Chapter 251: Opening Game
"Top of the first inning! Inashiro Industrial takes the field!"
"And standing on the mound, of course, is this man—
the second-year ace of Inashiro, who has yet to give up a single run this entire tournament—Narumiya Mei!
Catching for him is the team captain and cleanup hitter, third-year Harada Masahiro!
Four of their nine starters are key returners—the heart of this powerhouse lineup.
And today, they'll be facing one of the most formidable batting orders in the nation.
Especially the fourth and fifth batters—Yuuki Tetsuya and Sendo Akira—a duo hailed as the number one batting pair in Japan!"
....
"Number one in the nation?" Ichiro Sendo asked curiously.
"Yes," Coach Nakanishi explained.
"Yuuki, Seidou's cleanup hitter, is already a top-tier batter on a national level—and now Sendo has reached a level equal to his. When two of the best hitters in the country stand back-to-back in a lineup,
it's only natural they're called number one."
"Really now? I didn't think my boy would actually pull that off!" Ichiro said with a proud grin.
....
"Until we're cornered, don't swing at anything you can't hit! Forget about striking out—wait for the pitch you know you can drive!" Kataoka commanded.
"In this heat, the more pitches we make him throw,
even Narumiya will start slipping up eventually."
"Got it!" the team answered together.
"Sendo!"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to overthink it. Just enjoy the fight against Narumiya. You've been waiting for this battle, haven't you?"
"Yeah. But Uncle Shades—even if you didn't say it, I was planning to do that anyway," Sendo replied with a faint smile.
"Let's go!!" Captain Yuuki shouted.
"Yosh!!!"
....
"Inashiro's ace Narumiya hasn't given up a single run this tournament. How Seidou plans to break through him will likely decide this entire game," reporter Owada said from the press box to veteran commentator Mine-senpai.
"Right. Compared to Inashiro, who relies on their unshakable ace, Seidou's strength lies in their deep pitching staff. It's fair to say the outcome will depend on the performance of both sides' pitchers," Mine replied.
Even he couldn't bring himself to claim offense would win the day.
While scoring runs was vital, in the end, baseball games were won through defense—only a solid defense gives the offense time to find its rhythm.
....
"Stay sharp out there!" Harada called from behind the plate as the first batter stepped up.
"Yeah!!"
"Top of the first inning—Seidou High School batting.
Leading off, the shortstop, Kuramochi Youichi!"
Kuramochi took the left batter's box—partly to get a better look at Narumiya's pitches, though the ace assumed he was preparing for a bunt-and-run.
Normally, left-handed batting does improve pitch visibility, but Narumiya's weapon—his devastating change-up— was particularly brutal against left-handed hitters.
The third baseman crept forward, ready to charge at any sign of a bunt.
Narumiya, full of confidence, began his windup.
As the third baseman sprinted forward, Kuramochi indeed took a bunting stance—but when he saw the pitch, he didn't swing.
Narumiya was convinced Kuramochi was going for a bunt, and Kuramochi kept up the act, holding the bat out but refusing to touch the bad pitches.
The third baseman kept running in and backing out repeatedly, his nerves fraying with every fake.
When a pitcher gets fixated on preventing a bunt,
their rhythm often breaks—and the strike zone slips.
"No bunt, huh?!" Narumiya barked as the umpire called,
"Ball four—batter takes first base!"
....
"Second batter, second baseman—Kominato Ryosuke!"
Coach Kataoka immediately began signaling from the dugout.
The usual play here would be a sacrifice bunt to advance the runner—a rare scoring opportunity this early couldn't be wasted.
(Haven't we heard that line before…?)
Kuramochi took a wide lead off first, teasing Narumiya's nerves.
He and Sawamura were frighteningly alike in that regard.
"Die inside!"
"Pop!"
Narumiya, who wasn't great at pickoffs,
still fired throw after throw to first in frustration—
a habit Sawamura himself would later develop.
But with Narumiya's attention divided, Harada suspected Seidou might try a hit-and-run, so he told his ace to focus on the batter.
Just as they'd discussed in the meeting, Narumiya wasn't great at pickoffs—but his quick pitch was lightning fast.
That, too, could lead to openings.
Careful yet aggressive—that was Seidou baseball.
....
Whether it was from a good night's sleep or the thrill of facing Narumiya, Sendo's focus today was razor-sharp.
You haven't settled in yet, have you? he thought as he watched Narumiya on the mound.
Don't blame us if we take advantage of that.
Kuramochi took a deep breath, eyes locked on Narumiya's feet.
The moment the ace's leg lifted—
"Steal!!"
Narumiya's motion was fast, but Kuramochi's jump was perfect.
"No way!!"
"Is he serious?!"
Gasps erupted from the stands.
"Don't underestimate him!" Harada snapped, snapping up the ball.
"Pop!"
"Safe!!"
"Stolen base successful! What incredible speed! Even with the pitcher and catcher on full alert, Kuramochi pulls it off! Once this man's on base, Seidou's scoring odds skyrocket—and already, in the first inning, the level of play is breathtaking!"
Shirakawa, watching from the outfield, could see it clearly now—Kuramochi's top speed was nearly equal to Carlos's.
But then he remembered—Seidou's fastest runner wasn't even him…
He glanced toward Sendo.
Ironically, Sendo was so focused today he didn't even notice.
With the pressure mounting, Ryosuke went for a sacrifice bunt—a slider came in low, and he tapped it almost one-handed.
"Take the safe out!" Harada ordered, and they managed to retire Ryosuke while Kuramochi advanced to third.
Next came Jun-san, who, under Kataoka's signal, aimed for the first pitch.
Narumiya still hadn't fully found his rhythm—
this was their best chance to strike first.
But for some reason, Jun aimed for the inside pitch.
"Probably a slider," Sendo muttered as he adjusted his helmet beside the coach's box.
"Hm?" Manager Ota blinked.
"Crack!"
Before he could even ask, Jun connected—
smashing the inside slider into play.
The ball wasn't hit deep, but as Jun shouted and sprinted down the line, it dropped perfectly between left field and first base!
"You've got to be kidding me!" Narumiya exclaimed.
That was supposed to be a safe, easy pitch.
"Seidou High School scores first!!"
It was partly luck, sure—but an invaluable run nonetheless.
....
"Sendo, what was that?" Manager Ota asked.
"They were already expecting Ryosuke's bunt.
He's the kind of contact hitter who can handle any pitch, and Narumiya's fastball isn't sharp enough yet to jam him completely. So, odds are, they'd go with a breaking ball. That catcher—he's desperate to get out of this jam. That means they'll gamble on a one-pitch out rather than building a count. So the pitch had to be a slider. It's just how that catcher thinks."
"Can you really predict that much?"
"Not really—it's just probability," Sendo said with a shrug, picking up his bat and stepping out of the dugout.
....
"And now—the nation's top two hitters take the stage!
If Inashiro can withstand this heart of Seidou's lineup,
they'll keep their momentum alive!"
"Cleanup hitter, first baseman—Yuuki Tetsuya!"
"The man! The myth! If you had to describe him—it'd be as a star cutting across the night sky!"
The third-years in the cheering section struck dramatic poses and began loudly singing Yuuki's theme song— with hip thrusts and all. No one could take them seriously, but it sure fired up the crowd.
Even this early run showed Inashiro that Seidou was nothing like their past opponents.
"Hm?" Sendo noticed Narumiya's expression shift—
into that arrogant, condescending smirk he knew all too well.
"So you're getting serious now? That's more like it," Sendo thought, his pulse quickening with excitement.
"Yo, Tetsu! Give us a big one—end it in one shot!"
"Pop!"
(The sound of Yuuki's bat connected—just as the inning's true battle began.)
"Safe!—"
Before the umpire could even finish the call, Jun-san was cut off by a blindingly fast pickoff throw.
Narumiya Mei—now completely serious—had quickened his motion. His pickoff move was sharper than before.
No more tricks. Let's settle this head-on, Tetsu-san.
Sendo thought quietly to himself, though it sounded as if he were also speaking to his own heart.
In a game this intense, relying on gimmicks would just cheapen it.
Meanwhile, Narumiya had already begun his next pitch.
Every motion in his delivery radiated sheer killing intent.
His glare from the mound bore down on the batter like a predator looking down from above.
"Fwoosh!"
"Tch—! Too easy to hit!"
Just like before, the same setup triggered the same result—Narumiya fired a fastball straight down the middle.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
But though it was centered, the pitch was blistering—nearly 150 km/h (93 mph).
Yuuki Tetsuya could easily connect with fastballs from a pitching machine at that speed…yet this one blew straight past him.
That was the difference between a machine and a living, breathing pitcher.
"So fast! But this isn't dominance—it's… a tantrum."
From the dugout, Miyuki narrowed his eyes.
"Mei's just showing off. He's forcing it.
And that kind of start—it's our chance to strike while he's unstable."
"If you can hit it, that is," murmured an old man twirling his mustache in the stands.
"Tch, keep pitching like that and you'll pay for it," Sendo muttered under his breath.
Seeing Narumiya's reckless posture, he relaxed, sitting casually on the dugout floor.
His expression seemed to say: Even if you throw with all your might, you won't touch me.
But everyone knew—pitches like that, if overused, would soon get punished.
Even Narumiya understood: that last one was pure venting—frustration from the earlier hit bleeding through his control.
From the stands, the cheer songs rose again, the managers' voices mixing into the chorus.
Amid Seidou's rhythmic chants, Narumiya wound up for his second pitch.
"Fwoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Ball!"
Inside and high—so close Yuuki had to tilt his head to avoid it.
That first down-the-middle heater had completely thrown off Harada's pitch sequence; now he was trying to reset the tone with junk pitches to widen the zone again.
"Pop!"
"Ball two!"
Another miss—this one low and away.
"So that's the plan, huh? Banking on Tetsu-san refusing to swing at garbage pitches, just to give the pitcher time to settle…" Sendo whispered with a half-smile.
"Clever old fox."
Though Narumiya's 150 km/h fastball had struck Yuuki out of rhythm, his delivery was visibly stiff—tension showing in every motion.
Harada clearly wanted him to regain rhythm with those two waste pitches.
Otherwise, if Narumiya lost control of his off-speed,
a mis-thrown change-up would be a gift—unlike the fastball, there'd be no raw speed to cover the mistake.
While most spectators assumed the next pitch would be a change-up, Sendo disagreed.
Knowing Harada, he'll test the waters first—see how both Narumiya and Yuuki respond.
He won't use the change-up yet.
That meant it'd likely be either a slider or another fastball.
And given the situation, slider seemed more probable.
A splitter required delicate finger control, and any stiffness in the grip could alter the movement completely.
And sure enough—on the fourth pitch, Harada called for an outside fastball.
Yuuki timed it perfectly, but didn't square it up;
the ball whizzed off behind him into the stands—foul.
"I see… you've grown a little, haven't you, Harada?"
Sendo smiled faintly from the dugout.
"Six years ago, you'd have gone for the safest call every time. But the fastball wasn't a bad choice.
Tetsu-san's been pushed back in the count, and I doubt you'll dare throw another heater now. The next one's bound to be a change-up or a splitter. I wonder which you'll use on me later."
Sendo's mind wandered as if he weren't part of the game at all—an observer analyzing a chess match from afar.
It wasn't that he'd "figured Harada out" completely;
it was just that Narumiya's current condition left few safe options.
Even if Sendo were the one calling pitches, he'd make the same choices.
Trying for a splitter or change-up too soon risked a hanging mistake, and only a fool—or a suicidal catcher—would call that now.
Harada, of course, wouldn't let the game drift Seidou's way.
So, Sendo was certain: the next pitch would be a change-up.
Because that was Narumiya Mei's finisher—his so-called "deciding pitch."
A true "deciding pitch" was one so confident that even if the batter knew it was coming, he still couldn't hit it.
Sendo couldn't recall every detail from his past life,
but one thing he remembered clearly—Narumiya Mei had always believed in his change-up.
That superstition ran deep.
Which also meant—in their last game, something about that pitch must've gone wrong.
It had looked hittable—its speed dropping dramatically, but without any visual difference in his motion.
It looked identical to his fastball… yet came in far too softly.
That wasn't a true finisher—it was a gift.
Sendo couldn't explain all that to his teammates right now.
Once he saw it for himself, he'd know.
No need to overthink it.
Honestly, he thought, if Narumiya's fastball were two levels faster, and the speed gap between that and his change-up wider, then that pitch might actually deserve to be called a finisher.
But for now—Sendo just wanted to see it for himself.
To witness the real Narumiya Mei's "deciding pitch."
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