Chapter 3: 'Omen of a Spring Storm', Episode 1: 'A Morning of Unease'

Hiroaki was staring blankly while watching the weather forecast on TV from inside his futon.

Sunday, February 27, 1977.
A week had already passed since he returned from Hakata.

Even though he had managed to get his section chief to allow him an advance on his pay and had taken the Shinkansen from Nagoya, that night, far from holding Fumiko, he hadn't even been able to see her.

The winter cold blowing in from the Sea of Japan was stronger than in any previous year, resulting in a major cold wave.

The snow-covered Shinkansen arrived in Hakata, and as soon as he left the ticket gate,
he called Fumiko's apartment.

Thinking about it now, it was a strange story, but Fumiko was in her room.
At that time, Hiroaki didn't have any doubts.

"I've just arrived. The Shinkansen was delayed by snow, and I've only just arrived..."

It had been over 12 hours since he had rushed out of the company without even eating lunch. He hadn't had anything to eat. But more than hunger, the desire to see Fumiko was at the forefront of his mind.

There was a slight pause on the other end of the receiver.
"...I'm not going to see you anymore..."
The words were cold and short.

"I'm sorry, I was wrong. I apologize, so..."
Hiroaki repeated such nonsense over and over again.

However, Fumiko, who had always listened to what Hiroaki said until now, would never say "yes." She stubbornly refused, and eventually fell silent.

"In that case, I'll stay here until tomorrow morning. If you don't come, I'll go back on the first train in the morning."

It was a spoiled, childish remark, not even a parting shot.

After hanging up the phone, Hiroaki didn't know what he had said. Was there some kind of developmental disorder, and was Fumiko trying to break up with him because she hated that version of him? Without knowing the reason, Hiroaki made his final gamble.

He entered the waiting room at Hakata Station and killed time without being able to sleep a wink.
There was no heating, and if he went outside, the relentless cold would attack him.

Before he knew it, a homeless person had wandered in, and unable to bear the squalor and the stench that assaulted his nose, Hiroaki wandered the deserted streets.

Unable to wait for dawn, he called again shortly after six in the morning.
But it was no use.

In the end, he hung up the receiver himself. There was nothing left to do but go home.

He returned to his dormitory in the afternoon and drank straight from a one-sho bottle he had bought on the way. Even then, he couldn't settle his mind, so he took the next day off as well and went out into the city alone at night. He visited a downtown tenement house where a senior colleague had taken him before, and in a small room on the second floor partitioned by plywood, he slept with a woman he couldn't have faced while sober.

There was no way that would make him feel any better.
But for Hiroaki at that time, there was no other way but to debase himself.

On the weekend, the section manager ordered me to participate in early morning baseball as a nominal team member. I had been a ghost member, as I hated participating from early Sunday morning, but I suppose he couldn't just stand by and watch anymore.

(Why baseball in the middle of winter...)

Holding onto that sulky thought, I set my alarm for five in the morning before going to bed, placed the clock by my pillow, and fell asleep.

The morning weather forecast said the low would be 5 degrees, but it would rise to 15 degrees by noon. Compared to spending the night in Hakata, this might be heaven—Hiroaki thought to himself as he woke up.

At 7:30 AM, Hiroaki arrived at the municipal baseball field next to the Australian Pavilion at the Expo site.

The manager was Section Manager Tasaki from Basic Design. He was apparently in the same year as Department Manager Ogata, but his appearance had already reached middle age. A thick belt dug into his protruding belly, looking completely out of place.

However, it is said that in his youth, he made a name for himself in Osaka high school baseball.
He was born in Kawachi and was a senior to Chief Murata.

"Hey Yamaoka, you're pitching today—"
"Eh... I'm the pitcher?"

Section Manager Tasaki knew that Hiroaki had played baseball in high school. Perhaps he took the slightly exaggerated stories Hiroaki told while drinking at face value, as he seemed intent on suddenly entrusting the mound to Hiroaki, who had only participated two or three times.

(I'm pretty sure today's game is supposed to be the preliminary round for the Yokkaichi City Spring Tournament...)

While suspicious of the section manager's intentions, Hiroaki gripped the brand-new rubber ball.

(To be continued)