Chapter 52 Quater-Final (9)

Nehimon Seimei's ace pitcher, Ryoichi Kuroda, stood tall on the mound. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder—everyone had been wondering if he could hold out. Whispers of his stamina had echoed throughout the stadium for the last two innings.

"Ryoichi's still in?" one of the Suma Tomogaoka fans muttered, surprise evident in his voice. "I thought they'd pull him out by now."

"He's gotta be running on fumes," another added, his voice laced with doubt.

But there he was, still on the mound, the weight of the game on his shoulders. He couldn't back down now. Not when they were so close to victory.

In the Suma Tomogaoka dugout, the tension was palpable. Masato, Endo, and Noboru sat together, each lost in their own thoughts as they prepared for what could be their final at-bats. The pressure weighed heavily on them, but none of them wanted to show it. They knew Ryoichi was hanging by a thread, but they couldn't afford to underestimate him.

Masato clenched his bat tightly, his knuckles white. "His control is getting better, and his fastballs are faster...is he a freak..." he muttered, mostly to himself. "Endo then said, "But he has a tendency of throwing something weak here and there, we'll capitalize." One good swing could change the game, and they all knew it.

Coach Fujimoto approached them, his expression calm but firm. "Masato, relax. You're too tense," he said, his voice low but steady. " Ryoichi's running on fumes, but that makes him more dangerous, just wait for your pitch."

Masato nodded, swallowing the knot in his throat as he stepped up to the plate. He knew what he had to do, but knowing it didn't make the fear of failure any easier.

Ryoichi slapped his face taking deep breaths but still felt a feeling of anxiety creeping in. He tried to ignore and push it aside to focus on the batter in front of him. He glanced toward the Seimei dugout, where Coach Nakamura stood, giving him a steady nod.

"This is your game to finish," Nakamura had told him. "You've done your part. Now, close it out."

Ryoichi nodded again, wiping the sweat from his brow. His fingers tightened around the ball, digging into the seams as he prepared to pitch. I've already come this far…. I'm going to finish this game!

Masato stepped into the batter's box, his heart pounding in his chest. As the first pitch sailed toward him, his instincts screamed, Fastball! He swung with all his might, expecting to make solid contact. But his bat sliced through the air, meeting nothing.

"Strike!" the umpire's voice boomed.

Masato blinked in disbelief. What!? How did I miss that? Something was off, but he couldn't figure out what. His grip tightened as he stepped back into his stance. His heart raced, the pressure mounting with every second.

Behind the plate, Daiki signaled for a forkball. Ryoichi hesitated, his confidence in the pitch shaky. His forkball was notoriously unreliable—it could break beautifully or completely miss the zone. But there was no time for doubt. He wound up, releasing the pitch with everything he had.

Masato watched the ball come toward him, bracing himself. He was ready. But just as he was about to swing, the ball dropped sharply, breaking at the last second. His bat missed by a mile.

"Strike two!"

Masato's eyes went wide, disbelief etched across his face. A forkball!? They still had a pitch like this!.. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as the crowd gasped.

"Did you see that pitch?!" a fan shouted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd.

"What was that? A forkball at that speed?" another fan said, shaking his head in amazement.

Ryoichi wiped the sweat from his face, his hand trembling slightly. He glanced at Daiki, who gave him the signal for another forkball. He hesitated. Another one? He's nuts. But he didn't have time to think. He nodded, winding up for the pitch and sending it toward Masato.

Masato saw the ball coming, his heart racing as he swung hard. This time— But once again, the pitch broke sharply, and his bat sliced through nothing but air.

"Strike three!" the umpire called.

Masato stood frozen, his bat still raised. I missed… again.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Ryoichi breathed a sigh of relief. One out down.

Next up was Takeshi Endo, Suma's third baseman. He watched as Masato walked back to the dugout, frustration etched on his face. Ryoichi's tough, I'll give him that… but he's gotta be running out of gas. If I can just get on base, we've got a chance.

Endo stepped into the batter's box, confidence coursing through his veins. One hit is all we need!

Ryoichi steadied himself again, his breaths coming in short gasps. Just two more outs, he told himself. His body ached, but he couldn't give in now. He had to finish this game.

Daiki signaled for a cutter, and Ryoichi nodded, winding up for the pitch. The ball shot toward the plate, Endo's eyes followed it closely. Low and outside, i can get! He swung, connecting with the ball as it shot toward shortstop.

Kaito, Seimei's shortstop, reacted immediately. The ball was heading fast, a sharp line drive that looked like it was about to sneak past him. Without hesitation, Kaito dove mid-air, stretching his glove out as far as it would go. The ball smacked into the leather just as he hit the ground, tumbling through the dirt but securing the catch.

"Out!" the umpire shouted.

The crowd erupted in cheers once again. Even the Suma fans couldn't help but admire the effort. Endo stood frozen in disbelief as Kaito stood up, dirt smeared across his uniform, holding the ball high for everyone to see.

Two outs.

The entire weight of the game now fell on Noboru's shoulders. He wasn't just their ace pitcher—he had to be their savior at the plate as well. As he stepped into the batter's box, his mind raced. I can't let it end like this again...I have to give us a chance!

Daiki signaled for an inside fastball, and Ryoichi nodded, his body screaming for rest. He wound up, gritting his teeth as he threw the ball toward Noboru's chest.

Noboru swung with everything he had, but the ball zipped by him before he could make contact.

"Strike!" the umpire called.

Noboru cursed under his breath, adjusting his stance. Damn it, his fastball's even faster now!

The Seimei players shouted, nice pitch! Ryoichi! You can let him hit! We're behind you!!

Ryoichi wiped his forehead, his vision blurring slightly. One more strike. Just one more.

Daiki signaled for a splitter, low and away. Ryoichi nodded weakly, winding up for what felt like the hundredth time. He released the pitch, watching it break sharply toward Noboru.

Noboru swung again, but the ball dipped just below his bat.

"Strike two!"

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, tension palpable. Noboru knew this could be his last swing of the game.

He glanced back at the dugout, seeing the anxious faces of his teammates. They're counting on me. He took a deep breath, focusing all his energy on the next pitch.

Ryoichi felt the world narrowing around him, his legs barely holding him up. He saw Daiki's signal for a fastball and nodded, even though his arm felt like it was about to fall off.

He wound up, digging deep into his reserves, and launched the ball with everything he had. Noboru swung with all his might, connecting a weak thud, the ball dribbling down the first base line. The crowd gasped as the ball rolled slowly, barely staying fair. Ryoichi, running on pure instinct, sprinted off the mound.

Haruto the first baseman, charged forward, scooping up the ball and firing it to Ryoichi, who was covering first base. The pitcher stretched his glove out, his foot barely making contact with the bag as he caught the throw.

"Out!" the umpire shouted.