DNA: Under The Sun

"How should I put it… it felt like Seidou's win came a bit too easily," Owada Akiko murmured, eyes drifting to the scoreboard. Even though the game had already ended, the whole thing still felt surreal.

Mine Fujio, watching Rinichi being surrounded by teammates, stayed quiet for a moment before adding: "Komadai's four pitchers were all fairly mature… and while Seidou does have Tanba, in truth… it was only Kamishiro who could completely suppress their lineup. His presence—both on the mound and at the plate—was what carried and inspired his teammates."

Both teams quickly tidied up and lined up for the customary salute.

The losing side cried bitterly.

Nothing stings more than losing when victory is so close within reach.

There wasn't even a chance for Komadai and Seidou to shake hands before reporters swarmed in.

And in the middle of that storm, the one most surrounded by cameras and questions was Rinichi.

Flashbulbs snapped nonstop, drowning out any glimpse of the defeated side.

The victors wore smiles—joy, excitement.

The losers showed tears—sorrow, frustration.

The contrast couldn't be starker.

Winners would never weep for the defeated, and losers would never rejoice in their opponent's triumph.

Thus, the stage of summer came to its close.

As the crowd dispersed and the stadium emptied, Komadai's ace, Hongou Masamune, stood off to the side, clenching his cap so tightly his knuckles went white. His face twisted, not with tears, but with something far more frightening.

"Let's go, Hongou!"

His upperclassmen urged him forward.

Snapping out of his daze, he turned slowly, his resolute figure swallowed by the darkness as he walked away.

...

That night, after soaking in the hot spring, the Seidou team was treated to a lavish banquet.

The long tables were filled with dish after dish, each platter more extravagant than the last. Just looking at the spread was enough to lift anyone's spirits.

One by one, the third-years piled food onto Rinichi's plate.

"You'd better finish all of it."

Rinichi: "…"

It felt like a dream. Probably their last gesture of affection before graduation.

He stayed silent.

"Eh? Is our love too heavy for you?" Kuramochi teased, leaning in with the air of a thug cornering a civilian.

Rinichi: "…"

Well… it was heavy. But he shook his head furiously. Denial was the only way out here.

Kuramochi slung an arm around his shoulder and whispered, "Don't overthink it. Just enjoy the feast."

Rinichi froze, then nodded.

Soon after, the third-years started chanting:

"Kamishiro! Give us a performance!"

Rinichi: "…"

...

The next day, the team returned to school. Some players even stayed behind to train on their own.

With the third-years leaving, countless roster spots would open up. Competition would be fierce.

Even just securing a backup slot on the First String had always been brutal—now, with so many positions vacated, the pressure would only intensify.

After a short two-day break, training would resume.

That night, everyone gathered in Miyuki's dorm room, playing games and chess, laughter echoing.

But amidst the fun, Isashiki draped an arm over Rinichi's shoulders and told the second-years:

"Don't let Kamishiro carry this team alone. You're the upperclassmen here."

The second-years fell silent, then answered in unison.

Rinichi was strong—undeniably. But for Seidou to truly shine, the team had to rise to his level.

Even after claiming the Summer Koshien title, the Spring Koshien still awaited them.

Their brief sense of relief vanished instantly.

"You know," Ryousuke said with a smile, "if you let yourselves believe that just relying on Kamishiro alone is enough to win Koshien, then this won't be a real team anymore."

"Besides," Chris added quietly, "living under Kamishiro's light… isn't easy. If you don't want people to think this is only his team, you'll have to prove otherwise yourselves."

The room fell silent again.

Miyuki's eyes narrowed.

It was true. Rinichi's brilliance was so overwhelming that unless the others reached higher, they'd always be overshadowed.

"Alright, enough heavy talk. Tonight is for fun!" one of the third-years broke in cheerfully.

"Yeah, cheer up!" Isashiki barked with a scowl.

Everyone: "…"

(You're the one who started it…)

....

The following morning, the dorms felt emptier.

The third-years moved out, including Masuko.

For Rinichi, it felt like something precious had gone missing.

Though they'd still meet around campus, the dorms no longer felt the same.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Rinichi yawned and dragged himself up. The room was quiet—no Masuko, no Kuramochi. Just him.

He opened his desk drawer absentmindedly.

His eyes fell on the words written at the top of a form:

"Withdrawal Application."

Silence.

He had only played high school baseball to carry the wishes of Shinomiya—to win the national championship in their stead.

And now that dream had already been realized… there didn't seem to be any real meaning in continuing to play baseball.

That was what Rinichi thought.

His mind was in turmoil, scattered and restless.

With a frustrated shove, he closed the drawer and left the dormitory to wash up.

Skipping breakfast, still in slippers, his hair slightly messy from sleep.

As expected, most of the team was already out on the field, training on their own.

He was probably the only one who slept this late and wandered out as if taking a stroll—especially on a supposed rest day.

Rinichi sat in the corner of the stairs, resting his cheek against his palm, traces of drowsiness still in his eyes.

Last night, he had stayed up late playing around with the seniors.

He yawned again.

When he lifted his gaze, he noticed the seats around him were filled with graduates—upperclassmen who had already left the team, yet remained loyal fans of Seidou.

Blending into the crowd, Rinichi was almost invisible, just another quiet figure lost among the spectators. No one spared him a glance.

Only when his stomach began to growl did he get up, deciding to grab breakfast.

But at this hour, the cafeteria was already empty. His only option was the vending machine, where he bought a piece of bread and a bottle of milk.

He sat off to the side, quietly eating.

Soon after, he tossed the empty wrapper and bottle into the trash and returned to the dormitory.

His mind was completely blank.

And when he finally came back to himself, he realized his hands were holding a white jacket—emblazoned with the words "Seidou" across the chest.

He fell silent.

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