I Sharpened My Blade

"What are you doing?"

"Writing a post."

"…What kind of post?"

I slipped up behind Ho-min as he hammered away at the keyboard and peeked over his shoulder.

"…D-did you write this?"

"Yeah. Why? Gotta do something. I'm so pissed I can't take it."

"R-right. Go for it, then."

"You're not even mad?"

Ho-min was genuinely furious. He had been since the second the final roster dropped. I'd nearly jumped out of my skin watching him hurl his phone across the room after reading the article.

"Mad? Sure. Or I was. But now…"

"You're just fine with it?"

"No. Honestly, we both figured this might happen, right? So when it actually did, I just thought, yeah, of course, and…"

"…So what now? If the military service thing is still hanging over you, it's going to mess with everything you've been planning."

"I don't know… maybe I should naturalize?"

"Are you serious?"

"Why not? Tch."

"…Fine. Screw it. Naturalize! This whole thing is garbage. You said you wanted to go to the Olympics that badly and they still pull this crap — they're all the same. The KBO's in bed with that crazy old man too!"

"Haa… I don't know. It'll work out somehow."

Honestly, the naturalization talk had been half a joke. But if I actually made it to the big leagues next year… I wouldn't be able to come back just because of military service. Leave the majors to go play for Sangmu? You'd have to be out of your mind.

"Hey, though. Even with a final roster, one or two guys usually get swapped out, right? Injuries and stuff?"

"Even if they call, I'm not going."

"…For real?"

"Wouldn't it be hilarious if I went scampering over the second they called after all this?"

"So what are you going to do? Actually naturalize?"

"There's the Asian Games in two years. I'll aim for that. The manager might change by then, right?"

"……Yeah. Yeah, damn it! You've got pride. Running over all happy just because they finally called would look pathetic."

"Exactly."

"But can you just refuse if they call?"

"I'll say I'm hurt."

"……Th-that's actually a solid plan."

Even with the Olympic final roster blowing up into a full-blown controversy, national team manager Min Gucheol offered no response at all. You'd think he'd at least explain why he'd left me off — but a full day passed with total silence.

The next day I checked again, half hoping, but Min Gucheol was still stonewalling. The communities and the press only boiled harder for it. He seemed to figure that if he just waited it out, the noise would die down on its own.

And then another article dropped.

Kwon Jong-jin, who had always served as the national team's ace, announced he would be unable to participate in the Olympics. A real red light had just gone up over the roster. Among the pitchers already named, not a single one could fill Kwon Jong-jin's shoes.

Articles asking whether I'd be the one ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to fill Kwon Jong-jin's empty spot started flooding in almost immediately.

Too bad. I wasn't going.

I arrived at the ballpark, stretched, and threw lightly to settle my body. I was prepping for tomorrow's start when word came that Manager Park wanted to see me.

I headed to his office and found him, as always, buried in something he was reading at full speed.

"Manager, I'm here."

"Ah. Right. Sit tight a second. Almost done."

"Yes, sir."

A moment later he finished whatever he'd been working on and sat down across from me.

"I got a call. They want me to send you to the national team."

"……Now?"

"Yeah. Now."

"I don't want to go."

"……Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Don't make a snap decision just because you're pissed about being cut."

"It's not about being pissed. It's a pride thing. I don't want to get picked as somebody's replacement because they had no other choice."

"……"

"And Mandeok-hyung didn't make it either. There's nobody else who can catch my stuff the way he does."

"…Alright. I'll handle it."

"Sorry? Oh — yes. Thank you. But if it puts you in a tough spot, should I pretend to be a little hurt?"

Manager Park stared at me with a look of pure disbelief. What? A guy can be a little sore sometimes. No need to look at me like that.

"I'll be going, then."

"Go ahead."

"Ah! Would it be alright if I left a bit early today? I want to throw a real game tomorrow. Figured I'd go rest up and get my body right…"

"Do it."

"Thank you!"

I'd only asked because I'd watched our foreign pitchers do the same thing — and to my surprise, he agreed without a fuss. Michael Len and Marte both wrapped up light work the day before a start and headed home. I'd always been too self-conscious to try it myself… maybe I should have asked sooner.

"Mmm… perfect."

I opened my eyes in the morning and checked my body. Not a single sore spot. My condition felt like I could take flight.

"Babe. You're up?"

"Yeah. Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Everything aches a little, but I slept fine."

"Heh heh heh."

After work yesterday I'd gone straight to Han Song-yi's place. I'd waited in her empty apartment until she got off, and we'd spent a long, heated night together.

Song-yi had figured out by now that my performance always spiked the day after we spent the night. At first she'd treated it like a joke, but the numbers didn't lie. These days she was fully on board — said she felt like she'd become my guardian spirit. She seemed to enjoy it a little, too.

Anyway, she'd even taken a personal day to be with me. Told me to go out there and throw a real one. This whole Olympic mess had her genuinely furious. Thanks to that, the night had been a bit more intense than usual, and as a result her condition looked the opposite of mine. She was barely keeping her eyes open.

We shared a simple breakfast and headed to the ballpark. Stretching, long toss, then bullpen work.

"Your stuff is insane today."

Ko Mandeok nearly shouted it, startled. Of course it was good. That was the whole point of last night with Song-yi. Technically she was the one who'd gone overboard — leaving early and burning a day off — but still.

"If you keep this up, you might actually shove it right down their throats."

"That's the plan. Full power all the way today."

"Alright. Let's do this."

Not much was being said about him because of me, but the truth was Ko Mandeok was putting up numbers that more than justified a national team call-up. Batting in the high .200s with double-digit home runs already. He was having the best season of his career, and among starting catchers in the league only one guy was outperforming him. And he still didn't make it.

He smiled in front of me and said it didn't matter, but his insides had to be a mess.

I filled up on a banana and rested a bit. Game time arrived. After the pregame ceremony, the first batter stepped in.

"The game between the Savers and the Stars is underway. On the mound, Kang Hajin faces Hong Jong-gu."

"I spoke with some of the Savers players before the game, and they said Kang Hajin came in today with his blade sharpened."

"I-is that so?"

"Yes. There was that unfortunate business recently, wasn't there? He said he was going to answer with his performance."

"I see. Well then — let's see what he shows us. Kang Hajin finishes the sign exchange and delivers the first pitch!"

"Wha—!"

"Oh! That just registered one hundred fifty-eight kilometers!"

"Isn't that his season high?"

"It is. Kang Hajin's personal best this season — and it matches the KBO league high for the year!"

"Remarkable. He really did come in with the blade honed. Ha ha."

I turned right after the first pitch to check the gun. One fifty-eight… not bad. It had felt good off the fingertips, and the velocity had come out even better than expected. Maybe it was all the training, or the endless scent I'd been breathing in last night. The meds, too. Or maybe it was just that the weather had gotten warmer…

Whatever the reason, the more important thing was that this didn't feel like the ceiling.

"One fifty-nine! One hundred fifty-nine! He's climbing even higher — Kang Hajin!"

"Ha ha. Is ramping up velocity really this easy?"

"Kang Hajin is coming out aggressive from the jump. Hong Jong-gu is shaking his head."

"Looks thoroughly rattled. Can't blame him. He never expected this from the first pitch."

"Kang Hajin is already set for the next one. Almost no interval at all."

"Looks like another four-seamer. Hong Jong-gu probably knows it too."

"Third pitch! One sixty! One hundred sixty kilometers! Hong Jong-gu swings through a high four-seamer! Three pitches, three strikes — he's gone!"

"One fifty-eight, one fifty-nine, one sixty. What am I even looking at right now? Ha ha."

One sixty… even I was a little surprised. After that first one fifty-eight, I'd felt like I could throw harder. So I did. And this was the result. I was a bit shaken myself. Just what was my girl's skin scent? What did it do to a person…

"Woooooooo!!"

The crowd lost its mind. They'd been roaring my name nonstop since before first pitch — almost like they were trying to console me for getting cut from the national team — and now they were completely unhinged.

"Whoa… what the hell are you throwing out there?"

Jo Changjun's voice drifted in from behind me. He sounded properly stunned. I'd been surprised myself — everyone else had to be worse.

Ko Mandeok put down a fourth straight four-seam sign. Then a fifth.

"Swing! One fifty-eight four-seam fastball. The bat is way late!"

"He can't find the timing at all. Kang Hajin's four-seamer has that rising look that makes it notoriously tough to square up — and when that ball is coming in at one fifty-eight, hitters just don't have an answer."

"Will he go four-seam again? The Savers battery exchanges signs. The pitcher winds up. Sixth pitch! Swing and a miss! A big swing at a ball that drops hard. Another three-pitch strikeout!"

"That's a splitter. It came right down the middle and then fell off — the batter was completely fooled."

Honestly I'd wanted to keep firing four-seamers, but I threw whatever Ko Mandeok put down. And even I had to admit the splitter looked good.

On to the third batter.

"Four-seam! Four-seam! Four-seam fastball! Three more consecutive four-seamers and he strikes him out!"

"Ha ha… three straight batters, three-pitch strikeouts. Nine pitches total."

"Kang Hajin just put his full power ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠on display from the first inning!"

A good start. First inning in the books.