It was the Monday after their "almost-a-game," and Kamiyama Middle School had already moved on. No one in the hallways talked about baseball. No one cared about Haruto's team. Except the team.
Haruto limped into class, a bruised knee from yesterday's dive still throbbing. Sōta sat next to him, bandaging a finger he claimed was "injured from catching too much greatness." No one asked what that meant.
Mr. Inoue—math teacher, glasses fogged, and bald head gleaming—slammed his chalk onto the board.
"Pop quiz. Open your notebooks."
Haruto groaned. He was better at split-finger fastballs than fractions.
---
Lunch: The Meat Bun Summit
Later that afternoon, they all gathered behind the gym, under the old tree with the busted vending machine nearby.
Riku tossed a meat bun to Kento, who caught it with one hand. "So… when's our next humiliation?"
"Practice," Haruto said between bites. "Tomorrow after class."
Reina raised an eyebrow. "You mean after we all barely survive math again?"
Tomo winced. "I failed two questions today… one was my name."
Sōta leaned back against the tree. "We need structure. Roles. Training schedules. A real plan."
"But how?" Aoi asked. "We don't have a coach."
Riku pointed with his thumb back toward the building. "We kinda do."
---
Coach Inoue: The Phantom Mentor
That evening, Haruto approached Mr. Inoue during cleaning duty.
"Sensei," Haruto said. "Will you help us? Just advice. Not full-time."
Inoue didn't look up. He was scrubbing the chalkboard aggressively.
"I teach numbers, not nonsense."
"But…" Haruto hesitated. "You left a page on pitching grips in my locker."
Mr. Inoue paused.
"…Coincidence."
"And you corrected my footwork diagram in the trash."
"…That diagram offended geometry."
"And you left a note that said 'Don't square your shoulders during the windup unless you want to throw into orbit.' Signed 'Not the Math Teacher.'"
Mr. Inoue finally turned. "Fine. I'll observe. I'll correct. I'll criticize. But I will not coach."
Haruto smiled. "We'll take that."
---
Practice Day: Pain, Rain, Progress
Next afternoon, they showed up to the field again—no real bases, no lights, but more determined than ever.
A piece of paper was pinned to the fence.
> "Warm-up laps x10
Push-ups x30
Throwing drills – focus on form
Don't waste my time."
– Not the Math Teacher
Sōta groaned. "We're all going to die."
They didn't die.
But Tomo tripped over third base (a cardboard box), Riku sprained his pride missing a pop fly, and Haruto's control was so bad that one pitch accidentally hit a tree—and bounced back.
Yet for the first time, they had a plan. They sweated, argued, laughed, and helped each other up.
Mr. Inoue stood far off near the school entrance, pretending to read a book—but occasionally yelling things like:
"Your stance looks like a flamingo!"
or
"If you're aiming at birds, you're doing great!"
Reina muttered, "He's terrifying."
Haruto smirked. "Yeah. He's perfect."
---
End Scene: Under the Lights That Don't Exist
As dusk settled, they collapsed into the grass.
Tomo hummed. "I think I hit the ball today."
"You did," Kento said softly. "Twice."
Aoi poured water into tiny cups. "We survived math. And practice."
Sōta grinned. "Tomorrow? Maybe we try hitting the actual strike zone."
Haruto stared up at the sky, breathing deep.
No stands.
No audience.
No trophies.
But under this fading blue sky, with bruised hands and sore legs, they were building something real.
And for now—that was enough.
---
End of Chapter 5