Chapter 296: The Same Incident, a Different Outcome
"Does it hurt here?"
"No."
"How about here?"
"No."
The doctor continued his examination while everyone standing around wore anxious expressions.
Sawamura looked a little dazed, as if he couldn't quite understand Captain Tetsu's actions. His body was clearly in pain, yet the first thing he did was confirm the out.
Just like how he couldn't understand Inashiro's players either—why they all wore those expressions that looked ready to die for it.
"Hey, hey, give me a break!"
In front of the TV, Hirakawa from Ichidaisan cried out.
…
"Looks like there's no serious problem. It was just a strong impact that caused some nausea. A few minutes of rest and he'll be fine."
Hearing the doctor say that, everyone from Seidou finally let out a sigh of relief.
After that, the doctor left the field, and the umpire decided to give Captain Tetsu some extra time, announcing a five-minute delay.
"What's wrong with you now?"
Sendo walked over to Sawamura.
"What kind of place is Koshien, anyway?" Sawamura asked.
"You're asking that again? …No idea."
"But—"
"I don't know. Maybe it's dreams, or maybe it's just refusing to lose," Sendo cut him off, knowing exactly what Sawamura wanted to say.
"You'd better go warm up with that scheming glasses guy, or your body's going to cool down. If you want to know what Koshien is like, just go see it with your own eyes."
Sawamura looked up at Sendo.
"Don't look at me like that. Everyone sees the world differently. What it feels like to stand on the Koshien mound—that's something no one can tell you. So… if you want to know what Koshien feels like, just win."
Sendo said each word slowly, looking straight at Sawamura.
"Win it…"
"Of course, this might sound disrespectful to the seniors, but we still have two more years. Even so, we absolutely can't stain this game with a performance we're not satisfied with. For the seniors, this game might be their last. For you and me, if we put on a terrible performance here, we'd probably regret it for the rest of our lives."
Sendo leaned his head close to Sawamura's shoulder and quietly said those words.
After understanding what Sendo meant, something indescribable appeared in Sawamura's eyes.
"Alright, I'm heading back. If you don't know what you should be doing, then just enjoy this game."
Seeing that Sawamura understood his words but didn't quite know how to act on them, Sendo explained it like that with his back turned.
Then he casually waved and returned to the outfield, waiting for the game to resume.
"Enjoy it… huh? If Sendo says so… then it can't be wrong."
Sawamura's expression returned to what it had been on the mound before.
"Man, that guy really is amazing. Just a few words and Sawamura's back to normal. He really knows how to move people's hearts."
Listening in from nearby, Miyuki smiled as he watched Sendo's back.
"I really do want to compete with you for the regular catcher position someday. As expected of Coach Nakanishi's disciple."
With that thought, Miyuki's steps toward home plate became much firmer.
...
"Are you okay now?"
Five minutes later, the umpire checked with Captain Tetsu.
"Thank you very much. I'm completely fine,"
Tetsu replied with a serious bow.
"Then return to your position."
With that, the umpire signaled the plate umpire to resume the game.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
After seeing the pitcher and catcher complete a warm-up pitch, the plate umpire announced the restart.
"The game has resumed! It looks like Yuuki-kun is fine! This is the West Tokyo Summer Qualifier Final!Bottom of the 11th inning, Inashiro Industrial at bat!
Two outs, no runners on base, and stepping into the batter's box is the No. 2 hitter, shortstop Shirakawa!"
"His arm swing is full, the ball has good life, and the velocity's decent. He's in good condition. In that case… we can shut them down,"
Miyuki muttered as he looked at Sawamura.
From Shirakawa's face, it was obvious he was under tremendous pressure too.
But he stepped into the batter's box without hesitation—and…
"He's standing that close too!"
Miyuki's expression grew serious again.
Even though Sawamura had just thrown an inside pitch, it hadn't been extremely sharp. He still couldn't deliberately aim a pitch at a batter.
"While he's someone we need to watch out for, he doesn't have long-hit power! It's better to end this inning right here, so next inning we can focus entirely on the heart of the lineup. Swing your arm fully—even if the pitch is a bit hittable, that's fine!"
"We can't lose in terms of momentum! We have to win…! How could I run away… here?!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Ball!"
The first pitch was an outside ball. It was a bit high, but it missed far enough that the batter couldn't swing.
"The ball has good life," Miyuki encouraged as he tossed it back.
"Sawamura! Finish him!"
"Shirakawa!"
"Please!"
"Eijun…!"
"As long as we win! Just win…"
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"That was close! You can still swing late? What you see in the batter's box is totally different from the on-deck circle!"
Shirakawa looked at Sawamura in surprise.
He'd almost been taken out by that inside pitch just now—thankfully it went foul.
Even so, Shirakawa stubbornly continued to crowd the plate.
"It needs to be sharper," Sawamura muttered softly after seeing the ball get hit.
And he completely threw away the idea of "enjoying the game."
He simply didn't have the mental bandwidth for that anymore. Just bearing this pressure was already pushing him to his limits.
"Looks like he's not sitting on a specific pitch. If anything, he's waiting for something he can hit. Then we won't hold back—let's rack up some strikes,"
Miyuki said, starting to read Shirakawa's approach.
"Phew."
Seeing the next pitch wasn't inside, Sawamura let out a small breath.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"Damn it!"
Shirakawa clicked his tongue after missing another chance.
"One more!"
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Ball!"
Shirakawa almost swung at the outside pitch this time, but pulling back the bat disrupted his timing.
Seeing how Shirakawa had nearly released all his power only to forcibly stop, Miyuki knew it was time to decide things.
"Inside diagonal fastball! He's crowding the plate, so go a little farther out. The angle's smaller, but it's still effective. With all those outside pitches, plus that awkward check swing just now, his body should feel sluggish. Your shoulders should've relaxed after those two outside pitches too, right? Finish him with this one."
"Phew—full arm swing! Make it sharper! Finish him!"
Sawamura commanded himself internally.
"Even more…"
"Even sharper! Finish him!!!"
"Whoosh!"
"Ah!"
"THUD!"
The ball cut in at a steep angle, streaking straight toward the batter's face!
It was so sudden and fierce that Shirakawa barely managed to turn his head—
The ball slammed directly into the face guard of his helmet.
Shirakawa was struck down instantly.
In his previous life, it had only clipped the back side of Shirakawa's head, where the helmet was thicker.
This time, it hit the thinner face area—the same place where Tanba had once been injured.
Back then, Tanba's helmet had even cracked.
Even though Sawamura thought the speed was limited and he was only chasing angle and movement, Shirakawa still took it hard.
He collapsed on the spot, his vision blurring.
He shook his head several times before it improved even slightly.
"Hit by pitch!!!"
As Shirakawa shook his head, the umpire made the call and stepped forward to check on him.
At that moment, Miyuki saw a scene he remembered all too well from Sendo's previous life.
Shirakawa supported himself with one hand on the ground, an unmistakable smile creeping across his lips.
A sayonara chance… had arrived!!!
"YAAA!!!"
Shaking his head again, Shirakawa roared with everything he had left.
That death-soldier-like resolve sent a massive shock through Seidou's infield.
Sawamura froze—just like in his previous life.
Not because of the hit-by-pitch itself, but because the ball had struck Shirakawa's head, plunging him into deep guilt.
A hard baseball is basically solid wood. Being hit at over 100 km/h gave Sawamura the terrifying feeling that he might have killed someone.
Miyuki had been right earlier—Sawamura's shoulders had relaxed.
And with those relaxed, flexible shoulders, the final pitch had gained even more power.
But what Miyuki hadn't considered was this:
The softer the whip, the harder it is to control.
That was also a major reason Sawamura's batting was so inaccurate.
So even though the cause was different from his previous life, the result was the same.
This hit-by-pitch once again stood in Sawamura's path—like fate itself.
And Seidou had no relief pitchers left.
"Due to taking a pitch to the head, Shirakawa-kun will return to the dugout for treatment! The game will resume shortly!"
This inning… truly took one wild turn after another.
"Are you okay?"
Yoshizawa asked Shirakawa on the Inashiro bench, who was holding his head.
"I'm a bit dizzy… my vision's blurry. I probably won't be able to play anymore in this game," Shirakawa replied.
"Then just get some rest."
"So I thought he was just a first-year who didn't even know what fear was… Turns out he feels pressure too. That guy doesn't not feel pressure—he's just a simple idiot. Honestly, that kind of idiot is enviable."
"You'd better stop talking," the doctor who had just checked on Captain Tetsu said firmly.
"You might have a mild concussion. There doesn't seem to be a fracture, but you really should go to the hospital."
"I want to see the end of the game," Shirakawa said resolutely.
"…Then at least don't talk anymore. I'll stay here with you," the doctor sighed.
"Thank you," Shirakawa said, and fell silent.
.....
While Inashiro needed to assess Shirakawa's condition, Seidou had to deal with their pitcher.
"Don't worry about it. It was just an accident," Captain Tetsu was the first to speak, trying to comfort Sawamura.
"It's because the batter was standing too close to the plate," the senior from his dorm—Masuko—added.
"Sorry…"
"Hahaha! Don't mind it! That's just the result of pitching aggressively!"
The seniors didn't seem to realize the real issue, and their words weren't helping at all.
"Sorry…"
When they heard him say it a second time, everyone finally understood what the real problem was—but didn't know what to say.
"Eijun-kun…"
"He's not regretting putting a runner on base. He's blaming himself for where he hit him. What do we do? We don't have any pitchers left."
Everyone around Sawamura—including Miyuki—panicked.
"Honestly… I knew it," a voice suddenly exploded among the seniors.
"Sendo!"
"Sendo!"
"Sendo-chan!"
"Sendo-kun!"
That voice felt like an anchor—everyone instinctively turned toward him.
But Sendo's eyes were fixed only on Sawamura, who stood there blankly.
"Heh."
With a light chuckle, Sendo stepped forward and grabbed Sawamura's head with one big hand.
His fingers tightened.
"Y—ow! That hurts! What are you doing?!"
"Looks like you're finally awake. What are you doing?"
"Sendo… I… I hit someone."
"So what?"
"What do you mean 'so what'? It was his head!"
"So you feel guilty?"
"Of course I do!"
"You should."
"Then—!"
"But that guy had already made up his mind, hadn't he?"
"What are you—"
"Think back. What was his reaction when he got hit?"
"…Huh?"
Not just Sawamura—everyone there recalled that roar.
And Sawamura and Miyuki, who had seen Shirakawa's smile, remembered even more clearly.
"Tell me," Sendo said sternly.
"What was his reaction?"
"He… he smiled. He looked genuinely happy. And then—"
"And then he let out an excited roar. Right?"
"…Yeah."
"Do you get it now?"
"..."
"He was happy because he got on base. Happy because the chance to win the game had finally come. Even if that chance was only a tiny sliver."
"..."
"Do you remember what you said a few minutes ago?
Do you remember how Tetsu reacted when he made that save? The seniors want to win. They want to win even if it kills them. So remember this well. This is a battlefield. If it leads to victory, anything goes. After the game, you can kneel down and apologize to him if you want. But right now—fight like a warrior. That's the respect you owe Shirakawa."
Sendo leaned close to Sawamura's ear and whispered those words.
Then he straightened up. Seeing that Sawamura's expression was returning, he decided to push him one last time.
"If you can't do that—Then after this game, forget the promise we made on the train to Tokyo. The two of us…we'll just go back to Nagano and play amateur baseball."
Sawamura's eyes flew open.
Sendo leaned in again.
"Picture it. The seniors are fighting with their lives to win. If their last summer ends in humiliation because of your mistake… How would we ever face them?Losing isn't scary. But you can't lose like this."
"Phew."
"Don't worry—Shirakawa-san will be fine. If he weren't, the doctor wouldn't let him watch from the sidelines.
After the game, I'll go apologize with you."
After delivering those harsh but necessary words, Sendo softened his tone.
With his chin resting on Sawamura's shoulder, Sendo already knew the answer—without even looking.
How many years had they been together?
He lifted his chin, turned around, and started to walk away.
"…I—"
Hearing Sawamura speak, Sendo stopped, but didn't turn back.
"I want to keep fighting! Like a warrior! We'll win—and then I'll kneel and apologize to Shirakawa-san!"
Sendo started walking again.
From the corner of his mouth, it was clear—he was in a very good mood.
Because he knew that while Sawamura's technique hadn't changed, his heart had undergone a massive transformation.
"Thanks, Sendo. You really are incredible. Even in a situation like this, you can still save the team,"
Miyuki said with a smile, watching Sendo's back.
The seniors felt the same deep gratitude.
"So cool…"
Haruichi's eyes sparkled with admiration.
Fanboy +1.
"Man, it's really great that this idiot's such a chunibyo,"
Sendo muttered to himself as he headed back to the outfield.
He was completely unaware that he himself was just as chunibyo.
...
"He's mentally tough, but he's still just a first-year. And he's the one guarding the door to Koshien. There's no way he wouldn't feel pressure. Sawamura might be fine… At some point, everyone started believing that.
If Sendo hadn't been here, we'd have been done for…"
Phew.
"By the way—is that guy really only fifteen? He's six months younger than Sawamura, right? And a year younger than me…"
After finishing that heavy self-reflection, Miyuki naturally slipped back into complaining mode.
Just like after the first practice game where he lost to Chris.
...
"Is dying really better than losing…?"
Sawamura thought to himself.
...
"YAAOOO!!!"
A few seconds later, a beast-like roar echoed across the field.
"This is bad…What on earth did that center fielder say to the pitcher? He's not just unbroken—he looks like a wild beast now," Shirakawa said as he watched the roaring figure.
Inashiro's players finally realized—
They had no choice but to truly face the pitcher standing in their way.
Because that figure reminded them of someone.
The Narumiya Mei who had stood in Seidou's path last year.
...
"Even though Sawamura's problem is solved, now it's the heart of the lineup. And Carlos is the pinch-runner.
This really is the worst possible situation. Inashiro usually isn't a team that takes reckless risks…But if he steals successfully…A single hit could end the game.
What are they going to do? That guy Sendo just went back to the outfield without giving me any advice!
If it were him, he'd definitely have some kind of idea…"
At this life-or-death moment, Miyuki hesitated slightly.
In the end, he looked toward the bench.
"Don't rush. Focus on the batter. Get one more out, and the inning's over. Settle this head-on."
As he thought that, Coach Kataoka sent Miyuki a clear showdown sign.
"This isn't like you, you scheming glasses guy. If you can't get the batter out, then even without a steal it doesn't matter—the cleanup hitter's next. But if you do get the batter out, the steal means nothing. Letting the runner distract you and give the batter an opening—that's just digging your own grave."
Out in the field, Sendo watched Miyuki and could tell—
even he was getting overwhelmed by the pressure.
"Bottom of the 11th inning, two outs, runner on first!
Now at the plate, Inashiro's No. 3 hitter, third baseman Yoshizawa! Can Inashiro seize this golden opportunity?!"
"YAAAH!"
Yoshizawa shouted to vent his own pressure.
"A left-handed pitcher with a hidden release point and nasty pitches! First thing I need to do is adjust to his velocity! No wishful thinking—this guy's state is just as terrifying as Mei's."
Yoshizawa kept warning himself.
Like the first two batters, he stood very close to the plate—but unlike them, he didn't lean his upper body over to block it.
He couldn't be sure whether the pitcher in front of him—with eyes like a wild beast—would still have the nerve to go inside.
If he took that posture, he wouldn't be able to hit inside pitches.
And Sawamura's inside pitches had been razor-sharp.
The hit-by-pitch just now was an accident.
They couldn't gamble their fate on something like that.
"First pitch—let's go outside again. It might be a bit hittable, but the ball has life. It won't be easy to square up. And it'll boost Sawamura's confidence."
With that, Miyuki gave the first sign.
"Attack, Sawamura!"
"Finish him here!"
"Focus on the batter!"
"Let him hit it!"
"If it comes, we kill it!"
Jun's shout meant: if the ball comes our way, we will get the out.
"It's strange…I can hear everyone's voices so clearly.
That must mean I'm calm, right? Sendo was right.
If I lose here, I'll have no face to show the seniors."
(Sawamura misunderstood this slightly…)
"Focus on the batter. Getting the batter out—that's the pitcher's job."
Sawamura glanced at Carlos on first, then prepared to pitch.
As a left-hander with two outs, Carlos couldn't be too aggressive.
What Carlos didn't know was—
If Sawamura were in his normal state, he'd be glaring at him like a feral cat and throwing constant pick-offs.
But right now, Sawamura was simply terrifying.
His usual forced fierce look didn't even compare to this calm, predator-like gaze.
Carlos was shaken by that single look—without realizing it, he edged a bit closer to the base for comfort.
At this point, Sawamura's pick-off technique was already solid.
With his current state layered on top, his mechanics were flawless.
Watching the batter, he lifted his leg.
For a left-hander, the instant the leg comes up, the runner can't tell whether it's a pitch or a pick-off.
"Whoosh!"
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
Carlos didn't dare move, and Yoshizawa—still reading the pitch—didn't swing either.
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