The field was dry. The team was tired. But no one left.
It had been three days since Haruto accidentally threw the "Miracle Curve." He hadn't managed to replicate it perfectly yet—but the idea of it had lit a spark in everyone.
And that spark… kept them going.
---
"Alright!" Haruto shouted, standing near the pitcher's mound—which was actually just a dented patch of dirt surrounded by stones.
"Let's play a practice match!"
Sōta raised his hand. "Against who?"
Haruto blinked. "Uh…"
The team looked around. There were seven of them.
"Two infielders, one outfielder, a catcher, a pitcher, and… benchwarmer," Reina announced while munching on pocky. "We're still one short for even two mini-teams."
Daichi pushed up his glasses. "We could rotate. Pitcher vs batter. Everyone bats once per inning."
"That's not how real baseball works!" shouted Renji, their speedster and part-time prankster.
Haruto shrugged. "We're not a real team yet either."
Everyone chuckled. Even Sōta smiled.
---
Practice began.
No bases. Just chalk lines they drew with leftover school lab powder.
No scoreboard. Reina yelled the score while waving her notebook.
No umpire. Arguments settled by rock-paper-scissors.
But somehow… they played. And they loved it.
---
Later that evening…
The sun dipped low, turning the sky soft orange. Sweat dripped down Haruto's neck as he leaned over his knees, panting. His shirt was stained, and his shoes were caked in dirt.
"That... was a mess," he laughed.
Renji flopped beside him. "We still don't even know all the rules."
"I think I ran to third base twice," Daichi added, sipping from his water bottle. "Before touching first."
Sōta just sat, quietly tossing the ball into his glove.
Reina stood behind them, notebook in hand.
"You guys may be clueless," she said, "but you're starting to look like a team."
Haruto looked up. "Even without a coach?"
"Especially without one," she said. "No one's telling you what to do. And you still chose to stay."
A breeze passed.
Sōta finally spoke. "That's because we believe in each other."
---
Later That Night…
Mr. Inoue sat in the empty teacher's lounge, grading math papers. He paused, then looked out the window toward the far-off practice field, now dark.
He muttered under his breath, "They still can't hit a curveball to save their lives…"
Then, with a small smile, he jotted something into his own old leather notebook:
> Buy chalk. Get second glove. Ask old coach friend for scorekeeping sheets.
---
Chapter End Quote:
"Before they learned the rules, they learned each other. That was enough to start."