Chapter 255: Furuya in Peak Form
"Damn it! I almost whiffed that fastball completely!
This first-year… he's a monster! But seriously, compared to the games before this, he's on a whole other level now. His control's still not great, but the way his pitches jump around—there's barely anything hittable!"
"The guy who's supposed to be good at hitting fastballs, Carlos, almost swung and missed?
Just how fast is that heater!?"
"Pfft! It's no big deal!" Narumiya turned his head away, pouting in classic tsundere fashion.
Whizz—!
"Here it comes! That's a hittable one!"
"Strike! Batter's out!"
"Ah… that was a split-finger fastball!"
"Yoshi!"
"Strikeout!"
"Nice pitch, Furuya!"
"That's the perfect start!"
"Next batter—shortstop, Shirakawa!"
Carlos and Shirakawa exchanged a few words as they passed each other, but clearly Shirakawa wasn't listening.
"This guy's got solid contact, but he doesn't have much power," Miyuki assessed. He decided to overpower him with straight fastballs.
Shirakawa, of course, could guess what Miyuki was thinking. His build said it all.
Thud!
Just one pitch was enough to freeze Shirakawa mid-bunt, unable to even move his bat.
Once he gave up on bunting, Miyuki's strategy left him completely helpless.
There are just some things you can't do.
A couple of balls, a foul, and within moments—he was cornered.
"Pure brute force…"
Shirakawa, who'd been feeling proud of predicting Miyuki's plan, could only grit his teeth now, crushed by Furuya's raw, unrelenting power.
Even keeping up with that fastball was a miracle.
A straight pitch averaging around 150 km/h (93 mph) with that kind of pop—it's lethal for any high school batter.
Even though Furuya couldn't consistently keep his pitches low, his ability to hit both inside and outside corners at chest height was enough to dominate over 95% of high school hitters.
And Miyuki didn't give Shirakawa even a moment to breathe—one pitch after another, relentless.
Expecting a splitter like the one thrown to Carlos, Shirakawa braced himself for a breaking pitch.
Whizz!
Pop!
"Strike!"
"Batter's out!"
"All fastballs!" Shirakawa gritted out in frustration.
It wasn't hard to understand that pitch selection—those pitches had such power that he couldn't even bring himself to swing freely.
And against someone who could only hope to catch a lucky splitter, Miyuki didn't even give him the chance.
"Three batters, two strikeouts—he's in top condition!" Kominato said beside Sawamura.
"No! Not yet! That guy crashes out of nowhere all the time!" Sawamura replied, his competitive fire with Furuya burning just like Narumiya's.
"Furuya's really sharp today," Chris commented.
"Even when a few pitches are high, they're still landing solidly in the strike zone."
Miyuki thought the same—when Furuya's fastball consistently hit the zone, batters were forced to swing.
And when you added that splitter—which looked identical to a fastball until it dropped sharply—it was game over.
Furuya's mix of rising and sinking fastballs, inside and outside, was a nightmare to face.
By the time the third batter, Yoshizawa, came up, he too was battered and confused—without even seeing a single splitter.
But as the game went on, Furuya's adrenaline surged.
Sendo's calming words—"Relax and focus"—were starting to lose their effect.
For now, though, his rhythm was perfect.
Sendo hadn't expected him to keep it up for long anyway.
With Tokyo's brutal heat and Furuya's low stamina, dehydration was setting in fast.
He was still a first-year, after all—no one expected him to pitch the whole game.
Whizz!
Thud!
"Strike!"
"Batter's out!"
"Yoshi! Three batters, three strikeouts!"
The female managers cheered in excitement.
It was a flawless opening—momentum firmly on Seidou's side.
A three-run lead, and Furuya showing he wouldn't be taken down easily—the pressure shifted completely to Inashiro Industrial.
Three runs might not sound like much, but if you can't even touch the opposing pitcher, those runs become three mountains towering over you.
But Coach Kunimoto didn't flinch.
"Don't rush. It's only the first inning. Hold them steady—don't let them score again," he instructed calmly.
"Yes, sir!"
....
"Unbelievable! This guy—he's a monster!"
"Mmh…" Narumiya's gaze fixed sharply on Furuya, his cheeks puffed slightly in frustration.
It was the same expression Sawamura had worn before.
Slap!
"Nice pitching!" Sendo said, lightly patting Furuya's head with his glove.
"Mm!"
Furuya nodded obediently—almost glowing with happiness.
It was like he was floating on air.
"That splitter—you can throw it a bit higher. Their batters won't let a hittable one like that go by."
"I understand!" Furuya replied with serious eyes, his aura flaring like he was saluting a superior officer.
His admiration for Sendo had reached dangerous levels.
Good-natured, confident, playful with Miyuki, always looking out for him—and most importantly, Sendo was one of the few who actually talked to him.
(Though, in truth, Sendo only found Furuya's quietness entertaining.)
In the original timeline, Furuya often ignored Miyuki's calls completely.
But when Sendo spoke—he listened.
"Ah! I'm so thirsty…"
"Drink some water, drink!" Sendo said as he walked ahead, leaving behind a blissfully happy Furuya.
Since changing sides takes a bit of time, Sendo grabbed a bottle of water and wandered over to Chris-senpai, glancing at the scorebook.
"Now that's rare—you actually taking an interest in the scorebook. What do you want to know?" Chris asked with a gentle smile.
"Inashiro's batting lineup—they haven't swung at Furuya's high pitches yet, have they?"
"No, not yet."
"Figures. They've probably decided to ignore those and wait for easier pitches instead. But… at some point, they might suddenly start targeting that high fastball."
"True enough. Do you have any ideas?"
"Nope. None at all. I'll just leave pitch-calling to that scheming four-eyes." Sendo waved it off and walked away.
Chris chuckled. "So… he's made up his mind, huh?"
Watching Sendo walk out of the dugout, swapping his water bottle for a bat and heading toward the bullpen, Chris smiled knowingly. He had already guessed why Sendo had come to check the scorebook.
"What?" Ota, the manager, asked in confusion.
"You'll understand after his next at-bat," Chris replied.
"?" Ota still looked completely lost.
Following Sendo's advice, Tanba-senpai carefully warmed up, making sure to stretch every joint. In a match this critical, he wouldn't allow even the smallest mistake to drag the team down.
After a quick greeting, Sendo started his practice swings with unusual focus. Tanba had never seen him so serious before. Because of that, nobody dared to interrupt him—not even with small talk.
"The top of the second inning! Seidou High School's attack! Batting seventh—catcher, Miyuki!"
Miyuki stepped into the batter's box with his usual grin. Against most pitchers, that smile would rattle their nerves. But against Narumiya, it only fired him up even more.
Pop!
"Ball!"
Narumiya, managing his stamina carefully, didn't throw his full-power fastball. After all, Miyuki was technically part of the "bottom order."
Even in his past life, Narumiya always conserved energy against batters other than his rival, Sawamura. This time was no different—except that Sendo now existed. And as the team trailing behind, Inashiro was about to begin their tug-of-war.
Whoosh!
Pop!
"Strike!"
Two consecutive fastballs made Miyuki wary.
He guessed the next one would be a changeup—and he was right. But Inashiro's battery didn't back down, even knowing that Miyuki had predicted the pitch.
Clang!
Pop!
"Out!"
The sharp change in speed between the fastball and changeup threw off his timing. Even knowing the pitch type, he grounded out weakly between first and second base.
"Man, Sendo's so lucky… that speed difference doesn't affect him like it does me," Miyuki thought bitterly as he walked back to the bench.
In truth, Sendo didn't like swinging at changeups so early either. He'd told Miyuki before—"If it's a changeup that could fall out of the strike zone, I'd probably whiff."
And when even someone with such incredible pitch perception says that, you'd think Miyuki would listen… but he's as stubborn as ever.
"Don't worry, don't worry! Same old problem as before—when there's no runner on base!" Sawamura called out teasingly as Miyuki returned to the dugout.
"You weren't even trying to comfort me, were you!?" Miyuki snapped back.
"Batting eighth—pitcher, Furuya!"
The moment Furuya stepped up to bat, Narumiya's expression changed—showing that mischievous grin of his, the one that said he wanted to bully the rookie.
According to Harada, Narumiya was "narrow-minded"—he just couldn't help but feel competitive toward younger players.
"Don't overthink it. Just be an idiot. A happy idiot," Sawamura said cryptically as usual.
"What kind of advice is that?" Kawakami muttered.
"He means—keep your mind clear and don't think too much," Sendo groaned from the bullpen, holding his head in embarrassment.
"Can an idiot even hit the ball though? Fine then—take this! Inside-corner fastball!" Narumiya grinned.
But because of his relaxed mindset, the "inside-corner fastball" drifted right down the middle.
Ping!
"Ugh…" Narumiya's face froze as the ball was hit.
"Foul ball!"
"My swing was too fast," Furuya muttered.
He had swung as if facing the 150 km/h machine from yesterday's practice.
As a power pitcher with explosive strength, his natural bat speed was already much higher than average.
Even Sawamura, whose fastball wasn't that fast, could generate tremendous power thanks to his whip-like flexibility—though it also made his control unpredictable.
So for Furuya, who was used to 150 km/h pitches, Narumiya's mid-140s straight fastball felt almost slow.
"Did the idiot virus spread? Narumiya too now?" Sendo muttered, glancing at Sawamura while stroking his chin.
After the pitch, Narumiya tried to act like nothing happened, slipping back into his "king" persona (though he was clearly irritated). He called for the ball again.
"What was that pitch right down the middle!? You moron!" Harada scolded.
"Just shut up and throw me the ball!"
"You bastard…" Harada grumbled but tossed it back anyway.
Watching them, Sendo remembered a saying:
"Never try to outsmart an idiot. He'll drag you down to his level—then beat you with experience."
It fit perfectly for both Sawamura and Narumiya.
"This is unbelievable…" Sendo muttered, completely dumbfounded.
Still, Narumiya only stayed "idiotic" for that one pitch.
Once annoyed, he quickly regained his form—mixing a sharp slider from outside to inside, followed by a fastball that jammed Furuya inside, then another on the outer corner. He used the full width of the strike zone to strike Furuya out decisively.
As for the ninth batter, Itai… well, let's just say there's not much to talk about.
He'd basically become a "nameless role player," existing mainly to handle outfield defense or to sub in when Furuya was pulled off the mound.
Meanwhile, Shirasu—the reliable outfielder—usually only came in as a last-resort defensive reinforcement. Having him sit on the bench was pure luxury.
If the elite team from Gakushuin saw Seidou benching someone like Shirasu, they'd probably cry out of frustration. In another school like Sakurazawa, he'd be an untouchable cleanup hitter.
Yes, Shirasu definitely wasn't a "nameless" player. In fact, someone with a small mustache up in the stands had his eyes fixed on him as Seidou's next key batter.
And so, while Miyuki's out set the tone for the inning, Inashiro's half would open with their own cleanup—the one every fan was waiting for.
Inashiro's supporters were desperate for their core hitters to close the gap and take back control of the game. If they didn't, the pressure would only keep building.
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