Chapter Text
The floodlights of Tokyo Dome blazed down on a crowd that held its breath in unison.
The scoreboard glowed 8-8, bottom of the ninth inning. The tension was almost suffocating.
On the mound, Seizan University’s ace wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes sharp with determination.
At the plate stood Ryukoku Ryukoku University’s cleanup hitter — Sawa Eijun, a fourth-year player standing at the plate for the last time.
His hands tremble slightly around the bat, not from fear, but from the weight of everything this moment means. Four years of sweat, failure, laughter, and sleepless nights have led to this one swing. He’s not a prodigy, not a genius, just someone who refused to give up, who carried his team through every storm.
As the crowd roars, a fleeting silence settles in his heart. In that brief stillness, memories of his family drift in — his mother’s gentle laughter, his younger brother’s bright grin, voices that once filled their small home with warmth. They’ve been gone for years now, yet in this moment, he feels them beside him, as if their presence lingers in the wind brushing his cheek.
From the dugout came the chorus of familiar voices:
“Go, Ei!”
“Smash it, Eijun-senpai!”
“Bring it home!”
But Eijun barely heard them.
His world had narrowed to the pitcher before him. One last duel, one last chance to carve his name into the game he had given his life to.
This was it.
His final swing as a university player. His final chance to bring victory to his team.
The wind carried the tension between them.
The pitch came — fast, low, burning.
Eijun’s eyes flashed. His body moved before thought could catch up.
Crack!
The sound tore through the stadium. The ball soared — high, powerful, unstoppable.
The Seizan outfielder sprinted, leapt—
but it was gone.
A walk-off home run.
For a heartbeat, the world went silent.
Then the dome exploded into cheers. Teammates stormed the field, tackling him in celebration, their shouts echoing like thunder.
As the crowd roared and his name filled the air, Eijun stood amid the chaos, chest heaving, eyes bright with something deeper than joy.
He thought of every early morning, every bruised hand, every lonely night of training, every sacrifice that had led to this moment.
This wasn’t just a victory.
It was the culmination of years of sweat, pain, and stubborn belief.
It was the spirit of Ryukoku... and of the game itself.