Chapter 531: Inashiro Showdown – Realization
"Whoosh."
"Clang."
"Zoom."
"Shortstop!"
The sharply hit ball shot across the field.
Immediately, Eijun shouted loudly.
To his right, Kuramochi lunged with a sliding step and intercepted the bouncing ball with ease.
"Smack."
He caught it cleanly in his glove.
"Out!"
"Three outs! Change!"
"The last pitch was an outside fastball. With precise control, it forced Inashiro's ninth batter into a high infield pop-up. The shortstop made the catch with perfect timing. Three outs—side retired. Despite the game being tied, Sawamura Eijun continues to show dominant form, shutting out the inning flawlessly."
"Nice pitch, Sawamura!"
"That's the rhythm! That's the momentum we need from our ace!"
"Keep it up, Eijun!"
"Let's go, Sawamura!!"
"Seidou! Seidou! Seidou!"
Although there had been a minor hiccup in this inning, it was just the bottom of the order. Compared to Inashiro's fearsome top lineup, their threat level was much lower.
Eijun had scaled back his power slightly, but still managed to suppress their offense completely—
Even he let out a quiet breath of relief.
"Well done, Sawamura!"
"Awesome job, Ace!"
"Keep shutting them down, Sawamura!"
As he returned to the dugout, the Seidou team greeted him with genuine smiles.
Their ace was strong—strong in both pitching and batting. So what if the other side had the "Prince of Tokyo"?
They believed that victory would ultimately be theirs.
Tojo, Kanemaru, Asou, and Sekimichi were brimming with confidence. After all, their ace had climbed to the top. The opposing ace didn't have the same proven record!
"I'm gonna go change my undershirt. I'm all sticky—it's uncomfortable..." Eijun smiled lightly as he spoke.
"Oh! Go ahead!"
He nodded and stepped into the locker room behind the bench.
Once there, he pretended to change his gear—but his true focus was checking on his left arm.
It was clearly swollen.
Seeing the reddish, puffy area made Eijun's brows furrow deeply.
He touched it gently with his right hand—and a sharp pain pierced through him like a knife.
"Damn... it's worse than before the game even started. Can I really hold out until the end...?"
He muttered in frustration.
Just then—he heard the slow approach of footsteps from behind.
Startled, he quickly pulled his sleeve down over his arm.
"You planning to gamble your future pro career away, Sawamura-kun?"
Before he could even turn around, a familiar lazy voice echoed behind him.
And the next moment, the figure stepped into view—
Eijun froze in place.
Coach Ochiai.
"That collision at first base yesterday, right? You hid your injury. That wild pitch in the first inning? Probably due to the pain in your arm affecting your control. Hmph. That swelling... it's from pushing too hard—overstimulating the blood flow and making the injury worse, right?"
Ochiai stepped forward, eyes calmly scanning Eijun's arm. His words, spoken as if he'd witnessed it firsthand—paired with that all-seeing gaze—
left Eijun speechless.
"I-It's not that bad... I just threw fine earlier..."
"Yeah, and that's exactly why Coach Kataoka and I haven't pulled you yet. Otherwise, do you really think you'd still be standing on that mound?"
Ochiai cut him off with a wave of his hand.
"But you need to understand something. Neither Coach Kataoka nor I will let you go overboard. Right now, you're clearly approaching your limit."
"No, I think I can still hold on—"
"Hold on till when?"
Ochiai interrupted again, more firmly this time.
"That's not up to you. Coach Kataoka and I will decide that. Got it, Sawamura-kun?"
Eijun's eyes hardened slightly.
Then, he took a deep breath—and reluctantly nodded.
"...Yes, I understand, Coach Ochiai."
"Good. Just remember this: you still have two years of high school ahead. Don't destroy yourself over a single game."
"Yes, sir."
Eijun's tense fists slowly unclenched.
"Alright, let's go."
Ochiai nodded with satisfaction and strolled out of the room with his hands behind his back.
Eijun quickly threw on his uniform and followed behind.
As they stepped back onto the field—
Eijun's eyes met Coach Kataoka's.
It was a calm, unreadable gaze—but it carried weight.
It made Eijun's heart feel uneasy.
"What did Coach Ochiai talk to you about?"
Just then, Miyuki approached, having finished putting on his catcher gear.
He asked curiously.
"Oh, just some pitching feedback. He gave me a few tips." Eijun replied without changing his expression.
"Ohhh, I see."
Miyuki didn't think much of it—this was a normal part of Coach Ochiai's role, after all.
In the dugout, only two people knew the truth.
Kuramochi and Haruichi both stiffened slightly, exchanging subtle glances in Ochiai's direction.
When they caught his knowing smirk—they instantly understood what had happened.
"Huh? Already in full gear?"
Eijun blinked at Miyuki.
"Look for yourself."
Miyuki nodded toward the field.
Eijun turned—and his expression instantly sharpened.
"Whoosh."
"Smack."
"Strike!!"
"Third pitch—he went for an inside fastball! After consecutively retiring Seidou's sixth and seventh batters, Inashiro's ace, Narumiya-kun, goes on the offensive again, aggressively challenging Seidou's No. 8 batter, Asou-kun, with three straight pitches!"
Damn it, damn it—don't swing at that pitch!
In the batter's box, Seidou's No. 8 hitter, Asou, gripped his bat tightly, a grimace twisting his face.
This feeling—being completely dominated and toyed with by the pitcher—was utterly frustrating.
"Whoosh!"
Another blazing pitch screamed toward him.
"Boom!"
A rush of wind exploded from the mound—the fastball roaring in like a beast.
Asou's face changed.
He stepped out with his left leg and whipped the bat with force.
"Swoosh!"
"Clang!!"
No good—he fell for it!
Feeling the sting in his palms from the impact, Asou's expression turned even worse.
"Zoom!"
"Thud!"
The ball bounced sharply off the ground in front of home plate.
"Third base!"
Inashiro's third baseman, Yabe, casually took a step and got in front of the ball.
He scooped it cleanly into his glove, then flicked it backhanded toward first.
"Whip!"
"Pop!"
Just as Asou was taking off from the box, Inashiro's first baseman, Yamaoka, had already caught the ball squarely in his mitt.
Out.
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