“Game over!
Line up!” Originally, Coach Kataoka had only planned for a few innings, but in the end, the game smoothly stretched to a full nine innings.
The final score was 21–5.
At first glance, it looked like a complete rout for the first-years.
Yet, those present saw much deeper meaning in the contest than the numbers alone suggested.
By the fifth inning, the first-years had already given up nineteen runs.
That meant in the remaining four innings, they only allowed two runs—and scored five themselves.
Of course, the game had three major turning points.
The first came in the bottom of the fifth, when Sawamura Eijun entered in a critical bases-loaded, one-out situation.
His perfect handling of the crisis shifted the game’s momentum toward the first-years.
The next highlight was the sixth inning.
In the top of the sixth, the first-years unexpectedly scored three runs with a home run, completely changing the dynamics of the match and giving them control.
Then, in the bottom of the sixth, facing Masuko Tooru—the original cleanup hitter capable of hitting a home run at any moment—Sawamura made a decision that shocked everyone, even Kanzaki Yuto.
The pitcher who usually confronted batters head-on chose to intentionally walk him.
Yes, a walk!
It looked like an aggressive strategy at first, but the deliberate nature of the pitch made everyone question their previous assumptions about Sawamura’s personality.
For someone like him to choose a walk was undoubtedly unusual, even if it was an “aggressive” walk.
Everyone could tell the decision was his alone.
His previous pitches had shown no intention of coordinating with the catcher.
No one believed Sawamura would follow instructions and intentionally walk Masuko.
Honestly, the “old” Sawamura would never have chosen a walk.
In his view, a pitcher should face the batter head-on.
But now… he was the trusted ace.
The first-years recognized him as their ace.
They wanted to win.
They wanted to prove themselves.
As the trusted pitcher, Sawamura couldn’t betray their expectations.
Just as when he first came to Seidou, he had sworn not to let down his teammates back home.
He wanted to become a true ace.
Thus, he ultimately chose to walk Masuko.
Masuko looked disappointed; he had been fully prepared to swing, but Sawamura had opted for a walk instead.
That pitch—clearly a ball—was something Masuko couldn’t dare to hit, fearing a double play.
And the result?
Even more thrilling than a mere walk.
Coach Kataoka’s face betrayed no emotion when he saw Sawamura intentionally walk the batter.
A head-to-head showdown?
Or a walk?
Pros and cons?
Was it a temporary sacrifice of the pitcher’s pride for the team’s victory, or a way to fully maximize his ability in a face-to-face duel?
High school baseball wasn’t professional baseball.
Many kids wouldn’t choose to walk a batter—not out of pride or principle, but simply because of their fighting spirit.
Isn’t that what youth is about?
Of course, every choice has a balance.
To gain something, you must be willing to give something up.
Sawamura seemed to set aside his pitching style, sacrificing something he normally wouldn’t.
Though this was only a scrimmage, any observer could see that he gained something even greater.
Off-field observers like Kuramochi and even Miyuki looked on in disbelief: Sawamura Eijun had intentionally walked a batter.
Four balls.
After that, the next two batters couldn’t even track his pitches and were easily caught out.
In the sixth inning, only a runner remained at first.
The momentum was completely in the first-years’ favor.
In the seventh and eighth innings, the second- and third-year batters, mostly unfamiliar with Sawamura’s pitches, weren’t as strong as Masuko.
Every batter was caught out.
Remarkably, there wasn’t a single strikeout… In the top of the eighth, the cleanup hitter surprisingly connected with Kawakami’s fastball and reached base.
Kanzaki Yuto decisively instructed the next batter to sacrifice a bunt, advancing him to second.
Then Sawamura, again using a bunt, cleverly deceived the second- and third-year defenders, safely reaching first himself.
Bases loaded at first and third!
Consecutive hits from Kominato and Kanzaki Yuto scored two runs!
Though the score gap remained large, the first-years’ fighting spirit was undiminished.
They were chasing victory with full force!
But the second- and third-years weren’t pushovers either.
To make it into Seidou, survive a year of grueling training, and remain on the second team wasn’t easy.
By the second round of batting, most of them could track Sawamura’s pitches.
Hitting still wasn’t simple, but the ninth inning left the first-years scrambling.
They fully realized the terrifying potential of Seidou’s lineup—and this was only the second team.
The first-team’s main player, Masuko, had yet to step in.
The bottom of the ninth ended with the second- and third-years scoring two runs.
(In a regular game, the bottom of the ninth wouldn’t have been played if the top didn’t tie the score, but for the scrimmage, all nine innings were completed.) From the perspective of Sawamura’s pitching alone, the first-years held the advantage: five runs scored against two.
From the sixth inning to the end, the first-years had control.
Indeed, this was a game whose beginning and end were starkly opposite!
“Thank you for your guidance!” Both teams lined up and bowed, shouting in unison.
“Phew.” Kanzaki Yuto wiped sweat from his face and exhaled deeply, smiling slightly.
This red-and-white game… it wasn’t easy, but the rewards were huge.
He clenched his fists slightly.
He could finally feel like he truly stood on this stage.
As he entered the bench area to pack his gear, a cold voice rang beside him: “Kanzaki Yuto, don’t forget to attend first-team training tomorrow.
Understood?” “Ah… yes!” Kanzaki Yuto turned to see Coach Kataoka’s emotionless face, paused briefly, then responded loudly.
First team… I really made it into the first team?
He pinched his cheek in disbelief.
“Eh?
What about me, BOSS?
Can I join the first team too?” Sawamura, energized by his pitching performance, felt confident.
He bounced over to Coach Kataoka.
“Hmph.
You?
Not yet.
This performance earns you a spot on the team, but stay with the second team for now.” Kataoka’s cold, imposing voice made Sawamura freeze.
His lips moved, but in his heart, Kataoka’s authority prevailed.
After saying this, Kataoka left the field, leaving Sawamura in a cloud of frustration.
Kanzaki Yuto quietly shook his head.
In this aspect, nothing had changed from the original story.
Though Kataoka valued Sawamura’s talent, he still needed to refine him.
To Kanzaki Yuto, this marked Sawamura’s first major breakthrough.
The boy’s life mentor—Chris!
When Kanzaki Yuto first arrived at Seidou, he had considered giving Sawamura advice to accelerate his growth.
But he realized it wasn’t that simple.
Sawamura hadn’t even mastered the basics, and Kanzaki Yuto himself was far from perfect.
In the hands of the prodigious catcher—even surpassing Miyuki Kazuya—Sawamura could grow tremendously.