Diamond No Ace: Echoes Of The Ace

Chapter 24: The Game Begins

Although Eijun was a bit disappointed that he couldn't convince Furuya to join their team, there was no time to dwell on it.

The freshmen's first official match at Seidou High had finally begun, and the tension among the new players was palpable.

No matter how much preparation and mental fortitude they had tried to build before the game, standing face-to-face with their senior teammates was intimidating.

However, Furuya remained indifferent to the piercing glares from the upperclassmen, seemingly unaffected by the pressure.

As expected, Coach Kataoka's lineup had Tojou Hideaki as the starting pitcher. Eijun noticed Tojou trying to give himself a pep talk and approached him.

"Nervous?" Eijun asked.

"Yeah, a little. I really envy you, Sawamura-kun. You seem so calm, like you're not nervous at all," Tojou replied.

"Hahaha, you've got it all wrong," Eijun said, laughing at Tojou's envious expression.

Leaning against the dugout railing, Eijun extended his hand toward Tojou. Tojou hesitated briefly before taking Eijun's hand. To his surprise, Eijun's hand wasn't warm—it was slightly cool and trembling faintly.

Tojou looked up sharply, startled, and met Eijun's bright, confident smile.

"See? I'm actually nervous too. My hands are shaking. But I've done everything I can for now. Regret is something we deal with after the game, during our reflection. Tojou, Coach Kataoka believes in you, and so do we. So, believe in us too. Let loose and pitch boldly!" Eijun encouraged.

"Got it. I don't know how many runs the seniors will score off me, but as long as the coach doesn't pull me out, I'll fight to the very end—for myself and for you guys," Tojou replied firmly.

The game began with the freshmen batting first.

On the mound for the seniors was Seidou's ace, Tanba Koichirou.

Squatting behind the plate was Miyauchi, who didn't spare the nervous freshmen a shred of mercy as he signaled for the pitch.

Tanba wasted no time throwing his signature pitch—a vertical curveball.

"What's wrong, rookie? You can't hit the ball if you're sitting on the ground," Miyauchi said, half-mocking, half-advising the freshman batter, who had fallen back in fright after the ball narrowly missed him and landed neatly in the catcher's glove.

The batter, replayed the pitch in his mind. The ball had seemed to brake mid-air before curving into the strike zone.

How can anyone hit a pitch like that?

Feeling helpless, he glanced toward the dugout, hoping for guidance.

Remembering their team didn't have a coach, the batter felt a pang of despair.

But then he noticed Eijun gesturing from the dugout, signaling him to recall their pre-game strategy.

"Observe carefully. Don't swing recklessly. Wait for a fastball."

Calming himself, the batter took a deep breath, reminded of Eijun's plan.

That's right, this is only the first inning. The priority is observation—focus on pitches you can hit.

The batter reset his stance and refocused on Tanba.

Seeing the batter regain composure, Miyauchi wasted no time signaling for another vertical curveball.

Though the batter had braced himself, the movement of the pitch was still astonishing.

He chose not to swing, resulting in two strikes.

"I can't hit a pitch like that, but…"

"If you can't hit it, don't panic and swing blindly. In the early innings, prioritize observation and memorize the pitch patterns. I'll exaggerate my signals in the dugout, making the seniors think we're specifically targeting fastballs. To manage their pitch count, they'll eventually mix in fastballs. The first batter will likely face only vertical curveballs—it's both a show of dominance and a test. But if you see a fastball, swing. By the second batter, Miyauchi will mix in fastballs once he suspects our strategy. That's when you swing decisively."

"So far, things are unfolding just as Sawamura said. My job is to pave the way for the second batter—that's how our team plays together."

Miyauchi, noticing the batter once again refrained from swinging at the curveball, wondered if the rookie was waiting for a fastball or merely observing.

With a count of two strikes and one ball, Miyauchi signaled for a curveball outside the zone to test the batter.

Tanba nodded and delivered, expecting Hayashi to strike out swinging. However, the batter didn't take the bait, letting the ball pass.

This impressed Miyauchi, but he decided against wasting more pitches. "No need to waste balls on someone who won't swing recklessly," he muttered. Miyauchi signaled for another vertical curveball, and Tanba delivered. The batter struck out.

The second batter, followed the plan and let the first two curveballs pass. Then, as predicted, a fastball came. The pitch was hittable, and the second batter swung, sending the ball high into the air, but it was caught by the second baseman.

"Out!" the umpire declared.

"Sorry," the second batter said to the third batter. "The fastball's trajectory is clearer than the curveball's, and it's about the same speed as our pitching machine. But it's heavy—it's tough to hit."

The third batter nodded grimly and stepped up to the plate. The curveball's movement startled him, and he swung and missed.

The second pitch was a fastball, but the difference in trajectory caused him to barely make contact.

The ball was stopped by the third baseman, and the third batter was thrown out at first.

Tanba, having retired three consecutive batters, let out a triumphant roar from the mound, as if venting his frustrations. His form today was impressive.

Meanwhile, on the mound for the freshmen, Tojou adjusted the dirt underfoot and faced the senior batters, who exuded an intimidating aura.

He closed his eyes briefly to compose himself, recalling the scouting report on the batter.

The senior wasn't strong against inside pitches but stood close to the plate to block that area.

Catcher Kariba signaled for an inside pitch, and Tojou nodded.

With determination, he wound up and threw.

"We've gathered all the data on the seniors, and now it's time to create strategies based on their strengths and weaknesses."

Although Tanaka-senpai struggled with inside pitches, his sheer power allowed him to muscle the ball. However, it went foul. Tojou wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "That was close."

Following the sign, he threw another inside pitch, which was also hit foul.

Now with two strikes, Tanaka gripped his bat tightly. "Is this intentional, or is this just the kind of pitcher he is?" Seeing yet another pitch with the same trajectory, Tanaka glared at Tojou. "Three times in the same spot? Don't underestimate me!"

"Tanaka-senpai struggles with inside pitches, but he's also quick to lose his temper. If we throw three consecutive pitches to the same spot, he'll get angry. On the third pitch, if we adjust the trajectory just slightly, we can force him into a weak infield hit. From there, it's up to our defense."

Just as planned, Tanaka hit a weak grounder and was thrown out at first base. Tojou smiled as he watched the play unfold. "Sawamura really knows his stuff."

He glanced at the dugout, locking eyes with Eijun.

They nodded to each other in silent understanding before facing the next challenge.

Despite Tojou's best efforts, the seniors managed to get three hits in the first inning, scoring two runs.

This showed the freshmen just how seriously the seniors were taking the game.

Tojou did his best to keep their hits in the infield, but the seniors' determination to score couldn't be stopped.

Diving for bases and scrambling for runs, their uniforms were already caked with dirt by the end of the first inning.

The intensity left the freshmen mentally and physically exhausted.

"Do you feel it?" Eijun asked his teammates. "This is the pressure of people with no room for retreat. Even if they're teased for treating us rookies so seriously, even if it seems childish to the alumni watching today, they refuse to give up. We have to give it our all—not just to win but to show respect to these seniors who are teaching us the first lesson of high school baseball: never give up, fight with everything you have."

As they looked back at the seniors watching them, the freshmen's eyes grew increasingly resolute.

"The rookies this year are tougher than I expected," one senior commented, noticing the freshmen's growing momentum.

"Yeah, they're not just a group of scattered individuals anymore. Their teamwork still needs work, but they're starting to form a real team."

"Looks like today's game is going to be a good one," another senior said with a grin.

"We'll have to step it up too. If we can't perform well, we'll lose the right to act like seniors in front of them."

"Let's show them how harsh high school baseball can be."

As the game progressed, both teams gave their all.

Although the freshmen managed to get a few hits off Tanba's fastballs in the first three innings, they couldn't string them together for runs.

However, they showed their worth with clean swings and solid, error-free defense.

One standout was Tojou.

Despite the pressure of giving up runs, he maintained his composure and pitched at his best to lead the team.

When Coach Kataoka finally pulled him from the mound, Tojou glanced at the scoreboard, where the score read "5." He clenched his fists. "This is my current level. This is my new starting point."

Eijun patted him on the shoulder.

Tojou looked at him and smiled.

"My performance wasn't great, but I've done my part. It's up to you now. Good luck."

"Leave it to us. Let's have a reflection meeting afterward," Eijun replied.

"Yeah, I'll count on you for that," Tojou said.

Back in the dugout, Tojou started his cooldown exercises with Kanemaru's help. As he stretched, tears began to fall.

"Tojou..." Kanemaru called softly, unsure of how to console his friend.

"It's so frustrating," Tojou said through his tears. "It's not just about losing. It's knowing that this is the extent of my current ability. We had all the senior data, Sawamura's strategy, and the support of my teammates—everything was in place. And yet, I couldn't control the game. Damn it… damn it!"

Supporting himself with his fists, his head hung low as tears streamed down his face.

At that moment, Tojou truly understood the pain of failing to meet expectations.

His game was over, but his journey was just beginning.

Today, Touou learned the harshness of high school baseball.

The pain and regret would push him to grow even stronger.

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