Of those caught up in the concepts "pride of Saitama" and "national source of Pride," Haruna Motoki might arguably be among the most ardently attentive, since these words of inspiration, as predictable and as boring as some might say they were, held a lot of meaning for him
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Junta was bored. He'd had almost no sweets at lunch, and his energy was low, and he wasn't really that motivated to listen to this speech after he felt like he'd let his team and Kazu down during that game against Nishiura. The last time he'd been in this auditorium, he'd been thinking that they would make it to the best-eight easily, that they could even take Koushien again that year, and then it had taken three innings against that team of first years before he woke up and started really playing.
It could've been worse, though. Kazu was at cram school most of the time, but at least he was back to talking with the team, and Riou had been eager to try his hand at the regular catcher's spot. It wasn't as though the team wasn't going to change if they'd won, eventually.
Junta shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out under the seat in front of him, and nudged shoulders with the guy sitting next to him. He hoped another bad joke would be quick in coming, because seeing who laughed at those things always got Junta to join in
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It could've been worse, though. Kazu was at cram school most of the time, but at least he was back to talking with the team, and Riou had been eager to try his hand at the regular catcher's spot. It wasn't as though the team wasn't going to change if they'd won, eventually.
Junta shifted in his chair, stretching his legs out under the seat in front of him, and nudged shoulders with the guy sitting next to him. He hoped another bad joke would be quick in coming, because seeing who laughed at those things always got Junta to join in ( ... )
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