Two outs, bases empty.
Takigawa switched gears: strike-outs were the only option.
A tough task, no doubt.
But they had no choice.
Seikō's hitters could blast the ball out of the park even on a bad hit.
Seidō's defense was solid, sure,
But not everyone had Takumi's instincts.
He could read the ball's trajectory like a book, a gift.
The others were just average, and average guys make errors.
Even Takigawa could only pull off those plays in the outfield.
In the infield, his reaction time wasn't fast enough.
But he missed one critical detail: Yoshida couldn't adapt on the fly.
Swish!
Takigawa's eyes widened as he watched Yoshida's pitch.
'Why didn't that pitch break?' he thought frantically.
They needed strike-outs, and straight balls weren't going to cut it.
They needed breaking balls.
Yoshida's breaking balls were his bread and butter, the reason he was the Ace.
But this time, he threw it like a fastball.
The batter was Seikō's number three, a real threat.
He was about to send it into orbit!
Takigawa knew it in his gut.
Even though Takumi snagged the last two outfield hits, those blasts put Yoshida on edge.
That pressure led to the mistake, a realization that hit Takigawa too late.
The ball sailed to the same spot as the others.
Takumi tracked it, ready to backpedal.
But the wall loomed behind him.
He wasn't Kuramochi Yōichi; he couldn't leap over the fence.
He could only watch as the ball landed in the stands.
"It's out!!" Seikō cheered wildly.
Takumi's catches had them rattled, their power swings seemingly useless against Seidō.
It was unnerving.
Now, the slate was clean.
Their offense was working!
"Seikō scored first! The score is 0-1!" The young commentator exclaimed excitedly.
She'd thought baseball would be a snooze-fest, nothing like the quickfire scoring of basketball.
But this game? It was a rollercoaster.
So many shifts in momentum.
Seidō, who seemed to have the advantage, gave up a run first.
Seidō, who seemed to have the upper hand, just gave up the first run.
How did that even happen?
She couldn't explain it, but she was glued to the field, eyes wide, determined not to miss a thing.
This game was going to be a wild ride.
Seikō's cleanup hitter was up next—a mountain of a man, towering at 185 centimeters and packing over 100 kilos.
The ump even felt a shiver when he stepped up to the plate.
Yoshida, on the mound, had fire in his bloodshot eyes.
As the team's Ace, he felt like his pride had been shattered.
Fists clenched, he glared at the batter.
"Stay strong, take the first pitch!" Coach Kumagiri called out, trying to rally him.
First pitch, swing?
Yoshida gritted his teeth.
He knew his pitching wasn't on Takumi's level.
But he was still Seidō's Ace, and he had to fight for his team.
But the other team had pushed him to the edge.
"Eat this!" he shouted, throwing every ounce of fury into the ball, trying to blow past the batter.
The cleanup hitter swung.
CRACK!
The bat slammed into the ball.
It rocketed through the air, landing way back in the stands.
"Another one gone!" A fan cried out in disbelief.
"Seikō scores again! The score is 0-2," the commentator announced, her voice echoing the shock in the stadium.
Seidō was down 0-2, and against a team they should be handling.
Back in the Seikō dugout, Coach Kumagiri nodded with satisfaction.
All that strength training was paying off big time.
He'd faced plenty of doubts during training, but results were what counted.
If they could take down Seidō and knock out the other two big teams, they'd be set.
'If I get them to Koshien, everyone will be singing me praises,' he thought, a smug grin spreading across his face.
"Friendship first, competition second"? Yeah, right. In sports, it's all about winning, as long as you're not cheating.
You win, everyone's happy, simple as that.
The score was 0-2, two outs, bases empty.
Seikō's fifth batter walked up to the plate.
They could smell blood in the water—the other team's Ace was rattled.
This was their chance, and they had to seize it.
Seikō's fifth batter raised his bat, expecting to face a shaken pitcher.
But as he stepped into the batter's box, Yoshida seemed totally calm.
'What the...?' The fifth batter was thrown off.
He'd barely settled in, and the guy on the mound looked like a completely different player.