Chapter 246: Shock! Seidou's First-Year Monsters
"It—it went through!!"
Even the announcer's voice was filled with disbelief.
Not to mention the fans in the stands—especially Seidou High's hardcore supporters.
They felt like fish trapped in the Titanic's tank: just when doom seemed certain, they suddenly witnessed a miraculous twist of fate!
"Oh my God!!"
"That kid actually managed to hit the ball?!"
"Who's that first-year kid? I've decided—I'm officially his fan from today onward!"
"First we had the monster Furuya, then Sawamura Eijun, and now there's Kominato Haruichi as well?"
"What a jackpot! Three first-years already capable of playing in official matches—and one of them is even our ace!"
In this moment, Seidou High's passionate fans were completely overwhelmed by a sense of happiness.
They struggled to find the right words to express their excitement, but one thing they were absolutely sure of—
They were beyond thrilled!
It felt like every single cell in their bodies was about to explode in celebration.
Meanwhile, in the Seidou dugout, Kominato Ryousuke, who always wore a calm smile, now grinned even more brightly.
"Well, senpai, now you can relax. Looks like your little brother isn't inferior to you after all," Kuramochi teased, finally seizing his chance for payback after Ryousuke's earlier jabs.
"He's still got a long way to go," Ryousuke replied nonchalantly.
Of course, it would've been far more convincing if he'd managed to hide the tiny, involuntary movement of his excited toes.
As Ryousuke's closest partner in the middle infield, Kuramochi naturally noticed it.
Kuramochi smiled quietly, saying nothing further.
For him, just seeing his senior finally ease his worries was more than enough.
Afterward, Kuramochi turned his attention back to the field, where the younger Kominato stood on first base, clearly trembling with nerves.
Despite being biological brothers, their personalities couldn't have been more different. Although their appearances were similar enough, most people wouldn't guess they were siblings just by looking at them.
But of course, they weren't completely different either.
At least in terms of baseball talent, both brothers possessed monstrous potential.
Right now, Seidou's players and supporters were ecstatic beyond words.
In stark contrast, their opponents' faces had turned incredibly grim.
"How could that pitch possibly get hit?"
That pitch had clearly been one they had absolute confidence in. Every Inashiro player believed wholeheartedly it would put away the batter.
That first-year substitute from Seidou High appeared small, thin, and fragile. He looked like he'd break under any serious pressure.
Yet somehow, he had managed to successfully hit the pitch from Inashiro's ace?
Neither the players nor the supporters from Inashiro Industrial High School could make sense of what they'd just witnessed.
Even Narumiya Mei, standing on the mound, stared down at his fingers in disbelief.
He'd clearly been pitching his best up until now—so how could this have happened?
As Narumiya stood there looking dazedly at his hand, the home plate umpire was just about to open his mouth to issue a warning.
Pitching, after all, had a time limit. The ace pitcher from Inashiro remaining frozen like that clearly went against regulations.
But before the umpire could say anything, there was sudden activity from the Inashiro dugout.
Fans who saw this immediately gaped in surprise.
Could it be?
Was the Inashiro coach really going to pull their ace off the mound just because of this minor setback?
Of course, Inashiro had another pitcher who was quite capable. His performances in previous matches had been excellent, and by all measures, he was indeed a talented player.
But talent was always relative. If you compared him directly to Inashiro's true ace, Narumiya Mei, the gap between them was immediately clear.
Considering how tense the game situation had become, sending in a substitute now clearly wasn't the wisest move.
But just as the crowd started worrying, Inashiro didn't actually make a pitching substitution.
Instead, they merely sent a player onto the field to deliver a message.
The messenger was a polite-looking boy—a first-year player as well.
"A message runner?"
With two outs and a runner on first, Inashiro still held a considerable advantage despite giving up the recent hit.
"What exactly are they planning by sending a messenger at a time like this?"
Whether it was the spectators in the stands or the players in Seidou's dugout, everyone wore confused expressions.
Sawamura, who had previously seemed dejected, had somehow fully bounced back to his usual energized self. He'd now made his way to the front of the dugout, also staring at their opponents in confusion.
"What could they possibly be up to?"
Just as Sawamura stood there confused, someone beside him gave a cold chuckle.
"As expected of Coach Kunitomo—ruthless and cunning as always."
Hearing that, Sawamura immediately turned his head toward Miyuki.
"Don't stop halfway! What do you mean exactly?"
Sawamura's eyes shone with clear, honest confusion. As a pure first-year rookie, it was indeed difficult for him to grasp Inashiro's tactics at a time like this.
Chris, who'd begun preparing to patiently explain the situation to his student, suddenly heard a calm, cool voice interrupting clearly.
"They're stalling for time, allowing Narumiya Mei to recover his stamina."
"Huh?"
Sawamura turned his head, staring at Furuya in disbelief.
At this late stage of the game, wasn't it already too late to think about stamina recovery?
"Their goal isn't to give Narumiya-senpai an extended rest," Furuya continued quietly. "They only need ten or twenty seconds—just enough time for him to catch his breath and reset his rhythm. They've already gotten two outs. As soon as they get one more, he'll be able to return to the dugout and fully recover."
Furuya's gaze was icy.
Ever since entering high school baseball, he had clearly recognized one thing: whether it was their own Coach Kataoka or their opponents' coaches, every one of them was incredibly skilled at managing and controlling every detail of the game.
Compared to the coach he'd had back in Hokkaido, who was essentially just a figurehead, the difference was like night and day.
The gap in coaching ability was enormous!
And to think, coaches at this level were merely high school coaches…
Furuya found it hard to even imagine just how terrifyingly skilled professional coaches must be. What level of tactics would he encounter once he stepped onto a professional stage?
As he felt this intense shock, Furuya suddenly felt a growing excitement for bigger stages—
The pros! The major leagues!
Initially, Furuya hadn't particularly dreamed of playing professionally. It was simply logical: he had exceptional baseball talent, and choosing that path would clearly make his life easier. In short, baseball had just seemed like a rational choice for his future.
After hearing Furuya's explanation, Sawamura felt it was logical enough, but he clearly lacked trust in his teammate. Naturally, Sawamura turned immediately toward his mentor.
"Is that really true, Chris-senpai?"
Hearing Sawamura's innocent question, seeing the clear stupidity in his eyes, and recalling what Furuya had just calmly explained, Chris was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to travel back in time.
If heaven would grant him another chance—say, two months ago—he'd genuinely consider choosing a different student.
After all, Furuya had also come from a weak baseball background, yet he'd quickly developed a clear, rational way of thinking. Meanwhile, his own dense student remained skeptical even after hearing such a logical explanation.
The intellectual gap between the two freshmen gave Chris an immense headache.
"Yes, it's true," Chris finally replied.
Hearing his mentor's confirmation, Sawamura instantly shifted his expression.
"Wow, you're pretty sharp after all, seeing through their strategy like that! Here I was, thinking you'd just reached your physical limit."
Even though Sawamura intended to compliment him, every word felt irritating to Furuya's ears.
He glared fiercely back at Sawamura in response.
"If you don't know how to talk properly, keep your mouth shut."
It had to be said that while Sawamura Eijun might not fully understand their opponents, he understood Furuya very well.
At this point in the game, Furuya really was nearing his breaking point. Even he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pitching.
So far, he'd maintained control of the pitching situation, hardly giving Inashiro Industrial High a single chance after the game's opening innings. Yet, despite this dominance, Furuya had to admit that Inashiro's batters were indeed exceptional opponents.
Though he'd suppressed them the entire game, they'd still created considerable pressure and difficulty for him. His stamina had depleted far faster than in any previous game.
Even though he'd only pitched six or seven innings, Furuya could feel that his energy had been squeezed dry.
"I've been trying to manage my stamina better, but I still get too worked up when I pitch!"
Furuya was aware of his immaturity, but some things just weren't easily controlled by willpower alone.
Of course, he could've relied more on breaking balls. However, his breaking pitches weren't nearly as sharp or accurate as Narumiya's. Once Inashiro's players adapted and began specifically targeting those pitches, he wasn't confident he could stop them.
Even knowing the risks of consistently throwing overpowering fastballs, Furuya still had no other choice but to keep doing it.
Meanwhile, on the pitcher's mound, Narumiya Mei was breathing heavily.
"Coach said you've already done exceptionally well in this match. No matter what the final result is, he'll be proud of you. Right now, forget everything else—just focus on regaining some stamina and securing this final out!"
The first-year messenger from Inashiro Industrial High had a pleasant name: Tadano Itsuki.
His teammates affectionately called him "Itsuki," partly out of closeness and partly as a sign of respect toward their promising junior.
They knew clearly that although Tadano Itsuki was only a small substitute right now, this first-year student would one day become a pillar of Inashiro Industrial's baseball team.
Seidou High had first-year players they valued deeply, and Inashiro naturally had the same. Tadano Itsuki was precisely the freshman Inashiro placed great hopes on.
It was exactly for this reason that even though Tadano was just a freshman, he had a good understanding of Inashiro's main players, especially their famed ace, Narumiya Mei.
In fact, Tadano had studied Narumiya intensely, so he knew this senior's personality well. When he relayed the coach's message, Tadano had fully expected Narumiya to explode angrily.
Yet, unexpectedly, Narumiya showed no unusual expression. Instead, he continued taking deep, rapid breaths, using every precious second to recover his stamina.
Clearly, the "Prince of Tokyo" himself was also well aware that after battling the Seidou High players up until this point, he had finally reached his absolute physical limit.
From the very start, he'd intentionally tried to conserve his energy, relying on his team's defense as much as possible. But how could the champions of the Kanto Tournament be defeated so easily?
Not to mention Seidou had so many troublesome hitters:
Kuramochi, who scored the first run; Kominato Ryousuke, the devilishly consistent batter; Isashiki Jun, who never followed conventional logic; Yuuki, whose power was terrifyingly beyond a high schooler's level; and the rapidly emerging threat, Furuya Satoru.
Facing all these monsters, how could Narumiya realistically expect to conserve his strength?
Even Miyuki and Masuko were headaches in their own right.
Thus, by this critical point in the game, Narumiya's stamina was dangerously close to collapse.
Otherwise, that last hit by Kominato Haruichi wouldn't have sailed so far.
"Just one more out! If we enter extra innings, I'll have time to recover. The outcome of this game depends on who lasts longer—me, or that first-year monster from Seidou…"
Narumiya knew this clearly in his heart.
Finally, just as their brief time-out was about to end, Narumiya's breathing returned to normal.
"Who do you think you are, lecturing your senpai like this?"
The moment this guy recovered even slightly, his first reaction wasn't to think about his next pitch, but instead to regain face.
"Senpai, it was the coach who made me say it..." Tadano responded innocently.
"It still came from your mouth, didn't it? Same difference!"
Unfortunately for Tadano, explanations like this didn't work at all on Narumiya.
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