"Oh, that takes me back. I was in a play when I was in middle school. This is the picture my father took of me in the lead role. The cat boy—he was my first love. He's kind of cute, isn't he? It's nice that you can say such things lightly as you get older. Oh and that—that's not a spotlight. When we did a performance, there was a big hole in the gymnasium roof, and that's the light coming in. I look pretty tall, don't I? I was the tallest in the class then, you know. And the glasses, they were…"
A couple of days later, class one of the sixth grade at Mabase Elementary School performed Puss in Boots.
The tension mounted as the sound of the announcer's voice and the echo of applause filled the hall.
Ninamori was at the side of the stage dressed in costume, waiting for her entrance. In the end, it was decided that the play would be performed with Ninamori in the lead role. No one in the class ever mentioned the rigging of the votes again.
There wasn't sufficient evidence to prosecute Ninamori's father, either, so he continued as city mayor. Ninamori didn't completely object to her father's shameless attitude, however. She was his daughter, so she would grow up more brazen than her father ever was.
"You cheated to get the lead role?"
"You became a robotic monster and ran amuck?"
Ninamori's father had told her she should transfer if she didn't like all the rumors that were going around, but Ninamori stayed in town. That was Eri Ninamori's decision at the age of twelve.
"You'll do wonderfully, Ninamori," Miyaji encouraged her.
Ninamori nodded.
Dressed as the cat, Naota seemed surprised when he saw Ninamori's face. She was wearing glasses. The role of the Marquis de Carabas didn't require glasses, so why was she performing wearing the very glasses she'd tried to hide before?
Ninamori poked her finger through the rim of the glasses, showing Naota there were no lenses. They were fake.
Why? Not understanding, Naota cocked his head.
Suddenly, a bell rang and the curtain lifted.
Ready to play the part she'd rehearsed to perfection, Ninamori took a step out onto the stage.
Full Swing
Chapter 1
On a cool, breezy autumn afternoon, Naota Nandaba was sitting on a bench on the first-base side of the baseball field near Mabase River, waiting for his turn to bat.
The uniform Naota was wearing was that of the town's amateur baseball team, the Mabase Martians. Their opponents that day were the Umaguma Fragments, their fated rivals from the next town over.
The game was in the throes of its final innings, and the Martians were at bat. The scoreboard showed that the Fragments had a large lead against the opposing Martians, who had yet to score a run.
"This is pathetic," commented old man Shigekuni, who sat on the bench wearing a Martians uniform. Naota's grandfather, Shigekuni, was the Mabase Martians' coach.
Although they were now perennial bottom-dwellers, the Martians were a legendary team around the time they'd entered the local amateur baseball league, as they'd formerly monopolized the top spot. The old players' proudest moment had been in 1988, when they'd defeated PL Gakuen, the strongest school historically, in a practice game. (It was all talk, however. No one could be sure if it'd actually happened.) At the time, their team had been dominated by their ace pitcher and cleanup hitter, Shigekuni.
The reason Naota had come on as a substitute player for his grandfather's amateur league team was essentially because Shigekuni had forced him into it.
"This is really pathetic. The Martians lineup used to be compared to the eruption of the active volcano Mount Olympus. Now, we can't even score one run."
This season, the Martians were at the bottom of the league again. As the winter progressed, they would continue rewriting the record for most time spent at the bottom. Their best hope was to win the three-game series against the Fragments that started today, which meant their longstanding rivals would have to repeatedly lose against the Martians.
"Although you said it wouldn't make a difference," the player who was sitting next to Shigekuni said unsupportively, "I think we expected more out of the sub."
Upon hearing the player's comment, Naota, who was sitting on one side of the bench, began to feel uncomfortable. The thing was, each time Naota had batted, he'd struck out—when he was looking, no less.
"That sub hasn't swung the bat once!"
"Active volcano? More like a dormant volcano."
The players complained, each adding something more insulting than the previous remark. They started griping about how they were always going to be losers, and that their offensive rhythm had gone out of whack when Naota was inserted into the lineup.
Shigekuni gazed at Naota with disappointed eyes.
It was never meant to be, Naota thought, wearing his hand-me-down uniform. Fully aware of his own batting inability, it wasn't a complete surprise that he'd struck out. What was surprising was the difference in expectations that his teammates had of him.
Shigekuni had pressured Naota into joining the team, claiming that the sport was "amateur baseball," but the teams were full of adults. An elementary school kid like Naota was bound to be ridiculed for being filler, and would probably be relegated to playing right field and ninth. A substitute player was merely another head to meet player requirements.
Naota failed to grasp the impact his revered brother Tasuku, who was now in America playing baseball, had left on this amateur baseball team from a very young age. Tasuku had been a legendary boy substitute who'd pulled off miraculous wins for the team time and time again, when he was even younger than Naota was now.
As soon as Tasuku had entered middle school, he became busy with his own sports activities, so the amateur baseball team had refrained from asking him to be a substitute. There was a sustained tragic plea from the weakening team for the great Tasuku to return, though.
Ultimately, the team's plea was in vain, as Tasuku had gone to America. Eventually, the team had started talking about the existence of Naota, Tasuku's younger brother. They'd heard he always walked around with a bat, and those who saw him became fired up with great expectations.
"The little brother of the genius baseball player Tasuku Nandaba still carries a bat around with him. The moment we've prayed for is here…" And so it went: Suddenly, Naota had the cleanup spot, and a lot of overblown expectations placed upon him.
The reality was that Naota's baseball skills, even among boys his own age, weren't particularly high. Actually, the truth was that they were pretty low. Naota knew this, of course—that's why as soon as he learned he'd be wearing his brother's uniform and number, he got a sinking feeling. Naota became easily frustrated if people he interacted with on a daily basis held a low opinion of him. Being expected to do great things in an unfamiliar territory and ultimately failing was an especially brutal kind of agony.
The third batter had struck out, and it was Naota's turn to bat. Standing in the batter's box, he gripped the special bat he'd brought. Because Naota always carried his brother's bat, everyone expected him to be as good at baseball as his brother was. However, aside from one practice swing, Naota had never swung the bat during a game. The special bat was only for holding. Naota's swing wasn't even something his brother had taught him; it was something he'd made up himself.