The last thing I remembered was the screech of tires on wet asphalt and the blinding glare of high beams. Then, silence. A cold, heavy darkness that felt like falling into a deep well. But the silence didn't last. It was pierced by a thin, rhythmic wailing that grated against my ears. Who is crying? I wondered, my thoughts sluggish as if moving through syrup. Where am I? Is this a hospital? But I'm sure I... I'm sure I died.
I forced my eyelids open. Everything was a mess of blurry things and really bright light that hurt my eyes. The air smelled like a hospital and flowers. As things started to look clearer I saw that someone was holding me. A young woman was looking at me with a smile on her face. She looked really tired yet she was still smiling. She seemed happy to see me and it felt like her happiness was wrapping around me.
This woman, who is she? And why is she holding me like…
I tried to lift my arm to push away the confusion. My arm felt really heavy and I could not control it. When my arm finally came into my sight I froze. A small hand, all wrinkled and thin skin and tiny nails was waving in the air. The hand was my arm.
Wait - a baby?!
I stared at those hands in terror. This wasn't a recovery room. This wasn't a dream. I looked back at the woman, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs - a heart that felt far too small for the soul it had.
"Welcome to the world, Eijun," she whispered.
Eijun? The name sent a jolt through my foggy consciousness. It was familiar, like a song I had heard a thousand times but couldn't quite place.
"Look at him, Kaa-chan" a deep, vibrating voice boomed from somewhere above me. "He has your eyes. But he's got the Sawamura lungs, that's for sure!"
I tried to protest, to ask about the screeching tires and the cold asphalt of the accident, but all that emerged from my throat was a thin, rhythmic wail. A pair of enormous, calloused hands passed me over to a woman whose face slowly came into focus. She looked down at me with a tired, radiant heat that made my new, tiny heart stammer. The first few days were a haze of biological demands and overwhelming sensory input. I was poked, prodded, and constantly fussed over. My "parents" - two people who looked far too young to be responsible for a displaced soul - spent hours cooing over me. They made ridiculous faces, spoke in high-pitched nonsense, and celebrated every time I managed to grip a finger.
A few days later, the sterile white of the hospital was replaced by the earthy warmth of a traditional house in Nagano. I do not really remember much about moving to the house. I just know that I was passed from one family member to another. They all wanted to hold me and take care of me. My new father would lean over my crib, making ridiculous faces and wagging his fingers, while an older man - my grandfather, Eitoku - spoke to me about "fighting spirit" as if I could understand him. In a way, I did. But I couldn't tell them that.
Six Months Later
Time is a strange thing when you lack the motor skills to check a clock. Half a year had gone away in a cycle of naps, milk, and the slow, my neck muscles were also getting stronger. I am currently sitting in a playpen made of wood and a stuffed bear is holding me up, staring at my reflection in a plastic baby mirror. I remembered the accident - the blinding headlights and the sudden, jarring stop. But beyond that? My life before the accident is like a mirror that is broken into pieces. I knew I was a teenage girl trying to get into my dream school. But there was something I did not know - my name. I couldn't remember my name. I couldn't recall the face of the person I used to be or the sound of my own voice. It was like the universe had demanded a fair trade - a new life in exchange for the identity of the old one.
But I knew this name.
"Eijun! Are you hungry again?" My mother walked into the room, beaming. Behind her trailed a boisterous man with a wide grin, my father, and a stern-looking older man who could only be my grandfather, Eitoku.
Sawamura Eijun. The protagonist of Ace of the Diamond. The southpaw with the erratic moving fastball and the unbreakable spirit. My favorite manga. I looked down at my left hand, opening and closing the tiny, chubby fist. I wasn't just reborn, I had been dropped into a world of leather, dirt, and the high-pressure heat of the pitcher's mound. I was currently a ten-pound infant in rural Nagano, but I was also the future Ace of Seido High. My father knelt by the playpen, holding up a small, soft plush ball. "Look, Eijun! Go get it!"
What am I, a dog or something? But I still reached out. My left hand moved first, swiping through the air with a clumsy yet determined speed. "He's a lefty for sure!" Grandpa Eitoku barked, laughing as he slapped his knee. "A southpaw! We'll have to get him a glove before he can even walk!"
Then I thought to myself. When did Eijun start playing baseball? Wasn't he in middle school then? Why would they try to make me play it now? Did the story change because of me? But I still haven't done anything yet. How could it change then? Just thinking about it gave me a headache.
I decided to stop thinking about it for now and just laid back down, completely forgetting about my father and grandfather still watching. My baby body and mind won over and I fell asleep almost instantly.