Diamond no Ace: My Sharingan

Bottom of the third inning. Seido High School's baseball team was at bat.

One out, runner on first.

The score was 3–1, with Seido holding a two-run lead.

Judging by the scoreboard alone, Seido already seemed to have a solid advantage.

But if one considered the flow of the game, that edge felt even greater than the score suggested.

Zhou Hao had just blasted a home run, and Yuki Tetsuya followed by driving the very next pitch into the field.

Although Seido's two heart-of-the-order sluggers hadn't connected their hits in direct succession,

their back-to-back offensive blows still placed enormous pressure on Inashiro Industrial.

Especially for their current pitcher, Arata, the damage to his morale was tremendous.

Everyone in the stadium held their breath.

Inashiro was now walking a tightrope, and one more blow might send them plunging straight into the abyss.

A single misstep—

and everything would collapse.

That was an outcome the Inashiro players absolutely refused to accept.

So they had no choice but to fight with everything they had.

Bat raised high, Seido's fifth batter, Isashiki Jun, stepped into the batter's box with no intention of showing mercy.

"Already on the verge of collapse? Then let me be the one to finish you off!"

Arata, Inashiro's reliever, had performed admirably throughout the game.

Even from the opposing dugout, Seido's players had to acknowledge that.

But precisely because of that, their determination to defeat him only burned even hotter.

He had to be beaten—no matter what.

Although Seido currently held the lead, Zhou Hao wasn't on the mound, which meant the result of the game still carried plenty of uncertainty.

Once the other two pitchers rotated in, no one could predict what might happen.

From Seido's perspective, the only option was to score as many runs as possible.

They had to widen the gap.

Only a large enough lead would give them enough room to survive whatever came next.

A mere two-run advantage was nowhere near enough.

Having clearly understood the situation, Isashiki was determined to drive the ball no matter what.

That thought consumed every fiber of his being.

He raised his bat high.

It was a silent but unmistakable declaration of war.

Crouching behind the plate, Harada felt his heart leap.

As Inashiro's starting catcher, Harada possessed first-rate game sense.

He understood exactly what Isashiki was thinking.

And to be honest, it annoyed him.

Seido's batters were acting as if getting a hit was only natural.

As if reaching base was their right.

Since when had baseball ever worked that way?

Harada set his mitt firmly in one spot, without the slightest hesitation.

On the mound, Arata—who had just been shaken moments ago—saw that target, and a spark returned to his lifeless eyes.

Middle-away.

Their catcher wanted him to face the batter head-on?

"You still believe in me?"

Harada never wavered.

"Getting hit by those two monsters is normal. Don't let it get to you. Even Narumiya Mei might have suffered the same result. Trust your stuff and keep pitching."

Those words of trust hit Arata like a shot of adrenaline.

His presence instantly sharpened again.

Even Seido's players were stunned.

Harada's reputation came mostly from his bat—

could a catcher really steady a pitcher like this?

The players on Seido's bench were skeptical.

Their instincts told them otherwise.

"Maybe it's not the catcher. Maybe that gloomy kid just has a mood that flips easily."

Sure enough, Arata looked exactly like the type to get fired up the moment someone provoked him.

If that was the case, then his sudden resurgence made perfect sense.

"Exactly. He's just wired that way. No wonder a few encouraging words got him going."

Chris and the others had judged it correctly.

Arata's emotions swung wildly with the slightest push.

And once he got fired up,

he became a nightmare to deal with.

Today, he had already outpitched the Aces of both Ichidai Sanko and Teito.

In terms of pure ability, he was on their level.

But in this game, his performance had gone far beyond that.

High school players could sometimes ride a hot streak like that—

and suddenly perform at 120 percent.

The game resumed.

Seeing a pitch in the middle-away part of the zone, Isashiki swung without hesitation.

A good batter would never let a belt-high pitch over the plate go by.

That was instinct.

Even if it was bait, a quick swing might still punch it into fair territory.

And if he could just make contact, the ball might float into the outfield.

Although Isashiki wasn't a pure power hitter, he still had plenty of strength.

He connected.

And the ball shot off the bat.

Crack!

The Seido dugout and the fans in the stands immediately stirred, ready to celebrate another hit.

They loved seeing Seido string together blow after blow until their opponents broke.

But the result completely defied their expectations.

The ball slammed into the infield dirt and took a sharp hop straight toward Shirakawa.

"An infield hop?"

The joy on Seido's faces froze instantly.

It was terrifying.

The outcome couldn't have been further from what they had imagined.

Before they could even react, Shirakawa fired the ball to second base.

But there was something even more shocking—

no one had been covering the bag.

It was madness.

The Inashiro players looked as if they had stopped caring about the consequences altogether.

And just as everyone was thinking that, they saw something even more unbelievable.

A figure suddenly appeared at the previously uncovered second base.

It was Inashiro Industrial's second baseman.

He had actually made it back in time to cover the bag?

There had been no signal between them.

It was pure instinct.

The kind of coordination that could only come from countless repetitions and complete trust.

No one knew how many times they must have practiced this in private to achieve such seamless teamwork.

Before anyone could fully understand what had happened, the second baseman caught the ball, stepped on the bag, and immediately threw to first.

Smack!

"Out!"

Smack!

"Out!!"

Double play!

Three outs.

Offense and defense switched.

Just when everyone thought Inashiro Industrial was on the verge of collapse,

they answered with actions instead of words.

With flawless teamwork, they eliminated both Yuki and Isashiki Jun in succession.

In Inashiro Industrial's dugout, Coach Kunimoto gently rolled his neck, his bones cracking softly.

"Our team isn't just about the pitcher."

Before Seido rose to prominence, Inashiro Industrial had been the undisputed ruler of West Tokyo.

Back then, neither Ichidai Sanko nor Seido could compare to them.

The prestige Inashiro Industrial had accumulated over more than a decade had never been an accident.

They had become the kings of West Tokyo.

And that title had not been built on empty praise.

It had been forged one game at a time, one generation after another.

Their brilliant results came from disciplined training and relentless effort from every class of players.

Their defense might not have been the very best in the country,

but it absolutely ranked among the elite.

That was why Inashiro Industrial had remained strong for so many years.

The shock of the double play echoed through the stadium.

The players in Seido's dugout stood frozen for a while before finally forcing themselves to accept what had happened.

And honestly, they couldn't be blamed.

If Narumiya Mei had been the one on the mound, Seido's players would not have been nearly as shocked.

After all, they had already experienced firsthand just how terrifying the Tokyo Prince could be.

Otherwise, Seido would not have lost to Inashiro Industrial in last year's autumn tournament.

But now, the pitcher on the mound was only a substitute.

How could Seido's players accept being suppressed by a bench player like this?

After all, they had already crushed the Aces of powerhouse schools before.

Still, no matter how surprised they were,

the game had to continue.

Top of the fourth inning.

Inashiro Industrial came to bat.

Seido changed pitchers.

Coach Kataoka adjusted his strategy on the spot and sent in second-year pitcher Kawakami.

As Kawakami stepped onto the mound, players from both teams were stunned.

Not a single Inashiro player had expected it.

Even Seido's own players were caught off guard.

Why Kawakami?

Among the three pitchers beneath Zhou Hao, no matter how one ranked them, Kawakami should have been the second choice at best.

And yet Coach Kataoka had made exactly that decision.

After a quick exchange in the dugout, Inashiro's players quickly decided that this was their chance.

What exactly was Seido thinking?

They didn't know.

And they didn't care.

All they needed to think about was how to get hits and score runs off this pitcher.

The first batter to step into the box was Inashiro's number two hitter, Shirakawa.

"They're looking down on us by sending this guy out. Fine then—don't blame us if he can't survive our lineup—"

From the moment he stepped into the batter's box, Shirakawa hadn't stopped muttering.

But even as he talked, his eyes never left the pitcher.

A dangerous glint flashed within them.

On the mound, Kawakami was visibly tense.

He had no idea why Coach Kataoka had suddenly changed the plan.

But as an important player for Seido—the kingly Seido High School Baseball Team—and as the pitcher now standing on the mound,

he had no right to back down.

Gritting his teeth, Kawakami threw the pitch.

His leg lift and stride looked ordinary enough,

but his delivery was completely different from that of a standard pitcher.

He was a sidearm pitcher.

The baseball whipped out from the side of his body.

Although his velocity wasn't overwhelming, that unusual release was exactly what earned him a place in Seido's pitching staff.

The ball leaving his hand could be extremely difficult to deal with.

But facing such a troublesome pitch, Shirakawa in the batter's box didn't care in the slightest.

As the baseball approached, his eyes burned with the determination to crush it.

"Bring it!"

The pitch came.

And Shirakawa swung without hesitation.

Crack!

Back in Seido's dugout, the players stared in disbelief.

To them, Kawakami's pitching might not have been elite,

but it was far from weak.

Yet Inashiro's second batter had swatted it away as if it were nothing.

The whole sequence looked effortless.

Almost casual.

As if Shirakawa could play with Kawakami whenever he wanted.

Was the gap between them really that huge?

Before Seido's players could even process what had happened, the ball had already landed.

Smack!

It hit the ground and bounced forward.

Seido's fielders didn't even have time to react.

Shirakawa had targeted the exact gap in their defense—

a place they had no chance of cutting off.

"It got through!"

Amid the roaring cheers of Inashiro's supporters,

Shirakawa sprinted to first base in one breath.

"Safe!"

No outs.

Runner on first.

Seido had just changed pitchers,

and the momentum of the game instantly flipped.

In the stands, Seido's supporters couldn't help but break out in cold sweat for their team.

Back in Inashiro's dugout, Coach Kunimoto rolled his neck again, the joints cracking audibly.

"A bullpen game has its weaknesses too!"