The Suma Tomogaoka baseball fields air was thick with anticipation as reporters, fans, and scouts gathered along the sidelines, all waiting to catch a glimpse of the team.Suma Tomogaoka was the favorite to win the Fall Tournament in this Prefecture, and every practice felt like a prelude to something bigger, something inevitable.
Renjiro adjusted the strap of his camera bag, his eyes scanning the field. There were at least a dozen other reporters crowding the fences, notebooks out, cameras ready, waiting for that one moment they could immortalize in print or on film. It was a media frenzy that hadn't been this intense in a long time, and for good reason.
"There's a bunch of reporters here," Renjiro muttered under his breath, nudging his colleague, Yamamoto, who was scribbling notes.
Yamamoto chuckled, not looking up from his pad. "What do you expect? Suma Tomogaoka's the favorite to win the whole thing. They're stronger than Seimei, that's for sure."
Renjiro nodded, his eyes focusing on the players warming up on the field. His gaze landed on Noboru Hayashi, the ace pitcher for Suma Tomogaoka, who was going through his pitching routine with a calm intensity. Noboru's presence on the mound was commanding; he had a natural rhythm to his movements, each pitch released with precision, as though he were already visualizing the batters he would be facing in the tournament.
"They say if they win both their matches, they'll play Seimei in the quarterfinal," Yamamoto added, finally looking up from his notes. "That's the match everyone's waiting for."
Renjiro nodded again, his focus still on Noboru. The pitcher was a force to be reckoned with, his fastball cutting through the air with speed and control that sent a chill through the reporters gathered there.
"Look at his control," Renjiro muttered, almost to himself. "His pitches are fast, and he's not missing his spots. That's dangerous."
Yamamoto smirked. "He's got the kind of arm that can take them all the way to the final. But don't forget about their offense, they are monsters at the plate."
---
At the other end of the field, Coach Fujimoto, the head coach of Suma Tomogaoka, was watching the practice unfold with a sharp eye. His assistant coach stood beside him, clipboard in hand, muttering observations about the team's current form. The tension in the air was palpable; Suma Tomogaoka was expected to win, but the weight of expectation was always a double-edged sword.
"Seimei won by three in their last game," the assistant coach said "Their super rookie, Shinjiro Takumi, has been on fire. The kid's been batting like a veteran."
Fujimoto's expression remained calm, though his eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Seimei. He had heard the name Shinjiro Takumi thrown around in recent weeks, often spoken with the kind of reverence reserved for future stars. The young player had been making waves, not just with his bat, but with his cool-headed composure on the field.
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"Although Ryoichi was switched out in the end, Seimei managed to win. Their pitching's solid, but their batters are lacking," the assistant continued. "If we face them, we could take them down. Noboru's fastball will tear through those hitters."
Fujimoto crossed his arms, his face unreadable. "Don't get ahead of yourself. We need to focus on our next opponents. It doesn't matter how good Noboru's pitching is if we don't win our next game."
The assistant coach nodded, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Still, Seimei's a team to watch. Their lineup is thin, especially in the bottom half. And if we get to the quarterfinals…"
Fujimoto cut him off, his voice stern. "I don't care about the quarterfinals right now. I care about our next game. If we don't win that, Seimei might as well be playing ghosts."
The assistant coach chuckled nervously. "Right. One game at a time."
Fujimoto's gaze shifted toward Noboru, who was just finishing his set of pitches. His pitches had been on point all afternoon, each one landing exactly where it needed to. But Fujimoto knew that pitching alone wouldn't win them the tournament. Masato, their cleanup hitter, had to deliver. And Subaru—the fastest runner on the team—needed to be ready to make plays in the infield.
"Subaru!" Fujimoto called out, watching as the young player jogged over, his speed evident even in something as simple as a warm-up.
Subaru nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Yeah, Coach?"
"Keep your focus in the infield," Fujimoto said, his tone calm but firm. "Don't get caught off guard. Their hitters will try to exploit any gaps."
Subaru grinned, nodding confidently. "Got it, Coach. I'll be ready."
Just then, a sharp crack echoed through the field as Masato, the team's cleanup hitter, made contact with a pitch during batting practice. The ball sailed over the outfield fence, drawing cheers from the players gathered around the dugout.
Renjiro, still watching from the sidelines, whistled low. "That's their cleanup hitter, right? Masato?"
Yamamoto nodded, scribbling something down in his notebook. "Yeah, he's their power hitter. He's been key in turning games around for them. If he's in form, Suma Tomogaoka's offense will be tough to stop."
Renjiro watched as Masato rounded the batting cage, his bat resting on his shoulder. "Looks like they're firing on all cylinders."
Yamamoto's smile widened. "That's why they're the favorites."
Noboru prepared for his final round of pitches. His breaking balls were already legendary among the high school ranks, but it was his ability to mix them in that made him so dangerous. He knew how to read batters, how to get into their heads. When Noboru was on the mound, the game moved at his pace.
Alright, one more set, Noboru thought, winding up for his first pitch. His mind was clear, focused. He could feel the ball in his hand, the seams pressing against his fingertips in just the right way. His body knew what to do. He released the pitch, and the ball shot toward the plate with blistering speed.
PING!
Masato swung, making perfect contact with the ball and sending it sailing high into the outfield. It was a clean, powerful hit, and Noboru's lips twisted into a slight smile.
"Not bad. But let's see you hit this next one."
He wound up again, this time preparing for his changeup. His grip on the ball shifted slightly, and he released it with a subtle difference in speed. The ball floated toward the plate, deceivingly slow.
Masato swung hard, but the ball dropped just under his bat, and he missed.
Strike one.
From the dugout, Coach Fujimoto watched carefully. Noboru's control is good today. He'll be ready for the tournament.
As Noboru continued to practice, the atmosphere on the field remained intense. Every player on Suma Tomogaoka's team knew that the tournament would define their season—and perhaps their future in baseball. Noboru was their ace, but it would take the entire team to win.
---
The reporters began to pack up, satisfied with what they had seen. Renjiro and Yamamoto exchanged glances as they watched the players leave the field.
"Think Suma has what it takes?" Renjiro asked, slinging his camera over his shoulder.
Yamamoto grinned. "No question. They've got the depth, the pitching, and the hitting. If they can get past their next opponents, we'll be looking at a showdown with Seimei."
Renjiro laughed softly. "That's the game I want to see."
As the players disappeared into the locker rooms, Noboru lingered for a moment, staring at the field. His mind was already on the upcoming game, on the opponents he would face, and on the victory he was determined to secure.
"We're going all the way," he thought, his determination hardening like steel. "I'm going to lead this team to the spring invitational,"
In the dugout, Coach Fujimoto gathered his things, but not before giving one last glance at his team, particularly Noboru. The path to victory was long and treacherous, but with the players he had, there was no doubt in his mind: Suma Tomogaoka was ready for the challenge.
The road to the tournament was only beginning, and the storm was gathering momentum.