Busan's Greatest Giant

I don’t remember much of what happened after that. Just the usual training, intra-squad games, and throwing more pitches with full windups to torment the batters who were slowly getting used to my motion, all while watching their faces twist in real time.

“Wow, he throws the ball in such a disgusting way.”

“That guy’s really a freshman?”

“If Kim Sihu was even half like him, we would’ve swept the championship….”

It was a pretty fun day.

Personally, I loved that classes for sports-track students ended after third period. This world was wonderfully considerate of student athletes, so once third period wrapped up and we ate, it was only around twelve-thirty. After that came the golden routine: insane baseball practice until five or seven, a shower, dinner at the cafeteria, crawling home, spending time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with family, playing around a bit, then sleep. The only downside was having to wake up around six in the morning… but I could just nap at school and on the bus.

Tomorrow’s the away game at Busan High.

Normally they would have told Busan High to come to Seoul, but because their school bus had broken down, Haneul High agreed to make the trip instead. The cause was surprisingly ridiculous—a rear-end collision caused by the bus cutting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠off another car. Since Busan is the city of baseball, the driver who tried to aggressively cut off the Busan High bus had his license plate leaked. He was roasted by the entire city in a pilgrimage of mockery until the owner publicly apologized and even changed cars. It reminded me of the red Jeep incident at the Treasure Dream.

That kind of thing could have happened in my old world too, but this world is so ridiculously obsessed with baseball that it’s on another level… It’s honestly impressive.

So Coach said that since we had a game this Sunday, we’d pack up Friday evening. The plan was to sightsee around Busan on Saturday, play on Sunday, and head back. That’s why I came to school today carrying both my baseball bag and a travel suitcase. When I told my parents, they stuffed two hundred thousand won in my hand and told me to eat good food and buy souvenirs… but I was just going to mooch off Kim Sihu anyway, so I deposited it straight into my savings account.

After listening to class like usual and eating lunch, I chatted with the baseball team about what we’d do in Busan while we waited for the managers to finish their classes. The moment the managers got out of school, we immediately headed to the bus.

“Whoa, this is insane.”

Parked in the baseball field lot was Haneul High’s away bus. At a normal school, everyone would have to cram onto a single bus, but Haneul High was different.

They’ve completely lost it…!

It was a used bus, but it was the very same away bus the GL Devils once used, only repainted on the outside. Since it was the same model the first team used, every seat was separated like a premium express bus, complete with curtains and individual monitors. The most shocking part was that there were two of them. In other words, the position players and pitchers had separate buses.

Whether by coincidence or not, the position-player bus was painted white like my glove, and the pitcher bus was black. Maybe that was why Kim Sihu had matched my glove color when he gave it to me. Seeing the school slogan “[Rise Up, Toward the Top!]” marked in the opposite color of each bus’s ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠main scheme made me think, So this is what a prestigious program looks like.

This school is actually crazy.

They seemed to care more about player welfare than most pro teams.

“Wait, then which one do I get on?”

This away trip included a few second-string players. The starters were already set, but they were bringing extras in case of injury. Still…

“Hmm… the only person I know on the pitcher bus is Kim Sihu.”

Since I was registered for both pitching and hitting, I headed toward the position-player bus where Oh Jihun and Yang Uijin were instead. People started boarding, but…

“Huh? Oh, I’m sitting next to Kangmin. We’ve ridden together since freshman year.”

I couldn’t say it out loud, but Damn it, Uijin, you bastard.

“I’m sitting next to Yuta-hyung.”

“Ugh, Jihun, you traitor.”

I should have just gone to the pitcher bus. There was Epinel there… Wait, maybe Epinel went with the managers? There were exactly four of them, so the numbers worked out.

The very back seat—the sacred rule of school trips—was already taken by the third-years, Yang Uijin, and Heo Kangmin. So my seat ended up being…

“......”

“.....”

Right next to Coach. Confirmed.

...

...

...

It was pure hell.

How could one person talk non-stop for four hours straight to Busan? I never expected to receive a compressed summary of Coach Kim’s entire playing career and his life as a pro manager. The seniors’ faces said they’d already suffered through this before; they just gave me sympathetic looks.

“The seat next to Coach is the destiny of the team’s ace. Just endure it.”

“I’ve thought Senior Lee Surin was Haneul High’s true ace ever since I joined.”

“Haha, I’ll just take the sentiment.”

…I’m seriously considering a coup.

I’ll let it slide since you bought me skewered beef and sweet rice drink at the rest stop, Senior Lee Surin…!

When the bus arrived in front of Busan High, the weather—much warmer than Seoul despite being winter—greeted us.

…Free time is finally here…!

“Alright, you’re on your own until six o’clock. Go wherever you want and meet back here by—”

“Freedom!”

“I’m heading to the COEX first!”

Before Coach could even finish speaking, the starters bolted like unleashed colts. Then he looked at me.

“…You’re not going anywhere?”

“I was going to, but it felt wrong to leave you alone.”

“…….Thank you.”

Thanks to the bond we’d built on the bus, I ended up following Coach to the Choi Dong-il Museum.

...

...

...

I tapped my transportation card and stepped off in front of the Choi Dong-il Museum.

“…………So this is Choi Dong-il.”

The eternal ace of the Oceans, known as the Iron Arm. The man who recorded four wins in the Korean Series, set records so insane they should never be broken again, and took second place in the popularity poll for the 40th anniversary of Korean baseball—beating out Lee Jong-beom in third and Lee Seung-yeop in fourth. First place had gone to Seon Dong-yeol, but back then I had voted for Choi Dong-il.

A monster. Ryu Hyun-jin’s mentor. The man who laid the foundation for the players’ association that allows current players to be treated properly. An indispensable figure in Korean baseball… and the person I expected would grant me Iron Arm (H).

“One, please.”

After quickly paying the entrance fee and stepping inside the Choi Dong-il Museum, what appeared before my eyes wasn’t the museum interior. Countless scenes began flashing past me. The background of a Korean Series victory. The mound during his debut game…

Only then was Iron Arm (H) fully unlocked under perfect conditions, and…

So you’ve finally arrived.

“…..!”

By the time I realized it, the scenery around me had already changed to Sajik Stadium—home of the Oceans—and a long time had passed since the shift.

A person I could no longer see in real life. The greatest giant of Busan—Choi Dong-il—had appeared.