In the bottom of the ninth inning, all Nanamori players took their defensive positions.
Iida, the substitute pitcher who had shown timidity earlier, now seemed transformed after his success in the previous inning.
He confidently strode onto the mound, actively directing his teammates.
"First base, back! Third base, forward…" he called out firmly.
As a pitching batter, strikeouts were unlikely.
They relied heavily on their defense.
They usually trained rigorously, and with such reliable support, Iida's pitching improved significantly.
Even facing the core batters of Seidō's second string, he displayed strong fighting spirit.
In Seidō's dugout, the players recalled the recent confrontation, their hearts pounding with anxiety.
This was their last chance.
With the score at 2–5, scoring one or two runs wouldn't make much difference.
Only by completely breaking down their opponents would they have a shot.
Now, the fourth batter, Kadota Masaaki, stepped up.
So far, he had been the most outstanding hitter.
Though he had a low profile in the first string, his strength was undeniable.
Seeing the natural aura Kadota Masaaki exuded in the batter's box.
Iida blinked in surprise.
"This guy is different!" he murmured in awe.
Though taken aback, he was already a changed man compared to when he first took the field.
He raised his arm, recalling his first confrontation with Takumi.
"Even that prodigy, I handled. You're no different," he declared with quiet confidence.
The stronger the batter, the more they valued each opportunity.
As long as the ball flew within their range, they would strike it in the most effortless, precise way.
His earlier success against Takumi had hinged on this very point—and he had managed to do it again.
In his mind, Kadota Masaaki was the same type of strong batter. They would never let any ball flying in front of them go by.
Swoosh!
And sure enough, Kadota Masaaki swung decisively as the ball approached.
Ping!
The ball soared exactly as Iida had predicted.
"Got it!" he exclaimed with a burst of excitement.
A wave of pleasant surprise washed over him.
Today's game had changed him—he felt as if he'd discovered his most natural pitching style and rhythm.
Before, compared to their Ace, he wasn't tens of thousands of miles behind, but at least two ranks below.
But now, he suddenly felt it:
He had a real chance to contend with their Ace.
Just as this thought flickered in his mind, he realized the ball hadn't been thrown back.
He spun around swiftly, eyes widening as he saw it land near his teammate and bounce away.
His teammate made a desperate dive but was still a step too late.
"How can it be this fast?" he gasped in shock.
He and Nanamori's third baseman exchanged stunned glances, disbelief etched on their faces.
In that helpless moment, they could only watch as the ball bounced away into the outfield.
Kadota Masaaki had hit a double once again.
No outs, runner on second base.
Next up, Miyuki Kazuya carefully gauged the ball's landing spot and sent it flying.
Snap!
The ball landed in the outfield, allowing him to reach second base safely.
Kadota Masaaki, originally on second, now sprinted toward home plate.
"Safe on base!"
"Score!"
The total now stood at 3–5, narrowing the gap to just two runs.
Miyuki Kazuya, who earned the RBI, advanced to second base.
Nanamori, who had just believed victory was within reach, now felt like they were caught in a relentless tide—rising and falling.
The situation shifted so rapidly they barely had time to react.
The score was tightening.
Seidō's remaining players were fired up; their offense showed no signs of stopping.
Especially the sixth batter, who boldly took a bunt stance.
Ping!
The batter was walked, and the runner advanced to third base.
One out, runner on third.
In Seidō's dugout, Takashima Rei was already rallying pinch hitters known for their powerful swings.
"If we score one more run, the opponent will surely lose their nerve," she mused confidently.
Nanamori's substitute pitcher was a whirlwind of emotions.
When the game favored him, he brimmed with smug arrogance.
But when under pressure, he quickly unraveled, becoming visibly flustered.
Though Seidō's offense was flowing smoothly now, as long as this pitcher held firm,
it would still be tough for them to seize the lead.
A two-run difference remained significant, especially with only the final inning left.
Seeing Takashima Rei's moves, Nanamori's coach decisively signaled.
Seidō's players realized that with pinch hitters coming in, the opponent would intentionally walk them.
After two pinch hitters entered, the situation on the field became one out with bases loaded.
Nanamori was pushed to the brink, fighting desperately to hold on.
"Do you have any more cards?" Nanamori's coach demanded, eyes narrowing in disbelief.
Could Seidō's second string truly have a third pinch hitter?
In truth, they did not.
Takashima Rei pursed her lips and reluctantly sent their team's ninth batter to the plate.
Ping!
The ball soared high before descending.
Nanamori's second baseman had anticipated its path early and steadily caught it in his glove.
Snap!
"Out!"
Seidō's players watched in horror, their hearts pounding.
Score: 3–5.
Two outs, bases loaded.
Nanamori's players were now fighting with their backs against the wall.
Even their emotional relief pitcher now seemed fierce and determined.
They wanted to win.
This game—facing a true powerhouse and finally defeating them—meant everything.
When they returned to West Tokyo and faced the prefecture's powerhouses again, they would have the confidence to beat them.
Seidō, meanwhile, hesitated.
Because stepping into the batter's box now was their first batter of the game, Takumi.
He had started strong; if he hadn't gotten that hit in the first inning,
Seidō might have been even more shaken early on.
But after that, he hadn't managed another hit. Especially last time, when he faced Iida, he was outsmarted.
Could they afford to keep him on the field?