Thirst (4)
The runner on third was charging home—and so was the man on second!
Seisho’s Minamino Shintaro, who had been standing on second, clenched his teeth and sprinted for the plate. Sugano’s center fielder Hayakawa unleashed a throw toward home with a motion so violent it looked as if his arm might snap.
At the plate!
Minamino launched into a headfirst slide.
“Safe!”
Safe! He scores!
“Waaaaaaaaaah!”
In that instant one entire side of Meiji Jingu Stadium erupted as if the stands themselves might collapse under the roar.
“We’re ahead!”
“Kazuma-senpai!”
“Kazuma!”
“We can win this!”
Seisho alumni. Ordinary fans who had simply come to cheer. First- and second-years who burned to stand in those same seats next year or the year after. Even the third-years who had never once appeared in an official game and were already retired poured their hearts into the cheers. Sharing a school—attending it, graduating from it, loving it—forged a bond that deep.
“Thank goodness the runs came early.”
“Haa…”
“Haru-chan? You’re not about to collapse, are you?”
“I’m fine.”
Fukada Riko was beaming. Beside her, Nagasawa Haruka pressed a hand to her chest as if she had aged ten years in a single inning. Today’s game had her nerves stretched to the breaking point; the moment it ended she felt certain she would simply crumple from exhaustion.
Please…
Haruka wished it could end right here.
Let’s look at that again.
To say the splitter didn’t drop enough would be too harsh on Naruse. He squared it up cleanly.
In his final summer as a third-year, Seisho’s number-three hitter Kazuma Junpei delivers the go-ahead hit! That roar carries every drop of sweat he poured into his high-school career!
“Yes!”
Clap! Clap!
The runners who had just produced the go-ahead runs returned to the bench grinning ear to ear. Shirakawa Satoru and Minamino Shintaro high-fived their teammates and dropped into their seats.
“Batting fourth, catcher, Matsuda.”
“Matsuda-senpai!”
“Crush another one!”
“….”
Matsuda Masahiro stepped into the box. Sanada Atsushi waited in the on-deck circle. Hongo Yukihisa stood watching them both.
We can win this.
The opponents had claimed West Tokyo the last two years running. But they could be broken right here. Yukihisa believed it was possible—so long as he himself could throw his absolute best pitches through the ninth.
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Swinging strikeout! After surrendering a home run to Matsuda last time up, Naruse freezes him with a strikeout!
That’s Naruse for you—gave up the lead but still throwing quality stuff.
Crack—!
It’s up high!
Fifth batter Sanada Atsushi’s ball never left the infield. The second baseman simply reached his glove skyward and snagged it.
“Batting sixth, pitcher, Hongo.”
Still no easy outs. Hongo Yukihisa has been dealing against Naruse all day—can he manufacture an insurance run?
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
He drops the splitter! Swinging strikeout! Sugano High ends a long top of the sixth!
“Tch.”
Yukihisa had yet to manage a hit off the opposing ace today. Swallowing the frustration, he climbed the mound.
Crack—!
He got wood on it—this ball’s…!
I threw an outside slider, but the batter made contact. The ball caught the end of the bat. I turned my head to track it and watched it sail into that awkward gap in left-center.
Tch.
Those usually drop for hits. We were starting over with their leadoff man—just my luck.
“Huh?”
But center fielder Aizawa Junya-senpai was airborne?
He snags it!
Whoa—hahaha, would you look at that.
Seisho center fielder Aizawa Junya lays out with everything he has! Two outs!
Seisho is truly tough!
Applause came out of me on pure reflex. Aizawa-senpai lifted the glove with the ball still nestled inside and grinned. For a pitcher, that kind of play lightens the shoulders like nothing else.
“Batting first, center fielder, Hayakawa.”
Two outs, but Sugano’s lineup has turned over completely! Can they get a man on?
If the bottom of the sixth ends here, the momentum swings entirely.
The outs were different, sure, but our go-ahead rally in the top of the sixth had started with leadoff man Shirakawa Satoru-senpai. If I could shut down their leadoff hitter, our own morale would climb.
Whap—!
“Strike!”
First-pitch 155 km/h! Hongo Yukihisa!
Still full of life even in the sixth.
I hadn’t exactly accomplished anything special, but maybe it was the experience talking. Right now I felt an absolute need to keep this guy off base.
Whap—!
“Strike!”
A dropping curve! No balls, two strikes!
Looked like he was hunting inside, but the curve found the zone.
Once you own the count, finishing a hitter is not hard from the mound.
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Swinging strikeout! Seisho’s Hongo shuts the door on the bottom of the sixth! A second-year pitcher carrying his seniors’ summer on his back is dealing!
If Sugano High can’t find a breakthrough, their dream of a third straight West Tokyo title is slipping away—but the opposing pitcher is no soft touch.
“Nice pitching.”
“Yes, sir.”
I answered catcher Matsuda-senpai and headed for the bench.
“All right, all right—let’s put up some runs this time!”
“Uoh! I’m gonna crush Naruse’s stuff!”
“Inoue! Settle down!”
“Y-yes, sir!”
“….”
Next inning’s leadoff man, seventh batter Inoue Kotaro, snapped to attention at Coach Maeda’s words and froze. The kid had real power, but his aggressive swings produced just as many strikeouts. Judging purely by the wind-cutting sound of his bat, he should have been competing with Matsuda-senpai for the cleanup spot.
Whap—!
“Strike!”
Whap—!
“Strike!”
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Three straight splitters, three straight whiffs—Naruse punches out the leadoff man!
Sugano’s battery has that hitter’s tendencies dialed in.
“Ahem.”
Inoue’s swing was like a fan cooling a pitcher’s sweat on a sweltering summer day. Not that I had any room to talk—I was hitless myself today.
Crack—!
Grounder toward second—looks routine.
“Out!”
Out at first! Naruse retires the side in order in the top of the seventh.
He gave up the lead, but he’s found his rhythm again.
The seventh ended in a disappointing three-up, three-down. We could pin our hopes on the eighth, which would start with leadoff man Shirakawa-senpai again.
But first…
I had to keep them off the board. I wasn’t the type to puff myself up just because I was the pitcher, yet in a baseball game—especially a Japanese high-school game—the starting pitcher is the main character.
Batting second, shortstop, Kinoshita.
“Hit! Hit! Kinoshita!”
“Please stop him!”
Down by two, Sugano’s bottom of the seventh. Can they flip the script?
Seisho’s bullpen is starting to stir as well. Maejima Genta, who wears number one, started the previous game but could still come in later. That’s how critical this quarterfinal is!
“We need a clean inning here.”
“….”
Gulp.
Seisho manager Nagasawa Haruka swallowed dryly and watched, both hands clenched so tightly the sweat never had a chance to dry.
Crack—!
“Ah!”
A clean opposite-field single in front of the left fielder! Sugano puts the leadoff man on!
“It’s okay…”
“Haa.”
Hongo-kun…
Haruka’s expression darkened in an instant.
Here comes the bunt!
Tuk—!
“Out!”
Even with their third batter up, Sugano laid down a sacrifice.
It’s a two-run deficit, not one—yet they’re determined to scratch across a run this inning?
Exactly. Against Hongo’s overpowering stuff, stringing hits together is a tall order, so they’re putting their faith in the cleanup and five-hole.
“Batting fourth, first baseman, Kokubo.”
Sugano’s cleanup hitter Kokubo Yasusuke, who already took Hongo deep today! Will he become his alma mater’s hope?
Seisho’s battery has to be careful here.
“….”
Seisho’s battery exchanged signs with calm deliberation.
Whap—!
“Ball!”
Whap—!
“Strike!”
Inside, 154 km/h!
Incredible—not just the velocity, but the way he paints the inner half like it’s nothing!
Yukihisa’s left-right command left the broadcast booth stunned. Even a high-school hitter operating at the national elite level had to flinch.
Whap—!
“Ball!”
Whap—!
“Strike!”
Swinging miss! Two-and-two!
That fastball still has serious life.
Kokubo swung through a high heater.
This is the chase pitch!
What will he throw?
“Kokubo!”
“Hongo!”
“Crush it!”
“Shut him down!”
Matsuda Masahiro dropped to a knee. Yukihisa fired with everything he had.
Whap—!
“….”
For a heartbeat the stands fell so silent it raised goosebumps.
“Ball!”
Ball! The bat never moved!
Heh heh heh—that splitter…
The splitter plummeted into the dirt. At the last instant Kokubo showed iron patience.
Full count now!
Hongo looks a little tight himself.
One out, runner on second, full count. Even so, Yukihisa locked onto the mitt and whipped his arm through.
Crack—!
He pulled it—a clean, hard-hit ball!
A pure, ringing crack of the bat. Sugano fans shot their arms skyward; Seisho’s cheering section clapped hands over mouths and heads. Manager Haruka felt her heart drop straight through her chest.
One hop off the fence!
“Waaaaaaaaaah!”
Extra-base territory over the right fielder’s head. The runner from second raced home; the batter-runner tore for second. And Seisho right fielder Sanada Atsushi fired a laser straight to the bag.
To second!
Uh-oh!
For a split second batter-runner Kokubo’s face twisted.
Tag at second!
The throw arrived like a laser. Seisho second baseman Minamino Shintaro caught it standing and waited for Kokubo.
“Out!”
Out! Out at second!
Hahaha…
They close the gap to 3–2, but Sugano’s threat dies right there.
What a throw.
Even after finally scoring the long-awaited run, Sugano’s bench looked grim. Seisho, by contrast, seemed to draw fresh strength.
Batting fifth, Naruse Tomoyuki!
If they’re going to seize the momentum back…!
Pitcher Yukihisa threw his fourth pitch of the at-bat to Naruse.
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Swinging strikeout! Seisho refuses to let them tie it.
Sugano High, kings of West Tokyo for two straight years, has met its toughest opponent yet today.
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Looking strikeout! Naruse’s fastball freezes Kazuma, the man who delivered the go-ahead hit!
Top of the eighth.
We started with the leadoff man and had every reason to hope, yet we went down in order. The opposing pitcher was simply that good. I had to admit it.
“….”
Today had been a little disappointing. Not one run, but two surrendered—and I had leaned heavily on the defense.
But…
“Let’s go, Hongo.”
“Shut ’em down again this inning.”
“Even if they hit it, we’ll clean everything up behind you.”
“Yes.”
Encouraged by my teammates, I climbed the mound. For today, at least, I wanted to set every other thought aside and simply win.
Hongo Yukihisa takes the mound again in the eighth!
Looks like both pitchers are going the distance today.
Ah, this kind of masterpiece pitching duel, a one-run knife-edge battle—the pure essence of high-school baseball, a blood-and-guts war between two teams!
Until yesterday—no, until this morning—high-school baseball fans remembered only Naruse Tomoyuki. Now Hongo Yukihisa is carving his name into their memories for good.
Last summer’s Koshien semifinalist. One of the top high-school pitching prospects for the NPB Draft. Into the shonen-manga final summer of Naruse Tomoyuki, a villain named Hongo Yukihisa had appeared.
Two outs, runner on first! Can they keep the chance alive all the way to the leadoff man? Sugano High!
The runner reached on an error, so if they manufacture something here they can keep pressing.
Bottom of the eighth.
With a runner on thanks to an error by Seisho second baseman Minamino Shintaro, Sugano’s ninth batter stepped in. Mindful of Hongo Yukihisa’s overpowering fastball, he choked up on the bat. He had even been told to lay off anything low because of that splitter.
Whap—!
“Strike!”
Swinging miss! Seisho’s battery jumps ahead in the count!
“Huu…”
Damn it—is this guy even human? And he’s a second-year?
Sugano’s third-year ninth batter cursed under his breath. A high fastball that seemed to rise as it reached his eyes. A splitter that looked like a strike until it vanished. To still be throwing monster stuff like this in the eighth—why did a creature like this have to appear now and block their path?
This was their final summer with ace Naruse. The West Tokyo tournament was only a stepping stone; they had fully intended to reach Koshien and claim the national title.
The expressionless monster of a second-year pitcher attacked again from the mound. That lightning arm swing was still impossible to time.
Whap—!
“Strike three!”
Swinging strikeout! Hongo closes the eighth and the game heads to the ninth!
Ending this one in a single game almost feels like a waste!
Crack—!
He pulled it!
Hm?
A well-struck ball. Standing in the on-deck circle, I lifted my head to follow the flight.
He snags it!
I could see Sanada’s frustration. The right fielder had dived and come up with the ball.
Fielders giving everything to back their ace—pure fighting spirit!
Absolutely desperate.
The opposing right fielder waved off teammates fretting over a possible injury. Even from here it looked like he was hurting.
“Batting sixth, pitcher, Hongo.”
I walked to the plate with two outs.
“The pitcher’s lost a little steam.”
“Yeah.”
Sanada offered the single comment and headed for the bench. Of course that guy never exactly respected an opponent’s skill, so I took the subjective remark with a grain of salt. Honestly, as a hitter I still didn’t measure up to Sanada anyway.
When we put up those three runs I never imagined we would be this dry of insurance afterward.
If Sugano can keep sealing Seisho’s lineup like this, they’ll have hope in the bottom of the ninth!
Exactly—because the bottom of the ninth starts with the leadoff man.
I focused as hard as I could and waited for the pitch. Opposing pitcher Naruse Tomoyuki. From the batter’s box he was the finest pitcher I had faced yet.
Crack—!
First pitch!
“….”
An inside fastball. Sanada hadn’t been entirely wrong—the pitch clearly had less life than earlier.
Tch.
In the end the shortcoming was mine.
Left fielder makes the catch on the warning track! Three outs!
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
“Naruse!”
“Beautiful!”
“Thanks for hanging in! Now leave it to the bats!”
The crowd showers him with unstinting applause. Three runs allowed through nine, thirteen strikeouts. Naruse Tomoyuki has shown the full force of an ace today.
Now it’s up to Sugano’s lineup to answer.
“Hongo—I’m counting on you.”
“Yes, sir!”
When I returned to the bench, Coach Maeda said only those few words. They were exactly what I wanted to hear.
And heading to the mound is—!
“Waaaaaaaaaah!”
Hongo Yukihisa takes the mound even in the bottom of the ninth!
These two pitchers are absolutely insane today.
“Hongo, hang in there!”
“Hongo-senpai!”
“Hongo-kun!”
“….”
I walked to the mound. Voices of every kind poured down from the stands—most of them already hoarse beyond recognition.
Bottom of the ninth. One-run lead.
This is it…
A situation where even if they beat the living hell out of the ball, I still could not allow a single run.
I had always wanted to pitch through the ninth and carry the team to victory. That moment was today.
What was this feeling? Something I had waited for, yet wanted to run from—terrifying, and yet thrilling beyond words.