The Second Victory

Second Victory

The next morning was the second match of the Kanto Tournament for Kinoshita Youth Baseball, against Shiraishi Little League.

In Kōshū's eyes, this game was somewhat cruel—or rather, he realized that once you step onto the center of the Diamond Field, the pitcher is like a prisoner in a cage. Even if you want to flee from a strong opponent, the moment you step back, the railing presses against your back.

"Takano, what are you spacing out for?" Lang Zhi sat down next to Kōshū again. Lately, for some reason, he'd been especially clingy.

Kōshū lowered his eyes. The moment he looked up, he couldn't help but glance at the opposing dugout—at that pitcher no one approached. His voice low, he said, "Their pitcher is broken."

"Yeah, I didn't expect them to break him by the third inning." Unlike Kōshū, Lang Zhi wished he could have been part of it.

"Hayakawa, look at him like that—maybe he'll lose his confidence in baseball." Kōshū turned his head away, not engaging with Lang Zhi.

Hayakawa Aki frowned. Clearly, he felt the same as Kōshū: "Yeah, but there's no helping it. Their ace injured his foot. If they just gave up on the game, it would hit the team's morale even harder."

"Will Coach Ninomiya go easy on them..." Kōshū said, then shook his own head: "If he did, the fighting spirit we just built up would scatter again."

Shibasaki tapped Kōshū lightly on the head from behind: "Don't make that face. It's not like you've never watched a game before. This is what we pitchers have to face. Look, he's going back up."

As Nozawa quickly retired three batters, the Shiraishi Relief Pitcher, still catching his breath, took the mound again. He stood up from the dugout, no longer hanging his head. Under the coach's questioning gaze, he pursed his lips and nodded firmly. The coach hesitated for two seconds, then finally turned back toward the field.

'Since Ito still wants to stand up there...'

Even though it was Ito's own wish to keep pitching on the mound, when he faced the batter who had hit his ball in the previous at-bat, his heart still felt weary. His hand could barely grip the ball as he tossed the Anti-Slip Powder bag.

The catcher called for an Outside Low Corner fastball. He didn't shake it off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the batter staring at him intently, the bat swaying—it looked especially annoying. He didn't want his ball to get hit again. His pitching form unconsciously twisted, and as he swung his arm, the ball flew far off from Home Plate.

It was a big Wild Pitch. Though he should have apologized, Ito felt an inexplicable relief in his heart. At least his ball wouldn't get hit. That relief was like pressing an ice-cold drink against your face under a scorching sun—a jolt of cold that only made the heat more obvious.

Then came three more balls. The boy who insisted on staying on the mound seemed to have lost the Strike Zone entirely.

"No matter how you look at it, they should switch pitchers by now," Kōshū muttered.

Lang Zhi leaned in: "What's up? You've been acting weird since earlier, always talking about their pitcher."

Kōshū sighed: "How would a single-celled organism like you understand?" After successfully provoking Lang Zhi, Kōshū felt a bit better. He was also a little puzzled by his own state.

Probably because he'd heard that this team had made it to the third round relying on a Relief Pitcher. He'd been curious, expecting to see a great game, but instead watched a pitcher fighting alone against an entire team.

"It's over, Shiraishi. Playing like this."

The first to move was Shiraishi's catcher. He called a timeout and looked at the pitcher with his head down: "Ito, that's enough. Nakamura is warmed up."

The pitcher said nothing. He just looked tiredly as the catcher signaled to the dugout. Someone came up and said something to him, but he wasn't listening. He only realized he was still holding the ball when he reached the dugout.

"He's finally off the mound." Kōshū let out a breath.

Shibasaki said meaningfully: "Takano, relax. Our team won't let a pitcher fight alone."

The rest of the game was garbage time. Shiraishi Little League sent up a first-year player, and Kinoshita Youth Baseball treated him like a pitching machine. Coach Ninomiya swapped most of the starters for substitutes, and in the end, Kinoshita Little League won big.

"I still want to play in a game." Lang Zhi muttered without a care. Kōshū looked over the short, fidgety head at the Pitcher's Mound. That bobbing head stopped too, and they both stared at the same place.

"What's up? Still thinking about that pitcher? Is it the pressure of officially joining the Second String? Don't worry about it. You're way better than him."

That was unexpected. Kōshū raised an eyebrow and listened calmly to the short guy's attempt to comfort him.

"Hey—it's really nice playing ball with the guys, but you're too much of an eyesore." The others teased as they all headed back to the dugout together.

"What are you thinking about?" Hayakawa Aki pushed Kōshū from behind.

"I just suddenly understood what the Pitcher's Mound really is. From that pitcher's struggle."

Before coming to Japan, Kōshū didn't even know what baseball was. Later, when he started playing, he never saw himself as part of a team—he was just playing baseball for fun. It wasn't until he joined the Second String in actual games that he first stood on the Pitcher's Mound. Not the practice mound in the Bullpen, but real dirt under his feet, teammates shouting behind him, a batter in front of him. That tense air of the ballpark truly filled his lungs for the first time.

"Takano, a pitcher who struck out that many people in his first real game—if you keep wallowing like this, the seniors will want to hit you." Shibasaki quietly reminded him.

"Huh, is it wallowing?" Kōshū put on a simple, honest smile. Under the gaze of the teammates in front, it didn't crack at all.

"Pfft—serves you right." Lang Zhi snickered. Kōshū saying that was like a top student who always aced exams, praised by his parents, suddenly feeling sorry for a struggling classmate getting beaten up and sighing about how hard being a student is. It was infuriating.

Kōshū quickly made himself small. Just then, the Coaching Staff came over, saving him from the seniors' bullying.

The Coaching Staff stopped. One of them, with yellow hair, caught everyone's attention.

Coach Ninomiya looked around at the players before introducing him: "This is the new Coach Kinoshita. He'll mainly be teaching you hitting techniques." He pressed his hand down to stop the players' applause, then turned slightly and said to the yellow-haired man behind him: "Coach Kinoshita, introduce yourself."

Huh? Kinoshita Yanagi thought he was just here to look around today. Coach Ninomiya was such an old-fashioned stickler that he'd definitely try to keep him from causing trouble on his first day—he wouldn't let him speak.

"Ahem, I'm Kinoshita Yanagi. I'll be your hitting coach from now on." Then he bowed and let Coach Ninomiya continue. No way—if he got out of line on his first day, he'd definitely get reported to his mom, and then his day would be ruined.

Coach Ninomiya calmly picked up the thread: "Coach Kinoshita Yanagi previously served as a coach for three years in the American Minor League. He has very rich coaching experience. Everyone must study hard under him."

Kinoshita Yanagi stayed quiet like a quail in the back, not daring to make a sound. When the team disbanded, he followed everyone to the meeting room, lagging behind. Unfortunately, he ended up walking shoulder to shoulder with Coach Ninomiya.

"Kinoshita, dye that yellow hair back today."

Well, this old man Ninomiya was still the same old man Ninomiya.

After a hellish round of performance reviews, I'm finally back.

Has anyone ever seen a boss like this? The whole center was required to finish their reviews in one Thursday, running from 9:30 all the way to 8:30 PM. Then she had the nerve to say, "If we don't finish the reviews, no one can work properly." But everyone in the know understood—she wanted to free up a workday so everyone could write her project closing reports and reviews.

For her quarterly review, three managers served her. For her project closing report, five people served her. The first draft was due next Monday, meaning these people had to work overtime over the weekend to get it done. I'm starting to embrace socialism.