“Batter swings and misses—three outs!
Switch sides!”
The umpire’s voice rang out, and the stadium immediately erupted into cheers.
“Nice pitch, Sawamura!”
“Seidou High School!
Turn it around!”
The atmosphere was electric.
Everyone was waiting for a comeback in the bottom of the ninth inning.
After all, this kind of dramatic finish was exactly what made Koshien baseball so exciting.
For the spectators, it didn’t matter who won.
As long as the game was thrilling.
Back in the dugout, Sawamura was still being praised from all sides.
After all, as a first-year stepping onto such a big stage for the first time, his performance had exceeded all expectations.
“Only one half-inning left.
The gap is three runs,” Coach Kataoka said firmly.
“Give it everything you have.”
“Yes, sir!”
The players responded as one and rushed onto the field with renewed energy, determined to attack Yokohama one last time.
Sawamura glanced toward the field, a thought flashing through his mind.
In his previous life, Seidou had lost this game 5–6.
Now that he had become part of the equation, he wondered—
Would the ending change this time?
In the end, however, the result remained the same.
The final batter hit a ball that was cleanly caught in the outfield glove.
“Game set!”
The scoreboard froze at 5–6.
Seidou High School had lost by a single run.
Sawamura wasn’t particularly surprised.
Instead, he quietly exhaled in relief.
It seemed that even with his presence, the “butterfly effect” was still limited at this stage.
Even in defeat, however, one thing was certain.
The name Sawamura Eijun, the first-year pitcher, became widely known throughout the Kanto region.
After all, Seidou’s batting lineup was already feared nationwide.
For them to rely on a first-year pitcher in such a critical situation was enough to draw attention.
And more importantly—Seidou had long been searching for a pitcher capable of stabilizing their games.
After the match, daily training resumed.
But now, more and more people began showing up at Seidou High School just to watch.
Most of them headed straight for the bullpen.
“Hey, where’s Sawamura?
I don’t see him in the bullpen.
Tanba looks sharp though.”
“He’s over there doing stretching exercises at the training field.”
So they even have a sidearm-type pitcher like that?
Their pitching depth is serious…”
A loyal Seidou supporter crossed his arms and nodded proudly.
“That’s right.
A powerful batting lineup, a deep pitching staff… and if they can add a truly stable ace, then dominating the nation won’t just be a dream anymore.”
After the Kanto Tournament ended, there were no official games for a while.
During this period, teams often arranged practice matches to adjust form, test strategies, and maintain rhythm.
Seidou was no exception.
With school still in session, most practice games were scheduled on weekends.
This weekend, they had two matches lined up.
One was the first string against Teito High School from East Tokyo.
The other was the second string against Komadai High School.
For the first string game:
Sawamura would start on the mound.
Kawakami would handle middle relief.
Tanba would close the game.
Each pitcher would throw three innings.
For the second string game:
Furuya would take the mound as the starter, with pitching changes depending on game flow.
The announcement immediately energized the entire team.
And Sawamura was no exception.
Since it was only a practice game, both sides would hold back parts of their arsenal.
After discussing with Miyuki, Sawamura decided on his approach:
He would rely primarily on his moving fastball for the three innings, mixing in only a few four-seam fastballs for variation.
It was a defense-oriented strategy.
Not flashy—but efficient.
At Seidou, that was not a problem.
The tempo would be fast, pitch counts would be low, and the defense could settle into rhythm quickly.
It wasn’t the most entertaining style to watch…
But it was effective.
On Saturday, Sawamura started for the first string.
He pitched three scoreless innings—no walks, two hits allowed, and only 19 pitches in total.
After him, Kawakami gave up one run, and Tanba closed the game without allowing any further damage, securing the victory.
Meanwhile, the second string game had also ended.
Furuya, as the starter, completely overwhelmed everyone watching.
The sound of the ball exploding into Chris’s mitt echoed through the field, each pitch carrying overwhelming power.
Under Chris’s guidance, Furuya’s command had improved slightly—still a bit high at times, but most of his pitches now consistently entered the strike zone.
And because he hadn’t pitched freely in an official setting for a long time, he went all out from the very first inning.
Every out he recorded came via strikeout.
By the end of five innings, he had already collected 14 strikeouts.
That absurd number caused scouts from other schools to scramble in their notebooks, furiously recording Furuya Satoru’s name.
The remaining four innings were handled by other pitchers, and Seidou went on to win the game.
And as Sawamura listened, he quietly realized something.
With Chris guiding him, Furuya was finally able to consistently pitch within the strike zone.
Although his pitches still lacked fine control and couldn’t yet target tricky corners, the improvement was already significant compared to the past timeline.
Sawamura estimated that if Furuya kept pitching like this in future second-string games, promotion to the first string would only be a matter of time.
And then, as expected, the coach made a decision.
But it was slightly different from what Sawamura had anticipated.
From then on, whenever Furuya pitched in second-string games, Miyuki would be assigned as his catcher.
Watching Furuya dominate on the mound, Sawamura felt a faint, complicated bitterness rise in his chest.
Of all the regrets from his past life, his high school baseball career was the deepest.
In his first year, a hit-by-pitch had abruptly ended the third-years’ summer.
In his second year, he had finally become the ace—but an injury that lingered for decades followed.
After that, the ace number was no longer his.
It belonged to Furuya Satoru.
And he had become nothing more than a middle reliever.
Looking back, he could only admit one thing—
He had been far too careless back then.
He didn’t know if it was coincidence… or something like fate responding to his thoughts.
But after Miyuki was temporarily moved to the second string to form a battery with Furuya, Coach Kataoka brought Chris up to the first string.
Sawamura was genuinely happy.
And that happiness was noticed immediately by Chris, the catcher.
Though he didn’t understand why this first-year junior was so pleased, he didn’t dislike it either.
Perhaps it was that bright, straightforward smile.
In the following days of practice, Sawamura used every opportunity he could to stick close to Chris.
Chris didn’t show any impatience.
Instead, he quietly observed Sawamura’s pitching during practice, making small adjustments in his mind—but ultimately found nothing wrong that needed correction.
After several sessions, even Chris couldn’t help but think:
This pitcher… is already surprisingly complete.
Perhaps among all the pitchers at Seidou right now, Sawamura was the most stable one.
“The day after tomorrow is the game against Kurotsuchikan,” Chris said calmly.
“As planned, the first five innings will be Furuya with Miyuki.
The last four innings will be you and me.”
“Yes!” Sawamura responded immediately, eyes bright.
“I’ll definitely coordinate well with you, Chris-senpai!”
Chris smiled slightly.
Then, after a pause, he added—
“Sawamura… this will be my last game arranged by the coach.”
“…Huh?” Sawamura froze.
“I thought you’d be returning to the first string.”
Chris gently ruffled his hair.
“I understand my condition better than anyone.
Even after this, I won’t be able to stay on the field much longer.”
He smiled faintly.
“So do your best.
That’s enough.”