The next morning Suho went into central Los Angeles with Mark, early.

August in LA was the archetypal summer city, sunlight pouring down and glaring off everything.

The heat shimmered up off the asphalt.

The dry, humidity-free air scorched his lungs on every breath.

Suho was walking along behind Mark when Mark stopped dead in the middle of the road.

His face was screwed up in serious deliberation.

“Ugh. What do I do about this?”

Suho asked, puzzled.

“What? Is something wrong?”

Mark let out a long sigh.

“I’m trying to work out who’d be best to learn from…”

Having agreed to help Suho, Mark didn’t want to hand him off to just anybody.

Suho’s hitting was so unusual.

No. It’s honestly so awful that he needs a specialist who can put a finger on it properly.

Mark hesitated a long while and then proposed three places.

“Okay, I’ve got it down to three.”

He counted them off on his fingers.

“First is my old high school. The coach there has real fundamentals. He’s perfect for guys who start playing young. Since you’re starting over, it’d be good for laying the most basic groundwork. And it’d be the cheapest, too. Actually it’d cost nothing.”

But it wasn’t all upside.

“Thing about a school is it’s relaxed. And American schools don’t have a culture of pushing students. It’s different from Korea.”

“How would you know what Korea’s like?”

“Suho. I’m looking right at you with my own two eyes and I don’t know? Kidding. I saw it in a drama.”

He went on.

“Second is the big-name private academies in LA. Former major leaguers and famous hitting specialists teach there personally. These people have coached a lot of pros, so they could handle an unusual case like you. Only the cost is enormous. There’s a reason they’re famous.”

He continued straight on.

“Last is the academy where I did my rehab. Their high-end equipment and data analysis systems are incredibly well developed. They’ll film your swing with high-speed cameras, run it through every kind of sensor, and pinpoint exactly what’s wrong.”

Mark sighed.

“Only there’s a problem. The academies I’m describing cost a great deal of money. It’ll be beyond anything you’d imagine.”

Suho didn’t think about it.

“Before we decide, Mark. Assuming money isn’t a problem, which would you recommend most?”

“The one where I rehabbed, obviously. I went through it myself, and the result is that I’m standing here with you waiting on a Dodgers test. But like I said, it’s way too expensive.”

“How much?”

Mark frowned and folded down fingers.

“With the friends-and-family discount, ten thousand a month.”

Suho’s eyes went wide for a second, and then he nodded.

This was a place where one serving of pork belly cost fifty thousand won.

“That’s fine, then.”

Mark shook his head, exasperated.

“Excuse me. Not one thousand. Ten thousand. Do you not understand how much money that is?”

“I don’t know about that. Let’s go there.”

“Do— do you have money?”

“Yeah.”

“You— you’re not telling me you’re some rich kid…”

Suho let out a short, humorless laugh.

“Rich, right… unfortunately I’m on my own.”

Mark understood what he meant, and his head dropped.

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No. It’s fine.”

To shift a mood that had gone bleak, Suho opened his phone, searched up an article, and held it out.

Mark ran it through a translation app, read it, and his eyes went wide.

“First-rounder? You were a first-rounder?”

“Yeah. Nothing to brag about in front of you. It’s the KBO.”

“Hey. A first-rounder is a first-rounder. And is Korean baseball a league you get to look down on? It isn’t! Active major leaguers go over there.”

Mark added the next part almost in a whisper.

“They go because they failed in the majors, obviously, and it’s true it’s still well behind America…”

Then his volume came back up.

“Anyway, that league’s the third biggest professional operation there is, after us and Japan. Third in the world!”

“That’s true.”

“Now the puzzle makes sense.”

“What puzzle?”

“Okay, sorry, this is going to sound like I keep insulting you. When I first saw you I nearly grabbed the back of my neck and went down. That’s how bad you looked. If you showed your swing to any random kid walking down this street right now? They’d laugh and go, that’s not how you swing, and keep walking.”

Mark turned serious.

“And you still produced results at that tryout, and now you’ve got a Dodgers test. I feel like I’ve finally learned the secret of how that was possible. First-rounder. You’ve got overwhelming talent, same as any of the geniuses. And the results backed it up.”

Mark added that a KBO first-round pick was more than enough to draw the interest of a major league organization.

“I appreciate you being generous about it. But I still failed in the farm system.”

“It’s not over though, is it? You’re still going. So you haven’t failed. Anyway…”

Mark stared wide-eyed at one part of the article.

“One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand… how much is this? Five hundred fifty million? Five hundred fifty million won is… roughly four hundred thousand dollars here? Wow. That’s a good haul. Compared to American first-rounders it’s a bit thin, sure.”

American first-rounders took home as much as twenty times Suho’s figure.

“Now I get why you offered to cover my room and board. You’ve got money left.”

“Yeah. A fair amount left.”

Most of it was left, in fact, but Suho had no desire to go around bragging about money.

And it wasn’t an amount worth bragging about to anyone in the first place.

The reason he’d shown the article at all was that it seemed better than showing a bank balance.

Part of it was about getting into a better training facility, and part of it was for Mark’s sake.

Announcing he wanted the expensive place with no money to back it would have looked like bravado.

And Suho liked Mark a great deal.

The man had made a wholehearted effort to help him without once looking at his background or anything else.

He judged this much was fine to open up.

Koreans already knew from the news what he’d been paid as a signing bonus.

And the moment I fail that test… I don’t get another chance.

Mark was young and had chances left. For Suho this was the last one.

Even if it weren’t, he had to treat it as though it were.

You can only go forward by deciding there’s nothing behind you.

So if it meant surviving the test.

I don’t care about opening up everything I have.

That was how desperate Suho was.

Mark, of course, had something to say about this part as well.

“So does that mean you’re covering my academy fees too?”

“That’s— that’s a bit—”

“Kidding. I’m not that shameless. Especially since I’ve still got sessions left on my account. Anyway.”

Mark added it with a serious expression.

“Don’t go bragging about money in public! America’s a scary country. If it gets out to the wrong person that you’ve got money, next thing you’re being kidnapped in the night.”

“Is— is that true?”

“Downtown like this, not really. Just be careful. It’s not Korea.”

“Mark.”

“Yeah?”

“Your voice was much louder than mine…”

Mark clapped both hands over his mouth.

“S— sorry. Damn it, I was born with a set of pipes… anyway, I’ll take you up on it and stop worrying about it. Let’s go to the academy where I rehabbed. It’ll be good for you and good for me.”

The coaches there might well be a step below the other, pricier academies.

But it was the place Mark had actually attended.

And he was certain the coach there would look after Suho more closely than one at some academy neither of them knew.

“Yeah, please. And tell me anything you want to eat.”

Mark grinned and started walking.

“Save that until you like the facility and the coach, all right?”

Suho let out a small laugh.

He really is a good kid.

Suho went with Mark to the academy where he had done his rehab.

Out on the edge of the LA metro area, the building looked ordinary from outside.

Inside was a clean, spacious indoor training facility.

The place was full of high-end equipment, and a number of young players were already sweating through their work this early.

Mark strode across the floor like he knew it and went up to a male coach.

The coach spotted him and broke into a wide smile.

“Mark! Welcome back! What brings you here? Don’t tell me… you flunked the tryout and came crawling back?”

Mark shrugged at the ribbing.

“Come on, no chance. You know who I am, saying a thing like that?”

“Who are you?”

The coach narrowed his eyes.

Mark scratched the back of his head.

“Right. Ha. Anyway, of course not. I got a test offer from the Dodgers, that’s why I’m here! Two weeks from now!”

The coach’s face lit up.

He grabbed Mark’s shoulders and shook him.

“There it is! Passed through my hands, and look at the offer you got! Congratulations, Mark!”

“I feel like you’d have backed straight out if I’d said I flunked…”

The coach laughed and waved a hand.

“Ha! You’re funny.”

While the coach was praising Mark and sharing in it, he noticed Suho standing beside him.

“So who’s this?”

Mark grinned and introduced him.

“This is my friend Suho Oh. He’ll be training here with me for two weeks. He’s got a Dodgers test too.”

“Oh ho. Same as you?”

Interest came into the coach’s eyes.

Then he put out a hand to Suho.

“Good to meet you. John Williams. Coach John is fine.”

Suho took the offered hand.

“Hello. Suho Oh.”

The greetings done, John looked him up and down.

His eyes were sharp and warm at once.

“Good. What do you want? What kind of help are you after?”

Suho didn’t hesitate.

“I want to fix my swing.”

“Fix, is it.”

Something subtle passed through John’s expression.

When a ballplayer says he wants to be fixed, it usually means the problem is serious.

“All right. Before you sign up with the academy, though, shall we have a look at what you’ve got? Grab a bat and get in the box.”

Suho nodded.

While he collected a bat and headed for the box, Mark leaned in and murmured to John.

“Coach, try not to be too shocked. This guy… he’s a genius.”

Mark didn’t actually think the current Suho was a genius.

If anything he’d have been in contention for the least gifted man in the building.

Because by American standards, Suho had effectively no fundamentals.

But Mark had brought him here anyway.

And he wanted him to make real progress in these two weeks.

More than that, he was certain there was no other way to draw the potential out to its maximum.

Could be my own view is just shallow.

He hadn’t experienced anywhere else, after all.

But Coach will change him. Only for that, Coach has to like him.

Mark was worried about whether Suho could rouse John’s enthusiasm.

John was a man with plenty of enthusiasm — strictly for players he wanted to teach.

With Suho having no fundamentals at all, Mark thought it might not be easy.

And if his enthusiasm doesn’t come, that’s fine too.

He was prepared to work on the coach directly until Suho got to learn here.

Besides which, Mark now knew Suho had been a KBO first-round pick.

A piece the KBO ruined, but Coach could pull it off. Let’s run with that angle.

Then Suho’s first swing came.

The ball came in.

A rush of air, and nothing.

Crack.

Suho reproduced exactly what he had shown at the tryout.

Mark hurried to read John’s face.

“Coach… g— genius, right? He’s a genius, isn’t he?”

“Quiet.”

Instead of answering, John pointed straight ahead.

There stood the equipment, a state-of-the-art system analyzing Suho’s swing.

When the session ended, every piece of data — swing speed, launch angle, the bat’s path — printed out on a sheet of paper.

John took the sheet in hand and his expression turned grave.

We’re finished, Mark thought, and then — what was this?

John’s eyes had changed.

Like a man who had found a pearl on a beach.

He came over, hooked an arm around Mark’s shoulders.

“Where did you dig up a treasure like this?”

“Wh— what do you mean?”

“I get first crack at raising a newborn! That’s pure luck!”

Ah. That’s what it was.

Mark let out a breath. Relief. Real relief.

A player’s eye and a coach’s eye really are different.

And so he was, sincerely, very relieved.

End of Chapter 8