Chapter 29 Second Round (6)

The stadium was electric, a deafening buzz of excitement and tension that rippled through the crowd. It was the bottom of the 9th, and the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. Nehimon Seimei High had held the lead throughout the game, but the decision to pull their ace pitcher, Ryoichi in favor of the first-year, Kohei, had everyone talking. On the Minatogawa side, fans were whispering in disbelief, while the Seimei supporters were tense, skeptical murmurs passing between them.

Up in the stands, an older Seimei fan shook his head, gripping the railing in front of him. "Why pull Ryoichi now!?" he muttered to his friend beside him.

The friend nodded, equally unsure. "Kohei's a talent, but this is his first year. The pressure will eat him alive."

Meanwhile, on the mound, Kohei was warming up. The ball snapped into Daiki's glove with each throw, but Koheis mind wasn't on the sound of leather or the feeling of the ball in his hand. His thoughts were racing.

"I know it. Coach knows it. That's why I'm here," Kohei told himself, trying to drown out the roar of the stadium. But in the pit of his stomach, doubt gnawed at him.

From center field Kenji, watched Kohei ntently. His expression was serious, but his eyes betrayed a hint of worry. "We need this win," Kenji thought.

Mori, Minatogawa's catcher, stepped up to the plate, his bat resting on his shoulder. He was calm, his face unreadable, focused and sharp. "This is my chance. If I get on base, we can... I will get on base."

---

The count was now 2-2, and Daiki, crouched behind the plate, called for a low fastball. He wanted to keep Mori guessing, make him chase something out of the zone. But Kohei, flaring up, shook off the signal.

Ignoring Daiki's signal, Kohei wound up and unleashed a fastball right down the heart of the plate. But Mori was ready for it. His eyes lit up, and his body reacted instantly. He swung with perfect timing, his bat making clean contact with the ball.

PING!

The sound of the bat connecting with the ball reverberated through the stadium. Kohei's eyes widened in shock as he watched the ball soar high into the sky, sailing effortlessly over the right-field fence.

Home run.

Minatogawa's fans erupted in wild cheers, their voices deafening as they celebrated Mori's homer. On the Seimei side, the fans fell silent, a sense of disbelief hanging in the air. They had been so close to sealing the game, and now it was slipping away.

Kohei stood frozen on the mound, his fists clenched in frustration. "So what, this is just a minor setback for me hmph," He cursed under his breath.

Daiki removed his mask and marched up to the mound, his jaw set in a hard line. The usually composed catcher was fuming, his patience finally running thin.

"I've always let you get away with ignoring my calls because you're good," Daiki growled, his voice low but filled with barely contained anger. "But this is a crucial point in the game. If you ignore my signs again, I swear you'll never step on this mound for Seimei again. Got it you fucker!?"

Kohei, caught off guard by the intensity in Daiki's voice, swallowed nervously and nodded. "Y-Yes, sir."

Daiki stared at him for another moment, making sure the message sunk in, before turning on his heel and walking back to home plate. But as Daiki walked away, Kohei's anger flared up again. "How dare he step in my domain!? Talking to me like I'm some third-rate pitcher" Koshida thought, his ego wounded.

But there was no time for sulking. Takeshi, Minatogawa's next batter, stepped up to the plate, and Kohei knew he had to focus. He wiped the sweat from his brow and gripped the ball tightly. "Fine I'll obey you for now, embrace my godlike pitches and receive them with grace".

Daiki crouched behind the plate, his eyes locked on Kohei. He signaled for a splitter, hoping to throw Takeshi off balance. Kohei nodded and delivered the pitch. The ball dove sharply as it crossed the plate, and Takeshi swung, missing entirely. Strike one.

Kohei felt a small surge of confidence. "Don't feel bad. You can't beat the king of the fall."

Daiki called for another splitter, and again, Kohei nodded. He wound up and threw the pitch, the ball dropping just as Takeshi swung through it. Strike two.

Takeshi gritted his teeth, stepping out of the batter's box for a moment. "He won't throw another splitter. He's going to mix it up," Takeshi thought, adjusting his grip on the bat. But Daiki had other plans. He signaled for a third splitter, and Kohei complied, releasing the pitch with precision.

Takeshi swung again, but the ball dropped just out of reach. Strike three.

The Seimei fans cheered, their spirits lifted slightly. One out.

---

The next batter was none other than Aoki, Minatogawa's ace pitcher, who had been dominant on the mound all game. Aoki was good at the plate, but the pressure of the moment weighed heavily on him. He stepped into the batter's box, trying to keep his nerves in check.

"Just make contact," Aoki told himself. "Just get on base."

Daiki called for a low fastball, wanting to keep the ball out of Aoki's sweet spot. Kohei, now fully focused, delivered the pitch with precision. Aoki swung, but his nerves got the better of him, and he made weak contact, sending a dribbler back toward the mound.

Kohei pounced on the ball, scooping it up and throwing to first base for the out.

---

Now, it all came down to Kiba, Minatogawa's last batter. Kiba was a massive figure, towering over the plate with his muscular build. His presence was intimidating, and as he stepped into the batter's box, he locked eyes with Kohei, his gaze intense.

"Ehh another guy with muscles,"Kohei hought, his grip tightening on the ball. "Let me finish him off quickly."

Kiba's teammates shouted encouragement from the dugout, their voices blending into the cacophony of noise in the stadium. Kohei wound up for the first pitch, a curveball, but it missed the strike zone. Ball one.

Kiba didn't flinch, his expression unchanging. "He's nervous. If he throws a meatball..." Kiba thought, waiting for his moment.

The second pitch was a fastball, but again, it missed the zone. Ball two.

Kohei could feel the pressure mounting. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. "Fuck, too hasty"

Daiki called time and jogged to the mound again, his tone more measured this time. "Calm down. You're letting him get in your head. Just pitch right into my mitt."

Kohei nodded, trying to slow his breathing. He had to keep it together. Daiki signaled for a cutter, and Kohei wound up, delivering the pitch with pinpoint accuracy. Kiba swung, but the ball darted away at the last second. Strike one.

The stadium was on edge now, the noise building as the count grew. Kohei felt the weight of every eye on him as he prepared for the next pitch. Daiki signaled for a changeup, and Kohei threw it with everything he had. Kiba swung, and the bat connected, sending the ball screaming toward left field.

The crowd gasped as the ball sailed high into the sky, a sharp arc toward deep left field. Kohei's heart pounded in his chest, his breath caught in his throat. But out in left field, Shinjiro was already moving. His instincts kicked in the moment the bat cracked against the ball. His eyes locked onto it, tracking its rise with laser focus, calculating its descent with a clarity born from hours of practice.

"Shit, i won't make it," Shinjiro thought, adrenaline flooding his veins as his legs churned beneath him. The grass blurred beneath his feet as he sprinted full speed toward the warning track, the roar of the crowd fading into the background. All that existed was the ball—soaring, falling, speeding toward its final destination.

The ball dipped in its flight, now plummeting toward the wall. Too far! It was going to drop just beyond his reach.

But Shinjiro didn't slow down. Instead, he lunged, throwing himself forward with every ounce of strength he had. His body stretched out in a full dive, his glove outstretched, fingers grasping at the air as the ball hurtled downward.

Time seemed to freeze.

The crowd gasped as Shinjiro's body flew through the air, a blur of white and green, the ball spinning as it descended. For a split second, it seemed like it would escape him, drop into the grass beyond his reach. But at the last moment, his glove snapped shut with a soft but sharp thud.

The ball was in his mitt.

Shinjiro hit the ground hard, his body skidding across the warning track, dirt kicking up as he slid, but he held onto the ball. He gritted his teeth, bracing for the impact as he tumbled, his heart hammering in his chest. When he finally came to a stop, lying sprawled out on the grass, he raised his glove high, the ball still securely inside.

OUT.

The stadium erupted in a deafening roar, a mix of shock and celebration as the Seimei fans leapt to their feet, screaming and cheering. Shinjiro lay there for a moment, breathless, his chest heaving as he stared up at the sky, his glove held high.

His teammates sprinted toward him, shouting his name, their voices barely audible over the thunderous applause of the crowd. Shinjiro grinned, rolling onto his feet, holding up the ball as his teammates surrounded him. The game was over. Nehimon Seimei had won.

Shinjiro looked out over the field, his heart still racing, the weight of the moment settling in.