The Seidou practice ground was quiet save for the scrape of cleats and the thud of mitts. Alumni and the second-string players sat along the fence, their murmurs filling the air with a low tension. To them, this wasn't just another practice match — this was a chance to see how the freshmen, especially Sendo Akira, would fare against the powerhouse lineup of Inashiro.
The scoreboard read: Seidou 0 – Inashiro 0. Top of the 3rd inning.
Inashiro's eighth batter stepped into the box, tightening his grip on the bat. He was no star like Carlos or Harada, but he carried the quiet confidence of someone who had trained in one of Tokyo's strongest programs. He glanced at Sendo on the mound and smirked faintly.
(He's handled the top of our order once, but the bottom is where pitchers usually relax. That's where mistakes happen.)
Miyuki crouched behind the plate, his sharp eyes fixed on Sendo. "Don't give them anything easy. Remember, even their bottom lineup can bite."
Sendo nodded, gripping the ball with calm certainty. His wind-up was smooth, compact, and his fastball exploded out of his hand with crisp power.
"Strike!"
The umpire's call rang, and the alumni murmured in approval.
"His control's sharper than I thought," one second-string pitcher whispered. "He's not just throwing heat. He's aiming exactly where Miyuki calls."
The Inashiro batter gritted his teeth, then swung at the next pitch — a moving fastball that tailed away from the barrel.
Crack!
The ball skipped along the dirt toward second base. Ryousuke Kominato glided to it effortlessly, scooped it up, and fired to first.
"Out!"
One down.
The ninth batter came next, a lanky outfielder with speed in his legs. He squared around early, showing bunt, hoping to catch Seidou's defense asleep.
But Sendo was ready. His pitch dropped lower, sinking fast. The bunt attempt fizzled, popping the ball straight into Miyuki's waiting glove.
"Out!"
Two down.
"Nice read, Sendo," Miyuki called as he tossed the ball back.
The alumni clapped lightly, impressed. "He's not panicking. Even against small tricks, he's calm."
Now the lineup turned over. Carlos, the center fielder and Inashiro's leadoff, stepped in again. His tall frame and loose stance radiated danger.
Carlos twirled the bat once, smirking. "So this is Seidou's hidden rookie pitcher? Not bad, kid. But let's see if you can stop me twice."
Miyuki's eyes narrowed. "Careful. If you give him even a fraction of a mistake, he'll punish you."
Sendo inhaled deeply, then delivered a fastball high and inside. Carlos pulled back, teeth flashing. "He's not afraid to challenge me, huh."
The next pitch came — a sharp slider breaking away. Carlos chased, missing by a hair.
"Strike two!"
The Seidou bench erupted in cheers. Sawamura jumped up, fists pumping. "Yes! That's the way, Sendo!"
Carlos exhaled, annoyed. (Tch. He's sharper than I expected. Can't underestimate him.)
The third pitch — fastball low. Carlos swung, connecting — but the ball only skittered foul down the third-base line.
Miyuki smirked beneath his mask. "Not good enough."
The fourth pitch came, another slider, biting late. Carlos swung and missed.
"Strike three!"
The alumni cheered louder now, their voices echoing across the practice field. A first-year pitcher had just struck out Inashiro's feared leadoff man for the second time.
"Three up, three down!"
The inning ended with Sendo walking calmly off the mound, his expression cool and unshaken. But inside, his chest throbbed with fire.
(I can hold them. No matter the order, I'll shut them down.)
Bottom of the 3rd.
Seidou's turn came, their eighth batter stepping in. Against Narumiya Mei — Inashiro's "Tokyo Prince."
Narumiya's golden hair glimmered faintly under the sun, his calm smile taunting the batter. "I'll make this quick."
The pitch zipped in — a high fastball with ridiculous carry. The batter swung under it helplessly.
"Strike!"
The alumni muttered among themselves. "Every time I see Narumiya, it feels like his pitches defy gravity."
Two more pitches, and the batter was gone. Strikeout.
The ninth batter, another freshman, tried his luck but froze on a curveball that snapped into the zone.
"Strike three!"
Two down.
The lineup rolled over to Kuramochi. The shortstop bounced into the box, grin wide. "Don't think you can just breeze through us, pretty boy."
Narumiya chuckled, tucking his cap. "We'll see."
First pitch — Kuramochi dropped a bunt down the third-base line. His legs blurred as he sprinted.
"Safe!"
The dugout erupted, Sawamura nearly falling over in excitement. "That's it, senpai! Show them Seidou speed!"
Narumiya only smirked, unfazed. With a runner on, he delivered to Ryousuke. The older Kominato read the pitch, slapping it softly into right.
First and second, two outs.
But Miyuki was next. His sharp eyes glinted as he stepped up, bat resting on his shoulder.
Narumiya stared him down, that calm smile still in place. "Show me what you've got, Seidou's brain."
First pitch — a curve dropping late. Miyuki fouled it off.
Second pitch — fastball on the edge. Ball.
Third pitch — another curve. Miyuki waited, then lashed the ball into center.
Kuramochi flew around third, sliding into home just as the throw came in.
"Safe!"
The Seidou dugout exploded. 1–0.
Miyuki stood at first, fist clenched once. "That's one, Sendo. Now keep it."
Top of the 4th.
Harada Takaya, Inashiro's cleanup, stepped in. His towering frame and wide stance cast a shadow over the plate.
Miyuki's glove shifted slightly. "Careful. This is where they bite hardest."
Sendo exhaled, then fired his first pitch — a fastball on the outside. Harada didn't swing, eyes narrowing.
Second pitch — moving fastball inside. Harada swung, fouling it back.
"Strike!"
The Inashiro bench clapped rhythmically. "Stay patient, Captain. Wear him down."
Sendo wound up again. This time, a slider sweeping across the plate. Harada swung — and missed.
"Strike two!"
The alumni gasped. "He's even going after Harada without fear."
Harada gritted his teeth, glaring. "You've got guts, rookie."
The fourth pitch — fastball high and in. Harada swung with full power.
Crack!
The ball soared high, but it drifted foul into the stands.
Sendo didn't flinch. He wound up once more, then dropped a sinking fastball low.
Harada swung — empty.
"Strike three!"
The Seidou bench roared as Harada trudged back, shaking his head.
The alumni were buzzing now. "A freshman struck out Inashiro's captain… unreal."
From the Inashiro dugout, Narumiya watched silently, his smile gone. His golden eyes narrowed, following Sendo's every move.
(Interesting. He's better than I thought. But he won't last forever.)
Sendo stood tall on the mound, chest rising and falling. His arm burned faintly, but his eyes only sharpened.
(I'll hold them back. No matter who's in that box… I'll prove I belong.)
End of Chapter 17