Bottom of the ninth inning, the score stood at 3–5.
Two outs, bases loaded.
At this crucial moment of the showdown, Nanamori had clearly staked everything on the line.
They wanted to win.
By now, their players had long forgotten their earlier frustrations.
Their sole focus was winning today's game.
In contrast, Seidō faced uncertainty.
Though Takumi had performed well at the plate earlier, he had failed against Iida.
Should he continue to bat in this critical moment?
Everyone hesitated.
In any previous inning, the players wouldn't have questioned this.
After all, he was a pitcher and deserved credit for keeping them in the game this far.
If he were replaced, how would they proceed?
But this was the bottom of the ninth—once this at-bat ended, the game would be over.
They no longer needed to consider pitching strategy; their only concern was how to score.
The players hesitated, their faces clouded with uncertainty.
They neither insisted he bat nor pressed for a replacement.
Ultimately, the weight of the decision rested on their assistant coach, Takashima Rei.
She adjusted her glasses with a deliberate finger, her expression thoughtful and resolute.
"Substitution!" she declared firmly.
Before the players could even respond, Nanamori's coach in the opposing dugout curled his lips into a knowing smirk.
"Still too young," he muttered under his breath.
He glanced at her as if already picturing the woman's impending embarrassment.
Besides Takumi, was there any other reliable power hitter in Seidō's dugout?
If there had been, they wouldn't have let the ninth batter take the plate.
Making a substitution at this point meant they were already in disarray.
Just when Nanamori thought victory was within their grasp.
"Pinch runner, Kuramochi Yoichi!" came the sharp command.
Seidō's substitution was finalized.
Takumi, who was about to bat, remained in the lineup.
Instead, Kuramochi Yoichi, who hadn't seen any play until now, was sent in to run first base.
"Hee-haw!" he exclaimed, eyes gleaming with eagerness.
Nanamori's coach's smile faltered, freezing in place.
He had thought the opponent was young and already shaken.
Unexpectedly, not only did they keep the batter, but they also brought in a speedy runner.
It was as if they were certain Takumi would make contact.
This was a direct challenge to Nanamori.
Takumi gripped the bat and stepped up to the plate.
He could hear his own heavy breathing and feel the fatigue weighing on his body.
But considering this was the last chance, none of that mattered anymore.
What mattered most was whether he could hit the ball.
To be honest, he felt uncertain.
The last time he faced this pitcher, Iida, he had been defeated.
He had hit the ball exactly where he wanted.
But that well-placed hit was promptly caught by the opponent and quickly thrown to first base.
How was he supposed to succeed after that?
He didn't even understand why his hit had failed.
He only knew one thing: he was out.
Now, standing at the plate again, he faced his opponent with renewed determination.
Iida seemed to have fully regained his confidence.
Facing Takumi, with bases loaded and the game on the line,
he remained unfazed, gripping the ball tightly and throwing it with full force.
Whoosh!
Sharingan, activate!
Takumi activated his Sharingan, watching the ball's speed slow as if in slow motion. He could clearly see the patterns on the ball and its exact landing spot.
As long as he swung, he was certain he could make contact.
He tightened his grip on the bat, ready to strike—but suddenly, a sharp sense of alarm surged through him.
He forced himself to hold back, watching the ball fall cleanly into the catcher's mitt.
Thwack!
"Strike!!"
Nanamori's players exploded with renewed energy, their voices ringing out.
"The opponent's completely rattled!" one exclaimed excitedly.
"Even a top national powerhouse, and we can still win!" another declared confidently.
They had once dismissed Seidō's second string with disdain.
But now, with victory within reach, their spirits soared triumphantly.
In a way, Seidō's second string had already proven their strength and earned their opponent's respect.
But with the game hanging in the balance, who wouldn't want to win?
Still, the tension was palpable, and the players hesitated to add pressure on Iida.
They said nothing—simply rose, gathered at the front of the dugout, and fixed their gaze on him.
Iida, having secured a strike, stood like a great general on the field.
After receiving the ball back, he first directed his teammates to their positions, then launched his confident second pitch.
Whoosh!
The pitch sped forward, surprisingly ordinary, the ball barely shifting.
Through the sharp lens of the Sharingan, it was a completely unremarkable throw.
Yet, with such a pitch, if Takumi swung, he estimated over a 30% chance of being caught out.
Even if he made contact, his odds of reaching first base were slim.
'If I hit the ball to that spot…' he pondered silently.
Though already down one strike, his attention wasn't on the pitch itself.
Instead, his eyes locked onto the field ahead.
Thanks to the Sharingan, he possessed not only super dynamic vision but also an exceptionally wide field of view.
He hadn't noticed this before because he hadn't been paying close attention.
Now, concentrating intently, he immediately spotted something unusual.
Nanamori's fielders were positioned intriguingly.
The open space before him was actually a carefully crafted pocket.
He hadn't realized it before stepping up to bat.
It was only when Iida pitched did Nanamori's players tightened that pocket.
This meant that if he hit the ball there, he'd be stepping right into a trap.
Iida's pitch placement was calculated and precise.
It seemed the batter could only target those openings to make solid contact.
'So that's the plan!' he realized with a sharp pang of understanding.
…
Thwack!
"Strike!!"
Now down to two strikes,
Nanamori was just one strike away from victory.
The players in Nanamori's dugout were already on their feet, ready to cheer.
Iida, standing tall on the pitcher's mound, radiated unwavering confidence, certain he would strike out Takumi.
"This is the last pitch!" he declared with conviction.
He lifted his leg, swung his arm, and unleashed his most powerful throw.
After today's game, who could possibly doubt Iida's worthiness as an Ace?
'I've got this!' he assured himself.
Watching the ball speed toward him, Takumi planted his feet firmly at the plate, then suddenly lunged forward.
As he stepped, the bat in his hand swung out with force.