When Sawamura Eijun awkwardly trudged off the batter’s box, red-faced and embarrassed… the field around him erupted in good-natured laughter.
Everyone was quietly commenting on his recent blunder.
Well, for the spectators, a bit of comic relief was actually quite entertaining.
The first-year players, newly equipped and back on the field, weren’t exactly entering a blissful period.
After conceding a run in the bottom of the fourth, they still optimistically believed the situation might improve in the following innings.
However, the second- and third-year upperclassmen were about to give them a solid lesson.
Regaining their form quickly, the upperclassmen in the bottom of the fifth reminded the first-years exactly what high school baseball was.
Especially under the right field antics of that cheerful, clueless guy, the hits kept piling up!
Just at the start of the bottom of the fifth, two runs were already lost—another nightmare seemed to be beginning.
The only small consolation was that the first-years’ fighting spirit seemed to be returning.
Gritting their teeth and cooperating, even after the upperclassmen scored those two runs, the first-years managed to claim an out.
At least it wasn’t another avalanche like the bottom of the third!
Coach Kataoka barely nodded, imperceptibly.
Perhaps he was quietly pleased that the freshmen had regained some of their fighting spirit.
Of course, no one else noticed.
As always, his face remained icy and unreadable.
Yet the effect of the freshmen’s spirit wasn’t particularly significant.
After managing an out thanks to a fluke, they struggled increasingly against the upperclassmen, who were steadily regaining form and showcasing their true strength.
In the blink of an eye, the bases were loaded again!
“Huff… huff…” The first-year pitcher on the mound gasped for breath, drenched in sweat.
It was only his second inning on the field, but he seemed to have reached his physical and mental limits.
“Time!
Pitcher change!” Kataoka’s eyes scanned the field.
A thought struck him—this was a perfect test situation.
Conceding two runs with the bases loaded, it would be interesting to see how this kid would perform.
This was the ultimate challenge for a pitcher!
“Move to right field!
Right fielder Sawamura Eijun, switch to pitcher!” Kataoka’s voice rang across the field.
Eijun, originally sweating buckets in right field and worrying about catching balls, froze instinctively.
Huh?
Me?
On the mound?
If this had happened at the very start, he would have sprinted to the mound without hesitation.
But after everything that had just happened, hearing this now made him question if he had misheard.
“Sawamura Eijun!
Quickly!
To the mound!” When Kataoka’s cold, commanding voice rang again, Eijun shivered—now he knew he hadn’t misheard.
Instantly, he felt every pore in his body open up!
Adrenaline surged!
Excitement bubbled up uncontrollably!
Finally… finally, he was stepping onto the pitcher’s mound!
“So it’s finally his turn?” Miyuki glanced with interest.
He had already seen Eijun pitch, but given the scene and everything that had passed over the last six months, he was curious to see what kind of pitches the boy would throw now.
“Eijun’s pitching now, huh?” Kanzaki Yuto murmured from left field.
“Looks like this inning’s about set… bases loaded, huh.” It wasn’t that Kanzaki Yuto underestimated the upperclassmen or that Eijun’s pitching was inherently terrifying.
It was just that, generally speaking, a first-time batter seeing Eijun’s pitches would have almost no chance of hitting.
A brief adjustment was usually required.
In the original timeline, even the formidable batter Masuko Tooru had observed a full inning before deducing the nature of Eijun’s pitches.
Masuko’s strength as Seidou’s cleanup hitter lay in his power swinging.
With a metal bat and brute force, he could slightly counter Eijun’s unorthodox pitches.
Unorthodox pitches—those that varied unpredictably—were tough for technical batters to read immediately.
Only exceptionally talented hitters could reliably connect on the first try.
But power hitters?
They had a natural advantage: swing timing.
Even if slightly off-center, they could still drive the ball far.
Masuko Tooru had relied on both these strengths to hit Eijun’s pitch out of the park.
But in this Red-and-White game?
Kanzaki Yuto was confident that aside from Masuko, no other batter could truly hit Eijun’s pitches.
After all, nearly all of the first-string starting players were absent.
“Hehe!” Sawamura Eijun stood proudly on the mound, his face glowing with excitement, eyes fixed on the batter’s box.
“I’m going to shock that sunglasses-wearing jerk!” he thought, brimming with mischief.
Squatting behind him was the newly assigned first-year catcher, Kariba Wataru.
At this moment, Kariba looked utterly desperate.
He hadn’t expected the pitcher to be such a carefree idiot.
This was it—the decisive moment against second- and third-year upperclassmen… No breaking balls?
Fine.
But not even corner pitches?
Clenching his teeth, Kariba thought grimly: Forget it.
I don’t care how this goes now!
“Play!” Kataoka said coldly, his gaze fixed ahead on Eijun.
He was eager to see if the boy would deliver a surprise on the stage prepared for him.
“Huff!” Eijun exhaled slightly, calming his gaze.
Whatever he was normally like, the moment he stood on the mound, he remembered his responsibility.
Kanzaki Yuto dashed toward the incoming fly ball and slid to catch it firmly in his mitt.
Frankly, it was an easy play—no speed, no tricky angles, a straight shot.
Judge the landing, catch it.
Simple.
“Batter out!
Sides change!” Kataoka’s voice echoed as Kanzaki Yuto secured the catch.
In just three pitches, he retired two batters!
The bases-loaded crisis was instantly neutralized by this first-year named Sawamura Eijun.
The field and the stands erupted into cheers!