"I'm fine… I can still pitch," Kana Manaka said as he forced himself back to his feet, his face still twisted with pain. "It's just a little sore. Nothing serious."
Everyone urged him to head to the infirmary, but Manaka refused without hesitation. He understood his own condition better than anyone.
The ball hadn't struck his body—it had only slamd into his glove. The pain lingering on his face ca from the fall and the delayed reaction. It would pass.
Even so, his teammates insisted on checking him thoroughly. Only after confirming he was truly unhard did they finally relax.
"Phew… that nearly gave a heart attack," Coach Tahara muttered, collapsing back into his seat.
"Hmph. They're persistent," Todoroki Raizō snorted, clearly displeased. Then he turned to Kitamura Kou, who had returned to the dugout during the brief pause. "Raichi's been shut down. Whether we win now depends on you."
"I don't like taking advantage of soone's misfortune," Kou replied with a faint smile, his eyes still locked on Manaka. "But from the looks of it… he doesn't need any rcy."
After a short break, the ga resud.
Kitamura Kou stepped into the batter's box, his gaze fixed on Manaka. The pitcher seed to be surrounded by a burning aura—his confidence and montum had only grown after striking out Todoroki Raichi.
Good, Kou thought, settling into his stance. Then I won't hold back either. Bring it on.
Facing the very batter who had shaken him earlier, Manaka's expression darkened. Without hesitation, he unleashed his best pitch.
The ball tore through the air toward the plate—
—but Kou didn't move.
Snap!
"Ball!" the umpire called.
Manaka clicked his tongue and imdiately threw another high-speed slider, breaking sharply out of the strike zone.
Kou remained perfectly still.
"Tch… did he see through it?" Takami Akira wondered, eyeing Kou's calm, unshaken expression. Or is it just coincidence?
He didn't dwell on it for long.
Fine… let's test him again.
This ti, he set the target low and inside, near the knee.
Manaka didn't hesitate. After confirming the sign, he delivered the pitch.
This ti, it wasn't a slider.
A four-seam fastball—142 km/h—cut toward the lower inside corner… just off the plate.
Three straight balls.
Kou's eyes sharpened slightly.
No easy pitches at all…
He exhaled slowly.
I'm not confident hitting that slider—but a fastball? That's different.
His body moved before the thought even finished forming.
Step—pivot—swing!
"Got him!" Akira thought, a flicker of excitent flashing across his face. His form's off!
Ping!
The ball t the very tip of Kou's bat.
The contact wasn't clean—but Kou adjusted instantly. Releasing his left hand, he powered the swing with his right, forcing the ball forward.
"Third!" Akira shouted.
Because the pitch was so low, the ball shot straight into the infield. Still, Kou's last-second adjustnt gave it just enough speed.
Takahiro Omae reacted quickly, blocking the ball in front of him.
"Throw to first—!"
Before Akira could finish—
A blur streaked across the field.
By the ti Omae gathered the ball and prepared to throw—
Kou was already on the base.
"Safe!"
"Wha—?! That was fast!"
"He reached first in an instant! Is that even real?!"
"That speed… it might be faster than Yoichi Kuramochi from Seidou!"
"And that power too—where did Yakushi find a monster like him?!"
The crowd erupted in shock.
"Hehe! Kou's a three-ti 100-ter champion at Seishuu Junior High!" Tsukishima Wakaba said proudly.
"Yeah, yeah, your Kou's the best in Japan," Tsukishima Aoba replied dryly. "At this rate, you'll start saying he throws 160 km/h."
"He definitely can," Wakaba said without hesitation.
"…Right." Aoba let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"You don't believe ? My predictions are always accurate," Wakaba added with a cheerful smile. "You'll see."
Aoba was left speechless.
"That speed is ridiculous…" Takami Akira muttered, staring at Kou, who stood grinning on first base.
Manaka glared at him, anger burning in his eyes.
"You brat… standing that far off the base? Don't underestimate !"
He fired a sharp pickoff throw to first.
Kou reacted instantly, diving back.
Snap!
"Safe!"
Manaka tried again.
And again.
Four consecutive pickoff attempts—
all unsuccessful.
"Manaka-senpai, don't worry about the runner," Akira called, patting his glove to refocus him. "Leave him to . Just concentrate on the batter."
Manaka took a deep breath, forcing his emotions down.
After exchanging signals, he reset on the mound.
The mont Kou's footing shifted—
he took off.
"He's stealing!" Mamoru Hoshida shouted.
Sensing it, Manaka subtly altered his pitch.
Takami reacted imdiately, rising from his crouch, body coiled to throw.
Snap!
The ball hit his mitt cleanly.
In one smooth motion, he transferred it to his throwing hand—
and fired toward second base with everything he had.
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