The midday sun was so bright it hurt to open your eyes.
"Shinomiya Kaguya, Class 1-A of Shuchiin Academy, I like you!!!"
From above the bullpen, Narii mimicked Takashi's voice in an exaggeratedly mocking tone while he was doing warm-up exercises below.
Takashi: ( ?_? )
"Please go out with me!"
Beside Narii, Hitomi stood with her arms crossed, sneering coldly.
Takashi stopped pitching, looked up at Hitomi.
It was one thing for Narii to fool around when she didn't know the truth, but what the hell was Hitomi jealous about?
Didn't they agree on a strategy?
That the two of them would work together—she'd get the main prize, he'd get the scraps—and together they'd milk the Shinomiya fortune dry?
'What? Got a problem with that?'
Hitomi shot him a frosty glare.
'Nope. Not at all.'
Takashi averted his gaze and resumed his warm-up.
"Hmph!"
Hitomi gave a sharp snort through her slightly upturned nose, as if to say: lucky you.
She, of course, knew Takashi didn't actually like Kaguya. She knew he had ulterior motives for the confession.
Knowing was one thing, but hearing it still pissed her off.
The time moved to 1 PM.
A sharp air raid siren suddenly rang out, signaling the end of the previous match.
On the field, the winning team embraced in excitement, while the losing team collapsed to their knees in tears.
Takashi had already seen scenes like this many times over the past few days.
No one paid attention to the losers' tears. The stadium staff came in to quickly tidy up the field, and the players for the next game entered.
"Up next, we have Aoba Private High School versus Shuwa High School!"
As soon as the male announcer finished speaking, students in the audience section for Shuwa High on the left side of the stadium stood up, raising homemade signs.
The signs pieced together to form one massive message: "Kitahari Takashi Scumbag."
"Shuwa! Shuwa—!"
The head of Shuwa High's cheering squad, red-faced and neck bulging with effort, started the chant. Immediately, a thousand voices followed in a roaring wave.
"—Fists to crush the playboys, feet to trample Aoba, dominate the nation!!!"
Thousands of students shouted together, their momentum nearly drowning out the rest of the stadium noise.
Wearing a baseball cap and a pinstriped uniform, Takashi lowered his hat slightly.
"Cat got your tongue?"
Hitomi turned her head and glared icily at Aoba's cheer squad captain.
Startled, the Aoba cheer captain quickly snapped out of it and shouted with a voice just as loud as the Shuwa captain's: "Aoba! Aoba—!"
"Crush Shuwa! Climb to the top!"
The match hadn't even started, yet Aoba Private and Shuwa High were already going at it.
In the audience, a girl in a Shuwa High uniform stood hunched over, her long hair falling past her waist, bangs covering her eyes.
On the right side of her hair were two cube-shaped clips, one yellow and one blue. A faint aura of melancholy clung to her.
Mimicking her classmates, she raised her right fist and seemed to cheer along, though in truth only her lips moved—she didn't make a sound.
Ah… I want to go home so badly!
Gotoh Hitori was filled with regret.
Why had she ever thought coming to Shuwa was a good idea?
Now look at her—she lost her precious day off and had to stand under the scorching sun chanting slogans to cheer for the baseball team.
Dragging a socially anxious, gloomy shut-in out of her house and tossing her into a crowd of people from all directions—how was this any different from torture?
Gotoh Hitori only wanted to curl up back in her closet at home.
Tweet!
A sharp whistle interrupted Gotoh Hitori's chaotic thoughts, drawing her eyes to the field.
The two teams lined up and bowed to each other.
After the bow, Takashi won the coin toss and chose to defend first.
Aoba's side was quite pleased with this, but Shuwa's side grumbled in dissatisfaction, their boos toward Takashi growing louder.
Under Gotoh Hitori's gaze, that handsome boy—being booed by every teacher and student from his school—stepped onto the pitcher's mound and stared straight at them.
It was an arrogant gaze, one that saw all others as beneath him.
Then the beautiful boy made a gesture—he lifted his right arm and pointed directly at Shuwa High's section.
The entire Koshien Stadium fell into a momentary silence.
All cameras locked onto Takashi.
He pointed toward Shuwa High, then turned his finger down and stomped the ground beneath his feet.
On the massive electronic screen, Shuwa students could see the subtle grinding of his toe into the dirt.
Every student from Shuwa widened their eyes in stunned disbelief.
Gotoh Hitori slightly opened her mouth, her face instantly lighting up with expression.
Wait, how did he dare?!
With so many people booing him, how could he still pull off such a provocative move?
Th-this is...
Way too cool!
With her middle-school taste in aesthetics, love for edgy rock styles, and obsession with clothes covered in gothic fonts, zippers, and ripped hems, Gotoh Hitori stared at the dominating Takashi like a Naruto fan watching Sasuke.
She had only one thought: Isn't this just me?
"Ahhh—!"
The first to scream sharply was Takashi's number-one fangirl, Narii.
"Takashi!!!"
"Takashi! Takashi!"
Then, over a thousand voices from Aoba rose up like a tidal wave.
Unlike Narii, Hitomi didn't lose her composure. She fixed a fiery gaze on Takashi, the corners of her lips curling into a smile full of anticipation.
She'd made up her mind—tonight, she was going to drain him dry.
The Shuwa students, realizing what had just happened, were about to shout back with even greater force—when suddenly a crisp sound rang out.
The umpire called, "Strike one!"
On the digital scoreboard, the "strike" light turned on.
The Shuwa students were once again silenced.
Just hit one. Just hit one!
They silently prayed in their hearts.
As long as they hit back, they'd immediately retaliate against Takashi.
"Beep! 158 km/h!"
"Strike two!"
"Wow!"
A unified gasp swept across the audience.
No one had expected Takashi to be even faster!
"Aoba's Fist" was no longer a worthy title—he should be called "Aoba's Flashblade" instead.
"Beep! 158 km/h!"
"Beep! 158 km/h!"
"Strike three!"
The umpire swung his arm.
"Strikeout!"
Drag him off—next.
On the pitcher's mound, Takashi rotated his shoulder.
He was a bit surprised himself—he hadn't expected his fastball to get even faster.
But pitching really wrecks your arm.
Takashi just hoped his own could hold up.
"End it in five innings!"
He raised his arm high, spreading his fingers wide as he shouted.
This was only the second round!
They hadn't even reached the quarterfinals yet.
If he had to pitch nine full innings every game, his arm would definitely be ruined.
"Yes!"
All eight of Aoba's field players shouted in unison, then glared menacingly toward the dugout of Shuwa High.
"Can someone ask the crowd to stop cheering? I feel like…"
One Shuwa player gulped hard before finally finishing his sentence: "They're giving Aoba some kind of berserk buff!"
Good news: there was a power-up!
Bad news: it went to the other side!
All nine Shuwa players looked equally miserable.
Stop yelling. Just stop.
Sure, the crowd was venting, but we're the ones getting crushed out here.
___
20 Advanced Chapters available on p@ tr eon (.) com/HalflingFics
Also, please point out my mistakes in the comment, thank you!
Don't forget to leave a review too~
Check out the other translations too
___