Toward 160 km/h (3)

“Nnngh—ah……”

Leaving my right arm stiff and unmoving ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where it had locked up overnight, I rubbed my eyes with my good left hand and slowly pushed myself upright.

The moment my eyes opened, a translucent notification window hung dead center in my field of view. This was the sixth morning in a row I’d woken up to one of these. I dismissed it without a second thought, and as soon as it vanished a new window appeared, launching today’s assignments.

“……Okay. Day six. Finish today and I’m almost halfway.”

At the start, this fourteen-day forced march had looked endless. Knowing half of it was almost behind me made everything feel lighter.

……My right arm, of course, was still heavy as lead.

Even so, that heavy right arm only had to last through today. Probably. I’d thought of a good method yesterday.

With a step noticeably lighter than the past five mornings, I got ready to head out for my morning workout.

“Whew. First and third tasks are basically freebies at this point.”

My steps on the way back from the gym were light. My body seemed to be adapting to foundation work harder than anything I’d done in-season; instead of fatigue, a clean, refreshed feeling came first.

Jingle-jingle.

I pushed open the door of the convenience store near my place, and the part-timer behind the counter flinched and looked up. It was the same girl who’d gotten my autograph yesterday.

I greeted her first, casually.

“Hi.”

“Oh—yes! Hello!”

She scrambled to return the greeting, still a little startled.

Unlike my usual routine, I skipped the bag of ice and carried a chicken breast and a carton of milk up to the register instead.

Halfway through scanning, she tilted her head.

“No ice today?”

“Ah, yeah. I’m not throwing today.”

“You need ice when you throw?”

“Not when I throw—after. For icing.”

I tapped my shoulder by way of explanation.

“You see it on broadcasts sometimes. Pitcher after the game with something wrapped around his shoulder. That.”

She went Ahh, nodding, then broke into a quick smile.

“Oh, that! An ice pack. I’ve seen it on TV.”

“Yeah, exactly. That.”

I picked up the bag once she’d ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finished ringing me up and gave a small nod.

“Thanks for your hard work.”

“Yes! Fighting today too!”

The bell over the door chimed again the moment I stepped outside.

Jingle-jingle.

The sound faded behind me as I left the store. Bag in hand, I headed home with an easy stride.

Dad must have been the only one who’d gone to the shop today, because Mom was home. After lunch—her cooking plus the chicken breast and milk from the convenience store—I leaned back into the sofa and took my time resting.

The clock read two in the afternoon. On a normal day this would have been when the stress of having to throw 157 km/h started creeping in, but today I was simply at ease.

From the kitchen, Mom glanced over at me.

“Doyoon, you’re not going out today?”

“Nah. Gonna rest a bit.”

She nodded.

“Good. Take care of your body. You could barely lift your arm yesterday. You’re supposed to rest in the off-season.”

“Got it.”

I answered with a knowing little smile.

Once she went into her room, the house fell quiet again. I sank deeper into the sofa and let time drift. Fiddling with my phone, I felt a tingle run through my right arm and gave it a light knead.

“……Still pretty tight.”

I worked my fingers slowly into the inside of the elbow and the triceps, and a dull ache and a cool relief traded places. A little more of that, and the arm felt noticeably lighter.

“Oh. Better.”

I leaned back again and drowsiness rolled in. The clock had somehow become three.

“……Might as well go sleep.”

I got up and headed for my room. The second I lay down, the mattress wrapped around my back and the tension drained out of me in a long, soft slide.

Even with unfinished tasks still hanging over me, I felt no urgency at all. Far from the guilt of putting off homework, I was more at ease than before. I buried myself deep in the bed and closed my eyes.

I don’t know how long I’d been under when an alarm started going off somewhere.

Beep… beep… beep….

Eyes half open, I groped around until I found the phone screen blinking on the nightstand.

“……Already?”

The time stood out clear: 21:00. Nine at night. Exactly when I’d set it.

It was far too long for a nap, but my body felt light for it, and my arm was much softer than before. I threw off the blanket and sat up slowly.

“Alright… time to get started.”

In the dim room I picked up the phone, scrolled through my contacts, and tapped one.

I hit call. The line connected after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Daesik. You didn’t forget about today, right?”

At an hour when most people were already asleep, today’s real plan finally started to move.

I arrived at the field of my alma mater, Cheongmyeong High School, right at ten. O Daesik was already standing off to one side with both hands shoved in his pockets. The moment I got close enough, he started grumbling.

“Hyung, do we really have to play catch this late?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’ve got my reasons. I’ll buy you protein powder to make up for it.”

He kept complaining out loud—

“……You always try to settle everything with that.”

—but by the end of the sentence his face had already softened. A practical compromise over protein powder had been reached in record time.

“You said you went to Hanwol High, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you’ve ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been here a lot.”

“Well… yes? We played practice games against each other all the time. Coming at night like this, though—that’s a first.”

O Daesik looked around the Cheongmyeong High field and nodded. Cheongmyeong and Hanwol were close enough that the two schools ran practice games often and carried a real rivalry, so the place would have felt familiar. He seemed to be turning over old memories as he took it in.

“Alright, enough. Let’s work. We’re short on time.”

I set my bag on the bench and loosened up. Time to finish the homework I’d put off.

“Hup!”

I put real force into the throw. The ball cut across Cheongmyeong High’s outfield and landed cleanly with O Daesik on the far side. And at the same instant—

Ding!

Everything done except the fourth task.

I waved him in, and O Daesik closed the distance little by little, throwing as he came. A few more exchanges and he was right in front of me; catch was finished.

“Hyung, is that everything?”

“No. One left.”

I rolled my shoulder lightly and brushed the dirt off my hand. It was still tight, but after that long nap it didn’t feel truly bad. I pulled out my phone to check the time: 23:50.

“Perfect.”

I unzipped my bag and took out the radar gun from inside. When I handed it to O Daesik he took it on reflex and stared at me blankly.

……I do feel pretty bad about Daesik. I should get him something proper when this is over.

Using a junior who had no idea what was going on like this was a little rough, but there wasn’t time to explain every detail right now.

“Hyung, why are you giving this to me…?”

“Just a second. I’m gonna throw a few. Measure the velocity for me.”

O Daesik looked down at the radar gun and blinked a few times. I led him over and set up a net about two meters off the mound. He still looked puzzled, but he walked slowly around behind me with the gun in hand.

“You’re throwing from here?”

“Yeah.”

His voice came from behind me.

“Hyung, ready when you are. Go ahead.”

“Okay.”

I drew a short breath and fired the first pitch into the net at nearly full effort.

Whap!

The soft chirp of the radar gun sounded behind me.

“One fifty-five.”

The running and long toss had warmed me up thoroughly; even the first pitch came out at a satisfying number. I picked up the ball that had bounced free and set myself again.

Second pitch.

Whap!

“One fifty-six.”

I kept throwing.

Third, fourth. One fifty-five, one fifty-six.

And when I took the fifth ball in hand, something felt right. I drove hard off my left foot and whipped my arm through. The ball left my fingers and punched into the net.

Whap!

“One fifty-seven!”

Ding!

11:56.

With four minutes left in the day, I finished the last task.