Two weeks have passed since the abduction. The atmosphere among Seido was strained, draping over the team like a viscous fog. Their captain, as well as four other fundamental members of the first string, disappeared without a trace. Their absence left a gaping hole. The feeling was vastly different as opposed to when the previous third years retired. While it was heartbreaking not being able to play on the same team with them, at least they were reassured they were moving on to additional schooling and building career opportunities. It was grating, the uncertainty and the unknown. They were drifting in limbo, unable to do anything, but wait.

The police force swiftly got involved, armed with helicopters and dogs, in the chance they were in an outside location or if they managed to flee their captivity and were on the run. Their faces have been plastered everywhere, from the news to flyers tapped to the windows of convenience stores; it was nigh impossible to miss the headlines. Citizens were informed to keep an open eye and ear out; however, without any information on who kidnapped them, there wasn't a lot of optimism. It has become one of the top missing person cases in Japan in more recent years.

No one wished to consider the prospect of finding their bodies. In some cases, no news was good news. No news meant there was still a chance of them being alive, a meager possibility of finding them and bringing them to safety. Though, of course, many people already wrote them off as dead. While updates were dreaded, it was partially a relief to hear that their bodies hadn't washed up in the Sumida River.

There was a theory circulating that they had merely run away. People claim it as a rebellious phase, and they'll return when they recognize that it's not so straightforward to roam the streets. The people that knew them, however, understood that was never a possibility. Those that knew them personally knew they were too preoccupied with baseball to consider taking an excursion on the streets for the thrill. The notion was ridiculous. They lived and breathed the sport. They had worked long and hard to get to where they are, and would never walk away and abandon it.

It was immensely difficult for their teammates to continue as usual. As if all were normal. As if some of their team members weren't in a dire situation or didn't require aid. How does one efficiently go about their daily life when their friends are missing? The more time that passes, the more the worry grows. They waited with bated breath for any news. Coach Kataoka had been running drills with an extra firm hand, which served a fraction in distracting them during practices. However, there were perpetually little moments that would surface where they collectively knew something - more like someone - was missing. At many intervals, the practice was too quiet. They had grown accustomed to the sound of bickering and yelling throughout the day, despite how extensive the session. And with their captain and one of their vice-captains gone, Maezono had a rather large void to fill. No one wanted to consider re-electing captaincy.

Many of the teams that played against Seido couldn't help but stay up-to-date on the news. While they may not have known them personally, they know of them. Knew how they played, and could even recognize their dedication to baseball. It was easy for them to see, as it was a shared trait amongst the community, despite schools or regions. Knowing that something as radical as a kidnapping happening so close in proximity was alarming, and brought to question; why them? Was it deliberate, or random? If it was premeditated, did that mean it could have been any of them? Could it still be any one of them? The entire situation brought to light more questions than answers.

Unfortunately, there was nothing anyone could do but wait.