The ninth inning began with a silence heavy enough to choke the air. Teito's lead still stood at one run, the scoreboard mocking Seidou with its bright red numbers. Every swing, every pitch, every ounce of energy left in the players would decide whether the game ended here or pushed onward.
And at the heart of it all stood Sendo Akira.
His cap shadowed his eyes as he gripped the ball, the seams cutting lightly into his fingertips. Sweat had begun to trace paths down his face, dampening the edge of his uniform, but his breathing stayed steady. His first time on the mound in an official game—and yet his presence was eerily calm, almost unnerving.
From the dugout, Sawamura could hardly sit still. His fists slammed against his knees as he leaned forward. "Arghhh! This guy…! How is he so calm!? If it were me, I'd be throwing fire right now!"
Kuramochi smirked, elbowing him. "That's the difference, dumbass. You bark loud enough for the whole stadium to hear. Sendo? He just does it."
Sawamura bristled, his cheeks burning, but he couldn't take his eyes off the mound.
Furuya, sitting just a few steps away, said nothing. His gaze was locked straight on Sendo, sharp and piercing, like a predator waiting for his chance.
On the field, Miyuki crouched, mask low, glove raised. His voice was steady but edged with amusement. "Alright, Sendo. Let's keep their bats quiet. We'll give the others a chance to turn this around."
Sendo gave a single nod. No words, no theatrics. Just focus.
The first batter stepped in, Teito's cleanup hitter. His stance was wide, bat loose but ready. The crowd buzzed with anticipation. This was the heart of Teito's order—the perfect chance to break the freshman's rhythm.
Sendo's windup was smooth, his body moving like water. The ball left his hand with a sharp snap—straight, heavy, and precise.
Pop!
Miyuki's glove echoed like a gunshot.
"Strike!"
The batter didn't flinch. He just narrowed his eyes, tightening his grip on the bat.
The second pitch came in faster, brushing the corner of the zone. This time, the bat whipped through the air—crack! The ball shot toward left field.
The crowd gasped. But Shirasu was already sprinting, glove outstretched. Snatch! The ball landed safely in his mitt.
"One out!"
Seidou's bench erupted. Players pounded the railing, shouting encouragement.
In the dugout, Sawamura clenched his fists. "Damn it… he's holding them down…"
Kuramochi chuckled. "What's wrong? Jealous?"
"I'm not jealous!" Sawamura shouted. Then he slumped, muttering, "...Maybe a little."
Furuya's voice cut through the noise, low and cold. "He won't last forever."
Back on the mound, Sendo's breathing grew heavier. The next batter stepped in, patient eyes reading him carefully. Miyuki gave the sign—low and away. Sendo delivered, but the batter didn't chase. Ball one.
The next pitch—strike. The third—foul. Pressure built.
On the fourth pitch, the batter connected, sending the ball bouncing toward short. Haruichi slid, glove scooping cleanly, and fired to first.
"Two outs!"
Sendo exhaled. His body screamed for rest, but he forced his focus to sharpen.
The third batter of the inning stepped in. The captain again. Calm, confident, unshaken. He had been the only Teito hitter to solve Sendo earlier.
Miyuki's eyes narrowed. This one won't be easy.
First pitch—ball. Just off the corner.Second pitch—strike. A sharp fastball inside.Third pitch—the captain swung hard, fouling it deep into right.
Two strikes. One ball.
The stadium leaned forward.
Sendo wound up. His arm whipped forward, releasing a fastball at the edge of his limit. The ball screamed toward the plate. The captain swung—
Crack!
The sound echoed, sharp and dangerous. The ball soared into the gap between center and right. For a moment, the stadium held its breath.
Then Ryousuke sprinted back, leaping as the ball dropped. His glove stretched—thwack!
Caught.
"Three outs!"
The Seidou bench roared like thunder, players rushing to greet Sendo as he jogged off the mound. Even the usually stoic seniors clapped him on the back.
But Sendo's expression didn't change. His steps were steady, his eyes calm. He wasn't celebrating. He was still locked in.
From the dugout, Sawamura's eyes widened. His chest felt tight. "He… he really is different…"
Furuya stood, grabbing his glove, expression unreadable. "Next time, it's my turn."
Coach Kataoka's arms were crossed, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his thoughts. "Not bad… Not bad at all."
As Seidou's batters prepared to take their swings, the weight of the game hung heavy in the air.
The ninth inning. Their last chance.
And at the heart of it all was the quiet freshman who had stood tall against Teito's strongest.
Sendo Akira.
The one who refused to flinch.The one who carried the weight of the mound like it belonged to him.
And for the first time, the entire team began to believe—
This first-year might just be the key to turning the tide.