Chapter 367 - 367: Moving Up
Zhang Han filed the thought about the rising fastball away for later. After the game, he would find Ono and talk it through properly.
Ono was his regular practice partner, a relationship that had carried over from their Matsukata days. The pairing worked for both of them on practical terms and on longer-term ones: if Zhang Han eventually became the Ace of this team, a catcher who had been developing alongside him from the beginning stood a meaningful chance of advancing with him. The investment in the partnership was mutual.
On the field, Narumiya had not slowed after the first out.
His tendency to struggle with early-game stability had been a known limitation until recently. Matsukata had exploited it directly in the previous season, using a first-inning lead to apply pressure before Narumiya had settled into his rhythm. Even two months ago in the summer tournament, Coach Kunimoto had been cautious enough about it to manage Narumiya's usage carefully.
The two months since that loss had apparently been productive. The Narumiya currently on the mound had opened the game with two runs scored and one out recorded, and nothing about his delivery suggested the instability that had defined his early-inning profile.
He was attacking Kominato Ryosuke with fastballs to the outside corner, the same velocity that had retired Kuramochi now being directed at the edge of the zone repeatedly. Kominato adjusted in the way that Kominato adjusted to everything: he bent at the waist and extended toward the outside pitch, fouling each one off with the deliberate contact management that had made his at-bats the longest in the lineup.
Three consecutive pitches. Three consecutive fouls. Each one from an increasingly awkward position, each one keeping the at-bat alive.
The question of who was tiring whom was genuinely open.
On the fifth pitch, Narumiya changed location. The ball came inside instead of outside, and Kominato, whose body had been angled outward across the previous three pitches, hesitated for a fraction of a second as his read adjusted.
The ball hit the ground in front of Yoshizawa at third base.
The throw to first was routine.
Two outs. Nobody on base.
The Inashiro dugout had taken the initiative in the first inning in both halves, and the Seido supporters in the stands were sitting with the specific uncomfortable feeling of watching their team fall behind without having produced a meaningful offensive moment.
One observer nearby shook his head. "Looks like Seido is just going to absorb this deficit and carry it."
Another fan responded. "The lineup is different today. Look at the batting order."
Zhang Han was batting third.
Coach Kataoka had moved him up from fifth, swapping him with Isashiki Jun. The adjustment had been made without explanation, and nobody had asked for one. The reasoning was visible in the structure: against a pitcher who might limit the total number of productive at-bats in the game, arranging the order to give the most dangerous bats the maximum number of appearances was the logical response.
Kuramochi and Kominato retained their slots because their particular skills were best used at the top. Everything else was organized around creating opportunities.
Two outs and nobody on base was not the situation Coach Kataoka had been building toward, but Zhang Han was now walking to the plate regardless.
The response from the stands was immediate and disproportionate to the game situation.
The section near the front where a visible cluster of female fans had positioned themselves produced a sound that made several Seido players in the dugout exchange looks of mixed feelings. The girls were waving continuously and showing no indication that the two outs and the scoreboard had affected their enthusiasm.
Multiple teammates sat with the observation that this level of support, directed at them personally, would not be unwelcome.
Across the field, Harada watched Zhang Han settle into the box and was aware of the noise filling the stadium around them. Two months ago, the profile on Zhang Han had been strong. The profile had continued developing since then, and Harada was operating with the understanding that whatever the data said was a floor rather than a ceiling.
On the mound, Narumiya was not looking at the stands at all.
The waiting was over. Two months of preparation, two months of carrying the specific weight of the summer loss, and Zhang Han was standing sixty feet away from him. The focus was total and uninterrupted.
He threw the first pitch.
An inside slider, placed where the data suggested Zhang Han's contact was less reliable.
Zhang Han did not move.
The ball crossed the zone on the boundary between strike and ball, the kind of pitch where the umpire's judgment carried the outcome. The call came back as a ball.
Harada turned slightly toward the umpire, absorbing the call without protest. Pitches on that edge went either way depending on the umpire's frame. Arguing accomplished nothing and introduced a worse variable.
He turned back and set his target.
Narumiya was already preparing the second pitch, the peripheral noise of the stadium completely absent from his attention. There was one at-bat in front of him and one batter in it, and everything else was irrelevant until the at-bat was resolved.
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