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The rest of the cadets peered over Zeke’s crouched form as he opened the flaps of the waterlogged cardboard box, revealing the old, musty baseball equipment inside.
“It looks like garbage,” Annie critiqued, picking up a well-worn glove that smelled of mildew.
“That’s because it is,” Zeke replied as he began to toss gloves out to the others. The equipment was courtesy of Mr. Ksaver, who just so happened to discover that the athletics department of a Marleyan school was throwing out their old gear. “But you know what they say, ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.’”
As Annie’s expression grew more critical, Marcel interjected, holding up a hand to ward off Annie from continuing. “And we will be sure to do whatever it is you want to do on the eve of your Inheritance Ceremony too, Annie.”
Reiner eyed Zeke as the older blond kept digging through the box, almost appearing hesitant to ask a question that had been on his mind.
“Hey, Zeke? Are you feeling nervous about tomorrow at all?”
Zeke didn’t take his eyes off of the box as he replied. “Does it matter? It’s happening regardless, so there’s no point in being nervous.” He paused, only to begin collecting a special glove and padding within his arms. It sounded harsh, but it was sound advice for the life they were born to live. “Besides, Mr. Ksaver said I won’t remember much after the initial injection. It’ll be like waking up from a dream,” the older boy paused, only to look up at Reiner with a smirk. “You know what you should be nervous about though? Being on the receiving end of my pitches…” Zeke pulled out the final piece he was looking for, a helmet, before placing it in Reiner’s arms, “Mr. Catcher!”
Reiner scrunched his nose after breathing in too close to the gear. “But it’s moldy!”
Zeke dusted off his knees as he stood up, practically double the height of the rest of the cadets. He placed a hand on Reiner's shoulder, giving him an encouraging pat. “You want to be the Armored, don’t you? Think of it as your armor. I need you to be the defender of home plate!”
With just a little encouragement, Reiner gave a determined nod in return. “You got it, War Chief.”
“Oh brother, ” Porco muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes at the usage of Zeke’s new title just prior to receiving an elbow from Marcel.
“Okay, everyone go out where I told you to stand!” Zeke instructed. “You’ll get the hang of it as we play.” Truth to be told, Zeke had never played a full game of baseball, but he understood the rules well enough to try.
With Zeke’s guidance, the cadets spent the past hour getting the field ready for play. The bases were old sandbags and the boundary lines were made from dragging their boots through the dirt. It wasn’t anything to brag about, but it will certainly do.
“Hey, Zeke,” Marcel began as he walked beside the taller boy out to his position. “One more question… Why is it called a Shortstop?”
Zeke halted on the pile of dirt that was his makeshift pitcher’s mound. “Huh,” the blond shrugged, “Truthfully? Beats me. Maybe it means you’ll stop being short one day and catch up to me.” He teased with a wink.
“Very funny,” Marcel replied with a snort.
“Are you done chit chatting?” Annie called out from across the field in the batter’s box. She was the lead off batter for today’s game.
Zeke took a look around the field to make sure everyone was in position. Bertholdt was at first base, Pieck at second, Marcel at shortstop, and Porco at third. He nodded at the pair at home plate, which prompted them both to get into their ready stances.
With his hands together, the newly appointed War Chief lunged his left foot forward, bringing his right arm back simultaneously. The ball left his hand like a missile, the sheer momentum causing his back leg to lift high up off the ground.
This was truly the first time the rest of the cadets had ever seen Zeke Jaeger pitch. It was so fast that Annie didn’t even anticipate having to swing that fast.
“AHHHH!” Reiner screamed out, ducking to avoid the ball, causing it to roll several yards behind them.
“You’re supposed to catch it, Braun! You’re the catcher! Not the dodger!” Porco yelled out from second in between his fits of laughter.
“Oh yeah? You try being back here and then see how tough you are!” Reiner quipped back as he trotted off to go grab the ball. “Zeke’s pitches could knock your head off!”
“That’s what the padding is for!” Zeke reassured him with a smile, holding up his glove for Reiner to throw the ball back to him.
Reiner glanced worriedly between Zeke and Annie as he resumed his position behind home plate. “Hey, Zeke? Maybe it would be better if you threw it a little bit slower–”
“Can it. I’m trying to concentrate,” Annie cut him off, rotating the bat in her hands in anticipation.
Her eyes narrowed, locking onto her target as it left Zeke’s hand once again. She reacted in a split second and swung with all of her might. The bat made a resounding CRACK as it connected with the ball, sending a screeching line drive directly along the first base line and straight into Bertholdt.
The brute force of the hit knocked him straight off of his feet, his back smacking into the patchy grass beneath him.
Alarmed, Zeke and Marcel instantly darted over to him.
“Hey, Bertholdt. You okay?” Marcel questioned, assessing the damage as he shook Bertholdt’s shoulders.
With the wind clearly knocked out of him, Bertholdt flipped over his glove with a quiver, presenting the baseball. “I caught it,” his voice rasped in his throat.
By this time, Annie caught up with them and gave him one look over. “Nice catch.”
Zeke and Marcel exchanged an eye roll as a blush came over Bertholdt’s face, the elder leaning down to help him back onto his feet. “Attaboy. Walk it off,” Zeke encouraged, giving him a few pats to his back.
After Annie, it was Pieck’s turn. Just by looking at her, it was evident that baseball was not Finger’s forte, as she was holding the bat like it was a fly swatter.
Knowing Pieck didn’t have the athletic prowess that Annie did, Zeke threw a much slower, less accurate ball, wanting to give her a free walk to first instead. Unfortunately, Pieck wasn’t following such a plan, and swung at it anyway.
“No–Piecky–You aren’t supposed to swing at those! It was a bad pitch!” Zeke advised as Reiner threw back the ball.
Pieck merely blinked in response. “Oh, I didn’t think you threw bad pitches.”
The comment earned a few giggles from the peanut gallery. Not wanting to embarrass himself further, Zeke pitched again, still slow, but this time dead center.
Pieck hit it... sort of. She stopped swinging halfway through, bunting the ball right in front of home.
“Pieck, run! And Reiner, don’t just stare at it, throw the ball!” Zeke instructed, coaching both players at the same time.
It took Reiner a few moments to fully process that it was a live ball. “I thought it was supposed to go forwards, not down!” He scooped it up, his equipment jostling as he ran, and threw it to Bertholdt with all of his might. Pieck just barely made it to first by the time it landed in his mitt.
As Zeke caught the returning ball from Bertholdt, he nodded over to the younger Galliard. “Alright, Porco, you’re up!”
As Porco jogged over to home and picked up the bat, he took a few practice swings to warm up. “Pieck, get ready. I’m sending you home!” He called out, stepping into the box in a readied stance.
Fully confident Pieck wouldn’t dare to steal second, Zeke kept his eyes locked on home. He threw the first pitch and it went right past Porco without a swing, landing in Reiner’s glove.
“Strike!” Reiner called out, throwing it back to Zeke.
Porco whipped his head around to stare down at Reiner, his eyes wide with fury. “Strike?! Are you kidding me?!”
Reiner raised an eyebrow in defiance. “Are you questioning the War Chief’s accuracy?”
“WHAT?” Porco began to shout. “NO! I’m questioning your eyes! You’re blind!”
“Don’t worry about it, bro!” Marcel shouted from out in the field. “You still got two more! Make it count!”
Porco gave Reiner one more stink eye before turning his attention with a grumble back to the pitcher.
Zeke sighed before winding up his next pitch; he should’ve known better to pair these two so close together. To prevent another war from breaking out over home plate, he opted to place this one right in the center, aiming to make it an undisputed strike.
Fueled by spite and having something to prove, Porco swung with a growl, sending it soaring up into the sky. All the rest of the cadets could do was watch as the ball sailed over their heads and out of the field. Reiner even ripped off his helmet to get a better look.
“YEAH!” Porco cheered, dropping his bat as he began to run. He soon caught up with Pieck, who was a much slower runner than him, practically pushing her with both hands to get her to go faster.
The ball exited the field, beginning its descent once it made its way to the main street.
“Oh no…” Marcel lamented aloud.
CRASH!
The ball landed straight down into a fresh produce stand, causing several fruits and vegetables to go tumbling into the street. The yelling and shouting came shortly after.
“Here, take this.” Zeke quickly tossed his glove to Bertholdt, who was still wincing from the wreckage. “Everyone scatter!”
As Marcel began to shoo everyone in the opposite direction, Bertholdt turned to question Zeke. “What are you going to do?”
“What the War Chief should do,” Zeke started with a smile. Take the heat.”
No doubt this would get back to Commander Magath, but for once, Zeke didn’t seem to care. He didn’t know what his punishment would be, or maybe it’d be overlooked just this one time as his inheritance ceremony was of far more importance. But whether it was a strong talking to, meal restrictions, or a few good licks, he would still do it all over again…
For all of it was certainly worth a perfect game.