Chapter 329: Battery
"And in the fourth inning, Yokohama Kohoku Academy is still hitless against Seidou's freshman pitchers!"
The commentator announced the statistic to the entire stadium.
Anyone with eyes could see it—Yokohama was already showing signs of collapse.
Seidou had scored only two runs, but they weren't lacking in hits. What they lacked was a bit of luck.
Those two terrifying swings by Sendo—if fortune had tilted even slightly in their favor, the score would already be four–nil, maybe even five–nil.
Their batting lineup showed no signs of being suppressed at all.
On the other hand, Yokohama's only baserunner so far had come from a walk issued by Furuya due to control trouble.
If they couldn't find a way to break through Seidou's pitching relay, the flow of the game would tilt completely toward Seidou—not to mention that Seidou's momentum and offensive pressure were only growing stronger.
Yokohama's players could never have imagined that just a few months ago, they'd managed to score five or six runs in seven innings off Seidou's then-unstable ace.
And now?
Two freshman pitchers were holding them hitless.
Yokohama's lineup was a balanced one—everyone had the ability to get a hit. Once they got rolling, the lineup could connect and become a real nuisance.
But that balance was also their weakness.
In a tough, grinding battle like this, they lacked a slugger who could crack the game open with sheer individual power.
That was Yokohama's tragedy.
They were somewhat similar to Seidou's West Tokyo opponent Seihou from Sawamura's second year—but after Sano Shuzo retired, Seihou's "machine-gun lineup" truly lived up to its name.
Even against a Sawamura in peak condition, they'd kept creating chances, relentlessly pressuring him without pause.
...
"Bottom of the fourth inning, Seidou High School's turn at bat. Fifth batter! First baseman, Yuuki!"
"Hold the line this inning! We still have a chance!"
At this moment, Furano was the first to shout, rallying the team.
"Yeah!!!"
Even though defeat seemed imminent, it was still only a sign of defeat.
They had simply underestimated Seidou's pitching staff.
But as long as the score stayed close—if they could keep Seidou under four or five runs—nothing was decided yet.
That belief was what kept Yokohama Kouhoku Academy's players going.
After all, if the gap grew too large, it would be hopeless.
Seidou had too many reliable pitchers—blowing up just one wouldn't be enough.
This was effectively Yuuki's first true showdown with Yokohama's pitcher–catcher battery.
The previous time didn't really count—Sendo had "cheated" by giving him advance information, so Yuuki hadn't needed to adapt to the pitch mix.
"Whoosh!"
"Ball!"
The first pitch was a clearly off-the-plate pitch to the outside.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"The second pitch is an inside slider! The count is now one ball, one strike. Where will the third pitch go?"
The commentator did his best to stir up the atmosphere.
"Whoosh!"
"Ball!"
"This one is another ball, high and outside!
Not everyone can reach a pitch that far outside like Sendo can!"
"Hoo…"
"That's right, Ino! Stay calm! No matter how great the batter is, he can't hit every pitch. As long as we don't give him something easy to hit!"
Shiraha's pitch calling was excellent.
First, off-the-plate balls to keep the batter from swinging.
Then a second pitch that looked like another inside ball, only to break sharply into the strike zone—Yuuki swung and fouled it off.
Now, with Yuuki tensing up and ready to swing again, they followed it with another ball to disrupt his timing.
This kind of mixing balls and strikes to break a batter's rhythm wasn't uncommon in baseball.
The problem was that most pitchers didn't have the control or pitch variety to pull it off.
Back in the spring tournament, when Miyuki hit that three-run homer off Ichidaisan, their catcher had tried the same approach—but Miyuki saw right through it. Otherwise, he would've swung cleanly through.
"Psh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Wham!"
"Strike!"
Yuuki swung and missed at an outside forkball!
"Yes! He's got him cornered!"
"You've got his timing, Yuuki-san!"
"Nice pitch selection. With so many pitches in his arsenal, this pitcher's really hard to read," Miyuki said as he put on his helmet, looking toward Yokohama's pitcher–catcher battery with admiration.
"Against a pitcher like this, is Tetsu-san the type who guesses pitches?"
Sendo shot Miyuki a glance.
"Sure, he's got a lot of pitches and good control, but his velocity isn't at the level where you simply can't catch up once your timing's thrown off. So right now, I'd say it's still fifty–fifty."
"What's wrong?" Sendo asked, noticing Miyuki had gone quiet.
"Lend me some of that confidence, will you?" Miyuki grumbled.
"If it's just 'not too fast to catch up,' that really only applies to you and Tetsu-san."
"That's because you're usually too lazy—your batting's terrible because of it," Sendo replied flatly.
"You're not qualified to say that!" Miyuki shot back.
"If we're talking about slacking off, no one beats you, mister."
"But my batting isn't terrible," Sendo countered with a clean, lethal hit.
And he wasn't wrong.
At this stage, Miyuki's batting really was pretty bad.
In his previous life, when the new team formed in autumn, Miyuki had hit just over .200 in more than twenty plate appearances, wasting many crucial scoring chances.
At the time, Haruichi was batting .500, but the rest were one disappointment after another.
Powerhouse Seidou suddenly turned into a team that won games almost solely through pitching.
Miyuki's batting didn't truly awaken until he trained like crazy and gradually improved during the autumn tournament.
Even then, by his third-year summer camp, he still often whiffed on hittable pitches—yet somehow crushed finishing pitches.
Compared to Tetsu, who never missed a good pitch and stayed deadly consistent on put-away pitches, Miyuki was still clearly a step behind.
As a second-year, Miyuki relied almost entirely on extreme focus with runners in scoring position—guessing the pitch and swinging for it—to get results.
In truth, there were plenty of pitches that were hard to hit even if he guessed right.
Because his swing training wasn't enough, his bat speed lagged; many pitches he correctly anticipated still slipped past him.
That one home run off Manaka was nothing more than bullying an opponent who'd just come back from Koshien and wasn't in good form.
And pitch-guessing itself was never something Miyuki could guarantee.
In clutch moments, it always came down to Tetsu.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
Forced into a corner, Tetsu finally had to swing at a pitch that was difficult to judge.
Even elite batters don't fully trust umpires—or dare to.
To an umpire, it's a judgment call.
To a batter, a ball or strike can mean survival or elimination.
"This is getting troublesome… the pitcher's actually finding his rhythm now," Sendo muttered after seeing Tetsu foul off an inside fastball.
"Yeah," Miyuki replied instinctively, eyes fixed on the field.
"You can keep up. You can, Tetsu-san."
"Finish him, Ino! Shiraha!"
Both sides shouted encouragement, and the brass band's cheers rang out even louder.
This at-bat had become one of the true climaxes of the game.
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