The ball flew into the outfield, bounced, and rolled farther away.
What was even more alarming was that the Ichidaisan, trying to pressure Takumi—who didn't seem to have strong batting skills—had all adopted an aggressive, forward defense.
This meant that once the ball passed the fielders, no one was left to stop it.
The path was wide open.
The ball bounced freely as the Ichidaisan players scrambled frantically behind it.
"Hee-haw!" Yōichi whooped with exhilaration.
Seeing the opportunity, he sprang to his feet, his steps blazing like wheels on fire as he dashed past third base, charging straight for home plate.
"Safe!"
With that, the Seidō High School Baseball Team successfully scored a run.
The score was now 1–2.
It wasn't over yet; Takumi was still on base.
Thanks to Ichidaisan's defensive miscalculation, he had plenty of time. After dropping his bat, he ran from first to second base, then from second to third.
However, just as he prepared to press forward,
the ball, after a quick relay, had already snapped into the Ichidaisan catcher's mitt.
Thwack!
Two outs, runner stranded on third.
A chorus of disappointed groans reverberated from the Seidō dugout.
"What a shame—just one more step!" someone lamented.
"He's too slow; if it had been anyone else, they'd be home by now," another grumbled bitterly.
"Just one run short!" a third exclaimed with frustration.
It was only natural for the players to voice their sting of disappointment after missing the chance to tie the game with a single swing.
Takashima Rei, standing at the front of the dugout, adjusted her glasses with a finger and murmured, "Well done."
She, too, carried the weight of regret for not leveling the score then and there.
But in this moment, regret was useless. Games are never perfect; regrets are simply part of the game.
The most crucial question was whether their goal had been achieved.
From the current results, her goal had clearly been half accomplished.
This run fully demonstrated that their opponent was not invincible. It was undoubtedly a great psychological boost for the Seidō's Second String players.
Even if they lost the game afterward, it wouldn't have as severe an impact.
As for the other half of her concern—would Manaka Kaname be affected?
"To have the ball cleanly hit by a first-year I've never even heard of—how would you feel?" she wondered thoughtfully.
Not only she, but the Ichidaisan players themselves understood this.
Their eyes instinctively flicked toward Manaka Kaname.
"It's just one run, no big deal. I never expected to face Seidō without giving up a single run," he remarked coolly.
After a fleeting shadow of disappointment, he quickly lifted his head.
With quiet confidence, he raised a finger toward the sky: "Let's get the next out."
His calm and composed demeanor undoubtedly inspired immense confidence in his teammates.
A pitcher who remains emotionally steady and positive brings an immeasurable belief to the entire team.
Takumi stood on third base, witnessing it all firsthand.
Manaka Kaname seemed to glow in his eyes.
"Is this what an Ace pitcher looks like?" he pondered quietly.
No one could offer him an answer.
Something unknown was quietly stirring within him.
The game continued, with the Seidō on offense.
Takashima Rei sent in the team's most skilled batter.
Even though this would disrupt their overall defense, she couldn't afford to worry about that now. The most important thing was to break Manaka Kaname.
If they succeeded, hope would remain.
If they failed, the final outcome would be unchanged.
She embraced a do-or-die mentality, willing to gamble on this moment.
Ping!
The strongest pinch hitter in the Second String certainly had skill. After fouling off two pitches, he finally made solid contact with the ball.
But the moment the ball was struck, a chorus of disappointed sighs erupted from the Seidō dugout.
"We fell right into it!" someone groaned.
Manaka Kaname had clearly shown a weakness intentionally, baiting the batter into swinging.
The ball flew straight into the first baseman's mitt.
Thwack!
"Out!"
Three outs, side retired.
The fourth inning ended with the score at 1–2.
Aside from the very start of the game, this was the closest the two teams had been.
In the fifth inning, the lead widened to 1–3.
By the end of the ninth inning, the final score was 1–6.
Ichidaisan specifically brought back two batters whose skills were respectable.
But overall, Seidō held their ground.
In previous matches between the two Second String teams, scores typically ranged from four or five runs to seven or eight.
The difference today wasn't too great.
Losing by six runs showed that Seidō still performed very well defensively.
Even with a disrupted lineup, the players fought hard to keep the score close.
The reason for the loss ultimately came down to Manaka Kaname.
His skill was clearly beyond the Second String level—and by a significant margin.
As a result, Seidō's players found themselves unable to gain any advantage against him.
"Your team played exceptionally well; you've truly opened our eyes," the Ichidaisan coach praised, beaming with pride.
They hadn't tasted such a decisive victory over their archrival Seidō in quite a long time.
"You also gave it your all," Rei acknowledged thoughtfully.
If it hadn't been for Manaka Kaname, today's outcome would almost certainly have been different.
But there are no "ifs" in this world.
Especially by this summer, Manaka Kaname would undoubtedly return to Ichidaisan's First String.
Given the pitching he displayed, once he rejoins Ichidaisan's First String, he will likely give Seidō a lot of trouble.
'Ichidaisan has Manaka, and Tokyo's most promising pitcher this year went to Inashiro,' she reflected bitterly.
It was well known that these two teams were never short of talented pitchers.
Among the three powerhouses of West Tokyo, it was universally acknowledged that Seidō was the one most lacking an Ace.
But why was it that their team, in particular, struggled to attract promising pitchers?
"Next year, I must find an Ace prospect…" she vowed resolutely.
After the game ended, players from both teams didn't forget to exchange greetings.
"Thank you for the game!"
"Thank you for the game!!"
The Ichidaisan players finished their farewells and prepared to leave, while the Seidō players politely saw them off.
Suddenly, Manaka Kaname, trailing at the very back of the group, spun his head them.
"What's your name?" he asked sharply.
Hearing the question, Yōichi hesitated before pointing to himself.
"Me?" he echoed uncertainly.
"Not you, I meant him," Manaka Kaname clarified firmly.
Following his gesture, everyone's gaze shifted to Takumi.