Chapter 287: Unable to Help but Believe
"Damn it—so close! Ah!!"
Just as Miyuki was once again thanking his luck over that forkball, Narumiya Mei was already back into his pitching motion.
"Whoosh!"
"Here it comes—fastball!"
Clack!
"Ah!"
Narumiya cried out instinctively.
Whoosh!
Thud—snap!
That ball—nearly a guaranteed hit—took a sharp bounce off the ground, only to be snatched up by Hirai Tsubasa with an absolutely desperate dive. You could even say there was a huge element of luck involved. If that ball had slipped through, at least one run would've scored.
Snap!
"Out!"
Hirai didn't even have time to stand up or take the ball out of his glove—he simply flicked his gloved hand and completed the throw.
Miyuki, still running the bases, clenched his teeth in frustration.
That swing had been just slightly overpowered by the pitch's force, and his timing was a fraction late—but the contact itself had been perfect.
Inashiro's infield defense was just as solid as Seidou's—maybe even luckier.
On the Seidou bench, disappointment spread across everyone's faces. A rally starting from the heart of the lineup—there was no better chance than that. And yet, they hadn't scored a single run.
They could see the light of a run ahead… but no one knew if they would reach it in time.
"Three outs, sides retired! This time it was second baseman Hirai Tsubasa! Inashiro safely survives Seidou's heart-of-the-order assault!!!"
The commentator didn't bother with details—he just praised it.
"So close… Even in that condition, Mei can still induce that kind of contact?"
Harada muttered warily as he walked off the field.
"Nice pitching, Mei-san!"
Tachibana called out as Narumiya returned to the bench.
"Nice… pitching?"
Narumiya repeated, his tone unreadable.
Tachibana didn't know how to respond.
Narumiya said nothing further and walked past him, sitting down to put on his protective gear.
"That hit… was pure luck. And…!"
His voice slowed, stopping short at the intentional walk.
That decision still burned. But he knew his condition had wavered—even just slightly—and for the sake of winning, he'd had to grit his teeth and do it.
And then there was that look from Sendo.
To Narumiya, it felt like a wound.
Even though—truthfully—it was all in his head.
"As long as we win… I'll accept anything."
That was the conclusion he forced upon himself.
"Don't dwell on it! Let's shut them down this inning!"
On the other side, Sawamura shouted as the fielders returned.
"Yeah! We're not done yet—take them out one by one!"
Isashiki yelled, pressing a hand down on Sawamura's head.
Ever since crying in the bottom of the ninth, Isashiki had gone all in—like someone who'd already died once and come back with nothing left to fear.
"Yeah."
Yuki nodded solemnly.
"Sendo, quit smirking and say something!"
Isashiki snapped, deliberately putting pressure on the junior who always broke the tension.
Everyone turned their eyes toward him—the biggest contributor of the game.
Sendo smiled lightly.
"The thought of us losing this game…"
"…hasn't crossed my mind even once."
"…This guy—what the hell is his heart made of?"
No matter how arrogant his words sounded, they made people want to believe him.
Aside from a few airheads, the seniors couldn't help but smile.
It felt like Sendo had just told a joke—something that relaxed them.
Was he blind to reality?
Was he just arrogant?
No.
He simply refused to give up—refused to lose faith in himself and his teammates until the very end.
"Hmph. Arrogant brat."
Coach Kataoka snorted.
Chris smiled faintly. He knew full well—that was praise.
With just one sentence, Sendo had pulled teammates back from the brink of despair. That alone showed the shape of his leadership—and the trust others placed in him.
Like Sendo from Slam Dunk—no matter the situation, as long as he stood firm, no one wavered.
Seidou's Sendo was beginning to carry that same presence.
For just a moment, Kataoka even felt the impulse to make him captain next year.
Just a moment.
High school teams rarely make underclassmen captains—even if they become de facto leaders. Titles mattered less than hierarchy.
(Just like Ryonan in Slam Dunk: Sendoh was the soul, but Uozumi wore the armband.)
And besides, there were still strong candidates among the second-years.
Kataoka glanced at Miyuki, briefly imagining the future of this team—and this duo.
Then he discarded the thought.
Now wasn't the time.
"Sawamura—be ready to go in at any moment."
"Yes!"
"Trust your baseball. Trust the work you've put in. Clench your teeth and endure. Your chance will come again. Beat them—and walk off this field smiling."
"Yes!!"
"Alright!!!"
The players broke into smiles as they listened.
"Let's go!"
"Yeah!!!"
They followed behind Yuki onto the field.
"Finish them here. Sit on the fastball—even if it's a ball, swing if you think you can drive it!"
Coach Kunimoto issued his command from above, full of kingly authority.
The players understood—that arrogance wasn't aimed at them.
It was the pride of a reigning champion.
And sometimes, pride was a weapon.
"We won't let our crown be tarnished."
"Yeah!!!"
"RAAAH!!!"
Inashiro roared back—Yabe's shout sounding more like some unknown beast than a human.
Since the bottom of the ninth, every single moment of this game had been a matter of life and death.
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