First, a pinch runner was substituted, and now their team's cleanup hitter had been replaced.
The various maneuvers by Seidō revealed their all-or-nothing determination.
In fact, they had already succeeded in the first step.
Hadn't the runner, Kuramochi Yōichi, just successfully stolen a base and advanced into scoring position?
Manaka Kaname, standing on the pitcher's mound, sized up Takumi.
Among Seidō players, Takumi's height and build were on the smaller side of average.
He didn't look like a power hitter—far from the strong batter people might have imagined.
Judging by his appearance, he seemed to be a first-year rookie.
Of course, at this point, no one would look down on Seidō for substituting a rookie or make any arrogant remarks.
After all, they had just suffered a loss in that regard.
Once he stepped into the batter's box, he truly felt the pressure imposed by the Ichidaisan players.
This was a completely different sensation from watching the game from the dugout earlier.
Every player on Ichidaisan's team looked formidable, especially the pitcher standing on the mound.
Manaka Kaname stood like the lead actor performing on a grand stage, with his teammates cooperating seamlessly, each firmly holding their positions.
The entire team felt like a dense, intricate net.
He couldn't spot any openings.
No matter where he hit the ball, it seemed the Ichidaisan players would be able to field it immediately.
And that wasn't all.
The Ichidaisan's coach signaled to his players on the field.
"Press forward!"
At the command, all the players advanced.
The infielders stepped two or three paces forward.
Even the outfielders pressed up about three or four meters beyond the infield circle.
With their defensive line tightened, Ichidaisan's entire formation resembled a taut fishing net.
In the Seidō dugout, a group of players felt the pent-up frustration in their hearts ready to explode.
"These guys are despicable!" Rei hissed sharply.
Earlier, she had replaced their team's cleanup hitter with the rookie Takumi.
It wasn't that no one resented the decision.
But given how the game had unfolded so far, letting their cleanup hitter continue to bat wouldn't offer much chance to turn things around. Instead, a rookie who had never appeared before might just pull off a surprise.
That's why they stayed silent.
Unexpectedly, Ichidaisan was ruthless.
With their defensive skills, after shrinking their range, any ball landing within it was almost certain to be snatched.
"Aren't they worried the ball might fly into the outfield?" someone questioned anxiously.
"The cleanup hitter was just replaced. Yamamoto-san's batting technique seems promising, but with his build, how far can he really hit?" another wondered skeptically.
She caught snippets of the player's discussions in the dugout and nodded inwardly.
Though reluctant to admit it, deep down, she knew it was the truth.
Ichidaisan's strategy was flawless—they had immediately identified his Achilles heel.
"What will you do, Yamamoto-san?" she murmured anxiously.
Though the odds were against him, she still hoped for a strong performance.
Standing in the batter's box, Takumi's eyes widened as he watched Ichidaisan's players form an impenetrable defensive fortress.
Not only would it be difficult to make contact with the ball, but even if he did, he had no idea where to hit it.
'Trying to hit the ball out with my own strength is clearly hopeless...' he admitted inwardly.
Ichidaisan's unwavering defense helped him decide quickly.
In a straightforward test of strength, he had no chance.
So he had no choice but to use a cheat.
"Sharingan, activate!"
Just as Manaka Kaname pitched, Takumi activated his Sharingan.
A countdown began echoing in his mind.
"39!"
"38!!"
...
This wasn't the first time he had used this skill to study Manaka's pitching.
Even back in the dugout, he had already observed nine pitches.
Although the distance was relatively far, with his Sharingan activated, he saw every detail clearly.
As a result, he understood him far better than anyone else.
For instance, at this moment, with his Sharingan focused, he could clearly see Manaka's grip on the ball and the angle of his arm swing.
He had already predicted the type of pitch coming next.
'Based on the nine pitches I've observed, when facing an unfamiliar opponent, the first pitch is usually a ball to test them. And the location is always inside,' he reasoned.
Even when throwing a ball to observe, Manaka Kaname aimed for the ball to get close to the batter's body, sending a warning.
Knowing it was a ball, he theoretically should have held his ground.
But he didn't.
He knew well that once Manaka Kaname pitched at full strength, his small frame wouldn't be able to hit the ball far.
His only chance was this probing pitch.
Though the pitch looked powerful, because Manaka had to control it, the ball not only had to stray from the strike zone but also couldn't actually hit the batter.
His pitching force was generally restrained.
After all, from Manaka Kaname's perspective, he didn't believe anyone would intentionally swing at a bad pitch.
Whoosh!
The baseball whizzed by, its path barely grazing his body.
Some teammates in the Seidō dugout gasped involuntarily.
Yet, in the batter's box, he remained remarkably calm.
Before Manaka Kaname pitched, he had taken half a step back.
As a result, what should have been an inside ball transformed into a perfectly centered strike.
"How is this even possible?" someone whispered in disbelief.
The Ichidaisan catcher's eyes widened, stunned by the sight.
"Why is he just standing there?" he demanded.
No one had an answer.
At that moment, everyone saw him gripping the bat tightly with both hands, and as the ball approached, he swung decisively.
Ping!
The ball soared high into the sky after the solid strike.
He let go of the bat, feeling as if the web between his thumb and forefinger might tear from the impact.
Even with Manaka Kaname's reduced power, his pitching still left him in awe.
"What did they feed this guy? He's so strong!" Someone exclaimed in disbelief.
After hitting the ball, he took off running.
But no one paid attention to him just yet; all eyes were fixed on the ball flying over the infield.
The outfielders of Ichidaisan had rushed within a few meters of the infield.
By the time the ball sailed over their heads, they had no time to retreat.
They could only watch helplessly as it landed, bounced, and skipped into the unguarded outfield.
"It got through!" someone shouted breathlessly.
"That kid actually did it—he drove the ball into the outfield!" another exclaimed in astonishment.
"Run, Takumi-kun!" Yōichi urged urgently.