On the field, the atmosphere was extremely tense.
Coach Kataoka deliberately placed Sawamura Eijun and Furuya Satoru, the two most anticipated first-year pitchers, on opposing teams. The moment this decision was announced, excitement rippled through the field, adding an unmistakable sense of suspense to the scrimmage.
As soon as the game began, problems surfaced one after another.
Furuya Satoru's pitches were fierce—fast, heavy, and full of power. However, the first-year catchers were clearly unable to adapt to his pitching rhythm. The receiving was unstable, signals were missed, and errors piled up one after another.
Seeing this, Coach Kataoka had no choice but to switch in second-string catchers to receive for Furuya.
With experienced seniors behind the plate, Furuya's pitching finally stabilized.
His fastballs tore through the strike zone like bolts of lightning. The first-year batters were utterly overwhelmed—most of them were struck out before they could even properly adjust to the speed.
For a moment, it looked like the game would turn into a one-sided slaughter.
Then—
Arima Kazusa stepped into the batter's box.
He gripped the bat firmly, his gaze fixed on Furuya standing atop the mound, sharp and focused, like a burning flame.
The next pitch came roaring in—a high-speed fastball.
The trajectory was slightly high.
Perfect.
Arima swung without hesitation.
His movement was smooth and natural, like flowing water.
Bang!
The white ball shot toward deep left field, soaring high through the air.
"This kid is good!" Kanzaki Ryou couldn't help but exclaim.
Ever since Arima Kazusa joined Seidou, Kanzaki had been quietly paying attention to him.
The more he watched, the more convinced he became—this kid possessed extraordinary batting talent.
Arima's sense of rhythm was frighteningly good, almost instinctual. Timing, swing path, balance—everything came together naturally, as if the bat were simply an extension of his body.
Especially his swing.
It was beautiful.
Each motion flowed seamlessly into the next, without wasted effort or hesitation, like a carefully choreographed dance. Watching him hit was genuinely enjoyable.
Although Arima wasn't a typical power hitter, his refined mechanics allowed him to generate force efficiently. Any ball he made clean contact with flew out like a cannon shot, precise and difficult to defend against.
After giving up the long hit, Furuya Satoru glanced toward Arima with clear surprise.
As top players of the same grade, they knew each other well. And knowing Arima was a junior favored by Kanzaki Ryou only intensified Furuya's competitive instinct.
To Furuya, getting hit meant losing.
And losing irritated him.
His next pitches grew even more forceful.
Too forceful.
His control rapidly deteriorated. Balls sailed outside the zone, pitch after pitch missing the catcher's mitt.
"This kid's acting up again," Kanzaki muttered.
"What do you mean?" Fujiwara Takako asked.
"When Furuya's competitive instinct flares up, he subconsciously overthrows. His power increases—but his control collapses."
"I see…" Takako frowned slightly.
"He looked fine in practice."
"Just watch," Kanzaki said calmly.
"If he doesn't adjust soon, the Coach will pull him."
Another walk.
Before Coach Kataoka could even speak, Ochiai Hiromitsu shook his head.
"He's still too immature. He can't control his emotions yet."
Coach Kataoka didn't immediately remove Furuya.
This was only a first-year scrimmage. Letting him experience his flaws firsthand was part of the lesson.
Still, after barely surviving the inning, Furuya left the mound under the frustrated gazes of his teammates, his expression gloomy and confused.
No one could hit him.
Yet he kept walking batters.
In his mind, the ball was clearly going toward the catcher's mitt. He had no idea that his subconscious overexertion was betraying him.
"Yahahaha! It's time for Sawamura-sama to take the stage!"
Amid wild laughter, Sawamura Eijun marched onto the mound with a crab-like swagger.
The results were immediate—and chaotic.
Batters kept making contact. Balls flew all over the field. The fielders behind Sawamura were forced to stay fully alert, not daring to relax for even a second.
"He's a pitcher who relies heavily on his defense," Ochiai commented.
"Even so," Takashima Rei said proudly,
"very few batters have actually managed to get clean hits off him."
Ochiai nodded thoughtfully.
"His hidden release point, combined with that natural tailing action… his potential might even exceed Furuya Satoru's."
Coach Kataoka nodded in agreement.
Both pitchers had flaws—but one was a pure power pitcher, while the other was a tricky left-hander with unusual movement.
If trained properly, Seidou wouldn't need to worry about pitching depth for the next two and a half years.
Takashima Rei watched Sawamura with anticipation.
Based on today's performance, promotion to the second string shouldn't be difficult.
Just then—
A small boy with pink hair stepped into the batter's box.
Bang!
After watching two pitches, Kominato Haruichi decisively swung on the third, threading the ball cleanly through the gap between first and second base.
Eijun-kun… sorry.
Standing on first base, Haruichi smiled gently at the bewildered Sawamura on the mound.
"Tch!"
Sawamura glared back, eyes sharp like an angry cat.
Then Haruichi feinted a steal.
Sawamura's attention snapped to him—again and again.
"Pickoff violation!"
"Hahaha!"
"What an idiot!"
"Moron!"
The laughter from the sidelines echoed mercilessly.
Sawamura's face turned bright red as he took a deep, furious breath on the mound.
Heh.
Kanzaki Ryou chuckled softly and closed the folder in his hands.
"Not watching anymore?" Fujiwara Takako asked.
"Mhm."
Kanzaki picked up his bat and headed toward the B Field, where the second string was training relentlessly, all of them eyeing the upcoming practice matches after the Spring Metropolitan Tournament.
Time flew by.
The day of the Spring Metropolitan Tournament Finals arrived.
Seidou High School vs Inashiro Industrial High School.
Once again, old rivals met on the biggest stage.
Inside Inashiro's locker room, Narumiya Mei sat silently after changing into his uniform.
"Mei," Harada Masatoshi asked quietly, standing before him,
"are you ready?"
Narumiya Mei gave a low hum.
Then he stood up.
Without another word, he walked toward the door.
The finals—
Were about to begin.