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512 – Even This Turns Into a Love War?
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 16:15:37 +0000 UTCWhen people talk about baseball, the most famous word isn’t “strikeout,” nor is it “stolen base” or “tag out.”
It’s home run.
The former are technical terms only baseball fans really care about, but the latter?
Thanks to humanity’s universal yellow-minded imagination, everyone knows what a “home run” means.
The phrase is so popular among lustful minds precisely because it’s vivid, easy to picture, and undeniably fitting.
A home run: the batter smashes the ball high and far, soaring past the stands, beyond the horizon—then runs all the way from home plate, around first, second, third, and back to home in one breath, scoring in glory.
It’s the golden standard of a hitter’s strength.
Even the geniuses who skip straight to the pros after high school only manage a handful of home runs in the entire Koshien tournament. That’s how rare they are.
So if home runs are that rare, you can imagine how unthinkable something like a full steal is.
In fact, the phrase “stealing home all the way” didn’t even exist until this very moment.
Before Hojou Kyousuke, the most legendary base-stealers were just called “the man who can steal home!”—though that was mostly exaggeration.
Everyone knows how the Japanese love dramatic nicknames.
Truth was, even they couldn’t actually pull it off.
And no one, absolutely no one, had ever stolen all four bases in one run.
The only reason Kyousuke had gotten this far was because no one expected it.
If they had, his journey around the diamond wouldn’t have been nearly so smooth.
No matter how ridiculous his physical abilities, this wasn’t a brawl—it was baseball. A single touch and you’re out.
A “full steal”? If anyone else had said it, Tsuchiya Ryota never would’ve believed it.
Normally, catchers only really worry about someone stealing second base—that’s the longest throw from home, meaning the most time to slip in.
That’s where the odds of success are highest.
But if the other schools realized their opponent had a batter who could steal all four bases in one go?
They’d be forced to completely change their strategy.
Pitchers, infielders, everyone would have to split their attention just to guard against the possibility. And divided focus means opportunities for the team.
Tsuchiya Ryota had actually considered letting Kyousuke succeed with a single “steal of home.”
Even in a practice match, it would’ve been a miracle worth remembering.
But in the end, he couldn’t allow it.
If Kyousuke started thinking baseball was this easy, training him later would become impossible.
‘Sigh. Having a prodigy on the team really is a headache.’
With that thought, Tsuchiya locked his full attention on the charging Hojou Kyousuke.
His body leaned forward, braced for impact.
As catcher, he’d trained himself to fear fast-approaching bodies far less than the average person.
‘This is the end, Hojou. You’ve already shown enough.’
‘You’ve proved your strength. You’ve conquered me, Nekota, Kuramochi… all of us.’
‘This is where it stops. Keep training, and I’ll teach you everything I know. Together, we’ll walk into Koshien!’
The pounding of Kyousuke’s footsteps echoed louder and louder, scattering clouds of reddish dirt into the air.
Everyone’s eyes were fixed on him, waiting to see if he would complete the miracle of the full steal.
And then—Tsuchiya saw something impossible.
Kyousuke’s face, usually blank, twisted into a grin.
‘Why is he smiling?’
That thought barely formed before Tsuchiya realized the figure before him had suddenly grown taller.
No—not taller. He had jumped.
‘Damn it! He’s going for a dive!’
A “dive,” as the name implies, was when the runner hurled himself into the air toward the base.
But there were different kinds: sliding low under the defender’s arms, or flying over the top if the defender dove as well.
Catchers sometimes had to dive, too—scrambling to snatch an imprecise throw, then lunging to tag the runner.
And if the runner leaped over that? They could still reach the base.
Tsuchiya was about 175 cm tall—average for the team.
Bent into a crouch, his height dropped to around 165. And Hojou Kyousuke… had just leapt over it.
‘Clearing one meter sixty in a base dive? What is he, wired to the ceiling?’
Nekota, who had stumbled to the ground, sat frozen, staring wide-eyed at the sight of Kyousuke soaring like a carp leaping over a dragon gate.
‘This isn’t a video game! Does he have to be this dramatic?!’
Tsuchiya reacted instantly.
‘No way. I can still stop him.’
He twisted, ready to swipe Kyousuke with the ball.
One tag, and it’s over.
But the world doesn’t bend to Tsuchiya’s will.
If it did, he would’ve already led his team to victory at Koshien two years ago.
Instead, reality bent toward Kyousuke’s imagination.
The vision he’d pictured in his mind now burned clearly in his jet-black eyes.
Tsuchiya’s full weight pressed him down, his legs stiff from crouching too long. His body just couldn’t move fast enough to intercept.
Kyousuke’s lips curved upward, his airborne body surging forward with unstoppable momentum.
His jump even carried him a full hand’s span above Tsuchiya’s head.
‘Thud!’
He slammed into the dirt hard.
He wasn’t a martial arts master—landing safely after such a sudden leap was already an accomplishment. His form was messy, his face smeared with dirt.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was—
“Safe!!”
Yuya Takaya, roared the call, striking a pose filled with passion.
Kyousuke’s left foot, toes outstretched, had brushed home plate the moment he crashed down.
From home, around the diamond, and back again—the countless bluffs, fakes, and battles of will had all played out in mere seconds.
“Hojou—!”
“Hojou!!”
The cheers, screams, and applause exploded like thunder.
The kendo club members were the first to react.
That blazing fire they’d been holding in their chests finally found release.
They charged, howling at the top of their lungs, voices breaking as they called out to their king.
Their faces twisted with fanatic devotion, their cries half-crazed.
The rest of the school had always whispered that the kendo club was strange—not quite a sports team, not quite a gang, but more like a religious cult.
Their obsession with Hojou Kyousuke was that intense.
Photos had even circulated online, supposedly of their secret “rituals.”
And now, watching them swarm him like zealots, soccer club and track team members couldn’t help but believe it.
Kendo club? More like a crusader order.
The crowd quickly scrambled aside, terrified of being trampled underfoot.
Hojou Kyousuke was still sprawled on the ground, savoring the strange sweetness of victory, when several hands suddenly reached out, yanking him to his feet—then tossing him high into the air.
The Kendo Club members, strong as oxen, had no trouble pulling off a celebratory toss.
The only discomfort for Kyousuke was the fleeting sensation of weightlessness; there was no danger of crashing to the ground.
“Whoooa!”
“Full steal!!”
“Soubu’s outlaw!!”
“Fate lags a step behind—he alone is the god of speed!”
“...”
Cheer after cheer erupted, half of them nonsense nicknames.
Just Zaimokuza alone contributed five new titles in the span of a minute.
…Huh?
Blinking, Tsuchiya Ryouta finally snapped out of his daze.
Only then did he notice he’d somehow been shoved four or five meters away.
He turned his head.
Oh, they were celebrating.
Well, that made sense.
It was worth celebrating—Kyousuke’s first practice game, and he’d already pulled off the miracle of stealing home.
Hell, they ought to record it on camera and enshrine it in the Baseball Club’s archives.
After all, even if it was just practice, they’d gone all out trying to stop him.
Both he and Nekota had played at full strength.
Watching the joy all around, Tsuchiya’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.
Their prodigy, Hojou Kyousuke, had finally begun to cash in on his insane potential.
The Baseball Club had accepted him from the heart.
The future was bright—brighter than ever…
…Wait.
Why were all the people celebrating from the Kendo Club?!
Tsuchiya’s eyes went wide.
What the hell was this?
Why were they the ones swarming Kyousuke like he was their long-lost messiah?!
He spun around.
To his horror, he realized he was the closest Baseball Club member to Kyousuke.
Nekota was still sitting dumbstruck on the dirt.
The first baseman, the pitcher, everyone else—they were frozen in place, gaping as Kyousuke was tossed sky-high again and again.
Meanwhile, the Kendo Club fanatics were screaming their lungs out. “Our boss is the hope of Soubu High’s Baseball Club!” “With him, Koshien is guaranteed!”
All technically true—but hearing it from them made it sound unbearable.
“You idiots, are you stupid or what?!” Tsuchiya roared, hurling his glove straight at Nekota.
“Go get Hojou back, damn it!!”
“Right!!”
Snapped out of their daze, the Baseball Club members finally bolted into action, shouting as they charged forward from all directions.
Too bad ordinary athletes can’t out-crazy zealots.
The Kendo Club gave them a crash course in what it really meant to be Hojou Kyousuke’s chosen followers.
Tamaki Aonobu, ever the schemer, had already prepped his men.
Sure, they came to morning practice to cheer for their captain—but half the fun was stirring up trouble.
So when the Baseball Club rushed in, they found themselves stonewalled.
The Kendo boys might not have had the same physical conditioning, but when it came to brawling? They were the real Takemichi Syndicate.
Sneaky elbows, quick trips, underhanded shoves—within moments, the Baseball Club was groaning in pain.
“What a noisy morning,” sighed the track-and-field captain.
Beside him, Hayama Hayato’s eyes flickered with complicated emotions. After a long pause, he murmured, “So this is Hojou Kyousuke…”
If I had that kind of strength back then… would the ending have been different?
Because the Kendo Club was too busy fending off the Baseball Club, their attention wavered.
Kyousuke—whose number one survival trait was “paranoia”—sensed the danger instantly and cut off the chaos.
“Tamaki, what the hell are you doing? This is baseball practice. Since when does the Kendo Club get to butt in? You think it’s your job to celebrate here?”
“Damn bastards! You almost tore my uniform!” Tsuchiya snapped, still fuming.
Tamaki only rolled his eyes, bowed politely to Kyousuke, and offered a parting, “May fortune in battle smile upon you.” Then he waved his people off.
They had stormed in like a mob and slunk away like shadows.
“Assholes,” Nekota muttered.
“Shut it, idiot! You’ve got zero awareness—no wonder Hojou doesn’t want to join our club!” Tsuchiya barked, even angrier.
Kyousuke himself stood off to the side, expression awkward.
Being tugged back and forth between two clubs of sweaty guys wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience.
Seeing their “golden ticket” nearly stolen, Tsuchiya’s temper exploded.
He cracked his fist down on each teammate’s head in turn, sharp thwacks echoing in the air.
“…Remember this. Hojou is the Baseball Club’s treasure. Even if it costs your life, you guard him. Got it?!”
“Yes, sir! We’ll protect the ticket to Koshien with our lives!!” Nekota and the others bellowed, glaring daggers at the Kendo Club as if they’d declare war right there.
…Seriously? Was this really turning into a love triangle death match?
Kyousuke bared his teeth in a grimace.
Once things finally calmed down, Tsuchiya, in his role as student coach, gathered Kyousuke for feedback.
“This steal was near perfect. Running the bases is all about decision-making—factoring in distance, the ball’s trajectory, the opponent’s speed, your own stamina. Every second matters.
Halfway through, when you sensed the risk of a tag-out, you didn’t hesitate. No panic, no stutter—straight into a full sprint.
From your footsteps alone, I could see it. A man’s resolve. His conviction. It’s been a long time since I’ve witnessed such decisive steps.
But…” Tsuchiya’s expression hardened. “There’s another side. Hesitation leads to defeat, yes. But blind decisiveness is suicide.
If you don’t clearly judge the gap in strength between you and the opponent, if you just charge forward blindly… then your teammates’ hard work is wasted. A
teammate hits a single to move you along, and then you throw it all away on reckless bravado.
Hesitation. Resolve. That’s the heart of baseball. You can’t falter, but you also can’t be reckless. Only the gods know whether the decision you make will pay off or ruin everything.”
