Interesting (3)
Crack!
“Whoa!”
“Yes!”
“Go!”
Bottom of the first inning, Yoshioka High versus Seisho High.
Seisho’s number-three hitter, Kazuma Junpei, sent a ball soaring toward the right-field fence. Once he confirmed the flight path, Junpei eased off his sprint even more.
“It’s gone!”
“Home run!”
“Junpei!”
The result was Junpei’s three-run homer—bringing home the two runners who had shaken up the infield, plus himself.
“·····”
As expected.
Seisho’s starting pitcher, Hongo Yukihisa, who had already been certain of the home run, simply sipped water and calmly enjoyed the early lead.
After tagging home and returning to the bench, Junpei was greeted by Coach Maeda.
“That was an excellent swing.”
“Thank you.”
For the content of the exchange, the two men’s expressions barely shifted—both remained composed. That was only natural when Coach Maeda and Junpei, two of the least emotionally demonstrative people in Seisho, met. Still, that home run had put Seisho firmly ahead and lightened the coach’s shoulders.
“All right, all right—let’s keep scoring!”
Team captain Shirakawa Satoru, who had been the runner on third when the homer left the park, clapped and called out. Nothing in baseball lifted spirits quite like a home run.
Pop!
“Strikeout!”
“Ah, so close!”
But cleanup hitter Matsuda Masahiro lined out, number-five Sanada Atsushi grounded to second, and number-six Inoue Kotaro took a big cut at a diving splitter and struck out.
“Inoue, I told you to lay off the low ones.”
“I’m sorry!”
“You need to pay more attention to your approach at the plate.”
“·····Understood.”
Coach Maeda scolded the big left-handed hitter Inoue Kotaro. He didn’t particularly criticize the big swing—that was the source of Inoue’s power—but the kid needed to get smarter in the box. Home runs, walks, strikeouts. OPS-type hitters who produced those three outcomes more than most still had to be sharp in the cat-and-mouse game even when they swung their own way.
“It’s Hongo’s first start, so three runs in the first feels a little unfair, doesn’t it?”
Before heading out to play shortstop, Satoru said with a grin.
“No.”
“Huh?”
Yukihisa stepped forward first.
“This game—three runs were always going to be enough.”
“·····What bluster.”
Satoru let out a short laugh at the second-year pitcher’s spirit on the mound today.
Pop!
“Ball!”
A fastball that painted the inside corner with exquisite precision. The batter flinched, but the umpire’s hand never rose.
“That was a ball?”
“Ump! Open your eyes!”
“One-fifty-one!”
“That was an artistic strikeout pitch and you robbed him of it!”
Top of the second, Yoshioka High 0 – Seisho High 3.
With two outs and a 1-2 count, Seisho pitcher Hongo Yukihisa’s fastball was not called a strike, and boos poured down from the Seisho cheering section.
“·····”
Seisho’s manager Nagasawa Haruka, who had arrived late and taken a seat farther back, watched the game intently.
Even if it wasn’t called…
Haruka could only marvel at the fact that Yukihisa had just painted the inside corner so precisely with a fastball. On top of that, Yukihisa was currently sitting on five consecutive strikeouts. Overwhelming stuff, plus the boldness and command to bury a 151 km/h fastball on the inner half. He had completely dominated the game so far.
In the next instant Yukihisa fired again, showing not the slightest hint of disappointment over the previous ball call.
Pop!
Yes!
The batter’s bat spun through empty air on a pitch with a huge drop.
“Strikeout!”
“Nice!”
“Insane splitter!”
“That’s it!”
Six consecutive strikeouts. Anyone watching their team’s pitcher dismantle opposing hitters had no choice but to go wild.
“Amazing! Completely different from the guy who was throwing over there earlier.”
“Mm, yeah.”
Sitting beside Haruka were Hirose Satsuki and Wakui Naomi. Even Naomi, who had been watching more quietly than Satsuki, was startled by Yukihisa’s pitching. She might not know much about baseball, but she could tell that someone out there was displaying superior skill.
“Hey, Haruka-chan, that pitch just now—that was the one you were talking about, right? It doesn’t make that huge bang sound, but it’s hard to hit—”
“Yeah! That’s right, it’s a splitter. It’s slower, but it comes after a fastball and drops down, so it’s tough to hit.”
“I see·····”
“Mm?”
Satsuki’s eyes suddenly sparkled, and Haruka flinched.
“Haruka-chan, just now you were totally cool.”
“R-really?”
“Yeah! Haruka-chan’s pretty, and you’re a total baseball expert too.”
“Wha—?”
Watching Satsuki lean even closer, Haruka edged back a little. Setting her looks aside, there simply hadn’t been many people around to compliment her appearance, so it had been quite a while since she’d heard something like that.
“·····”
In times like this…
It was a little embarrassing, but—
“Hirose, you’re really pretty too.”
“Really? Thanks!”
Satsuki answered with a smiling squint of her eyes.
“Haa, I can’t take you anywhere.”
Satsuki was already diving in headfirst with a high-school girl she’d only just met. No matter how you looked at it, her friend was making the other person uncomfortable, so Wakui Naomi shook her head in resignation.
“Ahem.”
When Seisho’s offense began, the atmosphere around them grew a little noisier. As Satsuki turned her head the other way, Haruka sank into thought.
Hmph!
Haruka puffed out a little snort without realizing it, and a small smile slipped free. Girls instinctively liked being called pretty. On top of that, she couldn’t even remember the last time—if there had ever been a time—someone had highly valued the fact that she knew baseball well. And even if it was a little childish, the other girl felt like someone from a completely different world—an outgoing popular high-school girl—so the words carried a different weight.
Crack!
“Out!”
Bottom of the second.
Seisho’s leadoff hitter, number-seven Okada Shugo, grounded out. Yoshioka High’s pitcher was also aiming to be the best in the prefecture; he was no pushover.
Now batting, number 8, pitcher, Hongo.
And stepping into the box was none other than Hongo Yukihisa.
“Eighth, huh?”
“He looks like he’s got an incredible build—maybe no talent for hitting?”
“Just looking at that body you’d think he should be batting sixth at least.”
“Our Seisho lineup’s gotta be pretty stacked, right?”
Spectators offered their comments as Yukihisa walked to the plate. Even in the pros, only a tiny handful of teams could put a competitive hitter in the eight-hole. So no one seemed to expect much from Hongo as he gripped the bat and settled into his stance.
Hongo-kun.
Haruka watched Yukihisa’s at-bat closely. He was absolutely not a low-level hitter. His physical tools alone were already beyond high-school level.
Right-handed-hitting Yukihisa gripped the bat fairly long.
Crack!
“Whoa!”
One spectator screamed at the sharp crack of the bat. Yukihisa had squared up the first pitch, and the ball rocketed like a bullet into left field, dropping to the left of the left fielder.
“Woooah!”
“Take second!”
Despite the blistering exit velocity, Yukihisa reached second base. With one out, a runner was now in scoring position.
“What was that sound just now?”
“I thought the ball was going to split in half.”
“His hitting’s excellent too, Hongo!”
Yukihisa’s pitching had already raised expectations through articles and word of mouth, but his hitting was a result no one had really anticipated. That made the crowd’s reaction even hotter.
Nice one, Hongo-kun.
Haruka beamed.
“Amazing! He’s so good at baseball.”
Beside her, Satsuki covered her mouth in admiration.
“·····”
Strange.
Haruka found Satsuki rather fascinating. Even the concept of going to second on a single just now was probably something she didn’t fully understand. How could someone who barely knew baseball get so invested?
“All right, show us another strikeout!”
They had a good chance with one out and a runner on second, but the following batters failed to come through, and Seisho’s bottom of the second ended. Yet when the top of the third began, the spectators who wanted to see Yukihisa pitch again seemed almost happy about it.
Pop!
“Strike!”
Pop!
“Strike!”
The first pitch was a curve that caught the zone. The second was a splitter that filled the outer half completely.
Incredible.
Not only dropping a splitter into the zone to induce a swing-and-miss, but also using it to get ahead in the count. Haruka marveled at the versatile ways Yukihisa was deploying his splitter.
Pop!
“Ball!”
This time an outside slider. The right-handed batter didn’t offer, but the angle was good enough to make him flinch.
Then Yukihisa, still on a consecutive-strikeout streak, delivered.
Pop!
Haruka clenched her fist tight.
“Strikeout!”
A high fastball made the batter’s bat whirl through nothing, and the third strike was called.
“Strikeout!”
“Over 150 again this time!”
“Seven in a row!”
“Is this for real?!”
The sight of a pitcher mowing down hitters like autumn leaves made the surroundings quite noisy. Of course Haruka barely heard any of it. She was focused only on the members of the baseball club she managed.
If this keeps up…
Yukihisa looked as if he had awakened the moment he returned. And what about the fielders behind him? Even if a batter happened to mis-hit one, there was a solid feeling that they would snag almost anything. On top of that, a lineup the experts called the strongest in the West Tokyo district.
Haruka was dreaming of Seisho standing on the Koshien stage for the first time in five years this year.
Crack!
“Huh?”
In that moment the next batter laid down a bunt that rolled toward the pitcher.
“Out!”
The result was a first-pitch grounder—pure profit for the pitcher.
“What was that just now?!”
“A bunt here?”
“Does Yoshioka have no sportsmanship?!”
“Who plays baseball like that?!”
“Boooooo!”
Boos rained down from the Seisho stands. They had wanted to see the consecutive-strikeout streak go past seven to eight, nine, even ten, and now it had been broken.
“Aaaah, people are scary. Haruka-chan, why is everyone like that?”
“People think it’s cool when a pitcher gets outs with just his pitches, so they’re upset it got cut off.”
“Really? That’s a little hard.”
“But for our school it’s a total win.”
“Right? Because it’s an out.”
“Yeah.”
Haruka nodded with a smile. She was speaking so calmly she almost wondered if this side of herself had always been there. Satsuki was flashy, but when the conversation stayed inside the world of baseball, Haruka felt quite confident.
Pop!
“Strikeout!”
Good.
A splitter against a left-handed batter. It dropped straight down and the out count rose.
“Huu·····”
I loosened up again before the next batter stepped in.
Top of the sixth.
We had put together another big inning in the bottom of the fifth and the score was now 0–8.
But…
As long as I was on the mound, no matter how far ahead we were, my baseball wasn’t over yet.
Now batting, number 4, first baseman, Sugiuchi.
That guy.
He’d hit a double off me earlier, hadn’t he?
I tried to hide my expression behind my glove. Two outs now, nobody on. The desire to put him away right here was rising from deep in my gut. Chest hot, heart still cold—I threw according to Matsuda-senpai’s lead.
Pop!
“Strike!”
Was he sitting on it?
The Yoshioka High batter in the box was a lefty. Last time he’d hit a curve that caught the zone. This time another curve—but it dropped below the zone and induced a swing.
Pop!
“Strike!”
A thin smile.
A splitter diving off the outer edge. It had slipped a little from my hand and missed the zone by a fair margin, yet he still swung. Pretty aggressive. They were probably trying to fire themselves up with the Koshien preliminaries not far off. Especially since he was the cleanup guy.
“·····”
A little annoying.
Only the sixth inning. I’d thrown a little over eighty pitches and my stamina was already lagging so the splitter wasn’t perfect? I couldn’t forgive myself. But what could I do? I’d just have to focus more on conditioning work and tough it out.
Matsuda-senpai’s lead. It was quite sharp, and it matched my own thinking.
Pop!
“·····”
Since he was coming out so aggressive, maybe he thought we’d give in at least once. But Matsuda-senpai called for a fastball on the inner half.
“Strikeout!”
The result froze the batter in place, then made him drop his head—a looking strikeout.
“Wooooaaaah!”
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Maybe the score gap had loosened the tension, or maybe it was because I’d paid back the earlier damage—either way, the applause from the stands came through clearly.
“Hongo, you’re amazing!”
“Seisho’s ace has arrived!”
“·····”
How stupid.
Applause, and even people calling my name. The thought that I was satisfied with this much, that I had been recognized—that was forbidden even in dreams.
Six innings, twelve strikeouts, three hits, one walk. Scoreless, sure, but full of things that needed fixing. There would be a chance next inning too, right? Focus a little more·····
Crack!
“Huh?”
Our number-five hitter Sanada Atsushi sent a ball flying far into the distance. One out, runner on third—sacrifice fly? No, it went even farther.
“Hongo, get ready early.”
Matsuda-senpai said.
These four-school games had a mercy-rule provision like the Koshien preliminaries: after the fifth inning, if the lead reached ten runs, the leading team was declared the winner. And Sanada’s ball cleared the right-field stands far away, completing the tenth run.
Just like that, I had no innings left today.