[Congratulations host! You have successfully won your first battle and have been promoted to Genin]
[The host has successfully activated the Shinobi World main quest. Rewards will be granted each time you level up.
Ninja promotion path: Genin, Chunin, Jonin, Special Jonin, Kage, Super Kage, Six Paths!
Genin reward issued: Congratulations, you have received the A-rank skill, Rasengan]
His system seemed to have transported itself to the wrong world.
Its function was simple: as long as he won battles, he could accumulate merit.
Of course, there was one important prerequisite: he had to be in the C position during the battle.
In the world of Diamond no Ace, this meant he could only receive rewards when standing on the pitcher's mound.
The system's so-called first battle should have been a novice mission.
That was during the tryouts for the Third String. Although he had performed brilliantly then, he wasn't in the C position.
So, no reward was issued.
It wasn't until now, when he finally took the pitcher's mound, that the reward for his first battle was granted.
Ten merit points earned, promoted to Genin.
Upon promotion, he received the Rasengan as a reward.
Without Chakra, the Rasengan skill could only be applied by throwing objects.
It didn't necessarily have to be a baseball; other items could work as well.
The objects he threw with Rasengan possessed unimaginable power.
Understanding this instantly, he couldn't help but smile bitterly.
If his Sharingan hadn't evolved, if he hadn't, on a strange impulse, wanted to take the pitcher's mound—
would his system have ever awakened?
From Genin to Chunin required 60 merit points.
In other words, he needed to complete six more missions and win six games.
His heart swelled with ambition.
There were many high school games ahead. If he could advance through six games, he might even reach the level of Six Paths.
A Genin was an A-rank reward.
Although he hadn't yet witnessed the full effect of this A-rank reward, he knew its power would be extraordinary.
It was similar to his S-rank Sharingan—just not as strong.
"Pitch!"
Miyuki Kazuya, crouched in the catcher's position, shot a sharp glance at Takumi, who stood frozen on the mound, hesitating repeatedly.
At last, unable to contain himself any longer, he urged loudly, breaking the silence.
Only then did Takumi snap out of the daze caused by the system's voice.
Now, in his mind, alongside his Sharingan, a second option appeared:
Rasengan!
Like the Sharingan, because he had no Chakra, Rasengan consumed his stamina and mental energy.
With his current reserves, he could throw only three full-powered Rasengan pitches—or thirty weaker ones.
He didn't hesitate to forgo the full-powered Rasengan.
Three pitches, even if perfect, could only take out one batter.
What use was a pitcher who could only retire a single batter?
He'd be nothing more than a useless decoration—like a deaf man's ear.
The next-best Rasengan, though significantly weaker, could be thrown thirty times.
That was perfect!
On the mound, his mind vividly replayed Midori's pitching.
Every subtle movement—the precise positioning of Midori's fingers on the ball, the tiniest shift in his body—was etched clearly in his memory.
Then, mimicking that motion, he lifted his leg.
Bulky Midori, constrained by his physique, couldn't raise his leg very high.
But Takumi hoisted his leg over his shoulder.
"Lifting his leg that high?" someone murmured in disbelief.
This unusual pitching motion instantly drew Nanamori's attention.
Their coach and all the players watched him with solemn expressions, intently anticipating his next move.
Then they saw him take a long stride forward, his arm—hand gripping the ball—bending in a fluid, precise motion.
The others hadn't reacted yet.
But their team's ace pitcher, Midori, suddenly widened his eyes.
He sensed that the boy on the mound was using a strangely familiar pitching motion.
It was as if he had seen it somewhere before.
Yet, try as he might, he couldn't quite place where.
Boom!
Takumi's body wasn't particularly strong.
But the force behind the ball launched from his hand was terrifying.
Everyone present—players from both Seidō and Nanamori—watched in stunned silence.
Their eyes filled with shock and disbelief. How could such a small frame conceal such overwhelming power?
Nanamori's third batter, the team's core hitter who had excelled in previous games, was now completely frozen facing this pitch.
He stared at the ball in disbelief.
Until it flew past his eyes and slammed heavily into the mitt.
Snap!
Then, to everyone's surprise, the star catcher failed to catch the pitch.
The ball slipped from his grasp.
"Wow!!"
The entire stadium erupted in uproar.
They were all deeply shaken by that pitch.
Takumi saw the prompt in his mind: with the consumption of mental energy and stamina,
he now had only twenty-one pitches remaining.
He had been on the field since the very start of today's game.
If it weren't for his outfield position, which didn't consume much stamina,
he would only be able to throw a dozen or so of these Rasengan pitches.
Fortunately, the effect was impressive.
He calmly opened his mitt, signaling Miyuki to throw the ball back.
Miyuki picked up the ball beside him, a bright smile spreading across his face.
After the initial shock, his heart was now filled with pleasant surprise.
What Seidō lacked most right now was an excellent pitcher.
No matter what other shortcomings Takumi might have,
his pitching alone was enough to earn him a spot on Seidō's First String.
"My apologies, that pitch was my fault. I promise it won't happen again," Takumi admitted earnestly.
Miyuki eagerly tossed the ball back.
Takumi responded with a confident nod.
The two looked perfectly natural, as if this weren't a high-stakes game but just their daily practice.
Nanamori's players stared wide-eyed at the scene.
Could the other side at least pay some attention to them while they chatted?
Especially Nanamori's coach.
Though he had already suspected Takumi might be Seidō's secret weapon,
seeing it unfold before him still left him deeply shaken.
"Kataoka-san, you've hidden him too well, haven't you?" he muttered, voice tinged with grudging respect.
Everyone claimed Seidō lacked top-tier pitchers—so what, then, was this astonishing display unfolding before their eyes?