Diamond No Ace: The Strongest Hitter

Chapter 225: The Yakushi Battle (8)

The game had entered the bottom of the seventh inning, with Seidou leading 11-8.

It was Seidou's turn to attack. With one out, Miyuki stood on first base, and the batter stepping up was the pinch hitter, Haruichi.

"A storm of seven consecutive hits!"

"Nice hits, one after another!"

"Yes!" The team manager, Sachiko, was already waving her fists excitedly.

Haruno clung tightly to senior manager Takako. When Seidou had been trailing earlier, she and the other managers had been extremely anxious.

Meanwhile, Fumino, though often a bit scatterbrained about her own affairs, had a knack for seeing things clearly when it came to others.

In Seidou's dugout and cheering section, the atmosphere was electric. The batting order had cycled through more than once in this inning alone. With the additional pauses in play, it felt like an extended period of pure joy for Seidou's supporters.

"Seidou's batting lineup is insanely strong!"

"The explosiveness is unbelievable!"

"Except for the pitcher, every hitter from first to eighth can score—this is an absolute powerhouse lineup!"

"It wasn't until this outburst that people truly realized just how terrifying Seidou's batting order is."

In the stands, the spectators who had initially underestimated Seidou's offensive power started to grasp the reality.

They had always known that Seidou had a strong lineup, but the previous opponents were too weak. Other top teams also racked up high scores, so even if Seidou scored a bit more, it didn't necessarily seem extraordinary.

However, against a pitcher of Sanada's caliber, the gap in strength became glaringly obvious.

"Now it's a three-run lead—this is exactly the insurance run Tanba needed. It's crazy to think that the score difference is the same as what was predicted during that explosive moment in the original story," said Oomae from Ichidaisan.

"I can't believe how much Seidou's batting lineup has evolved in just a few short months since the spring tournament," he added.

"Especially Sendo—his progress has been nothing short of phenomenal. He no longer looks like someone merely relying on natural talent to hit."

"His growth has also made Seidou's already formidable lineup even more seamless. Aside from the ninth batter, every single hitter is a serious threat."

"And when furuya is pitching, even the ninth batter becomes a legitimate offensive weapon."

"Yeah," Manaka replied simply.

Oomae's assessment was relative—against elite pitchers like Manaka, Tachi, or Narumiya Mei, Seidou's lineup wouldn't look quite as dominant.

Otherwise, they wouldn't just be a powerhouse team; they'd be an all-star lineup made up of the best fourth hitters from across the country.

"Damn it! The ones who should be playing against Seidou should have been us!" Hirakawa muttered, frustration evident in his voice.

This was the reality for top baseball programs. For three years, their entire lives revolved around baseball, with hardly any breaks.

Now, having time off, they didn't even know what to do. They were so immersed in the sport that they felt disconnected from normal life.

"Just how much do we love baseball, huh?" Oomae laughed.

"By the way, you guys are in for a rough three years ahead."

"Your old rival Sendo, the power pitcher furuya, and now there's this new guy, Raichi Todoroki."

"What's going to happen to West Tokyo in the coming years?"

"Monsters keep emerging, and they're all in our region." Oomae glanced at his underclassmen.

One of them, despite not being a starting player in the summer, was still a first-year on the first-string team. Come autumn, he was expected to be a key part of the batting lineup.

"If Sendo isn't pitching, I won't lose to any other pitcher," the first-year, Sasaki, declared.

"Haha, that's the spirit!" Hirakawa patted his shoulder.

"But you should be aiming to surpass Sendo too!"

"That's impossible. I knew from the moment I first saw him."

"Man, that's not very endearing," Hirakawa sighed.

"It's called self-awareness."

"Alright, Hirakawa, you already know how he gets whenever Sendo's name comes up," Oomae interrupted before Hirakawa could continue.

Sasaki, as Sendo's very first friend back in their "wildcat" days, was acutely aware of the gap between them.

He had long since accepted reality—natural talent doesn't just determine your floor; it also sets your ceiling.

Pushing past your limits isn't always a good thing. In some cases, it leads to nothing but self-destruction.

Just like how a human body becomes fragile when its body fat drops below 3%, reaching the point where one's very life is at risk.

Breaking your limits sounds noble, but attempting to surpass the boundaries of your physical endurance? That's just asking for trouble.

Seidou's Dugout

"At first, it was just the occasional hittable pitch…"

"The reason he's never been a starting pitcher is clear—he simply can't sustain his performance for long." Chris summarized.

"And the fatigue is already showing. His pitches have lost some of their force. We should be able to score a few more runs," Miyuki added.

Back to the Game

"Phew, they really are strong, huh?" Sanada exhaled, still wearing a faint smile.

"I might cause more trouble for everyone moving forward, so I hope you'll forgive me."

Even in this situation, Sanada remained unfazed.

He had an incredibly strong mental game, but in a different way compared to Sendo and You Shunshin.

Those two thrived in battles against strong opponents, feeling even more exhilarated when challenged. Sanada, on the other hand, was simply built with nerves of steel.

Having a strong heart meant being able to endure pressure—not being immune to it. You Shunshin and Sendo enjoyed the thrill of facing tough opponents, while Sanada simply handled stress exceptionally well.

The moment Sanada spoke, the entire Yakushi bench reacted.

"It's totally fine, Sanada-senpai! Please, cause me as much trouble as you want!" Raichi said naturally.

"You're the last person I want to hear that from."

"Huh? Why?!" Raichi, completely unaware of his own reputation, looked utterly dejected.

Earlier in the game, there had been outright comical errors. How many infielders fumbled their throws so badly that they outright dropped the ball?

Akikawa's mistakes were due to nerves. Raichi? He was just plain bad at it.

"So don't drag me down, Raichi!"

"Shut up, old man!"

Seeing Yakushi's unwavering fighting spirit, Sendo couldn't help but admire them.

"This team still has plenty of fire left in them. We can't let our guard down."

"Yeah, they're really tough to deal with," Miyuki agreed.

As Haruichi stepped up to the batter's box, he could feel Sanada's determination and made a decision.

"Hey, Haruichi!" Sendo called from behind.

Haruichi turned back.

"Just trust your batting instincts," Sendo said with a grin, flashing a signal.

This was something they had discussed earlier when Haruichi had returned from his previous pinch-hit appearance.

The signal meant that the first pitch was highly likely to be a rising fastball. If he could make contact, he should go for it.

Seeing the sign, Haruichi fell into thought.

"With your batting sense, you can probably make contact. You already saw that rising fastball in your last at-bat, right?"

"They still have two more innings to hit back. What choice will you make now?"

"I can't wait to see." Sendo couldn't hide his grin, looking genuinely excited.

"Hey, what's that signal about?" Miyuki leaned in curiously.

After a brief explanation, both of them smirked mischievously.

Coach Kataoka glanced over skeptically, while Ota, having shed his previous nervousness, now watched with interest. Chris, ever composed, looked at his two juniors with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Do your best, Shunpei!" The Yakushi bench erupted in cheers, rallying behind their batter.

"Let him hit it!" came the voice of catcher Watanabe.

"One out! One out!" called out the right fielder.

"Go for it!"

"Sanada!"

The stadium echoed with cheers in both Japanese and oddly accented English.

"Haruichi!"

"Don't lose!"

"Let's settle this!"

As the pitch was thrown, both pitcher and batter focused with the same thought.

Ping!

The ball bounced off the infield, hitting the third baseman's glove.

"Yes! Eight straight hits!"

"He made contact with that rising fastball!"

"Now we've got runners on first and second! Our offense isn't stopping yet!"

Despite the setback, Yakushi remained undeterred, continuing to fire each other up. The intensity on both sides was still burning strong.

"One-two, nice hit! Hahahaha!" The cheer squad finished their chant, followed by a chorus of bright, ringing laughter.

Ping!

Right after Haruichi, Tanba stepped up to the plate.

And once again, Sanada chose to throw a rising fastball on the first pitch.

"Shortstop!"

Pop!

Pop!

"Yes!" Even Sanada, despite his usual composure, couldn't help but roar.

"A double play!"

"Hell yeah!"

"Beautiful pitching, Sanada-senpai!"

"Shirasu is up next!"

"Tanba, we're still up by three. It's all on you now!"

Hearing those words from the coach, Tanba smiled.

"That last pitch wasn't bad at all, you idiot." Jun-san and the other third-years grinned. It was the kind of smile you show to a teammate.

"Yeah, that was pretty ace-like."

"Enjoy your long-awaited return to the mound." Pudding-senpai, who was surprisingly talkative today, added.

"Make sure to let out a roar again, haha!"

"Say something already!" Even Shirasu couldn't help but retort, making Tanba laugh.

For Tanba, this was his first time back on the mound since recovering from his injury. He had only resumed training a few days ago, and his control issues were expected.

Actual game practice had only started two days prior, so no one was placing too many expectations on him.

Looking back at the finals against Inashiro, his fastball had occasionally drifted into the strike zone, but for the most part, his control had already recovered quite well.

After all, he had barely over a week of rehabilitation training under his belt.

"A three-run gap isn't impossible to overcome."

"The audience loves seeing these dramatic comebacks and reversals, right?"

"The goal is simple—get runners on base and make sure Raichi gets his at-bat."

"You all think the same thing, don't you? If Raichi gets his turn, we'll find a way to turn this game around."

Raizou knew this was the moment of truth.

Even though it was already the eighth inning, there was still a chance that Raichi could be intentionally walked if no runners were on base.

However, if Yakushi managed to put runners on, Seidou's aggressive catcher would be far less likely to issue a walk.

And if Raichi got a clean hit—whether a deep shot or a home run—he could shatter the fragile psyche of Seidou's starting pitcher, whose mental toughness had always been questioned and who had even been rumored to have injury issues.

If Tanba's control wavered again, Yakushi could rack up as many runs as they wanted in a single inning.

High school baseball was ruthless like that.

A crumbling ace meant even the best defensive formations wouldn't hold. No matter how much ground the fielders covered, they couldn't protect the entire field.

A slugfest was Yakushi's only path to victory.

In a battle between two teams—one with a breaking-down pitcher and the other with a talented but slightly inconsistent one—the disparity in aces could make all the difference.

Even with a weaker batting lineup, Yakushi could gain the upper hand simply because of the gap in pitching.

And the one person who could make that happen was Raichi.

Of course, even for Raichi, breaking a pitcher mentally wasn't as simple as just hitting the ball.

It had to be an absolutely crushing hit, something that would shake the very foundation of the opposing pitcher.

What Yakushi didn't know, however, was just how much Tanba had endured in the past few days.

If this were a few days ago, and Sanada were the one standing on the mound instead of Tanba, Sendo's presence wouldn't have been as intimidating as Raichi or Shunpei.

But for Tanba, out of the three biggest threats, the most terrifying batter was Sendo.

And with Sendo's visible progress today, no one could predict what Sanada might be thinking right now.

...

"Seidou High School has made a player substitution and defensive adjustment:"

"Batting eighth, Kominato Haruichi replaces Shirasu."

"Batting eighth in right field, Shirasu."

"Isashiki moves to left field."

...

Yakushi's leadoff batter for the eighth was their seventh batter. While the eighth and ninth batters were tough to deal with, this was their first time facing a fired-up Tanba, meaning Seidou still held the advantage.

Tanba struck out the seventh batter on three pitches.

The eighth batter made excellent contact, but Haruichi barely managed to snag the ball, securing the second out.

That made it two outs.

Now, Yakushi's ninth batter, stepped up to the plate.

And because Raichi would bat next, he stood up from the bench and began preparing in the on-deck circle.

As Raichi walked toward the preparation area, his towering figure drew the eyes of many Seidou players.

Even Tanba started sweating.

Just because he had faced powerful batters before didn't mean he was immune to the fear they instilled.

"One more out here, and we won't have to deal with Raichi yet."

Sensing Tanba's nerves, Miyuki stretched his arms wide, silently reassuring his pitcher. No matter how Tanba interpreted it, the message was clear—it was meant to calm him down.

For a team like Seidou, which rarely resorted to intentional walks, it was far better to face Raichi as the leadoff batter next inning than with runners on base this inning.

If Raichi led off next inning, the only way for him to score would be via a solo home run.

But with runners on base now, a single swing could instantly erase Seidou's lead.

The real danger wasn't Tanba's mentality anymore—it was his control.

By the summer of his third year, Tanba had developed the mental resilience needed for high-pressure situations.

After Raichi's earlier home run, Sendo had given Miyuki some key insights—Raichi, like Sawamura, was the type who didn't overthink things.

And that, in itself, made Miyuki uneasy.

He had heard of this kind of primal, instinct-driven batting style before.

Hitters who relied purely on instinct were the hardest to predict.

Unless the pitcher completely overpowered them with sheer ability, there was no way to guess what pitch they would swing at.

Now, the game had truly reached its most critical moment.

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