　Misuzu had no interest in baseball. She didn’t even know the rules. And since the team was weak, she had never expected anything from A High School’s baseball club. Even so, Misuzu understood that “Koshien” was something special—a crystallization of blood, sweat, dreams, and tears for the young players.

　By lottery, Misuzu was forced to attend the first round of the regional qualifiers as a supporter. Reluctantly, she went to the stadium. The seats at the local ballpark were hard concrete, and enduring the pain in her backside was more difficult than cheering. She cheered half-heartedly, but A High School won the game. A High School, which lost in the first round every year, had won.

　She could picture the students who had drawn the second-round cheering duty and were celebrating, thinking, “Looks like I won’t have to go cheer this year.” Misuzu pitied them, thinking, “Too bad you ended up having to go.”

　On the day they were to head to Koshien, all students gathered in their classrooms at 8 a.m.

　The classroom was noisy.

　When Misuzu entered, the homeroom teacher greeted her.

“Good morning, Watarai.”

“Good morning,” Misuzu replied, and the teacher checked her name off the list.

　Several boys wearing green cheering T-shirts were already shouting, “Let’s go, smash it!”

“Good morning, Misuzu,” said Tamae Sumi, her classmate sitting beside her.

“Good morning, Tamae.”

“Aren’t you going to wear your T-shirt?”

“Everyone’s already wearing theirs?”

“Well, it’s midsummer at Koshien. You’ll get heatstroke.”

　Misuzu went to the restroom, took off her uniform shirt, and put on the T-shirt. When she returned to the classroom, she bumped into Tabuchi-kun.

“Tabuchi-kun! You’re always late,” the homeroom teacher said, tapping him lightly on the head.

　Tabuchi hunched his shoulders and muttered, “Sorry,” before taking his seat. He was still wearing his white uniform shirt.

　His seat was in front of Misuzu’s. As he sat down, Tamae mimicked the teacher’s tone: “Tabuchi-kun! You’re always late.”

“Shut up! Why do we have to gather so early anyway? The game doesn’t start until 2:30 p.m., right?”

“It’s because of people like you that we have to gather early. What if we don’t make it in time to cheer?” the teacher replied, having overheard Tabuchi’s complaint.

“Even if I go cheer, it won’t make a difference. The players are the ones fighting out there,” Tabuchi grumbled in a whisper.

“You stayed up late on your computer again, didn’t you? You really need to stop that!” Tamae scolded him sharply, like a mother.

“But the program was finally working. I couldn’t stop.”

“If only you studied with that much passion.”

“Whatever. I’m just going to sleep on the bus today.”

　Misuzu also felt the gathering time was early, but maybe it was better to be early than late. She understood the teacher’s concern.

　The speaker chimed with a “ping-pong-pan” melody.

“Attention all students. Attention all students. The buses have now arrived. Homeroom teachers, please check attendance. Once your class is confirmed, proceed to the schoolyard.”

　After the teacher called out names and confirmed attendance, Misuzu and the others headed to the schoolyard and boarded the bus. Even on the bus, the teacher continued checking headcount.