Chapter 290: I Won't Fall Here
"Ninth batter! Pitcher, Sawamura!"
As the announcement echoed through the stadium, everyone understood that Seidou was making its final gamble—a do-or-die move. If it worked, they lived. If not, they went down with it.
The crowd's reactions varied wildly. On the Inashiro Industrial side—the dugout, the cheering section, and their supporters—bursts of laughter rang out.
Who puts all their hopes of winning on a first-year?
Even last year's Inashiro, with Narumiya as the closer, would never have had Narumiya be the last pitcher left.
A situation like this meant the opponent had been driven into a corner—on some level, it was practically an admission of defeat.
Wakana, the Sawamura family, and Sendo's grandparents felt conflicted—happy for Sawamura, yet terrified for him.
Sawamura's grandfather even hid behind his son…
"Isn't that the brat from back then (yesterday)?"
Zaizen and Azuma spoke in unison.
Azuma's voice carried worry mixed with anticipation; Zaizen's, excitement and delight. Both knew that Sawamura had guts.
But as a Seidou alum, Azuma couldn't help but worry in a situation like this.
"So the wall is still this thick this year, huh? That brat (Narumiya) has gotten even stronger…And you too, brat! (That's Sendo.) Even if you lose here, you weren't wrong. This was an amazing game! The future belongs to you!"
(Azuma wondered if Sendo would want to punch him if he heard that.)
He glanced at Sendo, speaking in his heart—trying to comfort Sendo, but really comforting himself.
From this game alone, Azuma knew Seidou's rise was unstoppable. Once Furuya matured, they would definitely reach Koshien at least once before graduation.
Anyone who had watched this match would agree.
Today, the two players who got the most hits off Narumiya were Furuya and Sendo.
Sendo aside, Furuya alone had collected two hits off Narumiya in four at-bats.
He could no longer be called a wild cannon.
...
"I'm sorry, Sawamura."
Seeing Sawamura step onto the field, Kawakami spoke.
"Huh?"
"I'm really sorry to make you take the mound in a situation like this. But my body just won't listen to me anymore. So please—don't back down. Keep fighting.
Just like Tanba-san told me back then. From now on, you're the ace. Pitch with everything you've got."
With a look full of frustration, Kawakami gazed at Sawamura, then walked off the field carrying that frustration with him.
After only a few steps, he covered his eyes with his right hand.
He had never felt this unwilling to let go.
"Kawakami-senpai…!"
"Hey, Sawamura!"
Miyuki stepped in, pressing his right fist against Sawamura's chest.
"You know this, right? What this situation needs isn't technique or flashy performance—It's this right here!"
"Yes! I've been waiting for this for a long time! And this is the only thing I've got! I'm still a rookie who doesn't know anything else!bThis is all I can do!"
Sawamura said with a grin.
"Haha! That's clear enough, then! That's more than enough! Let's get through this together and wait for our chance!"
"Yes!!!"
...
On the other side—
"Hold your head high, Kawakami!"
"You did great!"
Hearing the words of encouragement from the cheering section—reserves, seniors, classmates, and underclassmen—Kawakami's tears burst forth like a broken dam.
"That was great pitching!"
The players in the dugout comforted him as well, which only made it hurt more.
"Go wash your face and come back to cheer for the team. We haven't lost yet."
Coach Kataoka said calmly, without turning around.
That tone actually made it easier for him.
"Yes…"
Kawakami answered with difficulty, then quietly slipped out the back of the dugout.
All of this hit Furuya hard as he watched from the bench.
For the first time, he truly felt how terrifying the word "loss" was—and how terrifying baseball could be.
Furuya clenched his fists tightly.
Thump!
"Now's not the time to think about pointless stuff. Let's cheer until our throats go hoarse!"
Oni-san tapped Furuya on the head with a megaphone.
"Yes!"
Furuya nodded obediently.
...
"Pop!"
"All right!"
"Cut it out with the shouting during warm-ups!"
"Sorry to keep you waiting, Chief Umpire! Let's resume the game!"
"Enough already—no need to shout everything!"
The home-plate umpire sounded exasperated, but in a match this tense, having a mood-breaker like this made the air feel a little lighter.
"Please take care of me!"
"That idiot isn't nervous… no—wait!"
Kanemaru said worriedly.
"He's the same as always, right?"
Maezono replied.
"Hey! Don't ruin our image!"
Captain Ota shouted.
A true iconic scene.
"Huff… all right! I won't let them keep hitting… no—! I'll pitch carefully, one pitch at a time! Defense, I'm counting on you!"
"Heh, that's some spirit, Eijun! You've been holding it in, haven't you? Let's see how far a you in top condition can go!"
Hearing Sawamura's booming voice, Sendo knew the guy had been bottling this up for a long time.
"Don't say it again, idiot!"
His older brother snapped immediately.
"Take a deep breath!"
"Moron!"
"Does that guy even realize? If he gets hit, the game's over!"
Seeing Sawamura without a trace of nervousness, the cheering section grew uneasy.
"A moron? That idiot's in perfect condition right now!Don't get scared!"
Sendobruthlessly roasted his teammates' bad judgment.
Inashiro Industrial's data on Sawamura consisted of only one thing: A weird-form, gimmick pitcher.
They knew nothing else.
After all, you had to actually stand in the batter's box to understand him. Against someone you'd never faced, no amount of video helped.
"But with an opportunity this good, who would pass it up?"
Hirai tightened his grip on the bat, staring at the pitcher who looked almost excited to face him.
"Come at me with everything. Right now—while they don't know you, and before they can adjust."
Miyuki stopped worrying about fortune or misfortune, victory or defeat.
He just wanted to throw everything away and fight to his heart's content.
Tens of thousands of eyes locked onto the figure on the mound as he entered his pitching motion.
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
"First pitch—a fastball on the outer edge!
(The outer-corner version of a belt-high pitch. At this stage, Sawamura didn't avoid the outside corner—but this particular pitch…)
The batter doesn't swing!"
"What the—? That posture… I can't see the release point at all! I can't time my swing!"
Hirai was startled by the ball that seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"All right!"
"!"
"Beautiful pitch, Sawamura!"
"Keep attacking!"
"That's right—take them down one by one!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
"Damn it! I've never seen a pitch like this before—I have no idea how to swing at it!"
Hirai could only watch as the second outside pitch crossed the plate.
"The second pitch is outside again! Why didn't Hirai swing?!"
Yabe exclaimed in shock.
....
"That guy's pitch—you can't see the ball at all before he releases it. It just suddenly appears in front of you, which makes it feel insanely fast," Ninomiya said.
"Yeah! And the outside pitch isn't him avoiding contact—it's an aggressive attack!"
Yang replied absentmindedly, barely keeping up with the conversation.
....
"Do you even realize that one hit could end the game?! And you come out throwing like this right away?! Honestly, your fighting spirit has completely fired me up! Third pitch—inside fastball! This one will be enough!"
Behind his mask, Miyuki couldn't hide his excitement—this was the first time all game he felt this fired up.
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike! Batter out!"
"A third-pitch inside fastball—swing and a miss, strike three!!! In a situation where a single hit could mean sayonara, the first batter goes down on a three-pitch strikeout!"
"Yes! Yes, yes, YES!"
"One out!"
"One out!"
"I never imagined a first-year could pitch at this level in a situation like this! But it's not at the level where the bat can't touch it at all,"
Coach Kunimoto thought, tilting his head slightly.
With one out, a sacrifice bunt wasn't a good option either. If the pitcher looked shaky, a bunt could apply pressure—but the new pitcher was clearly fearless and in peak condition.
Bunting now would only sharpen his focus on the batter, so Kunimoto had no choice but to let his players keep attacking.
Just as he thought, Sawamura's pitches weren't untouchable—unlike Furuya at the very start of the game, when there truly was nothing you could do.
"Bon! This kid's control isn't that good. The outside pitch is actually quite hittable. It's all because of that delivery where you can't see the release point. Since they know this, they'll definitely attack the inside at some point. Just wait for that moment!"
Even without calling a specific play, he pulled Bon aside for one-on-one instruction.
After all, Hirai—who had just struck out—had already shared what he'd seen.
The difference was simple: knowing it versus being able to adapt to it.
"Yes! I understand!"
...
"Eighth batter! Left fielder, Bon!"
"With runners on first and second, they can't steal bases so easily now! That makes this a much more straightforward showdown! Leave the runners to me—you just pitch exactly where I guide you!"
After flashing the signs, Miyuki spread his arms wide.
Clearly, he had already completely forgotten just how dire the situation was.
"I'm counting on you, Miyuki Kazuya!"
Though he usually avoided honorifics with Miyuki, Sawamura knew that only by relying on this man could he keep fighting.
"So I really get to pitch on the biggest stage of the finals…This is seriously getting my blood boiling! How could I let this game just end here?! How could I let the seniors' last summer end here?!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
"Yes!!!"
Sawamura roared at the top of his lungs.
"Yes!"
Kanemaru responded immediately.
"!"
"Attack them, Sawamura!"
"How are you even supposed to swing at that?!"
Bon blurted out the same soul-crushing question.
As for why Sawamura—despite having the exact same techniques as Sendo did in his previous life—felt completely unhittable to Inashiro's players?
It was because Sawamura wasn't exactly the same as in his previous life.
From fourth grade in elementary school, he had consistently trained with the explosive-power regimen Sendo gave him.
Combined with three years of running in middle school, his lower body was far more stable, and his velocity was higher—at least 8 to 10 km/h faster than at the same stage back then.
For Sawamura's style, that speed difference was as drastic as the jump from 140 to 150 km/h.
Explosive power may have limited gains through training, but that only happens when you're near your absolute ceiling—and he wasn't there yet.
Maybe by autumn, the gap between him and his past self would narrow, but right now was when the difference was greatest: better control and higher velocity—a double buff.
"It's time to give them a proper wake-up call,"
Miyuki thought as he watched Bon's expression.
"Huh?"
Sawamura was surprised when he saw Miyuki's pitch call.
"Heh. You just need to throw your best pitch right here! Sendo said it himself—you've honed your weapon razor-sharp in the bullpen. Let me test it out!"
Miyuki smiled up at Sawamura on the mound, waiting for his response.
Right now, he was just short of yelling at the Inashiro dugout: 'Behold my blade—see how sharp it is!'
"Keep aiming inside, Bon! Don't let this first-year brat keep getting cocky!"
Coach Kunimoto thought to himself, sweat starting to bead on his face.
If they couldn't suppress this first-year's momentum, the game would truly become unpredictable.
"This is unbelievable…! You're telling me to try this pitch for the first time, at this moment?! Do you even realize that one hit right now could mean sayonara?!"
Sawamura wasn't unaware of how critical the situation was—his fighting spirit just burned even hotter.
What would Miyuki think if he could hear Sawamura's inner thoughts?
Both of them thought the other had forgotten how dire the situation was—yet both were insanely bold.
That was the power of momentum.
Sawamura's sky-high fighting spirit and precise, razor-sharp pitching ignited Miyuki's own resolve. At this moment, the two truly felt like a pitcher-catcher battery.
"Go, Sawamura!"
"Raaaah!!!"
"Crush them!"
"Give it everything!"
Even the cheering sections and players on the field were infected by the energy of that central duo.
The earlier pessimism vanished completely. Fighting spirit returned—and with it, the courage to go all in.
"Heh…If you're giving me this sign, that means you believe in me, right? That I'm the one who can throw this pitch. A pitch is a work created together by the pitcher and catcher. That's what you said, right? Don't worry. I won't fall here, aibo."
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