Very few people knew who invented baseball, and the history of the sport was generally relegated to dusty tomes maintained by equally dusty scholars. Still, the tradition held on, particularly on the Eastern Continent, where the local teams had been battling each other in the diamond for decades.
       One such club was the Kalm Fangs. This team was one of the older ones in the informal Greater Midgar Area League, and had its share of legendary matches, amazing victories, and humiliating defeats. It also had an unusual claim to fame-- when packs of mutant wolves with indigo fur started appearing in the surrounding meadows a few years ago, the locals jokingly named these creatures after their own ferocious Fangs. However, unlike these malicious beasts, the baseball-playing Fangs were much beloved in the town of Kalm.
       What follows is the tale of one young member of the Fangs, and the chance encounter which would come to change her life.

       Elena Terry was stirred awake by a bright beam of sunlight hitting her face. She pinched her closed eyelids even tighter and groaned, pulling the covers over her head.
       "C'mon Elena, you've gotta get up sometime! You have any idea how late it is?"
       She recognized the voice as belonging to Steve, her annoying little brother. So he must've opened the curtains, she thought ruefully. Slowly, she pulled the sheet down and half-squinted, half-glared at her sibling, who was standing in the bright light.
       "I'm tired, okay? Can't you see that?"
       He shook his head. "That's what you get for stayin' out so late!"
       Elena rolled her eyes; for a fifteen year-old, he was acting just a little too parental. "It's not like I was out partying! We have a big game tonight against the Sector Four Ultimas, and we had to plan strategy."
       "Oh sure, like hanging out in the bar all evening with a bunch of guys and talking shit about the other team is 'strategy'."
       "Hey, you watch your language!" Elena snapped, bolting out of bed. As she reached for the nearest thing she could throw at him, Steve ran across the room and shuttled down the stairs. She sighed and glanced at the alarm clock in her hand; it was pretty late. After setting the clock back down on her nightstand, she started to get ready for the day.

       After getting something to eat, Elena left the house, wearing a pair of cutoff jeans and a t-shirt, her blonde hair bound into two short pigtails. It was already early in the afternoon, and it was bright and hot, as was typical for this time of year. She walked toward the town square, returning various neighbors' greetings and wishes of good luck for tonight's game.
       It was a fairly normal Saturday; lots of people were milling about, getting their errands done, and there were a good number of miners-- including a few of her teammates-- who had come home for the weekend from their camps beyond the Midgar Swamp. However, there was one person who stood out; a middle-aged man of average height, but with broad shoulders and a pronounced chin. He was leaning against a stack of barrels in front of the inn, his short brown hair slightly rustling in the breeze, sharp grey eyes carefully observing the passers-by. What was most peculiar about this stranger was his formal manner of dress-- he wore a dark blue suit, with a white shirt and black tie. Certainly, Elena thought, it was a strange choice of clothing for this type of weather.
       Just then, his eyes shifted in her direction, and she found herself caught in his gaze. She wasn't sure what to do; she didn't want to seem unfriendly or wimpy by running away, so instead she just stayed where she was while the man started toward her.
       "You know, after so many years of doing this, I could never get used to people staring at me," said the man as he stopped in front of Elena. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "And I don't think I ever will. So… what's the deal, kid?"
       "I-- I'm sorry!" she stammered, her head lowered. "It's just that I've never seen anyone like you before, not around these parts."
       "That's understandable," the man replied. "Outside of Midgar, people like me do tend to stand out."
       "Oh-- so you're from Midgar?"
       "Yeah. I'm sort of here on business, looking for potential SOLDIER candidates. Here's my card."
       He pulled a small white rectangle from one of his pockets and handed it to her. The business card featured a Shinra logo embossed in red and gold; next to it were the words, "Garamonde Adams, Shinra Turk Alliance", followed by an address and a couple of phone numbers.
       "You're with the Turks?" she asked.
       Garamonde nodded. "You know about us, then?"
       She shrugged. "Only what I read in the papers."
       "I see. So, what's your name?"
       "Elena. Don't see why you'd be interested in me, though. I thought they didn't allow women into SOLDIER."
       "They don't, but that's not why I chose to introduce myself to you. See, I'm a bit of a baseball fan, and when I saw you across the street, I knew I had to meet you."
       Elena blushed. "Y-- you've heard of me?"
       "Are you kidding? All my friends who've seen the Fangs play rave about their seventeen-year old girl pitcher. They say you have an amazing strikeout record, and that you're cute, too." He laughed. "Of course, I didn't believe this last bit until they showed me pictures. I bet you have a lot of boyfriends."
       "No, not really," she replied, only semi-modestly.
       "You know, I'm so busy with my job that I've never gotten a chance to see you play for myself. I'll have to see if I can get some time off for the next Fangs game."
       "Well, are you going to be in Kalm much longer? Because we're playing the Sector Four Ultimas tonight!"
       Garamonde raised an eyebrow. "Really! Good thing I took this scouting mission. What time?"
       "Game starts at seven."
       "Hmm… I might be able to make it. Well, I'm sure you have things to do, so don't let me keep you. Perhaps I'll see you later?"
       "Sure thing," she said, beaming. "I'll be sure to play my best, so you can have stories of your own to tell!"
       He smiled. "I'm looking forward to it already."

       Elena continued on her way, eventually leaving town for the large ball field that sat just beyond the old stone walls. A few of her teammates were already there, practicing for the evening's main event.
       "Hey guys!" she greeted. "How's everyone feeling?"
       "Kind of nervous," answered Denny, the Fangs' second baseman. "We've had a pretty good winning streak going, but I hear this team is really something."
       "Yeah. They're supposed to have an amazing pitcher," added the shortstop, who was named Mark.
       Bridget, the only other girl on the team, who served as the catcher,came up to Elena. "Not only that, but rumor has it that they're a really tight unit overall."
       Elena bit her bottom lip, since these matters did seem a bit worrying.
       "I don't believe what I'm hearing from you pansies. We can't go into tonight's game fretting over hearsay!"
       All four Fangs turned their heads in the direction of the voice. It was Zeke, the old weapon shop owner who served as the team's coach and sponsor.
       "Don't worry about all those damned rumors and just go out there fighting," Zeke said as he came closer to his charges. "Show those Ultimas that we don't give a damn what we've heard about 'em. Let those city boys know that they're playing in Kalm, now."
       Mark asked, "But what do we do if none of our strategies work? I was thinking over some of the stuff we were discussing last night, and if this team really is as great as it's supposed to be--"
       "We'll just have to observe them during the game, see how they play, then try and use it to our advantage. Nothing new."
       "Sir," Elena said, "you're absolutely right. We can't be too nervous about a team we've never played against. You want us to go out there and make you proud-- is that what you're trying to tell us?"
       "Of course not! I have five hundred gil riding on this game, so you knuckleheads better not screw it up!"
       With that, Zeke left the field. The four teammates exchanged glances.
       "I'm really sick of that guy," Denny muttered. "Where does he get off, betting on his own team like that?"
       Elena replied, "Well he was one of the original members of the Fangs. I think we should show him all a little bit more respect."
       "For cryin' out loud, you can't be serious! The old guy's obviously senile!" Mark exclaimed. "But you were right about one thing. We shouldn't get so worked up about these Ultima guys. We should wait and see for ourselves what they're really like."
       "I'm glad you see things that way, Mark."
       "Only thing is, if these guys are as good as the rumors say, then I really wanna beat them, you know? Now, how about some batting practice? That's what you came here for, right?"
       "Yeah. Also want to loosen up my pitching arm."
       "Sounds good."
       As Denny and Bridget resumed their own practice session, Mark walkedover to the pitcher's mound while Elena picked out a bat. Whatever kind of team the Ultimas turned out to be, she'd be ready for them.

       After a few hours of practice, Elena rushed home for dinner, and to unwind before the big match. She returned to the diamond a half-hour before the game, where her fellows were already out in the field, tossing balls around. Elena joined them, clearing her mind for the game ahead. In the meantime, the bleachers on either side of home plate slowly filled with people, and before she knew it, it was time for the big game. She turned around, adjusted her stance on the pitchers' mound, tightened her cap, and got a good look at her first victim. Walking toward the plate, bat in hand, was a well-built man with bright grey eyes. Elena's own eyes widened and she felt a lump form in her throat; it was that Turk, Garamonde. She recalled their conversation from earlier that day, and felt her cheeks flush hotly. Just what kind of game was this guy trying to play with her?
       Gritting her teeth, Elena signaled to the catcher, then wound back to unleash her first pitch. She did her best to keep focused on her task as she adjusted her fingers' placement on the ball, but even after it left her hand, her mind remained tense.

       It was the bottom of the tenth inning, the game having gone into overtime after an amazing double-play by Denny that must've been bestowed on the Fangs by the Planet itself. As there were no other runs scored for the rest of the ninth, the game remained tied at 5-5 by the end of that inning. Elena and her teammates were exhausted, but since the Ultimas had scored a run in the top of the tenth, there was no way that they could give up now. Thus, it was with two outs and runners on first and second that Elena found herself going up to bat against their star pitcher Garamonde. The pressure was on; she needed at least a double to tie the game, a triple to win it. Elena steeled herself as she walked toward home plate and took a batting stance.
       The Turk tipped his black and green ball cap and flexed his fingers. "Been watching you all evening, kid. I've gotta admit, you're pretty good."
       Elena said nothing; she just glared at him and adjusted her grip on the bat.
       "This has been one hell of a game. Glad to see you made good on your promise."
       "It's not over yet, mister. You gonna pitch already?"
       Garamonde smiled. "You're right. It isn't over. Well, here goes…"
       He pulled back and unleashed a wicked curve ball, the likes of which Elena had never seen before. Still, it came right into her sweet spot, so she swung.
       "Strike one!" yelled the umpire.
       Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Elena took a deep breath and steeled herself for the next pitch. That same curve again. With lightning precision, she adjusted her swing based on what she believed to be her mistake the last time.
       "Strike two!"
       Shit! She wanted to throw her bat down right then and there, if it weren't for the inherent knowledge that one more chance awaited her… the last one that she would have, and the one that might mean the difference between victory-- or at least an eleventh inning-- and utter, humiliating defeat.
       Garamonde stood still at the mound, his ball pressed into his glove. Elena raised her bat over her shoulder, staring at the hand that held onto the ball, the ballplayer's mantra constantly repeating in her mind: Be the ball. Be the ball.
       He pulled back, drew the ball from his glove, and unleashed it toward Elena. This time, it wasn't a curve, but a completely different pitch altogether. She had to adjust her strategy, and quickly.
       CRACK!
       The feeling of the ball resounding against the aluminum bat was music to her ears, and she carefully began her approach to first base as the ball sailed through the night sky. When this pop fly was caught by the Ultimas' center fielder, she sank to her knees.
       The game was over, and after a magnificent month-long winning streak, the Kalm Fangs had lost.

       As was the custom among the Fangs, they invited the visiting team to the local tavern after the game. The Fangs were sore at their loss, but also enthralled over how good the game had been. Since she wasn't old enough to drink, Elena always felt a little left out at these sorts of things, and as she felt the sting of this particular defeat a bit more sharply than her teammates, her alienation was even worse on this night.
       After an hour or so, she excused herself and left the bar. It was late, and the rest of the town was fairly silent. She wandered about for awhile, eventually arriving back at the baseball diamond. All of the spotlights were now extinguished, and the only thing which lit the sand beneath her feet was the full moon, languidly hanging overhead. Just then, she heard a howl, and noticed a shadow approaching her from the outfield. It was a Kalm Fang-- one of the four-legged variety-- and as it drew closer, Elena could see that it was salivating with hunger, its cruel grey eyes shining in the moonlight. She started to back away, before finding that there were two more Fangs closing in around her. She noticed a baseball near her feet and bent down to pick it up, being careful not to startle the Fangs into pouncing on top of her. She figured that, if anything, she could at least bean one before breaking out into a run.
       Suddenly, she heard a gunshot, followed by the yelping of one of the Fangs. As the other two wolves jumped back, Elena turned her head to see one of the Fangs laying in a pool of blood and Garamonde standing near one of the dugouts, a smoking pistol in one hand.
       "Don't let your guard down!" he barked.
       Elena turned back around to see that one of the Fangs had resumed its approach toward Elena. The Fang leaped at her, its teeth bared, and she dodged it just in time. She broke out into a run towards the Turk as the Fang skidded and turned around, then she stopped and threw the baseball at it. The ball landed right between the Fang's eyes, loudly cracking against its skull. As this second Fang fell, the third stared at its defeated brothers, then the two humans, before running off with its tail between its legs.
       Garamonde stared at the Fang Elena hit as she ran the rest of the way toward him. "You shouldn't be out here this time of night, kid."
       "How did you know where I was?"
       "I left the party early to take a shower at the inn. Happened to see you walk through the town gates as I came outside again."
       Elena nodded; that explained why he was now wearing his suit and tie, as opposed to his baseball uniform. "So you followed me out here?"
       "Yeah. I kind of wanted to talk to you."
       "What," Elena glowered. "Going to offer your sympathy for beating me tonight?"
       "Not at all. We Turks are definitely not sympathetic types," he smirked.
       "So what the hell do you want?"
       "Just thought you might like to know how I did that curve ball. I noticed that you were bugging out the first time I pitched it to you."
       "What?" Elena exclaimed. She had not once met any member of an opposing team who offered to teach her their pitching secrets, much less discuss them. "Why?"
       "Because you have talent, much more than you may realize. Now, the ballplayer side of me says that I'd be nuts to teach you my best pitch, but the Turk side of me believes that such talent must never be wasted. That's part of our job, you know-- to discover talented people and recruit them into the Shinra military, where they can make full use of their ability."
       Recalling their conversation from earlier that day, Elena asked, "Are you really here to scout for SOLDIER?'
       "Absolutely. I didn't lie to you. The fact that my team had a game here this weekend was just a matter of coincidence."
       "You know, that was awfully sneaky of you, hiding your identity as the Ultimas' pitcher and flattering me like that."
       "It worked, didn't it? Sure as hell caught you off guard in that first inning, when we scored three runs."
       "Damn it, you don't have to remind me!"
       Garamonde laughed. "A great ballplayer lets nothing faze him. You're good, and you certainly have the potential to be great, but you need to work harder. So, do you want me to teach you my curve or not?"

       Garamonde showed Elena how to hold the ball, and twist her wrist just right, standing behind her and holding her arm in the correct positions. With a few trial pitches, she managed to nail it.
       "Man, what a great pitch! I can really feel how powerful it is."
       "Glad you like it. Now, can you show me your slider?"
       "What?"
       He grinned. "C'mon kid. You honestly think that I would show you my best pitch without expecting something in return?"
       Elena stood on the mound, hands on hips, and stared at the sly man before him. She was going to regret this…
       "Okay. Come over here."
       As Garamonde had done with her, Elena taught the Turk her secret technique, silently cursing to herself the whole time for giving such a valuable piece of information to a rival pitcher. Garamonde tried out the slider for himself, and Elena marveled at how quickly he had picked it up.
       "You're really good," she complimented. "Certainly better than a lot of other pitchers I've come across."
       "All I can do is my best, and push myself to do better with each new game. That's sort of my philosophy on life."
       Elena came up to face him. "What's it like, being a Turk?"
       "Best damned job in the world. You see a lot of places, meet a lot of people, get your abilities shoved to the limit. It's not an easy job-- but it's very rewarding," Garamonde replied, his proud smile revealing small wrinkles by the corners of his eyes. "Listen, it's late. You should go home."
       "I guess, but I'm not tired. I'd… kind of like to talk to talk to you some more."
       "I know what you mean, but not tonight. There will be other times."
       "How about tomorrow morning?"
       Garamonde shook his head. "Sorry kid, but I'll be returning to Midgar shortly after sunrise. My work here is done." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Walk you home?"
       "Sure."
       Silently, they walked back inside the town walls, and Elena guided Garamonde through the narrow streets to her family's house.
       Garamonde shook her hand and said, "Great playing ball with you. It really was one hell of a game."
       "Yeah. Maybe we'll play again sometime."
       "Maybe. Take care, okay?"
       "You too."
       He nodded, then turned around and walked into the dark streets. After watching him go, Elena opened the door to her house and went inside.

       The rest of the season wound down with many more wins and only a handful of losses. The Kalm Fangs' victory in the final game of the year was made even sweeter by the fact that Lord Godo, the leader of Wutai, had surrendered to Shinra's forces only the day before. The war was over, and the young MPs and SOLDIERs who hailed from Kalm would be coming home soon.
       The following week, Elena's father sat down with her at the kitchen table, where they talked about her future. Elena would be turning eighteen soon, which meant that she would have to make some decisions about what she wanted to do with herself. She had helped out her father for years, repairing power tools and mining equipment, but although she liked the work, she wasn't exactly sure that she wanted to make a career out of it. Neither of them got anywhere that morning, and Elena's dad suggested that she take some time to think.
       When the mail came later that afternoon, she sorted through the bills and catalogs to come across an envelope addressed to her, with "G. Adams" marked as the sender. Her heart skipped a beat, and she ran back inside the house, tossed the rest of the mail on the kitchen table, and scrambled upstairs to her room. Fortunately, her brother was out somewhere with his friends, so he wouldn't be around to interrupt her. She lay on her bed and carefully opened the envelope, pulling out two pieces of paper. The one on top was a letter, which read as follows:

Hey Elena,
       I'm sorry I've been out of touch with you for so long, but much has been going on with my life since I came to Kalm this past summer. Unfortunately, fate has not been kind to me, as I lost part of my left leg during a skirmish in Wutai. I'll spare you all the gory details, but I just thought I'd let you know that I'm going to Junon next week for surgery, where the docs are going to give me a prosthetic leg. Shinra technology has advanced greatly since the war started, and they're telling me that I'll be able to do whatever I want with this new leg, but something tells me it won't be the same. Because of this, I thought it would be a good time to leave the Turks. The rehab's going to take years for one thing, and besides, I'm not exactly young any more. I thought it would be in the Turks' best interests if I resigned, leaving an empty spot for a newcomer to come on board. One has already been chosen-- smart as a whip, this kid-- so I'm not too worried about those guys. I'm currently talking to the chairman of Peace Preservation to see if there's a job I can do in his division which won't have the rigorous physical demands of being a Turk.
       As for my ever playing ball again, we'll have to see how the rehab goes, but I have my doubts. My arms didn't get too scratched up during the fighting, so they're in great shape, but as a fellow pitcher, you know that you have to put your whole body into your pitch. It's going to be tough, not being able to do much for awhile.
       So anyway, lately things've been shit, but what can you do? "That's life," like they say. I'm just glad I got to do all the things I have up until this point, which is more than most people. So no regrets here.
       I hope you're doing well, and that you're keeping busy. You've got talent and ambition, and I'm sure that you'll continue to build on them and achieve great things. You have your whole life ahead of you, and now that the war is over, it may be even better than those from my generation have had.
       Hope you and the other Fangs had an awesome season. I don't know if I'll be able to write to you again, but maybe someday our teams will have a rematch. If these docs end up being right about this new leg, perhaps then I can show you some real pitching!

Yours truly,
Garamonde

       Elena pulled the letter away to take a look at the second sheet of paper. It was an application for the Turk training program.

       Her father called her downstairs to dinner a few hours later. As her dad and brother sat down to eat, Elena said, "I have an announcement to make. I've given it some thought, and now I'm absolutely sure of what I want to do for a living-- and I don't want to hear any objections."
       The two males at the table exchanged glances, then her father said, "All right. What is it?"
       "I want to go to Midgar, to work for Shinra. I want to join the Turk Alliance."
       Steve nearly dropped his fork. Their father sputtered, "The Turks? Shinra's special-ops squad? You know that they're killers, right?"
       Elena bit her bottom lip and shook her head. "I don't care. It's what I want to do."
       "But how're you even going to get in?" Steve asked. "I hear that they don't accept just anyone."
       "They have a training program. I was thinking that I could apply for that, and work for another division of Shinra in the meantime… maybe one that deals with machines and technology."
       Her father sighed. "We'll talk about this later. Now, let's eat."
       Elena dug into her food, anticipating a few heated arguments with her dad in the near future, but knowing that there was nothing he could say that would change her mind. She was going to be a Turk, no matter how long it took or how hard the path was. After all, it seemed a fitting role for her, and like Garamonde had once told her, talent must never be wasted, and she had talent. Whether she could apply her technical-- and baseball-- skills to such a career remained to be seen, but damn it, she was going to try. She didn't want to look back on her life years later and wonder where the time went.
       She smiled as she thought of Garamonde, the unlikely friend she made that summer, and resolved to make herself into someone she would be proud of, even in defeat. While Garamonde's game was winding down, hers was only just beginning, and with his encouragement in her bag of tricks, she knew that she would be prepared for whatever the future had in store.