Harada watched the white flash streak toward him and stepped out without hesitation, but the ball nearly bored into his chest. He had just started his swing when instinct made him stop.
Ball!
"That bastard! He's not afraid of hitting Miyabi at all!"
"He's only a first-year..." Yet his fighting spirit was no weaker than that of a third-year.
"Just a first-year..." The Inashiro players who hadn't gotten to play could only grit their teeth and watch the needle-point clash.
At that moment, the pitcher and catcher were thinking the same thing. An inside pitch that nearly hit him didn't make him take a single step back. He really intends to fight.
Miyuki set his mitt on the outside. Then we'll make good use of their fighting spirit and earn ourselves some strikes.
Kōshū nodded. Facing these batters was even more exhausting than he had expected. Just raising his fighting spirit to match theirs had brought out another layer of sweat. Don't fade away, my adrenaline!
Hit it, hit it, hit it. All other sounds faded away from Harada. Those were the only words left in his mind.
The fighting spirit born from desperation could sometimes make people surpass themselves, but other times, it only bound them tighter.
Bang— The ball came in extremely low, grazing the outside low corner as it crossed the plate. Harada's muscles were too tense, and he missed the timing instead.
Foul!
"Nice! Get him out!" Behind Kōshū was reassuring encouragement; ahead of him was guidance that set his blood boiling.
"Ha ha ha." He couldn't help laughing. It would have been even better if he could see the other side's disappointed, tearful expressions. The stronger the opponent, the more it awakened his desire to conquer them. Of course, that depended on whether he had