"Nice pitch, Kawakami!"
All the upperclassmen rushed toward the mound, joy spreading among them.
Meanwhile, the players in the Sensen dugout watched the scene unfold with tears in their eyes, frustration written all over their faces.
"Thank you for the match!"
Back at their respective dugouts, the cheer squads were shouting and celebrating, calling out players' names.
Once they packed up, it was time to leave the field—though since Inashiro had a game in the afternoon, Coach Kataoka had everyone stay to watch. Lunch would just have to be eaten while spectating.
The afternoon crowd was still thick with spectators.
Rinichi leaned back in his seat, sucking on a candy, arms crossed.
Man, Mei's popularity really is something. Tons of people are shouting his name…
There were also plenty of chants for Inashiro to make it to Koshien.
Well, it made sense—Inashiro was the last team from West Tokyo to make it to Koshien…
His gaze drifted to the bullpen, where Narumiya Mei threw his first warm-up pitch.
It had solid power behind it.
"That punk's looking sharp today. The sound of the ball hitting the glove is insane," Jun Isashiki commented.
The second pitch flew in.
"So much tail at the end… if he mixes that with breaking balls, good luck hitting it," Haruichi said.
Everyone instinctively glanced toward Rinichi.
If you had to say which pitcher resembled him the most, it would probably be Narumiya Mei.
But only in some respects.
Just then, the managers brought over two boxes of bento lunches.
"Everyone, please come grab your bentos!"
"There's a lot of variety, so pick what you like."
"First come, first served!"
By the time they finished eating, the game was just about to start.
"Now beginning the second semifinal match!"
"Inashiro Industrial vs. Sakurazawa High School!"
The stadium announcer echoed across the field.
Sakurazawa High was one of the top prep schools in the area, but had always been eliminated in the first round. The fact that they'd made it to the semifinals was a miracle no one had expected.
When Sakurazawa's ace, Nagao Akira, threw his butterfly ball, Rinichi's eyes widened slightly.
He hadn't expected anyone besides himself to throw a butterfly ball.
The batter barely managed to hit it, the ball bouncing off the ground into the pitcher's glove, who tossed it to the shortstop—who then gunned it to third. Just like that, one butterfly pitch changed the whole situation and nailed two outs.
Inashiro went down 1-2-3.
Narumiya Mei came on and struck out all three batters with just three pitches each—a complete show of dominance.
It was as if he was trying to highlight the gap in strength.
"Mei really is ruthless," Rinichi said, resting his chin on his hand.
Miyuki: "…" Do you really have the right to call anyone ruthless?
Top of the second inning.
"Batting fourth, catcher, Harada!"
He was clearly popular too—his name was being cheered loudly.
"I'm curious to see how he plans to deal with that butterfly ball," Jun muttered with his usual grim face.
"Tetsuya's wide-angle batting style doesn't leave any blind spots," Yūki said.
"The more eager you are to break through the butterfly ball, the more it plays into Sakurazawa's hands. That kind of impatience can rattle a team and lead to errors. I bet the teams Sakurazawa's beaten so far didn't perform at their best because of it," Miyuki added.
Rinichi shifted his eyes from Miyuki back to the mound.
He didn't like butterfly balls much—they were genuinely hard to hit. That's exactly why he learned how to throw them himself.
The second pitch came—a butterfly ball again.
Harada hit it, but the erratic movement made the hit weak. The ball went straight to first—out.
Fifth batter, Narumiya Mei—three big swings, all misses.
Three-pitch strikeout.
"As expected, that guy's a complete idiot," Rinichi said flatly.
But that butterfly-ball pitcher from Sakurazawa High—he was impressively calm and composed.
Inashiro's heart-of-the-lineup was completely shut down.
A sharp pitch landed squarely in the glove.
He's mad, Rinichi thought.
"Seriously, Narumiya's letting his emotions get the better of him," Isashiki grumbled.
Miyuki slowly turned to look at Rinichi.
He really hated that kind of look.
"…Nothing," Miyuki replied, turning his gaze away.
Top of the 3rd. Inashiro started to get a read on Nagao Akira's butterfly pitch, but still couldn't score.
Just as Sakurazawa High began to relax a little, Narumiya Mei's dominant pitching completely wiped the smiles off their faces.
Dreams don't come true that easily.
It's because dreams are so difficult to reach that we call them "dreams" in the first place.
And to someone who's been made a target of those dreams—it's not even on the same level.
If your batting lineup isn't working, you can't score. If you manage to defend one inning and think everything's fine—you're just being smug.
It was only a matter of time before Inashiro figured out that butterfly ball.
Rinichi was starting to hate the feeling he got from Sakurazawa.
It reminded him of that time against Akikawa, when they laid down bunts just for show, pretending they couldn't make contact.
Baseball isn't a game you win by relying on empty hopes.
At least, that's what Rinichi believed.
By the fourth inning, Inashiro had completely solved the butterfly pitch, while Sakurazawa's defense fell apart.
Sakurazawa was shaken.
Why? Because Narumiya kept applying pressure from the mound, making them feel like, "We'll never score on this guy," or "One run and we're done for."
The upperclassmen all wore serious faces.
They understood that feeling. In training, whenever Rinichi stood on the mound and they took turns batting, they felt the same kind of pressure.
It made them realize just how much pressure those teams that got completely shut down by Rinichi must've been under.
Applying mental pressure with stable pitching, while elevating his team's offensive rhythm—just one player's presence made the entire team stronger.
That's what it meant to be a true ace. A pillar that supports the entire team—unshakable as a mountain.
In that sense, Narumiya Mei and Rinichi were exactly the same.
Inashiro scored 8 runs in the fourth and 3 more in the fifth—11 runs in total—ending the game early with an 11–0 score.
"A win here means a ticket to Koshien. It's the perfect stage for settling the score from last year," Isashiki said.
Narumiya paused mid-step, glancing toward the stands where Rinichi was sitting. With a smile, he looked away and followed his teammates.
Rinichi sat in silence, not a trace of emotion on his face.
The game was over, and they should've been leaving—but they waited a bit longer since Furuya and Haruichi had to use the bathroom.
Rinichi leaned on his hand, staring out the window, lost in thought.
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