Chapter 326: Sawamura Takes the Mound
"Foul!"
Before the umpire's call rang out, the entire stadium had gone silent. Tens of thousands of people were holding their breath.
"Just… just barely to the right!!! My god—he actually hit it into the third deck! Pulling an outside curveball—and it was a ball—all the way to the stands…!!!" the commentator shouted in disbelief.
"Whoa!!"
The supporters of Yokohama Kouhoku Academy, their bench, and even the players on the field—even the buck-toothed head coach—were terrified.
The moment they realized it was foul, they all let out a long breath and collapsed onto the bench.
There wasn't a single person who didn't break into a cold sweat.
If that ball had stayed fair, it would've been 5–0.
They still hadn't gotten a single hit off that flamethrower, had drawn only one walk, and now their ace already looked on the verge of collapsing. It was terrifying.
"Ah! What a waste!!!"
On Seido's side, plenty of people were clutching their heads in frustration.
That ball had missed by just a few dozen centimeters!
"Heh… seriously… just how do you even do that?" Kataoka muttered with a smile.
"How do you take a pitch that's practically guaranteed to be way out of fair territory the moment it leaves the hand, and drive it into the stands—that close to staying fair?"
It was the same tone he'd once used when talking about how Sawamura had thrown that curve nearly ninety meters.
"Tch…" Sendo dragged out the sound playfully.
The only ones who got to see that cute side of Sendo were the catcher Shiraha and the home plate umpire.
But Shiraha didn't find it cute at all.
To him, Sendo was a demon.
Smiling calmly—yet just a hair away from blowing the game wide open.
The moment Sendo's bat flashed down like a streak of white light, only one thought crossed Shiraha's mind:
"So long… How is his bat that long?"
He had never seen anyone with such an absurd wingspan and a bat that long—someone who could still pull a pitch back from that location.
And the worst part?
Inside pitches—the supposed counter to long-armed hitters—didn't work either.
"Is this guy… even human?" Shiraha muttered inwardly.
There was nothing wrong with the pitch sequence.
An inside pitch to make Sendo feel the danger.
Then an outside ball, deliberately off the plate, to stretch his reach.
Then a slower outside curveball to steal a strike—or, if lucky, an out.
It perfectly exploited Sendo's habit of swinging at balls and the pitcher's strengths.
They did get the second strike.
But they nearly lost their hearts in the process.
Just look at Ino—his eyes were practically bulging as he took deep breaths.
The count was now two strikes, one ball.
Yet no one felt relieved. No one dared comfort Ino.
That pitch had been too terrifying.
It felt like they were the ones being cornered.
"What a shame! To think such an incredible batter exists!"
"Exactly. That pitch was practically unhittable. Even a pro would've let it go without Sendo's physical build and that extra-long bat. Anyone else would've barely clipped it with the bat's tip and pushed it foul down left field—no way to pull it. But Sendo used his body perfectly and almost pulled it fair to left. What a monstrous swing!"
The commentators didn't care about Yokohama Kouhoku's feelings.
Their job was to hype the spectacle—what else were they supposed to do?
"The pitcher's scared! Hit it, Sendo!"
Sawamura—freshly freed from Jun's iron grip—was back at it again.
A classic case of healed wounds, forgotten pain.
Shorter memory than a goldfish.
And worse, he was saying it with a straight face.
Ino wasn't scared—he was just shaken and under immense pressure.
(Which, to Sawamura, clearly counted as being scared.)
As a third-year, in his final summer, on the Koshien stage—fear wasn't something that came easily.
At that moment, Shiraha flashed the sign.
Ino saw it—
And smiled.
"Life and death—this pitch decides it."
"Let's go."
"If we get through this, we'll turn it around!"
"We believe in our ace!"
"Whoosh!"
"Another inside fastball off the plate—no, wait…!"
Chris realized as the pitch began to sink.
"He'll swing. This is the out pitch."
"Boom!"
"PING!!"
The ball screamed back even faster than it came.
SMACK!!!
"Huh—!"
Every grand declaration was drowned out by those two explosive sounds.
The ball went straight into the second baseman's glove—
Then popped right back out.
It looked almost as if the glove had been punched through.
Infield gloves are smaller than outfield ones, but even so, balls hit so hard they can't be secured are rare.
At least—that's how it looked.
In reality, it wasn't that the ball was too strong to catch—it was simply too fast.
The second baseman didn't have time to close his glove.
Still, the power was undeniable.
"Damn it…" Sendo muttered.
My luck's bad today.
The second baseman froze for a split second, then scooped up the ball and fired it to first.
Sendo had seen the hesitation—so had the entire stadium—but he knew better.
There was no way to beat it out.
With two outs, even if Kuramochi scored, it wouldn't count unless Sendo reached first.
"Smack!"
"Out!"
"Three outs—change sides!"
"Ahh, so close!"
"That was dangerous! What is with that batter?! Is he really a first-year?!"
Seido's inning ended in dramatic fashion.
But Yokohama Kouhoku couldn't feel relieved at all.
"Seido was unlucky there. If that ball hadn't gone straight into the glove, Yokohama would've given up at least two runs. And don't forget—Yuki was up next."
"Exactly. That at-bat really showed how terrifying Sendo is. He's not inferior to Sano from Seiho at all. Honestly, you'd never guess he's a first-year. I almost feel sorry for the players who have to compete in the same era as him."
To compete on the same stage as a monster like that for three whole years!
...
Tetsu and Isashiki stepped forward, intending to comfort their underclassman.
"B—Sorry!" Sendo said as he returned to the bench, sticking his tongue out playfully at the two of them.
"Seriously… we were worried about you for nothing," Isashiki said, exasperated. "Looks like you're totally fine."
"Don't worry about it. It was just bad luck," Tetsu said in his usual straightforward way. "You already beat him—twice."
"Boom!!!"
"Tetsu! Can't you tell? This guy doesn't care at all!" Isashiki snapped. "And rein in that aura of yours!"
"I know."
"Huh?" Now it was Isashiki who didn't get it.
"I just guessed the pitch, that's all. But I didn't hit it cleanly," Sendo said casually. "Otherwise it wouldn't have been that easy an out."
"You were sitting on it? The last two pitches?" Tetsu raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah. I figured they wouldn't throw anything easy, so I tried guessing. Especially the last one—the pitcher looked way too confident. The splitter was obvious. I guessed right… just didn't hit it well."
With that, Sendo walked back to the bench.
"…Yeah, definitely not the same dimension," Isashiki muttered. "Mind games like that really aren't my thing."
"Well, bad luck is bad luck. Just get them next at-bat!" Sawamura continued playing his role as the overexcited cheer captain.
"Alright, how long are you planning to stand around here?" Sendo said, smacking Sawamura on the head with his big hand and pushing his cap down over his eyes. "Aren't you pitching this inning?"
"Huh? Oh—right!" Sawamura had completely forgotten.
"How bad is your memory, seriously?" Sendo said helplessly, shaking his head as he walked into the dugout and started removing his gear. Teammates offered words of encouragement.
"Seidō High School substitution announcement!
Left fielder Itai is out, Sawamura is in! Pitcher: Sawamura! Batting eighth: Pitcher Sawamura!
Furuya moves to left field!"
"What? A pitching change already? It's only the third inning! Even if they're saving stamina for later, isn't this too early? He hasn't even thrown forty pitches!"
"He moved to left field, so he could come back later."
"The new pitcher's a first-year too!"
"Seriously? Guess that really is the so-called Super Diamond Generation!"
The crowd buzzed. Most Koshien spectators didn't watch regional qualifiers, but with the commentators repeatedly calling Seido's freshmen the "Super Diamond Generation," there wasn't much doubt anymore.
After all, Furuya and Sendo had already shown what they could do—and Yokohama Kouhoku had been completely helpless against them.
The roster showed four first-years on Seido's team. Even if the two on the bench weren't as good as the starters, they were still exciting prospects.
The crowd loved stories like this.
For Yokohama Kouhoku, though, it was bad news. Their pitcher had just started finding his rhythm—and now Seidonchanged pitchers.
And Sawamura's pitching form was… strange. You only really understood it from the batter's box. Anyone who'd watched game footage knew that—after all, he was the pitcher who had shut down Inashiro.
Even if the buck-toothed coach hadn't shown the team that footage, he knew. Sawamura had also been one of the three main pitchers against Sensen.
So Yokohama Kouhoku was conflicted. This guy might not even finish an inning—and Seido could still send out another pitcher.
That was the worst part about having so many reliable arms. Other teams might have substitutes, but rarely ones you could truly trust—mentally and technically.
In the regional qualifiers, there's no constant relaying, so backup pitchers barely get chances. Not like Seido, where injuries forced two first-years to grow fast—especially mentally. They were already used to big-game pressure.
Sawamura ran toward the mound, grinning wide and flashing his neat row of white teeth, while Yokohama's coach was still contemplating life—or rather, how to score.
After warming up with Miyuki on the mound, Sawamura began taking exaggerated deep breaths.
"Inhale… exhale…!"
It was like he wanted to suck in every bit of air from the Koshien mound, letting his lungs memorize it.
"Inhale… exhale…! No matter who the opponent is!
No matter where we play! We believe in our baseball!!!
I'll make them keep hitting it! Defense—everyone… I'm counting on you!!!"
"Hah…" Sendo smiled like a proud dad. It reminded him of middle school—of the moment he decided to follow Sawamura to Seido.
And at the same time, he was excited to see how Sawamura had grown—what kind of pitcher he'd become.
"Yeah!!!" Kuramochi was the first to respond, shouting encouragement.
"I'll allow two runs. More than that and I'll kill you," Jun said viciously, as usual. "Pitch carefully and take them down one by one!"
"Pitch carefully, Sawamura-kun!"
"One at a time—we're ahead," Tetsu and Masuko added gently.
"Want to take one more deep breath?" Ryousuke asked in a dangerous tone.
Sawamura immediately obeyed and took another.
"Hahaha! That kid's got some spirit!"
"Spirit's a good thing!"
"Good luck, energetic kid!"
Even the spectators laughed kindly.
Miyuki naturally set his mitt on the inside corner.
Yokohama's buck-toothed coach had based their strategy meeting on the Senzen game, claiming Seido's current form was too good to use as reference. That meeting had mentioned Sawamura's outside pitches—so Yokohama was wary of the low outside corner.
Miyuki didn't know that, but his thinking was still sound. No matter how they learned it, the opponent knew Sawamura could throw low and outside—but they didn't know it was still unstable.
The mind games between both sides had already played out countless times before the game even started. The actual match was just where information got corrected, hidden, or exploited.
Baseball's mental load—especially at this level—was so intense it barely felt like a sport anymore. More like chess.
That's why, for most players, the coach made decisions and they just executed. All they had to remember were signs, instructions, and opponent tendencies.
But to players like Miyuki, Sendo, and Chris—
Baseball was a completely different game.
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