Chapter 44 Quater-Final (2)

The tension in the stadium was electric as the bottom of the first inning was about to begin. Nehimon Seimei's ace pitcher, Ryoichi Kuroda, stood on the mound, warming up with a focused intensity that drew the eyes of the entire stadium. The crowd buzzed with anticipation, every pitch he threw in warm-up sending a surge of excitement through the stands. His fastballs slammed into the catcher's mitt with a crisp, echoing thud, signaling the impending showdown between Seimei's star pitcher and Suma Tomogaoka's potent lineup.

In the stands, a group of girls shrieked, their voices cutting through the noise. "Ryoichi-kun!!!" they screamed, waving banners with his name in bold, glittering letters. A few seats down, a burly man pumped his fist into the air, his face glowing with excitement. "He's here! We're in for a show!" he bellowed, his voice booming over the swelling roar of the crowd.

The commentator's voice crackled. "And here we go, folks! Nehimon Seimei's ace, Ryoichi Kuroda, takes the mound. He's started only one game in this tournament, but he's back in the spotlight today for this crucial quarterfinal matchup. The big question: Can Suma Tomogaoka's batters handle his heat?"

On the field, Seimei's players moved with precision and purpose, their confidence showing in every step, their movements sharp and focused. Kenji, clapped his hands loudly, his voice booming across the diamond. "Let's go! One out at a time!" His words carried authority, keeping his team grounded in the moment.

Haruto grinned wide, a playful glint in his eye as he yelled over to Ryoichi. "Did you drink enough water!? Don't pass out on us!"

Ryoichi smirked, sticking out his tongue at his teammate, playing along to keep things light, even as his nerves churned. The weight of the game, the thousands of eyes watching, all pressed on his shoulders. But this was his stage. He needed to start strong, no room for jitters.

Behind the plate, Daiki Matsuda crouched low, watching Ryoichi with keen eyes, every warm-up pitch sinking into his glove with that satisfying thud. But Daiki's sharp mind was already analyzing. His fastballs are looking sharp today, he thought, a flicker of pride mixing with concern.

On the other side, in the Suma Tomogaoka dugout, Masato and Noboru were watching closely, both sizing up their opponent. Masato, Suma's cleanup hitter and backbone of the lineup, leaned in closer to Noboru. His voice was low but filled with determination. "That fastball is something else, but his control's shaky early on. We need to capitalize before he settles in."

Noboru, standing silently, gripped the bench seat, his mind racing. "We're not backing down," Noboru muttered to himself.

The announcer's voice rang through the stadium, pulling everyone back into the moment. "Batting first for Suma Tomogaoka, Yamada-kun shortstop!"

Yamada, Suma's leadoff hitter, stepped up to the plate, digging his cleats into the dirt and tapping his bat on the plate with purpose. His eyes were locked onto Ryoichi, reading his posture, studying every detail as Ryoichi stood tall on the mound. The noise of the crowd faded, and all that was left was the ball in Ryoichi's hand.

Ryoichi wound up, his motion fluid, and with a quick explosion of power, he unleashed his first pitch—a fastball that screamed toward the plate like a bullet. Yamada's eyes widened as the ball blurred toward him, but he swung instinctively, fouling it off to the side with a sharp, cracking sound.

"Foul!" the umpire called, his voice firm.

Yamada stepped out of the batter's box, taking a slow, deliberate breath. His pulse raced. That pressure is something else he thought. This wasn't just a normal fastball—it was fire. He adjusted his grip on the bat and focused in once more.

Ryoichi wasted no time. His next pitch was already on its way—a slider that broke sharply across the plate, slicing through the strike zone like a scythe. Yamada swung, but the ball darted past him, untouched.

"Strike two!"

The Suma dugout fell silent. The tension ratcheted up with each passing moment. Masato, waiting in the on-deck circle, watched Ryoichi's mechanics carefully. He was always patient, always studying. His slider's good, but not perfect. We need to wait him out. We just need one mistake.

Ryoichi, feeling the surge of confidence from his early success, wound up for the third pitch. He fired a high fastball, a challenge, daring Yamada to chase it. Yamada swung aggressively, sending a blistering line drive toward left field. The ball shot off the bat like a missile, but Seimei's left fielder, Shota Iwata, was quick on his feet, sprinting forward and diving to snatch the ball just before it could hit the ground.

"Out!" the umpire's voice rang out.

The Seimei fans erupted in cheers, their voices rising in unison as their confidence swelled. Ryoichi clenched his fist, adrenaline pumping through his veins. That's one down, he thought. He exhaled, but there was no time to celebrate. He had to keep this momentum.

Next up to bat was Kazuya, Suma's quick and agile second baseman. He was known for his speed, his sharp eye for gaps in the defense, and his ability to turn singles into doubles with a burst of energy. Ryoichi knew that Kazuya would be patient, and sure enough, Kazuya watched the first pitch—a fastball—sail just outside the zone. He didn't bite.

Ryoichi shook off Daiki's next call and went for a curveball, hoping to catch Kazuya off guard. The ball dipped low, right at the knees. Kazuya swung, making weak contact, the ball skidding past Daiki's mitt and bouncing in the dirt. Kazuya didn't hesitate. He tore down the baseline with blinding speed, legs pumping as he flew toward first.

Daiki scrambled to collect the ball, but by the time he threw to first, Kazuya was already sliding, kicking up dirt as his hand touched the bag.

"Safe!" the umpire called, and Suma's fans erupted in wild cheers.

From the mound, Ryoichi could feel his control slipping, just for a moment. He had always prided himself on his fastball, but he knew that once runners got on base, it became a whole different game. Kazuya's presence on first base was like a ticking time bomb, ready to steal second if Ryoichi made one wrong move.

Ryoichi stole a glance at Kazuya, and Daiki took a look him and signaled Don't mind him, focus on the nex batter.

The next batter up was Masato, Suma's most feared hitter. He was tall and imposing, the kind of player who seemed to tower over the plate. Masato had a reputation for thriving in clutch moments, and this felt like one of those moments. The game was still early, but the energy was already at a fever pitch.

Masato stepped into the batter's box, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Ryoichi. Ryoichi could feel the pressure mounting. This was the batter he had to neutralize if they wanted to keep the game in control.

Ryoichi delivered a fastball, but Masato didn't move, letting it pass for a ball. The next pitch was a 2-seam and Masato swung, fouling it back into the netting.

The count moved to 2-1, and the intensity built with every passing second. Masato stepped out of the box, taking a deep breath as he stared out toward the mound, his mind running through possible scenarios. He's going to try and overpower me with his fastball. If he throws a meatball....

Ryoichi, aware of the weight of every decision, went into his windup. His delivery was not smooth, his arm coming over with explosive force. The fastball , racing toward the plate with blistering speed. Masato's bat whipped around with perfect timing, and with a resounding crack, the ball was launched high and deep toward left field.

The stadium held its collective breath as the ball soared into the air, climbing higher and higher. Ryoichi turned, his heart sinking as he realized the inevitable. The ball sailed over the left-field wall.

"Home run!" the commentator's voice boomed, his words almost lost in the chaos of the roaring crowd

Ryoichi's heart pounded, Daiki crouched behind the plate, signaled It's still too early, don't mind it. They needed to strike out the batter.