<99> Nothing Special?

Chapter 99: Nothing Special?

"Ping!"

The bat, swung slightly ahead of time, made solid contact with the baseball.

"Thud!"

The ball ultimately landed in the outfield.

"Nice hit!" Sendo exclaimed, smiling warmly at Kondou the moment the ball was struck.

He didn't even bother turning around to watch where it landed as he offered his sincere praise.

"Hehe!" Kondou grinned brightly, revealing a full set of gleaming white teeth.

...

The next day,

"Coach Kunimi! Please take good care of us today!" Sano greeted Tokugawa's coach warmly.

"The same to you. Looking forward to it! Is starting the match in 20 minutes okay?"

"Yes, no problem!"

Since the request for the match came from Tokugawa, coupled with the disparity in skill between the teams, they didn't seem to mind letting Akagi decide who would bat first. Sendo promptly chose to bat first.

Neither team was overly focused on winning this match.

For Akagi, Sendo aimed to gather intel, while Tokugawa's interest lay in experiencing Sawamura's pitching.

In that sense, Akagi had the advantage in this game.

"Are we playing the same way as last time, Sen-chan?" Ohno asked before the game began.

In the previous match, Sendo had deciphered the opposing catcher's pitch-calling patterns.

At the junior high level, catchers often don't receive much focus, resulting in predictable pitch sequences and limited strategies, especially in rural areas like Nagano.

Even with a former professional player coaching youth baseball, it was hard to imagine a team like Akagi pulling off something as advanced as reading the catcher's pitch patterns.

Getting a few hits in a match is perfectly normal, even if the skill gap is significant. The vastness of the field and each player's coverage area contribute to this.

"No need for that; let's just play normally." Sendo chuckled.

After all, as someone looking to gather intel, there was no way he would willingly expose his own hand.

It was just a practice match.

A loss would be inconsequential, and it wasn't realistic to keep Sawamura's capabilities hidden forever; otherwise, they might as well swap him off the pitcher's mound entirely.

This was also why, unless the skill gap was immense, intentional walks were rarely employed in practice games.

Of course, Tokugawa didn't regard Akagi as a true rival and didn't field their full roster.

While some might think a full-strength team could go easy on an opponent, it's actually challenging to feign effort in short matches.

A poorly executed "softball approach" could lead to disastrous results, as losing momentum is easy, but regaining it is not.

Thus, simply telling players to relax a little was already a form of easing up.

This was why powerhouse teams like Seidou, Ichidaisan, and Inashiro typically avoided direct encounters with their starters during practice matches.

When teams feign effort, clean hits would turn into easy strikeouts—awkward, exaggerated ones, like those caused by Sawamura's erratic pitching.

Watching such strikeouts clearly reveals the skill gap.

"This team doesn't have any standout players. Honestly, if it weren't for that pitcher, who would even want to play against a school like this that doesn't improve year after year? In their last match, they only managed eight hits, most of which were lucky." Tokugawa's ninth batter, their catcher, thought dismissively.

"Strike!"

"As expected, this catcher's pitch-calling is far too predictable. Or maybe we're just too used to unconventional catchers on our team?" Ohno pondered, noticing the forced strike on the outside corner. "Still, Sen-chan's strict no-breaking-ball policy makes things harder. Is this his way of going easy on them?"

The previous match ended abruptly, leaving Tokugawa with no meaningful insight into Akagi. Sendo's sharp reads of the catcher's calls, his eventual reliance on fastballs, and his lack of tells meant the game ended without giving their opponent anything to go on.

This anonymity was a major advantage for Akagi.

"Strike! Batter out!" Ultimately, Ohno swung and missed at a curveball.

"Go, Aoki!" Sawamura shouted in encouragement.

"To be honest, I barely remember this batter from the last match. Why is he batting second?" Tokugawa's catcher mused, perplexed. "Oh well, their team doesn't even have a proper coach. Weird decisions are par for the course. We're a national-level team—struggling against a first-round dropout would be embarrassing."

The pitcher wound up.

"Whoosh!"

"Ding!"

"A bunt? With no one on base?" Tokugawa was caught off guard. Their lax attitude toward Akagi led to delayed reactions.

"Too late!" Tokugawa's ace realized they wouldn't make it in time.

"Safe!" Aoki reached base successfully.

Over the past six months, Aoki had focused intensely on bunting, base running, and transitioning into hit-and-run plays.

Among the team, only Aoki, with his quick thinking, could effectively carry out this role.

"Nice bunt, Aoki!"

"Great bunt!" His teammates' cheers echoed through the field.

With a runner now on base, Tokugawa's players finally grew more alert.

"Lead! Lead! Lead!" Aoki continued to distract the pitcher, fully aware that Sendo hadn't given any signals, meaning he had the freedom to act.

Meanwhile, Kondou wouldn't attempt a bunt.

"Safe!"

Aoki's bold antics prompted a pickoff attempt, as the pitcher couldn't ignore his aggressive leads.

Pitching with a runner on base required constant vigilance—splitting attention between the batter and the baserunner with both pickoff throws and stares.

It was exhausting.

The pitcher switched to a more conservative motion, sacrificing velocity and spin rate to maintain control.

"Whoosh!"

"Ping!"

"Foul!" Kondou fouled off an inside pitch that barely grazed the strike zone.

"Does this batter have anything special?" Tokugawa's catcher wondered, unable to recall Kondou standing out in their previous match.

"Lead! Lead! Lead!" Aoki, noticing the opportunity, maintained his distracting rhythm without showing any unusual excitement.

"That cleanup hitter is useless. Once we get this guy out, the inning's over," the catcher concluded.

The pitcher nodded, glanced at first base, and turned back to the mound.

Suddenly—

"Ah!"

"Pop!"

"Safe!"

A lightning-quick pickoff attempt caught the defense by surprise, but Aoki still managed to make it back safely.

Due to pickoff rules, right-handed pitchers cannot lift their pivot foot off the rubber and must step directly toward the base they are targeting; otherwise, it's considered a balk, allowing all runners to advance one base.

When attempting a pickoff at first base, the large rotational movement and throwing motion give runners a reaction time of over one to two seconds.

"Lead! Lead! Lead! Lead! Lead!"

But Aoki wasn't about to let up. He maintained a lead of about five meters.

At this distance, any trained runner—assuming they weren't overly heavy—could safely return to base, making it difficult for the pitcher to effectively counter him.

"So annoying! So noisy!" The pitcher, realizing his pickoffs weren't working and that Aoki's lead was calculated to be within a safe range, decided to let him stay at that distance. Prolonging the stalemate wasn't worth it.

"This third-year ace has a fast pitch, estimated by Sen-chan to top out at around 135 km/h, with an average of 130 km/h when maintaining control. His control is excellent, making hits difficult unless we've had practice against pitches like this, as we've done over the past six months," Kondou analyzed.

For now, he decided to stall and keep the pressure on, occasionally glancing at Aoki on first base, aware of his sly intent.

"Whoo!"

As Kondou exhaled, the pitcher began his delivery.

"Stealing!"

"What? Damn it!" With the batter staying still, the Tokugawa pitcher could only rely on his catcher.

"Pop!"

"Don't underestimate me!" The catcher quickly grabbed the ball and threw it to second base.

"Thud!"

"Safe!"

"Last game, I already noticed this catcher was average. His arm isn't particularly strong," Aoki thought as he reached second base.

Sendo wasn't the type to micromanage every detail.

The players had to assess their own base-stealing opportunities, and Aoki was one of the best at this.

The pitch had been a ball, bringing the count to 1-1.

"Still, we're in control of the situation. If we can get this batter out, we're fine. But we might need to prepare to give up one run," the catcher reflected, quickly regaining his composure after the slight setback.

"Lead! Lead! Lead! Lead! Lead!"

The incessant shouting started again, and the catcher couldn't help but think, This guy just doesn't quit! Nice run, though!

"Pop!"

"Strike!"

"Stealing again?"

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"Pop!"

The ball and Aoki arrived almost simultaneously, but the tag was too late.

The steal was risky, as Tokugawa's catcher wasn't weak enough for stealing to be easy.

"Two strikes already! Infield, move up! Prevent a forced run!"

Though Aoki had made it to third, the situation wasn't entirely critical yet.

"Not looking great," Sendo muttered to himself.

The pitcher returned to his full windup.

"Don't wait for the ball to get to you—swing with full power when it's in front of your body!"

Whoosh!

The bat swung through.

"Pop!"

The count was 2-2, and the pitcher wasn't going to hold back his best breaking ball.

"Strike! Batter out!"

"Yes! Two outs!" the catcher shouted as he stood up, receiving cheers from his teammates.

"Hahaha! Nice job! But now it's my turn!" Sawamura stood up and yelled, "Watch this, Sendo! I'm going to hit a big one!"

"That idiot. Do as you like," Sendo muttered.

"Pop!"

"Batter out! Side retired!"

"Just missed it! Damn it!" Sawamura exaggeratedly knocked his helmet with his bat.

"Alright, now it's our turn to bat. Pay close attention to this pitcher's throws. No need to rush; this game is for your learning," Tokugawa's coach Kunimi instructed at the start of the bottom of the first inning.

"Got it!!!"

Meanwhile, Sendo stretched lazily, yawning.

"What's up?" Sawamura's big head suddenly appeared in front of him, prompting the question.

"Sendo! Don't you have any instructions for us?"

"Nope! Just play however you want."

"Damn it! Fine, let's go!" Sawamura muttered as he rallied the team.

"Pitch-calling and strategies aren't really our style. Plus, we don't have many options anyway! Inside, outside, straight down the middle—bring it on!" Shin, the catcher, declared, raising his glove.

"That's more like it!"

"Pop!"

"Strike!"

"Huh? Is this the same pitch that shut us out for three innings before? It's pretty ordinary!"

Sawamura wasn't pitching at full power, and his quirky pitch didn't have significant movement.

For strong high school batters, the subtle changes in his pitches were negligible.

However, for middle school players, who were physically weaker in terms of explosiveness and strength, even these minor variations could make a difference.

One advantage Sawamura had was that his pitches weren't easy to read.

It's natural for every pitcher's throws to have slight inconsistencies, and batters often adjust without realizing the differences.

The problem, though, was that Sawamura's quirky pitch were inconsistent in an unpredictable way, changing every time.

In their previous match against Seiwa, the opponent's coach had used experience and expertise to deduce Sawamura's patterns.

Tokugawa, despite their streak of victories, didn't have a coach with the same level of insight as Seiwa's.

As a result, an amusing scenario unfolded.

Tokugawa's batters couldn't identify any patterns in Sawamura's pitching.

Since his balls stayed within the strike zone for the most part, batters often found themselves in a 0-2 count.

This left them no choice but to swing, only to strike out or hit weakly into outs.

The only notable takeaway for Tokugawa was Akagi's improved defense.

Their players displayed greater range, agility, and consistency, committing almost no errors—so long as the ball stayed within the infielders' coverage areas.

The first inning ended scoreless, leaving both sides relatively unfazed.

Tokugawa's players felt like they were being toyed with.

They dismissed Sawamura's pitching as unremarkable and began attributing Akagi's success in the fall tournament to luck or good form.

"Is that so?" Coach Kunimi responded when he heard the report.

"We were such fools to think there was some secret behind his pitches!"

"Yeah, seriously!"

"Still, this team has gotten a lot stronger since the fall. At least it's not boring," Tokugawa's players began discussing after the first inning.

"Alright, enough chit-chat. Even if there's no hidden trick, this team isn't as weak as it seems. Let's play seriously and finish the game properly. But since we're here, don't jump to conclusions too quickly. Keep observing while maintaining control of the count," Coach Kunimi instructed.

"Yes, sir!"

Kunimi's timely intervention put a stop to the players' chatter. His approach of withholding final judgment and staying cautious was one of the reasons he consistently led his team to victories.

After all, even the most talented players could fall prey to overconfidence and suffer crushing defeats. Baseball, after all, is one of the most unpredictable sports.

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