Settling Karma
“Aaah, Hongo-senpai is always so hardworking and such a model student...”
“I’m always doing my best to learn, hahaha...”
At the Seisho High School baseball team’s practice field, first-year catcher Yamada Tetsuya and first-year first baseman Hoshino Daisuke found themselves in a rather awkward situation.
“Even as first-years, you’ve made the bench and might even get to play in games. Could we get a word of resolve from you?”
“If I’m given the chance, I’ll give everything I’ve got for the team.”
“Uh, yeah, same here.”
Daisuke simply echoed Tetsuya’s answer to the reporter.
With the 2025 Koshien main tournament just ahead, a swarm of media outlets had descended on the Seisho High School baseball team—West Tokyo’s representatives—for interviews. Even major terrestrial networks had shown up to film special Koshien documentary segments, banking on high ratings.
For the baseball club, and especially the first-years, this sudden spotlight was enough to make anyone’s stomach churn. In Japan, schools heading to Koshien at this time of year were treated almost like politicians on the eve of an election.
“Just like East Tokyo, West Tokyo has long been a fierce battleground that has produced many outstanding Koshien teams. As you can see, the students are pouring their sweat into practice.”
The announcer from Japan’s Azai TV spoke for the camera. The footage being shot now would be edited and aired nationwide right before the tournament.
“All right, please introduce yourself!”
“I’m Hongo Yukihisa, second-year pitcher for Seisho High.”
The young man the announcer was interviewing was one of the most closely watched high school players in the entire country: Hongo Yukihisa.
“You’re drawing a lot of attention ahead of this Koshien. How does it feel to have become a star?”
“Hmm...”
Yukihisa’s expression turned careful.
During this summer’s West Tokyo Koshien preliminaries, just as the announcer said, Yukihisa’s name recognition among high school baseball fans had skyrocketed. Once rated a promising prospect, he had left the team for a time, then returned. Seisho had been known for having the strongest batting in the prefecture, but the lack of a true ace had been their weakness—until he became their savior. In the quarterfinals he had defeated one of the nation’s top pitchers, Naruse Tomoyuki, head-to-head. In the final he had thrown a complete-game shutout, leading his alma mater back to Koshien for the first time in five years. For Japanese baseball fans who loved dramatic narratives, there was no better story. And on a more visceral level, a second-year throwing fastballs that regularly topped 155 km/h was more than enough to capture hearts.
“I think we got good results because of the teammates who practiced with me. I’m not really conscious of all the attention right now. I just figure I have to perform well once the games start.”
Yukihisa answered. His tone was oddly textbook-like.
“Once the main tournament begins, even more people will be curious about you. Do you have a girlfriend?”
Yukihisa’s brow furrowed at the question.
This one...
Earlier he had given prepared answers to expected questions. He hadn’t seen this coming.
“Not particularly.”
“Hahaha, I see.”
Yukihisa felt a wave of relief at the announcer’s lack of reaction. It must have been just a formality.
“Any teams you’re wary of?”
Next question. This one he had more or less anticipated.
“Not particularly.”
“Pardon?”
“...”
He had expected it, but giving a clear answer was still difficult.
You’d have to know something about them first before you could be wary.
Yukihisa normally paid no attention to other schools’ baseball teams. He didn’t even know which teams were considered favorites for this Koshien. The bracket draw hadn’t happened yet—was there any point in researching other schools? Once opponents were set, they would receive scouting materials, and he knew he would prepare thoroughly then.
What matters is...
Knowing yourself and honing your own skills more than knowing the opponent. Yukihisa would also bat, but his core role was pitcher. A pitcher was the one posing the questions. Better to make the questions harder than to worry about the examinees.
“Finally, a word of resolve, please.”
“I will definitely win Koshien and bring honor to my school.”
“Thank you for your answers!”
“...”
It was a prepared line, but Yukihisa meant every word.
“As captain I feel the responsibility, but I also think our school is so strong that I can’t wait to face the representatives from other regions.”
Third-year Shirakawa Satoru answered the questions. The other members’ replies were similar.
“We’ll conquer the nation.”
“As third-years, this is our last high school tournament, so we’re putting everything on the line.”
“If we just win one game at a time, it’ll be over before we know it.”
“I pride myself on working harder than anyone. I’m sure we can win it all.”
The final answers from the baseball club members, centered on the third-years. Their confident eyes and tone left the film crew quietly moved, smiles spreading across their faces.
“That’ll be 1,120 yen!”
“Got it.”
The automatic door slid open with a rattle. I stepped out of my favorite Japanese convenience store, FamilyMart, arms full of snacks.
I really should cut back on the junk food...
I knew convenience-store food wasn’t good for the body, but every so often the craving hit like a freight train. On those days I would step on the scale first; if I could afford to put on a little weight, I would buy something. FamilyMart’s ready-made fried chicken was especially excellent. I usually ate karaage as a side dish with rice, but this convenience-store chicken had a strangely greasy, addictive quality all its own.
Late evening. I walked through Nerima Ward, where I lived, partly for the exercise. Once I ate I wouldn’t want to go out again, so better to move a little first. It made the guilt feel slightly lighter.
“Hmm...”
For Tokyo, this neighborhood was incredibly dull. At this hour almost no one was out walking. Maybe that was why my thoughts started drifting again.
Two days left. I would stay in Tokyo until tomorrow, then the day after that we would leave for Nishinomiya City in Hyogo Prefecture, home of Koshien Stadium. It wasn’t quite the distance from Hokkaido to Kyushu, but heading from east to west still meant a long, tiring trip. In Korean terms, it was farther than Seoul to Busan.
Hyogo Prefecture...
Nishinomiya, where Koshien Stadium stood, belonged to the Kansai region centered on Osaka. That made me remember something Hirose Satsuki had told me last time.
Kansai-style okonomiyaki versus Hiroshima-style okonomiyaki.
I doubted we would have the leisure to sit around eating okonomiyaki once we got there, but if we did...
I snorted.
“What the hell is this.”
When you thought about it, the distinction was useless. Just go into any shop and ask for okonomiyaki—done. The sheer pointlessness of it made me laugh out loud.
“...”
Honestly, these days I seemed to be surrounded by a lot of good people. My baseball teammates, the coach who was strict and taciturn during training but still within reasonable bounds, the managers who were kind and helpful. Most of all, everyone in the baseball club worked hard, and I liked that. Saying it out loud would be embarrassing, but still.
And...
If I had to call anyone a friend, Hirose was a good kid. I never imagined we would meet and talk this often, yet every time we did I thought she was a decent person.
“...”
But something felt off. With Hirose, with the teammates—whenever we were together there seemed to be a wall between us. Not one they had built. One I had put up myself. I didn’t know how to break through it, and whenever I wondered whether I even should, the thought that maybe I didn’t need to would take over.
No.
I shook my head hard, alone. Why was I thinking about this? I had so much left to do. Without games, I was getting soft. Time to head home?
Huh?
Suddenly I heard voices. From that alley over there.
“We just wanted to hang out a little—why’re you making such a big deal?”
“Hey, stop hanging around with this scrawny guy and come have some fun with us.”
I headed toward the sound. A deserted spot that set off every instinctive alarm. Rough male voices.
“Stay away!”
“Acting tough in front of a girl, huh?”
“Get lost!”
“What was that?”
“...”
What the hell is this.
When I got close enough to see, one guy and one girl were surrounded by several men. One of the rough-looking ones already had his right fist cocked.
“Eh?”
I recognized them.
“What are you doing here?”
“Aaanh?”
When I spoke, every eye locked onto me.
“Hongo-senpai?”
“Huh?”
“...”
The male and female protagonists of this world: first-year Kajima Yusuke and Higuchi Shiori. The two of us already shared a twisted sort of history. I had been so buried in baseball that I had long since stopped caring whether they were the original leads or just extras...
“Who the hell are you?”
“Senpai?”
“So you’re a high schooler?”
Look at these punks.
Five guys glaring at me. Clothes, hair, accessories—they reeked of the classic Japanese school-delinquent type straight out of a manga. Moments like this were the only reminders that this world had once been a comic.
I get the situation roughly.
These two seemed to attract events like magnets; a bunch of thugs were picking a fight with the couple.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I know those two. Leave them alone and get out of here.”
I spoke to the delinquents.
“What did you say?”
“Heh heh, give me a break.”
“Just ’cause you’re big doesn’t mean you can talk shit.”
“Hey, what year are you?”
“...”
Figures it wouldn’t work.
I had never seen guys like this back down just because someone asked nicely. And those two—the protagonists—were staring at me. With every eye on me, they should have been running already.
“Not gonna answer?”
A yellow-haired delinquent stepped toward me.
Hmm.
I checked the surroundings. A few solutions to this situation came to mind; the one that both appealed and repelled me the most floated to the top. If it went that way...
CCTV, witnesses.
A security camera mounted right out in the open under a streetlight. A girl made a perfect witness and potential deponent. Quick check complete.
“You deaf, asshole?”
“Do me a favor and cooperate.”
“Aaanh?”
“I don’t particularly want to hit you guys.”
“...Hahaha. Guys, you hear what this punk just said?”
Of course that was a lie.
I can see right through him.
I watched the expression on the delinquent in front of me change. My words had rattled him for a second; then he glanced at his buddies behind him and relaxed. Transparent.
“Hongo-senpai!”
“...”
Kajima Yusuke shouted at me. Just stay quiet, or better yet grab Higuchi Shiori’s hand and bolt already. I could have stalled long enough to sprint to a convenience store myself.
Though...
Staring at the thug’s face was making other thoughts bubble up.
“Stop picking on weak kids and go home. Even trash like you probably has parents who worry.”
“...What did you just say?”
Come on.
“I’ve been holding back, but—”
The yellow-haired guy tapped my cheek with his fingers. That was enough.
I clenched my left fist tight.
CRACK!
“Yuji!”
“Whoa!”
I drove a punch straight into the delinquent’s jaw.
Yeah. Guys like this were more familiar to me.
I was nine, maybe. I don’t remember exactly how it started, but I had beaten up a classmate who hated me. He called me an orphan. Looking back, what does a nine-year-old know? Just a kid being stupid, parents who never taught him about orphans. But back then—and every time after—I made sure to punish anyone who called me that.
I tried not to cause trouble for others. I never really had close friends. All I remember is that I never forgave anyone who denied me.
(D-don’t hit me)
“...”
The moment those bigger kids who swaggered because of their size or their gang went down and looked up at me trembling—up through about second year of middle school, situations like that used to give me a strange thrill. I got into a lot of fistfights because of it, but I always kept swinging to the end, so I never once looked up at someone else in the final moment.
“Y-Yuji!”
“Y-you!”
“...”
Yellow-hair was out cold. A solid hit to the jaw drops a person instantly.
Damn.
I had expected it, but this body was too strong—the punch packed ridiculous force. Of course it did; I could throw a stable 150-plus km/h fastball. If the fight continued, it might get out of hand. Instinctively I hated these types so much I considered just beating them all, but maybe people really only learn by getting hit—and by hitting.
“You lot, take your friend and all go home. And you two, come this way.”
I jabbed a finger alternately at the delinquents and the protagonist couple.
“...”
The first-years, reading the room, hurried over to me.
“Let’s go.”
“Huh? Y-yes.”
“Uuuuugh!”
I glanced back; the thugs were already dragging their knocked-out buddy away. Yellow-hair’s eyes were unfocused.
“Hm?”
Once they fled, a backpack left behind caught my eye. I walked over and picked it up.
“What’s this? Hey! Is this yours?”
I held the bag up and shouted.
“I-it’s mine!”
Kajima raised his hand, looking desperate. I approached Kajima Yusuke and Higuchi Shiori—the protagonists—and stared at the blank-faced Kajima.
“Th-thank you.”
“Hey, first-year.”
“Huh? Aagh!”
“Yusuke!”
I flung the bag hard at Kajima. He nearly crumpled under the weight but somehow stayed upright.
“You get picked on and just stand there like an idiot—what are you, a manga protagonist?”
“...Senpai.”
“There’s a convenience store just a little farther—you should’ve run. Sheesh.”
I sighed. This was the kind of guy he was. Even when I used to read the manga, before he showed any cool moments I always wanted to give him a knuckle to the head for being so frustrating. The fact that the cool moments had been aimed at this body of mine now was just absurd...
“I’m leaving.”
“Huh? What?”
“If anything comes up later, put in a good word.”
Delinquents who lived and died by their pride probably wouldn’t, but if they tried to make an issue of getting hit, I would need these two.
I headed straight home.
“Hongo-senpai!”
“...”
What a pain.
Kajima still had something to say and called me back.
“Thank you for today. And congratulations on making Koshien. I went to the final at Jingu Stadium too.”
“Huh?”
Kajima bowed as he spoke. Well, even though it was summer break, a lot of Seisho students had come to cheer at the final.
“You’re a Seisho student too—were you planning not to come?”
“Huh? Th-that’s...”
“Once we’re at Koshien we’ll be busy, so don’t hang around.”
“...”
I said it like an order and started walking home again. For a second my eyes met Higuchi’s beside him; her eyes, hands, and lips were all trembling.
That little shit.
Worry about the girl, not making another guy cringe with your gratitude.
“Hmm.”
Am I addicted or something?
The next afternoon. We had been given the day off since we left Tokyo tomorrow, yet my body moved on its own and carried me straight to FamilyMart again. This was exactly why I needed to quit cold turkey, damn it. There would be FamilyMarts near Koshien too, complete with that ready-made chicken, so I had to be careful. Today was the absolute last time.
“Ah!”
“...Huh?”
I couldn’t help jumping. Standing in front of the convenience store was a tall girl with long hair who had recognized me.
“Senpai.”
“Higuchi?”
Higuchi Shiori, whom I had run into just yesterday after a long time. Why was she here?
“What are you doing out front?”
“Oh, just...”
Higuchi scratched her head and looked away. Was she a little airheaded? In the manga her inner monologue barely appeared until later, so her exact personality had been hard to pin down.
Doesn’t matter.
I left her standing there and went inside.
“1,320 yen.”
“Got it.”
I paid and stepped back out.
Yes!
The hot dogs and chicken nuggets that had been sold out last night were in stock.
“Hm?”
“...”
Outside, Higuchi was still waiting. I should say something at least.
“Have a good break.”
“...”
I tossed out the line and started for home.
“Um, senpai.”
“Haa...”
These kids, I swear.
Yesterday Kajima Yusuke, and now her—why never say what you need while facing someone, only call them back after they turn away?
“What.”
“Thank you for helping us yesterday. I should have said it right away. I’m sorry.”
“...”
Higuchi spoke, then pressed her lips shut. Getting harassed by guys and then watching someone drop from a punch would be shocking, sure.
“I wasn’t sure how to say it, but I’m glad we ran into each other like this.”
“Hirose has my number—you could’ve just asked her.”
“Ah, right. I should have.”
“...”
Definitely airheaded. Tall, with none of that lively energy, she barely even looked like a high school girl.
More importantly...
I knew Higuchi and Hirose Satsuki were pretty close. I had seen them together, and I had known the story even before arriving in this world.
“Hey, Higuchi.”
“Yes?”
“Why didn’t you tell Hirose?”
“...Tell her what?”
“Honestly, you and I had some bad history.”
“Ah.”
Higuchi’s eyes widened a fraction. The Hirose I knew was the type who protected her people. If she had known what I once did to Higuchi, she never would have gotten close to me.
“Just because?”
“...Yeah, great answer.”
I had been a little curious, but after a few seconds I realized it didn’t really matter. Whether by coincidence or design, Higuchi and I started walking the same direction.
“But why about Hirose-senpai?”
“Just wondering.”
“Oh, wait—are you interested in Hirose-senpai too?”
“How did the conversation jump there? Hold on—‘too’? What does that mean?”
I stopped and asked Higuchi.
“Ah... n-no, nothing. I just meant are you interested.”
“...”
Her transparent attempt to backpedal. Just now she had said it completely naturally. “Too” meant there was some second- or third-year guy—someone I didn’t know, only Higuchi and Hirose did—who was interested in Hirose.
Since she called him senpai, he was a second- or third-year, my age or a year older.
Not hard to understand.
A girl as pretty and good-natured as Hirose would be wildly popular. But he wouldn’t be a weirdo like those thugs yesterday, right? The type who looked normal on the surface but was slimy underneath?
Here we had a protagonist like Higuchi, a school delinquent like me who got “re-educated,” a sexy-type like Hirose. So of course there could be one guy who seemed fine in public but was rotten behind the scenes. Even if no one was living out the exact roles I remembered, character molds still existed.
I was Hirose’s friend. That gave me every reason to exterminate pests...
“Senpai?”
“...”
No.
I had gotten way too immersed.
“Well, Hirose-senpai is cute even from a girl’s perspective.”
“Enough bragging about your close friend. More importantly, why have you been following me this whole time?”
“I’m not following you—I’m meeting Yusuke later.”
“That so?”
After what happened yesterday, a date the very next day? They sure knew how to have fun. I had heard Hirose was working her part-time job today.
“Is it okay if I tell Hirose-senpai about yesterday?”
“What?”
“Isn’t it a cool heroic tale?”
“We’re not kids—what’s cool about it.”
I answered a bit curtly to Higuchi’s ridiculous suggestion. A second-year high schooler getting into a fistfight was nothing to brag about.
Huh?
As we approached a crosswalk, someone looking at his phone on the opposite side caught my eye. It was Kajima Yusuke, the boyfriend of the girl next to me.
“Hey, I’m going this way, so you cross.”
“Huh?”
“Your boyfriend’s over there.”
“Eh? He’s already here? Ah, senpai, but ‘boyfriend’—”
“Light’s changing. Go on, hurry.”
“Huh? Why? Ah... Yusuke doesn’t hate you or anything?”
“I said go.”
“Ah!”
I gave Higuchi’s slender back a push with my left hand. Last time I would ever put a hand on someone else’s girl.
“What are you—!”
“Be careful. And try not to stay out so late.”
“...Senpai?”
“...”
Honestly.
A model-level beauty who made every passing guy turn his head. And the ordinary guy who somehow ended up with her. Their fresh little love story. That was the manga I had read.
And Kajima, the male lead, had always carried complicated feelings about the far-too-perfect Higuchi. If a taller, better-looking guy said she was pretty, he got anxious. He hesitated over whether he even deserved to walk beside her, yet because he loved her he tried hard not to show it so he wouldn’t look pathetic. From my perspective, if this were real life, wouldn’t it be more rational not to date a girlfriend who was that pretty? But if he liked it, that was his business.
Still, girls like Higuchi Shiori, who took male attention for granted, would never understand a guy’s struggles. Maybe later in the manga she would realize and understand—but that was irrelevant now.
As a former reader who had peeked into Kajima’s inner thoughts, I decided to be considerate.
“...”
Look at me.
My meddling had grown. Before, I never cared about other people’s business. Still, even if I was showing off a little, hadn’t I done a good deed?
I turned my head. Far off, Higuchi and Kajima were together. Even from here the guy looked completely flustered.
“Hmm...”
I took a deep breath. Whatever being had brought me here—if it actually existed and was watching—I hoped it would look kindly on me for helping the protagonist couple. We were heading to Koshien, after all, and baseball needed a little luck on its side, right?
“Who just yawned?”
“Ugh, that was me, senpai! I’m sorry!”
“No need to apologize—if you’re tired, go sleep.”
“N-no, I’ll watch till the end.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Yes...”
At third-year manager Fukada Riko’s words, second-year Inoue Kotaro answered with a series of nervous bows. Fukada-senpai was kind, but she had a scary side sometimes. Of course Inoue seemed to be overdoing the deference a bit.
A few days before the Koshien main tournament opening, in Nishinomiya City, Hyogo Prefecture. We had arrived at our hotel. And today was the day of the Koshien main-draw lottery. No time to complain about how late they were holding it—we had to focus.
“No matter how you look at it, this system needs to change.”
“Tell me about it.”
The summer Koshien main tournament was a 49-school single-elimination bracket. No seeds, and with 49 teams you couldn’t neatly fill a 32- or 64-team field, so some pretty unfair situations arose. In the draw, fifteen schools received byes straight into the second round, while the remaining thirty-four had to play an extra first-round game. Those fifteen got a free pass; the thirty-four got nothing extra and simply had to play one more game raw.
“Please...”
“...”
Honestly, landing among the fifteen would be pure bliss; landing among the thirty-four would make you want to flip the table. The broadcast of the draw continued regardless.
“Round One! Kanagawa Prefecture representative Shohoku High School versus West Tokyo representative Seisho High School!”
“Aww, man!”
“Damn.”
“Haa...”
So that’s how it is.
To win Koshien you had to win six games. Disappointing, but the only option was to pour that frustration into completely destroying the opposing school.