Life As Sawamura Eijun Chapter 571: A Slightly Forced Offense

Chapter 571: A Slightly Forced Offense

“Clang!”

A sharp crack split the air.

From home plate, a flash of white light shot out, the ball ricocheting violently onto the dirt.

“Thud!”

“Foul ball!”

On the very first pitch, facing Tanba’s fierce opening assault, Tojo showed no signs of backing down. He swung with full power, his timing on point—but he completely missed the sweet spot of the ball.

The result: a foul down the third-base line.

The ball’s late movement was too strong, darting wildly off the bat—impossible to control.

Tojo frowned. His precision wasn’t where he wanted it to be. But shortening his grip on the bat wasn’t an option either. That would not only make it harder to neutralize the pitch’s power, but also leave him unable to reach outside pitches.

It was a dilemma. For Tojo, the only choice was to lock onto Tanba’s pitches no matter what—fight them off, even foul them off—but above all, refuse to be struck out. He would wait, and search for his chance.

Taking a breath, Tojo tightened his grip on the bat again.

The next pitch… probably a forkball down the middle.

That was his read.

But Chris had no intention of easing up on the attack. Almost as soon as Tojo reset his stance, Chris’s fingers twitched subtly beneath his mitt, flashing a signal.

On the mound, Tanba’s stride thundered forward, his right arm rising high—then whipping down with explosive force.

“Whoosh!”

A blinding streak tore through the air, hurling straight toward the plate.

Middle of the zone… a straight fastball!?

The white blur filled Tojo’s vision as he launched into his swing, throwing every ounce of strength into it. His legs drove, his torso twisted, his arms snapped forward—

“Swish!”

The bat cut through the air—

But at the very last moment, the ball dipped. Its velocity collapsed downward.

“Pop!”

It sank cleanly into Chris’s mitt with a crisp snap.

“Strike!”

“Damn… a forkball!?” Tojo’s brow furrowed.

It followed the exact path of a fastball… and only dropped right at the plate. By the time I realized, it was too late to adjust.

Two pitches. That was all Chris and Tanba needed to drive him into a corner.

And they didn’t let up. With the count now in their favor, Chris called for yet another forkball.

This time, Tojo was ready.

“Whoosh!”

As the ball left Tanba’s hand, Tojo held back just slightly—saving a fraction of his strength.

At the last possible moment—

“Swish!”

He made a micro-adjustment, catching the ball’s dipping trajectory.

“Ping!!!”

Bat met ball just as it began to fall.

The sharp report echoed, but Tojo’s forced adjustment had robbed the swing of power.

Even though he’d connected, he couldn’t suppress Tanba’s heavy pitch.

Because he had been forced to change his swing path mid-motion, Tojo’s batting form was practically broken apart. Unlike seniors like Isashiki or Yuiki, who could still muscle through with sheer power even in a collapsed stance, Tojo didn’t yet have that ability. He couldn’t deliver a clean, standard swing to drive the ball.

“Whoosh!”

A slight misalignment in angle meant the ball never even had a chance to lift into the air.

“Thud!”

The ball shot out weakly, bouncing hard right in front of the plate.

Skittering toward third base, the ball passed the mound—only for Tanba to casually twist his body and scoop it into his glove with his left hand. Without breaking stride, he fired to first.

“Zip!”

“Pop!”

“Out!!”

Tojo, who had barely started his sprint, was left standing with a grimace as the first baseman cleanly completed the play.

A routine groundout. Tanba and Chris showed no mercy in shutting down the leadoff threat of the inning.

“Batting ninth, pitcher—Furuya-kun.”

After dispatching Tojo, they now faced not just a pitcher, but a slugger in his own right—Furuya Satoru.

But Chris knew exactly how to get inside Furuya’s head.

From the very first pitch, he dictated the pace, keeping the rookie’s raw power bottled up with careful sequencing.

“Whoosh!”

“Clang!”

“Thud!”

“Foul ball!”

Eager to redeem himself after surrendering runs on the mound, Furuya chased everything, even balls out of the zone. Chris’s trap was working perfectly.

And then—

“Whoosh!”

“Pop!”

An outside fastball, low and away. Furuya swung and missed, utterly overpowered.

“Strike three! Batter out!”

Chris rose slightly as he caught the pitch, his eyes gentle as he spoke to the frustrated first-year.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a goal. Wanting to catch up, to fight, to grow—that’s praiseworthy. But remember this: whenever you step forward, always check your footing first. That way, every step you take will be firm and unshakable.”

Furuya froze at the words, then gave a small, respectful bow.

“Yes… Chris-senpai. Thank you.”

His sincere reply drew surprised looks from the crowd and even his own teammates.

But on the mound, the message was clear: Tanba and Chris were in total control. Two straight outs—Tojo and Furuya, erased without mercy.

The seniors’ battery dominated the flow of the game.

Tanba’s sharp, commanding pitches raised the third-years’ momentum even higher.

“Great pitch, Tanba!”

“That’s the way—don’t let these kids score a single run!”

“Shut them down, Koichiro!”

“Crush ‘em, Light One!”

“You’re our ace!”

Their roars echoed, led by Isashiki’s booming voice from center field, each shout carrying both venom and pride.

The spectators chuckled knowingly at the brazen provocation, while the younger players in the dugout grimaced.

Isashiki-senpai really doesn’t hold back at all.

But at the same time, those taunts only stoked the fire in Kuramochi, Miyuki, Eijun, and the others.

They swore silently—

We’ll show these seniors what we’re made of!

“Leading off for the inning, shortstop—Kuramochi-kun!”