Chapter 337: A Terrifying Level of Athleticism
After Tetsu was walked, the spectators noticed the opponent's subdued atmosphere and calm, focused eyes. Seeing their fighting spirit, the crowd stopped booing them.
After watching Koshien for so many years, the audience could understand every team's desire to win.
"Sixth batter! Third baseman, Masuko!"
"Go, Masuko-senpai!"
"Hit it!"
…
"In recent games… aside from bunts, I haven't been able to keep the momentum going. I can't complain about losing my spot in the heart of the lineup, but I don't want things to stay like this either. I got a hit today, but that's not enough!" Masuko stared at the bat he held in front of him with both hands, feeling unwilling to accept it.
"Aim… first pitch!"
"For this batter, we can let Ino adjust a bit. It's fine if it's slightly off the zone! Here we go!"
"Yeah! We… want to win!!!"
"Fwoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Aim… first pitch!"
"Ping!"
"He hit it! Seidou's Masuko connects with the first pitch—a low outside fastball just off the zone! It's going… it's gone! Home run! Following the cleanup hitter's grand slam, the sixth batter blasts a two-run homer!!! Seidou's lineup explodes!!!"
"Yoshiiiii!!!"
"Ahhhh!!!"
"Ohhhh!!!"
"Masuko-senpai!!!"
"Ahhhh!!! Masuko!!!" Sawamura almost rushed out, but Miyauchi-senpai held him back.
"Yoshi yoshi yoshi! Yoshi yoshi yoshi!" However, one person from the bench did rush out—and no one could stop him!
"Ahhhh!!! That was my line!" Sawamura stared in disbelief at the emotionally overwhelmed Ota manager.
"Seidou High adds two more runs! 9–0!!!"
"No way…"
Ino stared blankly at the scoreboard.
That large "7" under the bottom of the sixth inning was painfully glaring.
"So this is Nationals…!"
"So this is… Koshien!" Ino muttered repeatedly. He finally understood the harsh reality—of Koshien itself.
But—
"Even so! Even if no matter how hard we try we can't win, I refuse to go down in disgrace! I absolutely refuse!!!"
With tears in his eyes, Ino fixed his gaze firmly on the mound.
Shiraha, who had been hesitating about calling time, froze for a moment.
He hadn't dared to call a timeout earlier, worried that anything said might backfire—but Ino had pulled himself together again.
"…Alright. Sorry! No timeout needed!" Shiraha apologized to the umpire and crouched back down.
Masuko had already completed his trot and high-fived his teammates.
"Seventh batter! Catcher, Miyuki!"
"I've got to keep this momentum going too!" Miyuki swaggered up to the plate. (From Sendo's point of view, it looked ridiculously flashy.)
On the bench, Sendo rested his chin on his palm, stroking it lightly with a mischievous expression as he watched Miyuki's back.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Pop!"
"Ha! Line drive to shortstop!"
"…!"
"Damn it, Miyuki Kazuya! Don't waste opportunities like that! Though I know you can't hit when the bases are empty!" Sawamura shouted wildly, looking like he wanted to rush out and hoist him up.
But Miyauchi-senpai firmly restrained him.
"Oh?" Sendo's eyes curved into a smile as he watched Miyuki return. Even thick-skinned as Miyuki was, he looked a bit embarrassed.
That turnaround had been way too fast.
The inning had started with Miyuki—and ended with Miyuki.
"With this lead, they probably won't pull Sawamura yet, right?" Sendo glanced at Miyuki, then shifted his gaze to Coach Kataoka.
After saying that, Sendo glanced at Kominato Haruichi.
He figured that if Sawamura pitched one more inning, Haruichi could pinch-hit in the next.
Coach Kataoka had no reason not to make use of this advantage.
"Thud!"
"Hm?" Suddenly, Sendo felt something on his head. It was Isashiki-senpai placing his glove there.
"Got it." Sendo replied and stood up.
"Top of the seventh! Yokohama Kouhoku's offense!Second batter! Center fielder, Sunami!"
"The score gap's big enough! Go all out!
Really swing that arm!"
"Fwoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
"Fwoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Ku! Ku!"
"Pop!"
"Out!"
The sharply hit ball was tracked down instantly by Sendo, who leapt and snatched it out of the air!
"Yoshi! Yoshi yoshi!"
"Stop yelling one by one!"
"Damn it!" Sunami, who had charged too hard and stumbled, grabbed a fistful of dirt.
"One out!"
"One out!!!"
With a huge lead, Seidou's momentum was already at its peak. This out only fueled it further.
"Third batter! Shortstop, Kajiyama!"
"I absolutely… have to get on base!" Kajiyama stepped up with a fierce expression.
Miyuki glanced at him sideways.
"Whoosh!"
"Crack!"
"Onii-san!"
"Pop!"
"Out!"
Miyuki used his impatience against him, inducing a routine grounder with a cutter.
Just three pitches—two outs.
"How many pitches?" Coach Kataoka asked.
"Exactly 25."
Kataoka looked slightly surprised. Four innings with fewer pitches than Furuya's three. For Sawamura, that wasn't even a warm-up. (Super efficient.)
"Get ready! You're going in next inning." After a brief moment of thought, Kataoka decided to make a change next inning.
In the shadows behind him stood Haruichi, adjusting his glove, helmet already on.
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
This time, Yokohama Kouhoku's cleanup hitter was stubborn. He moved up in the box, choking up on the bat, clearly determined to get on base at any cost.
Kataoka was using this as an opportunity to test Sawamura—how would he handle a batter dead set on reaching base?
At this point, the suspense of the game had mostly vanished. More than eighty percent—Seidou had it in hand.
With half a month of rest after reaching Koshien, Tanba—whose control had fully stabilized—was now worthy of the ace number for a powerhouse school.
Seidou's pitching staff was overflowing with depth.
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Ball!"
"Phew…" Sawamura gently blew the rosin from his hand, staring intently at the batter.
He knew his own shortcomings well. As a pitcher whose inside pitches weren't always precise, he was deeply grateful for Coach Kataoka's trust and cherished every opportunity, treating each batter seriously.
"Fwoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Thunk!"
"It drops! Cleanup hitter Furano gets on base!!!"
"Yoshiiii!!! Yoshi yoshi! Yoshi!"
Furano celebrated wildly at first base as if he'd hit a home run.
But no one laughed at the baseball boy. Anyone who had watched the game knew how hard-earned that hit was.
No one watching a matchup between powerhouse schools could have imagined it would turn out like this.
One side couldn't buy a hit, while the other—if not for their ace's iron will—would've already shattered mentally.
The entire nation witnessed it: this was the ferocious offense of a team that hadn't reached Koshien in six years.
Like a wild beast, they had finally broken free from West Tokyo.
More and more spectators found themselves wondering what West Tokyo had become this year.
A powerhouse capable of crushing nationally top-tier schools like this had actually failed to reach Koshien for six straight years.
Even if you excluded the so-called "Super Diamond Generation" the commentators mentioned—players they themselves didn't fully understand—the lineup made up of second- and third-years alone was incredibly strong.
Sure, Seidou hadn't scored much earlier in the game. But after watching baseball for so many years, the audience could tell that Yokohama's battery had exhausted every possible strategy just to barely suppress this lineup—and even then, they had no real answer for Tetsu.
Quite a few spectators were already planning to visit Tokyo in the fall to watch the regional tournament.
Well… even if it was mainly to see Sendo and Furuya… (That's the real point, right!!!)
"Fifth batter! Third baseman!"
After the cleanup hitter finished celebrating on base, it was finally the next batter's turn.
"Even if the pitch looks sweet, as long as I swing all the way through, that's enough! Don't think about anything—just throw it. Leave the rest to me and the defense behind you!"
On base, Furano began edging off first. Sawamura shot him a glare, and he didn't dare stray too far.
A left-handed pitcher is terrifying for a runner on first.
"Clack!" Sawamura lifted his leg, the sound of sand scraping against his spikes.
"Phew!" As he stepped forward—
"Steal!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
Sawamura didn't react at all to the steal attempt call.
He trusted his defense completely, his eyes filled with unwavering determination.
Back at first, Furano realized that fake steal attempts couldn't rattle this pitcher—but he didn't dare attempt a real steal either.
Not just anyone could challenge Miyuki's cannon arm, especially not in combination with a left-handed pitcher who could hold runners with nothing but a glance.
Feeling the combined gaze from the mound and home plate, Furano truly didn't dare move. (That kind of tacit understanding.)
It wasn't that he didn't want to fight. Fake steals didn't work, and a real one meant certain death.
Sensing that the runner had understood his predicament under his "death glare," Miyuki withdrew his gaze with satisfaction. (It was kind of cute, honestly.)
"Nice ball!" Miyuki stood and returned the ball.
"Still a very hittable pitch, though," he admitted to himself after crouching again.
The batter had clearly been testing whether the pitcher would be distracted, so he didn't swing—essentially gifting Seidou a strike.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"He's got him cornered!" Every Seidou supporter felt it at once.
"Last pitch! Right here!" After giving the sign, Miyuki stood as Sawamura began his motion.
He tried to bait the batter with a high hanging pitch.
"Fwoosh!"
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"It drops!"
Right between first and second—landing perfectly between the fielders.
"Yoshiii!!!"
Ugly as it was, Yokohama managed two messy hits and put two runners on.
That alone was enough to excite them—they had finally seen the dawn of base hits.
And with such a big lead, Seidou wouldn't easily pull this pitcher. That meant they might have a chance to claw back some runs this inning… maybe.
"Lucky, sure—but the pitches are still hittable. Sawamura's not as sharp as expected today. There's no way that earlier incident didn't affect him," Miyuki thought before ultimately letting it go.
He knew Sawamura sometimes acted like an idiot to cover things up.
Though… he was kind of an idiot to begin with.
"Don't try to show off, Furuya!!! This isn't your time!" Sawamura pointed toward left field, yelling at Furuya, who was wildly swinging his right arm, asserting his ownership of the mound.
"Take a deep breath! Deep breath!"
"Your eyes are turning into cat eyes! Get it together!"
The cheering section responded with relentless teasing.
This idiot really gives people heart attacks…
"Sixth batter! Left fielder, Komura!"
"Ping!"
"He swings at the first pitch! That's deep!"
"Huh…?" Sawamura turned around with exaggerated shock.
"Ku! Ku! Ku! Ku! Ku!"
"Pop!"
A white streak cut across the vast outfield, completing yet another personal highlight.
The two Yokohama runners, their base coaches, and the batter all stared at the number 8 on Sendo's back as if trying to burn a hole through it—and through the person wearing it. (Laser vision, basically.)
"Pfft!" Sendo landed gracefully like a gymnast.
"Out!"
"Three outs! Side retired!"
"Yoshi! Yoshi yoshi! Yoshi! Yoshi yoshi! Sendo!!!
You really love me, don't you?!" Sawamura shouted toward center field, completely forgetting it was time to switch sides.
"Seidou High's first-year center fielder shows unbelievable speed! An incredible fine play to secure that crucial out! Now everyone understands why Sendo is the core of Seidou's outfield—the man who protects center field! Incredible athleticism, unbelievable judgment—this is a complete and utter monster!!!" The commentator lavished praise on the casually jogging Sendo as he returned to the dugout.
And no one thought it was exaggeration.
"That man… really is a monster."
Every spectator in the stadium—and every scouting team—believed it.
Some even had a question:
Was that guy in Seidou's number 8 uniform actually human?
Aside from his face and appearance, nothing about his athletic ability looked human.
On the big screen, Sendo's smiling face sent chills down scouts' spines.
The audience, meanwhile, just screamed—because, well, he was handsome.
Unlike a certain spring tournament champion pitcher from some school—no girls asked him for autographs.
Nice personality, sure.
Just… tragically unfortunate looks.
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