The Yakushi players erupted in celebration the moment the umpire made the call.
"Kitamura is so reliable!"
"We've got this in the bag!"
Back in the dugout, Kitamura Kou overheard Nakanishi Daiki's overly confident remark and lightly knocked him on the head.
"Idiot. It's too early to celebrate. There's a saying in baseball—the real game doesn't start until there are two outs in the bottom of the ninth."
"Ow, ow, ow! I get it!" Nakanishi clutched his head, wincing. "You didn't have to hit me that hard!"
"Serves you right," Kou replied, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat pouring down his face. "Who told you to talk nonsense?"
Nakanishi pouted. "It's just… Narumiya Mei was acting so arrogant. Seeing him take a hit like that, I got carried away."
Sanada Shunpei stepped forward and handed Kou a cup of water. "Drink. You're sweating more than usual. Are you okay? Should I start warming up?"
Kou took a few sips, then wiped his face again. "I'm fine. My body just can't handle staying in the ZONE continuously right now. I won't force it unless it's absolutely necessary. If you're restless, go ahead and warm up—it might pressure them a bit."
Sanada smiled. "Not yet. Maybe later."
Todoroki Raizo turned toward Kou, his expression unusually serious.
"Kitamura, don't push yourself too hard. If you get injured, it's not worth it. I'd rather lose than see my players sacrifice their future. As someone who's played professionally, take this advice seriously. Too many talented players have had their careers ruined by injuries."
Kou paused for a moment, then smiled.
In this world where results often mattered more than people, a coach like Raizo was rare. Kou felt lucky—lucky to have joined Yakushi, lucky to have met these teammates.
And for their sake, he had to win.
"Let's go together," Kou said, his smile bright. "To that stage."
The team returned his smile in unison, each silently making the same vow:
We have to support Kou. Even making Narumiya throw one extra pitch helps.
Kou's inside-the-park home run had clearly shaken Narumiya Mei. His control wavered, and he ended up walking Mishima Yuta.
Masatoshi Harada immediately called for a timeout.
The Inashiro players gathered on the mound.
"We don't need this," Narumiya snapped, clearly irritated.
Harada's expression remained stern. "Listen. We can't allow another run. You know how strong their pitcher is. If we fall further behind, it'll be much harder to catch up. You understand that, right?"
"I know!" Narumiya shot back. Then, frowning, he added, "Also… you're too close. Your face is huge and scary."
"What did you just say about my face?!"
"It is big!"
The two glared at each other like bulls about to charge.
From the side, Shirakawa Katsuyuki's cold voice cut in. "Do you have a problem?"
Narumiya clicked his tongue. "No. I just felt pressure from that batter. They're definitely trying to score more off me. If I were pitching, this wouldn't even be a crisis. Alright, break it up—we're finishing this inning fast. I still need to get back to the batter's box and deal with that guy."
Seeing Narumiya regain his composure, the team relaxed and returned to their positions.
Harada stepped closer one last time. "First pitch—make it tricky. Let's observe him."
"You're so annoying," Narumiya muttered.
But Harada cut him off.
"Just one thing… that run wasn't your fault. Your pitch was excellent."
Narumiya froze for a brief second.
Then, silently, he steadied himself.
"Ball!"
The first pitch missed the zone by a hair. The umpire, influenced by the previous walks, called it a ball.
Harada observed carefully. He's calmer than expected. This first-year… his batting ability isn't simple.
"Strike!"
The second pitch clipped the outside corner. Akaishi stuck to his plan—no risky swings before two strikes.
"Strike two!"
Narumiya exhaled slowly, his confidence returning.
"You think you can beat me that easily?" he muttered. "I'm not like those pitchers from Ichidaisan or Seido. I am Narumiya Mei."
With that declaration, he unleashed a pitch filled with his conviction.
The ball screamed toward the plate at 148 km/h, high and inside.
Akaishi Osamu locked onto it.
Kou is carrying everything right now…
The only hit was his… I couldn't even catch his best pitch cleanly…
Am I really fulfilling my role as his partner?
His grip tightened.
No matter what… I have to buy Kou time.
With that resolve, Akaishi swung with everything he had.
The bat cut through the air with a sharp whoosh—
Breaking past his limits.
A pitch filled with Narumiya Mei's belief.
A swing fueled by Akaishi Osamu's determination.
Whose conviction would prevail?