"Spring Koshien Champion, huh? That's incredible."
"Kōshū, congratulations."
"Senior Kōshū, congratulations on winning Spring Koshien. I could feel my blood boiling even through the TV."
"Kid, you and Lang Zhi are both first-rate men. It's all because of my high blood pressure that I couldn't come cheer for you in person. Still, I watched every Spring Koshien game, and they were wonderful! Keep working hard from here on out. The world of baseball is still vast, so don't get arrogant because of this." That tone could only have belonged to Grandpa Sasaki. Since his health had declined, the stubbornness in his personality had withered as well. Mr. Sasaki wouldn't let him come to the venue, so he truly didn't come—but his old-fashioned manner could still be felt through his words.
Kōshū held his phone as he sat on the ride back to Seido, while an overwhelming flood of messages filled his inbox.
There was one from the unbearably smug Hongo: "Congratulations. It's still 2-1. Later."
"Tch." Kōshū couldn't suppress the smile tugging at his lips. It seemed Hongo still couldn't quite straighten out his feelings. But he had remembered those comforting words: You won two out of three games. What are you dissatisfied with?
There would be plenty more games in the future. A careless remark seemed to have become an unspoken agreement between them: during high school, who would win more matchups against the other?
Though one of them was in Hokkaido and the other in Tokyo, they had very few chances to meet in official games. Just to face each other, they first had to clear out the opponents in their respective prefectures, then eliminate the strong teams from other prefectures at Koshien or Meiji Jingu before they could truly clash.
Lowering his head, Kōshū typed a reply.