Judging purely from the pitching statistics, Furuya's performance today wasn't particularly impressive. But if one looked at the overall situation, he had still shown everyone the progress they had been hoping to see.
"Well~ you really didn't pitch well today," Kanzaki Ryou said bluntly. "Your fastball velocity increased, but your control suffered. Even after you consciously lowered your speed, you still couldn't consistently hit the spots Miyuki called for."
Hearing this, Furuya's face darkened. He lowered his head, looking like a scolded child.
"However," Kanzaki continued, "the fact that you were willing to sacrifice velocity for control already proves that you've grown. Don't rush things. You're only a first-year."
Furuya slowly lifted his head again, some light returning to his eyes.
"But when you were a first-year, you were already incredibly strong… You even won the Koshien championship."
"You brat, why are you comparing yourself to me?" Kanzaki laughed. "Let me put it this way—yes, you're strong. You're the genius type. But I'm different. I've seen countless geniuses in my life…"
He paused before adding with a grin,
"…and every single one of them calls me a genius."
Hiss—
The teammates around him collectively sucked in a breath.
How shameless!
Even if it was true, how could someone say it so brazenly?
Furuya was momentarily speechless before asking another question.
"Senior… you didn't play in these last two games. Don't you feel lonely?"
"Huh?"
Kanzaki immediately ruffled Furuya's hair.
"Poor choice of words! What loneliness? Don't talk nonsense."
After correcting him, Kanzaki sat beside him and continued calmly.
"Of course I want to play. But I'm not made of iron. Tough battles are still ahead of us. I need to conserve my strength now. Otherwise, what happens when we face a truly strong opponent later?"
Furuya nodded thoughtfully.
Deep down, he wished he could monopolize the pitcher's mound. He couldn't quite understand why Kanzaki was willing to give it up so easily.
Seeing Furuya fall silent, Kanzaki didn't press further.
This kid had an almost pathological attachment to the pitcher's mound.
But from another perspective, that kind of possessiveness wasn't bad at all—it was the temperament of an Ace.
Furuya wasn't the only one like this.
Sawamura was the same.
That kid also hated the idea of anyone else standing on the mound.
Top of the Eighth Inning
After a brief warm-up, the game resumed.
Sawamura received Miyuki's signal and hurriedly threw his first pitch.
The baseball flew straight over Miyuki's head.
For a moment, the stadium fell completely silent.
Then the entire crowd burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha! A wild pitch!"
"These two first-years are hilarious. One digs potatoes, the other throws wild pitches."
"Is this some kind of ritual?"
"Maybe it's tradition!"
The laughter echoed throughout the stadium.
Sawamura finally understood exactly how Furuya had felt earlier.
His face turned red, so red it looked like a monkey's backside.
"I knew it…" Miyuki muttered, lowering his head in frustration.
He had suspected Sawamura would pull something like this and sure enough, he did.
Akikawa's second batter froze for a moment before slowly smiling.
He glanced toward his dugout.
"The velocity isn't high. Swing aggressively," the Akikawa coach signaled.
The batter nodded, loosening his grip on the bat as he waited.
"Hoo… ha… hoo… ha…"
Overwhelmed with embarrassment, Sawamura spread his arms wide like a crab and began taking deep breaths on the mound.
"Idiot! You should've done that earlier!"
"Bakamura!"
After several deep breaths, his complexion gradually returned to normal.
Sawamura looked toward Miyuki.
The signal was already there.
Inside high—four-seam fastball.
Sawamura nodded.
He took a deep breath, stepped forward heavily, and whipped his arm.
The baseball shot toward the plate.
Thwack!
"Strike!"
The batter swung and missed.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
I couldn't see the release point…
Was it just his imagination?
The batter stared at Sawamura.
When the first pitch had sailed into a wild pitch, he hadn't thought much of it. But this pitch made him uneasy.
Miyuki noticed the batter's surprised expression and smiled faintly.
Not only because Sawamura had shaken the opponent—
But because the pitch itself had been excellent.
If it had been Furuya, Miyuki wouldn't have dared call for an inside-high pitch. Furuya's velocity was terrifying, and with his unstable control, hitting the batter was always a risk.
Sawamura, however, could fearlessly throw inside.
That was part of his fearless personality.
"Strike!"
Miyuki praised him without hesitation. Encouragement like this boosted a pitcher's confidence.
Soon after, an outside-low fastball made the batter swing and miss again.
Strike two.
Now the batter was certain—his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.
He truly couldn't see the release point.
And that made timing the swing extremely difficult.
Akikawa Dugout
"What's going on? The ball isn't even that fast."
"Ninomiya! What are you doing?"
"Just hit it!"
His teammates shouted.
You Shunshin, sitting on the bench, frowned.
The ball speed looked similar to his own, maybe even slightly slower.
The trajectory wasn't tricky.
The pitch location wasn't near the corners.
And the power definitely wasn't comparable to Furuya's earlier fastballs.
From the outside, Sawamura looked like a very ordinary pitcher.
So why—
Why couldn't they hit him?
You Shunshin felt uneasy.
The outcome of the game might already be decided, but he still didn't want to lose without even challenging Seido's true Ace.
Back on the Field
Sawamura threw the third pitch.
An outside cutter.
The batter swung.
And missed completely.
"Strike three! Batter out!"
"How disgusting…"
The batter pulled down his cap as he walked off the field.
"Be careful," he whispered to the next hitter, Hashimoto. "There's something strange about this pitcher."
Hashimoto nodded and stepped into the batter's box.
Whoosh!
Thwack!
"Strike!"
After just one pitch, Hashimoto understood what his teammate meant.
That bizarre pitching motion made the release point almost impossible to see.
The next pitch came.
This time, Hashimoto swung fully.
"Damn it! The ball has more power than I expected!"
The ball shot toward third base.
"Third base!" Sawamura shouted.
Arima Kazusa reacted instantly.
He fielded the ball cleanly and fired to first.
Thwack!
"OUT!"
Sawamura clenched his fist excitedly.
"Oh-su! Oh-su! Oh-su!"
"Stop screaming like a ghost!" his teammates shouted.
Next came Akikawa's cleanup hitter, Shiratori.
But he also mistimed his swing, sending a bouncing grounder between second and third.
"Shortstop!" Sawamura called with a grin.
Kuramochi dashed forward, scooped up the ball smoothly, leaped lightly into the air, twisted his body, and fired to first.
Thwack!
"OUT!"
"Three up, three down! Sawamura!"
"Nice pitching, first-year!"
The Seido supporters roared with excitement.
"Oh-su! Oh-su! Oh-su!"
"I told you to stop screaming like a ghost!"
The top of the eighth inning ended.
Facing Sawamura's unusual pitching, Akikawa still couldn't find a good solution. Even when they managed to hit the ball, every single one landed safely within Seido's defensive range.