The provincial semi-final match came faster than expected. Maybe it was the pressure, or the lack of time to recover emotionally, but the locker room before the game felt different. Not tense—resigned.
No one said it out loud, but they all felt it: this might be the last game they'd play together.
The opponents were Kawasemi West, a team with sharp uniforms, steel cleats, and a full bench. They had a real manager, a real budget, and a real scouting presence in the stands. Among them, sitting alone in the third row, was Rin Katsuragi, Meiwa High's junior scout, notebook in hand.
Haruto saw him during warm-ups. A subtle nod passed between them. It meant nothing. It meant everything.
Their coach hadn't come. Still under orders. Still "uninvolved."
So once again, they were on their own.
The field shimmered slightly under the afternoon sun, and the stands had filled more than ever before. Families, villagers, students. Reina had helped organize a group from Furukawa town to come cheer. They held hand-drawn banners. One read:
> "Miracle Nine."
Haruto took the mound for what might be the final time as a middle school pitcher. His shoulder wasn't perfect. His control was slipping in places. But no one else could take the ball. And he wanted this one.
Badly.
The first batter of the game—strikeout. Confidence.
Second—groundout.
Third—line drive, caught by Jun in right field. He shouted back, "Let's go, baby!"
Their dugout roared.
Bottom of the 1st.
Takeshi stepped in. First pitch—foul. Second—strike. Third—crack. It bounced past the shortstop. Single.
Next batter: Ayumu.
He tried to bunt again—popped it straight into the air. Out.
Jun followed up with a strikeout.
Haruto's turn.
He stared at the pitcher. Saw the smirk. A fastball came inside—he barely dodged it.
The second pitch was fat.
He swung.
Crack.
It flew high.
High…
Too high.
Caught.
Out.
End of first inning.
But the spark was there.
By the 4th inning, both teams were locked at 0–0. Each pitch was tighter. Each step on the base paths heavier. Haruto pitched like he was holding his breath the entire time. His curveball was back. Sōta was catching again with more confidence—after hours of late-night practice they hadn't told Reina about.
In the 5th, it happened.
The Kawasemi batter read the fastball perfectly. A deep drive to left field.
Jun sprinted.
Jumped.
Caught.
Everyone erupted. The dugout, the stands, Reina's hands trembling with her clipboard. The Miracle Nine held the line.
Bottom of the 6th.
Jun hit a blooper that fell into shallow center.
Takeshi followed with a surprise bunt—safe.
Runners on first and second.
No outs.
They looked at each other.
Ayumu signaled. It was the broken play they'd practiced once, behind the gym.
He fake bunted. Pulled back.
Jun stole third.
Throw went wild.
He slid in.
Safe.
Crowd cheered.
Now—just one out later, Haruto came up again.
He breathed deeply.
Fastball low.
He let it go.
Second pitch.
Curveball.
He swung.
It bounced between second and third.
Takeshi ran.
Safe.
Jun scored.
1–0.
The crowd stood.
It felt surreal.
They were leading.
Top of the 7th.
Last inning.
Three outs to history.
Haruto took the mound again.
The first batter—walk.
Second—strikeout.
Third—grounder. Takeshi bobbled it—threw to second. Out.
Two outs.
One runner on first.
Haruto exhaled. Looked up.
Rin was watching.
He threw his best pitch.
Crack.
The ball sailed toward left field.
Jun backed up.
Ran.
Ran faster.
He looked up.
It was high.
Too high?
He held his glove out.
The ball came down…
And hit the edge of his glove.
Dropped.
Gasps in the stands.
Runner rounded.
One scored.
1–1.
Jun sank to his knees.
Haruto closed his eyes.
But there was no time to dwell.
Next pitch—batter connected.
Another drive to right.
Ayumu sprinted, diving—
Caught.
Out.
But it was tied.
Bottom of the 7th.
Haruto sat on the bench, staring into his hands. Sōta sat next to him.
"We still have a chance," he said.
But it was shaky now.
They tried.
Ayumu grounded out.
Reina bit her lip, hiding her face behind her clipboard.
Takeshi struck out on a high fastball.
Jun walked.
Last chance.
Haruto stepped in.
The crowd held its breath.
He watched the pitcher.
Pitch one—strike.
Pitch two—ball.
Pitch three—he swung.
Foul.
Pitch four.
He swung hard.
The sound wasn't right.
Pop-up.
Third baseman moved under it.
Caught.
Out.
Game over.
1–1 tie, but due to tournament rules, Kawasemi advanced by point differential.
Silence.
No tears.
Not at first.
Just stunned stillness.
Jun didn't move.
Takeshi removed his helmet slowly.
Haruto looked up at the sky.
Reina's voice cracked as she whispered, "They did everything they could."
The team lined up for handshakes. Kawasemi's players were respectful—complimenting Haruto's pitch, Takeshi's hustle, Jun's arm.
Rin closed his notebook.
Walked down the bleachers.
Stopped by the dugout.
He didn't speak.
Just passed an envelope to Reina.
Inside were two letters.
> "Summer Invite – Meiwa High Tryout"
One for Haruto Fujiwara.
One for Sōta Mizuno.
Reina didn't show them to the boys immediately.
Instead, she watched as Haruto sat on the bench, staring out at the field he had given his everything to.
"I'm proud of you," she whispered.
He didn't reply.
But something in his shoulders relaxed.
For now, the dream was over.
But just maybe…
It was only changing shape.
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