That evening, Suho and Mark finished training and left the academy.

It had been as brutal as John promised, enough to break a body, and there was a faint satisfaction on Suho’s face.

“Suho! You worked hard today, so let’s eat properly! How about burgers? Perfect balance of carbs, protein, and fat, right?”

Suho laughed a little at the suggestion.

He’d never thought of a burger as healthy food, so it was mildly surprising.

Mark seemed to read it and frowned.

“Hey, are you looking down on the burger? A proper burger has the best nutritional balance there is! And it tastes good!”

“Fine. Let’s have burgers.”

Suho didn’t much care what they ate.

He’d meant to buy Mark whatever he wanted, and what he wanted was burgers.

In Korea a burger was just fast food.

And for a Korean, strength came from rice.

This was America, of course, where rice wasn’t the staple, but he’d have liked something a bit better.

He clearly wants it, so nothing to be done.

The two of them headed to a burger place downtown.

Suho took a bite of a handmade burger, juice-heavy patty and fresh vegetables together, and his expression eased on its own.

It was expensive for a burger, but a dinner that good after training was worth the price.

Mark finished one, picked up a second, and asked.

“How was training today? Coach’s eyes practically rolled back in his head when he saw your swing.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure yet.”

Mark’s eyebrows went up.

“Fair. That was practically discipline, wasn’t it? Just watching from the side wore me out.”

Suho shook his head.

“I’m not saying his method is wrong. I only got scolded today. I never once produced the swing he wanted. That’s on me falling short.”

There was a fine thread of frustration in his voice.

Which was inevitable.

The swing the coach was teaching was so unfamiliar.

Every instruction made sense to his head, and his body ignored every principle in it completely.

Habits set over years refused the minute changes the man was asking for.

I’m starting to understand how painful repetition without understanding really is.

But it was fine.

It was only the first day.

Who in the world does something well from the very beginning?

Work hard enough and I’ll get there.

While Suho was steeling himself.

Mark was privately astounded.

Wow… I’m genuinely jealous.

Of Suho’s makeup, that is.

Because John’s method today was not something you saw easily in America.

Mark had been honestly shocked watching Suho train.

Sure, in the Korean education system that much discipline is probably nothing…

If Mark had been in his place he wouldn’t have endured it.

And above all.

He really never blames anyone else.

Suho had spent a total of eight hours on swing correction today.

And hadn’t once produced the swing the coach wanted.

Had he been cutting corners?

No. He had worked genuinely hard.

Which makes it fair enough to wonder whether the coach’s method is wrong.

Suho wasn’t wondering at all.

He was only blaming himself for falling short.

Which is somehow exactly why I want to root for him.

Mark didn’t really know Suho.

It had only been a few days since they met.

But this much he was sure of.

This guy’s got real character. And I’ve got an eye for people!

Having finished congratulating himself, Mark asked.

“Anyway, rest up and train again tomorrow. Right?”

“Yeah. I should.”

“Good. Follow me, then. Let’s get to the room.”

After eating they headed for a motel booked in advance.

They took a room each, not far from the academy.

Mark’s home was nearby, but he had decided to spend the two weeks with Suho.

He wanted to watch the hard training from as close as possible and cheer his friend’s attempt on.

“Sleep well for tomorrow. And tomorrow the swing will be better.”

Suho gave a small nod at the encouragement and went into his room.

Mark went into his own and neither washed up nor got into bed.

His body was howling for recovery, and he sat down in a folding chair with a serious expression instead.

Will Suho actually be better tomorrow…

The doubt had set in.

Coach said Suho has to have that swing finished inside a week.

And today’s eight hours of training had come to nothing.

Ugh, I don’t know. Just sleep. Suho will figure it out.

How many hours did he toss and turn?

He finally got his eyes shut, and then woke out of the short sleep.

The clock had just gone past one in the morning.

Only about three hours.

Not home, so of course it’s uncomfortable.

Thirsty, Mark left the room to buy a bottle of water.

And in that moment he doubted his own eyes.

Someone was standing in front of the motel like a shadow. It was Suho.

You— you’re insane!

Mark rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was seeing straight.

Suho was swinging a bat in the dark without a word.

The swing was still awkward, and there was a fierce determination in the movement.

More than that, the asphalt in front of the motel was soaked with his sweat.

Drops that wouldn’t dry even in the night air had pooled like a river.

Mark was appalled at the sight.

What the hell! How many hours has he been at this?

He ran over to him.

“Hey! Stop it! You trained all day today! You have to rest! Your muscles need time!”

Mark tried to force the bat down and Suho didn’t budge.

His eyes were still fixed on a point in the empty air.

“It’s fine.”

His voice had cracked.

“I don’t care if the muscle tears, or if it causes problems. All I want is to have this swing a day sooner. No. I have to have it.”

Mark was speechless.

The recklessness of it.

But there wasn’t a waver in Suho’s eyes.

And he wasn’t being stupid about it.

Because nobody knew better than he did how far his body could hold.

He had staked everything on baseball and driven himself to ruin with it all along.

If this much were enough to break him, he’d have broken long ago.

That was the truth of it.

Suho’s body had been conditioned by years of desperate work into a steel durability that ordinary players couldn’t imagine.

Mark was exasperated.

No — what he actually felt was urgency.

“Hey! You wait right there!”

Then he hurried back for a bat and came out to stand beside him.

“You think you’re the only one who knows how to work? I know how too!”

Suho laughed at the sight and swung alongside him.

Unfortunately their training didn’t last long.

Which is to say.

A siren went off.

And a police car pulled up in front of them.

An officer got out and asked.

“We got a call. Why exactly are you swinging bats in the middle of the night, frightening people?”

“Right, so, we aren’t weird people—”

Mark hurried through an explanation.

The officer gave a short nod.

“Well now. Future Dodgers major leaguers, are we? Unfortunately I think that’s it for tonight. And there’s a park a little further along. Practice there, if you would.”

“W— we’ll do that…”

Once the officer had gone, Mark apologized to Suho.

“Sorry. I think the call was probably about me…”

Suho was small enough not to be much of a threat.

Mark was big enough to seem plenty threatening to other people. That was his reasoning.

“It’s fine. I was about to rest anyway.”

Suho smiled meaningfully and went back to his room.

The next morning.

Mark dragged his stiff body out of sleep with difficulty.

He had swung a bat next to Suho for all of thirty minutes before dawn, and every muscle in his body was screaming.

Shoulders, obviously, and his back and legs ached with it.

Damn it, thirty minutes and I hurt like this. So what about Suho?

Judging from the sweat on the ground, he had probably been out there three hours at minimum.

Mark got out of bed and knocked on Suho’s door immediately.

“Suho! You okay? You up already?”

A moment later the door opened and Suho appeared.

Mark was startled at his face.

After working his body that savagely until nearly dawn, there wasn’t a trace of fatigue on him. He looked clear.

Like a man who had rested the entire previous day.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Been up a while.”

Mark was at a loss.

“Is your body actually made of steel? I swung thirty more minutes than usual last night and I feel like death, and you’re perfectly fine. Did you sleep properly?”

Suho smiled awkwardly.

“More or less.”

Mark didn’t ask further.

The two of them headed to the academy.

When they came into the training floor, Coach John met them.

“Hmm.”

He studied Suho’s face closely.

Because he expected the fatigue to be obvious.

He’d put him through training that intense yesterday, so severe muscle soreness was a certainty.

John spoke, sounding concerned.

“Suho, how’s the body? The soreness must be bad. Keep it light today, just loosen up. Don’t push it.”

Suho nodded under the worried look.

“Yes, Coach. I’m fine.”

He started loosening up as instructed.

Stretching, jogging lightly, warming the body through.

Mark warmed up beside him.

Mark watched his condition the whole time, and Suho seemed entirely unbothered.

Warm-up done, Suho picked up a bat immediately.

Then he headed for the box where John had demonstrated yesterday.

John watched him and tilted his head.

He had distinctly said to loosen up and nothing more.

Then Mark, finished warming up, came over beside him.

“Uh, Coach…”

John asked without taking his eyes off Suho.

“What? If it’s nothing important, don’t.”

Mark hesitated.

He was weighing whether to mention what had happened before dawn.

And then it came.

A rush of air.

The heavy sound of a bat splitting the quiet filled the training floor.

The same sound as when John demonstrated yesterday. A perfect swing with nothing extraneous in it.

“Wh— what?!”

The exclamation came out of Mark on its own.

John’s eyes went wide, as though he couldn’t believe it.

Both of them fixed on Suho.

Crack.

Suho’s bat cut the air and produced a perfect impact.

His body was distinctly different from yesterday.

The legs drove solidly off the ground, the hips turned without hesitation.

And the force running out through the arms and wrists loaded entirely into the bat.

The swing that had been so awkward and unnatural yesterday was nowhere to be found.

A swing smooth as running water and explosively powerful at the same time.

It was unmistakably John’s swing.

John’s and Mark’s eyes went round.

“Hey. M— Mark. Does this make any sense? As of yesterday he couldn’t get a feel for it at all!”

“Uh, Coach…”

“What.”

“I don’t think it’s nothing important after all. No. I think I really have to tell you.”

“Wh— what is it, why are you dithering?”

“So yesterday Suho… no. It was dawn, so today Suho… it started last night and ran into this morning, so yesterday and today Suho—!”

Mark relayed what had happened.

John blinked slowly, unable to accept it.

“And you want me to believe that? Not being able to move your body at all after yesterday’s session alone is the normal outcome.”

Certainty came into Mark’s eyes.

“But look. He isn’t, is he? He looks completely fine, doesn’t he?”

“Y— yes. He really does.”

Even after he finished speaking John’s mouth hung open, and his eyes wouldn’t come off Suho.

In a single day.

And through nothing but repetition without understanding, Suho had burned the swing perfectly into his body.

John had been able to predict the savage determination and the genius.

But Suho was using that determination and that genius to transcend the limits of a human being.

More precisely, John realized through him how narrow the limit he had set for a human being really was.

And he had witnessed that what breaks that limit is not logic or talent, but pure will.

End of Chapter 11