Standing in the batter’s box, Sawamura faced Kawakami on the mound.
In his previous life, Kawakami was known as Seido High School’s “Guardian Deity.”
His control was exceptional.
With Sawamura’s batting ability from his past life, he normally had no chance against him.
So he had prepared for this.
He had spent a long time analyzing Kawakami’s pitching and developed a batting style based on his own greatest strength—
The bunt.
I’ll let Senior Kawakami taste this today, Sawamura thought, a faint, confident smile appearing on his face.
Kawakami went into his set position and delivered the first pitch.
An outside slider.
Sawamura did not swing immediately.
He tracked the ball all the way to the final moment, then lightly tapped it with controlled timing—redirecting the force instead of overpowering it.
The ball rolled softly along the ground like a perfectly placed bunt.
Sawamura immediately dropped his bat and sprinted toward first base.
The ball rolled toward the foul line.
The catcher shouted for the third baseman not to touch it, hoping it would drift foul.
Everyone on the sideline thought the same.
It’s going foul.
A wasted attempt.
A harmless out.
But the ball had its own idea.
It stopped exactly on the line.
Perfectly fair.
“Wha—?!”
For a moment, the field froze.
Sawamura had already crossed safely to second base.
“Luck…?
That just stopped on the line?”
“That kind of bunt… was that intentional?”
Even the spectators couldn’t quite process what they had just seen.
For the first time, the first-years had a runner in scoring position.
The bench immediately came alive.
Hope returned.
But reality quickly crushed it again.
Under Kawakami’s precise control, the next batters were handled efficiently.
One out… two outs…
Before long, it became two outs with Sawamura still stranded on second base.
At that moment, Furuya stood up from the bench.
“I’m leaving.”
Everyone turned toward him.
“Excuse me.
There’s nothing left for me to do here.
I’ll go start my own training.”
A freshman protested, asking how he could just walk away while the game was still going.
Furuya didn’t respond.
He simply slung his bag over his shoulder and walked off.
The catcher on the field frowned and looked toward Coach Kataoka.
“Coach, is that allowed?”
“It’s fine,” Kataoka replied calmly.
“It’ll be over in another inning anyway.”
“Not staying until the end, little monster?” Miyuki’s voice came from the side as Furuya passed by.
“The game is already over,” Furuya said flatly.
And in a way—
It did feel that way.
Sawamura was on second base, but there was no one left who could bring him home.
But then—
A voice echoed across the field.
“It’s not over yet!”
“The real game starts after two outs!
Everyone, don’t give up—we can still score!”
His shout cut through the tense atmosphere.
And immediately after—
The next batter panicked so badly he literally ran off toward the restroom.
The bench fell into chaos.
No one knew who would step up next.
Then—
A calm voice spoke.
“May I ask… what are you all here for?”
A pink-haired boy stepped forward.
“If you can’t perform, then no matter how good your junior high records were, they mean nothing here.
Face reality.”
Silence.
He rested a wooden bat on someone’s shoulder.
“If no one is going to hit… then I will.”
He picked up his cap.
And walked out.
“I’m requesting a substitution.
Pinch hitter.”
The crowd outside laughed.
“One guy leaves mid-game and another sub himself in?
These freshmen are wild.”
Miyuki watched with interest.
“Another interesting one showed up.”
On the field, the pink-haired boy bowed slightly.
“Please take care of me.”
Then he immediately signaled toward second base.
Sawamura froze for a moment—
Then nodded.
This time, their timing matched perfectly.
From the sidelines, people began whispering.
“When did they coordinate signals?”
Sawamura looked at the batter.
Kominato Haruichi…
A future top-tier hitter.
Even in his past life, this guy was dangerous.
But now—
He was on his side.
Kominato tightened his grip on the bat.
Sawamura studied him quickly.
Outside pitch won’t work… so he’s looking inside?
Inside the lounge, Director Ota turned to Takashima Rei.
“What’s this student’s name?
Did he show anything during tryouts?”
Takashima flipped through her record book.
“Kominato Haruichi.
From Kanagawa Sunshine Junior High.”
“…And his batting average?”
“.635.”
“…What did you say?”
While Director Ota was still processing the information, Kawakami delivered the first pitch.
An outside pitch.
The moment the ball left his hand, Kominato Haruichi subtly adjusted his grip, extending it slightly on the bat.
Got it.
First pitch outside—standard pattern.
They were testing him.
Too bad.
CRACK!
A clean hit—driving the ball deep into the outfield.
An extra-base hit.
Sawamura had already started running the moment the pitch was released.
By the time the ball touched down, he had already rounded third base and was sprinting toward home.
“Don’t underestimate me, you first-years!”
The right fielder charged in, scooped up the ball, and fired it toward home plate.
A strong throw—clean and fast.
But it was already too late.
Sawamura slid in.
“Safe!”
Coach Kataoka extended both arms horizontally.
“OOOOH!
We finally got a run!”
“Yes!
A run!
We scored!”
“Nice play!”
The stadium erupted.
Not just the spectators—but even the managers on the sidelines were cheering loudly.
The first-year bench, which had been heavy and silent moments ago, suddenly came alive.
Energy returned.
After scoring, Sawamura jogged back to the dugout, grinning.
“We got one run!
We can definitely get another one off the seniors!”
“…Oh.”
The first-years responded in scattered, uncertain voices—but their expressions had clearly changed.
The tension had loosened.
Hope had returned.
The third out came quickly after that.
And just like that, the inning ended.
Top of the seventh.
Coach Kataoka turned to Sawamura.
“The seventh inning is the last one.
Sawamura—you’re up.”
As Sawamura walked out to warm up with Kariba Wataru—
A loud voice suddenly boomed across the field.
“HEY!
WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
SCORE TWO HUNDRED RUNS!”
Isashiki Jun’s shout echoed violently.
“Jun-san… two hundred is a bit much,” Kuramochi said with a laugh nearby.
“This is embarrassing,” muttered a squinty-eyed boy who resembled Kominato Haruichi.
“Let me in!
I’ll crush them all!” Isashiki Jun shouted again, trying to rush the field—but Kuramochi grabbed him immediately.
“No way!
You just finished weight training!”
Senior Yuki sighed and stepped in.
“Calm down.
Just watch.”
He pointed toward the field.
“That guy over there is the one who got hit for a home run by Azuma-senpai last year.”
“But he was still scouted by Takashima Rei.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“That means… he’s not ordinary.”
Isashiki clicked his tongue, arms crossed, but finally stopped struggling.
He stared at the field.
Waiting.
To see what kind of player Sawamura Eijun really was.