Sudden Victory Declaration!!
Crack!!
Thwack!!
“Whoa…”
“Insane…”
A heavy, resounding crack echoed through the stadium over and over. Hancheong High, Munhyeok High's semifinal opponent, was deep into their practice session.
“Okay, Taeje, last one.”
“Yep.”
Hancheong High's cleanup hitter, the monster Park Taeje.
As he swung the bat, a gunshot-like crack ripped through the air, evoking the roar of battlefield artillery.
Thwaaack—!!
Crack!!
Batting practice balls soared enormous distances, clearing the outfield fence with ease. Any pitcher watching wouldn't help but feel a chill down their spine.
“Park Taeje lives up to the hype…”
“…There's a reason he's locked down that national team cleanup spot.”
“Good. Next up, Carlos.”
“Yep!”
The dark-skinned batter stepped into the cage, unleashing another barrage of explosive cracks as balls flew off the bat. The watching reporters let out waves of admiration.
“The guy who shattered Hancheong High's pure-blood policy…!”
“Amazing. Isn't he the fixed cleanup for the U.S. youth national team?”
Carlos Wisdom.
Born in America, he'd admired the strength of Korean baseball and come to study abroad at a young age. He'd faced some isolation at first due to being Black, but his overwhelming talent had integrated him into the team, bringing him this far.
“Nice batting, Carlos.”
“Ooh, Hyeok-su. Wrap it up strong.”
Carlos high-fived Choi Hyeok-su, the next batter entering the cage. Choi Hyeok-su was no slouch either—a monster hitter in his own right.
“Ooh, precision machine Choi Hyeok-su…!”
“The genius whose entire strike zone is a hot zone!!”
Crack!
Thwack!
Choi Hyeok-su's hits scattered to every corner of the field. Left, center, right—no direction was off-limits; the balls went exactly where he wanted.
He was a nationwide hitter with extreme bat control, able to turn any pitch into a hit.
The sports reporter, awestruck by the overwhelming display, blurted out a word he really shouldn't have.
“The one and only Parkkas Trio…! Mmph!?”
“Hey! Don't say that word! You could get banned from Hancheong High coverage!”
“Whaaat!?”
Taking the first syllables—Park from Park Taeje, Ka from Carlos, Su from Choi Hyeok-su—plenty of people called Hancheong High's cleanup the Parkkas Trio. Reporters cited it too, but for some reason, every one who'd done so had been blacklisted from covering the school.
“All three hate that nickname. Probably because it rolls off the tongue too easily, but the vibe is kinda off.”
“Ahh…”
What's wrong with Parkkas? the reporter thought, but if they hated it, what could you do? Getting banned from covering a powerhouse like Hancheong High was a huge loss, so he zipped his lips.
BOOM—!!
Then it happened.
A thunderclap-like mitt pop.
The reporters swarmed toward the sound.
BOOM!!
Hancheong High's ace, Ryu Han-ul, was throwing in the bullpen. Even his casual tosses clocked late 150s, boasting terrifying velocity.
BOOM—!!
“Whoa, getting hit by that would kill a guy…”
“That stuff's brutal, straight-up lethal.”
But there was one odd man out in the bullpen. A guy in sunglasses, legs crossed on a metal chair, slurping zero cola through a straw nonstop.
Slurp—
He was none other than Ryu Tae-jin, the undisputed top closer.
“Ooh, the Ryu brothers of Hancheong High!”
“Great visual!!”
Both brothers being nationwide pitchers was a huge draw, and reporters desperately wanted shots of them throwing side-by-side in the pen. But Ryu Tae-jin never budged his lazy butt from that chair.
“Nice ball! Han-ul could pitch the whole game solo tomorrow, huh?”
“Obviously, bro. I'll make sure you don't have to shower after. Look forward to it.”
Ryu Tae-jin, who seemed allergic to effort in everything, and Ryu Han-ul, playing along like it was the most natural thing. He clearly had zero interest in pitching unless forced.
“Ryu Tae-jin seems way lazier than I thought…!?”
“Looks can deceive. His high school career ERA is sub-1.00. Never given up a homer in three years.”
“Whaaat!?”
“The guy's living, breathing suppression. Just warming up in the pen panics the opponents. 'Gotta score before the ninth'—that pressure's unimaginable.”
Ryu Tae-jin, the man made complacent by high school baseball being too easy. His laziness looked set to carry over against Munhyeok High too.
“One thing I'm curious about. Why does Hancheong High practice so openly? Doesn't it risk leaking intel?”
“'Watch if you want—we'll smash any plan you make.' Pure overwhelming confidence.”
“………!!”
Hancheong High was strong the orthodox way.
A perfect hexagon team, balanced across the board.
Due to the game's nature, gimmick schools like Daegwallyeong High—with freakish peaks in one or two stats—were common, but Hancheong had no such weaknesses. They were just strong.
“Alright, practice over!”
The booming voice of the head coach ended the session. Players bowed deeply and dispersed.
“Kyaa, Choi Hyeok-su! Look over here!”
“Tae-jin oppa!! I love you…!!”
True to their “future stars legion” rep, Hancheong High already had personal fans. They could've brushed them off as tired from practice, but each player gave meticulous fan service.
‘Neglect fans, and you won't play!’
This principle, upheld since the school's founding, proved Hancheong's prestige ran bone-deep.
As Hancheong High's manager Cha Gang-hun exited the stadium, waiting reporters mobbed him.
A renowned tactician in high school baseball, he commanded with overwhelming charisma.
“Manager Cha Gang-hun, interview okay!?”
“Sure, fire away.”
With his easy approval, reporters beamed and unleashed questions.
“Munhyeok High's been set as the semifinal foe deciding Sejonggi advancement. Fans expected Geumgang High, Girin High, Daegwallyeong High—totally different outcome. Did you predict this matchup?”
“No, I didn't. Truth is, the opponent doesn't matter much. Hancheong High beats whoever comes and heads to nationals.”
“Thoughts on starter Geum Seong-muk?”
“Good player. Knows how to throw my pitches—a fine skill. But Hancheong's lineup is ready to score on anyone. No exceptions.”
One reporter raised a hand.
“Aren't you underestimating them a bit? Other Sejonggi-experienced teams all crumbled against Munhyeok High…”
“……”
Twitch!
Cha Gang-hun's eyebrow twitched.
Complacency—the word he despised most.
Even last Sejonggi, he'd heard “Lost to complacency, right?” He narrowed his eyes at the reporter.
“Complacency is the furthest thing from us. We just trust the history and power built under the Hancheong High name over centuries. We treat every spring game like nationals, so no need to worry about slacking.”
The reporters nodded, convinced.
Another question flew.
“Who'll be the key player this game!?”
“Every single one. Hancheong never relies on just one.”
There was that saying.
Hancheong's bench hitters could cleanup elsewhere; their losing pitchers could ace other teams.
Some hyperbole maybe, but their top-tier Seoul pitching and hitting were undeniable.
“Any words for opponent Munhyeok High…?”
“Munhyeok's a good team. First-year club reaching semis—impressive. They injected life into this spring tourney; deserves applause. However…”
“However…?”
Cha Gang-hun narrowed his eyes again.
He spoke firmly.
“They say applaud on your way out. Missing nationals sucks, but learn from this game. It'll make you better next year.”
“……!”
“That's the interview. Thanks.”
Cha Gang-hun showed zero doubt about winning. Few thought it arrogance.
Simple reason.
Hancheong High was that strong.
I skipped class.
Lounging on the rooftop, staring at the sky while on a call.
Not because I hated hearing about zero vector inner/outer products or log function base changes.
I needed a deep dive on Hancheong High's roster with Doyeon noona. Do it during break? Screw that, what do you know…!!
[“…That's the rundown.”]
“Tch, figures.”
The scouting report was blunt.
Overall lineup, 1 through 9: Absolute disadvantage.
[“Hancheong's bats have no holes. Probably one of the lineups pitchers dread most.”]
“Yeah, definitely my least favorite type.”
[“One silver lining: Comparing just the cleanups, we don't look that bad.”]
They had the Parkkas Trio; we had the Geum-Seok-Ryu Trio. Home run totals alone proved our raw power matched up.
Hmm, but in this game, odds of me even getting an at-bat are low.
Power hit A-rank, but with Solar Divine Vein stretched thin as a starter, no extra pumping expected.
Best effort, but cracking ace Ryu Han-ul for solid contact? Tough.
[“Pitching's the same overwhelming deficit. Starter quality, bullpen support—it's almost rude to compare…”]
“Ahem…”
[“…But! With a fan's bias, I'd say you and Lee Dong-hyeok hold up fine against their counterparts.”]
Doyeon noona added hastily, sensing my discomfort. I followed up.
“Oh, good to hear. So, win probability?”
[“Well, uh…”]
“Uh?”
[“13%…”]
“……”
Doyeon noona's voice shrank; she couldn't fib. I'd expected at least 30%, not 13%.
Still pisses me off thinking about it—Hancheong crossed the line in prelims, damn it!!
Too busy surviving game-by-game before to feel it, but facing “beat Hancheong!” head-on? Profanity incoming.
Canon had them as endgame foes—grow for 2 years, meet in quarters. Even pros (top tier in DokiDoki Baseball) kept 'em out till experienced.
But Extreme mode plops 'em at the nationals gate. Nothing's easy.
“Whew, hearing it from you feels like a death sentence.”
[“Don't sweat it. I mess up plenty.”]
“You do…?”
News to me.
Wasn't she the 1st-tier heroine for nailing breakdowns pitch-by-pitch? Now with her network of analysts too—should be spot-on.
[“Precisely your stuff, Seong-muk.”]
“My stuff?”
[“In hopeless mismatches, you show up and flip the script. Team rides momentum like magic. Never seen another like it.”]
“Noona, you're hyping me too much.”
[“Dead serious.”]
“Ahem…”
Such direct praise? Blushing here.
I thrived in clutch spots against stronger foes, sure—but overturning her precise odds? Newsflash.
[“So, what do you think? Think we'll lose?”]
“We'll win.”
13%.
Low, yeah—but not zero. If I could flip it like she said, I'd do it gladly.
[“Hehe, that's what I wanted to hear.”]
Doyeon laughed happily.
As we wrapped up, something forgotten hit me.
“Noona, remember?”
[“Yeah, what?”]
“When I visited home, the open-air bath…”
Crash!!
[“Kyaa!! Sudden mouse in the office…!”]
Beep, beep, beep—
“………??”
Call cut dead.
Her explosive reaction—crystal-clear memory. Seemed real embarrassed.
“Whew, nice weather.”
Whoosh—!
Cherry blossoms were blooming.
Petals danced on the cool breeze.
I vowed it.
We'd win, no doubt.
Our victory would bloom as brilliantly as those scattering petals.