Believing She Has Been Reincarnated into a Baseball Game, My Little Sister Is Aiming for the Koshien, While I Give It My All to Keep Her from Finding out That It’s Actually an Ntr Game - Chapter 66

“Then, just one pitch will determine the match.”

“Alright, if I hit a home-run caliber shot, I win. If it’s anything else, you win.”

“No, actually, I win only if you miss. Anything else, and it’s Captain’s victory.”

“…Yeah, well, I’ll leave the judgment up to you this time.”

In any case, it doesn’t matter—I’m aiming for a home run. I need to show him just how much power I’ve got.

Standing on the kids’ baseball mound in the park, Nomo faces off against me from 18.44 meters away, with me holding my bat ready. Riko and Maika watch intently from the third-base bench, eyes full of anticipation. Yeah, I need to make sure they give a fair call on this one.

“Still…”

The field feels cramped. Sure, it’s plenty big for a neighborhood park, but it’s nowhere near spacious enough for a pro batter’s free-swinging practice. This area only works because elementary school kids play with soft rubber balls.

In other words, even though I bragged about launching a huge home run, realistically, hitting one here would cause more than a few problems. If I pulled one to the right 100 meters, it’d sail across the residential street and crash right into someone’s house…probably Sakuramiya’s house. Straight to center, and I’d be hitting an apartment building. Left field’s the only safe option; at least that way, the ball would land back in the park.

Yeah, left field it is…

No way he’s going to throw a pitch too close to my body, so I’m guessing it’ll be an outside pitch—a fastball at that. No way I can pull it. Guess I’ll be going for the opposite field—left field it is.

“Come at me, Nomo Makoto. I’m going to crush your best pitch.”

“Ah, it gives me chills…as expected, you’re the best! High school baseball is incredible!”

With a grin showing his white teeth, Nomo releases a strange aura from his body.

Just like the other night, and again in that warm-up catch session, Nomo’s whole form and the white ball in his right hand start to shine.

This might be his way of saying he wants a fair match, even in the darkness.

Honestly, I’m grateful. I only just realized how badly I’d messed up—it’s impossible to see the ball clearly with just moonlight and a streetlamp. No way I’d be able to hit it. What a mess.

But with this glow, I’m not at a disadvantage. I can see his arm movement and the ball clearly.

The stage is set for a true showdown.

Nomo’s face hardens as he steps onto the plate—and, in a rare move these days, he raises his arm high, steps forward with his left foot, and lets his right arm swing down in a powerful motion!

A straight pitch down the middle. He’s going for a head-on battle of strength against strength!

This is electrifying! I have to answer this challenge!

—My vision, time itself, feels like it’s moving in slow motion. That feeling that comes just a few times a year—the zone you can only enter with extreme concentration—I’ve entered it.

Though it should be a blazing fastball, the ball’s movement seems slow. Even though I’ve already started swinging, it still hasn’t reached me. It’s like it’s barely spinning…wait, what? Is it actually this slow? And is it…dropping?

I thought it was coming straight, but now it’s headed low, down to my knees…wait, no way. No way…oh, it’s real.

It’s a changeup!

The same one Nomo uses as a leftie! And this one has an even bigger drop! His arm’s moving like it’s a fastball, but the speed is way off! A batter expecting a fastball will swing early and miss as it drops hard. The kind of pitch Yogi would miss for sure!

Nomo! Read the room! Yeah, your arm movement was intense, but you tricked me with that! Sure, it’s a real match and all, but come on! The pitcher-batter mind game is the best part of baseball, but still!

Damn it, I fell for it! Completely.

But! I can’t give up! If I can just make contact and foul it off…

Letting my body flow with the pitch, I drop my back knee to the ground, extending my right arm as if to release my grip with my left—

Wait, no! I can’t just foul it! This is a one-pitch showdown! I lose if it’s not a home run! Damn, this is so unfair!

But I have to go for it. I’ll hit this one out of the park and show Riko and Maika an unmistakable victory, my ultimate moment!

“Take this!!”

Pushing through with brute force, I stretch out my right arm, scooping the ball from below, swinging with all I’ve got. Though my stance falters, I keep my core firm, sending power from my strengthened core, through my body, and into the bat—all at once. Every ounce of my baseball spirit is in this. Forget theories and techniques. None of that matters.

With pure strength, pure muscle, I smash the ball!

“Go, damn it!!”

The ball, struck with all I had, flies up at a 40-degree angle toward right field. It’s high—too high to be a home run. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t carry. At best, it’d hit the fence for a triple, maybe just a flyout.

“Please, keep going!”

Maika’s voice cries out, and as if carried by her shout, the ball doesn’t fall.

Propelled by my full-force swing, the ball climbs at incredible speed—and then.

“It’s in!! Home run, onii-san!!”

The ball crosses the field, then the road, and crashes into Sakuramiya’s family storehouse, shattering the second-floor window.

It just barely cleared the right field line, an estimated 105 meters. It’d be a homer in any pro ballpark.

And I probably broke Sakuramiya’s precious childhood memory—a window covered in her and Makoto’s old doodles. With all this reincarnation trouble, it feels like Sakuramiya’s the one getting hit the hardest. Hope she catches a break one day.

“You got me. Nice batting, Captain.”

Despite his calm tone, Nomo bites his lower lip on the mound. He’s genuinely frustrated.

Serves you right, changeup bastard.

“Of course. I don’t care how long you’ve been alive—you think I’d lose to some arm trained with old-fashioned values from the Showa era? Go back and study the latest baseball science, Nomo Makoto. I’ll be waiting for you in the pros.”

He widens his eyes at my words for a moment, but then genuinely smiles.

“You’re right. I believe that you, Captain, could shine even in professional baseball. Like Sadaharu Oh. Riko’s smile shines brightest when she’s watching you, too. I suppose it’s time to give up on making her inherit the monster’s will.”

He may be a little slow to understand things, but he’s not small-minded. That’s Nomo for you—(ex) monster and all.

At least I managed to convince Nomo. With this, most of the concerns regarding this reincarnation business should be resolved. Although, I still need to be on guard so that Yogi Souta’s side-heroine NTR subplot doesn’t accidentally happen.

“Well then, Captain. I’m going to sleep early to prepare for tomorrow. You should head home and get some rest, too. Let’s definitely win tomorrow!”

“Yeah. I trust you, underclassman.”

“Yes. It’s still too early for a generational change. We need to make it to Koshien, and I alone must return to the original world to resume my work as a monster. Later.”

With that, Nomo walks off towards his house. I see Sakuramiya running out in her loungewear, probably alarmed by the sound of the shattering window.

Come on, man. I’ve told you, there’s no way for you to go back to the original world. He never listens. I keep saying you’re stuck here, destined to live as a failed romantic comedy protagonist. If this keeps up, he’s going to turn into some naturally clueless, borderline abusive guy who even surpasses the original Yamada Kyugo. Poor Sakuramiya, she really deserves to be happy.

Well, I’ll leave Sakuramiya’s emotional support to Maika from now on. I’m too clumsy for that. I need to focus on my own life.

And my life is all about making Maika, Riko, and the kids happy.

Time to check if I’ve cleared the conditions for that.

“So, umpires. Riko, what’s the call?”

I turn to Riko and Maika, who were running over to me, and ask directly.

“Huh? Well, it’s a home run, but…”

“It was a home run, yeah, but that’s not what I mean. Do you believe me now? That you both are my number one?”

“……”

“……”

The two sisters exchange glances, their expressions somewhat awkward.

It’s like they’re silently asking each other, “Should we just read the room and say we believe him?” “Yeah, let’s go with that…”

I mean, I appreciate it, but answering like that is just kicking the can down the road…!

“Well, here’s the thing. From a team standpoint, Maika’s in the lead, and from an individual standpoint, Riko’s number one. That’s how I see it.”

Baseball is that kind of game. Team performance is just as important as individual stats. Life’s probably the same—

“That’s such twisted logic…””That’s a whole lot of mochi-mochi reasoning.”

They give me a pair of skeptical looks. It’s heartbreaking.

But what else can I do? To me, they’re both equally number one. How else am I supposed to explain that without my “mochi-mochi” logic?

Just as I was hoping for a feel-good ending, an awkward silence falls, and then Riko lights up like she had an idea.

“The world’s coolest onii-san is going to keep trying to make me his number one… Maybe it’s okay if I keep pretending that I don’t feel like I’m his number one forever. That way, onii-san will always be thinking of me as his top priority, focusing only on me, and playing baseball for my sake. Maika-chan, who’s already number one, will end up neglected. This is Riko’s curse. A mochi-mochi curse. His thoughts, his baseball—everything will be invaded by mochi-mochi! I call it the ‘Mochi-Mochi! Pretend-Not-to-Be-Number-One Grand Strategy!’ Riko will be number one by not being number one! Yep, this is better than dying or something!”

“Hey, my sister is still way too underhanded, right? I mean, doesn’t this mean I win on fair play points?”

Well, I’m glad she managed to accept it with her own brand of mochi-mochi logic.

As for Maika, well. There’s a lot to work through going forward… but we’ll make it work. She’ll come to understand that she’s the most important woman to me. Yep. I’ll make her see that!