(3) The Final Sprint

The days were growing colder as winter set in, but Kanemaru and Tojo felt the pressure of the approaching high school entrance test more than the chill. Their focus had sharpened, and each practice was like the final push before crossing a finish line they couldn't afford to stumble at.

Kanemaru stood at third base, his knees slightly bent, ready to react. The ball was hit toward him, and he moved quickly, stepping into position with the confidence he had built over weeks of focused practice. His fielding had always been solid, but now it was becoming more than that. His movements were efficient, practical—no wasted energy, no hesitation. He was getting the job done.

He scooped up the ground ball and fired it to first base, the throw precise and quick. No flash, no unnecessary flourish—just a clean play. Kanemaru's defense wasn't showy, but it was becoming dependable. He could feel the difference. His body had caught up to his expectations, and for the first time, he felt fully in control.

But it wasn't just his fielding that had improved. Kanemaru's batting had come a long way too. His swings were cleaner, more powerful, especially against straight balls. The crack of the bat had become a sound he was starting to enjoy more and more. The once frustrating misses were now fewer, and when he connected, the ball flew with more force, often reaching the outfield.

Straight pitches aren't a problem anymore, he thought, stepping out of the batter's box after a particularly solid hit. His confidence at the plate had grown with each practice. He was hitting further, his timing sharper, and his control better. But in his focus on straight balls, he had overlooked something critical—breaking balls.

In the back of his mind, a small voice reminded him that he hadn't spent much time practicing against curveballs, sliders, or any of the trickier pitches that might come his way. But he pushed the thought aside. I'll deal with it later, he told himself, not realizing how much that oversight would haunt him in the future.

Tojo's Focus on Pitching

Tojo was on the mound, his face calm but intensely focused. His frustration from weeks earlier had given way to a more determined resolve. He was working on mastering control over his pitches, specifically his straight ball. His goal was simple yet challenging—he wanted to command the 9-grid strike zone with pinpoint accuracy. Each pitch was aimed with care, targeting different parts of the zone with his fastball. He wasn't trying to overpower the batter; he was trying to outthink and outmaneuver them.

Tojo took a deep breath, wound up, and threw. The ball whizzed toward the outer corner of the strike zone, and the catcher's mitt popped with a satisfying sound. He glanced at the catcher, who gave him a nod of approval. His control was getting better.

If I can master this, I'll be more than just another pitcher, Tojo thought. He had put aside his initial doubts about pitching, deciding to fully commit to improving his command. His fastball might not have explosive speed, but Tojo was aiming for precision. He knew that if he could consistently place his pitches where he wanted them, he could be a valuable asset to the team.

Kanemaru's Weakness Begins to Show

As the practice went on, Kanemaru stepped up to the plate once again, this time facing a teammate who liked to throw breaking balls. The first pitch came—a slider. Kanemaru swung but missed completely, the ball darting away from his bat. His frustration flared for a moment, but he brushed it off.

The next pitch was a curveball, slower but with more movement. Kanemaru swung again and missed.

I didn't practice this enough, he thought, a realization dawning on him. His focus on straight balls had made him forget that not all pitchers would give him the easy stuff. His long, clean hits against straight pitches wouldn't be enough if he couldn't handle breaking balls. It wasn't a major issue now, but deep down, he knew it could become one.

For now, though, he pushed it aside and focused on what he was good at: connecting with straight pitches and fielding with precision.

Pushing Toward the Goal

As the entrance test for Seidou drew closer, both Kanemaru and Tojo pushed themselves harder. Their improvements were noticeable. Kanemaru was becoming a dependable defensive player, and his batting was solid against straightforward pitching. Tojo's control over the strike zone was improving, and he was starting to find his rhythm as a pitcher.

Despite their progress, both players were aware of the gap that still existed between them and the elite talent they would be competing against at Seidou. They had come a long way, but the final hurdle—proving themselves at Seidou—still loomed large.

On the last day of practice before the entrance test, Kanemaru stood at the plate one final time. His teammate threw a straight ball, and Kanemaru connected perfectly. The ball sailed into the outfield, long and clean.

He stepped back, satisfied with his progress, but in the back of his mind, the reminder of his weakness against breaking balls lingered. It was something he would have to face sooner or later.

Tojo's Final Push

Tojo's final pitch of the day was aimed at the low inside corner of the strike zone. He wound up, focused entirely on the placement, and released the ball. It landed exactly where he wanted it, brushing the corner for a strike. His control had improved significantly, and though he wasn't as flashy as the other pitchers, he was finding his place on the mound.

As the day drew to a close, both Kanemaru and Tojo knew they had given everything they had in preparation. The entrance test for Seidou was just the beginning, and they were ready to face it head-on—flaws and all.