Seido had racked up eight hits and seven runs in just three innings.
It hadn't directly broken Manaka, but a pitcher who has given up that many runs will find it very difficult to stabilize the situation afterward.
At that point, all of Seido's supporters, including Kameshima on commentary, believed Seido would soon push past ten runs.
Kameshima, of course, had been badly embarrassed earlier when he predicted Miyuki would squeeze bunt. His current prediction was noticeably less confident. He only said that Seido should be able to keep scoring.
It was a safe judgment, and hard to argue with. As a game progresses, the more pitches a pitcher throws, the more his stamina becomes a factor. Beyond stamina, the longer he pitches, the more hitters adjust to him.
From the hitters' side, the opposite is true. A few at-bats aren't enough to drain them physically, and as the game goes on, they grow more and more familiar with what the pitcher is throwing. Especially deep into a game, the pitcher's stuff tends to fall off.
By any measure, that logic was sound.
What actually happened on the field, however, embarrassed Kameshima again.
First, Tanba woke up.
After the opening barrage, Tanba settled completely and began pitching in an extraordinary state. He gave up some hits, but he never let a runner cross home plate.
No runs in the second inning.
No runs in the third.
No runs in the fourth.
No runs in the fifth.
On the giant LCD screen at Jingu Stadium, Tanba's line was enough to stun the entire stadium. Aside from the three runs surrendered at the start, he had not given up a single run from the second inning through the fifth.
Four consecutive zeros on the board.
Manaka matched him, and then some.
While Tanba had given up a few hits along the way, Manaka gave up almost nothing. From the fourth inning through the sixth, he surrendered zero runs and only one hit. Masuko Toru was the lone bright spot for Seido, picking up a hit in the sixth. Everyone else, Yuuki, Zhang Han, all of them, were retired when they came up for the third time. The defense and some luck played a part, but the greatest credit belonged to Manaka Kaname.
He was making his low-angle slider look untouchable.
To recap the scoring: Seido had put up five runs in the first inning and two in the third. Ichidaisan Third High School had scored three runs in the first. Then, in the bottom of the sixth, they forced one more run across on a walk, though Tanba shut the door on the hitters that followed.
By the end of the sixth inning, both teams had exactly nine hits.
The score stood at 7 to 4.
The fans in the stands were stunned. Were the pitchers on both sides really that good?
It wasn't just the spectators. The players themselves were bewildered.
Ichidaisan Third High School took it somewhat in stride. They believed in their ace. Manaka had carried them through countless tough games before. But the Seido players were a different story. Their own ace had suddenly become this reliable, and they weren't quite sure what to do with that.
The strength Tanba had shown in this game left his teammates genuinely impressed. Even the run he gave up in the sixth didn't change that.
When Tanba came back to the dugout after the sixth, he was visibly winded. He had only pitched six innings, but his pitch count had already cleared one hundred. Coach Kataoka's expression had not softened into a smile, but it was no longer as hard as it had been at the start.
"The rhythm is pretty good today. Keep it up."
Hearing those words from his coach, Tanba felt a jolt of energy run through him.
"Let Kawakami handle the rest. Get some rest."
Tanba was a little disappointed.
Top of the seventh inning. Seido's offense.
Their fourth time up to bat in today's game.
Tanba sat in the dugout and stared out at Manaka Kaname, who was still on the mound. Tanba's own pitch count had just cleared one hundred. Manaka's had already exceeded one hundred and twenty. And yet, after absorbing that brutal first three innings, Manaka was still out there pitching with full force.
Even now, Manaka was still ahead of him. Still making him watch his back.
Tanba clenched his fists.
In less than three months, it would be their final summer showdown. By then, he had to.
"Ping!"
An infield hit, not pretty but it counted. Kuramochi sprinted to first base.
"Alright!"
He pumped his fist from the bag.
No outs, runner on first.
It wasn't a clean hit, but compared to his anonymity in the previous innings, Kuramochi had taken a real step forward today.
"Kuramochi is a Leopard!"
A voice cut through the stands. Kuramochi turned his head and spotted a figure waving wildly. He couldn't make out the face clearly, but he knew exactly who it was.
"This guy."
In the seventh inning, Seido's hitters finally began finding Manaka. The pitcher who had seemed untouchable started to show cracks.
The next man to step into the batter's box squinted and grinned as he looked out at Manaka.
His last encounter with Manaka had been a disaster. He had been struck out cleanly. And it was from that at-bat, Kominato Ryosuke's out, that Seido's hitters had lost the rhythm they'd built at the start of the game. What followed was a string of outs. Luck seemed to favor the other side too. Zhang Han's ball to the outfield was caught. Yuuki's line drive to third was blocked by a body.
Not a single hit.
Now the tables had turned.
Kominato Ryosuke's face broke into a wide smile as he looked out at Manaka.
They say it's impolite not to return a favor.
"Next, let me bully you too!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"Foul!"
"Foul."
Manaka's pitch count had already been past one hundred and twenty when Kuramochi came up. By the time Kominato Ryosuke stepped in and began fouling pitch after pitch off, this formidable pitcher was finally starting to crack.
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