Chapter 274: Strong! Very Strong! Big—Huge!!
Bottom of the First Inning – St. Dorf's Offense
In Seidou's dugout, the team was still talking about the opposing ace's pitching.
"He bounced back fast. That guy's pretty good," someone commented.
The African pitcher, Jack, had clearly been shaken earlier. Everyone assumed they'd already broken him and it would be smooth sailing from here.
But unexpectedly, Jack had quickly realized the flaws in his pitching and made the necessary adjustments—just in time to stop Masuko from blasting the ball.
"Damn, if only I'd swung a bit harder!" Masuko groaned in frustration.
He'd had the perfect chance to crush Jack and put the game away early.
Now that they'd given their opponent room to breathe again, who knew how long this match would drag on?
"Stay calm," Chris advised. "Their team's no pushover. They've played on big stages before—they're not that easy to break."
"And more importantly, their ace has real control over his tempo and angles. We'll need to be careful."
Seidou's players had already figured out Jack's weakness, but the pitcher clearly noticed too.
Now that he was adjusting his approach, hitting him wouldn't be so easy.
"Don't worry," Miyuki chimed in. "This isn't the first time we've dealt with high-angle pitches. We've got experience."
He wasn't just trying to reassure them—he was stating a fact.
They'd already faced this type of pitcher before. Their former ace, Tanba, was a textbook high-release thrower.
And so was Maki, the 190 cm tall ace from Sensen they faced earlier.
Sure, Jack's style had its own quirks, but to Seidou, it wasn't anything they hadn't seen before.
"We'll talk more about offense later. Let's hold the line for now," said Coach Kataoka, clapping to get their attention.
All eyes turned to the mound—where Sawamura stood.
Today's starting pitcher wasn't their ace, Furuya—it was the other first-year, Sawamura Eijun.
To be honest, Coach Kataoka was starting to feel a bit of regret.
Before this second-round match, they'd reviewed footage of St. Dorf's performance in the regional tournaments.
Based on that intel, they assumed the opponent's strength was nothing to worry about.
Wanting to preserve Furuya's stamina for tougher matches down the line, the coaches had decided to give him a rest.
After all, his pitching style drained him fast—and any chance to conserve his energy was worth taking.
In addition, there was another very important reason: the other pitchers on Seidou's roster also needed experience playing on the Koshien stage.
So according to the original plan, they intended for Sawamura, Kawakami, and Tanba to each pitch three innings—rotating in a relay to safely get through this game.
Barring any unexpected developments, they expected a real battle in the third round.
When that time came, their ace Furuya would return and catch the opponent completely off guard.
From an objective standpoint, Coach Kataoka and the coaching staff's strategy was completely sound.
But reality doesn't always go the way you want it to.
For example, their assessment of this opponent had turned out to be wildly inaccurate.
The strength of St. Dorf Academy far exceeded their expectations.
If only they'd started with Furuya…
That thought briefly flickered through Kataoka's mind—before he shut it down himself.
Never mind the fact that their plan had already been set. Changing course now might shake the players' confidence.
Besides, they were already up by three runs.
"Let Furuya rest. The other pitchers can carry this game too."
Kataoka reaffirmed his conviction, then turned to Sawamura.
"Don't worry about the opponent. Just pitch with your own style. If you can do that, shutting them down won't be a problem."
Hearing such trust from his coach, Sawamura's face flushed red with emotion.
"Leave it to me! I'll get it done!"
Bottom of the first inning. Seidou's starting pitcher was Sawamura Eijun.
When the announcement was made, a murmur ran through the stands.
"Wait, it's not that monster first-year?"
"I came all this way just to see his blazing fastballs!"
"This guy's a first-year too. He did well in the last game."
"Seidou's really got some luck this year…"
The fans continued to chatter and speculate.
But on Seidou's bench, the players looked calm and confident.
During the first game, they'd been understandably tense.
After all, no matter how much confidence you have, your first time standing on the Koshien field—the biggest stage in high school baseball—is going to shake you.
But now this was their second game. Their stars had already made their mark.
Naturally, the team had settled in. They weren't tense anymore.
Their demeanor was composed, but the confidence they radiated was even stronger than before—so strong it practically shone.
They quickly became the center of attention.
"This is what a top-tier powerhouse is supposed to look like!"
"St. Dorf is strong, sure—but next to Seidou? They've still got a long way to go!"
That was the talk coming from the crowd.
Meanwhile, in the St. Dorf dugout, a wicked smile returned to Mitsuki's face.
Truthfully, after that brutal first inning—especially going up against this Seidou lineup—
he was more than a little nervous.
He could clearly feel just how powerful this opponent truly was.
Although Mitsuki had faith in his own players, after seeing what Furuya was capable of earlier, he couldn't help but question it.
Trailing by three runs... can we really make a comeback?
As a manager, this was his most rational judgment.
In a matchup between elite teams like these, even a single mistake could spell defeat.
And they'd already given up three runs from the very start—
a deficit that could very well be fatal.
But now, Mitsuki saw a glimmer of hope.
And that hope came from one thing: their opponent had underestimated them.
"Heh... what a golden opportunity. Don't waste it," he said with a thin smile.
But all of the St. Dorf players could sense it clearly—
their manager wasn't the least bit amused.
If they didn't deliver in the coming innings, their lives were going to get very difficult.
"Leave it to us, Coach Mitsuki! Just a rookie first-year? We'll take him down in no time."
Their leadoff batter was a Latino player named Damiel.
He was tall, lean, and lightning-quick. His movements were sharp, and his eyes gleamed with determination.
Rather than a traditional baseball player, he gave off the aura of a fighter in the ring.
"Go get 'em, Damiel."
As soon as Damiel stepped into the batter's box, he assumed a bunting stance—regardless of what kind of pitch Sawamura might throw.
In the Seidou dugout, several players frowned.
That's unexpected.
"No runners on base, and this is his first pitch…"
"He's probably a speed type, just like Kuramochi."
It was a natural conclusion.
Unless a batter had absolute confidence in his speed, this kind of play made no sense.
On the mound, Sawamura wasn't pitching at Koshien for the first time— but still, he could feel his heart racing.
Back in his debut game, he'd been in a daze the entire time. He hadn't even had time to think— and ironically, that was probably why he'd pitched so well.
But this time was different.
The opponent wasn't ordinary.
And his mindset had changed.
No matter how hard he tried to stay focused, distracting thoughts kept popping up in his head.
Damn it—shut up already!
He shook his head furiously, trying to push away the noise.
Then he refocused, eyes locking onto the batter.
Behind him were his upperclassmen— dependable and strong. He knew that better than anyone.
Don't overthink it. Just focus on your style and give it your all, like Coach Kataoka said...
Regrounded in his purpose, Sawamura took a deep breath and unleashed the pitch.
His arm snapped like a whip.
In the batter's box, Damiel's eyes lit up.
Whoa—amazing!
From that angle, he couldn't see the release point at all!
By the time he realized what was happening, the white ball had already blown past him.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
As the ball hit the glove, Damiel had already pulled his bat back.
"Nice pitch!"
"That monster first-year may be stronger, but you're doing great too!"
The cheers from the stands were genuine.
Watching Sawamura pitch wasn't as viscerally thrilling as watching Furuya's blazing fastballs, sure—
but still, fans couldn't help but admit it was a pleasure in its own right.
Even the women in the stands seemed drawn to the elegance of his style.
Meanwhile, in the St. Dorf dugout, Mitsuki's devilish grin only grew more pronounced.
"Laugh while you can... the harder you laugh now, the harder you'll cry later."
Sawamura fired off his second pitch quickly—
his rhythm and mechanics smooth and sharp.
Whoosh!
In the batter's box, Damiel smirked.
"You've definitely been well-trained, I'll give you that."
"Pop"
"Strike two!"
Two quick strikes— it looked like Seidou had complete control of the at-bat.
To everyone watching, it seemed only a matter of time before this batter would be sent packing.
But crouched behind the plate, Miyuki frowned.
Something about St. Dorf's leadoff hitter wasn't sitting right with him.
Yes, Sawamura's pitching had been sharp, but not flawless.
Based on Damiel's stance and timing, he definitely had a chance to at least make contact— yet he hadn't even moved his bat.
No way. Something's off.
Though he couldn't read Damiel's mind, Miyuki's instincts screamed: danger.
He's planning something.
"Third pitch—make it a ball," Miyuki signaled coolly.
If the batter was hiding something, this was their chance to bait it out.
If not, the fourth pitch would end it.
Sawamura, though puzzled, trusted Miyuki completely.
He nodded and wound up for the pitch.
"Whoosh!"
The pitch looked just as sharp as the previous two.
In the dugout and stands, Seidou supporters were already gearing up to celebrate.
They fully expected a strikeout to end this.
Then—Damiel moved.
He swung.
Miyuki's eyes narrowed.
There it is. He's making a move.
Luckily, the pitch was well outside—he couldn't possibly reach it.
This would be an easy strikeout.
But Damiel wasn't done yet.
As he realized his bat wouldn't reach, he adjusted—
switching from a two-handed grip to a one-handed swing, using a wild but practiced motion to extend the bat's reach just enough.
"Clink!"
Contact.
Somehow, the ball stayed fair and skipped toward the infield.
"What?!"
The entire crowd was stunned.
Even Seidou's infielders froze for half a second—
no one had expected that kind of unorthodox hit.
By the time they scrambled to react, the ball was already bouncing away.
And just like that—Damiel was tearing down the baseline like a Latino hurricane.
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