In the sixth inning, Kiryu’s batters struggled to adapt to Sawamura’s pitching form.
Taking advantage of that unfamiliarity, Sawamura quickly recorded a clean three-up, three-down inning.
A far more stable start than Furuya’s earlier performance.
From left field, Furuya watched as Sawamura handled Kiryu’s lineup with surprising ease.
When he returned to the dugout, dissatisfaction was clearly written across his face.
It almost felt as if invisible blue flames were burning around him.
He wanted to suppress the opposing lineup just as effortlessly.
Coach Kataoka, still focused on the field, seemed to notice his mood.
“You two have different styles,” he said calmly.
“As long as your stamina and control improve, you’ll be able to suppress Kiryu’s batting lineup too.
Most batters struggle against Sawamura’s unusual pitching form in their first encounter.
But the longer the game goes on, the more difficult it becomes for him.”
At those words, something like little flowers of encouragement seemed to bloom around Furuya’s gloomy aura.
In truth, the coach was right.
Kiryu’s lineup was widely regarded as one of the strongest in the nation—there was no way they would stay suppressed so easily.
And yet, in a sense, Sawamura right now was like a player temporarily using “cheats.”
Sawamura himself understood that clearly.
Even as fatigue crept into his body, he now had access to all of his weapons.
He also wanted to test how far he could push himself against Kiryu’s powerful batting order.
It had been a long time since he could fully unleash everything he had.
That thought alone made him feel strangely energized, even as exhaustion weighed on him.
As the game entered the second half, Kiryu’s ace finally found his rhythm as well.
Seido’s offense began to struggle, unable to break through.
In the top of the seventh inning, Kiryu’s lineup turned over to the top order—bringing even more dangerous hitters to the plate.
Miyuki immediately called for an inside cutter, showing no hesitation in challenging the batter.
Sawamura delivered.
The pitch darted sharply toward the batter’s hands.
The leadoff hitter managed only a weak ground ball, which Kuramochi cleanly fielded before firing to first.
“Out.”
The second batter stepped in carefully, refusing to swing freely.
Miyuki didn’t ease up.
“Strike.”
Clang.
“Foul.”
Clang.
“Foul.”
It quickly became clear—the batter was trying to foul off pitches and wear Sawamura down.
Miyuki clicked his tongue slightly and gave a new signal.
“No need to be polite, Sawamura.
Stick with one pitch.
Strike him out with the inside cutter.”
Sawamura nodded immediately.
The white ball left his hand, slicing straight toward the inside corner.
Clang!
“Damn it… I fell for it.”
The batter’s expression twisted the moment he made contact.
It wasn’t solid at all.
The ball rolled weakly toward the front-left of the mound.
“Out!”
“Two outs already?
Sawamura’s pretty good.”
“His rhythm is excellent.
I didn’t expect Seido to have two first-years like this this year.
This lineup feels promising.”
Spectators outside the field murmured in admiration.
Even Seido’s defense looked noticeably more relaxed compared to the first five innings behind Furuya.
The pressure that had weighed on them earlier was gone.
If not for the coach’s strict instructions, some of them might have already “talked” to Furuya about it.
Next up was the third batter—a cleanup hitter, and a left-hander.
Miyuki studied him closely.
A long swing path… waiting deep for the ball?
Against hitters like that, a dropping pitch is most effective.
“Miyuki spoke up.
‘Sawamura, show me your two-seam fastball.'”
He set his glove on the inside corner.
Sawamura smirked slightly.
“What a nasty guy… but I like it.
I’ll end this in one pitch.”
He took a deep breath and delivered an inside pitch.
The batter clearly saw it coming inside, tightened his core—and swung with full force.
The ball suddenly darted inward right in front of him.
The batter’s eyes widened—but his swing did not hesitate.
“So what if it moves?
Your pitch isn’t as heavy as that rookie’s.
Watch me send this out!”
He drove his swing down with full force.
But just as the ball entered his hitting zone, it dropped—more than half a ball’s width in an instant.
His timing shattered.
The bat slammed into nothing but air above the ball’s path, and his full power was driven straight into the ground.
“Damn it… that drop is ridiculous!” the Kiryu batter cursed.
The ball bounced weakly upward, all momentum gone.
Sawamura reacted instantly, fielding it cleanly and completing the out with ease.
In the top of the seventh inning, Sawamura faced the heart of Kiryu’s order and retired them with just seven pitches.
Kiryu’s coach narrowed his eyes from the dugout.
Coach Kataoka… I didn’t expect this to be your hidden card.
Impressive.
“Nice pitching, Sawamura.”
“Good job, Sawamura-kun.”
“Yaha!
Sawamura, did you take something?
That was amazing pitching!”
Kuramochi jumped onto Sawamura’s back, ruffling his hair aggressively.
“Hey—stop it!
You’re gonna knock me over!”
Even as he complained, Sawamura couldn’t help but think:
Why does this guy only do this to me?
If he keeps pulling my hair like this, I’m going to go bald way too early…
Back in the dugout, the coach, Chris, and Director Ota all praised Sawamura’s pitching.
Even Kawakami and Tanba nodded in agreement.
“If I were out there, I’m not sure I could’ve done the same,” Tanba admitted quietly.
Hearing all the praise, Sawamura couldn’t hide his satisfaction.
But on the other side, Kiryu’s ace quietly adjusted his mindset.
So this is Seido’s pitcher…
He stepped back onto the mound.
And then—
He unleashed his forkball.
The pitch dropped sharply, catching the second batter, Senior Ryosuke, completely off guard.
“Strikeout!”
As he headed to the on-deck circle, Ryosuke leaned toward Jun and warned quietly:
“Be careful.
His forkball is dangerous.”
Jun nodded seriously—but overcorrected.
Too focused on the forkball, he was completely beaten by three straight fastballs.
“Damn it… why is it only fastballs against me?!”
Next up was the cleanup hitter, Yuki.
But Kiryu’s ace was no longer holding back.
A sharp slider cut across the plate, forcing a harmless fly ball.
“Out!”
“Kiryu’s ace… he wasn’t serious before.”
“So they were holding back the whole time…”
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Kiryu’s momentum had fully returned.
Miyuki adjusted his catcher’s gear.
“Sawamura… looks like we’ll have to bring out a few tricks this inning.
Just a little.”
“Hurry up already.
Don’t drag it out,” Sawamura replied, already walking toward the mound.
Along the way, Masuko and Jun called out encouragement.
This inning, they would face Kiryu’s heart of the order.
At the center of it all stood Tachi Hiromi.
He stared directly at Sawamura.
So this is him…
His teammates had already shown him what kind of pitcher Sawamura was.
Now it was his turn.
As the cleanup hitter, he had to ignite Kiryu’s comeback.
Sawamura exhaled lightly as he looked back at him.
As expected of a third-year… the pressure is different.
He glanced at Miyuki’s sign and gave a small nod.
He lifted his leg—and delivered.
First pitch: inside cutter.
Clang!
“Foul!”
Tachi Hiromi barely managed to get a piece of it.
Standing in the batter’s box, he realized something immediately—
Facing Sawamura from here was nothing like watching from outside.
The ball reached his hands faster than it looked.