After five innings, the score on the field remained 2:1.
A freshman rookie pitcher like Kawakami had managed to hold out this long against one of Chiba Prefecture's top four teams?
He had given up only four hits and one RBI across five innings.
Coach Kataoka was fairly satisfied with this performance.
"Though not dominant, he's already a qualified pitcher. Once the summer tournament ends, promote him to the first string."
Kawakami was very suitable as a middle reliever.
The deeper a team goes in high school baseball tournaments, the greater the pressure becomes.
To achieve good results—especially to reach Koshien, or even win there—relying on a single ace is simply not enough.
So, at a minimum, a team needs at least one backup rotation pitcher—preferably two.
And another point that couldn't be overlooked: Kawakami alone wasn't the reason the game had gone so smoothly. The credit of another player even surpassed Kawakami's.
That person was Miyuki, who was responsible for calling the pitches.
At this pace, even if they couldn't win the game, they would still be able to hold their own against the opponent.
It was under these conditions that the sixth inning began.
"Crack!"
Right as the inning began, a batter from Matsuyama High's team cleanly hit a base hit.
Squatting behind the plate, Miyuki frowned immediately.
He had a bad feeling.
In the previous inning, Kawakami's pitching had clearly been sharp. But now, he seemed to be losing steam.
After so many innings, the Matsuyama batters had also gradually adapted to Kawakami's style.
The combination of these two factors led to the current crisis.
From the umpire's seat, Kataoka narrowed his eyes. He understood clearly—Kawakami had likely reached his limit.
Though he had pitched well in the earlier innings, the Matsuyama team still exerted immense pressure on him.
On top of that, Kawakami was just a first-year rookie. His stamina and endurance clearly hadn't reached the average standard of Seidou High's baseball team.
"Substitution!"
Takashima Rei, the chief umpire in the dugout, had clearly noticed the same thing.
They had been so impressed by Kawakami's performance that they had forgotten he was just a first-year.
No outs, a runner on first base.
Seidou replaced him with the former second-string ace pitcher.
It should have been a safe and steady move.
However, this decision completely threw Seidou off.
The second-string ace, just stepping onto the mound and not yet adapted to the atmosphere, was immediately hit for a deep fly ball to the outfield.
"They score!"
The score was tied—2:2.
And that wasn't the end. The Matsuyama batters seemed like they were on fire, hitting the ball again and again.
Despite Seidou's desperate defense, they still allowed four runs in one go.
The score became 2:5.
Seidou had gone from a one-run lead to trailing by three runs.
The second-string ace was completely shaken.
But now, Seidou's second-string team had no other available pitchers left, so he had to keep pitching.
With the score at 2:5, Matsuyama's offense still hadn't stopped. When their second batter launched a long hit to the outfield—
"Crack!"
The white ball soared through the sky, crossing the horizon.
In Seidou's dugout, the players watched the ball fly out, their hearts in their throats.
If that ball went out, it wouldn't be just four runs—it would become six.
There were still runners on base.
That would mean Seidou had no hope left.
Everyone watched helplessly as the ball flew almost 100 meters before it started to drop from the sky.
It's over.
Even if it wasn't a home run, it was definitely a powerful extra-base hit.
Just as people were thinking this, they saw a small figure about 100 meters away raise a glove.
"Why is he there?"
The Matsuyama players were baffled. That spot was so far out—there shouldn't have been anyone there.
But in Seidou's dugout, it felt like a lifeline had appeared in a hopeless situation.
"Zhou-san!!"
Not just the freshmen—even many second- and third-year seniors began addressing Zhou Hao with honorifics.
Zhou Hao, who had already moved to the deep outfield early on, caught the ball steadily in his glove.
"Pop!"
"Out!"
Three outs—side retired.
The sixth inning ended with the score at 2:5.
Seidou's offense was once again neutralized.
As the seventh inning approached, the game had entered its final stages. The second-string ace, who had just given up four runs, still insisted on taking the mound.
But it was obvious to everyone that something was off.
If they sent him up now, this game was as good as lost.
Pitchers were strange creatures.
Sometimes, even when they were fired up, if they weren't in the right condition, they simply couldn't pitch well.
Just like their current ace—something just didn't feel right.
Takashima Rei had no choice but to consider another replacement.
The first person who came to mind was Kawakami.
But he had already pitched earlier, and his stamina was completely spent. Even if he went back out, it was unlikely he could pitch effectively.
Looking around at the others—
Takashima Rei was shocked to find that after several roster adjustments, even though the second-string team now had an abundance of players…
The number of usable pitchers was alarmingly small.
The first-string ace and Danba, the second-string ace and Kawakami.
Seidou's pitching staff had always been criticized. Compared to their terrifying offensive power, their pitching was too weak.
Now that pitchers No. 1 through No. 4 had been used…
Finding someone capable of holding off Matsuyama High was not going to be easy.
On an ordinary day, it might have been different.
But today could very well be the last game for many third-year seniors. Some of their eyes were already red with emotion.
Because of this, many pitchers who knew they weren't good enough didn't even dare to volunteer.
Takashima Rei frowned.
Sure, she could bring in a first-string pitcher to save the day—but that would change the meaning of this match.
"Is there anyone among you who's a pitcher?"
In the end, Takashima Rei decided to pick someone from the remaining players.
Even if they lost the game, she still wanted to rely on the second-string team.
Hearing her question, many players who had once pitched in middle school remained silent.
This match carried too much responsibility. They couldn't handle it.
No one had the courage to step forward?
This once again made Takashima Rei painfully aware of how lacking their team was in capable pitchers.
Other teams wouldn't be in this situation.
Just as she thought this, someone she never would've expected raised his hand.
"Is it possible… that I'm a pitcher?"
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