"Dad, what do you think?"
Though he brought it up, Shinomiya Un'yo turned to look at his father in the wheelchair.
"Third son, you made this mess—you deal with it."
Shinomiya Oko, speaking like a true eldest brother, scolded him.
The Shinomiya family's money would eventually be his. He had no intention of spending it to clean up Un'yo's mess.
"Aren't I part of the Shinomiya family?"
Un'yo shot back.
He wasn't planning on gambling with his money.
As long as his old man was still alive, of course he'd spend from the family's purse.
That cliché of a spoiled rich kid being provoked into betting in some novel? That wasn't happening here.
In truth, very few real rich kids are that dumb.
"Oh, so you do remember you're part of the Shinomiya family? All those scandals you caused—don't think we forgot."
"What scandals?"
"That incident with that B-list actress last time—do you have any idea how much trouble you caused?"
Hearing the argument between Oko and Un'yo, Kaguya felt thoroughly embarrassed.
As her father's health declined, her eldest and third brothers didn't even bother pretending anymore.
"Enough!"
As the argument heated up, Shinomiya Gan'an finally spoke.
His voice wasn't loud—actually, it sounded a little weak—but it instantly silenced both Koko and Yune.
As long as their father was alive, Oko could only remain the crown prince.
"I'll take the bet."
Gan'an spoke slowly.
"But I want to change the terms."
"Grandpa Shinomiya, go ahead—what would you like to change it to?"
Hitomi asked with an innocent, sweet smile, calling him "Grandpa" like they were close.
But behind the scenes, she always referred to him as that old bastard.
"If I win, you'll give Takashi to Kaguya."
"Father?!"
Kaguya was stunned.
Come on! You were betting on something else—why drag her into this?
Hitomi, who had been giggling moments ago, instantly stopped smiling.
"Old bastard, are you looking to die?"
Hitomi was burning with a murderous intent.
She wasn't pretending anymore.
Shinomiya Gan'an fell silent. He calmly met Hitomi's gaze, waiting for her response.
"Takashi will never be a bargaining chip for me. Never."
After a long pause, Hitomi spoke in a low voice.
"In this life, he can only belong to me, Yozakura Hitomi."
"Even if I die, I won't let anyone else have him."
If she ever died—
She would be the first to order someone to kill Takashi, to have him die before her.
Even in hell, she would drag him down with her.
That was the kind of love Hitomi had—extreme, insane, and possessive.
"Is that so?"
Shinomiya Gan'an looked deeply at her, and suddenly, he smiled.
"What a coincidence. Our Shinomiya family also has our eyes on Takashi."
"When our family wants someone or something, we get it no matter what."
"Hitomi, you'd better watch carefully."
Hitomi clenched the armrest of her chair tightly, wishing she could kill that old bastard right now.
…
On the field—
"Runners on first and second."
"Next up, the third batter from Advanced Nurturing—Koenji Rokusuke."
"So far in the Koshien tournament, Koenji Rokusuke has already hit six home runs and three base hits."
"Let's see how he handles this pitch."
Koenji Rokusuke stepped up to the batter's box, bat resting on his shoulder.
He stood there with a lazy posture, arrogant and indifferent—completely unathletic, showing no passion, not even acknowledging his opponents.
Yet the pressure he exuded on Momodani Yao was real.
It was as if the sun had suddenly drawn nearer, heating up his whole body.
"So this is the kind of monster Kitahara's been facing all along...?"
Under the scorching 37°C heat, Momodani was drenched in sweat, on the verge of heatstroke.
But more suffocating than the heat was the overwhelming pressure from Advanced Nurturing High's team.
Every single pitch he threw was getting hit.
And this was even when the opposing batters weren't going all out.
'I really am not like Kitahara-senpai…'
Momodani was playing injured today.
His right arm still hadn't recovered, but with the team at the brink of elimination, he felt he had to step up.
So he returned to the mound.
He had rested for more than ten days. While he couldn't perform at full strength, he thought he could at least deliver 70–80%.
He believed he could hold the line for a few innings until Takashi came on.
But he didn't even last one.
The other team scored 7 runs—and that was only because his teammates fought hard on defense.
If not for their effort, he might've given up even more.
Advanced Nurturing was just like their school's teaching philosophy—disjointed individuals who, when united, became a mess.
But individually, they were terrifying.
They simply weren't in the same league.
'So this is what a genius looks like…?'
Momodani vaguely remembered—once upon a time, he was called a genius too.
But on a bigger stage, one filled with true prodigies, he was painfully average.
'I really envy Kitahara…'
Momodani desperately wished he could be like Takashi—able to change the course of a game by himself.
But he wasn't.
He came to Aoba High—his father's alma mater—bearing the title of genius, hoping to fulfill a dream his father never realized.
Yet every year, they were knocked out in the first round of Koshien.
Just as he was ready to graduate with regrets, Takashi burst onto the scene—shining brightly in the summer tournament, leading them all the way to the finals.
Now that the dream was right in front of him, how could he give up?
Taking several deep breaths, Momodani calmed himself and stared straight at Koenji Rokusuke.
'So what if I'm not a genius?'
He placed his fingers along the side of the ball.
Lifting his leg, he drew his arm back for a powerful throw.
'As long as we win, that's all that matters!'
'We have to end this summer with smiles on our faces.'
At the moment of the pitch, he snapped his fingers across the seams, causing the ball to spin and dive sharply.
'Got it!'
Momodani felt a flash of excitement.
He thought it was the best breaking ball he'd thrown all game.
"Ohhh, that's a beautiful sl—" Bang!
Before Suzuki Ichiro could finish his commentary, Koenji Rokusuke smashed the ball with one swing, then casually dropped his bat and jogged toward first base.
By the time everyone's eyes followed the ball again, it had already soared past the infield into the outfield.
"Home run!"
"Takagenji blasts a home run, widening the lead to 8 points!"
Aoba fans watched in near despair as the scoreboard displayed the shocking number:
2:10.
All the effort to narrow the gap—undone in an instant.
"Coach, let me go in."
This time, Takashi couldn't sit still anymore.
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