Under the watchful eyes of the entire stadium, Sawamura delivered his first pitch.
Thwack.
“Strike.”
The ball flew straight into Miyuki’s mitt—right down the middle.
A perfect strike.
The Yokohama High School dugout immediately erupted in frustration.
“What are you doing?
You let a straight fastball go by!”
“Were you sleeping?
You should’ve swung at that!”
But on the field, the batter’s expression was completely different.
He stared at Sawamura on the mound, confusion written across his face.
What is that delivery?
I can’t see the release point at all…
Before he could adjust—
The second pitch came.
Another fastball.
Right down the middle again.
“Damn it—don’t look down on me!”
The batter swung hard.
But he missed the sweet spot completely.
Crack!
A weak pop fly rose into the air.
“Third base!”
“Uga!”
Masuko calmly positioned himself and caught it cleanly.
“Out!”
One down.
As the batter walked back, he warned the next hitter.
“Be careful.
You can’t see his release point.
Timing is impossible.”
But the next batter only scoffed.
If timing was the problem, then he would simply wait longer and react at the last moment.
Clang!
The bat connected.
“Shortstop!”
“Ya-ha!”
Kuramochi moved smoothly, fielded the grounder, and fired it to first.
Out.
“Two outs!” Sawamura called out, raising two fingers confidently toward his teammates.
The Seidou dugout immediately erupted.
“Nice one, Sawamura!”
“Haha, don’t get cocky—you just got lucky this time!”
“Get the last out already!”
Even the cheering squad’s energy surged, their voices growing louder.
After two outs, Yokohama’s third batter finally adjusted.
He decided not to swing blindly and instead focused on observing the pitch carefully.
Miyuki noticed immediately.
“No unnecessary pitches,” he muttered.
Thwack.
“Strike.”
Thwack.
“Strike.”
Thwack.
“Strike.”
Three fastballs. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
Three strikes.
“Strikeout—batter out!
Side retired!”
In just six pitches, the inning ended.
Pop fly.
Ground out.
Strikeout.
A flawless defensive inning.
Sawamura walked off the mound having completely shut down Yokohama’s lineup.
The stadium buzzed with shock and excitement.
Back in the dugout, Coach Kataoka gave a short nod.
“Good pitching.
I’ll leave the next two innings to you as well.”
“Yes, sir!”
Kuramochi immediately came up behind him and ruffled his hair.
“You really know how to show off, huh?
Nice pitching.”
“Uga!
Sawamura-chan, good job,” Masuko added with his usual calm praise.
Sawamura scratched his head, slightly embarrassed—but clearly pleased.
“Nice pitching.”
Sawamura hadn’t expected even Captain Yuki to praise him, and he couldn’t help but break into a wide grin, showing his bright white teeth.
Miyuki immediately poured cold water on his excitement.
“Don’t get carried away.
That was just the bottom of their order.
It’s too early to celebrate.”
“I know, I know… can’t I at least smile?” Sawamura replied, visibly deflated.
Honestly, aside from when he was calling pitches, Miyuki could be really annoying.
The game continued.
Yokohama’s ace had completely settled into his rhythm.
His sharp pitching made it impossible for Seidou’s lower lineup to get anything going, and he quickly recorded three outs.
In the eighth inning, Yokohama adjusted.
Having learned from the seventh, their batters no longer swung immediately.
Instead, they carefully observed each pitch, trying to read its trajectory first.
But Miyuki remained unfazed.
If they wanted to watch, then let them watch.
He called nothing but fastballs down the middle.
And just like that, Yokohama’s top order was sent back in a clean three-up, three-down inning.
In the bottom of the eighth, Yokohama’s ace responded with full intensity.
He struck out Kuramochi, the leadoff hitter, at first base.
Then he turned his focus fully onto Seidou’s core lineup.
Kominato Ryosuke, Isashiki… both were carefully neutralized before they could reach base.
It was clear what Yokohama was aiming for—
They did not want Yuki, the cleanup hitter, stepping up with runners on base.
The game entered the final inning.
The score remained 3–6.
Seidou still trailed by three runs.
Sawamura stood on the mound.
Miyuki quietly analyzed the situation beside him.
Even if Yuki managed to get on base, scoring three runs against a pitcher of Yokohama’s caliber in a single inning would be extremely difficult.
That meant one thing.
They could not afford to allow a single run.
They had to shut this inning down cleanly—clean enough to give their offense a chance.
Without even needing to speak, both pitcher and catcher reached the same conclusion.
The crowd roared as both teams prepared for the final stretch.
Sawamura stared down the cleanup hitter.
Something about him felt different—he carried a heavier presence than the others.
Miyuki set his mitt. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Sawamura nodded.
Thwack.
“Strike.”
A low, outside moving fastball skimmed the edge of the plate.
The batter held back.
Too far outside.
Thwack.
Another pitch.
Same location.
Same movement.
The batter swung this time—
But he was late.
“Two strikes.”
The batter clicked his tongue.
Damn it… his timing is impossible to read.
His rhythm is too fast…
Is the next one outside again?
Or something else?
Before he could settle his thoughts—
Sawamura’s delivery came without hesitation.
Clean.
Sharp.
Unreadable.
But this time—
It wasn’t low and outside.
It was high and inside.
A direct attack.
“Strike!
Swing and miss—strikeout!”
The stadium exploded.
“Unbelievable!”
“This first-year… Sawamura, right?”
“Did you see that sequence?
Low outside twice, then a high inside strikeout pitch!”
“Seidou has found a real pitcher this year!”
In the stands, Kominato Haruichi looked down at the field.
“I didn’t expect Sawamura to actually get game time… and to perform this well.”
Beside him, Furuya remained silent.
But a faint, burning intensity seemed to rise from him.
Chris gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Furuya.
If your control reaches Sawamura’s level, you’ll become one of the best pitchers in the country.
Don’t rush it.
Focus on your foundation.”
Furuya nodded silently.
Chris didn’t say what he truly thought.
That in these three years, Furuya might very well be overshadowed by Sawamura.
But it was only speculation—and unnecessary pressure.
Furuya’s talent in pure velocity was still undeniable.
On the field, Yokohama’s coach clicked his tongue in frustration.
“We clearly had the advantage… so why does it feel like this?”
And then—
The final push came.
After the cleanup hitter was struck out, Yokohama’s fifth and sixth batters followed in quick succession.
Back-to-back strikeouts.
Seidou’s defense held.