Chapter Text
Top of the Third Inning
The buzz from Sawamura’s one run in the second inning had faded. What remained was the stark truth on the scoreboard:
Inashiro 4 – Seidou 1.
Even so, something had shifted.
Momentum flickered like a flame struggling in heavy wind weak, unstable, but alive.
Arai trudged off the mound, legs heavy, face pale from effort. He had endured as long as he could. Coach Kataoka met him at the foul line, giving a single firm nod respect without words before turning to the boy who had been vibrating like a loaded spring since warm-ups.
Sawamura Eijun.
Sawamura adjusted his cap once. Twice.
He tossed his glove up lightly and caught it as if his hand and the leather already lived in the same rhythm.
His steps toward the mound were loud. Heavy. Like the field itself was calling him.
The ground announcer’s voice echoed
“Seidou High—pitcher change.
Replacing Second Year Arai-kun is First Year Sawamura-kun.”
A wave of attention rolled through the spectators.
Every head turned.
Ono jogged ahead and crouched down, ready to catch Sawamura’s warm-up throws.
“The mound is yours now,” Ono said, voice steady. “Hold the game. Pitch like you mean it.”
Sawamura inhaled deeply, the noise of the crowd melting away.
“I will, Senpai. They’re not scoring again. I’ll stop them as much as I can. You’ll see.”
Inashiro Dugout
Coach Kunitomo watched Sawamura’s posture with narrowed eyes.
“So, Kataoka is using that boy now.”
His tone carried mild irritation and undeniable curiosity.
Narumiya Mei practically exploded out of his seat.
“Coach! Put me in! I want to shut that brat up myself! Let me crush him right now—!”
Before Kunitomo could even breathe, Harada placed a firm hand on Mei’s shoulder.
The Inashiro catcher didn’t speak loudly.
But his voice cut through everything.
“Sit down, Mei. Not yet.
We study him first.”
Mei’s jaw clenched hard.
Harada continued,
“That kid threw out one of our fastest runners from deep left. His pitching based on his junior high record was already strange, but now it’s different. More powerful. More violent.
He’s unpredictable. We plan first. You wait.”
Mei clicked his tongue but obeyed. Barely.
His eyes locked on Sawamura like lasers.
On the Mound
Sawamura lifted his leg high then slightly lower turning his entire back to the batter before snapping forward with raw, explosive torque.
He looked like a slingshot ready to break apart.
Coach Kataoka had given one clear rule:
“Fastballs only. One or two breaking balls if needed. That’s all.”
Sawamura wanted to go all out, but he followed orders.
First Batter – Ninth Hitter
Fastball—wild.
Ball One.
Fastball—outside.
Ball Two.
The batter relaxed, thinking this pitcher was untamed.
Ono called for an inside cutter.
Sawamura released.
The ball traveled straight—and then jumped violently.
Strike One!
The batter flinched.
Next pitch: Two-seam fastball.
Flat, fast, deceptive.
Swing—too early.
Strike Two.
Another cutter—foul.
Still 2–2.
Then a wide cutter.
The batter lunged, hitting a weak roller.
Ono scooped it and tossed to first.
One Out.
Inashiro whispered:
“A pitch-to-contact lefty.”
“Fastball looks flat, but that cutter…”
“Dangerous.”
Second Batter – Lead-off
High fastball—forced back.
Cutter outside—foul.
Fastball—hard contact, but straight to Haruichi.
Two Outs.
Third Batter ,a power hitter.
Sawamura didn’t avoid him.
Fastball—foul.
Cutter—ball.
Two-seam—CRACK!
A sharp liner but Seidou’s shortstop dove and caught it clean.
Three Outs!
Sawamura pumped his fist.
The Seidou dugout roared with life again.
In Inashiro’s Dugout
Silence.
Then low breathing.
Mei watched Sawamura with an expression between anger and respect.
“He’s not at his best yet,” Mei muttered.
Harada blinked. “What?”
“He can still do more.
He’s holding back.”
Kunitomo’s eyebrow lifted slightly.
For the Inashiro Ace, Narumiya Mei. The Tokyo prince to make such a statement.
This first-year boy was worth studying.
Mei’s lips curled.
“Well. Let him pitch.
When I face him that’s when it gets fun.”
Bottom of the Third Inning
Seidou’s order returned.
But Yuri, humiliated after giving up the home run, pitched like a man reborn.
Corner fastballs.
Fastball again, biting the edge.
Curveballs dropping like cliffs.
Strikeout.
Strikeout.
Fly-out.
Three quick outs.
Toujou stood helpless on deck.
Seidou’s fire dimmed again.
Inashiro 4 – Seidou 1.
Top of the Fourth Inning
Sawamura faced the core of Inashiro’s lineup.
Ground-out.
Pop-fly.
Ground-out—thanks to a rare slow change-up that froze the batter.
Another zero.
Seidou dugout buzzed — He’s holding the game!
Bottom of the Fourth
Yuri pitched even sharper.
Strikeout.
Pop-fly.
Sawamura came up next. He fought stubbornly, fouling off two pitches before a vicious curve dropped under his bat.
Strikeout.
Yuri finished his outing perfectly.
Top of the Fifth Inning
Announcer:
“Inashiro substitution—Left Field, Carlos.”
Buzz rippled through the field.
Carlos, Inashiro’s fastest runner, a monster on the bases stepped in smiling.
Sawamura tensed, excited.
Fastball—ball.
Cutter—foul.
Fastball—ball.
Fastball—ball.
3–1 count.
Ono signaled a risky change-up.
Sawamura committed.
Carlos started a swing—and froze.
The ball died, dropping like it lost its soul.
Strike Two.
Carlos stared in shock.
Sawamura smirked.
Next pitch: cutter at the knees.
Strike Three.
Carlos walked off stunned.
Sawamura retired the next two.
Another zero.
Bottom of the Fifth
The Seidou dugout noticed a commotion.
Announcer
“Pitching change for Inashiro— Yuri-kun is replaced by Ace, Narumiya-kun.”
Gasps.
Harada, Inashiro’s main catcher, walked in also full gear.
The real power battey of Inashiro was now on the field.
Mei didn’t warm up.
He didn’t need to.
First batter—three-pitch strikeout.
Next batter—weak fly-out.
Third batter—strikeout.
Three Up, Three Down.
Narumiya Mei had stepped onto the stage.
Top of the Sixth
Sawamura, sweating and tired, forced weak contact again.
Grounders, pop-ups — another scoreless inning.
Seidou’s fielders felt his determination:
“He’s not giving up”
“He’s fighting alone out there.”
“This kid he’s something else.”
From the bench, Chris watched silently.
He wanted to go catch for Sawamura, to guide him but he had been instructed not to push his shoulder furthermore.
So he only watched.
And he saw it.
Sawamura was still far from his true potential.
Bottom of the Sixth
Mei tore through Seidou’s lineup like a storm.
Fastballs too fast to see.
Curveballs too sharp to track.
Strikeout.
Strikeout.
Ground-out.
Another scoreless inning.
Seidou could barely breathe.
Top of the Seventh
Mei stepped into the batter’s box.
Sawamura vs Mei.
Sawamura fired a two-seamer—
CRACK!
A screaming liner into left.
Base hit.
Mei stared proudly. Sawamura nodded back.
Next batter doubled.
Mei scored.
Inashiro 5 – Seidou 1.
Sawamura ended the rest quickly, but the damage was done.
Bottom of the Seventh
Two quick outs.
Then Sawamura stepped to the plate.
Mei smirked, launching a blazing fastball.
Sawamura fouled it off hard.
Another pitch—nastier.
Sawamura swung—
The ball flew deep—
But the center fielder caught it easily.
Game Over.
Final Score:
Inashiro 5 – Seidou 1
Seidou lost.
But Sawamura had held Inashiro—the nation’s lineup to just one run during his time on the mound.
Everyone saw it.
Everyone felt it.
A first-year who refused to break.
Seidou’s Main Team Watching
The first-string sat behind the fence, stunned.
“He held Inashiro to one run”
“That’s insane.”
“That form that power”
Miyuki didn’t speak at first.
His eyes stayed locked on Sawamura, who walked off the field sweaty, tired, but head held high.
He whispered under his breath:
“He didn’t even go all out.”
Miyuki could tell.
Sawamura was hiding his true strength .
Holding back potential.
Not showing everything.
But even like that—
He dominated.
Miyuki felt something rise inside him.
Admiration.
Curiosity.
Excitement.
And pride.
“Good job, Sawamura,” Miyuki murmured to himself. “You carried that game. Even if you lost, you fought till the end.”
Sawamura didn’t show off.
He didn’t complain.
He didn’t even look frustrated after losing.
But Miyuki understood.
That kid held Inashiro to just one run.
That kind of spirit, it’s rare.
Miyuki let out a breath, almost a smile.
“He’s not even showing half of what he can do,” he whispered, a faint smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m excited to see what else he can show.” His eyes hardened with quiet determination. “Since the summer qualifier is coming that kind of spirit is exactly what we need.”
The first-string players around him nodded silently, each with their own thoughts, their own quiet respect.
Time Skip – Afternoon
Seidou’s first string won their afternoon practice game against Teito High with 7-4.
Scoreboard tally stood as:
First String: 2–0
Second String: 1–1
Non-Regulars: 0–2
Even with the loss, both second string and non regulars had done well.
Kuramochi didn’t admit it, not even to himself but he had been thinking nonstop about Sawamura ever since the Inashiro match ended.
Was he sulking?
Was he crying somewhere alone like an idiot?
Did he break something?
These were the annoying thoughts running in Kuramochi’s mind as he walked back toward the dorm after the Teito practice game.
“Tch, why do I even care” he grumbled.
He opened the door to their shared room and froze.
Sawamura was sitting comfortably on the floor, eyes locked on the screen, aggressively mashing buttons on a controller.
Beside him, Masuko was casually eating pudding with full concentration.
“Oh, Kuramochi, you’re already here,” Masuko said calmly.
Sawamura didn’t even look up.
Kuramochi twitched.
“HEY. I thought you were sulking or crying or something after that loss AND YOU’RE HERE PLAYING MY GAME?!”
Sawamura did not answer.
He was too focused.
Too focused.
Too. Focused.
Kuramochi’s eyebrow twitched so violently it could cut glass.
“You brat—don’t ignore me!”
He grabbed Sawamura by the neck like a sumo wrestler grabbing an opponent.
“Guh—Kura—Mochi—senpai!! Time out!! I’m winning—!”
“No you’re not! You’re LOSING! To ME!”
Masuko continued eating pudding without blinking.
The game character on-screen died instantly.
Sawamura screamed.
“NOOO! MOCHI-SENPAI YOU KILLED ME!! I WAS SO CLOSE TO WINNING!!”
Kuramochi burst out laughing.
“Hah!! HAHAHA! That’s what you get, idiot!”
Sawamura sat on the floor, fake crying with big tears.
“That’s cheating. I almost won.”
Masuko finally reached over and patted Sawamura’s head.
“You can play more later, Sawamura. I’ll let you borrow another game too.”
Sawamura brightened instantly.
“Really?! Masuko-senpai is the best!”
Kuramochi jumped in immediately.
“NO. No more games for now! Coach said everyone gathers at the indoor field in 10 minutes!”
Masuko sighed, finishing his pudding.
Kuramochi crossed his arms.
Sawamura pouted.
But all three stood up together and headed out of the dorm.
“Let’s go, idiots,” Kuramochi said but his voice held a small smile.
Sawamura grinned, already full of energy again.
The loss was behind him.
And tomorrow, he would pitch even better.