Chapter 561: A Sharp Clash
Boom!
Furuya's stride thundered forward, his momentum surging like a wave.
Whizz!
His arm whipped through, a flash of cold light streaking toward home plate.
The sharp gleam rushed straight in, and in the batter's box, Isashiki's face twisted into a feral grin.
He stomped forward with force.
Swish!
His metal bat swung with all its might.
Clang!!!
Powerful. Precise.
A greeting from your senpai, you brat Furuya!!!
"Fly out of here!!!"
Isashiki roared from the depths of his chest, swinging with everything on the very first pitch.
The sharp crack echoed—the ball shot skyward.
Whizz!
Bang!!
It crashed down near first base.
Maezono lunged in a desperate dive.
Whoosh!
But the speed of the hit outpaced him completely.
Before his glove could reach it, the ball screamed past, landing just foul.
"Foul ball!!!"
Even so, the swing seared itself into everyone's memory.
At first, Maezono gasped.
So this is the true swing of the former third batter… Isashiki-senpai's power?
He swallowed hard.
Now you see it, don't you, Furuya? This is our lineup—
the lineup that once ruled the nation.
Any pitch even slightly hittable, and Isashiki will crush it without mercy.
Behind the plate, Miyuki's eyes gleamed coldly.
His fingers flicked once more.
Second pitch—vertical slider. Keep it low. Make it fast.
"Mm!"
On the mound, Furuya nodded grimly.
Boom!
He drove off the rubber, arm cracking forward with ferocity.
Whizz!
The ball hissed toward the plate.
"Bring it on!!!"
Isashiki's roar filled the stadium as the ball streaked through the sky.
He stepped hard, bat lashing out—
—but just before it reached the bat, the ball veered,
sliding viciously toward the low outside corner.
Smack!
"Strike!!!"
The ball thudded into Miyuki's mitt, and Kataoka's deep voice called out from behind.
"Oh? So this kid's learned a vertical slider since the autumn tournament? Looks real enough. Paired with his fastball, the power isn't bad at all."
Isashiki spun his bat in excitement, his expression growing even more savage.
"COME ON, YOU DAMN BRAT!!!"
His trademark roar rattled the stands, the sound of a beast baring its fangs.
....
Next pitch—outside fastball.
Miyuki's fingers twitched again.
Whizz!
Furuya's arm fired like a whip.
Boom!
No matter the pitch, no matter the location, no matter the count or situation—
Isashiki Jun's swing was always full-power, head-on.
Swish!
Clang!
Pure power rang out, but hidden inside it was his trademark fine control.
Behind the ferocity, Isashiki always carried a batter's delicate touch.
Whizz!
Bang!
Another rocket toward first base, angled deliberately to the right.
"Foul!!!"
That was Isashiki's skill: any pitch, driven opposite-field, by sheer bat control.
This next one will end it.
Miyuki's eyes glinted, his sign flashing again.
Whizz!
The ball shot from Furuya's hand.
Swish!
And then—just before the plate—the pitch plunged.
A forkball?!
Isashiki realized a fraction too late.
His swing form was already locked in.
Forcing his body to adjust, he wrenched the bat forward faster.
Clang!!!
Even off-center, even with his stance collapsing, he still managed to catch it.
Whizz!
But the imperfect contact, the broken mechanics—robbed the hit of its full strength.
The ball soared skyward, lifting lazily toward left field.
A drifting fly ball.
Eijun moved with precise judgment, arriving directly under the falling ball.
He barely needed any effort—standing tall, glove extended—
Smack!
The ball landed securely in his mitt, while at home plate, Isashiki's face twisted in frustration.
"Out!!!"
"Ohhh, nice pitch, Furuya!"
"Two outs, two outs!"
"Haha, to take down Isashiki-senpai head-on—impressive!"
"Beautiful throw, Furuya."
"Excellent pitching, Furuya-kun."
Indeed, it was skillful.
From that earlier fast forkball to this vertical slider,
his rate of growth was astonishing.
Isashiki gave one last glance at the mound, his expression turning from grudging respect—
to a mocking grin.
But if that's all you've got, Furuya… what comes next is true hell.
....
"Fourth batter, first baseman—Yuuki-kun."
Like a mountain, Yuuki Tetsuya strode slowly from the on-deck circle.
With each step, a heavy aura spread across the field.
It wasn't sharp, but unbearably weighty.
On the mound, Furuya felt as though his chest had been struck hard.
That broad, imposing figure filled his vision.
The pressure pressed in from every direction, sweat beading instantly across his forehead.
....
At home plate, Miyuki caught the presence beside him—that commanding aura.
Even he couldn't keep his face from stiffening, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Seriously? Even Tetsuya-san's this serious?"
From the corner of his eye, Miyuki saw the calm, steady expression on the former captain's face.
He understood immediately: just as the seniors had promised, this farewell match was being treated no differently than an official game.
And with Yuuki's aura alone, the message was clear.
....
"Watch for low line drives on the infield. Outfield, shift slightly left and deeper. Even if your read isn't perfect,
your bodies must move immediately the moment the ball flies. Otherwise, there's no way to keep up with the speed of Yuuki's bat. Move first—at least then you have a chance."
Behind the plate, Miyuki's voice rang sharp with command. His expression was grave as he directed his fielders.
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