Chapter 84: The Mastermind
"Nice hit, you bastard!" As Sendo stepped off home plate, Sawamura dashed over from the on-deck circle and gave him a bear hug.
"Ah!"
"Show a little excitement, will you? That was Homerun! And you hit an incredible pitch!"
"I'm happy!"
"Where? You look the same as always!"
"That was a great pitch—its quality and movement were top-notch. Honestly, hitting it was mostly luck. I even thought it was going foul, but it connected!
Since I hit it, it's only natural it went that far. After all, it was a pitch focused on movement, not power or speed."
"You arrogant jerk!"
"What's arrogant about it, Eijun? I'm just telling the truth," Sendo said with a slight smile as he walked back to the dugout.
"Is that so? Then I must have misunderstood!"
"Exactly! You definitely misunderstood!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said!" Sendo held up seven fingers with his left hand, pointing at Sawamura.
"You brat!"
"Alright, it's your turn. Do your best!"
"Haha! Leave it to me!" Sawamura said as he walked towards the batter's box, adopting a comical crab-like sideways step.
"Swing three times and come back quickly to get ready for defense, you idiot," Sendo muttered under his breath as he returned to the bench.
"Sen-chan! Nice hit!"
"That was amazing!"
"Do you want some water?"
"No need. Let's get ready for defense."
"But Ei-chan..." Their teammates trailed off mid-sentence.
Sure enough:
"Heave-ho!"
"Heave-ho!"
"Heave-hoooo!!!"
"Strike! Batter out!"
"Damn it!!! Just a little more! Missed it by that much! Oh well, time to reset," Sawamura said, walking off the field like nothing had happened.
"As expected, he acts the same as anyone else who strikes out," Wakana remarked with an exasperated sigh.
"Alright, let's refocus! Time to play defense—three innings left!"
"..."
Ignoring Sawamura's antics, the team quietly returned to the field. As Sendo passed Sawamura, he handed him his glove.
"Damn it! I won't let you guys get a hit!" Sawamura muttered, clearly not as clueless as he let on.
But reality often has its own plans.
"Bang!"
"Here it comes! A hit from their cleanup batter! A double!"
The opposing cleanup hitter smashed the ball through the infield, landing safely on second base thanks to a favorable placement.
"Don't mind it, Eijun! That was just a fluke!" Sendo shouted from the field.
"Don't mind it!!!" Sawamura echoed, loudly encouraging his teammates while trying to save face.
"A fluke?" Ozawa, overhearing the exchange, grew even more frustrated.
And so, the game continued.
"Ping!"
"Grounder to the infield!"
"Not enough time! First base!" Sendo commanded.
"Smack!"
"Out!"
"Safe!"
The sixth batter stepped up to the plate.
"A bunt? Looks like they're getting serious about scoring now."
"Well, it's the second round of the lineup, and their cleanup hitter already drove in two runs against Sakura Girls's pitcher. Of course, they'll want to fight back," the spectators started discussing from the sidelines.
"There's no other choice now, is there? Nothing to hesitate about!" Sendo signaled the play with a subtle motion, spreading his hands to indicate confidence in the pitcher.
"Right down the middle? Alright, here you go!"
"The bunt popped up!" The pitcher rushed forward.
"Eijun, throw it to me!" Sendo shouted urgently.
Sawamura quickly fielded the ball and passed it to Sendo, who had run several meters forward. Sendo checked the runners and turned to throw toward first base.
The opposing third base coach, seeing Sendo's relaxed movements, immediately instructed the runners to head back to home plate.
"Sen-chan! Home plate!" a teammate yelled from the field.
But Sendo was already prepared. With two quick strides, he leaped toward home, touching the plate just before the runner could.
"Out!"
The runner headed for home was called out, leaving everyone on the field stunned.
It wasn't until Sendo revealed the ball in his hand that the players and spectators realized what had happened—a fake-out!
The throwing motion had been real, but the ball had never left Sendo's hand. Thanks to his large hands and convincing movements, no one noticed it was a decoy.
Although the sixth batter reached first base, the most dangerous third-base runner had been eliminated, leaving two outs with no chance for any tricks.
"Sendo! I love you, you jerk!" Sawamura shouted from the dugout, unable to contain his excitement.
"Whoa!" gasps echoed from the crowd. No one had expected such a move in a high school baseball game.
"What's so surprising? I've always said baseball is a game of brains," Sendo thought to himself, listening to the cheers and murmurs. "I've got all of you, even the experts, dancing in the palm of my hand. This is strategy—misdirection and deception!"
"A fake-out, huh? Clever and decisive," Coach Mitani muttered in awe. "Using one base to trap our runner on third. You rarely see this kind of tactic in high school baseball. Most of these kids are straightforward, direct players."
He sighed, "Sendo isn't just a player; he's a real schemer."
"For the first time, I'm seeing someone use a fake-out like that in an actual game," one of the spectators commented.
"Not only does it require excellent field awareness, but also the ability to stay calm and a natural sense of timing. It's enough to prove he's an outstanding leader, even if his technical skills aren't perfect."
The momentum Sakura Girls had gained earlier was completely crushed.
"Whoosh!"
"Smack!"
"Out! Change sides!"
With just one pitch, the inning ended. The seventh batter, clearly distracted, swung out before realizing it.
"You jerk, Sendo! You tricked all of us! But that was amazing!"
"See? Thinking ahead pays off, doesn't it?"
"Baseball can be played like this?!"
"Of course! It's practically a war game with all sorts of tactics and strategies. If you're not careful, you'll get taken down!"
"Taken down? That's a bit dramatic!"
"Alright, just three and a half innings left! If we can hold them off, it's just three. Let's stay sharp! Their ace pitcher must be nearing his limit by now."
"How many pitches has Ozawa thrown?" Coach Mitani on the opposing side had also begun to notice the pitcher's potential fatigue.
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