April 2045
The cycle had truly repeated. Ami had officially enrolled at Sakuragi High.
She wore the same dark blazer Shino once had, but she carried herself with the swagger of a Kato. However, the halls of Sakuragi held more than just memories; they held ghosts. On the wall of the gymnasium, there was a faded photo of the 2013 Baseball District Champions. Right in the center was Kevin, young and grinning, holding a trophy.
To the students of 2045, Kevin Kato was a "Legend." To Ami, he was just the guy who snored on the sofa and forgot to buy milk.
The Weight of the Name
"You’re his daughter, right?" the varsity softball coach asked on the first day of tryouts. "The 'Miracle Arm' Kato? No pressure, kid. But we’re expecting big things."
By the third week of the season, the "Legend" was suffocating her. Every time Ami stepped up to the plate, she heard the whispers from the stands. If she hit a home run, it was 'Of course, she has his genes.' If she struck out, it was 'Guess she didn't inherit the clutch gene.'
The breaking point came during a home game against their rival school. Kevin was in the stands, instinctually charting her pitches in a scout’s notebook. After a rough inning where Ami gave up three walks, she walked toward the dugout and saw her father gesturing toward his elbow, trying to give her a silent tip on her mechanics.
Ami didn't take the tip. She threw her glove into the dirt and glared at him.
The Legend vs. The Dad
That night at dinner, the air was thick.
"Your release point was too high in the fourth, Ami," Kevin started, his voice casual but his "Scout" brain fully engaged. "If you just snap the wrist a bit earlier—"
"I don't want to hear it, Dad!" Ami snapped, slamming her chopsticks down. "I’m not you! I’m not 'The Legend.' I’m just Ami! Every time I walk into that school, I’m walking in your shadow. And then I come home, and you’re treating me like a prospect you’re scouting for the industrial league!"
She stood up, her eyes bright with angry tears. "I hate being a 'Kato' right now."
She ran to her room. Kevin sat stunned, his notebook still open on the table. Shino, who had been quietly editing a manuscript, finally spoke.
"You’re coaching, Kevin. You aren't fathering."
"I’m trying to help her win!" Kevin argued.
"She doesn't want to win for the school or for the scouts," Shino said, closing her laptop. "She wants to win for herself. But she feels like every time she plays, she’s just an extension of your career. She’s eighteen years old, Kevin. She needs a dad to tell her it’s okay to lose, not a scout to tell her how to fix her elbow."
The Peace Offering
The next day, Kevin didn't go to the game. Instead, he spent the afternoon at the old library where Shino used to hide. He realized that for all these years, he had been so proud of Ami’s talent that he’d forgotten to protect her spirit.
When Ami came home—they’d lost, 4-2—she found Kevin in the backyard. He wasn't holding a glove. He was holding a bag of her favorite convenience store ice cream and sitting on the old swing set.
"I’m sorry, Ami," he said as she sat down beside him. "I forgot that the only thing I should be scouting is how to be a better dad. From now on, the notebook stays in the car. I’m just the guy in the stands with the loud cheering voice and the embarrassing 'Go Ami!' sign."
Ami took the ice cream, her shoulders finally dropping. "The sign is optional, Dad. Very optional."
"How about a compromise?" Kevin smiled. "I won't give you tips unless you ask. But if you do ask, I’m the best in the business."
Ami leaned her head on his shoulder, the "Rivalry" with her father’s legacy finally settling into a truce. "I hit a double in the sixth, Dad. No one cheered for 'The Legend.' They cheered for me."
"I know," Kevin whispered. "I was watching from behind the fence."
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