After the handshake ceremony, everyone from the Seidou High School Baseball Team stood in a neat line as the school anthem echoed throughout the stadium.
The players sang loudly, their faces glowing with pride and joy. When the anthem ended, they immediately walked over to the stands, bowing and thanking the cheering fans. It wasn't until half a day of nonstop activity passed that they finally returned to the locker room for the scheduled post-game media interview.
Naturally, Coach Kataoka wanted to shield his players from unnecessary distractions at such a crucial time. After answering a few simple questions, he immediately prepared to retreat with the team and return to the hotel.
However, he had underestimated the persistence of the media.
Seeing that Kataoka Tesshin refused to cooperate, one of the reporters contacted someone on Seidou High School's Board of Directors. Not long after the team arrived at the hotel, President Ota received a call from above.
"Coach," Ota said carefully, "the Board thinks that accepting interviews isn't a bad thing… if possible."
Even the principal treated Kataoka Tesshin with deep respect—especially now that he had successfully led Seidou back to Koshien. While the Board wanted to use this opportunity to expand the school's public exposure, they still had to consider Kataoka's stance.
"Interviews are fine," Coach Kataoka said firmly. "But only the third-years will attend."
There were clear reasons for this.
First, the third-year players were more mentally mature, better able to handle praise, loaded questions, and pressure from reporters.
Seidou had advanced into the Top 16 with a commanding victory. Reporters, chasing headlines, would undoubtedly heap endless compliments on the players. If the inexperienced first or second-years were exposed to that, their mentality might waver.
The third-years, on the other hand, had previous interview experience—even if limited.
Most importantly, this Koshien would be their last. If they didn't get the spotlight now, then when?
Especially players like Azuma Kiyokuni. With real chances of going pro, more media attention would only help his future.
As for players like Nanjo, Shida Shota, and Tanaka Wataru, entering professional baseball might be difficult, but greater visibility would still benefit them—whether they planned to attend university or join a collegiate baseball team.
As for the first and second-years, Coach Kataoka intended to keep them away from the cameras until after all Koshien games were over… ideally after winning the championship.
Of course, that plan wasn't realistic. If Seidou advanced further, the media attention would only grow. If they reached the quarterfinals, post-game interviews would be unavoidable.
"I'll arrange it immediately," Ota said.
After selecting the third-years who would attend, Ota led them to the hotel's designated interview hall.
The moment they entered, an avalanche of camera flashes erupted. Rows of reporters sat ready, their eyes sharp and observant.
Their gazes quickly landed on Azuma Kiyokuni.
Ah—Seidou's cleanup hitter and captain. The "Monster Hitter." Definitely a prime interview target.
But as the reporters scanned the group, their initial excitement dimmed. Where was the Ace? And where was the sensational first-year catcher Miyuki Kazuya?
They had heard endless rumors about Seidou's "Twin Stars," and both Kanzaki Ryou and Miyuki were expected to appear—yet neither was present.
Even Yuki Tetsuya, the second-year whose batting rivaled Azuma Kiyokuni, was absent.
Still, despite their disappointment, the interview began.
"Everyone, please calm down. Raise your hands to ask questions—one at a time," Ota instructed.
Once the noise settled, the first reporter stood up.
"First of all, congratulations to Seidou for today's victory."
He then turned to Azuma.
"Azuma Kiyokuni, after five years, Seidou has returned to Koshien and even advanced into the Top 16 with a decisive win over Seika Academy. How do you feel right now?"
Azuma replied with two words.
"Very happy."
"Anything else?"
"Still happy."
"… I see. Then how would you evaluate Seika Academy's performance today?"
"They were very hardworking," Azuma said.
"But they didn't score a single run today," the reporter pressed.
"They still played well," Azuma answered calmly.
The reporter fell silent. Wasn't this guy supposed to be straightforward? Why was he suddenly so cautious?
Ota quickly moved on.
"Azuma Kiyokuni, this Koshien will be your last. What are your plans for the future?"
"Keep playing baseball."
"Does that mean entering professional baseball?"
"Yes."
"What would you like to say about your next opponent?"
"I'm looking forward to it."
…
The interview proceeded smoothly after that. Meanwhile, watching secretly from the shadows, Kanzaki Ryou couldn't help but smirk. These seniors—who were usually so loud and full of personality—had instantly transformed into polite little angels in front of the cameras.
After an afternoon of rest, the entire Seidou team gathered in a small conference room to study their third-round opponent: Kawaji High School, the representative of Ehime Prefecture.
Just like Seika Academy, Kawaji was a rising dark horse. They hadn't appeared in Koshien for over ten years, yet this year they had broken through both the first and second rounds to reach the Top 16—now standing in Seidou's path.
"Pitcher: Aomi Rin, third-year," Chris began, holding a well-organized notebook. "Top velocity: 143 km/h. His arsenal includes a Four-seam fastball, Two-seam fastball, Forkball, and Slider."
He tapped the page.
"Among these, his Forkball is his decisive pitch. His condition tends to fluctuate early in games, so we need to capitalize on that."
The team watched recorded footage carefully.
Kawaji's batting lineup was also solid. While they lacked standout stars, every batter had strong fundamentals. Their tactical execution rivaled that of powerhouse schools. Overall, their strength was clearly higher than Seika Academy's.
As for shutting down their offense as easily as they had Seika's…
Nanjo shook his head.
"That'll be tough. Almost impossible."