Chapter 322: A Saint Never Falls for the Same Trick Twice
"Bottom of the second inning! Seidou High's offense!
Cleanup! Center fielder—Sendo!"
As the announcement echoed, Sendo stood up and slowly walked toward the batter's box.
The stadium quieted down a little.
Only Seidou's cheering section continued to shout in rhythm with the brass band.
"Sendo! Hit a home run! A home run!"
Sawamura's voice rang out clearly.
No matter what, being a first-year cleanup meant facing doubt.
The Koshien crowd hadn't seen the regional qualifiers.
Hearing the stats was impressive, sure—but they didn't truly know the level of West Tokyo this year.
They were waiting for Sendo's first at-bat, hoping for a dazzling performance.
Even if his debut wasn't great, no one would criticize him—batting was like that.
But if he failed to perform consistently, that would be different.
With Furuya's shocking performance fresh in their minds, the audience watched the Super Diamond Generation's main gun with both expectation and scrutiny.
"Alright, everyone!!! This is our Seidou's Demon King!
A warm smile on the surface—but pitch-black inside!
At least remember that before you go home!"
Sawamura boasted to the crowd like an artist showing off his masterpiece.
"Something feels off…"
Even Sawamura muttered to himself afterward.
"What are you even showing off for?! Hurry up and pitch!"
Miyauchi-senpai couldn't take it anymore.
Still, the encouraging, expectant looks betrayed his true feelings.
Sendo had always been stable as a core batter before.
But in high school baseball, the cleanup spot was special—it was like carrying the whole team alone.
The seniors worried Sendo might overthink it.
Even knowing that wasn't his personality, they still wanted to protect him, like elders sheltering a junior under their wings.
That kind of senior–junior atmosphere had always been Seidou's tradition.
"Huu…"
Sendo ignored the noisy guy nearby, took a deep breath, steadied himself, and looked toward the mound.
In that instant, the pitcher felt pressure.
Aura didn't really exist—but imagination made it real enough.
From the footage, this guy is completely different from spring.
I absolutely can't throw him anything easy.
The footage Shiraha meant was the game against Sensen.
Their buck-toothed coach had ultimately decided not to show them the final's video.
Now it seemed like a wise decision—at least the players hadn't developed fear of this powerful lineup.
Use foul balls to make him throw more, Sendo recalled Kataoka's instruction for his first at-bat.
Looking back, Onii-san had been retired because of exactly that.
"Whoosh!"
"Ball!"
The first pitch was Ino's finishing pitch—an inside forkball.
So this is his forkball now…
I knew something was off with that angle, Sendo thought as the ball popped into the mitt.
Baseball was a sport where seventy percent was strategy and tactics.
Even wild players couldn't just brute-force it.
Even Tetsu—despite being a natural airhead—thought things through.
"Whoosh!"
"Ball!"
"Second pitch—a curve on the outside. They're being very cautious—Yokohama Kouhoku's battery."
"Indeed. They've probably watched Seidou's footage.
Powerhouse schools are managing information more and more like pro teams. But I don't think they'll walk Sendo. Once Sendo reaches base, his stolen-base success rate is terrifying—and the batter after him used to be this team's cleanup. Even without knowing Sendo's exact level, calling Yuki the true cleanup wouldn't be wrong."
"So Yokohama Kouhoku wants strikes."
"Exactly."
"You two talk too much!"
Hearing the commentators' analysis hit dead-on, catcher Shiraha nearly cursed out loud.
Of course, spectators loved stirring things up.
"Hit it, Sendo!"
"Hit it, Sendo!"
Because "Sendo" in Japanese had only two syllables, they stretched it out to four beats for more power.
Sawamura once again made his demon face, swinging his fists wildly in the bullpen beneath the stands, like a front-line commander.
He completely failed to notice Miyauchi-senpai's glare, which looked ready to devour him.
It's a coach's order—but if it's a hittable pitch, I won't be polite, Sendo thought as the Yokohama Kouhoku battery hesitated over the signs.
What counted as "hittable" to Sendo was like Jun-san—something that suited his taste.
After the pitcher shook his head three times, the sign was finally set.
Third pitch!
"Whoosh!"
Sendo frowned slightly at the incoming ball.
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"Alright! He swung! Not sure why, but this batter almost always swings at pitches that barely miss the zone. And those kinds of balls often turn into extra-base hits… But in this situation, they had to be aggressive!"
In truth, if Sendo really wanted to, he could've put it in play—a single at least.
But there was no need.
He remembered the coach's order.
From Sendo's perspective, that sunglasses-wearing uncle rarely gave him specific demands—so if he did, Sendo would meet them.
Otherwise, he'd be disrespecting all that previous freedom.
So Sendo activated his foul-ball strategy.
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"They've got him cornered!"
Thanks to Sendo's cooperation, Yokohama Kouhoku now had two strikes.
But things were about to get ugly…
"Whoosh!"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"Foul!"
"Foul!"
"That bastard—again?! Isn't this just like the second batter earlier?!"
"Whoosh!"
"Fastball? Hm?"
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
"Another foul! This one was the finishing forkball!
Sendo chopped down diagonally and sent it behind him! The bat even carved a mark into the dirt in front of home plate!"
The commentator narrated as the replay rolled on the big screen.
"Saints never fall for the same trick twice!"
Sawamura showed off his random knowledge again.
This guy read everything—and had recently gone nostalgic, rereading Saint Seiya…
"Thwack!"
"Ow!"
Sawamura immediately took a knife-hand chop from Onii-san.
The idiot had completely forgotten—
The one who got retired by that exact pitch earlier…
was Onii-san himself.
That line was basically begging for it.