About two kilometers from Koshien, in an old inn, a boy sat before the same sports newspaper, his brow furrowed.
"Hongo, you're watching Seido's footage again."
"Yeah, Seido will probably be our final opponent." The certainty in his words spread to the teammates around him.
"Haha, lately, so many people have been lumping us together with Seido."
"I never thought we'd really make it to the semifinals." The student was promptly jabbed by the others.
That vicious old man was right behind them. He walked over and glanced down at Seido, which occupied the front page of the sports newspaper. "These publishers don't think much of us, do they?"
He then turned to the pitchers present. "But one thing they said is right. A pitcher lineup cobbled together because it lacks an ace is fundamentally different from a multiple-ace strategy. The useless ones will gradually prove that point over the course of repeated games."
The implication was far too obvious, making the already scowling Hongo even more agitated. But Nitta Manager, having thrown out those words, paid no attention to his pitcher's mood. He turned and headed outside. "What are you still watching for? Get to practice already."
Everyone fell silent and hurried out of the video room.
"Masamune, calm down. Don't you realize the manager is trying to provoke you? You don't need to explain anything to him with words. Prove yourself with your ability."
The catcher, his childhood friend, temporarily soothed Hongo. Yet the blazing fighting spirit in his chest refused to settle. Seido's supposedly cobbled-together pitcher lineup had already revealed its true nature in the previous games. Their true ace was Kōshū, the first-year just like him.
"Oh, right. That Hokkaido pitcher threw a top speed of 152 kilometers per hour in the last game."
But Hongo