Source
https://kakuyomu.jp/works/16818093087122434729/episodes/16818792435494977766
The last pitch was Itakura’s soul ball.
Probably because he was protecting his leg, it didn’t have the same power as the previous two games, and his control was also affected.
But he still held on.
“.. out! Game over!”
The referee’s call rang out. But I didn’t feel any sense of victory or satisfaction.
“…Damn it! It was just one point!”
The last batter slammed his bat on the ground, sending a slight vibration through it.
I quietly looked away and headed toward the mound.
“Itakura. Let me help you.”
“Sorry, Hayami.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s annoying.”
＊＊＊
Itakura and I headed to the tournament headquarters instead of the infirmary. That’s where they usually are during events like this.
“Does it hurt when I touch it?”
“…N-n-n-no.”
Itakura sat on a folding chair while his ankle was examined. He’s nervous even when talking to the doctor.
After a while of such questioning,
“It’s a sprain… It’s not severe, but it would be wise not to compete today or tomorrow.”
“But…”
“No, you can’t take a sprain lightly. If you push yourself, there’s a chance it could flare up again after it heals.”
I thought, “I already said that,” but I was wondering what to do about the next match.
“Hey, Ren. What are you doing here?
…I hope it’s not an injury?”
“Oh, it’s Aota.”
Just then, Aota and the rest of the Red Team walked over.
“No, it’s not me. It’s Itakura.”
“Really? That’s tough.”
Aota’s face, narrowed in pain, showed no sympathy or complacency.
Was that a sign of confidence?
“Well, now that it’s come to this, there’s nothing we can do. We’ll just have to do our best.”
“I see… Well, let’s just do our best, Ren.”
“Yeah.”
There was no substitute pitcher anyway, so winning was probably impossible.
Until the moment the loss was decided, he had no intention of slacking off.
“Hayami, how about you pitch?”
“Huh!?”
What was he talking about? He reflexively looked at Itakura.
“That throw to third base earlier. If you can do that, your fastball must be pretty quick. And I’ve been thinking… you’re not a complete beginner, are you?”
“G-gulp.”
“I knew it. The way you stay calm when you get on base, and your batting form… a complete beginner couldn’t do that. So? Which club were you in?”
Well, there’s no need to hide it anymore. I just didn’t want to be relied on because I was called an experienced player.
“I wasn’t in a club, and I’ve never played in a game. My father loved baseball, so he taught me the basics on idle weekends.”
After that, I just played around with Sota and the others after practice sometimes.
“Various things… ? So, you can do that much just from that?”
“My father was a high school baseball player. He even played in the Koshien Tournament.”
“Wow, I see. So your athletic ability comes from your father.”
“… Well, it’s not that big of a deal.”
We’re not related by blood, you know. It’s nice to be praised, but I feel a bit complicated inside.
It’s not that I was interested in baseball like my father, I just couldn’t refuse when I was asked to play.
“All right, then it’s settled. Wait a moment… Hello, is this Igawa? I need you to come here right away.”
Sigh, even though it’s an emergency, why did it come to this?
“…Huh, really?”
And so, the stage shifts to the mound of the final game.
Unlike the mitt, the glove is a little lighter.
The tips of my fingers, which I’ve coated with rosin borrowed from Itakura, feel strange and squeaky.
“It’s nostalgic, isn’t it? We used to play a lot during club practice breaks. Back then, you were the pitcher, right, Ren?”
Number one, pitcher. Hasegawa Aota. In baseball, the number that comes up most often at bat.
So Aota must be the best.
“Phew, okay, here I go!”
There’s no point in hesitating. I cleared my head and wound up to throw.
That said, I had already decided what my first pitch would be.
“Hmm, that form…”
“Interesting pitching style. I didn’t know there was such a pitcher hiding in the shadow of the Green Team’s ace.”
A trajectory parallel to the ground, commonly known as a sidearm throw.
It’s a unique form I developed in elementary school through my father’s advice and playing with Aota and the others.
I’m not particularly fast with my fastball, and while I can throw breaking balls, I couldn’t possibly think of throwing them in this high-stakes situation.
So, inevitably, the ball released from my sharply swung fingertips.
“What!? That’s slow!”
Yeah, Auta. You’d be ready to swing from the first pitch, wouldn’t you?
“A changeup!? From the first pitch!?”
“No doubt about it, that pitcher has some serious skills.”
Shut up, you baseball old men.
Actually, don’t call it a changeup. It doesn’t drop.
“Damn it!!”
A dull sound rang out.
The ball lost its momentum and rolled slowly while spinning.
“Well, that’s it. I won the first at-bat.”
The balls I can throw are a 110-plus-kilometer fastball and this ball. It’s a slow ball, similar to a circle changeup.
I have to strike out the remaining eight batters.
“…I’m not confident, but it’s a promise.”
Even if I lose, there are excuses. But no one wants to lose.
So, I’m going all out to defeat Aota.
That was my plan.
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