No outs. Runner on first base.
And the runner was Kuramochi — a man with extraordinary speed.
Inashiro's players struggled to accept it. From everything they had observed, Kuramochi's full sprint was nearly on par with Carlos at his peak. That meant the person currently standing on first base was, for all practical purposes, their own Carlos wearing a Seido uniform.
The thought was genuinely unsettling.
Nobody on Inashiro's roster understood better than they did just how dangerous Carlos became once he reached base. Having someone with that same ability standing out there now put everyone on edge.
Narumiya squinted at first base more than once, turning the idea of a pickoff over in his mind. But getting rid of Kuramochi was not going to be straightforward. Speed was only part of the problem. Kuramochi's reflexes were unlike anything else on the Seido roster. He could drift further off the bag than almost anyone, and still get back the moment a throw went his way. In his own words, everything was within his range.
As Kominato Ryosuke stepped into the batter's box, he wore his usual relaxed smile. He looked entirely unbothered by the situation.
In Seido's dugout, his teammates had crowded to the front. Some were gripping the railing. Some had risen onto their toes to see better. Voices came in a steady stream.
"Hit it out!"
"You've got this!"
"Wait for your pitch before you swing!"
"It's just Narumiya. Nothing special."
Narumiya felt every word of it. Seido's offense was fierce, but their supporters were no quieter. Even from the stands, they found ways to press on him, to make the atmosphere heavier.
"Do they think I'm the kind of person who folds the moment someone raises their voice at me?"
He looked toward Seido's dugout, eyes hard and unyielding. The louder they shouted, the more it told him they were not as calm as they wanted to appear. He did not need to give it any more attention than that.
Narumiya reset his focus, locked in on the batter, and set his stance.
Then, without warning, his arm snapped forward.
Not a pitch. A throw to first base.
The pickoff came out of nowhere. No wind-up, no telegraphing. Kuramochi, who had been inching toward a steal, felt his body react before his mind caught up. He dove back.
"Thwack!"
Yamaoka Riku caught the ball and looked down. Kuramochi's hand had found the bag a full second before the throw arrived. Just barely.
Yamaoka shook his head internally. Those reflexes were something else.
Narumiya's expression gave away nothing. No frustration, no surprise. It looked exactly as he had expected it to go.
From the dugout, Zhang Han watched him and said quietly to Miyuki, "Our prince has gotten serious."
Miyuki nodded without taking his eyes off the field.
Once Narumiya stepped onto the mound with real stakes in front of him, something changed in him. The playful energy disappeared. What replaced it was something colder and more focused. This was that version of Narumiya now.
The pickoff had done its job even without retiring Kuramochi. It had planted something. Now, when Narumiya truly wound up to pitch, Kuramochi did not go. The psychological residue of that throw speed, combined with knowing how strong Harada's arm was behind the plate, made the calculus too risky. He would wait for the right moment. Going now and getting thrown out would erase everything he had worked for to get on base.
"Thwack!"
"Strike!"
Kominato let the first pitch go without swinging.
Narumiya was finding his rhythm now, and it showed. He looked stronger with every pitch.
Then Coach Kataoka stepped to the front of the dugout and caught Kominato's eye. He gave a clear signal.
Get this run. Whatever it takes.
Kominato gave a small nod. He did not overthink it.
On the second pitch, the moment Narumiya's arm came forward, Kuramochi broke for second base. At the same time, Kominato squared and dropped a bunt.
"Ping!"
The ball rolled to a precise spot, right between the pitcher and the third baseman. Inashiro had only one realistic play. Getting to Kuramochi was already impossible, so they took what they could get and threw to first.
"Thwack!"
"Out!"
Kominato was retired at first. Kuramochi reached second without a throw.
"Safe!"
One out. Runner on second base.
The batting order turned over to Seido's third batter.
Zhang Han stepped toward the box.
Behind the plate, Harada felt the headache building behind his eyes.
Seido. Kataoka. They knew exactly what they were doing.
One out and Kuramochi on second was a loaded situation. With his speed, a clean single would bring him home without any drama. And standing right behind Zhang Han in the order was Yuuki. Both of them had already connected off Narumiya in the previous inning.
Kataoka had clearly read that Inashiro would not intentionally walk either of them. He had constructed this entire sequence with that in mind, sending his best hitters into it without hesitation. It was an open, confident strategy. No tricks, no misdirection. Just a clear statement of belief in his players.
That was the situation Zhang Han was walking into.
He stepped into the batter's box.
From somewhere in the stands, a sound erupted that cut through everything else in the stadium.
"AHHH!"
"ZHANG HAN!!!"
In one corner of the stands, roughly twenty or thirty girls — many of them teenagers, nearly half of them wearing Seido uniforms — had risen to their feet the moment he appeared. The sound they produced together was something well beyond what their numbers should have suggested. The fans nearby winced and covered their ears.
On closer inspection, the girls were holding small banners with text written across them in careful letters.
"Zhang Han Fan Club."
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