The stadium pulsed with anticipation. Tens of thousands of fans filled the seats, their cheers rolling like thunder beneath the night sky. Flags waved in a blur of color, lights shimmered on the diamond, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with the energy of history in the making.
On the mound stood Dranred, the Fire Ace. His eyes were calm, but his pulse beat like a war drum beneath his chest. The smell of clay, sweat, and adrenaline surrounded him. Across the field, the Japanese team waited — the only obstacle between him and the dream he had chased for three long years.
He tightened his grip on the baseball.
This is it, he thought. This is what I promised her.
The first pitch flew like lightning. A sharp hiss cut through the air — strike one. The crowd erupted, a wave of cheers crashing through the stands. Dranred didn't flinch. His eyes stayed locked on the catcher's glove, his mind in perfect rhythm with every heartbeat.
Pitch after pitch, inning after inning, he held the line.
Japan fought fiercely — their hitters fast, their strategies cunning — but Dranred was faster. His arm burned, his fingers ached, yet his focus only sharpened. Each throw seemed to carve his determination into the field itself.
By the ninth inning, the scoreboard blazed: 3–2, with the National Team barely ahead. One wrong pitch, and the title would slip away.
Dranred stepped back onto the mound. Sweat slid down his temple. The noise of the crowd faded until all he could hear was his own breathing.
The batter stepped up — Japan's captain. A powerhouse hitter. The weight of the entire game rested on this moment.
Dranred wound up, his body twisting like a coiled spring. Then, with a sharp exhale, he let the ball fly.
Strike one.
The next — a curveball that kissed the edge of the plate.
Strike two.
The crowd was on its feet now, chanting his name.
He closed his eyes for half a second. For every promise I've made… for her.
Then he unleashed his final pitch — the Fire Ace Fastball, a blur of motion that no human eye could follow. The bat swung too late.
Strike three!
The umpire's call echoed through the arena — and the world erupted.
The National Team flooded the field, their cheers drowning out everything else. Fireworks exploded across the sky, red and gold cascading over the diamond. Dranred dropped to his knees, laughing and gasping for breath as the weight of three years lifted from his shoulders.
They had done it. Champions of the World.
His teammates surrounded him, shouting his name, lifting him high above their shoulders. Cameras flashed. Reporters screamed questions he couldn't even hear. He looked up at the roaring crowd — searching, always searching — and for a fleeting second, he imagined he saw Rosette among them, her smile brighter than any trophy.
He smiled back.
For you, he thought. Always for you.
The stadium still trembled with the echoes of victory. Confetti drifted through the air like falling stars, glinting in the floodlights. Cameras flashed from every angle, capturing the heroes of the night — the new World Champions.
At the center of it all stood Dranred, sweat still streaking his face, the world trophy gleaming in the hands of his teammates. The roar of the crowd refused to fade; every chant of his name thundered in his chest.
A reporter approached the mound, microphone trembling slightly with excitement.
"For the past three years," the reporter began, "you've made a name for yourself in baseball. There's no doubt — you're one of the best pitchers in the world. Your fans are dying to know… what's your secret? Especially since you used to be a basketball player. How did you make it here?"
The crowd quieted, waiting. The spotlight fell squarely on Dranred.
He gave a small, knowing smile. "My secret, huh?"
The reporter grinned back. "That's right! Everyone here wants to know — what's the secret of the great Fire Ace?"
But Dranred didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze drifted past the cameras and microphones, past the reporters and his cheering teammates. His eyes swept across the ocean of faces filling the arena, searching.
The noise began to fade — the crowd's roar dulled into a heartbeat in his ears.
Somewhere out there, he knew, she was watching.
Then he saw her.
In the audience stand, amidst waving flags and flashing lights, Rosette sat with her friends, a small box resting carefully on her lap — the same box he had given her three years ago.
The moment their eyes met, everything else disappeared.
Dranred's voice softened, barely above a whisper, but the microphone caught every word.
"It's not a secret."
The reporter blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Dranred's lips curved into a wide smile — the kind of smile that told the world he had found exactly what he'd been looking for.
Cameras swung toward the direction of his gaze. And then, on the giant stadium screens, Rosette's face appeared.
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Cheers erupted a second later.
The reporter called after him, but Dranred was already moving — stepping off the mound, weaving through reporters, climbing the steps toward the stands. His teammates laughed and shouted behind him.
"This guy," Nathan muttered, shaking his head.
"Give up, Nathan," one teammate said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Those two were meant to be together."
"Go get her, Mr. Fire Ace!" another shouted, raising his cap.
Even the coach, watching from the dugout, chuckled under his breath.
"It's love," he said dreamily. "That's his secret. It's always been love."
The cameras followed Dranred all the way to the audience, broadcasting every step across the massive screens. Fans leaned forward, breathless.
When he reached her row, Rosette stood, startled, clutching the box tighter. "Red…" she whispered.
He stopped in front of her, his chest still rising and falling from the game, eyes shining in the glare of the lights. Around them, the crowd had gone utterly silent.
"You actually brought it," he said softly, his gaze dropping to the box in her hands.
"You told me to," she murmured, flustered. "But—what are you doing? Everyone's watching. This is embarrassing…"
Dranred only smiled — that same boyish, unstoppable smile — and took a step closer. The cameras zoomed in, the crowd roaring again.
In that instant, with the entire world watching, the Fire Ace forgot the noise, the lights, and the endless glory of the game.
There was only her — the reason he had endured every defeat, every doubt, and every lonely night.