Just as the bat was about to make contact, the baseball suddenly dropped sharply, narrowly avoiding the outstretched swing.
"Oh no!" Kuramochi Yoichi, already off balance, couldn't adjust his swing. He could only watch helplessly as the ball struck the ground and bounced into Akaishi Osamu's glove. He staggered forward a few steps before finally regaining his footing, barely avoiding the embarrassing sight of falling face-first into the dirt.
"Strikes three! Batter out! Side retired!"
"A forkball?" Miyuki Kazuya's voice carried a trace of surprise. His team's ace had just used a forkball to defeat the opponent, yet the opponent returned the favor almost immediately. Clearly, this pitcher wasn't someone who would take a loss quietly.
"This pitcher hasn't appeared before, yet he's already this strong. Among the first-years, he's definitely top-tier. And we still don't know how many more tricks he has. Taking him down quickly won't be easy," Chris said calmly, analyzing the situation.
"All we can do is stick to our plan and keep grinding against him," Miyuki Kazuya replied.
"Listen carefully—there are only two innings left. We absolutely cannot allow any more runs," Coach Kataoka said sternly. "What is the dignity of a champion? It means nothing compared to victory. From now on, continue avoiding those two first-year power hitters and focus on the rest of their lineup. As long as we hold on, our chance will come."
"Damn Yakushi High School! Who do they think they are, hiding so many tricks even against Ichidaisan?" Takahiro Hirakawa cursed angrily.
"That monster batter can pitch too? And they dared to hold back like this? I won't forgive them!" Takahiro Omae added, equally furious.
"You Seido guys better crush those rats!" Hirakawa shouted toward Seido's bench.
Kaname Manaka's emotions were complicated—resentment toward Yakushi for looking down on them, worry for his friend, and a lingering frustration knowing his friend might face the same fate he did.
"Aoba, how was Kou's pitching?" Tsukishima Wakaba asked with a proud smile, lifting her chin slightly.
Tsukishima Aoba, unwilling to praise him in front of her sister, turned her head awkwardly and muttered, "It's… okay."
"Hehe, Aoba, you're still so honest in your dishonesty," Tsukishima Momiji teased, munching on a rice ball. "It's fine to praise Kou a little—he's not here to hear you anyway."
"Stop talking and just eat! Even food can't shut you up!" Aoba snapped, raising her hand as if to hit him.
"Wakaba, help! Aoba's going to hit me!" Momiji quickly hid behind Wakaba, sticking his tongue out at Aoba.
Top of the eighth inning—Yakushi High School's offense.
Having begun to overcome his inner struggles, Koichiro Tanba successfully retired Ota Isao using a combination of fastballs and forkballs.
After issuing a walk to Todoroki Raichi, he faced the second batter, Akiba Kazuma. Using his increasingly sharp vertical breaking ball, Tanba forced Akiba into a poor swing, resulting in an easy out.
Against the third batter, Mishima Yuta, Tanba used consecutive vertical breaking pitches to induce foul balls, then finished the at-bat with a forkball to end the inning.
"Kou, only six outs remain. This is the most critical moment of the game. If we can suppress their core lineup, victory will be within reach," Akaishi Osamu said.
"Got it. Hurry up and get out there I'm already shaking with excitement," Kitamura Kou replied, unable to hide his anticipation.
Seido High School's core lineup was renowned nationwide—especially their fourth batter, Tetsuya Yuki. While his home run count might not match Azuma Yuhei's, their batting averages were comparable. Kitamura had been looking forward to this matchup for a long time.
Bottom of the eighth inning—Seido High School's offense.
"Second batter, second baseman, Kominato!"
"An upgraded precision machine, huh? Let me experience it for myself," Ryosuke Kominato said with a smile as he stepped into the batter's box.
Despite the unfavorable situation, there wasn't a hint of tension on his face.
On the mound, Kitamura Kou studied the short, pink-haired batter. His eyes were hidden, his expression calm—yet the tension surrounding him was unmistakable. One small mistake here could completely change the flow of the game.
That pressure…
That thrill…
It made Kitamura tremble with excitement.
With the same smooth, effortless motion, he delivered the pitch—this time without charging forward.
"SWOOSH!!!"
As the white ball shot toward him like an arrow, Kominato's smile disappeared, replaced by shock.
The pitch came straight down the middle.
Dead center.
The very heart of the strike zone.
The speed had increased slightly—around 142 km/h—but that only made the decision harder.
Should I follow Coach Kataoka's plan and keep wearing him down…? Or take this rare chance and swing?
Although the previous pitch had been a forkball, judging from this speed, it was more likely a four-seam fastball.
With my batting skills, even if it drops at the last moment, I should still be able to react and at least foul it off.
Opportunities like this didn't come often.
With that thought, Kominato Ryosuke made his decision.
No hesitation.
He locked onto the center of the strike zone, tightened his grip, and poured all his strength into the swing—