"Aoba has lost two batters in a row! This is dangerous—can their third batter hold up under pressure?"
Kento Yusakura walked off the field, visibly irritated. As he handed off to the third batter, he quickly shared what he'd observed:
"His cutter is fast. The ball rises slightly, then drops sharply. Just before it hits the strike zone, it'll veer hard to the outside. It skirts the line between a strike and a ball—don't swing recklessly."
In baseball, a "ball" can still be hit.
A "ball" is simply a pitch that misses the strike zone.
Batters can choose to swing at it, and if they hit and run to first base, it counts as a valid hit.
But if they miss, that "ball" becomes a strike.
Kento Yusakura hadn't expected Yuta Shitada to be so bold—to throw that kind of pitch right from the start.
"I understand."
Takeshi Katsuta jogged up, bat in hand, and got into position.
Yuta Shitada glanced at his team's dugout.
There, Yukinoshita Yukino stood in a sharp black suit, arms folded.
Her long black hair, tied into a ponytail with a black satin ribbon, swayed gently with her movements.
Her snow-white skin looked even purer against the black suit.
Her slender frame and androgynous fashion, paired with her beautifully sharp features, made her charm impossible to ignore.
"Wow, she's so cool!"
"I think I'm in love."
"What do I do? I think I might be okay with girls after all."
"If both Aoba's silver-haired boy and Sobu 's girl were chasing me, who would I choose?"
"You're really dreaming now."
As the camera zoomed in on Yukino, the girls in the stadium blushed, pressed their legs together, and looked like they were about to faint.
Right now, Yukino was irresistibly attractive to girls.
Ignoring everyone's stares, she raised four fingers.
Yuta Shitada immediately understood her signal: intentionally walk him—four balls.
There was a reason for Yukino's call.
Takeshi Katsuta was Aoba's power hitter—he frequently hit home runs at Koshien.
Aoba's consistent appearances in Koshien were thanks to their powerful batting lineup.
Among them, Katsuta was their strongest slugger. His hitting ability needed no explanation.
Giving him a walk only puts him on first base—not a run.
In baseball, to score, the batter must run from home to first, second, third, and finally back to home plate.
But if he hits, he might just slam a home run.
Better to give him one base than one point—Yukino understood this well.
As a pitcher, intentionally walking someone is a humiliating move.
If this weren't about a year of effort from his teammates or his own future, he'd want to go head-to-head with Katsuta.
But now wasn't the time for pride. If it meant winning, Yuta Shitada would do anything.
Decision made, Yuta Shitada threw a ball.
"Ball one!"
Katsuta judged correctly and didn't swing.
"Ball two!"
"Ball three!"
"Ball four!"
After four straight balls, Katsuta slowly put down his bat and walked to first base.
"Damn it!"
Though Katsuta had successfully gotten on base, Amatani Kensuke didn't look pleased.
He had already figured out what Yuta Shida was planning.
Knowing it was one thing—stopping it was another.
After Otani Shota got injured, hidden problems began to surface.
That third batter position was originally supposed to be filled by Otani Shota.
Amatani Kensuke had planned to have Katsuta bat fourth, but due to Otani's injury, he had no choice but to move Musashi up to third.
Currently batting fourth is Furuotani Taiga.
He wasn't weak, but compared to Otani Shota and Takeshi Katsuta, he was still lacking.
"Swing with all your might, it's only the first inning, don't worry too much."
Amatani Kensuke consoled Furuotani Taiga, hoping to ease his nerves.
"We can still catch up later."
Yukinoshita Yukino's initial strategy worked perfectly.
It worked so well that it briefly suppressed them.
But to say these two teams were evenly matched? Amatani Kensuke didn't think so.
Because he saw three advantages.
First, this was Sobu's first time playing at Koshien, while Aoba was a regular. Their mentalities were on completely different levels.
Right now the advantage might not be obvious, but once they fall behind, will Sobu still be able to maintain their composure?
It's like playing games with your buddies: everything's all laughs when you're winning, but dead silence when you're losing.
Whether a team is strong or not depends on their mindset when things go wrong, not when they're in control.
Aoba could definitely handle the pressure, but Sobu? That was uncertain. That's the first win.
Second, Sobu's ability to hold down Aoba was mainly due to Aoba's unfamiliarity with them.
Once they get used to this team, the tide will turn completely.
That's the second win.
Third, Sobu has Yuta Shitada, but Aoba has Kitahara Takashi.
So far, Yuta Shitada's top pitch speed is only 148 km/h.
Takashi starts at 150.
What does that mean?
It means their strongest pitch is still slower than Kitahara's regular throw.
That's the third win.
This was also why Amatani Kensuke wasn't in a rush to adjust his strategy.
The advantage lay with Aoba.
"Takashi, bottom of the fifth, you're up."
Amatani Kensuke turned back to remind Takashi.
On the bench, Takashi rested his elbow on his knee, chin in hand, silently watching Yuta Shitada on the mound while mentally simulating how he would hit his pitch.
"Mm."
After the mental simulation, Takashi estimated that if it were him up there, he had over an 80% chance of making contact.
He had the physical ability to match, and when practicing at the batting cages, the machine never pitched below 150 km/h.
Even if Yuta Shitada had a wide array of pitching techniques, could his breaking balls really be more varied than Ichiro Suzuki's?
Even if Ichiro was retired, Yuta Shitada—who had never even played professionally—couldn't compare.
"Ah, he hit it!"
The situation on the field improved.
Thanks to the experience learned by the first and second batters and his own observations, Furuotani Taiga managed to hit the ball on his third attempt.
Unfortunately, it was a bunt.
"A grounder! Can Furuotani turn this into a chance and make it to first base?"
As Furuotani batted the ball, he sprinted for first, while Takeshi Katsuta on first base made for second.
The ball bounced along the ground, and Yuta Shitada sprinted after it.
'I can't let it stop here!'
Yuta Shitada grabbed the ball off the ground and threw it hard toward the second baseman.
Before Takeshi Katsuta could reach second, the second baseman caught the ball firmly and tagged him out.
Then the second baseman spun around and threw the ball to first.
"Ahhhhh!!!"
Just as the ball reached the first baseman, Furuotani Taiga dove forward, hand outstretched toward the base.
Right before his palm could touch the bag, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
His heart sank.
It was a tag out!
The umpire blew the whistle, signaling that both Furuotani Taiga and Takeshi Katsuta were out.
Top of the first inning, Aoba's score: zero.
Furuotani Taiga lay on the ground, pounded the dirt hard, then quickly stood up.
"A beautiful double play!"
"A perfect collaboration!"
"Sobu's players just double-played the reigning champions of Tokyo—Aoba."
"As long as you work hard, your dreams won't betray you. It's this fighting spirit that makes baseball exciting!"
The commentator passionately shouted into the mic.
Yuta Shitada clenched his right fist and punched the air.
"Nice!"
"Go, Shida! Take down all of Aoba!"
"Step over Aoba and stand at the top!"
...
That win in the first half got Sobu's cheering students riled up.
Even the volume of their chants grew noticeably louder.
'I scored the first point.'
Yukino smirked slightly, proudly glancing toward the bench at Takashi.
Yes.
Their team's overall strength truly didn't match up to Aoba.
No ace pitcher, no powerhouse batting lineup, yet this group still managed to shake the reigning kings of Tokyo.
'Takashi, I'm going to completely invalidate your beliefs.'
Yukino's determined eyes burned with conviction.
She had no interest in baseball.
She only became the manager of the baseball team to defeat Takashi's Aoba.
To be honest, she didn't dislike Takashi.
They just had differing opinions.
But it wasn't just that—Takashi not only disagreed with her, he even mocked her for being "an overly naive, self-absorbed mousepad girl living in her ideal world."
That, she couldn't forgive.
What did he mean, mousepad girl?!
Even if she was a bit small, she still had some curves, okay?
The sides changed, and now it was Aoba pitching, with Sobu at bat.
Momodani Kaname hid his left hand behind him, eyes locked on the batter ahead.
"Phew!"
He let out a deep breath, focused on the catcher, lifted his leg, wound up, and pitched.
The moment the ball left his hand, the screen flashed: 143 km/h.
As the ball flew in, the batter swung hard—and missed completely.
"Strike one."
The Sobu batter stood there, questioning reality.
Why did he miss?
Why did the ball suddenly drop like that at the last moment?
"Kaname, one more!"
The catcher tossed the ball back, loudly encouraging him.
There was no other way—if he didn't shout, the pitcher wouldn't hear him.
"Mm."
Momodani Kaname caught the ball, thinking about what pitch to throw next.
Momodani Kaname was Aoba's ace pitcher, a lefty whose fastest pitch was 143 km/h—not as fast as Takashi or Yuta Shitada.
But he was a quick learner and knew many types of pitches.
Deceptive sliders, diving forkballs, unpredictable changeups—he had them all.
That's what kept him securely as Aoba's ace.
Even after Takashi joined, he remained the team's top pitcher.
Sure, Takashi was fast, but he only threw fastballs. (Kitahara: What if... that's all I know?)
Until Takashi proved he had ace-level skill, the title still belonged to Kaname.
'I won't let you score even one run.'
Momodani Kaname licked his dry lips, eyes fierce.
Yuta Shitada had just shut them out—if he didn't strike back somehow, was he still a man?
What was he, a leopard head?
Momodani Kaname stood sideways, facing the runner or batter, pivot foot on the pitcher's plate, free foot in front.
He held the ball with both hands in front of his body, paused for a second, then delivered an inside slider that was notoriously hard for left-handed batters to hit.
This pitch curved sharply like an arc, diving toward the batter's outer corner. Compared to a curveball, the arc was sharper and quicker.
"Damn it!"
This time, it was Sobu's batter experiencing the same frustration Aoba's hitters had felt earlier.
If Aoba's players missed because they weren't familiar with the opponent, then Sobu's were simply not able to hit.
That pitch was too nasty.
"Strike two!"
Yukino pursed her pink lips tightly, giving no further instructions.
No matter how clever her strategy, it was useless if her players lacked the skill.
All she could do now—was wait.
When Momodani Kaname couldn't pitch anymore—
Before entering Koshien, he had already pitched so many innings. There was no way his arm could still hold up.
The blazing sun poured down, hot enough to cook eggs on the ground, testing everyone's willpower.
Takashi, feeling it would still be a while before he was called up, covered his face with an ice towel and closed his eyes to rest.
Who knew how long he'd been resting before someone suddenly pushed him awake.
He pulled the towel off his face and saw the grim expression of Coach Amatani Kensuke.
"Kitahara, you're going on early."
Takashi: "Oh?"
Amatani Kensuke said in a deep voice, "Momodani's shoulder is dislocated."
As everyone knows from watching footage, baseball pitchers—especially the pros—throw as if their arms are made of rubber, whipping them like noodles.
That's why pitchers often rest several games after throwing.
If they don't, their arms are done for.
Behind the passion and youth of Koshien lies the sacrifice of countless players' health.
No matter the sport, if you train every day without fail, wind or rain, by the end you'll be covered in injuries.
"I understand."
Takashi didn't say anything more and got up from his seat.
Amatani Kensuke walked out of the dugout and gestured for a timeout.
The male announcer exclaimed, "Coach Aoba is calling for a timeout—looks like he's changing pitchers."
"Let's take a look at the relief pitcher's profile: Name: Kitahara Takashi. Age: 16, turning 17. Appearances: 0. Wins: 0? Losses: 0? Fastest pitch: 0? Preferred pitch type: ?"
"Has the Aoba coaching staff gone insane? They're sending a complete rookie onto the mound?"
The male commentator was practically shouting now.
Takashi walked steadily toward the pitcher's mound when suddenly, a clear voice echoed across the stadium from the loudspeakers.
"Takashi!"
He turned around and saw Hitomi holding a microphone.
"Set this Hanshin Koshien Stadium ablaze for me."
She then pointed straight at Sobu High's dugout and curled her lips into a cruel smile.
"Let them taste despair."
Takashi raised his index and middle fingers in a salute at his forehead, an effortless mix of cocky charm in his expression.
"Roger that, milady."
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