FLCL

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.

I'm sorry I'm a dormant volcano, Naota thought remorsefully.

He could hear supporters' voices coming from the bench.

'Whack it, Tasuku's brother!'

'Just get on base, Tasuku's brother!'

Not one person called Naota by his name. His name in this game was simply 'Tasuku's brother.'

Out of nowhere, a terrifying fastball came hurtling toward Naota, who remained uncomfortably in his stance. Exactly like his other times at bat, he couldn't do anything except stand there with his bat in hand and watch the ball fly by.

'Strike!' the umpire shouted.

The opposing team's bench applauded.

Naota stared at the pitcher, who was grinning menacingly, and attempted to catch his breath. The Fragments' pitcher was, surprisingly, Haruko Haruhara.

Haruko, who'd become the Nandabas' housemaid, was dressed in a Fragments uniform and faced Naota on the mound. Feeling full of herself, Haruko blew a kiss to her supporters on the bench, causing the old men on the opposing team to go wild with joy. They were lovestruck. Haruko and her aged admirers were just like a pop star and her fan club.

The tall Haruko had a great style, and her uniformed figure certainly was attractive. It wasn't a big surprise that old men would enjoy watching her move around, throwing and batting as she played. In fact, every motion Haruko's arms and legs made completely captivated men of all ages on the Martians bench. Observing the scene, Naota felt somewhat proud of her. The same Haruko everyone was admiring lived with Naota in his room and had even performed CPR on him. The roommates had a special relationship, and when Naota remembered that, feelings of superiority managed to overtake his feelings of futility.

'Strike two!' the umpire yelled.

As expected, Naota hadn't moved an inch in response to the second pitch. Anyone could see that he didn't intend to swing. His own team was heckling him with questions like, 'What on Earth do you think you're doing?'

From Naota's point of view, Haruko Haruhara was a monster that had fought strange robots to draws or victory. He wasn't even considering trying to hit a ball thrown by that fiend. Regardless of whether he could follow the pitch with his eyes, there was no way Naota was going to be able to hit the ball. There wasn't any point in attempting the impossible—that was all there was to it.

Haruko's control was also good. Up until now, Naota had gone down with three pitches, which meant that he'd suffered three strikes each time at bat.

At least I'm smart enough to realize it's useless, Naota reasoned. Nobody here knows how amazing this girl is. I'm the only one…

Staring at Haruko's form as she threw the ball post-windup, Naota's vision suddenly went black. His body felt light, and soon, he felt a blunt, heavy pain in his head. No, don't tell me 'that' started again! What he feared was the extraordinary spectacle of a robot coming out of his head. Naota feared that the process had begun again (which had recently become an obsessive habit that he couldn't snap out of).

As soon as the umpire called out, 'Take your base!' Naota began to understand the situation.