Diamond No Ace: The Strongest Hitter

Chapter 106: End of the Second Round Battle

"Hey, hey! Are we sure about this? All of us moving into the infield feels a bit nerve-wracking!" Omura, one of the outfielders, muttered as he felt a chill run between his legs.

While the nine-player infield looked risky, it was actually the most suitable strategy for Sawamura's pitch quality and the skill level of junior high baseball tournaments.

Susabano's third turn at the top of their batting order was no joke. With such a large defensive area in the infield, it was nearly impossible to stop every ground ball. But with nine infielders, weak hits could be easily neutralized.

In reality, without understanding Sawamura's unique pitch quality, the nine-player infield appeared reckless but was actually an unbreakable and shameless strategy.

"Are they underestimating me?!" Susabano's second batter shouted, pointing at himself while frantically seeking confirmation from his teammates.

"Calm down! It might be the opposite—they're probably taking you very seriously. At least, that's my guess."

"What?!"

"Look, it's a fact that we haven't hit any balls to the outfield this game. The nine-player infield is their way of saying they don't trust themselves to stop our hits—they're practically conceding if we manage to hit to the outfield.

That kind of strategy… it's not like they'd willingly give up the win, right?" Takase, the catcher, reasoned as he reassured the second batter.

"Alright then, watch me hit it to the outfield!"

"Forget the short-swing strategy for making contact with the ball. Switch to an upward swing to send it flying out!"

"Got it!"

The game resumed.

"Ei-chan! Face them head-on!" Shin called out.

"Right!" Sawamura nodded deeply and began his windup.

Whoosh!

Pop!

"Strike!"

"Are you serious? Throwing it straight down the middle at this critical moment? Takase was right—they're betting it all on this!

But… so are we!"

The batter suppressed his earlier anger at being underestimated and refocused.

The second pitch came hurtling in.

"Inside corner! A hittable pitch!"

Crack!

"What?!" The batter, swinging with an upward motion, felt an uncomfortable sensation in his hands.

The ball soared high into the air.

"Ei-chan! I've got it! I've got it!" Shin shouted anxiously, seeing the ball land between the pitcher and catcher. He couldn't trust their ace to make the catch.

Pop!

"Out!"

"Damn it! What was with that feel?" The batter slammed his bat into the ground, frustration radiating from him.

"Don't let it bother you," the third batter consoled him.

The second batter wanted to warn his teammate, but he couldn't find the words. With a heavy sigh, he patted his teammate on the shoulder and returned to the bench.

"The Susabano batter completely failed to execute. Were they too eager to hit it to the outfield? Well, the nine-player infield does make it nearly impossible to hit properly to the infield," the commentator analyzed.

This unconventional strategy placed significant psychological pressure on the opponent. Whether it was anger or the overwhelming urge to hit to the outfield, both emotions disrupted their concentration.

"One out!" Shin rallied his team, boosting their morale.

The battle continued.

"Third batter, left fielder, Obayashi-kun!"

"Third batter, left fielder, Obayashi-kun!"

"This is getting interesting. A nine-player infield is absolute madness! But, short of hitting to the outfield, there's no other way to exploit it."

"As chaotic as it seems, this strategy is incredibly effective. Akagi Junior High is such a fascinating team!'

"By the way, isn't Akagi made up entirely of second-year players? And their pitcher relies on pitches within the strike zone to decide the game.'

"Alright then, let's settle this, seniors!"

Obayashi stepped up to the plate, ready to face the challenge. The umpire signaled for play to resume.

"I don't know what strategy they'll use against me, but I can only do one thing!" Sawamura thought, standing on the pitcher's mound.

Pop!

"Strike!" The umpire raised his right hand as the ball landed firmly in the catcher's glove.

"Even at this point in the game, his pitch power hasn't diminished. The velocity is impressive. Still, it's not unhittable," Obayashi analyzed.

The second pitch came.

Crack!

"Foul ball!"

"Was my timing off? It felt right!

This isn't good—I'm being forced into a corner. Will they throw a bad pitch to mess with me?" Obayashi thought, his mind racing. He hadn't even noticed how his bat connected with the ball earlier.

"Huh?" Before he could think further, Akagi's pitcher and catcher gave him no time to breathe.

Pop!

"Strike three! Swing and a miss! Two outs!"

"Yes!" Akagi's players erupted in cheers, their voices echoing across the field.

"Eijun! As the ace, lead the team to victory!" Sendo thought as he watched the game unfold.

Standing up, Sendo called out loudly, reminding his team not to get complacent.

"Fourth batter, first baseman, Ogiyama-kun!"

"Fourth batter, first baseman, Ogiyama-kun!"

"Please, Ogiyama! Get a hit! Don't let the game end like this!"

"Just five pitches to get two outs. What do I do? An upward swing risks missing the ball entirely, but…" Ogiyama glanced at the nine infielders and let out a sigh.

The reality of the situation was simple: with regular swings, even if the timing wasn't perfect, the overlap between the bat's trajectory and the ball's path meant it was rare to completely miss a fastball.

However, with an upward "scoop" swing, there was only a single contact point, significantly increasing the chances of swinging and missing. While this technique could send the ball high and far, it was far less consistent.

Against a nine-player infield, a missed swing was no different from a poorly hit ground ball. This made the strategy incredibly frustrating, especially for a team unable to hit for power.

"Just one more! One more batter and we'll win!" Sawamura silently repeated to himself as he stared down the batter.

"Bring it on!"

Whoosh!

"Eh?"

Pop!

"Ball!"

"The first pitch was an inside ball, but it missed just slightly," the commentator said, fully immersed in the game.

"What's going on, Ei-chan?" Shin began to worry. He had asked for strikes—even if they were a little easier to hit.

"Another pitch!"

Pop!

"Ball!"

Another miss.

"What should we do?" Shin was starting to feel the pressure.

"Heh," Sendo chuckled softly as he stood up, drawing attention from both teams.

"The Akagi bench is making a move. Akagi Junior High's No. 10—essentially the team's coach—is giving instructions on the field. Could this mean another strategic shift? No, the infield isn't moving, so it must be advice related to the last two missed pitches. But what could it be?" The commentator's enthusiastic voice echoed across the field, heightening the tension in this critical moment.

"Heh, straight down the middle, Sendo? You're really not afraid of losing, are you?" Sawamura couldn't help but grin as he saw the signal.

"Honestly, it's strange. No matter what crazy tactics you come up with, we always feel confident in executing them. After all, isn't it us proving your wild strategies actually work, Sendo?!"

Whoosh!

"Straight down the middle?"

Pop!

"Strike!"

"Swing and miss! Susabano's fourth batter, Ogiyama, swung through a fastball straight down the middle! That's one strike and two balls. Here comes the next pitch..."

Whoosh!

Crack!

"A foul ball behind the catcher! Could it be caught?!"

"Let it drop!" Ogiyama shouted in desperation, praying the ball wouldn't be caught.

At this point, a catch would end everything.

"It dropped! The catcher couldn't grab it, so it's just a foul ball! But Susabano is at the end of their rope now. They're down to one strike, and with no more balls to give, they'll have to swing even at questionable pitches. If the last pitch results in anything but a hit—whether it's a grounder, a fly ball, or a strikeout—the game is over!"

The commentator's excited narration stirred the audience's emotions, completely oblivious to the immense pressure it placed on the batter.

The nine-player infield formation had little room for error, with backup players ready to field any potential mistakes. As long as there wasn't a catastrophic error, the defense would hold.

"We don't need bad pitches. Don't give them any breathing room—end this now!" Sendo thought to himself.

"Straight down the middle! Ten times over!" the players on the field collectively chanted in their minds as Sawamura raised his arm.

"This is it. Inside or outside? Maybe a slightly off-center ball? I can't leave my fate to the umpire now!" Ogiyama thought, trying to anticipate the pitch.

Crack!

"Straight down the middle?" Ogiyama froze in disbelief as his bat connected poorly, sending the ball rolling weakly on the ground.

Ono quickly fielded the grounder and threw to first base, where the fielder was already smiling, anticipating the win.

Pop!

"Out! Game over!"

"Ahhhh!" Sawamura shouted in elation from the pitcher's mound.

The Akagi players, including Wakana, ran toward Sawamura, celebrating their hard-fought victory.

The nine infielders huddled together in the middle of the field, while Sendo, sitting on the bench, couldn't hide the smirk on his face.

"After an hour-long deadlock, Akagi Junior High emerges victorious and earns the right to challenge Tokugawa Junior High in the second-round battle! Last year, Akagi suffered a crushing defeat in the fall tournament, but now they've re-emerged as a dark horse! Let's look forward to tomorrow's game!"

None of Akagi's players heard the commentator's broadcast—they were too busy celebrating.

Little did anyone know, a lone figure in the stands had been silently observing Sendo.

Fumino had arrived without warning, but after the game, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to Sendo, asking him to pick her up.

Since she was already here, she wasn't planning on leaving without making an appearance.

"Line up!"

Both teams, including the substitutes, lined up for the customary post-game bow. Sendo, still officially a substitute player, joined in.

"Salute!"

"Thank you for the match!"

"Senpai, we lost today, but let's play again sometime!" Despite their defeat, Susabano's mostly first-year players took it in stride, quickly bouncing back from their disappointment.

"Of course! Let's play again!" Sawamura cheerfully responded.

"Next time, we'll win!"

"And we won't lose, either!"

Sawamura's outgoing personality made it easy for him to connect with the younger players.

Meanwhile, after the formalities, Sendo returned to the bench to start packing up.

Despite how intense the game had seemed, once Sendo realized that Susabano had no clue about Sawamura's pitch quality, the outcome was already decided.

The nine-player infield was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but pressing the infield and outfield forward was something Akagi often did—it was just taken to an extreme this time.

...

"Furuhashi-san! You watched the game?" For some reason, Sawamura showed great respect for Fumino.

"Yes, it was a beautiful performance, Sawamura!"

"Really? Thank you!" Sawamura scratched his head sheepishly, thanking her politely.

"Why is he using honorifics? And why does Eijun listen to her so obediently?" Sendo wondered, internally grumbling.

It seemed Fumino's brilliance as an academic genius naturally commanded respect—or so Sendo thought.

In reality, Sawamura was a big fan of romance novels, and Fumino, with her knack for emotionally powerful writing, had earned his admiration. But Sendo had no clue about this.

"Good luck! I'll come watch your game tomorrow!" Fumino said with a hint of longing in her gaze toward Sendo. He sensed something but couldn't figure out what he'd done.

Moments later, "Ouch!" Sendo's waist suffered again, as Fumino pinched him—a personal habit rather than a cultural trait.

"What did I even do?" Sendo asked aloud, confused.

Fumino ignored him and walked over to Wakana, starting a conversation.

"Argh! Sano-sensei, we won so hard today—treat us to yakiniku!" Sendo muttered quietly before shifting his focus to the team's coach, aiming to turn frustration into food.

"Alright, I'll treat everyone. Furuhashi-san, you're welcome to join too!" Sano generously agreed, understanding how hard-fought the match had been.

He also knew that tomorrow's game against Tokugawa would be a brutal uphill battle.

The gap between the teams was glaringly obvious, a difference not easily bridged. While no one knew for sure how the game would end, the odds heavily favored Tokugawa.

Tomorrow's game would be intense, but an upset seemed unlikely—unless Akagi had a hidden ace up its sleeve. It did, but no one realized it yet.

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