Chapter 55 Resolve

The energy around Nehimon Seimei's baseball field had shifted. The upcoming semi-final game against Shukugawa High was the talk of every practice, every conversation. Each player could feel the weight of the next challenge looming. The team wasn't just preparing for any game; they were preparing for one of their toughest battles yet.

Kazuya stood on the mound, sweat dripping down his brow. He had just given up a two-run homer to Haruto, and frustration was gnawing at him. The runner on first base, Shinya Fukuda a first year, was itching to steal and seeking to prove himself, Kazuya adjusted his grip, winding up for the next pitch, but the ball missed its mark. "Ball!" the umpire called.

Shinya saw his chance. He darted off toward second, legs pumping hard against the dirt. Minato Shimizu, Seimei's first-year catcher, reacted immediately. With a quick snap of his arm, he unleashed a cannon shot straight to second base, a perfectly timed throw that nailed the runner.

"Out!" The umpire's call was almost drowned out by the surprised murmurs from the players and coaches.

Shinya cursed under his breath, dusting himself off as he trudged back to the dugout.

Yamato, the assistant coach, clapped loudly. "That's the stuff, Minato!" he shouted with a grin. "Keep that up, and you might find yourself playing in the final." His laughter was contagious, but the compliment was genuine.

Coach Nakamura, who had been quietly observing, turned to Yamato. "He's good," Nakamura said with a nod, "But he still struggles with Ryoichi's fastballs. It's a level of heat he's not used to yet."

Yamato chuckled, patting Nakamura on the back. "He's improving. Give him time."

As the day wore on, the team cycled through more inter-squad matchups. Kai, had struggled on the mound, allowing four runs. He was subbed out for Kohei. He stood on the mound now with two runners on base, his eyes scanning the field as Shinjiro stepped up to the plate.

Kohei wound up, throwing a low curveball. Shinjiro's eyes narrowed. This curveball's weak... he thought to himself. With a fluid swing, he connected, sending a sharp grounder past the infielders.

Kenji, was next up to bat. His eyes flicked toward the dugout where Ryoichi sat, eyes closed, Aoi massaging his shoulders as he rested. "Isn't he enjoying that a bit too much?"

Daiki, the catcher chuckled, rolling his eyes. "He's earned it."

Meanwhile, in the fences, reporters Yamamoto and Renjiro were chatting with a few professional scouts, all of whom had their eyes on the Seimei players.

"Seimei's looking sharp," Renjiro remarked, scribbling notes in his pad. "But I doubt their ace will pitch the full game. Ryoichi's pitch count in the last match was high."

Yamamoto nodded, flipping through his notes. "Yeah, maybe they'll use him to close out the game if needed."

Renjiro tapped his chin thoughtfully. "A pitcher relay, like in their previous games, seems likely. But what I'm really excited about is seeing Shinjiro Takumi back in the lineup."

Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. "That's a guarantee, right?

---

While Seimei was refining their skills on the field, Shukugawa High was preparing in their own way. The sound of weights clanking filled the air inside Shukugawa's gym. The smell of sweat, metal, and hard work saturated the space. Unlike most teams, Shukugawa's players were known for their raw physicality. They trained like bodybuilders, their bodies sculpted from hours of grueling workouts.

In the corner of the gym, Rikuto Sakurai, the team's captain and best hitter, was lifting a heavy barbell, his muscles straining as he completed each rep. He dropped the weight with a loud thud, standing up straight and wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Nearby, Kengo Saito, Shukugawa's ace pitcher, was doing squats, his brow furrowed in deep concentration. He wasn't just a pitcher; he was a fighter—someone who had clawed his way up from a dark past.

Growing up in a violent household, Kengo had turned to delinquency, constantly getting into fights and skipping school. Baseball was his only escape. For a while, he spiraled into despair, not knowing where his life was headed.

It wasn't until Takefusa Muraoka, Shukugawa's catcher, intervened that Kengo found his way back to the field. Takefusa had known Kengo since they were kids, and he wasn't about to watch his friend throw everything away. Slowly, Kengo came back to baseball. He rebuilt his life, brick by brick.

---

The sun was beginning to set as Seimei's practice came to an end. The players were tired but focused, knowing they had just a few days left to prepare for the biggest game of their season. Coach Nakamura gathered the team together for a final word.

"Good work today, everyone," Nakamura said, his voice firm but encouraging. "Shukugawa's a tough team, but we've faced tough teams before. Remember tomorrow we'll be hitting balls deep for our outfielders." The player's then dispersed.

"Coach, can i speak with you," Kazuya said, his voice more resolute than usual.

Nakamura and Yamato exchanged curious glances before leading Kazuya into the small office next to the locker room. Inside, the faint sound of practice still echoed in the distance.

Yamato, leaning against the desk, raised an eyebrow and said, "Well, Kazuya? What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, Kazuya suddenly bowed, his voice bursting out in a rare display of emotion. "Please, let me pitch the whole game against Shukugawa! Please, Coach!"

Both Nakamura and Yamato were caught off guard. Kazuya had always been quiet, methodical in his approach to the game, never one to voice strong emotions. This outburst was unexpected.

Yamato cleared his throat, clearly surprised. "Kazuya..."

Nakamura, whose calm demeanor rarely wavered, studied Kazuya for a moment. Inwardly, he had feared this day would come. He had always seen the quiet determination behind Kazuya's eyes, but this level of passion was something new. He leaned back in his chair, cupping his hands together, and let out a slow breath before speaking.

"Alright," Nakamura said, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "You can start the game."

Kazuya's eyes widened in shock. "Just like that!?"

"But," Nakamura's voice cut through the air like a blade, "If you allow more than two runs, you're out."

Kazuya straightened up, his heart pounding in his chest. "Thank you, Coach!" he shouted, bowing once more before leaving the office, determination radiating from him.

As the door closed behind him, Yamato turned to Nakamura, clearly unsure. "Are you sure about this, Boss? Kazuya's good, but Shukugawa's no ordinary team."

Nakamura leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "That was the first time I've seen him show that much emotion," he said softly, almost to himself.

Yamato frowned but didn't push the issue further. Nakamura's instincts had rarely led them astray, and he could see the depth of Kazuya's request wasn't about ego.

Kazuya walked home alone that evening, the cool air brushing against his face. His footsteps were heavy, not with fatigue, but with the weight of the promise he had just made to himself and his coach. He had never been one to ask for anything—neither from his team nor from his family. He had always kept his head down, focusing on what needed to be done. But today had been different. Today, he had demanded something for himself.

As he reached his home, Kazuya braced himself for the usual interactions. Inside, his father sat at the table, reading through a stack of legal papers, his face buried in the text. His presence was always commanding, even without words.

Kazuya greeted him as he entered the room. "I'm home."

His father didn't look up, his eyes fixed on the fine print of the contracts and cases spread out before him. "Has your fall tournament or whatever ended yet?" he asked, his voice void of interest. "I thought you said you'd quit by now."

Kazuya stiffened. This conversation had been looming over him for months. "We still have the semi-final and final left," Kazuya said, trying to keep his voice steady. He hesitated for a second before adding, "I'll be pitching in the next game."

His father finally glanced up from his papers, but his expression didn't change. His eyes scanned Kazuya with a mixture of indifference and expectation. "If you lose," his father said, wetting his finger and turning the page of the newspaper, "you better keep your promise and quit."

Kazuya felt his stomach tighten, but he nodded. "I understand."

Without another word, he walked upstairs to his room. His father's dismissive tone still echoed in his ears, but Kazuya was used to it. His father had never hidden his disdain for baseball. To him, it was a waste of time, a distraction from the family's prestigious legal career. Kazuya's older siblings had all followed the path laid out for them—lawyers like their father, like their grandfather. But Kazuya had strayed from that path, and that choice had branded him as a disappointment.

As Kazuya lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence of the house pressed down on him. His thoughts drifted back to his team, to the support he had received from Coach Nakamura, Yamato, and even his quiet teammates. This could be my last game...he thought. I'll make sure I don't let them down.