Zhang Han caught the ball cleanly near the warning track and felt the small satisfaction of a play executed correctly. Two outs. The inning was close to ending. As long as the rhythm held, the first inning could be navigated without damage.
Then Isashiki's voice cut across the outfield.
"Second base!"
Zhang Han processed the call and turned imdiately. Shirakawa had not waited. He was already in motion toward second base, running without hesitation the mont the ball had settled into Zhang Han's glove.
Zhang Han set himself and threw.
The ball traveled the distance quickly and accurately in the sense that it arrived in the vicinity of second base. The problem was the vicinity. The throw landed approximately two ters from where Kuramochi was positioned, requiring him to move laterally to collect it before he could attempt anything at the bag.
By then, Shirakawa was standing on second base.
Kuramochi collected the errant throw with the expression of soone suppressing a more direct reaction.
"Where exactly were you throwing that?"
Zhang Han stood in the outfield and looked at his left hand for a mont. The calculation Inashiro had made was becoming clear. A pitcher who had transitioned to left-handed throwing within the last few months carried specific limitations in his throwing accuracy from the outfield. A runner aggressive enough to test that accuracy in a two-out situation with nothing to lose stood a reasonable chance of taking the base.
They had known this. They had planned for it.
Zhang Han felt the chill of that recognition settle over him.
The previous eting between these two programs had happened two months ago at Jingu Stadium, and Zhang Han had competed in it with the uncomplicated intensity of a first-year who had not yet developed the habit of thinking too deeply about an opponent's preparation.
They had won that ga. The margin between the two teams had been narrow enough that the outco could have gone either way, and the third-year seniors had shouldered most of the ga's weight. Zhang Han had contributed but had not been the primary load-bearer.
This ga was different. The seniors were gone, and the weight was distributed differently now.
Coming into contact with the full force of what Inashiro had prepared was landing with more impact than he had anticipated.
Two outs. Runner on second. Harada Masatoshi stepping to the plate.
Tanba stood on the mound and looked at Shirakawa on second base with a cold expression that gave nothing away about what was happening underneath it. Then he turned back to the plate and threw with complete commitnt, the delivery fluid and the pitch carrying the power that had always been the genuine foundation of his ga.
In the Inashiro dugout, Coach Kunimoto watched and made his own adjustnt.
The approach of extending at-bats and applying slow pressure to Tanba's psychological state had produced Shirakawa's advancent to second base, but it had not produced the collapse that the strategy was designed to trigger. Tanba's posture and delivery through the last several pitches were not the posture and delivery of a pitcher coming apart under pressure.
He had grown since Koshien. Not dramatically, not in every area, but the specific fragility that had been exploited in previous gas was less accessible than it had been. Trying to defeat him through accumulated psychological pressure was less reliable now than the scouting data from earlier in the season suggested.
Coach Kunimoto signaled to Harada.
Stop managing the at-bat. Hit the ball.
Harada received the instruction and refocused. The previous pitch had demonstrated sothing important: Tanba's high-breaking curveball still had genuine quality. The drop was steeper than Harada had calibrated for in preparation, which ant adjustnts were required even when the pitch location was anticipated.
The next pitch broke.
Harada had waited for it and swung with full commitnt despite the adjustnt required. The contact he made was not what he had ideally wanted, but it was contact. The ball traveled into the outfield and landed on the grass, bouncing forward.
Shirakawa was moving the mont the ball hit the ground, reading the trajectory toward third base. He rounded the bag and imdiately read the return throw.
Isashiki Jun had already released from center field.
The throw arrived like sothing that had been fired rather than thrown, a flat trajectory that closed the distance between the outfield and ho plate with a speed that made Shirakawa's calculation straightforward and imdiate. Two steps past third base and the read was clear: the throw was going to beat him.
He retreated to third.
Isashiki received this outco with visible disappointnt and a specific complaint directed at Shirakawa's decision-making that was audible from a considerable distance.
Two outs. Runners on first and third.
The Inashiro dugout sent its next batter to the plate, and the stands recognized him before he had fully erged.
Narumiya i walked to the box with the particular ease of soone who had been waiting for his turn and was not experiencing any anxiety about its arrival. He looked toward the plate, found Miyuki behind it, and offered a greeting that was both genuine and competitive simultaneously.
"In the end, it really does take the Ace to sort things out."
Miyuki looked at him.
"I expected you to co back with a cold face after losing last ti. Didn't think you'd be this relaxed about it."
"Don't bring up old scores."
The exchange lasted two sentences before it produced an intervention from the umpire, who had been watching with diminishing patience and issued a warning to both parties.
"Provoking an opponent during official competition was not permitted, and continued behavior of this kind would result in ejection from the ga."
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