As the sun beat down on Nehimon Seimei's training fields, a crowd of reporters gathered around the bullpen, eagerly awaiting the arrival of ace pitcher Ryoichi Kuroda. The media was abuzz with speculation about his performance, their cameras poised and notepads ready.

Ryoichi took the mound, his face set in a determined expression. With a quick glance at the catcher's sign, he reared back and unleashed a sizzling fastball that hit the mitt with a resounding thud. The reporters scribbled furiously in their notepads, their eyes glued to the radar gun, which flashed a promising number.

As Ryoichi continued to fire pitch after pitch, the anticipation in the air grew thicker. He mixed in his signature splitter, the ball diving sharply as it reached the plate, leaving the catcher's glove popping with each throw. The reporters watched in awe, their minds racing with the implications of Kuroda's performance.

One reporter leaned over to his colleague, excitement evident in his voice. "You think he'll start the next one?"

The other reporter shrugged, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe. But you know, this team is so deep, they might not even need him to win the whole thing."

Just then, Ryoichi threw a sinker, the ball dropping dramatically as it approached the plate. The reporters exchanged glances, their eyebrows raised in surprise. "Did you see that?" one of them whispered, jotting down notes. "He's really adding new stuff to his arsenal!"

Ryoichi, seemingly oblivious to the chatter around him, focused on his task at hand. He took a deep breath and unleashed a gyroball, the ball spinning in an unusual motion that left the catcher momentarily stunned. The reporters were left dumbstruck, their pens hovering over their notepads as they processed the new pitch.

"Did he just throw a gyroball?" one of them exclaimed, eyes wide with disbelief. "That's a game-changer!"

As the bullpen session came to an end, Ryoichi stepped off the mound, his shirt drenched in sweat but his expression calm and collected. The reporters swarmed him, shouting questions about his readiness for the upcoming game and the new pitches he had showcased.

Amidst the chaos, Daiki, the team's catcher, approached Ryoichi with a mix of admiration and critique. "You've got some impressive stuff today, Kuroda," he said, wiping his brow. "But it's not perfect. You need to work on your control with the gyroball. It's still a bit erratic."

Ryoichi nodded, acknowledging Daiki's insight. "I know, i know I'm still figuring it out," he replied, a hint of determination in his voice. "I'll get it right it."

Daiki crossed his arms, a serious look on his face. "Just remember, it's not just about the new pitches. You need to trust your bread-and-butter stuff too. Don't get too caught up in the flashy stuff."

---

Aoi and Emiko busily organized supplies for the upcoming baseball match. The scent of fresh grass mingled with the sweet aroma of snacks they had prepared, creating a vibrant atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter from students enjoying their break.

Aoi flipped through a clipboard, checking off items with a determined expression. "Okay, we've got the drinks and snacks sorted. Just need to make sure we have enough water bottles for the team," she said, glancing around the courtyard.

Emiko, kneeling beside a box of energy bars, nodded in agreement. "I'll grab some more from the storage room. We can't have the players running out of energy during the game!"

As Emiko stood up, Aoi's playful curiosity bubbled to the surface. "So, Emiko, are you and Shinjiro dating or something?"

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Emiko froze, her cheeks instantly flushing a bright shade of crimson. "W-What? No! We're just friends!" she stammered, her eyes darting away as she busied herself with the snacks, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Aoi raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. "Really? I could have sworn I saw you two together at the café last week, looking all cozy."

The memory of that day flooded Emiko's mind—sipping iced coffees and sharing laughter, the way Shinjiro's eyes sparkled when he smiled. She felt her heart race at the thought, but she quickly brushed it off. "We were just studying! It was nothing like that," she insisted, her voice a little too high-pitched.

Aoi leaned closer, her expression playful yet probing. "Come on, Emiko! Anyone can see that...."

Emiko felt a flutter in her stomach at the mention of Shinjiro, but she shook her head, trying to suppress the thoughts swirling in her mind. "We're just friends, Aoi. Really."

"Sure, sure," Aoi replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "Just don't let me catch you two holding hands or anything!"

As they continued their work, Emiko couldn't help but steal glances at Shinjiro, who was practicing batting with the team. She admired the way he focused intently, his brow furrowed in concentration as he swung the bat. The sight brought a smile to her face, and she felt a warmth spread through her, but she quickly shook her head, reminding herself that they were just friends.

Aoi noticed Emiko's gaze and nudged her playfully. "See? You're totally into him!"

Emiko laughed nervously, trying to deflect. "I'm just supporting him as a friend!"

"Alright, but if you ever need advice on dating, I'm here for you," Aoi said, winking.

---

The team gathered for another grueling practice session under the blazing afternoon sun. The air was alive with the crack of bats hitting balls, the thud of cleats on dirt, and the shouts of encouragement from players. Today's focus was on fielding practice, specifically hitting balls to left field, a drill designed to help Shinjiro Takumi improve under pressure after a series of costly mistakes during recent games.

Shinjiro stood alone in left field, his hands clenched tightly around his glove as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. His heart pounded in his chest, the pressure of his previous errors weighing heavy on his mind. Every eye was on him.

Meanwhile, Shota Iwata leaned against the dugout, his arms crossed and a skeptical look plastered across his face. "Why are we wasting time on Shinjiro?" he muttered to Kaito Nakashima, who was casually tossing a ball up and down, his usual carefree grin lighting up his face. "We should be focusing on team play, not babysitting one guy."

Kaito caught the ball mid-air and turned to Shota, his grin widening. "You sound jealous," he teased. "Even you can see he's got that thing about him."

Shota sighed, glancing out at Shinjiro nervously waiting in the outfield. "Yeah, but we can't afford to have him crack under pressure in an actual game."

Kaito shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Pressure makes diamonds, right? Shinjiro just needs to stop overthinking it, and we've gotta help him. If he shines, the whole team benefits."

Out in the field, Coach Nakamura called for another pitch. The ball flew off Kenji Tadeka's bat, rocketing toward left field. Shinjiro's body tensed as the ball soared through the air, its path eerily familiar to the one he had missed last game. He sprinted toward it, the sound of his teammates' cheers urging him forward. For a split second, doubt clouded his mind—Don't mess up again. But as the ball descended, he dove, stretching out his glove.

With a satisfying thwack, the ball landed in his glove, and Shinjiro tumbled into the dirt. Kaito's shout was the loudest. "See! He's got it!"

Shota watched the scene unfold, the flicker of doubt still tugging at him. "Alright, maybe I've been too hard on him," he muttered, though his arms remained folded. "But he's still got to prove he can handle the pressure in a real game."

Shinjiro got back to his feet, dusting off the dirt as a wide grin spread across his face. The knot of anxiety in his chest had loosened. With each successful catch, his confidence grew, and the nervous energy he had felt earlier began to dissipate. His teammates, once skeptical, were now rallying behind him, their shouts of support making the weight of the pressure more bearable.

Kenji stepped up again, swinging hard. The ball sailed high toward left field, testing Shinjiro's reaction. He tracked it with laser focus, his muscles coiled with tension as the ball sliced through the air. Sprinting back, he gauged the distance, then leapt up, glove stretched high. The ball slapped into the leather, and Shinjiro landed on his feet, breathless but triumphant.

The team's cheers echoed across the field, a mixture of relief and pride. Kaito beamed, clapping his hands together. "Told you he could do it!"

Shota, finally letting his arms drop, gave a small nod, his skepticism easing. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

As practice continued, more balls were fired into left field, and Shinjiro responded with agility and determination. With every catch, the connection between the team grew stronger. They weren't just polishing Shinjiro's skills; they were reinforcing the trust and camaraderie that would carry them through the pressures of competition.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the field, practice finally drew to a close. Shinjiro, drenched in sweat but filled with a new sense of accomplishment, jogged toward the dugout. Yamato, approached him and his face grew serious, his eyes locking onto Shinjiro's. "You'll face pressure in the games, no doubt about that. But we've got your back out there, same as today. We're a team. We rise and fall together."

Shinjiro nodded, Yamato's words sinking deep. The real test was still to come, but for the first time in weeks, he felt ready to face it head-on.

As Coach Nakamura gathered the team for a final huddle, his voice rang out clear and strong. "Good work today. Remember, it's not just about one player's performance. It's about how we lift each other up and play as a team."

Shinjiro glanced around at his teammates, seeing their determination and belief reflected back at him. He wasn't alone in this struggle. He had a team that believed in him, and that belief was beginning to transform his own doubts into resolve.

As the sun began to set, Shinjiro made a silent vow: I'll turn this pressure into strength. I'll prove to myself and my team that I'm ready for whatever comes next.