The Tournament Begins

The tournament began.

Thursday was the drawing day for the Kanto Tournament. Once the 100 teams in the Kanto region had determined their order of play, the opening ceremony would be held on Saturday morning. Three games would take place that Saturday, and all remaining games would be completed within two weeks. The 64 winning teams would then advance to the next round.

"Why are there 64 teams?" Kōshū asked.

"Because 28 teams get byes in the first round. That way, starting from the second round, the number of teams will always be even." Shibasaki was helping Kōshū practice bench presses. "Do a few more sets at this weight."

The barbell had already reached Kōshū's maximum load, leaving him unable to spare attention for a reply. After finishing one set, he shook his head and refused to lower the weight.

"Not bad. You've been improving every day. A few days ago, you looked like you were about to die."

"Didn't Coach Ninomiya say so? Muscles grow because the body repairs damaged muscle tissue. I guess my body's caught up on the repairs these past few days."

"Haha, Coach Ninomiya's interesting, isn't he? Teaching a bunch of middle schoolers the basic theory of exercise."

"He really is... But it's useful. What did you all learn before?"

"Each session starts with one issue, then branches out into all kinds of sports knowledge. Sometimes, if someone gets injured, the next session explains why he got injured. Since the examples are all people around us, it never feels boring."

Voices suddenly rose outside. A chattering crowd drifted closer like a dark cloud. As they passed the training room, Kōshū saw Captain Ito surrounded by a group of people. "Is Captain Ito heading out for the draw?"

"Looks like it. Let's hope he has the same luck as the previous captain."

"Was the previous captain lucky?"

"Yeah. We didn't run into a strong team until the third round in summer. We still lost, but they didn't have an easy time either. They got eliminated in the next round." Looking at Shibasaki's gentle smile, Kōshū always felt that obvious aggression looked strangely contrasting on someone like him.

Once the voices gradually returned, Kōshū and Shibasaki continued with the remaining two sets of bench presses. "Shibasaki-kun, let me spot you."

Shibasaki's bench press weight was about the same as Kōshū's. Though he had joined far earlier than Kōshū, he had never seen much success in building muscle. His family seemed to have prepared plenty of extra meals for him, and after more than a year of adjustment, his appetite had finally begun to improve. But as soon as he overtrained even a little, his weight would plummet. Every day when he arrived at the team, the first thing Coach Fujii asked was what his fasting weight and resting heart rate had been that morning.

Resting heart rate referred to the pulse measured right after waking up, before getting out of bed. If Shibasaki's resting heart rate stayed faster than usual for several days in a row, it meant he had trained too much the day before. Out of concern for his condition, the coaching staff would make different training plans for him.

"I really envy you," Shibasaki suddenly said during a break. They had measured their new pitching speeds yesterday. His own was still around 125, while Kōshū had risen to around 123 after roughly ten days of training.

"Did Coach Ninomiya ever have you get your stomach and intestines checked?" Shibasaki's family seemed to be naturally small and thin. At around 1.72 meters, Shibasaki was not particularly noticeable among pitchers, but standing beside his family, he had already surpassed his genetic limits. That probably explained where all his nutrition was going.

"There's nothing to be done. That's why I envy you so much. I was normal before fifth grade, but it became really obvious when I entered middle school. My younger sister is at that age now too, and her growth has slowed. My family is considering giving her growth hormone."

Kōshū nodded without speaking. As members of the low-velocity group, he and Shibasaki often did strength training together. Over the past few days, he had come to understand some of the hardship Shibasaki endured. He was also beginning to understand why Coach Ninomiya had researched an attribute like spin rate. He probably did not want to give up on Shibasaki. And researching training methods for pitching accuracy was probably meant to help Sato regain confidence in pitching.

A simple analysis of the team's current situation revealed a major problem. The First String's two pitchers, Nozawa and Heishi, were both third-years. By next summer, without considering new recruits, the remaining pitchers were Sato, who could not throw more than sixty pitches, and Shibasaki, whose velocity would not increase. The only one who seemed capable of stepping up was Kōshū himself.

So that's why there's a six-month plan for the fastball.

"Still, there are soft-tossing pitchers too. Coach Ninomiya has considered a lot for me. Once I master pitches with both high and low spin rates, I'll probably need to learn a few more useful changeups."

"Yeah. But compared with certain fielder positions, our team still has relatively few pitchers."

There were already seven people at shortstop, for example. Why not have some outfielders practice pitching?

"Actually, some outfielders willing to become pitchers do receive regular pitching training, just not much. Coach Ninomiya still wants the players to find the positions they're best at early, so they can be valued in high school. After all, every position requires a huge amount of practice. In middle school, players' training time is fixed, and apparently people from the association supervise it."

Wouldn't that make things difficult for the team? Kōshū did not say it aloud, though. He kept it in mind and planned to ask about it during their next discussion.

By the end of training that day, the drawing results were out as well. Captain Ito had drawn a bye for the first round, giving Kinoshita more time to prepare.

"Nice job, Captain."

"Ito-kun, your luck isn't bad."

"Quiet—" Coach Ninomiya said with a stern face. "Victory is earned, not handed over by luck. We may have more preparation time than the other teams, but don't forget that Marugame Little League from East Tokyo also received a bye. In the fourth round, we'll face Marugame Little League after they've had the same rest."

The moment the coach said that, the joy in everyone's hearts sank away.

"Both our teams have been rebuilt this year. They no longer have Tokyo's Number One Iron Catcher, but their strength still cannot be underestimated. Starting this week, we'll add an hour of game footage study every day."

"Yes—"

That day, they added another five laps of running, scattering the restlessness the boys had felt from receiving a bye.

Soon, Saturday arrived—the day of the Kanto Tournament opening ceremony. After Kinoshita Little League assembled, they took a chartered bus to the venue. The Regulars could enter as team representatives, while Hayakawa, Kōshū, and the others sat in the stands beneath the blazing sun, listening drowsily to an old man's speech onstage.

It was so hot, and there were so many people. The packed stands made the air around them even hotter. It felt as though even the warm breath of people talking behind him was blowing against Kōshū's neck.

Unable to bear it any longer, he used buying a drink as an excuse to hide in the air-conditioned entrance hall. He sat down and fell asleep, dreaming that he was trapped in his younger brother's room. All kinds of beautiful-girl magazines and figurines blocked the way. The moment Kōshū passed them, those lifeless objects seemed to smell a living person's presence and abruptly woke up, opening their mouths wide to tear off a piece of his flesh.

In the dream, he wanted to jump out the window again. But just as he reached out to pull the curtain, he noticed an unnatural bulge in it ahead. That was—behind the curtain, at some unknown point, there was a woman. The heavy fabric bulged around her silhouette. She stood quietly there, directly in Kōshū's path. If he had not noticed beforehand, he might have pulled the curtain and come face-to-face with her. The fright jolted Kōshū awake with a howl.

"Ah—" Miyuki was startled by him too. "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Half of Kōshū was still trapped in that nightmare. Hearing the question, he instinctively muttered, "My brother's magazines all turned into things that wanted to eat people, and there was a woman by the window..."

"Hahahaha—"

The laughter cut Kōshū off. He immediately snapped, "Aren't you that glasses brat from the other day? Why are you here too?"

"Are you still half asleep? Today's the opening ceremony. The opening game has already started, and you're still sleeping here. Hahahaha, I'm dying."

The moment Kōshū heard that so much time had passed, he ignored the soreness in his body and hurried back. As soon as he opened the door leading to the venue, scorching air rushed over him. His body, which had finally cooled down, felt as if it had jumped into a frying pan. Hiss— Sweat was already beginning to seep out.

"Man, it's hot."

When he returned to his seat, Hayakawa hurriedly pulled him down. Lang Zhi, also looking anxious beside him, said, "Where the hell did you disappear to? Two groups went out looking for you, and neither could find you."

"Ah—" Two groups? That was a big fuss. The coach definitely knew by now.

"The coach said you have to record all three games today in the Scorebook. He'll check it."

The people around him also chimed in, recounting what had happened. When they mentioned that the coach had gone out looking for him too and still had not returned, Kōshū abruptly covered his face. "That's enough. Stop talking. I already regret it to death."

Shibasaki patted his shoulder and thoughtfully handed him the Scorebook.

The commotion caused by Kōshū lasted only a short while. Before long, the boys were all focused on the game again.

The opening game was between Edogawa Central Little League and Kijima Little League. It had already reached the third inning. Edogawa Central Little League had scored four runs, while Kijima Little League still could not get anything going.

This is going to be a slaughter. Kōshū gradually became absorbed in the game as well, completely failing to notice the movement behind him. Once the coaches heard that Kōshū had returned, they all rushed back too.

So why had neither group managed to find Kōshū? Because the venue had two entrances. Kōshū had said he was going to buy a drink, and there was a vending machine near the closest entrance, so everyone searched around that entrance. They had not expected Kōshū to find it insufficiently cool, circle around, and head for the other entrance. By sheer coincidence, the bench there was behind several decorative potted plants, letting him sleep peacefully for a while.

Of course, after Kōshū left, Miyuki Kazuya thought the place looked nice and took the chance to slack off there too. But his team was sitting not far from that exit, and before long, an angry messenger from his manager dragged him back.

Come to think of it, I only started noticing things I had always overlooked after I began writing novels. For example, how tournament formats should be arranged. Normally, I should probably have looked up how they worked in real life, but I was too lazy, so the following happened.

With 100 teams, just keep dividing by two, right? Why did an odd number show up after only two divisions?

Then I thought, fine, just give four teams byes in the first round. But after calculating it, that was wrong too. Why did I still need to set up bye teams afterward? That was when I finally started thinking seriously.

By the end of the tournament, the number had to be a multiple of two, and all the byes had to be set in the first round. The nearest power of two below 100 was 64...

64 = (100 - x) / 2 + x. In the end, it turned out that 28 teams needed first-round byes...

If I had not been writing a novel, I never would have thought about tournament scheduling before... I guess that counts as an unexpected gain.