Chapter Text
The afternoon sun hung low over the dirt field, casting long shadows across the diamond.
The scoreboard beyond center field glared mercilessly:
Akagi Middle School: 0
Nagano East: 0
Bottom of the ninth.
Two outs.
Bases loaded.
The count was full.
Every player on the field was tense enough to shatter.
In left field, Sawamura Eijun crouched low, glove open, eyes locked on the batter.
He hated being this far away from the action.
In the stands, the few spectators who had stayed until sunset sat at the edge of their seats. Among them stood a woman in a fitted black suit and glasses, her sharp gaze fixed on the field.
Rei Takashima had come to scout a different school entirely. Then she ended up standing near the fence of an entirely different schools.
Her attention had shifted to every pitcher. There wasn't anything interesting from both teams. It was more like an elementary baseball game with how every one scramble and mess up at everything.
She stayed anyway because there was really no time to go back and find the school she's been hoping to scout.
'Eh, I was hoping to find a pitcher but I guess it's expected for countryside teams with no proper coaching to play like this. I guess I'll have to return home empty handed.'
The pitcher on the mound—one of Akagi’s inexperienced third-years—was trembling visibly. His shoulders were tight, his breath ragged.
Sawamura clenched his jaw.
Don’t overthink. Just throw.
But the pitcher did overthink.
The next pitch came in high and center.
A perfect meatball.
The batter’s eyes lit up.
CRACK!
The sound of the bat rang across the field.
The ball screamed toward left.
Sawamura reacted instantly.
His body exploded into motion, cleats tearing across the dirt as he charged forward. The ball dropped in front of him, kicking up a spray of dust as it hit the ground.
There was no time to think.
The runner from third had already ran for home.
Sawamura scooped the ball cleanly into his glove and, in one fluid motion, twisted into a strange throwing form.
His body bent awkwardly.
His arm whipped forward like a slingshot. The ball left his hand with a violent hiss.
Even Takashima Rei, widened her eyes.
That release…
The throw tore across the diamond—a laser from left field to home.
The catcher reached for it—
—but the runner slid home first.
“SAFE!”
The umpire’s call cut through the stunned silence.
Game over.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Nagano East erupted into cheers, their dugout flooding onto the field.
Akagi Middle School stood frozen.
The scoreboard changed.
Akagi Middle School: 0
Nagano East: 1
Sawamura stared at home plate.
His throw had been perfect.
Fast.
Accurate.
Too late.
He clicked his tongue and turned away.
His teammates began gathering their gear in silence. Some were already crying.
One of them dropped to his knees in the dirt.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Another wiped at his eyes. “We promised… we promised we’d go to Koshien together…”
The words cracked apart under the weight of defeat.
Sawamura looked at all of them—his childhood friends, boys he had played baseball with since they were small.
They weren’t stars.
They weren’t prodigies.
Most of them were amateurs who barely knew the fundamentals.
But they had worked hard.
They had believed.
And now they were crying as if the world had ended.
Sawamura inhaled slowly, then forced a grin.
“Hey!”
Everyone looked at him.
“It’s not like baseball ends here, idiots!”
They stared.
Sawamura slung his glove over his shoulder and laughed.
“We lost, sure. But that just means we gotta get stronger, right?”
“Eijun…”
“We’ll keep playing baseball,” he said, voice bright and loud. “And one day, we’ll stand on a bigger field than this. Koshien!”
The others sniffled.
Sawamura’s grin widened.
“So quit crying already! You look pathetic!”
A weak laugh broke through the tears.
The mood lightened—
Until a voice from the other team sneered loudly.
“Bigger field? Koshein? With that garbage team?”
The laughter that followed was sharp and mocking.
Sawamura’s teammates froze.
Another player smirked.
“Seriously, those guys are terrible. That loudmouth left fielder is the only one with half a brain.”
“Even then, what’s the point? Players like them will never make it anywhere.”
Sawamura’s hands tightened.
Then another laugh.
“I heard they promised to go to Koshien. That’s hilarious.”
The boys behind Sawamura lowered their heads in humiliation.
Then one more voice—
“Especially their 1st baseman, a girl, seriously? What was her name? Wakana Yoshikawa? And they think they can step a foot in Koshein.”
Sawamura stopped walking.
The air around him changed.
Slowly, he turned.
The grin was gone.
“What,” he said quietly, “did you just say?”
The other player smirked.
“You heard me.”
That was enough.
Sawamura stormed forward.
“Eijun!” his teammates shouted.
Too late.
SMACK
Sawamura’s palm connected with the boy’s cheek so hard his head snapped sideways.
Chaos exploded.
“YOU WANNA TALK CRAP ABOUT ME, FINE!” Sawamura shouted, eyes blazing. “BUT DON’T YOU DARE DRAG MY TEAMMATES INTO IT!”
Players rushed in to pull them apart.
“Eijun, stop!”
“Let go of me!”
“You’re the losers talking big after one lucky hit!” Sawamura roared.
Even as they restrained him, he kept straining forward, furious beyond reason.
Near the fence, Rei Takashima watched silently.
Then she smiled.
The throw had caught her attention.
But this—
This fire.
This reckless passion.
This refusal to let his teammates be insulted.
That was rarer than talent.
Her eyes drifted to the shape barely visible beneath the sleeve near Sawamura’s wrist—a faint crescent moon surrounded by stars.
A soulmate mark.
Rei adjusted her glasses.
An idea was already forming.
“A left fielder with that arm…” she murmured.
No—
A pitcher.
One that hadn’t realized his own potential yet.
And perhaps…
She let her mind wander back to Tokyo, towards the baseball field.
“This might be interesting.”