Today’s result…
Sawamura knew it clearly—it wasn’t as simple as it looked.
He had only gotten through because the innings were short, and because his unusual pitching form had disrupted the opponents’ timing.
That was why they hadn’t fully adjusted yet.
But if the game went longer, things would be different.
Hits would increase.
Runs would inevitably follow.
That night, lying in bed, his body aching from accumulated fatigue, Sawamura quietly reflected on his pitching.
His talent came from his natural flexibility and unique body control—but that same flexibility also limited his raw power.
He could never become a power pitcher like Furuya.
And because of that, improving his fastball velocity would also take time.
Right now, based on their current level…
He was ahead.
But not for long.
By the time they became second-years…
His fastball might reach around 140 km/h.
But Furuya’s would likely surpass 150 km/h.
Even with perfect control, the difference between a 140 km/h fastball with command and a 150 km/h monster fastball was undeniable.
And then there was batting.
That gap was even worse.
By that time, the coach wouldn’t even need to think about who was ahead physically.
A bitter smile formed on Sawamura’s face.
How did I ever think I could compete with Furuya for the ace position…?
But there was no point comparing raw power.
Since his velocity and physical growth couldn’t change overnight—and his current pitching arsenal was already close to its limit based on his past-life knowledge…
Then he would simply refine what he had.
Furuya’s style was overwhelming power—fastballs that crushed hitters.
His own style was different.
Control, deception, and disruption.
Defense first.
Outs by structure.
In his past life, he had seen teams succeed with this exact philosophy.
Now that he had been reborn into this world…
He would push that style to its absolute limit.
And with that thought, Sawamura drifted off to sleep almost instantly.
He never realized that at the same time—
Furuya was also awake.
Thinking.
The loss from the daytime game weighed heavily on him.
He had given up eleven runs in the first five innings.
And yet…
After Sawamura took the mound, Kiryu’s powerful lineup had been completely shut down.
Furuya replayed it in his mind again and again.
Sawamura’s calm expression on the mound.
No panic.
No fatigue.
Just batter after batter being retired.
Especially in the eighth inning—
Even from the field, he could sense it clearly.
Miyuki was enjoying it.
No—he was excited.
That fact stung more than anything else.
He clenched his fist slightly in the darkness.
His next steps were clear.
Stamina.
Control.
And consistency.
That night, two first-year pitchers slept under the same roof.
Each carrying their own frustration.
Each moving forward in their own way.
Outside, Miyuki and Kuramochi had just finished extra batting practice and were walking back to the dorms.
“How was it, catching Sawamura today?” Kuramochi asked casually.
Miyuki smiled slightly.
“…I was excited.”
Kuramochi glanced at him.
“That’s rare.
You don’t praise people like that easily.”
Miyuki shrugged.
“It might be strange to say this… but compared to Furuya’s fastball, I prefer Sawamura’s style.”
“Control, bold attack, and unpredictability… that kind of pitcher lets a catcher think more.”
Kuramochi let out a low whistle.
“You really are a catcher, huh, Miyuki.”
“Haha… I wonder who’ll end up with the ace number once the seniors graduate.
That’s going to be interesting.”
Miyuki’s true nature slipped out in a quiet laugh.
Kuramochi glanced at him, then thought of Sawamura from the day before on the mound.
Honestly, it was still hard to imagine him becoming Seido’s ace.
But one thing was certain—
As long as I’m behind him, I won’t let a single ball get through.
“Hey, Miyuki… does Tanba hate you?” Kuramochi asked casually.
Miyuki tilted his head slightly.
“You noticed that, huh.”
He shrugged, expression calm but unbothered.
“But that’s exactly why we’re a battery.
Seniority doesn’t matter.
If I can make the pitcher shine on the mound, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
A faint pause.
“Even if I have to lie… or be hated for it.
I don’t care.”
Under the dim night sky, moonlight stretched their shadows long as they walked back together.
The next day—Sunday.
It was a double-header.
In the morning practice game, Kawakami took the mound against Inashiro.
“Inashiro and Ichidai Sankou have basically dominated Koshien spots for the last five years…”
“Looking at this game, it doesn’t look like that’ll change this year either,” a spectator muttered outside the field.
“Don’t say that.
The two first-years from yesterday were pretty good.
Especially that Sawamura kid who came in during the second half.”
“Come on, they’re still first-years.
If you want to go to Koshien, those two schools are basically walls you can’t climb.
Practice games are different from the real thing anyway.”
On the field, Kawakami was struggling to hold on.
Even though both teams were using their second-string lineups, Inashiro’s depth in batting strength was overwhelming.
Kawakami’s naturally careful pitching style began to crack under the pressure.
Coach Kataoka stood quietly on the sideline. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
He showed no sign of pulling him out.
It was clear—
He wanted to see if Kawakami could finish it himself.
Sawamura watched the Inashiro uniforms across the field.
A faint tremor ran through his chest.
Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel it—
That hit-by-pitch from the final game.
But not this time.
If I’m on that mound again… I won’t let them do it twice.
He exhaled slowly.
Now wasn’t the time for emotion.
He forced himself to calm down.
On the field, Miyauchi walked up to the mound.
He struck an exaggerated “Black Tiger Heart-Piercing” pose.
A strange tension instantly filled the air.
Even Inashiro’s players stiffened.
“…Seido’s catcher is way too intense.”
“No wonder he’s Miyuki’s backup.”
Kawakami, visibly flustered, raised a hand slightly.
“…Senpai, could you maybe let go now?
This is embarrassing…”
Miyauchi froze, then calmly returned to his position.
He signaled the next pitch.
Even though Miyuki and Tanba were designated as the main battery for summer, Miyauchi didn’t look discouraged.
He wouldn’t accept being a backup easily.
He wasn’t going to give up.
Not like this.
I can feel it… Miyauchi-senpai’s fighting spirit.
Kawakami steadied his breathing.
He stepped off slightly, then delivered.
The ball shot straight into Miyuki’s mitt.
“Strike!”
“Ooooh!
Outside corner!
Kawakami’s pitching is coming back!”
“Nice pitch!
Show them your presence!”
“Let’s go, A-Nori!
We’ve got your back!”
Cheers erupted from Seido’s bench.
Inashiro’s coach, Kunitomo, observed silently.
No expression on his face.
But his voice was calm and firm.
“At a time like this, they’re still able to lift each other up.”
“They’re well-trained.
We can’t underestimate them this year.”
The practice game eventually ended.
Both teams lined up and bowed.
Back in the dugout, Sawamura was helping pack up equipment when Kuramochi walked over.
“Don’t forget—everyone’s watching Inashiro vs Shuuhoku later.”
“Got it,” Sawamura replied.
He slung his bag over his shoulder.
And just as he turned—
Something shifted in the air.