiar panting voice came from behind.
"Huff, huff, Coach!"
"...!?"
Coach Myeong whipped around in shock.
There stood the guy whose absence had been felt the most today.
"Hassan!!"
Two days earlier.
A makeshift training field at the entrance to Cheolwon's Geumhak Mountain.
"Haa..."
Hassan let out a deep sigh.
His training progress was painfully slow.
"Can I really do this?"
His control had never been great to begin with, and now it had worsened.
But that wasn't the only problem.
"........."
Hassan reached toward the sun.
What dwelled within his body was none other than the "Alla" he revered.
The very idea of taming and controlling Him was unimaginable to Hassan.
"No, I have to try."
Hassan sat down on the spot.
He was about to attempt the method Seong Muk had taught him.
'I've seen a case like yours before. The solution isn't hard.'
'What's that...?'
'That incantation you use to call the other personality—if you can recite it all yourself, the problem will be solved.'
Following that advice, Hassan began.
He uttered the first word.
"Ishtiyāq (Longing)."
Beeeep-----
His hearing dulled, then went completely silent.
The chirping birds nearby and the sound of the flowing river vanished.
"Zang (Corrosion)!"
Whoooosh!
His vision flipped upside down.
Hassan remained in place, but the world seemed inverted, as if he were in a reversed reality.
"Azm (Resolve)!!"
The world distorted.
Like paints of various colors spreading across transparent water, the world warped into bizarre, metaphysical shapes.
Hassan could go no further.
"Huck, haaack! Huck!!"
Panting heavily, Hassan gasped for air.
The price for daring to seize control from Alla was severe.
A truly impenetrable mental barrier.
It was far too high for Hassan's willpower to overcome.
He caught his breath first, then headed to Ma Deok-su.
"...I failed."
"I see. Let's do some pitching practice then."
"Yes."
Controlling Hassan's other personality was, in a way, a spiritual issue. Ma Deok-su couldn't help with that—what he could do was correct Hassan's errant control.
Thwack-!
Thwack!!
Thwack-!!
Hassan threw to the dedicated catcher they'd hired for the day.
He threw several pitches, but the grouping was inconsistent, scattering wildly.
He decided to check his condition after sleep, but the next day, control was still poor.
"...Why?"
Hassan felt like he'd hit a massive wall despite thinking he'd been improving. As he slumped in frustration, Ma Deok-su approached with heavy steps.
"Ham."
"Yes...?"
"That's enough for today. Wash up, change into street clothes, and come out."
"........??"
Ma Deok-su called it quits after barely over ten pitches.
The game was tomorrow.
Time was of the essence, yet this was it?
Hassan couldn't believe it and asked again.
"That's it? Then today's training is...?"
"Tch! If I say stop, we stop! Does this old man have to say it twice?!"
"A-Ah, got it!!"
Hassan cowered under Ma Deok-su's gruff bark.
He hurriedly washed up, changed, and came out.
"I'm here! Coach."
"Good. Let's walk a bit."
"Ah, yes."
Hassan followed Ma Deok-su up the mountain path.
He figured there must be something to talk about, but Ma Deok-su said nothing.
"Um, Coach. Why are we walking?"
"Tsk, there's a reason."
"Ahh..."
Hassan was shut down sharply again.
As dusk fell, Ma Deok-su finally spoke.
"Tell me your life story."
"Suddenly?"
"You wanna see me get mad again?"
"No, no! I'll tell you!!"
Hassan shook his head vigorously.
With a moment to gather his thoughts, he began.
"I lived with a big family in Pakistan. We didn't have much, but we were happy."
"Hm."
Hassan's family always smiled.
But they lived in the Paktoonkwah region, considered highly dangerous even within Pakistan.
It bordered Afghanistan, a hotbed for armed groups linked to the Taliban and Al-Qaeda.
In that perilous place, Hassan deeply trusted and followed his big brother and little big brother, who always protected and cheered on his weak self.
'Hassan, you can become a great warrior someday!'
'When you grow up, you'll be braver than us!'
'Yeah, I'll do my best!'
His two brothers always ruffled Hassan's hair when heading out.
They never said where, but they were frontline fighters for an armed group.
'Alla hu Akbar!!'
Every day, they'd shout that while firing AK-47s.
Hassan learned what they did outside on a day when rain poured heavily.
'Waaah, waaaaah, waaaaaah...!!'
His mother's wails filled the house.
Hassan rushed to the main room and saw it.
His two brothers' corpses in coffins.
They'd been shredded by machine-gun fire, unrecognizable.
'...Ah, aaah.'
From childhood, Hassan had witnessed the horrific consequences of one wrong choice. From then on.
He became cautious, passive, always wearing a kind smile.
That's when he threw himself into baseball.
In elementary school, playing with grenade models handed out to "throw at enemies someday," Hassan realized he could throw faster than his peers.
'But I can't become a pro.'
In Pakistan, only a few with private baseball tutoring touched elite baseball, and the truly great went to Japan or MLB.
The world pinnacle, Korean leagues, was a pipe dream.
He nurtured dreams watching legendary videos of those players, but they were utterly unattainable.
One day, living like that.
His father became wanted, the family scattered, and only Hassan went to Korea with him to earn money.
One day throwing dynamite instead of baseballs, Hassan met his benefactor.
'Wanna come to Munhyeok High?'
Geum Seong-muk extending his hand.
Hassan still remembered that scene vividly.
"That's my life. Pretty boring, right?"
Hassan smiled awkwardly.
Ma Deok-su just clicked his tongue silently.
"Tsk..."
And said no more.
The first day ended just walking behind Ma Deok-su.
Game day.
Hassan heard someone waking him in his sleep before dawn.
"...Get up."
"Mm, mmm."
"Get up quick, Ham!"
"Uwaaak!!"
Hassan jolted awake with a yell.
The sun hadn't risen outside.
His phone clock read 4:30 a.m.
"We're climbing the mountain now. Dress warm and follow."
"M-Mountain!?"
Ma Deok-su left without waiting.
Hassan was baffled.
The game was this afternoon.
Yet here he was, dragged from bed to climb a mountain at dawn. He couldn't keep up with the situation.
"Hurry up! You gonna make this old man wait?!"
"Coming now!!"
But Hassan's personality couldn't defy Ma Deok-su's command. He threw on clothes and rushed out.