In a forgotten corner of Japan, where weeds cover the baseball field and the school gave up on sports long ago, one boy refuses to let go of his dream.



Thirteen-year-old Haruto Saito is a baseball prodigy born in the wrong place. Gifted as both pitcher and batter, his talent burns bright—but in a rural middle school with no team, no coach, and no one who believes, it’s like screaming into the void. Except… one person still listens.

Sōta Nakamura, his quiet best friend, would rather read math books than swing a bat. But when Haruto asks, he picks up a catcher’s mitt—not out of love for the game, but for the friendship they share. Together, they form a club from scratch: no equipment, no strategy, just raw heart and late-night dreams.

As they gather misfit teammates and find unexpected support in their stern math teacher—once a forgotten player himself—the boys discover that baseball isn’t just about winning championships. It’s about building something where nothing existed before. It’s about scraped knees, quiet encouragements, shared bentos, and the girl who stitches their uniforms by hand.

But the road to glory isn’t smooth. Injuries, failures, heartbreaks—and the haunting knowledge that talent might not be enough—test every ounce of their resolve. Because no one expects legends to be born in countryside classrooms.

Will their dream reach Koshien—or will they remain the team no one remembers?
A story of friendship, failure, and the field that held their youth.
⚾ The dirt may forget their footprints… but the sky never will.

"You don't wait for the world to notice you. You make it impossible to ignore."


The registration form looked... unimpressive.


Basic fields: Team Name, School, Coach, Captain.


Yet for Kamiyama's unofficial, ragtag team—it might as well have been the Olympic scroll.


Team Name: ____________________________


Sōta whispered, "We need something cool. Like 'Raging Demons.'"


Kento muttered, "Please don't let the pitcher name the team."


Haruto grinned. "What about… 'Kamiyama Sparks'?"


Tomo nodded slowly. "Yeah. From nothing to fire."


"Works for me," Reina smiled. "Let's light it up."


They brought the form to the staff room. Mr. Inoue adjusted his glasses, looked at them with his usual cold stare… and then signed.


As they left, Inoue whispered, just loud enough,


Reina looked back. He was smiling. Barely.


"Minamino Middle School," Tomo said. "They were regional runners-up last year."


"They've got real uniforms," Sōta added. "And a team bus."


"We have… sweatbands?" Haruto offered.


The locker room was quiet. Not with fear—but a pressure none of them had felt before.


With umpires. Rules. Spectators. Stakes.


For two weeks, they trained like their lives depended on it.


💥 Sōta's batting improved—finally hitting inside the fence.


💥 Kento learned to slide without spraining both ankles.


💥 Riku built a fake pitching mound out of old tires.


💥 And Haruto—Haruto became a storm. Fastball, slider, change-up—relentless.


Even Mr. Inoue started showing up early. Silently setting cones. Whispering tips. Then walking away.


They gathered under the lights behind the school gym. No bats. No balls. Just nerves.


"We're not polished," Reina said. "We're not perfect."


"But we're ours," Haruto said. "This team—we built it from dirt and dreams."


Sōta raised a fist. "One game. Let's make them remember us."


Their field was still rough. Their uniforms mismatched. Their dugout made of crates.


As the visiting team rolled up in clean jerseys and perfect shoes, Haruto walked to the mound.


Chapter 11 - Chapter 10: One Game to Be Seen