The sun had already started to set by the time the team made their way back to the locker room. The energy in the air was electric, but beneath the excitement, there was a palpable sense of relief. Their first official match had been a success. They had won.
But for Ryoma, the victory felt quieter than he expected.
As the team filed into the locker room, their laughter and cheers echoing off the walls, Ryoma lingered behind, his mind not on the celebration, but on the game itself. The errors, the close calls, the moments when they could've easily lost. He wasn't sure if he should feel proud or just... exhausted.
Takumi, as usual, was leaning against the locker, a cigarette tucked between his fingers. His eyes flickered over to Ryoma, sensing the tension in his posture.
"Hey," Takumi called out, his voice casual, but with an edge of understanding. "You're not still thinking about the match, are you?"
Ryoma didn't look at him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake the weight of his thoughts. "I should've done more. We barely made it."
Takumi snorted. "Barely? You gave them a chance. Without you, they wouldn't even have made it to the final inning."
Ryoma didn't respond, but Takumi continued.
"Look," Takumi said, pushing off the locker and walking toward Ryoma. "This is just one match. You're not going to fix everything in one game. They made mistakes, sure, but they fought. That's what matters. And they've got your back. All you have to do is keep leading them."
"I know," Ryoma murmured, his gaze fixed on the floor. "It's just... I don't know if I'm ready. I'm still figuring this out."
"None of us are ready. That's the point. But we're here, and we're doing it." Takumi's voice softened. "You're not alone in this, Ryoma. You've got a team. And that team trusts you."
Outside the locker room, the team was still buzzing with excitement. Shin was grinning from ear to ear, his face flushed with the joy of a game well-played. Yuuto, though quiet as usual, was smiling, a hint of pride in his posture as he swapped high-fives with Jiro.
"We did it, huh?" Jiro said, his usual awkwardness replaced by a genuine smile. "That was... that was crazy."
"Yeah," Yuuto agreed, his voice more confident than it had been in weeks. "But we couldn't have done it without Ryoma. He pushed us through when we needed it most."
Shin nodded, looking over to where Ryoma stood at the doorway. "That's true. He kept us from falling apart when we were all freaking out."
Ryoma didn't join in the conversation immediately. Instead, he stood off to the side, observing his team. They were still wearing their uniforms, but the tiredness in their eyes was now replaced with something else—something he hadn't seen much of before: belief.
The door opened, and Coach Tsukishima stepped in, a rare smile on his face.
"Great game, team," Coach said, his voice uncharacteristically warm. "You played with heart. But this is just the beginning. Don't get too comfortable."
The team laughed at his usual sternness, but there was no denying it: the coach's words felt different now. They weren't just words of reprimand. They felt like a challenge.
"You've shown me something today," Coach continued, looking directly at Ryoma. "And I'm proud of how you led the team. But remember, leadership isn't just about making the right moves on the field. It's about knowing when to let go and trust the others."
Ryoma met Coach's gaze, his mind racing. Trust. It was a word he had heard over and over in the past few days, but it had never quite hit home until now.
"Next match is in two weeks," Coach Tsukishima said, moving toward the door. "We've got a lot of work to do. Don't let this victory get to your heads."
Later that night, after the locker room had cleared out, Ryoma sat alone in the empty field. The lights above flickered, casting long shadows across the diamond. The sound of the night wind rustling the grass was the only noise. Ryoma's thoughts were loud, his mind still replaying the game, the team's mistakes, and the moments that could've gone better.
It was in these moments, when everything was still and quiet, that Ryoma felt the weight of his role more than ever. He wasn't just a player. He was a leader now.
And yet... the responsibility felt so much heavier than he expected.
"Guess I'll be stuck out here, thinking too much, huh?"
Ryoma turned to find Takumi standing at the edge of the field, a familiar smirk on his face. Ryoma didn't answer. Instead, he just nodded, gesturing for Takumi to sit beside him.
For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Takumi eventually broke the silence.
"Sometimes I wonder if you ever really take a break," Takumi said, his tone still light. "You're always thinking, always worrying."
Ryoma didn't have an answer for that. He just watched the horizon, where the sky was slowly darkening.
"You know," Takumi continued, "You're not going to get everything right. But the team... they trust you. And you'll figure it out. We all will."
Ryoma let the silence settle between them, but his heart felt a little lighter. Maybe Takumi was right. Maybe leadership didn't mean having all the answers. Maybe it was about being there when it counted.
And with that thought, Ryoma stood up, pushing himself to his feet.
"You're right," he said, his voice steadier now. "We'll figure it out."
The next day, as the team gathered for their usual practice, Ryoma's attitude had shifted. He wasn't just focusing on what hadn't worked in the match. He was thinking about the future, about the next steps in their journey.
The team was still growing, still learning, but now they were more united than before. And for the first time, Ryoma believed in their potential—not just as players, but as a team.
It was only the beginning.