At the Meiji Jingu Baseball Stadium, the roar of the crowd was deafening.
In the commentary booth sat one man and two women.
Takashi didn't recognize the man, but he did recognize one of the women.
"Isn't that Hoshino Ai? I remember she's an idol. Why is she here?"
As Takashi spoke, the camera panned upward to the cheerleading squad from Shuchiin.
They were fairly cute, but unfortunately, one of them had bow legs and was wearing safety shorts—automatic downvote.
Hitomi clearly had no interest in the baseball game. She crossed her legs and played on her phone.
"She was invited to throw the opening pitch."
"But this is just a regional qualifier, right? Is that really necessary?"
Takashi knew that baseball games sometimes had celebrities throw the opening pitch.
For example, actresses like Ishihara Satomi, Hamabe Minami, Hashimoto Kanna, and Shiraishi Mai had all done it before.
But that kind of treatment was usually reserved for the Koshien finals or pro league games.
They hadn't even made it to Koshien yet.
"It's not necessary, but this match is between Aoba and Shuchiin, after all."
"So? What difference does that make?"
"Who do you think the people watching today's game are?"
"Spectators?"
Hitomi turned to look at him.
Takashi stared right back into those completely unguarded eyes of hers.
After a moment of staring at each other, Hitomi couldn't help but laugh.
"Shuchiin and Aoba are both elite private schools.
A lot of parents came to watch today. If she shows her face here and happens to catch the eye of some CEO, she might just become the next breakout star."
Takashi sighed. "Being a celebrity sure isn't easy."
Outside of one's parents, no one gives anything for free in this world.
If you want to gain something, you have to give something up.
And as for what exactly gets given—well, those who know, know.
It's not just female celebrities either—male celebrities aren't spared from it.
In this kind of situation, no one speaks with more authority than Johnny's Entertainment.
When their eyes returned to the field, Takashi suddenly stood up from his chair.
Hitomi: "?"
"You bastards trying to kill someone?!"
"I already said it wasn't on purpose! What more do you want?!"
"First you aim at his legs, then at his head, and every time you say it's not on purpose. You're really quite innocent, aren't you?!"
...
With the intervention of the umpire and security personnel, Aoba and Shuchiin were finally separated—barely.
The two teams were still hurling insults at each other from a distance.
Takashi and Tanaka Kota rushed onto the field one after the other, running to the side of Otani Shota, whose face was covered in blood.
"Shota! Are you okay?!"
Otani Shota clutched his head where the baseball had hit him. His expression was twisted in pain as he writhed on the ground.
"Those pieces of trash! Can't take a loss so they resort to beaning people?!"
Tanaka Kota and Otani Shota had been best friends since elementary school.
Seeing his friend injured like this, Kota flew into a rage and immediately charged toward the pitcher from Shuchiin.
Takashi didn't follow. Instead, he helped the medical team lift Otani Shota onto a stretcher to be rushed to the hospital.
Outside the hospital room, Takashi sat silently in a chair outside the operating room.
Hitomi handed him a tablet, her voice calm: "That pitch was aimed right at his head."
Takashi turned his eyes toward the screen.
The video broke down the pitch frame by frame, clearly showing the trajectory—and the malice in the Shuchiin pitcher's eyes.
Hitomi looked at Takashi. "What are you planning to do?"
"I'll wait for Shota to wake up first."
The usual jester mask had vanished from Takashi's face. His eyes were as still and cold as the surface of a windless sea.
Calm seas often signal the coming of a storm.
"What are you planning to do?"
Though it sounded like she was repeating herself, Takashi understood the meaning behind her words.
She was asking what he was thinking right now.
Takashi turned to look her straight in the eyes, and said with firm resolve: "I'm going to ruin him."
Their eyes met. Takashi's gaze was quiet and cold, like a blade hidden in the dark.
"Good. I'll help you."
Hitomi beamed with satisfaction as she looked at Takashi.
This was the Takashi she liked.
She liked that ruthless streak hidden beneath his gentle exterior.
But Takashi shook his head. "No need."
Hitomi frowned. "There's no need to be polite between us."
"It's not about politeness. This is something I have to do myself."
Takashi knew that for Hitomi, dealing with that guy would be as easy as lifting a finger—but he was determined to handle it personally.
"I might need your help afterward."
Hitomi smiled brightly, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So what's your plan?"
"You never really know how much something hurts until the knife's in your own flesh."
Takashi stared straight ahead—even though there was nothing there.
"Shota suffered. It'll only be fair if he experiences it too."
A white ceiling. A bright but soft overhead light.
The sterile scent of disinfectant in the air.
"Where... am I?"
Otani Shota blinked several times before he slowly regained consciousness.
"The hospital."
He turned his head and saw Takashi sitting on a bench, reading a book.
"What are you reading?"
He asked instinctively.
*"Sternstunden der Menschheit: Fourteen Historical Miniatures," by Austrian author Stefan Zweig."
Takashi closed the book and picked up an apple from the fruit basket.
"Oh, I feel like I forgot something…"
Otani reached up to scratch his head, but when his hand touched the bandages, he froze briefly. Then, urgently, he asked, "Did we win or lose?"
"We won."
"Thank god... thank god…"
Otani watched as Takashi peeled the apple. He had no appetite and turned it down. "I'm not eating that."
"I am."
Takashi took a bite right in front of him, crunching down a perfect crescent that could be a logo.
"...If we're talking about being a damn dog, you really take the cake."
Otani looked helplessly at Takashi munching on his apple.
"How long do I have to stay here?"
"You won't be making it to this year's Koshien."
"...Really?"
Otani's eyes instantly lost their light.
For a moment, the hospital room was filled only with the crisp crunching of Takashi biting into the apple.
"Takashi, I really love baseball."
"I know."
"There are over a hundred people in the baseball club. I was the only freshman to make the starting lineup."
"I know."
"To set foot on the Hanshin Koshien field, I gave up every bit of social life, swung the bat until I puked."
"I know."
"Every summer when the rest of my family went on vacation, do you know how jealous I was? I wanted to go too."
"I know."
"I don't have great explosive power, nor excellent dynamic vision. I don't even have much natural talent. I gave up everything just to stand on the Koshien field."
"One step. Just one more step and I could've reached my dream."
"And now everything I've worked for—gone."
As if venting all his pent-up emotions, Otani began pounding the hospital bed with clenched fists, angry and desperate.
Each punch was the cry of a boy unwilling to accept a senseless ending.
"Why did this happen to me?!"
"What the hell did I do wrong?!"
Takashi didn't stop Otani as he cried and shouted like a madman.
He completely understood how Otani felt.
To give everything you had and still fail—that was enough to break a person.
Only after exhausting himself did Otani finally calm down, his eyes blank as he stared at the ceiling. "The third-years will graduate next year."
"They gave up their exam prep for this year's Koshien."
"This was our best shot at the championship—and now it's all gone."
Takashi finished the apple and tossed the core into the trash before going back to his book.
"The championship will stay with Aoba. No one's taking it from us."
Otani turned his head and stared quietly at him.
"The road you couldn't finish—I'll walk it for you."
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