The football rolled to a slow stop beneath Aoi's foot.
His breathing steadied, but his chest didn't.
He stared at the grass — the familiar uneven backyard, the dent in the fence from the time he mis-kicked a volley, the dirt patch he'd turned into a makeshift mound — and wished that something, anything, would tell him what to do.
Going to Kose felt like stepping forward.
Leaving Midoriyama felt like walking away.
Aoi pressed his palms to his eyes.
*Why is something good supposed to hurt this much?*
He didn't have an answer.
He went to sleep with that question twisting in his stomach.
He woke up with it still there.
And by the time the next school day started, it had only grown heavier.
--------------------
He didn't even make it halfway to the classroom before someone blocked his path.
"You're hiding something."
Coach Sakamoto stood in the hallway with crossed arms. That was never a good sign.
Aoi froze.
"W–what makes you say that?"
"Your face." The coach narrowed his eyes. "You look like you robbed a shrine."
Aoi swallowed. Hard.
"…Takeda-san from Kose came yesterday," he admitted softly.
Coach's eyebrow twitched. "He talked to you."
"…Yes."
He braced himself — for disappointment, for anger, for guilt to swallow him whole.
But the coach only sighed.
"So he scouted you."
Aoi's head shot up. "You knew!?"
"Your homeroom teacher told me. And your catcher does not know how to keep his mouth shut."
Aoi winced. *Masa…*
Coach Sakamoto leaned back against the wall, arms crossed again — but softer this time.
"Aoi. Look at me."
Aoi forced his eyes up.
"You want to go."
Not a question.
A truth.
"I…" Aoi's throat tightened. "I don't want to abandon the team."
"You aren't abandoning anyone," the coach said firmly.
Aoi blinked. "…I'm not?"
Coach's voice softened — something that happened once every century.
"Aoi, I've coached you since you were shorter than the plate. I know how you think. You don't quit things. You don't run away from people." He paused. "But sometimes… staying in the same place can become its own kind of running."
Aoi stared at him.
The words hit deeper than he expected.
"Listen," Coach continued, "your team will survive without you."
Aoi flinched.
"That isn't an insult," Coach added. "It's a fact. They have to learn to stand without you eventually."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Coach placed a hand on Aoi's head, ruffling his curls roughly.
"You've grown too big for this pond, Aoi. Kose is a lake. You deserve a chance to swim in it."
Aoi felt something warm rise in his chest.
...Relief?
...Permission?
He wasn't sure.
But it loosened the knot that had been tightening for days.
---------------------
Of course, Masa found him the second he walked out of the teacher's office.
"AOI!" he shouted across the hall. "COACH TOLD ME EVERYTHING, YOU—"
"MASA STOP YELLING!"
But it was too late — every guy on the baseball team turned.
Here we go.
"Aoi… is it true?" one asked nervously. "You're… going to Kose?"
Aoi opened his mouth to give some careful, responsible answer — but Masa shoved him forward.
"YES, IT'S TRUE! AND YOU'D BETTER ALL BE HAPPY FOR HIM!"
Aoi slapped both hands over Masa's mouth. "STOP TALKING!"
But the team was already reacting.
Some looked shocked.
Some looked proud.
Some looked like they'd just been told a dog died.
And then someone asked the question Aoi feared most:
"Are you leaving us?"
Aoi's stomach twisted.
He opened his mouth — but the words didn't come.
He wasn't ready to say it.
Not out loud.
Not yet—
"No," Masa said suddenly. "He's not leaving us. He's growing. And if any of you have a problem with that, you can fight me."
"Masa—!"
"I mean it. I will throw hands."
But no one challenged him.
If anything… their expressions softened.
"Aoi… we're proud of you."
"You deserve it, man."
"Don't forget us when you're famous."
"BRING US BACK SOUVENIRS FROM KOSHIEN!"
Aoi's throat tightened.
He wanted to laugh.
He wanted to cry.
He wanted to sprint a marathon.
Something inside him finally loosened, like a rope starting to untangle.
Maybe… he wasn't betraying them after all.
Maybe chasing something big didn't mean abandoning the people who helped him get there.
---------------------
That night, Aoi stood alone on the same backyard grass where his anxiety always pulled him.
The air was cool.
The crickets hummed.
He placed his foot on the football again.
Then he looked at his left hand — his pitching hand.
It trembled.
Not with fear anymore.
But with anticipation.
He closed his eyes.
*Koshien...*
*A real mound…*
*Competition that would push him farther than anything before…*
He took a long, slow breath.
Then he whispered the decision he had avoided saying until now:
"…I'm going."
And for the first time, the knot in his chest finally unraveled — all at once.
He wasn't running away.
He was stepping forward.
And tomorrow, he would tell Takeda his answer.