Batting Practice

Shiba Batsu stood upon the battlements of Castle Algernon, hitting rocks out into the night. His eyes scanned the darkness, looking for more Steam Wolves to come pouring over the hill and lay siege to the castle. They should have headed west, he thought. They didn’t need to spend an entire day coming back here. There was no telling what was waiting out there in the dark.

“Shiba?” Tank’s massive shadow fell over the lower battlements as he stepped out onto the castle wall. “Shiba, we’re due to meet with King Algernon. The others are already in the high study.” Tank pointed up to the central tower. Light poured out the windows, and the silhouette of Golf’s unruly bangs appeared, peering down.

“You go ahead,” Shiba said. “I’ll be along at some point.”

“But Shiba, Golf is hoping the king will be able to tell us something about the Steam Wolves. Don’t you want to know where they came from?”

“I know where they came from. They came from the west.” Shiba pointed off to the horizon with his bat. “That’s where we should be.”

“But Golf says we need to understand the history of the area before we go. He says that might give us a clue to who we need to find if they have a connection to our world. That sounds like it might get us home.”

“Yeah. Golf’s got a lot of good ideas, doesn’t he?” Shiba tossed a rock high in the air and readied his bat. With a grunt, he swung. The bat flashed briefly, then sent the rock flying. It vanished for a second, before bursting into flame and disappearing over the horizon.

“I hate this place,” Shiba said. He held his bat out for Tank’s inspection. “See that?”

Tank examined the bat’s surface intently. The lacquer was perfect and unmarked over the fine grain of the wood, and the Louisville Slugger brand was as deep and dark as it had been the day it left the factory. “See what?” Tank said, confused. “There’s not a mark on it.”

“Exactly. I’ve been hitting rocks with it for an hour. There ought to at least be a nick or a dent in it. But there’s not. Not even a scratch.” Shiba bent to the pile of rocks at his feet and picked up another.

“Here, I never miss a swing. I always put the ball exactly where I want it to go. That last one’s gonna bounce off the roof of the mining shack where we fought the Steam Wolves. I’m better than Mickey Mantle, Tank. I’m better than Babe Ruth. I’m better than anybody!”

“Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted, Shiba?”