Seeing Narumiya i shake his head, Masatoshi Harada frowned.
Is it really ti to use that pitch?
Isn't it too early?
Harada had his own calculations. The ga had only just begun. Revealing their trump card to Seido now would inevitably make the later stages far more difficult.
But one look at Narumiya i told him everything.
Right now, i was unstoppable.
With a quiet sigh, Harada finally gave the signal.
If you're going to do it… then strike him out cleanly.
i.
The mont Narumiya i saw the gesture, his eyes flickered sharply.
This is it.
Whoosh!
His lips parted slightly as his entire body relaxed.
This was a pitch he had planned to unveil in sumr.
Its completion wasn't perfect yet. According to Coach Kunimoto's instructions, it wasn't supposed to be exposed in the Spring tropolitan Tournant—or even the upcoming Kanto Tournant.
But—
That can wait.
If he showed weakness now, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Whoosh!
The baseball slipped from Narumiya i's fingertips.
Kanzaki Ryou locked onto the pitch and swung decisively.
But—
The ball seed to slow in midair.
His bat cut through empty space, missing it by a wide margin.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
A Changeup!
Kanzaki Ryou's pupils shrank.
Narumiya i… had already mastered the Changeup at this stage?!
eting i's faintly arrogant expression, Kanzaki Ryou smiled instead.
Unexpected? Yes.
Surprising? Not really.
After all, Narumiya i was a genius.
Straightening up, Kanzaki stepped out of the batter's box and, to everyone's surprise, raised his thumb toward the mound.
A clear, unreserved acknowledgnt.
In the Seido dugout, the atmosphere imdiately grew heavy.
Narumiya i was already difficult enough to deal with—his fastball hovered around 148 km/h, his control was precise, and he had multiple breaking balls.
Now he had a Changeup.
This was a nightmare scenario for any batting lineup.
Even Kanzaki Ryou, without deliberately throwing at full power, usually maintained speeds around 150 km/h. From that perspective alone, the gap between the two Aces was already incredibly small.
When Kanzaki Ryou was struck out, Inajitsu's cheering section exploded.
Their Ace's counterattack filled them with exhilaration.
Miyuki Kazuya stepped into the batter's box next.
His face was calm, but inwardly, he could only shake his head with a bitter smile.
Sixth batter. No runners on base.
And i had just revealed a new pitch.
This just keeps getting worse.
Narumiya i's feelings toward Miyuki were far more complicated than toward Kanzaki.
Back then, he had invited Miyuki to join Inajitsu with absolute confidence.
And yet—
Ti and again, they had lost to Seido.
It was nothing short of a slap in the face.
Kazuya…
I'll defeat you. I'll defeat all of you.
Three pitches.
Three swings.
Three misses.
Miyuki was struck out.
Only two innings into the ga, the tension between Inajitsu and Seido had already enveloped the entire field. The audience had the strange illusion that this wasn't the Spring tropolitan Tournant at all—
—but the final match of sumr, the ga that decided the ticket to Koshien.
At the end of the second inning, Narumiya i returned to the Inajitsu dugout.
The faint smile on his lips froze instantly when he t Coach Kunimoto's gaze.
I'm done for.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
Only then did he realize how reckless he'd been.
But—
To his surprise, Coach Kunimoto didn't scold him.
Instead, he asked quietly, "The rest of the ga… can you handle it?"
Narumiya i froze.
No reprimand?
Not even a harsh word?
Staring at his coach in disbelief, i almost wondered if sothing was wrong.
"What?" Kunimoto said coldly. "Can't you do it?"
"Yes! I can!" i shouted without hesitation.
Kunimoto nodded.
Though he wasn't entirely pleased with i's decision to expose the Changeup early, he didn't intend to criticize him.
As an experienced coach, Kunimoto knew one thing very well—
Narumiya i was a once-in-a-generation talent.
As long as nothing unexpected happened, his future would be brilliant.
And yet, for so long, he had been suppressed by those two from Seido.
The current Narumiya i was no longer the arrogant freshman who believed himself second only to heaven. A year of hardship and defeat had tempered him. He now understood responsibility, restraint—and resolve.
Since he chose to throw that Changeup, then it must have been necessary.
This was not indulgence.
It was trust.
And respect—for his Ace.
Watching i laugh and joke with his teammates now, Coach Kunimoto felt a subtle warmth in his chest.
Narumiya i hadn't been crushed by repeated losses to Seido.
Instead, those defeats had sharpened both his pitching and his mindset.
He was already a true Ace.
People often say failure is the mother of success.
Kunimoto disagreed.
Failure was just failure.
What mattered was this—
They learned from it.
They refused to accept it.
They wanted to win.
Narumiya i wanted to win.
Inajitsu wanted to win.
The ga moved into the third inning.
Back and forth it went.
Inajitsu couldn't break through Kanzaki Ryou's pitching.
Seido couldn't find an opening against Narumiya i.
The stalemate continued—
Third inning.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Sixth.
Still, 0–0.
Both teams had exhausted their offensive options. Kanzaki Ryou even produced a long hit, but the lineup couldn't connect. The run never ca.
Neither Coach Kunimoto nor Coach Kataoka showed any intention of changing pitchers.
At this stage, even the smallest adjustnt could shatter the balance of the ga.
Once that happened—
No one could predict the outco.
At this critical mont, both coaches made the sa choice.
They trusted their Ace.
"Kanzaki, you tired?" Kuramochi Yoichi asked, sitting beside him.
"Not really," Kanzaki replied with a relaxed smile. "The tempo's fast, and I haven't thrown many pitches."
After a year of intense training, his stamina was no longer what it once was.
The ga had only reached the sixth inning.
His pitch count had just crossed sixty.
He was far from exhausted.
Besides—
It was still spring.
The weather was cool.
His body felt light.
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