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506 – The Baseball Club Debut
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 15:00:14 +0000 UTCSince his house was full of women, the three neighbors had stayed at the Ruyi Dorm until late.
Not long after Kyousuke returned home, they finally said their goodbyes and left.
But before leaving, they had already made plans with Hojou Mikiko to join the neighborhood association’s event the next day.
Miss Dullahan still had plenty she wanted to say, but the mysterious power of housewives terrified her.
She immediately hopped on her bike and fled.
“Eh? Why isn’t Shooter eating grass?”
Kasuko tilted her head, holding a tray piled with fresh greens in both hands as she stood beside her older brother in the garage.
“Selty-oneechan clearly said Shooter was a horse! It even neighed twice!” The little girl frowned. Was there really such a thing as a horse that didn’t eat grass?
Before Kyousuke could answer, Yamauchi Sakura laughed behind them.
“Silly girl. Shooter used to be a horse, but now it’s become a motorcycle. It drinks gasoline now.”
“Oh, I get it! Then next time Shooter comes over, I’ll feed it gasoline! We can just use the gas from Red Pig.”
With complete nonchalance, Kasuko sentenced the red Japanese sports car to death.
“Red Pig” was her new nickname for it—since it just sat there motionless, lazy like a pig.
A death steed turned into a motorbike… would it really drink gasoline?
Kyousuke carried that thought with him back into the living room.
“Don’t worry,” Sakura said cheerfully, patting his shoulder. “Even if Shooter doesn’t drink, Selty will make it drink!”
Fair enough. As long as Kasuko didn’t try to turn Shooter into a unicorn, everything was fine.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, Kyousuke felt a thump against his leg.
Looking down, he saw that fluffy Momotarou was showing off his brand-new outfit.
“Whine whine whine~~”
[Aniki!! Look at this! What the hell is this?!]
[I’m the fearsome Hell Hound! How am I supposed to follow you like this?]
[There’s no menace left at all!]
The little dog scratched at his big brother’s leg in outrage.
His once pure-white furball self was now dressed in a peony-patterned outfit, complete with a birthday hat somehow bent into the shape of a unicorn horn.
“Whine whine whine~~”
[Naoka’s the worst!]
[It’s bad enough the ojou-sama fools around, but she had to join in too!]
[If she likes frilly dresses so much, why doesn’t she wear them herself?!]
[That kind of thing suits flat-chested girls like her, not me!]
[How am I supposed to go fight with aniki like this? The enemy will laugh me to death!]
[My dignity’s been crushed into the dirt!]
The fluffy dog howled his grievances.
As always, his sharp little eyes knew exactly where to throw blame—Kasuko was untouchable as the ojou-sama, so he dumped everything on her accomplice, Ueno Naoka.
“Ohh! Momotarou, this outfit actually looks great on you!”
Kyousuke scooped up the little dog so their eyes were level.
“Woof!”
[Hahaha, really? You think so too? Naoka’s a wicked woman, but her craftwork isn’t bad.]
[As expected of me! My aniki and I are in perfect sync, the greatest in the world!]
Hearing that makes the fluffy pup’s face lit up with a triumphant grin.
Watching the circus-dog act, Kyousuke couldn’t help but sigh at how sinful he must be.
Still, if even a death horse needed coaxing, was it really such a big deal for Momotarou to wear a frilly dress?
He set the pup down, gave him a pat on the head as a reward, then stood—only to notice Sakura and Shouko had already slipped out of the living room.
“Sakura-chan and Shouko-chan already went to bed. They asked me to say goodnight for them.”
Mikiko didn’t even need to guess at her son’s thoughts; she knew the routine.
From childhood, the first thing he always did upon coming home was check where everyone was and how they were doing.
“A natural-born warehouse manager,” Hojou Ichirou used to say.
“Got it.” Kyousuke smiled, though a little helpless inside.
That idiot Shouko had probably gone off to apologize to Sakura.
“Yaaawn~”
On the sofa, Kasumigaoka Utaha stretched, her curvy chest threatening to burst from her slim-fit T-shirt.
“Mikiko-auntie, I’ll head to bed too. Good night~” she said softly.
She then bent down, seriously told little Kasuko goodnight, and fulfilled the girl’s flood of requests—kisses on the cheek, hugs, cuddles—granting them all with gentle indulgence.
She looked every bit the perfect wife and mother.
Kyousuke braced himself for a “goodnight” from her too, but instead she didn’t say a word to him.
He frowned, puzzled, until he saw her pause halfway up the stairs and turn her head.
Her slender waist swayed, her long black hair flowed down her shoulders, and beneath soft bangs, those wine-red eyes glimmered with sudden allure.
White teeth grazed her lips as she bit them lightly.
Kasumigaoka Utaha perfectly embodied the art of the beauty’s backward glance, a fleeting vision of breathtaking charm.
If the ukiyo-e master Kitagawa Utamaro were alive, he would finally understand what a true beauty was.
Kyousuke, already wound tight after a whole evening of Shouko’s teasing, felt his body respond instantly.
Utaha hadn’t spoken, but her gaze said it all: she wanted a reward.
She wanted him. Her bedroom door would not stay locked.
‘Kyousuke, come.’
The power of such a glance was in its brevity, in its suddenness.
It lingered in memory, growing more beautiful the longer one recalled it.
As the “perfect heroine,” Utaha understood this instinctively.
After that brief pause, she turned and continued upstairs, leaving only a faint smile at her lips.
She knew: once the lights went out, Kyousuke would obediently enter her room, climb onto her bed, and slip under her blanket.
Or so she thought—until she woke the next morning, clear-headed, and realized one thing.
‘Kyousuke… did his brain break last night?’
Kyousuke’s brain, of course, was fine. In fact, he was clearer than ever.
He let his long-suppressed conscience guide him, and went to sleep alone.
There was no way he could sneak into Utaha-senpai’s room smelling so strongly of Shouko. That volcano would erupt on the spot.
And so, for once, the night passed in perfect peace. Everyone slept soundly.
The next morning at six-thirty, Kyousuke left for school earlier than usual—all on his own. Not to pick up Eriri, but to attend the baseball club’s practice.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t offered.
But Eriri had just scoffed: “What, we haven’t even been apart for half a day and you already miss me? Don’t tell me you’ve realized you can’t live without me?”
Kyousuke spent ten whole minutes trying to figure out whether that was supposed to be tsundere or a straight pitch.
The two of them ended up chatting until half past one in the morning.
Not because they were done, or even sleepy, but because Kyousuke received a message:
———————————————————————
“Kyousuke, staying up late is bad for your health.” —Sawamura Sayuri
———————————————————————
At half past one in the morning, right in the middle of chatting with a girl, Kyousuke’s phone suddenly lit up with a message from her mother.
It was more terrifying than Sadako crawling out of a TV screen.
Cold sweat broke out instantly on Kyousuke’s forehead.
And so, while mentally grumbling that Eriri was already this old and still slept in the same room as her mom, he hurriedly urged her to go to sleep.
“Tch, really now! I risked ruining my beauty by staying up late just to chat with you, and you can’t even say thank you?!”
Eriri muttered on her side. Kyousuke responded by spamming an entire screen full of “thank yous.”
“Pfft—hah! What an idiot!”
The blonde girl burst out laughing, her giggles crisp and bright against the quiet night.
The sound stood out so much in the stillness that her smile froze instantly.
She quickly tapped the power button to turn off the screen and, guilty as a thief, turned her head to check whether her mother had been woken.
“Finally had enough talking?”
Sayuri’s voice drifted over.
Eriri flinched at first, but then scrunched her nose, puffing herself up proudly.
“As if! Kyousuke would talk with me until morning if he could!
But I told him to stop because staying up too late would ruin my eyesight.
Ugh, I don’t even know how he comes up with so much to say. We literally see each other every day, and he’s still clingy as heck.”
Her tone was deliberately scornful, dismissive.
Of course, all that contempt and dismissal only existed in the girl’s imagination.
What Sayuri actually heard was pure happiness and bragging.
The woman sighed silently, her thoughts drifting to the conversation she’d had earlier that day with another mother.
“Go to sleep. Tomorrow, let your father take you to school,” Sayuri murmured.
“Huh? But I was planning to let—” Eriri froze halfway through her words.
“Let who?”
“…Nothing! It’s been ages since papa took me anyway, hehe~”
Listening to her mother’s breathing grow steady, Eriri ducked her head under the blanket, leaving only her golden hair spilling across the pillow, gleaming even in the dark.
She bared her little tiger teeth in frustration, grumbling silently to herself.
That idiot better not think about her too much. And he definitely better not show up first thing in the morning to pick her up.
That would be way too embarrassing!
Still… he couldn’t not think of her either.
It had to be just right. Like Coke—sometimes bubbly, sometimes flat.
When you think about it, little bubbles rise up in your chest. When you don’t, it’s nothing at all.
Hehehe~~
———————————————————————
“Phew… Seven in the morning at Soubu High. Yukinoshita, have you ever seen it like this?”
Kyousuke tilted his head back, staring up at the school’s multimedia building, a sigh slipping out.
It felt like being dragged back to his past life.
He could almost hear the droning hum of students reciting textbooks.
Luckily, this time he wasn’t here to cram vocabulary but to burn off energy.
The English words he used to loathe with a passion had long since become child’s play for someone who’d maxed out the art of language.
Sure, he did morning swings and push-ups at home every day, but that kind of self-directed training felt completely different from this—the atmosphere of an actual club’s morning practice.
Groaning inwardly, he dumped all his morning grumpiness on the baseball club captain as he stepped onto campus.
He climbed the wide stairs into the central courtyard and looked around.
It was still more than an hour before morning classes, but the school already felt alive.
From the activity rooms, he heard students reciting poetry with a vigor that would have shocked any actual poet.
Somewhere else, the mellow tone of a euphonium flowed, simple and steady, like the sound itself embodied a determined young girl.
Off in the distance came the calls of running drills—
‘Crap, I’m late!’
His dazed gaze sharpened, and he quickened his pace.
Damn it, was this club building carrying on Yukinoshita’s will? Scheming to trap him here with distractions?
Plenty of sports clubs ran in the mornings—the track team, soccer, baseball, tennis, anyone who needed stamina.
But the earliest risers were always baseball and soccer.
By the time Kyousuke crossed the courtyard and reached the athletic field, the baseball team was already running laps in perfect formation.
“Left foot, right foot, left foot!”
Captain Tsuchiya Ryouta ran along the outside, his booming commands louder than all the shouts of encouragement from his teammates combined.
To be a leader, if nothing else, you had to have the loudest voice.
On the same track, the track-and-field members were running as well—for them, running seemed more like joy than training.
Meanwhile, the soccer team hadn’t started yet, just passing balls around the field while waiting for everyone to arrive.
Kyousuke only gave them a glance before sprinting toward the baseball club’s locker room.
He had to change too—and today, he’d even brought the baseball glove Yukinoshita had given him.
His debut match was today!
But just as he reached the locker room door, he spotted another group coming through the west gate of the field.
“Kisaki? Tamaki? What are you guys doing here?”
Sure enough, it was the kendo club members, with manager Kisaki Tetta and vice-captain Tamaki Aonobu leading the way.
Was the kendo club doing morning practice too?
Why hadn’t their captain heard anything?
Maybe it was because he’d spent all of yesterday wandering around with Shouko.
“These guys have too much energy. Better to use it on building stamina than waste it on gravure magazines,” Tamaki said with a laugh.
Kyousuke chuckled at the sight of the “energetic” kendo members behind him.
Most of them looked half-asleep, as if they could collapse mid-step.
Hatake Gorou and the others didn’t count—they’d spent the whole night drinking and messing around.
No one bounced back from an all-nighter and a hangover in a single day.
But even Hikigaya Hachiman and Zaimokuza Yoshiteru, who had seemed fine yesterday, looked completely drained.
“Hachiman, Zaimokuza—what the hell were you two doing last night? If you can’t handle this, just go rest. Careful you don’t drop dead. Running has the highest risk of sudden death, you know.” Kyousuke gave a word of warning.
“Uh…”
Hachiman averted his eyes, clearly terrified to ignore his idol but even more reluctant to answer. In the end, he mumbled:
“We pulled an all-nighter gaming…”
“Oi, oi, you mean that kind of game, right?”
At once, Zaimokuza let out a ridiculous “Aha! Aha!” laugh and bolted away at lightning speed, acting like Hachiman was the only one who’d been playing.
