"Nice pitch, Taiyou."
"Haha, our ace is so reliable!"
"Taiyou, Taiyou, Taiyou!"
"Let's go, let's go, Teito! Go, go, Teito!"
With effortless precision, Mukai Taiyou and Kengo smoothly took down Seidou's first and second batters. Their performance was no less impressive than Eijun's, and this kind of spectacular pitching captivated the entire audience. A high-level, evenly matched ga—
That's what makes for the best kind of competition.
Impeccable control, intelligent pitching, and that crisp, satisfying sound— the pitcher's strength perfectly drawn out by the catcher. This battery was undoubtedly formidable.
But opportunities still existed!
Tap.
Steady footsteps pressed into the muddy field.
A surge of intensity.
Eijun stepped into the batter's box, his expression calm and composed.
"Batting third, pitcher, Sawamura-kun."
Here we go, Sawamura Eijun. I've been waiting for this mont for a long ti!
The blue-and-white figure, the resolute expression— as Eijun stepped into the box, Mukai Taiyou, standing atop the pitcher's mound, instinctively adjusted his cap. His lips curled into a feral grin, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
At this mont, both players' intensity reached its peak.
"Heh, a showdown between the aces."
"Two outs, bases empty. If he can keep the lineup moving, things could get interesting."
"Right now, both sides seem evenly matched in montum."
"This is getting exciting."
"Haha, one of the biggest highlights of the ga— will the newly promoted No. 3 batter, Sawamura, break through this three-dinsional pitching, or will Mukai suppress Seidou's ace?"
"Well, it's not exactly his first ti. Sawamura batted third in the previous qualifying match too."
"Yeah, yeah, but this is the main tournant. Don't get caught up in the details!"
From the stands, the mont Eijun stepped up to the plate, the spectators sat up straighter, their gazes locked onto the field.
Not even the rain could dampen their excitent.
Among them were not just regular fans, but also scouts from other schools— figures like Fujio and Okumura— all fixated on this crucial first matchup.
Who would seize control of the ga's early rhythm?
This at-bat would tell.
Standing in the batter's box, Eijun gave his bat a small twirl, took a deep breath, and fixed his gaze on Taiyou. The drizzle slightly blurred his vision, but he could still make out the pitcher's silhouette, his stance, and the position of his glove.
A preference for painting the edges.
Using depth in three dinsions to control his pitches, creating subtle misjudgnts for batters— Kuramochi and Haruichi had already fallen into that trap earlier.
Whether high or low, every pitch had just enough movent to cause hesitation.
That ant adjusting for that variability was the key to making solid contact.
"...!"
Then, let's test just how much of a deviation this really is.
A short grip?
Behind ho plate, Teito's captain, Kengo, narrowed his eyes in thought. A brief pause— one second— before he made a decision, subtly shifting his fingers beneath his glove.
Keep everything low, Taiyou.
"Understood."
Confident but never arrogant, Mukai was not one to underestimate his opponent.
Even when facing soone he was determined to defeat, he remained ticulous, executing his pitches with a mix of precision and boldness. His so-called "recklessness" was rely a facet of his natural pitching style.
The stronger the opponent, the more cautious Mukai beca— channeling 120% of his power.
A dance on the edge of a blade.
Whoosh.
His body lowered, his left arm swung forward.
A flash of brilliance burst forth.
A chilling gust rushed toward the plate, sending a shiver through Eijun's entire body.
The waves of emotion surged like a stormy sea inside Eijun, crashing against his composure. Instinctively, he gripped the tal bat with both hands and swung forcefully.
"Clang!"
A battle fought in 0.5 seconds, a swing off by just a fraction of an angle.
At the mont of contact between the ball and the bat, a tremor shot through Eijun's arms.
The sensation vibrating from the base of his grip made his expression shift slightly.
"Whoosh!"
"Bang!"
"Foul ball!!!"
The ball veered sharply, landing far beyond the third-base foul line.
Eijun clicked his tongue.
"That pitch placent was tricky… And that feeling—almost irresistible, making want to swing. But still… there's a slight roughness in his seemingly precise pitching. The deviation in location… about a ball's width lower? No, maybe half a ball."
His eyes narrowed, gripping the bat just a bit tighter.
He had a hypothesis. Now, it was ti to put it to the test.
The second pitch—still on the outer edge, but this ti, the deviation leaned slightly inward.
"Whoosh!"
The ball zipped through the air.
"Swoosh!"
"Clang!"
Another sharp collision rang out.
Eijun's expression remained unchanged. His bat followed through powerfully, and just as expected—
Another foul ball.
"Bang!"
"Foul!"
His eyes tracked the ball's trajectory, a glint of cold determination flickering within them.
Two swings, and I'm already making contact?
As expected of a pitcher—his ball-tracking sense was sharp. But now, with two strikes, the count was overwhelmingly in Teito's favor.
Kengo's gaze sharpened.
Now, this is where we finish it, Taiyou. No need to rush—stick to our rhythm.
A flash of electricity seed to pass through Inui's eyes as he subtly signaled the next pitch.
An inside fastball, slightly elevated. Taiyou, use your pinpoint control to shut him down!
Got it, Inui-senpai!!
A smirk crept onto Mukai's face.
His right leg lifted high before stepping down with force, and in an instant, a streak of white light exploded from his fingertips.
"Whoosh!"
Here it cos—inside fastball?!
Eijun's pupils contracted, locking onto the incoming ball.
His stance widened, his body coiling, adjusting his bat by just half a ball's width.
"Swoosh!"
A nearly full-powered swing.
Brilliant light flashed in the rain.
The white ball cut through the downpour, seeming almost suspended in ti.
The spinning sphere slowed—two tis, five tis, ten tis in his mind's eye.
Eijun's grip tightened.
Closer, closer, closer…
At the final mont—
That last step forward, that final split-second adjustnt—
A full-force swing.
"PING!!!"
A thunderous blast, dazzling and violent.
The mont of contact erupted like a lightning strike, sending a brilliant white streak surging into the sky.
Mukai and Kengo's faces twisted in disbelief.
The audience's eyes widened in shock.
"Whoosh!"
The streak of white shot through the storm, a blinding arc against the dark sky.
"BANG!!!"
Amidst the intensifying rain, the ball soared beyond the stadium—crashing into the massive electronic scoreboard.
A deep, resonant boom echoed.
And in that mont—
The entire stadium erupted in an uproar!!!
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