Game Atmosphere

Game Atmosphere

Edogawa Central Little League's pitcher threw another slider near the batter's knees for a ball, baiting him into swinging. He followed it with a high inside fastball, striking out Marugame Little League's cleanup hitter swinging and ending the top of the third.

During the break, Kōshū asked about Edogawa Central Little League.

"That Little League team is strong. They're probably second only to Marugame Little League in East Tokyo. I heard scouts from all the top high schools go to watch them every year."

"What about us?"

"To avoid disrupting practice, we usually arrange for them to come at different times."

"No wonder I hadn't seen any."

"But what scouts watch most is games. Only real competition shows true ability. The reason Coach Ninomiya lets pitchers take part in live-game practice is because if you can't throw a pitch in a real game, it doesn't matter how well you throw it in the bullpen," Hayakawa added.

"That's harsh..." Kōshū said as he sorted through the booklets in his hands.

As everyone talked, the fourth inning began.

Kijima's ace stood on the pitcher's mound looking somewhat frail. Right from the start, he gave up two consecutive hits, then threw two straight balls to the third batter.

"This is bad. The pitcher has shaken off the catcher's calls several times in a row." Hayakawa frowned.

"After getting hit repeatedly, he's probably lost confidence in his pitches," Shibasaki said, clearly relating to the feeling.

The catcher called time to buy the pitcher a moment. He kept glancing at the runner on first, seemingly distracted, before throwing another pitch.

"Another ball."

"The catcher seems to have set his glove at the outside low corner. The last two high pitches were both hit, so now we'll see whether the pitcher can throw it down to the low position."

The pitcher wiped the sweat from his forehead and threw. This time, he got it down—but crack—

The batter made contact, but not cleanly. The ball landed in front of the shortstop in the infield, giving them a chance at a double play. But the ball seemed too hot to handle. The shortstop dropped it, then picked it back up, but the runner from first had already slid safely into second. The shortstop quickly adjusted to throw to first, but it was too late there as well.

A wave of uproar swept through the stadium. At the center of the noise, the pitcher glanced at the bases loaded behind him, then swiftly turned to face home plate. He kicked up the dirt on the mound before smoothing it back down, steadying himself.

"No outs, bases loaded."

It would not have been surprising to give up several runs in this situation. The next batter stepped in and immediately squared to bunt.

"Ah, this kind of situation is the worst," Kōshū muttered.

Hayakawa explained beside him, "Batters can show a real bunt or a fake bunt. In a situation like this, it's a real bunt to bring in runs, so the pitcher needs to have the nerve to throw strikes and be ready to charge forward. Once you join live-game practice, there'll be pitcher fielding drills too."

Sure enough, the next pitch was bunted. Everyone in the infield moved, and the catcher shouted across the field. The ball was thrown to second, then sent to first. During that time, the runners from third and second both scored. Kijima Little League got two outs, but after one bunt, every base was cleared. The pitcher seemed to regain some of his form, and the next batter soon popped up to the infield for the final out.

Then it was Edogawa Central Little League's turn to defend. Kijima Little League still had three innings left to bat, but the gap in strength was simply too great. They had all but lost already.

The game developed just as Kōshū had expected. In the latter half, Kijima made error after error, and the anxiety on the field could be felt even from the stands.

If I were in a game where we were already far behind, what would I do?

"If I were the coach, I might replace the entire infield now." After thinking for a moment, Kōshū answered Hayakawa's surprised question. "The shortstop has made two errors, and the second baseman has made one coordination error. It looks like only two of the four infielders have made mistakes, but the whole infield has already sunk into a mire of anxiety. They all need to be replaced to salvage the atmosphere on the field."

Hayakawa was surprised by Kōshū's boldness, but after considering it, he nodded in agreement. "That's right. Brilliant infield defense can calm a pitcher's heart. Likewise, infield errors and impatience put even more pressure on the pitcher."

But Kijima Little League chose otherwise: "Player substitution. Number 1 pitcher Shibata is coming off the mound. Replacing Shibata is number 11, Yamaguchi."

"Changing pitchers probably carries less risk," Shibasaki said as he recorded the substitutions in the scorebook. "Kōshū, don't get too absorbed. Remember to fill in the scorebook. Coach will check it."

"Ah... I forgot to fill in this inning."

The Air Raid Siren sounded again. The first game had ended, with Edogawa Central Little League winning as expected by a huge margin, 8–0. The next game began at one o'clock, and everyone took out their bento lunches.

"Takano, where were you sleeping just now?" Lang Zhi sat behind Kōshū, having already wolfed down his lunch.

"How did you know I was sleeping?"

"Wasn't it obvious? The red marks on your face haven't even faded."

"Huh? Was it that obvious?" Everyone nodded, then piled on: "Coach probably saw it too."

Sneaking off somewhere else to sleep during the opening ceremony and opening game because it was hot, leisurely enjoying a nap while two groups of people anxiously searched for him... So this was what everyone thought of him now...

Kōshū bit into a piece of meat in despair.

"So, where were you sleeping?" Lang Zhi quietly leaned closer.

"It's hot. Don't get so close." Kōshū looked at Lang Zhi, and a wicked idea came to him. "If you put away all the pictures in your room, I'll tell you."

"Huh? Why? Why?"

"Oh, and replace those thick curtains in your room too. Aren't they unbearably hot?"

"What did my room decor ever do to you?!" Lang Zhi had finally overcome his trauma and put his two-dimensional anime girls back up on the walls. He strongly protested Kōshū's demands.

"Don't ask why. It just makes me uncomfortable to look at." The more Kōshū spoke, the more justified he sounded. "This is my right as your older brother."

"Calling yourself my older brother out of nowhere is disgusting. You have no right to decide how I decorate my room!" Lang Zhi bristled.

"Oh, really? Then it looks like I need to have a talk with Mom about minors' mental health and their views on the opposite sex."

"Ahhh, you bastard, Takano! If you say bad things about me to Mom, then I'll..." He abruptly ran out of words. Academically, Kōshū ranked near the top. As for his relationships at school, Kōshū was so unobtrusive that Lang Zhi had no way to dig up anything. And in training, compared to Kōshū's disciplined daily morning runs, Lang Zhi had even less ground to criticize him.

So he sat down in silence, glaring at the smugly swaying back of Kōshū's head, vowing to find Kōshū's weakness someday.

When Sasaki had finally quieted down, everyone around them felt a pang of regret. So where exactly had Kōshū been sleeping? Judging by the red marks covering half his face, it seemed like a cool and comfortable spot.

The two afternoon games featured four relatively low-ranked teams. The only thing that caught Kōshū's attention was Seichi Little League's catcher. They took the field first, and during the team warm-up, the catcher received a pitch in the dirt and quickly fired to second to pick off a stealing runner. The entire sequence was noticeably faster than those of the teams that had played earlier.

"That catcher's throws are visibly faster."

Hayakawa agreed with Kōshū. "But in a real game, a catcher being fast at picking off runners isn't enough. If the runner gets an early start, the ball is still in the pitcher's hand. The pitcher has to throw to the catcher first, and only then can the catcher throw to second to tag out the stealing runner. So if the pitcher isn't quick enough, or the pitcher and catcher aren't coordinated well enough, they still won't be able to get the runner."

Kōshū nodded with deep feeling.

"By the way, does Seichi Little League's name mean it's connected to a church?"

"That's right. It's a Little League team under a Christian school. Actually, lots of schools affiliated with churches in Japan play baseball. There's Tenri City in Nara, where Tenri High School and Tenri University are located. This 'Tenri' refers to the Tenrikyo Church."

Because they knew Kōshū was Chinese, his teammates often went out of their way to explain bits of Japanese common knowledge to him.

Seichi Little League's catcher was also their cleanup hitter. With the game locked at 1–1, he hit a home run to left field, making it 2–1.

"A home run." Kōshū had not watched many games in person. This was his first time seeing someone hit a home run in an actual game.

For some reason, Hayakawa patted his shoulder with a hint of helplessness. "Yes, yes. It's a home run."

Kōshū closed his mouth. The game quickly reached the fifth inning, and Seichi Little League's first batter bunted on the very first pitch, catching the other side off guard. The pitcher and third baseman nearly collided on top of the ball, allowing the leadoff batter to get on base safely.

The second batter squared to bunt twice, putting the opposing infield on high alert. Without realizing it, they crept two steps forward. Then he hit a ball that dropped behind the shortstop. Had the shortstop stayed in his original position, he could have made a diving catch.

With no outs and runners on first and second, Seichi Little League made excellent use of their remaining outs and scored another run.

Hayakawa Aki spoke earnestly beside him. "Kōshū, see? This is how you torment a pitcher. A pitcher deals with batters by keeping them constantly guessing, and a batter frequently showing bunt can also keep the pitcher under the pressure of constant guessing."

Kōshū nodded obediently, understanding that besides pitching itself, he also needed to learn the various tactics surrounding pitching.

In the end, Seichi Little League won 3–1. Kōshū nervously handed his filled-out scorebook to Coach Ninomiya for inspection. Coach Ninomiya noticed that besides the scores, it contained some of Kōshū's own thoughts. Notes marked "Hayakawa" beside them were presumably things Hayakawa Aki had taught him during the game. Coach Ninomiya placed the scorebook heavily back in Kōshū's hands.

"There won't be a next time. Can't a game get you excited?" It had been the same during the previous practice game. Kōshū had secretly run off elsewhere. Coach Ninomiya frowned at a player who could not take either practice games or games he watched seriously.

"This time was an accident. I promise I'll record every game properly from now on."

"Is that so? Since you've promised, then after every game from now on, the assistant coach will inspect your post-game notes. Do you have any objections to this arrangement?"

Kōshū's scalp went numb. "No!"