“Batting 6th, our very own… Number 13… The Unicorn—Ken Takagi!”
The announcers excited voice called over the speakers, echoing through the arena and causing the crowd to cheer in response. Having heard the announcer speak the forbidden nickname, Ken shuddered on his way to the batters box.
‘Ignore it…’ he told himself, his eyes focused on the upcoming battle.
Ryan was standing on the mound, silently waiting for him to come up to bat. The past 2 at-bats against Ken he’d come out on top, in fact, Daichi’s hit earlier had put a stop to the perfect game Ryan had pitched thus far.
Yet judging by his body language, Ryan didn’t care at all. The only thing he was focused on was his rival Ken who was now in the batters box.
With 1 out and 1 runner on base, getting an out now was crucial to put Detroit on the back foot. Since it was Ken that he was facing, Ryan didn’t need any additional motivation to go all out.
He tossed the rosin bag around in his hand for a few moments, his eyes never leaving Ken. It was to the point where Ryan had forgotten to acknowledge the lead from his catcher.
“Time please.”
The catcher Nigel Fortes was forced to call for a timeout and speak to Ryan directly. He lifted his face mask and jogged out to the mound, his expression seeming slightly annoyed.
“I know you’re excited, but you need to focus.” Nigel said, placing his glove over his face so that the cameras couldn’t read his lips.
“I am focused.” Ryan said dismissively.
“Yeah, focused on the batter. I gave you like 3 different leads but you didn’t even acknowledge me… Keep your head in the game, we’re almost at the end.” Nigel said, turning on his heel and heading back to the plate.
He wasn’t really pissed off with Ryan, especially since he’d been playing lights out tonight. They were so close to finishing this long and tiresome game, just a single ounce of complacency would be enough to lose.
It was his job as catcher to ensure that his pitcher was doing their job.
Nigel thanked the plate umpire who restarted the game. After crouching down, he called for the first ball, one of Ryan’s slider variations.
Ryan had improved to the point where he could essentially choose which way his pitches broke. The slider could drop, or fade, depending on his grip and the throwing technique.
Developing this system had been instrumental in Ryan’s improvement these past two seasons. Not only did it allow the catcher to know what was coming, it also essentially doubled his pitching repertoire.
Ryan nodded and took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders. He brought the glove to his chest, gripping the ball within his glove tightly as his front leg rose.
His muscles exploded forth as his back leg kicked off the pitchers plate, propelling his body forward. Ryan’s cleats kicked up the dirt as his front foot planted, quickly followed by his arm whipping past his face.
The moment the ball left his fingertips, the tremendous amount of spin was evident. It glided through the air back and forth as if it was indecisive on which direction it would take.
Ken’s eyes narrowed as the ball approached, his concentration at maximum. Even with his mental capacity, it was difficult to calculate where the ball would end up.
WHOOOOOOSH
CLICK
Ken managed to clip the ball, sending it past the open catchers glove, hitting the barrier behind the field.
“Foul.”
Ken frowned, clearly not happy with his attempt at hitting the ball. He had thought he’d picked the trajectory of the ball, but it was apparent that he did not.
‘Damn it… It’s so difficult to hit them.’ Ken complained in his heart.
He wasn’t at all confident in securing a hit, let alone sending Daichi who was at 2nd base back home. Either he would need his brother to steal a base, or he would need to hit big.
Ken glanced at Daichi who was now hovering 8 feet from the bag. The guy looked like he was waiting for the right opportunity to advance.
‘If he gets to third base, I can maybe get a decent bunt in.’ Ken thought, weighing up his options.
Since coming to the Majors, he had not really had an opportunity to bunt. With the home run champion Daichi in the line up before him, he rarely got into such a situation.
The next ball came shortly after. Ken’s eyes widened and he swung hard, intending to send the ball into the stands.
WHOOOOOOSH
PAH
“Strike.”
During the swing, Ken casually tilted his body, obscuring the catchers vision with his tall frame.
“THIRD!”
Michael Rojas Miami’s shortstop yelled out, finally alerting the catcher of the stolen base attempt. Despite reacting late, Nigel shifted his body forward before throwing from a stationary position.
Ken watched as the ball flew past his head, heading directly for Leblanc on 3rd base.
Seeing this, Ken felt his jaw clench as he watched on with nervousness. Daichi was sprinting down the lane and fearlessly dove headfirst towards the base.
For a moment, time seemed to slow down. Daichi’s hand was outstretched as he went for the bag.
CRUNCH
“Argh!”
Daichi let out a cry of pain as his hand clashed with the base. He could instantly feel that something was wrong with his hand, but it didn’t prevent him from keeping contact with the base.
The 3rd baseman’s glove came down, hitting his injured hand and sending a fresh and nauseating wave of pain through his body. Daichi almost threw up on the spot.
“Safe!”
The umpire called, much to the dismay of the 3rd baseman.
However, the 3rd base coach who had heard the cry of pain quickly shot forward to check on Daichi.
“Are you okay!?” he asked, sounding slightly panicked.
Daichi shot up to his feet, forcing down the feeling of nausea that threatened to overtake him.