The field looked like it hadn't seen a real game in years.
Patches of dead grass. Rusted chain-link fences. A dugout with chipped paint and splinters waiting to stab anyone who leaned on it wrong.
Ryoma stood at the mound, gripping a baseball. Takumi squatted behind home plate with a catcher's mitt that looked like it had been chewed on by a dog.
"This really it?" Ryoma asked, eyeing the empty field.
Takumi sighed, popping a bubble of gum.
"This is everyone who still shows up... when they feel like it."
As if on cue, three figures wandered onto the field.
The first was tall and skinny, dragging a bat behind him like it weighed more than his body. The second looked like he belonged in a gym, not a baseball diamond—thick arms, but no coordination. The last was a short kid with glasses, already out of breath from walking across the outfield.
Takumi pointed lazily.
"That's Jiro. He played third base once. Hasn't touched a glove since middle school. The bodybuilder is Shin. He just likes swinging bats. Doesn't know the rules. And the nerd? That's Yuuto. Good at calculating pitch speed. Terrible at everything else."
Ryoma blinked.
"...This is worse than I expected."
"Yup."
A pause.
"Still wanna stay?"
Ryoma stepped on the rubber and tossed the ball once into the air.
"Yeah."
Takumi laughed. "You're crazy."
"No," Ryoma said. "I'm bored. There's a difference."
He reared back and threw.
The ball exploded through the air like a bullet, slamming into Takumi's mitt with a sharp, echoing POP that turned every head on the field.
Takumi's glove stung, but he didn't flinch.
His eyes widened slightly.
"...Damn."
Ryoma smiled faintly.
"Let's wake them up."
Elsewhere in Tokyo...
At a baseball powerhouse known across the nation, a senior student sat in front of a laptop, watching grainy footage.
A fastball. A slider. A ridiculous 12-6 curveball that dropped like a rock.
Each pitch carved through hitters like a scythe through wheat.
Miyuki Kazuya leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a grin forming on his lips.
"Well, well... what do we have here?"
The screen showed the name of the school:
Kurosaki High.
Next to it, a name he hadn't heard in a while.
Kenzaki Ryoma.
A kid who rejected Seidou.
A kid who went to a school with no team.
And a kid who just lit up a backwater match with pro-level stuff.
"Looks like the prodigy's finally getting serious," Miyuki murmured.
He reached for his phone.
"Coach... you might want to see this."
Back at Kurosaki, Ryoma stood among his "teammates," watching Jiro miss his fifth grounder in a row, Yuuto trip over his own feet, and Shin accidentally snap a bat while trying to bunt.
Takumi looked at him, waiting for the sarcasm or disappointment.
But Ryoma was smiling.
A real smile.
"Good."
Takumi blinked. "Good? This is good to you?"
"They're broken," Ryoma said.
"And that's why it's perfect."
Takumi looked at him like he was insane.
But somewhere deep down... he kind of liked it.