Seeing Narumiya Mei shake his head, Masatoshi Harada frowned.
Is it really time to use that pitch?
Isn't it too early?
Harada had his own calculations. The game had only just begun. Revealing their trump card to Seido now would inevitably make the later stages far more difficult.
But one look at Narumiya Mei told him everything.
Right now, Mei was unstoppable.
With a quiet sigh, Harada finally gave the signal.
If you're going to do it… then strike him out cleanly.
Mei.
The moment Narumiya Mei saw the gesture, his eyes flickered sharply.
This is it.
Whoosh!
His lips parted slightly as his entire body relaxed.
This was a pitch he had planned to unveil in summer.
Its completion wasn't perfect yet. According to Coach Kunimoto's instructions, it wasn't supposed to be exposed in the Spring Metropolitan Tournament—or even the upcoming Kanto Tournament.
But—
That can wait.
If he showed weakness now, he would never be able to forgive himself.
Whoosh!
The baseball slipped from Narumiya Mei's fingertips.
Kanzaki Ryou locked onto the pitch and swung decisively.
But—
The ball seemed to slow in midair.
His bat cut through empty space, missing it by a wide margin.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
A Changeup!
Kanzaki Ryou's pupils shrank.
Narumiya Mei… had already mastered the Changeup at this stage?!
Meeting Mei's faintly arrogant expression, Kanzaki Ryou smiled instead.
Unexpected? Yes.
Surprising? Not really.
After all, Narumiya Mei was a genius.
Straightening up, Kanzaki stepped out of the batter's box and, to everyone's surprise, raised his thumb toward the mound.
A clear, unreserved acknowledgment.
In the Seido dugout, the atmosphere immediately grew heavy.
Narumiya Mei was already difficult enough to deal with—his fastball hovered around 148 km/h, his control was precise, and he had multiple breaking balls.
Now he had a Changeup.
This was a nightmare scenario for any batting lineup.
Even Kanzaki Ryou, without deliberately throwing at full power, usually maintained speeds around 150 km/h. From that perspective alone, the gap between the two Aces was already incredibly small.
When Kanzaki Ryou was struck out, Inajitsu's cheering section exploded.
Their Ace's counterattack filled them with exhilaration.
Miyuki Kazuya stepped into the batter's box next.
His face was calm, but inwardly, he could only shake his head with a bitter smile.
Sixth batter. No runners on base.
And Mei had just revealed a new pitch.
This just keeps getting worse.
Narumiya Mei's feelings toward Miyuki were far more complicated than toward Kanzaki.
Back then, he had invited Miyuki to join Inajitsu with absolute confidence.
And yet—
Time and again, they had lost to Seido.
It was nothing short of a slap in the face.
Kazuya…
I'll defeat you. I'll defeat all of you.
Three pitches.
Three swings.
Three misses.
Miyuki was struck out.
Only two innings into the game, the tension between Inajitsu and Seido had already enveloped the entire field. The audience had the strange illusion that this wasn't the Spring Metropolitan Tournament at all—
—but the final match of summer, the game that decided the ticket to Koshien.
At the end of the second inning, Narumiya Mei returned to the Inajitsu dugout.
The faint smile on his lips froze instantly when he met Coach Kunimoto's gaze.
I'm done for.
Cold sweat trickled down his back.
Only then did he realize how reckless he'd been.
But—
To his surprise, Coach Kunimoto didn't scold him.
Instead, he asked quietly, "The rest of the game… can you handle it?"
Narumiya Mei froze.
No reprimand?
Not even a harsh word?
Staring at his coach in disbelief, Mei almost wondered if something was wrong.
"What?" Kunimoto said coldly. "Can't you do it?"
"Yes! I can!" Mei shouted without hesitation.
Kunimoto nodded.
Though he wasn't entirely pleased with Mei's decision to expose the Changeup early, he didn't intend to criticize him.
As an experienced coach, Kunimoto knew one thing very well—
Narumiya Mei was a once-in-a-generation talent.
As long as nothing unexpected happened, his future would be brilliant.
And yet, for so long, he had been suppressed by those two from Seido.
The current Narumiya Mei was no longer the arrogant freshman who believed himself second only to heaven. A year of hardship and defeat had tempered him. He now understood responsibility, restraint—and resolve.
Since he chose to throw that Changeup, then it must have been necessary.
This was not indulgence.
It was trust.
And respect—for his Ace.
Watching Mei laugh and joke with his teammates now, Coach Kunimoto felt a subtle warmth in his chest.
Narumiya Mei hadn't been crushed by repeated losses to Seido.
Instead, those defeats had sharpened both his pitching and his mindset.
He was already a true Ace.
People often say failure is the mother of success.
Kunimoto disagreed.
Failure was just failure.
What mattered was this—
They learned from it.
They refused to accept it.
They wanted to win.
Narumiya Mei wanted to win.
Inajitsu wanted to win.
The game moved into the third inning.
Back and forth it went.
Inajitsu couldn't break through Kanzaki Ryou's pitching.
Seido couldn't find an opening against Narumiya Mei.
The stalemate continued—
Third inning.
Fourth.
Fifth.
Sixth.
Still, 0–0.
Both teams had exhausted their offensive options. Kanzaki Ryou even produced a long hit, but the lineup couldn't connect. The run never came.
Neither Coach Kunimoto nor Coach Kataoka showed any intention of changing pitchers.
At this stage, even the smallest adjustment could shatter the balance of the game.
Once that happened—
No one could predict the outcome.
At this critical moment, both coaches made the same choice.
They trusted their Ace.
"Kanzaki, you tired?" Kuramochi Yoichi asked, sitting beside him.
"Not really," Kanzaki replied with a relaxed smile. "The tempo's fast, and I haven't thrown many pitches."
After a year of intense training, his stamina was no longer what it once was.
The game had only reached the sixth inning.
His pitch count had just crossed sixty.
He was far from exhausted.
Besides—
It was still spring.
The weather was cool.
His body felt light.