Two outs. Runners on first and third.
The batter was Narumiya Mei.
After quickly assessing the situation, Miyuki immediately gave the signal.
Kanzaki Ryou bent slightly at the waist, slowing his breathing as his fingers rolled the baseball. His gaze lingered on Narumiya Mei for a brief moment before he straightened. His left leg lifted smoothly—and in the blink of an eye, the white ball was released.
Whoosh!
The pitch screamed in. Narumiya Mei's swing was just as decisive. The instant Kanzaki's arm came forward, Mei identified the pitch he wanted, stepped in, and brought the bat down hard.
Bang!
A sharp crack echoed through the field.
"Foul ball!"
"Hmph."
Narumiya Mei pulled the bat back with a snort, irritation flickering across his face. That ball should have been hit cleanly.
Seeing the reaction, Kanzaki Ryou smiled faintly. That swing had been dangerous. If Mei had been even a fraction slower, the result would have been very different.
Second pitch.
Because Narumiya Mei was a left-handed batter, Miyuki called for an outside cutter-slider.
The pitch started well off the plate. At first glance, it looked like a deliberate waste pitch. Narumiya Mei almost relaxed—until the ball suddenly slid inward, biting sharply into the strike zone and catching the low outside corner.
…Damn it!
Narumiya Mei's pupils shrank as he glared toward home plate.
Miyuki calmly returned the ball, completely ignoring him.
Two strikes.
One more pitch would end everything.
Come on—Changeup.
Miyuki squatted and flashed the sign.
Whoosh!
Kanzaki Ryou didn't hesitate. The ball left his hand cleanly, floating in with deceptive speed. Narumiya Mei took the bait and swung.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
The baseball snapped into the mitt, and the umpire's call rang out across the field. Inashiro Industrial's hard-earned scoring chance vanished just like that.
Narumiya Mei clenched his fists.
So close—just one hit away.
"It's fine. The game isn't over yet."
In the dugout, Masatoshi Harada spoke calmly as he patted Mei's shoulder. Failing to score wasn't Mei's fault. The real issue was the lineup itself—stringing hits together had always been Inashiro's weakness.
Seido was no different. Scoring off Narumiya Mei required relentless pressure and near-perfect execution.
Bottom of the eighth inning.
Seido's offense.
Kominato Ryosuke stepped into the batter's box, bat in hand.
Before he went up, Coach Kataoka had given a clear instruction:
Bunt.
Get on base by any means necessary. It was already the eighth inning. If they failed to create chances now, scoring later would only become harder. And if the game dragged into extra innings, that would favor Inashiro—not Seido.
Facing Narumiya Mei on the mound, Kominato held the bat forward in a clear bunting stance.
The moment the ball was released, he pulled the bat back and swung hard, targeting a forkball.
Bang!
"Foul ball!"
The ball sailed out of play. Kominato let out a quiet breath of relief. A foul was fine. The first pitch bunt had never been real—its purpose was to disrupt the catcher's rhythm.
Second pitch.
Once again, Kominato swung toward the lower half of the zone.
Masatoshi Harada frowned.
A forkball again?
Or is he setting something up?
After a brief pause, Harada signaled for a changeup.
On the mound, Narumiya Mei nodded seriously. The more critical the moment, the less room there was for mistakes. One run here could decide the game.
Even if he couldn't read Kominato's plan, one thing was certain—
He would not let him reach base easily.
The changeup came in.
Kominato Ryosuke's eyes narrowed.
This is it.
He angled the bat out, cushioning the pitch perfectly.
Bang—!
The ball popped up weakly toward third base. Kominato dropped the bat and sprinted.
"Yoshizawa!!"
Harada barked the order. Yoshizawa Hideaki charged forward, fielded the ball cleanly, and fired to first using its momentum.
"Safe!!"
Kominato's foot hit the base just before the ball slapped into Carlos's glove.
"What a waste!"
"Just barely missed him!"
"That guy's fast!"
"Do short guys all run that quick?"
…
Inashiro's supporters groaned in unison.
Standing on first, Kominato smiled faintly and nodded toward the on-deck circle.
Isashiki Jun stepped up.
Bat in hand, he stormed into the box as usual, shouting toward Narumiya Mei. He swung hard at the first pitch—nothing but air.
The second pitch came. Another full-force swing. Another miss.
Yet his momentum never wavered.
Then—
Bang!
A loud crack exploded across the field.
Isashiki had connected with one of Mei's sliders. The ball shot cleanly through the gap between first and second, rolling into the outfield.
Isashiki tore toward first.
The outfielders moved quickly, relaying the ball back in. Isashiki was tagged out just a step short of the base—but Kominato seized the chance, advancing safely to second.
One out. Runner on second.
Once again, Inashiro stood on the brink.
Seido's cleanup hitter, Yuki Tetsuya walked calmly to the plate.
"Captain!!"
"Hit it out!"
"Bring him home!"
"Home run!!"
The stands erupted.
At this decisive moment, every Seido supporter believed the same thing:
Yuki will deliver.
Coach Kataoka stood with his arms crossed. Among Seido's lineup, no one was more reliable in clutch situations than Yuki Tetsuya. With a run within reach, Kataoka trusted him completely.
On the mound, Narumiya Mei scowled at Yuki's calm, serious expression.
Trying to intimidate me?
Fine. I'll take you down first—then deal with that annoying chestnut-haired monster.
None of you are scoring off me.
Narumiya Mei steadied himself. After confirming Harada's sign, he fired the pitch.
A fastball—cutting diagonally into Yuki Tetsuya's chest.
Whoosh!
The ball rushed in, filling Yuki's vision.
His bat moved almost on instinct.
Bang!
He hit it.
It wasn't the sweet spot—but Yuki used his entire body, driving through the swing and forcing every ounce of power into the hit against that brutally heavy fastball.