Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Golden Sun Never Gets Taken Away
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"Hoo, haa..."
"...Hoo, hup."
How long had we been trading blows?
In the end, neither of us could claim superiority.
Takahina Ryuji or I—we stood there panting, locked in a standoff. But everyone knew the truth. Neither of us had the energy left to keep fighting.
"Haha, Geum Seong-muk. How the hell are you so strong...?"
"That's my line, you punk."
"I can't be weak. I'm the son of a yakuza family, after all."
"...Fair point."
As we stared at each other in silence,
"Pfft...!!"
"Puhaha...!"
We burst out laughing.
The grueling fight had ended without a victor, and without a word, we both collapsed onto the ground. No major injuries, but the intense battle had left our legs like jelly.
"Feels refreshing, thanks to you. Appreciate it, Geum Seong-muk."
"Yeah? If you're grateful, join the baseball team."
"Ah, well..."
Takahina Ryuji's face turned serious again. Without waiting for his response, I slapped the dirt off my legs and stood up.
"I'm beat. Can't do more today. Tomorrow, 5 p.m., On-yu Riverside Road. If you wanna see me, come there."
I'd thrown out an appointment on the spot and rose to leave. He stared at me with wide eyes, his face screaming, What kind of guy is this?
"Hey, hold up. Why the hell would I go outta my way to see you...?"
"Not forcing you. Come or don't—your call."
You can't strong-arm a guy like him. Raised under constant pressure from power and force his whole life, he'd just rebel if I pushed too hard. Better to take it slow, chip away gradually.
"...Hmm."
I left him sitting there, pondering on the ground, and exited the abandoned factory. Damn, my legs hurt.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "You came."
"Yeah."
Takahina Ryuji showed up right on time at the On-yu Riverside Road, just as I'd suggested. He scratched his head with a displeased look, like he resented playing along with my tune.
"So, what'd you call me out for?"
"Let's start with a light jog."
"What...?"
He hadn't expected me to suggest running after asking why I'd summoned him. His eyes widened in surprise, suspicion flickering as if wondering what my angle was. Then he nodded slowly.
"Fine, not a big deal. Guess I'll play along for now."
That first day, we did some light exercise together.
No small talk, no chit-chat.
Especially not a word about baseball.
"Tomorrow, 5 p.m. Show if you wanna."
I just let him know when we'd meet next.
He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and gave me an ambiguous look.
"Sure, I'll think about it~"
Takahina Ryuji waved casually as he walked off.
He'd answered half-heartedly, like he had no intention of showing. But...
"...Hey, what's up."
The next day, he appeared at the same spot.
And the day after that, too.
"You already finished yours? Lend me some water."
"Here."
"Oh, thanks!"
During a break from our run, he borrowed my water. Meeting at this time every day to jog along the riverside had become our routine.
Even as we saw each other daily, I never brought up baseball. It must've gotten to him, because mid-run, he threw out a question.
"Hey, Geum Seong-muk. Why do you play baseball?"
"........."
Of all things, he asks that.
I gathered my thoughts for a moment before answering.
"To stay alive."
"Huh...?"
He made a bizarre face, like he'd never heard that one before.
"Something was wrong with my body, so I had to put baseball down. Felt like I was dying. Everything was pointless, my life felt worthless."
"...I see."
Takahina Ryuji looked lost in thought.
It was a bit ambiguous. Back then, picking up baseball again let me feel alive. Now, it's literally because I don't want to die.
Lately, I haven't felt that lethargy at all.
The apathy that plagued me after retirement vanished once I possessed Geum Seong-muk. Even in this insane situation where my life was constantly at risk, just playing baseball with a healthy body gave me strength.
"So, what's your goal?"
"Win the summer tournament."
"...!?"
The summer tournament—what I'd called it so far—had its own name in this world.
...Sejong Championship Summer Tournament.
The Sejong Tournament, or Sejong Championship.
Though English notation was used more for globalization, it was a tournament personally created by King Sejong, the great king who invented baseball. Its history spanned over 600 years.
It's said the famous anecdote about Joseon's cleanup hitter Yi Sun-sin—that he was appointed as the Three Provinces Naval Commander and Cleanup Hitter based on his performance in the Sejong Championship—is well-known. The system's "national tournament victory" referred exactly to this. The spring tournament beforehand was just regional qualifiers to select the 64 schools advancing to the Sejong Championship.
The ultimate stage where high school baseball players clashed with their honed dreams and skills. Even in Korea, the mecca of baseball, it featured only the brightest stars, drawing the world's eyes. Winning it was harder than reaching the stars.
Maybe that's why Ryuji didn't take my words seriously. He grinned and patted my shoulder.
"Whoa, good joke. You've got a sense of humor."
"You think it's a joke?"
"...?"
His smile vanished.
"You're serious...?"
"Yeah, dead serious."
"........."
He bit his lip hard and looked away.
After that, we just ran.
In complete silence, without a word.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ King Sejong the Great, renowned worldwide for developing baseball. His presence was especially massive in East Asia.
"Dad, I wanna win the Sejong Championship!"
He'd inspired even a young Takahina Ryuji, just starting baseball, to dream big. Takahina Ryuken smiled warmly at his son.
"Haha, accomplishing what even your old man couldn't. You'll be a greater player than me someday."
His father, a star player thriving in baseball powerhouse Korea, was always Ryuji's beacon.
But the happy times didn't last.
It happened when he returned to Japan briefly on vacation.
"You bastard, you must be from the Muyoung Society...!"
Stab!
Just for being the yakuza boss's son, he was deeply stabbed in the shoulder by an enemy gang member. He barely escaped to the hospital, but the doctor shook his head gravely.
"Daily life should be fine, but your playing days are over..."
He'd chosen the life of a baseball player to escape his bloodline's curse, only for cruel fate to drag him back as a yakuza.
Crack...!!
To suppress his violent blood, he swept through enemy gangs relentlessly. In his hands was always a black baseball bat. Even pro knife-wielders scattered like leaves in the wind before his swings.
Ryuken, smashing enemy skulls instead of baseballs, wiped the blood off and declared to Ryuji.
"Ryuji, forget making baseball your career. Your hot blood can't be contained by anything else."
".............."
His father had changed.
The man who'd been his son's sturdy guide as a baseball player was gone.
Ryuji resisted at first, but one sentence silenced him.
"If you won't inherit it, the organization goes to Noa."
"...!!"
Noa, the bubbly girl who made everyone smile.
He couldn't let his precious little sister drown in that deep darkness. From then on, Ryuji decided to abandon baseball.
That was supposed to be it.
...Damn, why does that make my heart race?
Geum Seong-muk's words about winning the Sejong Championship.
That absurd declaration set Ryuji's heart pounding.
But he couldn't join that dream.
Not if it meant Noa taking his place.
If he suppressed his own dream, his sister could live happily doing what she loved. His head knew that, but his heart wouldn't settle.
...Maybe talk to him again today.
Once spring tournament started, they wouldn't meet often. Maybe chatting with Geum Seong-muk would sort out his tangled feelings.
But Ryuji had made a big mistake.
He, who usually slipped in and out like a ghost, evading violent circles.
By fixing meetings with Geum Seong-muk and exposing himself in the same spot too long, word got out. It hit the radar of the circles stalking him.
He didn't even notice the thugs creeping up with bats—something he'd normally spot.
His eyes must've blurred from that forgotten dream.
"Found you, bastard."
Thwack!!
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "This punk, why hasn't he shown when it's time?"
Time to meet had passed, but no sign of him. No phone number to call, and even if there was, would this guy—who ignored his own sister's texts—reply?
"Huh, wait..."
Something odd on the dirt ground.
Dark red splatters.
I knew exactly what it was.
"Blood...!?"
Fresh, too—not long spilled.
Bloodstains at our meetup spot, Ryuji nowhere in sight. I pieced it together instantly. And I was furious.
"Those bastards...!!"
He was almost mine.
And they dare steal from me?
Crack!
I rolled my neck and started walking in the direction the blood trail led.
Golden Sun takes, but never gets taken.
Anyone defying that rule gets thoroughly punished.
"...I'll slaughter them all."
Someone might say,
A baseball player brawling? Leave it to the cops.
They don't get it. This is the true essence of a baseball player.
What I'm about to do is just bench-clearing training—nothing more.
Beanball retaliation with a preemptive punch if vibes are off, slap the opponent's ear to mess their control, dust their eyes and sneak a groin kick while the ump's not looking, etc.
Skills like these don't come overnight. Only real combat experience forges a true baseball player.
So, I set off for "training."
Oh, and to rescue my precious third baseman while I'm at it.