Written by: Temisan Ekperigin
Like many people, I used my spare time during the pandemic to catch up on my backlog of anime. Over the course of a year, watching 26 episodes a day made most shows blend into one another. However, this was when my love of baseball blossomed, and one show in particular, Ace of the Diamond (or Daiya) by Terajima Yuji, took the hyper-fixation crown. If you saw my “temisan’s faves” post on the LRR Instagram, then you know that this series holds a special place in my heart due to the main characters: a pitcher named Sawamura Eijun, and his catcher, Miyuki Kazuya.
I started Daiya in March of 2021. I sped through 178 episodes by the beginning of June, but I was so attached to the show that it took me three weeks to watch the final episode and a half. When I finally finished it, there was a weight that lifted from my shoulders — but then settled into my stomach. Not even one week after finishing Daiya, I missed it desperately.
During this time, my autism made it so that, every time I opened my mouth, something about Sawamura or Miyuki would come out. To be kind to my friends, I created a second Instagram account to talk Daiya instead of talking to them. At first, I churned out multiple posts a day, waxing poetic about the art, the characters, and the impact it had on me. Did you know Instagram captions had a character limit? I found out! After day four of what I dubbed the “Daily Daiya Brainrot”, it took a sharp turn.
Every post became more melancholic and I couldn’t figure out why. I started the account to give myself a creative outlet, not realizing that my creativity was tied to my emotional state. If I was angry, so were the Daiya characters I analyzed. If I missed my boyfriend, the characters felt that longing too. Between convincing myself I would be alright, picking Daiya’s underwhelming ending apart, and debating whether seeing a romantic bond between Miyuki and Sawamura was problematic, the account evolved into a digital journal. My hyper-fixations always start with a high that inevitably leads to a crash.
That emotional low forced me to log off for a bit. When I came back, I allowed my friends to follow the account — including my closest friend whom I met through online Daiya spaces. Spilling my heart out to my closest confidants felt a little better than shouting into the void. Scrolling through my page, I saw tapestry woven with potential tattoo ideas, conversations between me and other Daiya fans, and my favorite manga panels. I remember how carefully I paired songs and posts, how diligently I practiced my Japanese, and how grateful I was to have kept so many screenshots of my original reactions when I first watched it over five years ago. I have some gems on that account.
Sure, I started it when my obsession was at its height. And like everything in my life, my infatuation waxes and wanes. In April of 2026, a new season of Daiya is coming out! Fan spaces are buzzing again, so I might resurrect the account. This time around, I have actual goals! Using Daiya as an envoy, I want to improve my character analysis by separating my emotions from the characters. I also want to work on the metaphorical and literary aspects of storytelling.
I’m going to pace myself now. My love for Daiya will burn continuously like an ember rather than a raging blaze.
Featured Image Caption: In this edited manga panel, Sawamura lifts Miyuki up by his shirt and tells him to get out of his head. Miyuki laughs and refuses. I am Sawamura and Sawamura is me.
