Shirakawa just didn't like Miyuki.
But no matter how much he disliked him, Miyuki Kazuya's skills were undeniable. Shirakawa had to admit that this guy was a standout no matter the time or place.
"Hmph!"
Shirakawa coldly snorted and ignored Miyuki's extended thumbs-up.
Hoshida too was surprised, but he was smiling good-heartedly at Miyuki.
The two had known each other since middle school, and at that time, they were both famous.
One was a rare catcher genius, while the other was a powerful batter.
Who would have thought that in just three short years, there would be such a drastic change?
Today's Miyuki was no longer the same. He had stood at the top twice in a row, and professional media outlets regarded him as the best high school catcher in the country.
The number one in the nation!
What an eye-catching title, shining brightly even from a distance.
It was hard to imagine that the Coach, Kunitomo, would not use a catcher like Miyuki and instead allowed Inui from Teitou High to become the team's captain.
Of course, Hoshida was not the complicated type, he could never understand Coach Kunitomo's predicament.
Coach Kunitomo had no bias against Miyuki. If possible, he would have liked Miyuki to be the captain of the team.
But there was nothing he could do…
On the surface, this team was selected from the entire Tokyo region, but the strongest players mostly came from the western part of Tokyo.
Coach Kunitomo tried to avoid pairing players from the same region together.
He didn't want to influence the players in a bad way due to his coaching.
However, his good intentions were not easily understood by many at the moment.
Meanwhile, at second base, a figure was standing close to Sawamura, eyeing him with a hawk-like gaze.
This player was unfamiliar to Sawamura. However, given that he was here, it was clear that his skills must be exceptional.
At least, he had caught Coach Kunitomo's eye.
"Hello!"
Sawamura greeted him politely.
And he received a wide smile in return.
"I know that this shouldn't be your main position, but you are good at fielding, right? There is no need to be nervous."
The player was very stocky, creating a stark contrast to the second baseman of the Seidou baseball team.
His cheerful demeanor made him nice to look at.
His attitude was also kind, showing signs of friendliness toward Sawamura.
"Thanks! I am Sawamura Eijun by the way?"
Sawamura smiled, and while it was rude as the guy should have introduced his name yesterday, Sawamura didn't remember him.
The boy, though the question was a bit impolite, still answered the question honestly.
"Kawabata, Kawabata Masanori."
Sawamura nodded at Kawabata as a greeting.
Whoosh!
At second base, the distance to the batter is very short.
The ball can reach you in less than a second.
In such a brief period, the window of fielders is extremely limited.
If the fielder is caught off guard or makes a mistake…
It's nearly impossible to stop the ball.
The ball was coming at high speed and landed in a tricky spot.
The players practicing batting were clearly not playing fair. They were using all their tricks to make the fielders mess up.
They couldn't be blamed for that—after all, they were directly competing with the fielders.
It was understandable that they were going all out.
"Damn, that is unfair!"
Kawabata smiled bitterly.
Stopping this ball wouldn't have been easy.
Adding to that Sawamura is not in his main position, he couldn't possibly stop it in time.
Even if he managed to touch the ball with his mitt, it would likely just bounce off.
There was no way to stop it.
But Sawamura hadn't planned to catch the ball directly.
As he leaped into the air, he already calculated the trajectory.
With the top of his mitt, he made a sweeping motion to knock the ball, and although it appeared aimless, it was an amazing coincidence that the ball landed exactly where the shortstop, Shirakawa, was standing.
'How could Shirakawa be there?'
Kawabata's eyes widened in disbelief.
He couldn't understand why Shirakawa was not at his usual position but had instead appeared where the ball bounced.
Whether it made sense or not, Shirakawa had suddenly shown up, catching the ball that Sawamura had knocked.
Without changing his stance, Shirakawa smoothly transferred the ball to his mitt and then threw it to first base.
Whoosh!
The series of movements happened so fast, it was like lightning.
Miyuki Kazuya had already arrived at first base and caught the ball with ease.
Snap!
It all happened in a flash.
The entire field was stunned.
Especially the players from the Inashiro Industrial High School baseball team on Field B.
"A-Amazing!"
"I thought this ball would definitely be a hit!"
"Right?"
"I thought so too!"
They were all staring, their faces filled with shock.
One of them even nudged his teammate and teased him.
"As a fellow second baseman, how do you feel right now as a key player from Inajitsu?"
Sawamura and Shirakawa's cooperation was truly breathtaking.
It was hard to believe they were working together for the first time.
It felt like they had worked together countless times before.
Sawamura gave Shirakawa a thumbs-up as he got up.
Shirakawa's expression stiffened, and he turned his head, unwilling to make eye contact with Sawamura.
But he still returned a thumbs-up.
The most shocked person on the field wasn't Kawabata, who was in the same position as Sawamura.
It was Shirakawa, who had worked with Sawamura for the first time.
Outside the field, Coach Kunitomo crossed his arms and muttered.
"As expected, gold will shine no matter where it is!"
As an excellent shortstop, Shirakawa's eyes never left the baseball.
From the start, Shirakawa judged the ball's landing spot and believed it was impossible to intercept.
He had full confidence in his judgment.
After all, Sawamura wasn't the type of player with explosive speed. Even if Sawamura had been prepared, he shouldn't have been able to intercept that ball.
Then, to Shirakawa's astonishment, Sawamura charged forward without hesitation.
At that moment, Shirakawa thought Sawamura's actions were reckless.
There was no way he could intercept that ball—unless he collaborated with Shirakawa.
This thought had just crossed Shirakawa's mind when his body instinctively reacted.
During this process, every movement by Sawamura Eijun seemed to guide Shirakawa's actions.
Following Sawamura's positioning, Shirakawa automatically adjusted to the optimal spot to catch the ball.
Even after reaching that spot, Shirakawa didn't believe the ball would come to him. He even felt his own actions were foolish—why had he rushed over so impulsively?
Was Sawamura really going to pull off a miraculous comeback at this moment?
That would be absurd, wouldn't it?
Then Shirakawa witnessed an unbelievable scene. It was as if the two of them had rehearsed this play hundreds of times. Every move Sawamura made matched Shirakawa's expectations perfectly.
With no time to catch the ball conventionally, Sawamura forcefully deflected the ball with his mitt.
The ball flew directly toward Shirakawa's position.
What followed felt natural.
Shirakawa had performed similar plays countless times before, so this one was effortless.
He caught the ball with ease and threw it to first base.
Miyuki, with his sharp game sense, caught the ball in time.
It wasn't until this sequence of events concluded that Shirakawa realized something profound:
Without even noticing, he had integrated seamlessly into Seidou High's defensive system.
This realization made Shirakawa feel a sense of self-loathing.
As a rival from the same region, how could he allow himself to be so compatible with their play?
But as a teammate, the sense of collaboration had been undeniably satisfying.
Shirakawa even found himself captivated by it.
"When they're opponents, these guys are monstrous and difficult to deal with. But as teammates, they couldn't be more reliable."
That was what Shirakawa thought at the time.
Of course, he would never admit this to Miyuki or Sawamura.
This was destined to remain his secret.
But among the experts present, none were blind to what happened.
The perfect collaboration between Sawamura and Shirakawa didn't escape anyone's notice.
Even among these prodigies, there were some gritted teeth.
They had to admit that Sawamura, a year younger than most of them, was unquestionably more exceptional than the majority of the players present.
"Hoshida, move to the outfield! Yamaoka, take first base!"
After observing a few plays, Coach Kunitomo revealed his expertise.
With his sharp eye, it was clear who had the necessary skills and who fell short.
He adjusted the positions immediately, giving players a chance to adapt to new roles.
"But Hoshida is an infielder!"
The President of Inajitsu's baseball team, who worked closely with Coach Kunitomo, voiced his confusion.
Even if they were shifting positions, there didn't seem to be a need for such an adjustment.
At this point, Coach Kunitomo revealed his true thoughts.
"It'd be a waste to bench so many cleanup hitters from powerhouse schools."
His ultimate goal was to maximize the use of strong hitters.
After this explanation, everyone understood.
'No wonder he assigned Sawamura to second base.'
As Seidou High's third batter, Sawamura's offensive ability was undeniable.
His on-base percentage was the highest among all currently present players.
Considering the extensive number of games Seidou had played, the large sample size made this statistic even more remarkable.
The sheer terror of Sawamura's abilities was difficult to comprehend.
Even without considering his pitching, Sawamura's offensive prowess alone made it hard to bench him.
From this perspective, it was clear Coach Kunitomo had been planning this for a long time.
He and Coach Kataoka of Seidou High clearly shared the same philosophy: keep Sawamura on the field as much as possible.
As long as he was on the field, the team had an insurance policy.
"You really know how to get the most out of everything," the Inajitsu President remarked with admiration.
"This is called maximizing potential and talent," Kunitomo replied with a smirk, cracking his neck audibly.
Standing there, Coach Kunitomo radiated an extraordinary charisma.
Whether as a coach or a player, personal charisma matters, and Coach Kunitomo, being one of the best baseball coaches nationwide, had it in spades.
The Inajitsu President couldn't help but feel admiration and respect for him.
Defensive drills are fundamental, testing individual players' abilities.
Despite the reputation of the Tokyo region's elite players, there were significant differences in skill among them.
The most eye-catching, of course, was the Seidou High duo: Miyuki Kazuya and Sawamura Eijun.
As Seidou's Ace pitcher and catcher, they were the backbone of the best high school team in the country.
Both had already reached the pinnacle of their respective positions nationwide.
It's often said that mastering one specialty can take you far. Miyuki and Sawamura were living proof, holding the two most crucial roles on a team.
Logically, they shouldn't have had much time to practice other positions.
Yet, both excelled in their new roles.
Miyuki thrived at first base, compensating for any technical gaps with his sharp game sense.
Sawamura, on the other hand, relied on his wealth of experience.
No matter the ball, Sawamura always had a way to handle it.
Under his influence, the team's overall defensive flexibility significantly improved.
If Miyuki's strength lay in-game sense, Sawamura's lay in experience and technique.
Although their approaches differed, both delivered equally impressive results.
However, not all players adapted well to their new positions.
For instance, Ugumori's Umemiya struggled, making mistakes even in the outfield.
Faced with this, Coach Kunitomo had no choice but to abandon the idea of using him outside his usual pitching role.
Compared to all-around talents like Sawamura and Miyuki, the gap was substantial.
Soon, the defensive drills concluded.
Coach Kunitomo now had a clear idea of which players would be indispensable starters and which would serve as substitutes.
Of course, defense wasn't the sole determinant.
Offensive capabilities were equally crucial.
Next came batting practice.
To save time, Coach Kunitomo brought in Inajitsu's backup pitchers for practice.
With a large number of players, the batting rotation was quick.
Meanwhile, an assistant recorded each player's performance: how many points for an infield hit? How many for an outfield hit? And how many for a home run?
The total score would determine the batting order.
To ensure fairness, players also practiced using pitching machines, each getting at least five turns.
When the results came in, even Coach Kunitomo was stunned.
The assistant coach and Inajitsu President also peeked at the results, only to be equally dumbfounded.
Five turns, 13 points—a full two points ahead of second place.
Such a score demanded everyone's attention.
And the name of that player made them shocked even more.
…