"It felt like a dream… but Monday morning came anyway."
The school bell rang with its usual cold chime.
Haruto sat by the window, chin resting on his hand, the math textbook open but untouched. The wind outside carried the faint smell of fresh grass—faintly reminding him of the game just two days ago.
Behind him, the classroom buzzed with whispers.
> "That's the guy from the baseball match, right?"
"I saw the clip on Insta! That pitch was unreal."
"Didn't they tie with Yamashita? That's wild."
He tried to ignore it… but his ears picked up every word.
---
A Small Moment
Sōta tapped his desk from behind.
"You looked like you wanted to cry after your home run."
"I didn't," Haruto muttered.
"You totally did."
Haruto smiled, just a little.
---
After School – At the Field
The makeshift practice ground was still half-covered with chalk dust and dry patches. Reina was already there, painting new bases with leftover white paint and a toothbrush.
Jun ran laps in the outfield while Takeshi practiced swings using a broken broomstick.
"Even after a tie, we're still nobodies," Takeshi said, catching his breath.
"No," Sōta said from the catcher's circle. "We're nobodies with a story. That's worse for them."
---
The Coach's Visit
Coach Inoue arrived late.
Still in his blazer. Still expressionless.
But instead of holding practice, he held up a piece of paper.
> "We've been invited."
Everyone stopped.
> "To what?" Jun asked.
> "An exhibition game. End of semester. Against Aoyama Prep's junior team."
Gasps.
Takeshi dropped his stick.
"Aoyama Prep? The private academy? That's… huge!"
Coach nodded. "They've heard the rumors. 'The miracle boys of nowhere.'"
> "Are we… ready?" Reina asked softly.
Coach Inoue paused. For once, he didn't answer.
---
Haruto and His Grandfather
That evening, Haruto returned home to a quiet room.
His grandfather sat on the veranda, sharpening garden shears, old radio playing softly.
"You tied," the old man said without looking.
"Yeah."
"Still got outs."
"Yeah."
"Still made mistakes."
"…Yeah."
Haruto sighed and sat beside him.
"But," the old man added, "You made people look at you."
Haruto turned. "Does that mean you'll come next time?"
His grandfather grunted.
"…If your curveball stops hanging like a noodle, maybe."
-------
Later that night, Haruto looked out the window again. The field was dark now. Empty.
But in his mind, he saw the bases. Heard the echo of the bat.
They weren't champions.
They weren't trained.
But they had something else.
> Fire.
And it was catching.
---
End Line:
"Some teams win trophies. Others win hearts. Only a few light a fire."