The top of the first inning ended with the score locked at 0-0.
In the Nanamori dugout, their coach, his frustration boiling over, barked, "Didn't you say their Second String wasn't worthy of facing you? Is this how you're answering me?!"
The Nanamori players all hung their heads in shame.
The game had just begun, yet their opponents had already dealt them a harsh blow.
They never imagined that a team's Second String could perform with such strength.
Yet, the Nanamori players remained skeptical.
"That pitcher's nothing special," one muttered confidently. "Give us time, and we'll definitely hit him."
"The real challenge is their catcher," another whispered, worry creeping into his voice.
Recalling Miyuki Kazuya's pitch calling, the Nanamori players suddenly felt a headache.
That guy completely defied convention; they couldn't figure out his strategy at all.
"That's more like it," their coach snapped sharply. "If you're ashamed, then play better. It doesn't matter if you don't score—just don't let them score. That would be truly shameful. Now go!"
In the bottom of the first inning, Seidō's team took the offense.
Coach Kataoka, serving as home plate umpire, watched the boy step up to the batter's box through his protective mask.
Unlike typical power hitters, Takumi's lean physique gave off no intimidating aura.
Yet this seemingly unremarkable player had time and again sent the ball soaring and secured crucial hits on the field.
His performance had even caught Coach Kataoka's attention.
"Then let me see what you can truly do out there," he murmured, his voice low but commanding.
Coach Kataoka's eyes narrowed, sharp and unyielding—like twin searchlights locked onto him.
To say Takumi wasn't nervous would be a lie.
Coach Kataoka held the highest authority in the entire Seidō High School Baseball Team.
With a single word, he could promote him to the First String.
But if unsatisfied, Takumi would have to toil in the Second String for at least another six months—or even longer.
The third-year seniors longed for promotion to the First String.
He was no different. He wanted to reach the First String as soon as possible and prove himself there.
Perhaps then his stubborn system would grant him new achievement rewards.
Stepping into the batter's box, he fixed his gaze intently on his opponent.
The ace of Nanamori was a massive man.
He was corpulent, and his movements lacked agility.
A stark contrast to the ace from Ichidaisan he had faced before.
Yet, when this bulky pitcher stood on the mound, gripping the ball, the aura he radiated seemed to sweep everything away.
Even Coach Kataoka paused momentarily, surprised by the sheer presence.
What overwhelming pressure!
Such terrifying intensity had never been seen from any pitcher on Seidō.
"Midori-san, throw it!" came the shout from the dugout.
The pitcher, Midori, finally took a step forward.
His pillar-like legs didn't lift but simply stepped ahead.
Yet, with that simple motion, both he on the mound and Coach Kataoka behind home plate felt as if a mountain of flesh was pressing down on them.
It was like a whole mountain of flesh bearing down!
Boom!
The ball was released, crashing forward like a collapsing mountain.
He had activated his Sharingan early; aware of his own limits.
Without this skill, he simply couldn't compete with the monsters on the field.
Still, even with Sharingan activated, the oppressive weight from that mountain of flesh was terrifyingly strong.
He adjusted his breathing several times, fighting the urge to retreat.
As the ball neared, he swung decisively.
With the Sharingan activated, the pitch's speed wasn't overwhelming, and the ball landed squarely in the strike zone.
He had no reason not to swing.
Ping!
As the bat struck the ball, he felt as if the skin on his palm was about to tear.
"Did I hit a rock?" he silently grumbled to himself.
The force transmitted through the bat nearly made it slip from his hands.
His intended hitting direction shifted completely.
After contact, the ball soared directly out of bounds along the first base line.
Whack!
"Foul ball!!" someone shouted excitedly.
The Nanamori players erupted in cheers, their voices bursting with joy.
"That's right! Did you think we were easy to bully?" one taunted fiercely.
"Midori-san, show him your power!!" another urged passionately.
Hearing his teammates' encouragement, Midori's face scrunched up like a steamed bun.
"Okay!" he muttered, his voice muffled and lacking conviction.
Yet despite that, his pitching carried an oppressive, undeniable force.
The players in the Seidō dugout shivered, their scalps tingling at the sight.
"This guy's pitching power is extraordinary!" one gasped in awe.
"I never imagined a top-four pitcher from West Tokyo could possess such strength," another murmured, disbelief lacing his words.
At home plate, while everyone else's eyes were glued to the pitcher, Coach Kataoka's gaze remained fixed on Takumi.
Unstable lower body.
Insufficient core strength.
Loose grip on the bat with both hands.
Overall, his body lacked proper training.
Physically, he shouldn't even be on Seidō's Second String.
Of course, it wasn't all weaknesses.
Although all of Takumi's metrics fell short in Coach Kataoka's eyes, there was one undeniable advantage he possessed.
That was his vision and impeccable timing in reading pitches.
The previous pitch spun incredibly fast, yet he accurately predicted the ball's landing spot and struck it precisely there.
That's how he managed to hit the ball out.
Despite his various shortcomings, this alone was enough reason for the team to focus on developing him.
Physical fitness can be trained.
Especially at Seidō, where they have extensive experience in this area.
But talent—
His talent for precisely anticipating the ball's landing spot—cannot be improved through simple training.
Only truly gifted individuals possess that skill.
Coach Kataoka nodded quietly.
He had already approved Takumi and would ensure the team paid close attention to him from now on.
But could he be promoted to the First String?
Coach Kataoka couldn't decide that yet.
Talent alone isn't enough for promotion.
One must also demonstrate sufficient value.
And what Takumi currently lacked most was precisely that.
"What will you do when you face a pitch you absolutely cannot hit?" Kataoka murmured, his voice probing.
Takumi seemed to sense the weight of Coach Kataoka's gaze, his expression hardening with newfound seriousness.
This seemingly bulky pitcher naturally challenged him.