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.

"When the sky pauses, hearts speak louder."


Thick, heavy drops pounded the school grounds just as the team arrived at the field. Haruto stood at the gate, hoodie soaked, staring at the puddle where second base used to be.


"No practice today," Mr. Inoue called out from beneath a black umbrella, his voice unusually soft.


He just looked up at the grey sky… and walked away.


"Or," Reina suggested, "we could do what every true athlete does during a crisis."


Aoi tilted her head. "Watch motivational videos?"


Sōta raised both arms. "Approved. Let's carbo-load our sorrows away."


The old ramen shop near the station was small, steam-filled, and smelled like heaven.


The whole team squeezed into the corner booth. Their wet jackets hung on shaky hooks, and bowls clinked as they arrived one by one—miso, tonkotsu, spicy chicken, and one ridiculously oversized bowl that belonged to Riku.


Haruto slurped and sighed. "We should rain out more often."


Tomo, ankle still taped, raised a dumpling like a toast. "To the rain gods."


"I hate math," Kento confessed. "But I like Inoue-sensei now. Weird, right?"


"He's secretly proud of us," Reina said. "I think."


Riku grinned. "He's still terrifying. I caught him watching us from the science lab last week with opera music playing."


Then Sōta turned to Haruto. "Why do you care so much about baseball?"


Haruto paused. "Because it's mine. I'm not good at grades. I'm not from a rich family. But baseball? It makes sense. It feels like… my language."


Reina nudged him with her elbow. "It suits you."


Later, as the team dispersed, Reina walked beside Haruto under her umbrella.


"You really love the game," she said quietly.


She smiled, looking up at the cloudy sky.


"I used to play to prove something. Now I play because I like hearing you say things like 'keep your elbow in.'"


He blinked. "That's… oddly specific."


"Shut up," she said, giggling. "It's nice."


> "Today's lesson: Rain can't stop ramen, or friendship."


That night, Haruto sat by his window, flipping a baseball in his hand.


Inside, the fire had only just started.


Chapter 8 - Chapter 8: Rain Delay, Ramen Nights