"Strike, out."
"Ga over!"
As the baseball left Lin Guanglai’s hand at that mont, everyone’s gaze in the stadium focused on the batter at ho plate: Waseda’s dreams, East Asia Academy’s dreams, all the dreams of everyone on the field were attached to that tiny, flying baseball.
Yet sports competition is ultimately cruel; from the start, it is destined that there must be winners and losers—red and white baseball passing through the strike zone, finally landing in Tsuchiya Ryota’s glove.
"Pop."
That resounding sound was not only the contact between the baseball and the glove but also the sound of East Asia Academy’s dreams shattering.
"Alas, it’s over, our sumr... it’s over."
In the East Asia Academy players’ area, many closed their eyes in disbelief, overshadowed by sorrow; so with abundant emotions shed tears upon seeing their batter swinging at nothing.
Especially the last batter who struck out—being the person involved, his regret was deeper than others, and the pain he felt was far greater. When the baseball missed the bat, being declared out, that batter from East Asia Academy seed drained of all strength, his legs gave out, and he collapsed on the ground, sobbing without getting up.
As for the other side, Waseda’s emotions at this mont were a completely different scene:
Firmly catching the pitcher’s ball in his glove, Tsuchiya Ryota jumped up from the ground, raised his hands high towards the sky, shouting "We won, we won" repeatedly, then ran towards his teammates to bask in the hard-earned victory;
On the pitcher’s mound, Lin Guanglai watched the baseball fly into the glove, then let out a heavy breath, releasing his stress fully. "Luckily, I didn’t let down Suzuki-senpai’s expectations." - this was his most genuine thought at the mont.
In Waseda’s player area, the substitute players were already joyfully hugging around Suzuki Kensuke.
Three outs, ga over.
Final score, Waseda Real 2:1 East Asia Academy.
Despite Lin Guanglai being newly brought onto the field at the start of the ninth inning and getting hit by Takasugi Masahiro, he managed to withstand the pressure, with the support of his teammates, using his violent fastballs to lock down the subsequent East Asia Academy batters at ho plate, unable to budge.
After more than two hours of fierce battle, Waseda successfully weathered the storm, becoming the third team to advance to the semi-finals of the West Tokyo Conference, following Nihon University Tsurugaoka and Nihon University. Their next opponent would be the winner between Waseda University Senior High School and Soka High School.
Under the summons of the main umpire, players from both sides walked down from the field and up from their resting area, lining up on either side of ho plate, standing with lifted heads and upright chests facing their opponents.
There may be winners and losers in the ga, but having contributed to such a splendid match, no one among the teams was truly a loser.
Applause erupted from the grandstands, a collective and enthusiastic ovation from the spectators for both teams—whether supporters of Waseda or East Asia Academy, or neutral fans simply enjoying the ga, everyone generously offered blessings and praise for this thrilling match.
Despite the joy overflowing in their hearts, when faced with the opponents from East Asia Academy, Waseda’s players restrained their smiles, expressing respect for their opponents through somber expressions;
On the other side, the East Asia Academy players put away their tears of sorrow, each raising their heads with unwavering eyes, facing the opponents who defeated them.
The chief umpire glanced around at the players, seeing everyone was prepared, he began announcing the results of the match:
"In this match, Waseda Real 2:1 East Asia Academy."
"Winner, Waseda Real Industrial School."
"Both sides, bow."
Following the main umpire’s words, players from both teams took off their caps, bowing to their opponents:
"Thank you for the ga!"
As winners, Waseda’s players had every right to disregard others’ feelings and celebrate their victory; however, upon seeing the tear-strewn faces of East Asia Academy players, the older players recalled similar scenes that happened to them before—thus, even Tsuchiya Ryota, who usually couldn’t stand Mihori Yuusuke, refrained from celebrating excessively in front of the opponents.
After all, respecting your opponent is also respecting yourself—how can you be sure that when you’re down, your opponent won’t kick you when you’re down if you mock them in tis of success?
Once the bowing ceremony concluded, the lines gradually rged, and players from both teams approached each other for their final exchange.
With an awkward expression on his face, Mihori Yuusuke walked towards Suzuki Kensuke and Tsuchiya Ryota, slowly saying:
"Hey! Suzuki—make sure you get to Koshien!"
"This genius won’t allow the team that beats us to end up not making it to Koshien."
Holding Tsuchiya Ryota back from confronting Mihori Yuusuke, Suzuki Kensuke smiled and replied:
"Definitely."
After congratulating his opponents, Mihori Yuusuke turned away—a phrase stuck in his heart that he didn’t voice, "If we know we lost to the final champion, it may give so consolation to our failure."
Returning to his team, Mihori Yuusuke could no longer suppress the sadness inside, tears flowed down relentlessly: "If only I were stronger, if there were more good pitches, would that mistake not happen, would we not lose points, and would we end up winning and moving forward?"
Such thoughts flashed in and out of his mind, reappearing again—for Mihori Yuusuke, losing possibly the most critical match of his life by one point was an emotion he would need much ti to process, certainly not at this mont.
Weight pressed onto his shoulder—that was Takasugi Masahiro’s firm hand.
Using his arm to wipe away the tears, Mihori Yuusuke looked at his catcher partner: his eyes were red but tearless—as the captain, this man like Takayama indeed chose to bid farewell with strength.
Mihori Yuusuke spoke with a slight choke: "Masahiro, our sumr... has ended like this."
"It’ll still be there in the future, right? It’s not like you’re saying farewell to baseball." Placing his hand on Mihori Yuusuke’s shoulder, Takasugi Masahiro replied, "Let’s go back and learn, train well—in university, let’s play ball together again."
"Yeah."
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