Yuki Tetsuya's obsession with shogi was something Kanzaki Ryou felt might even surpass the love for baseball. He truly lived for it.
Kanzaki sighed helplessly.
"You play shogi?" Yuki asked, eyes sharp with interest.
"I don't," Kanzaki answered honestly.
"Want to learn? I can teach you!"
Yuki leaned forward like a kid inviting a friend to play.
Kanzaki couldn't bring himself to reject Yuki's sincere enthusiasm and nodded.
As the two chatted, the A Field suddenly shifted atmosphere—
Coach Kataoka and the coaching staff had arrived.
"Gather!"
Both the first-year newcomers and the second-string seniors immediately stopped what they were doing and assembled in formation.
"Since entering Seidou, you've gone through two months of high school baseball training."
Coach Kataoka's voice boomed, sunglasses reflecting the morning sun.
"Today is the day to show your results. Opportunities aren't given—they're taken. Do your best and prove yourselves!"
"Yes!!" the first-years shouted.
But the moment their voices echoed across the field…
cold, sharp glares stabbed into their backs.
The second-string seniors were staring them down—faces stern, aura oppressive.
Only now did the new players understand:
This wasn't just a test for their future…
It was a battle tied to the seniors' past.
These upperclassmen weren't simply defending their positions—they were fighting to protect the years of sweat and failure that brought them here.
Some timid newcomers flinched under the pressure before the game even started.
Lineups were posted.
"Bow!"
"Please take care of us!"
The Freshman vs. Senior Red–White Game officially began.
Top of the 1st — Seniors' Offense
Kanzaki sat with Yuki, observing.
The first-year pitcher stepping onto the mound was not Kawakami—it was Kawashima.
As expected, Coach Kataoka planned to send in Kawakami Norifumi later.
Among the first-year pitchers—excluding the outlier Kanzaki—
only Kawakami had truly caught Kataoka's eye.
Talented pitchers from junior high often struggled after arriving at Seidou.
Here, the competition was suffocating.
Many who were former aces eventually gave up the mound entirely.
Kanzaki glanced toward the first-year bench.
Kuramochi Yoichi was fired up, talking a mile a minute to Aso, Shirazu, and the others.
"Do your best," Kanzaki whispered. "Get promoted and join the second-string soon."
But the first-years were about to experience hell.
First pitch.
Crack!!
The ball exploded off the senior batter's bat, flying deep into the outfield corner.
The runner sprinted into scoring position—
and the first-years stood frozen.
"How!? They're that strong!?"
"No way…"
"The gap is insane!"
One swing and morale had collapsed.
Kawashima's face drained of all color. But there was no time to dwell—he had to keep pitching.
By the time he finally got the third out and escaped the inning…
He looked at the scoreboard.
8 runs.
He had surrendered 8 runs in half an inning.
"That's brutal," Kanzaki muttered.
A gruff voice responded behind him.
"Heh. This is just the beginning."
Kanzaki looked back.
"Jun-san."
Isashiki Jun sat down, arms crossed.
"These kids are going to crumble if they don't adjust fast," he said, tone pessimistic.
Kanzaki smiled slightly.
"Isn't it normal? They were all prodigies in junior high. Many came in thinking they were hot stuff. But after just one inning, they've been crushed by reality. Confusion and panic are natural reactions."
Isashiki stared at him.
"Oi, kid… you remember you're a first-year too, right?"
"I know. I want to play too, but Coach won't let me."
"Hmph. Even if you were out there, the situation wouldn't change much."
While they talked, the bottom of the 1st wrapped up—
the seniors struck out all three first-year batters effortlessly.
Several Innings Later
The seniors were calm and clinical.
The freshmen were falling apart.
Defensive errors, wild throws, dropped balls—
the game was painful to watch.
Spectators lost interest—
until someone shouted:
"Whoa!! So fast!"
Kuramochi Yoichi stepped up to the batter's box.
He attempted a bunt toward third base—
"YAH-HAAA!!"
With a sharp cry, he burst forward.
A flash of green hair—the ball chased, but Kuramochi outran it.
Dive!
He slammed his hands onto the base bag.
Thwack.
Ball entered the glove a split second too late.
"Safe!!"
"YAHHHHOOO!!"
Kuramochi yelled like a feral animal, pumping his fists.
Spectators erupted.
"Who is that kid!?"
"That speed is insane!"
"He bunts in this situation!? What guts!"
"There are some promising newcomers!"
Around Kanzaki, first-string regulars had gathered to watch.
Tanba spoke first.
"Doesn't matter. It's useless."
"You can't say useless," another senior said. "At least he showed something."
"Shida, he might be faster than you," someone teased.
Shida Shota scoffed.
"He's still far behind."
Kominato Ryosuke asked softly,
"You think the first-years can score?"
The seniors responded instantly:
"Impossible."
"Keep dreaming."
"Wishful thinking."
The verdict was unanimous.
Their batting lacked power, discipline, coordination.
Even getting on base was meaningless if the lineup couldn't connect.
"Then what's the final score?" Kominato asked.
Immediately, Azuma Kiyokuni sneered.
"Fifty runs."
"Oi oi, Senior Azuma, that's overkill!"
"That's too much!"
"If they really score 50, I'll wash my hair standing on my head!"
"…Who said that!? Write it down!!"
The seniors bantered loudly, but Kanzaki wasn't smiling.
Several innings in, the first-years weren't settling down—
they were collapsing further.
Errors were getting worse.
Their eyes were losing focus.
The pressure was crushing them.
Kanzaki frowned deeply.
With this kind of performance…
Coach Kataoka definitely would not accept it.
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