No outs, runner on first.
Top of the eighth inning. Inashiro Industrial's offense began without warning.
As soon as a batter reached base, Coach Kunimoto immediately sent Carlos—the player with African ancestry—to first as a pinch-runner.
Carlos didn't just inherit dark skin. He inherited terrifying athletic ability as well.
Not only Zhang Han and Miyuki, who had both witnessed Carlos's performance during their junior high days, but even the rest of Seido High School Baseball Team clearly understood one thing.
This player's speed was monstrous.
Coach Kunimoto was in charge of a powerhouse like Inashiro Industrial. Over the years, he had seen countless talented players.
Even now, although Inashiro's first-string lineup wasn't quite as strong as Seido or Ichidai Third High School, that situation was extremely rare.
And even in this rare case, Inashiro's reserve players were still stronger than those of the other two powerhouses.
Their foundation was the deepest in all of Tokyo.
No other team could compare in that regard.
Inashiro Industrial's dominance over the past two years wasn't due solely to Coach Kunimoto's leadership. Their abundance of reserve talent was just as important.
Carlos was one of the best examples.
The pressure created by such a player standing on base was enormous.
Hidezawa's stamina was nearly depleted. He was now pitching purely on willpower.
He knew his own condition better than anyone.
Unless absolutely necessary, he wanted to focus solely on the batter.
But now, he couldn't concentrate at all.
That little black guy on first was practically bullying him.
How far was he leading off?
Hidezawa felt it had to be at least eight zhang.
The runner's actions screamed mockery.
You can't do it.
If you've got the guts, throw a pickoff.
Even if I lead this far, you don't dare.
No—worse than that.
It's not that you don't dare. It's that you can't.
Those thoughts replayed endlessly in Hidezawa's mind like a looping film.
"That's too much!"
Hidezawa had never been a calm-tempered person. Being provoked like this, there was no way he could ignore it.
He threw a pickoff attempt with fierce resolve.
He knew the chances of actually getting the runner were slim. After all, this was a player Coach Kunimoto trusted enough to send out at such a moment.
Carlos's exaggerated lead had been deliberate provocation.
Hidezawa understood that.
But understanding didn't mean enduring it.
He had to act.
He didn't expect to get the out. As long as he could make Carlos cautious and stop him from leading off so far, it would be enough.
But even that small wish was denied.
The instant Hidezawa made his move, Carlos dove back.
Not only was he fast, his reactions were lightning-quick. Before the ball even returned, his hand was already firmly on first base.
When Yuuki Tetsuya caught the ball, he glanced sideways. Carlos's hand had been on the bag for who knows how long.
This guy is way too fast.
After that exchange, Carlos became even bolder.
His lead grew longer than before.
And this wasn't a bluff.
It wasn't an exaggerated lead meant to intimidate.
Carlos had already proven it with his ability. Even from that distance, he could still make it back safely.
"That dark-skinned kid is impressive!"
"Don't call him that, how rude. That's Carlos. He was already famous back in junior high."
On the mound, Hidezawa was suffering.
Trying to pick Carlos off would drain his stamina and disrupt his pitching rhythm.
But not picking him off was even worse. That massive lead was infuriating.
Right at this critical moment, Miyuki, crouched behind the plate, signaled decisively.
"Give me the ball."
Don't worry about the runner. Leave him to me.
With the catcher stepping up, a huge burden lifted from Hidezawa's shoulders.
At this point, he could only focus on pitching.
Even if—
"Whoosh!"
The ball left his hand.
On first base, Carlos acted with absolute confidence.
The moment Hidezawa released the ball, Carlos took off.
His timing was perfect.
So perfect that many spectators didn't even realize what had happened at first.
When they did, the stands erupted.
"So fast!"
"Way too fast!"
"That's 100-meter sprint speed!"
"Not even 100 meters—more like 30!"
Carlos felt like he was flying. A steal like that was bound to draw gasps.
But while Carlos was fast, someone else was faster. The instant Miyuki saw Carlos break, he adjusted his stance.
Even in his exhausted state, Hidezawa reacted instantly, altering the pitch just enough to prevent the batter from making contact.
"Thwack…"
The ball smacked cleanly into Miyuki's glove.
Miyuki sprang up in one smooth motion and fired the ball.
Straight to second base. The speed of the throw exceeded even the pitch itself.
Carlos was fast, but he was still human. How could he outrun a baseball, especially one thrown by Miyuki?
"Whoosh—"
The ball cut through the air like a laser, crossing tens of meters in an instant and arriving at second base.
Miyuki Kazuya's reaction speed and precision stunned everyone watching. Reporters and ordinary fans alike were glued to the play at second.
Carlos.
Miyuki Kazuya.
Though both were only first-year players, the level of their duel was unquestionably top-tier high school baseball.
Two geniuses, each dominant in their own domain.
But the question remained, Could anyone keep up with their pace?
Tanaka at second base rushed back as fast as he could, but it was too late.
Was this incredible showdown about to be ruined by a moment of miscoordination?
Just then, a figure appeared out of nowhere.
A glove snapped shut.
"Thwack!"
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