Diamond no Ace: My Sharingan

Chapter 450 - 450: The Invisible Pitch

Bottom of the fifth inning.Seido High School Baseball Team was on offense.

By now, the players of Kōhoku High School Baseball Team had almost been beaten into submission.

They no longer cared how many runs they had lost.

At this moment, only one obsession remained—

To score.

Even a single run.

As long as they could put something on the board, even just for their own peace of mind, it would be enough to ease the crushing pressure in their hearts.

Facing a national powerhouse like Seido, they might look pitiful…

But they weren't completely powerless.

Their strength was simply lacking.

And as long as they could grow stronger, there would always be a chance to redeem themselves.

But being completely shut out?

That was their nightmare.

On the other side, Seido's batters felt an unexpected sense of dullness.

Looking at opponents who had nearly given up resistance…

Even scoring more runs didn't feel particularly meaningful.

It wasn't mercy.

They simply stopped pushing aggressively.

After all, continuing to pile on runs recklessly wasn't just bad sportsmanship—it could also push the opponent into desperation.

And no one knew what a cornered opponent might do.

Don't drive a dog into a dead end.

Seido had learned that lesson well.

As a team that often stood on the dominant side, they had seen too many similar situations—both their own and others'.

The best solution?

Slow the pace.

Even in Koshien finals, teams that exploded early would deliberately ease off later.

Seido did the same.

They only added two runs in the fifth inning.

Even so—

The score became:

14 : 0

For the fans from Kanagawa Prefecture, it was hard to keep watching.

Many lowered their heads in silence.

Top of the sixth inning.

Suddenly—

The Kōhoku players, who had looked completely drained just moments ago, came back to life.

They had to score.

That desire had reached an almost obsessive level.

No matter what, they needed a run.

To prove something.

To themselves.

Coach Kataoka's gaze shifted toward Sawamura Eijun.

This was the perfect opportunity.

With such a massive lead, there was no risk of losing control of the game.

What mattered now was development.

Who should be given experience?

The answer came immediately—

Sawamura.

The kid had been practically hovering in front of him, eager for a chance.

Although Coach Kataoka wasn't the type to reward persistence alone…

He didn't dislike it either.

In fact, he appreciated it.

A player who fights for opportunities—

Whether fielder or pitcher—

Was always worth noticing.

And more importantly—

Sawamura had something else.

A drive to face challenges head-on.

No matter the situation, he would step forward and try to solve it.

Whether he succeeded or not was secondary.

The mindset itself was a strength.

And Sawamura possessed both—

The will to act…

And the potential to back it up.

When Sawamura received the signal to take the mound—

There was no nervousness.

Only burning fighting spirit.

In this kind of one-sided game, many talented players would feel indifferent.

Victory was already decided.

There was no challenge.

No meaning in pitching now.

But Sawamura was different.

As long as he could play—

That was enough.

He didn't care about the score.

He didn't care about the difficulty.

He only had one thought:

I want to pitch.

And that thought was unwavering.

Pure.

Single-minded.

An Ace in the truest sense—

A player whose entire focus was on the game itself.

Nothing more.

When the Seido players saw Sawamura being sent out, they should have been surprised.

After all, the plan had been to send in Tanba.

And Tanba hadn't made any mistakes.

This decision…

Was deliberate.

Clearly, the Coach held Sawamura in high regard.

Yet strangely—

No one objected.

"…Isn't this kind of expected?"

Someone in the dugout suddenly muttered.

The others froze for a moment.

"…I thought I was the only one thinking that."

Another voice followed.

Soon, several players exchanged glances—

Then smiled knowingly.

Seeing Sawamura's constant eagerness…

Even they had felt it.

This guy is definitely going to play.

And if even they could see it—

Then there was no way Coach Kataoka hadn't noticed.

Coach Kataoka clearly shared the same thoughts as the others.

This was Seido.

Their players didn't rely on brute strength alone—they played with their minds.

On the field, they were always thinking ahead, analyzing the situation, considering the meaning behind every play.

So when they saw Sawamura step onto the mound—

There was no surprise.

Only understanding.

On the opposite side, however—

The players of Kōhoku High School Baseball Team felt nothing but fury.

When they saw Seido send in yet another first-year pitcher, their anger exploded.

If anger had a temperature, theirs would be burning at ten thousand degrees.

This wasn't just going too far—

Seido simply didn't take them seriously at all.

"They sent another first-year? Are we just target practice to them?!"

Blatant contempt.

With such a massive lead, Seido's actions looked less like competition…

And more like training.

"We can't let them keep humiliating us like this!"

"This is our home turf!"

"The people of Kanagawa are watching! If you can't even handle a first-year, what right do you have to stay on this team?!"

The Kōhoku Coach had completely lost his patience.

He had already instructed them clearly—don't swing early, wait for two strikes.

Yet none of them had listened.

Not a single one.

This was the final straw.

Reason had long since been burned away.

If shouting was what it took to wake them up—

Then he would shout.

The Kōhoku players lowered their heads.

It wasn't that they didn't understand.

They did.

But in that moment…

They simply couldn't control themselves.

Facing Furuya's pitch—

If they didn't swing, if they didn't fight back with everything they had—

It felt like they would drown.

Like they were being submerged, suffocated.

Only now did they realize how wrong they had been.

But at the time…

Who could have known?

Now—

Facing yet another first-year pitcher—

They clenched their fists.

Even if it was just to keep their Coach from completely losing it—

They had to show something.

They had to prove—

Kōhoku was not to be looked down on.

"Seventh batter!"

The first to step up was their seventh hitter—a power batter.

Though lower in the lineup, his strength was undeniable.

The moment he stepped into the batter's box, he set his stance.

Determined.

Ready.

Prepared to hit at all costs.

Behind the plate, Miyuki smirked.

Whatever this guy was thinking…

With that kind of approach, the result was already decided.

"Show him your specialty. Pitch."

On the mound, Sawamura didn't hesitate.

He lifted his leg high—

Then brought it down hard.

His center of gravity shifted smoothly.

And the ball—

Left his hand.

The Kōhoku batter had been confident.

Just a first-year.

No record. No reputation.

What could he possibly do?

Then—

His confidence shattered.

He couldn't see it.

The release point—

Was gone.

"…What?"

The batter froze.

Every pitcher, no matter how they wind up—

Reveals the release point.

But this time—

There was nothing.

Before he could process it—

"Swoosh!"

The ball was already there.

Too fast.

Too sudden.

Because he couldn't see the release, the pitch felt like it appeared out of nowhere.

The first pitch—

He let it go.

The second—

Too tricky.

He held back again.

Two strikes.

Cornered.

On the third pitch—

He had no choice.

He swung.

Clack!

Miss.

The ball slipped past the bat and slammed into the catcher's mitt.

"Strike!"

"Strikeout!!"

Silence.

The Kōhoku players and fans were stunned.

Another strikeout.

Zhou Hao was one thing—

A recognized monster.

Losing to him was understandable.

Furuya Satoru—

Even as a first-year, his overwhelming speed and pressure had already crushed them.

They had accepted that too.

But this—

This unknown first-year?

They had even felt a hint of relief when he took the mound.

Maybe—

Just maybe—

They could handle him.

Score a run.

Save some dignity.

Now—

That illusion shattered completely.

Even the crowd from Kanagawa was shaken.

"Is the gap really this big?"

"Kōhoku is still a national-level team…"

"How can even a substitute first-year pitcher be this strong?"

The more they thought about it—

The harder it was to accept.

But reality didn't care about their feelings.

"Ping!"

"Pa!!"

"Out!"

"Out!!"

Three outs.

Change of sides.

No runs.

Not even one.

At that moment—

Everyone from Kōhoku understood.

The result of this game…

Had already been decided.

Two first-year pitchers.

Both overwhelming.

Coach Kataoka would probably be smiling even in his sleep tonight.

And just like that—

The game moved toward the ninth inning.