The Third Journey (1)

After ordering the menu Cheon Sojin had recommended, I opened my Status Window while waiting for her to return from the restroom.

"Alright, now that my arm's fully healed, let's see just how much my stats have improved."

Putting together what the Status Window had said with the doctor's words from the hospital earlier, the condition of my elbow right now was perfect enough to call it reborn. The most ideal form possible—free even of the ordinary wear and tear most baseball players carried around.

If it was that good, I might be able to throw better stuff than back in my sophomore year of high school, when I was a national prospect and the undisputed top candidate for the first overall pick in the first round.

Carrying that swelling sense of anticipation, I peered into the Status Window.

"......Insane."

I muttered it without realizing.

From 141 km/h to 157 km/h. A full 16 km/h difference.

This wasn't simply "recovered." This was practically "reborn."

Calling it just healed is way too understated for this.

The doctor had called it an impossible miracle, but I never expected the numbers to jump this high. Especially the four-seam fastball—factoring in the effect of Blockhead Thrower, it sat at 75. On the 20-80 scale, a 75 was nearly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a perfect score, meaning one of the best four-seam fastballs of the era.

On top of that, even the cutter I'd only just started throwing was at 65. Considering it still wasn't fully settled in my hand, there was a real chance the cutter could become a pitch every bit as devastating as the four-seamer.

Movement went up too.

The most critical stat for overcoming the 50% wild-pitch penalty of Blockhead Thrower had risen by a huge margin. Even if a pitch leaked into the middle of the zone, the improved movement would raise the chance of weak contact and cover for me to a meaningful degree.

I was still savoring the upgraded numbers when something I'd completely forgotten suddenly surfaced.

That aside... when does the third journey open?

"Oh, what? Did it just read my mind?"

Of course that was impossible, yet the notification that the third journey had begun popped up at such perfect timing it felt like the system had been listening to my thoughts.

"......Huh."

Six innings, three runs or fewer. The mark commonly called a Quality Start was often used as a rough gauge of whether a starter had pitched well, but strictly speaking it was hard to call it a true gem.

In ERA terms it sat at 4.50. Statistically, when a starter went six innings and allowed three runs, the team's win probability hovered around fifty percent.

That was why a Quality Start was better understood as the baseline for whether a starter had "done his job" that day.

First was control, second was velocity... and the last one is asking me to prove overall ability?

In other words, the Status Window was asking me this right now:

"You—can you take the mound and do your part?"

Six innings, three runs or fewer, huh...

The first thing I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did was check whether this quest, like the first and second journeys, might have some loophole.

"Tsk. Not looking easy."

"A professional baseball regular season game... wonder if a video game would count?"

A few games with "Pro Baseball" in the title came to mind. For a second I wondered whether clearing a season mode in one of those might complete it, but I quickly shook the idea off.

My elbow's back and the first thing I do is look for a cheap workaround instead of thinking about actually throwing from the mound?

The fact that my mind had gone straight to cheats the moment I received the quest left me feeling hollow.

It clearly said this was a journey to make me a true pitcher.

On top of that, the conditions were written out in almost excessive detail, as if the system were saying:

"This time, don't use any tricks. Do it with your own power."

It felt like the previous loopholes had been deliberately allowed, but this time—no matter what—nothing would be permitted.

Alright. This time we go the proper way.

I steeled myself, yet one problem remained. The club had already declared they would not put me on the mound at all this season. For someone who wanted to clear the Awakening Quest as fast as possible, that was the biggest obstacle of all.

What am I supposed to do about this...

I'd already made a scene once begging them to let me pitch. I couldn't very well march back into the front office and plead again.

"Sigh..."

Just as the worry was deepening—

*Rattle.*

The door opened and Cheon Sojin, finished with her business, walked back in.

"Did you wait long?"

"Ah, no. Not long at all..."

"Hehe. Good."

She sat down and, without another word, simply stared straight into my eyes. The intensity of that gaze, combined with beauty that made looking directly at her almost difficult, naturally pushed my eyes toward the window.

After about ten seconds of that unwavering stare, she suddenly called my name.

"Doyoon."

"Y-yes."

Completely frozen, I even stammered as I whipped my head back toward her.

"Is there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠something different about me?"

"Huh?"

I lifted my gaze to look at her properly.

"Something changed?"

"Hehe. I thought you were sharp, but this is unexpected."

Only then did the difference register. In the short time she'd been in the restroom, Cheon Sojin had redone her hair into a half-up style.

Side strands fell naturally, brushing her cheeks and softly tracing the line of her face. Hair that caught a faint gleam under the lights, and beneath it a quiet smile. It was a beauty bright enough to make me forget the worries that had been weighing on me moments earlier.

"...Your hair."

I spoke carefully.

"You tied it up."

"That's right."

Cheon Sojin lightly touched a strand with her fingertips and smiled.

"I remembered how it looked when I first met you, so I tried it again. How is it?"

"...It suits you really well."

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and only afterward did I wonder if they'd been too direct, so I awkwardly shifted my eyes to the water glass.

"Hehe, thank you."

She rested her elbows on the table with a soft laugh. Her eyes sparkled with playful mischief.

"But Doyoon, shouldn't you notice a hair change right away?"

"Ah, it's not that..."

Her blunt remark made me clear my throat for no reason. I let the sentence trail off and busied myself flipping through the menu.

Cheon Sojin tilted her head slightly. Her eyes moved with fine precision, as if reading every detail of my expression.

"Hmm... something's definitely off, isn't it?"

She looked straight into my eyes as she spoke.

"Today's the day your elbow came back. Shouldn't this be an incredibly good day for you?"

"Yet it feels like your mind is somewhere else entirely."

"Uh... is that so?"

I gave an awkward laugh and scratched my head. But she wasn't wrong, so I had no real way to argue.

Before, I'd been completely stiff from overthinking and getting ahead of myself. Now I was stuck worrying about how to get a chance to pitch at all.

"Yes. From the moment we got in the taxi you were rigid, you couldn't even find the door properly when we came in, and I heard you sigh earlier too."

"Ah..."

Her gaze held more worry than simple curiosity.

"Do you have something on your mind?"

Silence settled for a moment. Inside, I kept turning it over.

Should I tell her?

The expression she'd worn the last time I complained kept floating up, making me hesitate.

"Go ahead and tell me. It's okay."

Cheon Sojin reassured me with a gentle smile. At those words I made up my mind and opened my mouth.

"...Honestly, I'm a little frustrated."

"Because you want to pitch but can't?"

I looked up in surprise.

"How did you know?"

"It's obvious."

She smiled.

"Your elbow is back. What's the first thing Doyoon would want to do? Throw a baseball, of course."