[Do you want to open the Novice Gift Pack?]
About to step onto the field, he realized he didn't have a choice.
"Open!"
No matter what skill the system gave him, he felt it would be enough to change everything. This was a leap across worlds.
[Novice Gift Pack opened. Congratulations, Host, on acquiring the S-rank skill: Sharingan!]
Sharingan?
His heart skipped a beat. Could his eyes really turn into spinning pinwheels?
With cameras everywhere, if anyone saw this, would he end up locked away and dissected?
Feeling uneasy, he quickly activated his Sharingan.
[Sharingan activated. The host has no chakra and can only rely on will and physical strength to sustain its use. Based on the host's will and strength, the Sharingan can be used for sixty seconds. Countdown begins: 60! 59…]
As the Sharingan flickered on, the world around him warped strangely.
But there was no time to get distracted.
Knowing he had only sixty seconds, he grabbed Yōichi urgently and demanded, "Look at my eyes—have they changed?
Even the basic forms—one tomoe, two tomoe, three tomoe—were enough to make him look odd.
Yōichi studied him closely.
Then his pupils suddenly widened in shock.
It was over.
His heart sank.
Had his eyes really changed into something bizarre?
"Didn't you sleep well last night? You've got a huge eye booger!" Yōichi joked, breaking the tension.
He shot a fierce glare at his friend, then let out a relieved sigh, glad his fears were unfounded.
Without chakra, he could only keep the Sharingan active through willpower and physical effort—so his eyes wouldn't morph into anything strange.
"Deactivate!"
He had only sixty seconds total—and five had already passed.
Although the energy drain wasn't overwhelming, he still felt a slight fatigue creeping in.
Was the power from Naruto: Shippuden really as strong as he'd imagined?
He wasn't sure.
But it definitely took more out of him than he expected.
The game was still underway. The batter who'd just been taken out sat dejectedly on the bench.
Being replaced at such a critical moment made it clear he probably wouldn't get many more chances.
Seidō, a nationally known powerhouse, had nearly a hundred players.
Each got only a few chances at best. Miss one, and sometimes there wasn't a second.
This wasn't just true for that guy—it was true for him, too.
Takashima Rei had seriously asked him to step up at this moment.
If he messed up, he'd likely be sidelined—maybe not playing again until autumn.
He took a deep breath, gripped his bat, and stepped into the batter's box.
One out, runner on second.
He didn't know the runner.
Not a freshman from their year—must be an upperclassman, either second or third year.
This unknown upperclassman had earlier hit a clean double off Kawakami.
Still, that upperclassman wasn't even on the Second String.
This was Seidō!
"Yamamoto Takumi is up!" the announcer called.
"Who's Yamamoto Takumi?"
"He's that good-looking exchange student who can't play."
"Baseball's about results, not looks."
"What a waste—fighting so hard, hoping to tie or take the lead, and now there's no chance."
"Nonsense! The score isn't the point. What matters is how each player performs."
"No matter what, the winning side always gets favored, right?"
The players chatted animatedly, especially those on his team.
They were down by one run, and with him coming up to bat, it felt like all hope was slipping away.
Inevitably, complaints echoed from the dugout.
But honestly, his batting wasn't the real issue now.
The only person it really concerned was the upperclassman on second base. If he hit well, he could seize the moment.
Unlike the others grumbling, this unknown upperclassman stayed positive.
"Go for it!" he encouraged with a smile, cheering him on while also putting pressure on Kawakami from the base.
He burst off second base, feinting a steal toward third.
This forced Kawakami, standing on the mound, to split his focus.
"As expected of an upperclassman—what a headache," Kawakami muttered, frustrated.
He'd already given up three hits in today's game.
The pressure weighed heavily on him.
Thankfully, Kawakami was pitching now—not Maezono, Kuramochi, or Shirasu from their year.
Otherwise, Kawakami's burden would be even greater.
"Sorry, Yamamoto-san, but I have to make it into the Second String no matter what!" He declared, determination burning in his eyes.
Pitcher promotions were entirely different from other positions.
All pitchers trained in the bullpen, so their rankings were crystal clear.
Norifumi felt he was close to securing a spot as a Second String pitcher.
Some rookies from their year had already been promoted to the First String, and he refused to fall behind.
Having left his hometown at a young age to pursue baseball at Seidō, he was determined.
He raised his leg high, completely ignoring the runner on base.
His pitching was confident and precise.
This was a far cry from Takumi's first impression of him.
Of course, that impression came from watching Kawakami face second- and third-year upperclassmen.
As a practice pitcher, he always seemed timid and unsure when pitching to the older players.
Now, facing rookies his own age, he had the aura of an Ace from his middle school days.
Whoosh!
As a sidearm pitcher, he threw from the side, sending the ball on a path unlike any other pitcher's.
Watching it, Takumi felt a shiver run down his spine.
'Is it going to hit me?' he wondered anxiously.
The ball seemed to be heading straight for his head.
But just before it reached him, it curved sharply, narrowly missing him and sliding perfectly into the strike zone.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
One strike, zero balls.
The rookies who had been grumbling moments ago grew even more dismissive.
"No reaction at all—is he scared?" one sneered.
"You're one to talk; you weren't much better up there," another shot back.
"Who said that? At least I made contact with the ball," a third retorted.
Ōta Kazuyoshi, the club president, nodded with satisfaction, his belly jutting out proudly.
Even Takashima Rei from the opposing side smiled knowingly.
"Kawakami-san is in excellent form. Facing players his own age probably eases his pressure, letting him show his true strength. In this relaxed state, he can definitely compete for a key role in Second String. Once the third-year players graduate, he might even become a relief pitcher for the team," she remarked thoughtfully.
"Yamamoto-san is pretty unlucky. This level of pitching is a bit too advanced for him right now," she added, with a hint of sympathy.