Thirst (1)
"I'm no god, and I'm certainly no gambler. I can't predict how far Seisho High will go this summer. But this much I can guarantee: the name Hongo Yukihisa will be known throughout Tokyo—no, throughout the entire nation."
"·····"
"Whoa, that's high praise."
In the Seisho baseball team's dining hall, team captain Shirakawa Satoru read the article off his phone during dinner.
The piece said good things about me, yet a strange, baseless shame settled over me all the same.
"Reading an article about someone right in front of them is a little inhuman, don't you think?"
"That so? Sorry."
I swallowed the mouthful of rice I'd been chewing and offered the remark. Shirakawa-senpai looked anything but sorry—his face was pure mischief. Of course, I'd only said it because I was embarrassed myself······
"But the fact remains, it's impressive."
"Yeah. Baseball always pays attention to home runs or pure velocity."
"Seven scoreless innings alone is enough to earn that kind of evaluation."
Why were they suddenly like this? From every direction I could feel a coordinated effort to kill me with secondhand embarrassment. We weren't even the kind of school that got this worked up over making the round of sixteen in the preliminaries.
"Thanks for the meal."
I finished eating and stood. I made sure to set my tray down properly so the dishwashing crew wouldn't have any trouble.
"·····"
All this fuss over something like that.
I stepped outside muttering under my breath and headed for the practice field.
The hunger that had piled up since my Korean high-school baseball days. The long stretch of time I'd kept grinding even when no path forward was visible. And now, completely unlooked-for, I held a body packed tight with pure pitching talent—in a world where baseball was valued even more highly. If I added my own private delusion, it might even be a gift from the gods.
I had worked harder than anyone. At least among the people I'd seen with my own eyes, no one had outworked me. When my body wouldn't cooperate, I tried to study my way around it. Back then everyone around me treated me like some gloomy freak, because I analyzed everything, copied it, and desperately tried to graft it onto myself.
"·····"
But I had failed. I never saw the light. That was why I was so desperate now.
I glanced up at the beautifully risen full moon. I still couldn't be satisfied. I wanted to see a bigger light—bigger still.
"What?"
"·····"
After dinner and weights, I went looking for the third-year catcher, Date Yoshinori. He had just finished outdoor batting practice and was taking a break outside.
"I don't mind, but you threw a complete game last time. And we've got a game tomorrow."
"I didn't throw that many pitches, and if I'm going to come in relief anyway, I'd rather loosen up today."
"Heh. All right, all right."
Date-senpai scratched his head with that good-natured smile of his. The one I usually battery with was Matsuda Masahiro, but Matsuda-senpai had already finished his own routine and gone home.
"·····"
I can't just sit still.
After the last game I'd wanted to refine my breaking-ball command a little more, but chances had been scarce. I still wasn't satisfied. Pitching tomorrow in this state? Unthinkable.
"Fine. Let's go."
"Thank you."
I bowed in gratitude to Date-senpai for making the time.
"All right."
"·····"
We entered the pitching practice area and Date-senpai strapped on his catcher's gear. While he did, I warmed up quickly. I was a pitcher. A pitcher had to treat even practice like the real thing. In my head I pictured a Major League All-Star cleanup standing in the box.
"I'll go mainly with the slider."
"Whatever you like."
"·····"
I put everything into the act of throwing. Later maybe, but right now I had no intention of calling signs myself. This was time to correct my own shortcomings, so I made the request politely first.
Last game.
I'd given up hits on the slider twice. Two problems, as I saw it. First, the location had been relatively over the middle. Second, the tunneling with the fastball hadn't been as clean as I wanted. The fastball-splitter combination was solid. But if I couldn't further hone the slider and curve as weapons, I couldn't climb any higher.
"First pitch coming."
"Good!"
I threw with the most ideal form I could picture, putting everything into it.
Thwack—!
"Nice one."
"·····"
The bullpen session continued. Was this the fortieth pitch? Date Yoshinori watched the second-year Hongo Yukihisa, who never answered, and let out a quiet snort of laughter. A catcher's mask hiding the face was convenient at times like this.
Totally locked in.
Yoshinori had seen how Yukihisa kept communication to the bare minimum and poured everything into baseball. How many players in this club—no, nationwide—could immerse themselves in practice like that?
Thwack—!
"Good!"
"Hoo."
Regardless of whether Yukihisa replied, Yoshinori kept praising every pitch. A catcher had plenty to do; if a little extra work could lift a pitcher's spirits, why not? If it made the pitcher even one percent more comfortable and that translated into even the slightest edge in a game, there was nothing he wouldn't do.
Yoshinori kept receiving.
Hongo.
Even while catching the ball, he couldn't quite gauge the level. Was that disqualifying for a catcher? Yet a catcher saw more than just the incoming pitch. The way this kid threw with such overwhelming stuff and still hunted for improvements—that was what made Yoshinori unable to measure Yukihisa's ceiling.
This is something else.
Until middle school Yoshinori had been the immovable cleanup hitter and starting catcher on his team. At Seisho he had run into a wall. At least he was still part of the journey toward Koshien as a backup; even that might look like a luxury to some.
"·····"
But the sensation of meeting the real thing was unmistakable reality.
Thwack—!
This time a fastball. How hard? Definitely at least 150 km/h. A second-year pitcher who treated 150 as the baseline.
Hard to feel cheated when it's like this.
The genuine talents he'd met at Seisho—especially the ones who left a deep impression at the same position, Matsuda Masahiro, and this second-year Hongo Yukihisa. Looking at guys who lived in another world, Yoshinori was reminded once again how wide the world was, and how much humility was required.
"All right, last ten! Let's finish strong!"
"Yes!"
Yoshinori called out with slightly exaggerated voice and gesture. Once you'd seen the wall, all that remained was to do what you yourself could do.
"Hmm······"
July, when students were starting to prepare for summer break. After class ended, Seisho's second-year Nagasawa Haruka rose from her seat.
I'm nervous.
Today was Seisho baseball's West Tokyo preliminary round of sixteen. Attention would jump once they reached the quarterfinals, and today's opponent was objectively several levels weaker, yet for Haruka even the round of sixteen was enough to make her heart race. Baseball was a sport full of variables; single-elimination every game was truly merciless.
"Yap!"
"Whoa!"
Someone pounced on Haruka the moment she stepped outside the school.
"Haru-chan! Heading to the baseball club?"
"Ah······ Hirose."
Haruka's face showed mild surprise. It was the girl she'd recently gotten to know—Hirose Satsuki.
"I have to go watch the game right now."
"Really? There's a game today too? That's amazing. You guys play so often."
"Mm."
A weekday game, and not even an evening one, so the managers had no choice but to join after classes finished.
"Haru-chan, when does the baseball club ever get free time?"
She puffed her cheeks a little, the tone laced with cute coaxing. Before Haruka knew it, Satsuki had glued herself right to her side.
"Well······"
It wasn't a hard question, yet Haruka hesitated.
No.
The correct answer would have been that it depended on the schedule. Instead she gave a different one.
"We'll probably be busy until around the end of summer break."
"Ehh? For real? That's a problem."
This time Satsuki looked genuinely disappointed, making a pouty face.
"Ah······"
Haruka seriously considered correcting herself, wondering if she'd misspoken. Saying "until the end of August" assumed Seisho would reach the Koshien final. It might not have been the proper answer. But when she thought of the club members staking everything on becoming Japan's best, she wanted to say it that way even if only as a hypothesis.
"The national tournament is held when it's really hot, after all."
"What am I gonna do? Busy the whole summer break. I just bought a super cute bikini too—what a waste."
"Huh? Wait?"
Satsuki's words short-circuited Haruka for a second.
"A b-bikini? Why?"
"Hmm?"
She asked carefully. What on earth did a bikini have to do with the baseball club?
"My cousin and her husband run a beach house on Enoshima, so I go every summer break."
"Ah······"
Haruka nodded.
No, that's not the point.
She wanted to ask what that had to do with the baseball schedule, but she was afraid of looking like a weird girl.
"·····"
That aside······
Haruka snuck a glance at Satsuki while they talked. Slim, yet with everything a girl was supposed to have in the right places, and her skin was strikingly white. She would look good in a bikini, no question.
"Mmph!"
"Hm? Haru-chan, what's wrong?"
"N-nothing, hahaha······"
What was she even doing? Haruka flushed red with embarrassment at herself.
"I want to go to Enoshima with Haru-chan too."
"Huh? With me?"
"Yeah! It'd definitely be fun. Honestly, since becoming a second-year I haven't made many friends in the same grade."
"Ah······"
Haruka found that rather surprising.
Wait a second.
And then she thought: so bringing up Enoshima and the bikini was because of her? It felt a little awkward, but she could see it that way. The bikini? Girls wanted to show off a nice figure to other girls too, right?
"Ah! Haru-chan just smiled. Thinking something fun by yourself?"
"Did I?"
Haruka was grateful Satsuki didn't dig into the source of the sudden smile. The two of them somehow kept the conversation going all the way to the subway station.
"Hey, Haru-chan, what do you think of Hongo-kun?"
"Huh? Huh?"
"Hm?"
Haruka overreacted and turned her head. Satsuki tilted hers, blinking with a faint smile.
Out of nowhere?
Why ask about Hongo Yukihisa? She'd already been curious after seeing them greet each other last time. And the bikini—could it be······?
Haruka lowered her head a little, hesitated, then carefully opened her mouth.
"Our baseball team's reliable pitcher······ yeah. That's Hongo-kun."
"Isn't he cool?"
"Huh?"
Satsuki answered with a smile. Haruka stayed flustered.
"I-is he? He might be cool, I guess?"
"It's so interesting. He's tall, and since he's an athlete he's super solid, but he's gentle and has manners—with girls and with little kids too."
"·····"
Stories Haruka didn't know. She kept listening.
"And yet when he does his own thing he focuses so hard he goes quiet and becomes a completely different person. That's cool, you know?"
"······Is that so?"
"Hehe."
Satsuki laughed brightly—a smile so lovely even another girl would find it adorable. Haruka compared it to the smile that had slipped out earlier while she was imagining things alone.
How can she talk like that?
Setting aside whether she was close enough to Hongo to say such things, how did someone praise a person so prettily? Haruka became certain that Satsuki's strength was seeing the good in others.
"I want to go watch baseball with Haru-chan too. My part-time job just had to be today."
"······Yeah."
Haruka answered a beat late. She was a good girl in many ways, and she had suddenly entered Haruka's world. A flashy high-school girl who seemed to have nothing to do with baseball stepping into a domain full of nerdy enthusiasts, conservative and older on average. Haruka's feelings were a little complicated—especially once Hongo's name came up. What was this emotion, exactly?
"Ah! Awesome!"
"Hm?"
Satsuki suddenly lit up on her own.
"How come there's no line over there?"
Haruka followed. It was the franchise bubble-tea shop in front of the station. A new menu item had blown up on social media lately, so the place was always packed.
"Hey, Haru-chan! There's a flavor I love the most—wanna try it?"
"Uh, well—"
"My treat."
"······Okay."
It wasn't that Haruka was broke or especially happy about free bubble tea. She was simply being dragged along by Satsuki's tempo.
Sluuurp.
"Ahahaha! Haru-chan, just now you looked exactly like a baby squirrel!"
"Hahaha······"
Haruka laughed awkwardly while Satsuki cracked up.
It's ridiculously good.
A flavor she'd never had, and the sudden rush of sweetness. Haruka felt so pleasant her mouth nearly stretched ear to ear.
What do I do?
Satsuki's presence was somehow burdensome and somehow nice at the same time. How was she supposed to explain that?
"Hongo-senpai."
"What?"
"Ah, nothing."
"·····"
Gulp.
West Tokyo district round of sixteen, Summer Koshien preliminaries. Seisho High versus Sensisen High.
(Hongo, you're in the bullpen too. But don't forget you're last in line.)
(Hongo! Today's game—we're going to make sure the guy who threw a complete game last time doesn't have to pitch!)
"·····"
Clench.
Complete game, my ass.
The words of Coach Maeda Katsuyori and captain Shirakawa Satoru. Sitting on the bench watching the game, Hongo Yukihisa clenched his fist. The heat rising in him wasn't only because of the sweltering summer. The first-year catcher Yamada Tetsuya beside him could read the severity on that face well enough to tread carefully.
Today's starter for Seisho was the ace wearing number 1, Maejima Genta. Bottom of the fifth. Seisho 4, Sensisen 2. Two outs, runner on second.
Crack—!
"Hoo."
A collective sigh of relief rose from the Seisho bench.
"Out!"
A grounder from the Sensisen batter. Pitcher Maejima Genta had escaped the jam.
"Through the sixth—can you do it?"
"I can!"
Genta answered Coach Maeda's question with spirit. Even after a not-bad five innings and two runs, his face still looked thoroughly pissed off.
"All right! Let's go lighten the pitcher's shoulders!"
Top of the sixth, leadoff hitter Satoru said.
"·····"
Tch.
Yukihisa was frustrated. His condition felt excellent today and he wanted the mound, yet the pitchers lined up ahead of him were still Nakayama Junichi and Enatsu Akira. If he came in it would mean a real crisis—and he didn't want the team in crisis either.
Crack—!
"Wooooah!"
"Yes!"
"Safe!"
Satoru, hitless until this at-bat, ripped a triple. The sheer speed once again burned itself into the eyes of everyone watching.
Thwack—!
"Strikeout!"
"Nice ball, Enatsu!"
"We won!"
"·····"
Final score: Seisho 9, Sensisen 4. Another victory forged by Seisho's powerful lineup and the combined work of three pitchers.
It's over.
Yukihisa gave a rough nod and offered only obligatory applause.
Next game I'm starting for sure.
Next up were the quarterfinals. They would be held at Meiji Jingu Stadium, which seated thirty thousand, and would be broadcast on Tokyo TV channels and online. But to Yukihisa that sort of thing ranked very low. If things went as expected, who was the next opponent again? He'd just heard it, but it was fuzzy. Didn't matter—he'd analyze them from the materials once the matchup was set. The opponent was a baseball team, he would take the mound, and after that?
This time I throw until the end.
Nothing but the resolve never to leave the mound. He was packed full of the desire to show himself to the world.
"All right, line up!"
"Huh? Hongo."
Captain Satoru watched Yukihisa walking with a serious face.
"What's wrong?"
"Hongo looks pretty tense."
"Ah······ yeah, that makes sense."
Vice-captain Kazuma Junpei beside Satoru also grew serious.
"Next starter is definitely Hongo, and unless something crazy happens the next opponent is Sugano."
"Hoo······"
A memory they wanted to forget yet could not afford to. Toai University Affiliated Sugano High School—the team that had eliminated Seisho in last year's Koshien preliminaries. That school was the projected quarterfinal opponent.
Figures.
Satoru and Junpei both thought even the usually blunt Yukihisa must be feeling an enormous weight of responsibility.