"We are still leading. As long as we hold the lead, we'll win this game."
Seeing Sawamura's dominant performance on the mound, even the Texas team's Coach had changed his previous strategy.
First, ensure the victory in this game, then talk about the rest.
As the Ace, Lincoln, of course, was not willing to accept this.
Just as he was about to say something, the Texas team's Coach slapped his large hand on Lincoln's shoulder.
"Mr. Abel is still watching from the stands!"
With just this sentence, the Coach of the Texas team didn't say another word.
He trusted his player to be smart enough to understand his meaning with just that.
Lincoln understood, of course.
Although he felt a deep sense of unwillingness, he also understood.
Abel had come from afar to scout him, and the purpose was to evaluate his abilities as a pitcher.
Even though Lincoln's hitting ability was quite good, in a Major League team, his chances of being scouted as a batter were low.
For the Texas team, the most important task now was to ensure victory in this game. As for Lincoln, the most important thing was to prove his abilities as a pitcher.
As for competing with the opponent's pitcher, that was not their current priority or goal.
Although Lincoln was very displeased inside, he had to give in to reality.
Of course, it was unrealistic to expect him to stay calm at this moment.
"STRIKE!"
"STRIKE!!"
"STRIKE! BATTER OUT!!!"
"OUT!!"
"STRIKE! BATTER OUT!!!!!"
So, in the top of the 6th inning, the three Seidou High School batters went down in order again.
After six full innings, none of the Seidou High School players had managed to hit a single hit off Lincoln, let alone score.
This terrifying pitcher, later known as the Gentle Reaper, had not yet reached his peak.
But he was already showing his sharp fangs.
"Lincoln was this good even in high school!"
At this point, Sawamura's eyes flashed with extreme excitement.
Although Lincoln's state was still uncoordinated, his unique traits were starting to gradually emerge.
And of course, Sawamura was not one to back down.
When the 6th batter of the Texas team stepped into the Batter's Box in the bottom of the 6th inning,
Sawamura began to show his own unique style.
Whrroosh!
The baseball flew like a laser.
The Texas batter had already anticipated this, and without waiting, he swung his bat at the incoming ball.
From his previous observations, the American players had already concluded that Sawamura was mainly throwing fastballs.
Moreover, his pitch locations were extremely tricky, making it difficult to hit.
Even though the Texas Coach had suggested earlier to conserve energy and focus on defense for the rest of the game,
this did not mean that the Texas team would stop attacking.
At least, when the batters were up, they were still very serious.
As long as there was an opportunity to score, the Texas team would not give up.
With that in mind, the batter couldn't simply ignore Sawamura's pitches.
But when they set their strategy earlier, they had made it too rigid.
Since Sawamura either threw inside or outside, they decided to focus on one of them and hit accordingly.
They believed that if they could just make contact, they would have a chance for a hit.
No need to say more, these Texas players were powerful hitters.
If the ball made contact with their bat, it was likely to fly out of the park.
As the bat swung through, it seemed certain that the batter would make contact with the ball.
At that moment, the smile on the batter's face bloomed.
'Nice!'
It wasn't that he wasn't composed, it was just that he couldn't help himself.
His luck was too good!
A pitch that even Lincoln couldn't handle had been so easily smashed by him.
'And there was a chance to hit it out…'
How could the batter not be excited?
With excitement building in him, he naturally put everything he had into the swing, exhausting every ounce of strength from his body.
With the determination to hit the ball no matter what, he saw the bat coming down to meet the ball.
But then, the baseball suddenly dropped.
And not just any drop, but a very fast one, veering out of the zone.
'Eh? Forkball? Curveball?!'
The batter couldn't even clearly explain what had just happened.
But one thing he knew for sure was that this time, he was probably in trouble.
Snap!
"STRIKE!"
Seeing the batter in the Batter's Box looking completely bewildered, a smile involuntarily crept onto the corner of Sawamura's mouth.
When it came to showing off on the mound, he could never have been worse than Lincoln's.
'Next, let's let these guys experience what true despair really feels like.'
Sawamura was ecstatic on the mound, but behind the plate, Miyuki was feeling a terrible headache.
'So childish!'
When Sawamura expressed his plan with a signal just now, Miyuki was mentally rejecting it.
He felt that what Sawamura was doing was extremely childish, and totally unnecessary.
But Sawamura was firm in his attitude, and the reasons he gave made it hard to refuse.
"There are only four innings left in the game, and we only have three opportunities to attack. To be honest, there's not much time left for Seidou!"
If they didn't pull out some Ace pressure now, to strike fear into the American Texas team's players,
Could they possibly turn the game around?
The answer was probably no.
Miyuki knew this in his heart.
And because he knew it, he reluctantly agreed to Sawamura's approach.
"After the game ends, if we get scolded by the Coach, it's not my problem."
In the end, Miyuki had no choice but to go along with Sawamura's antics.
On the other side, with the American team,
From their Coach to the players, everyone had a serious expression.
Even though earlier, they had mentally prepared themselves.
They had told themselves not to worry about Sawamura on the mound, not to care too much about the results of their at-bats.
If they could hit a base hit and score, that would be great. If not, just holding onto their current lead would also be acceptable.
But when they actually saw Sawamura on the mound showing off, the players and Coach of the American Texas team couldn't help but feel shocked and affected.
The mentality was hard to describe, but it was very real.
"That pitcher can throw a breaking ball!"
American fans in the stands were astonished.
Before, because Sawamura's fastballs were so sharp, they all thought he was one of those pitchers who relied solely on fastballs.
Now it seemed like they were wrong.
He could throw breaking balls, and from the looks of it, his breaking balls were pretty sharp too.
If the American fans' thoughts were known by Sawamura's fans, they would probably laugh.
'You are this surprised with one breaking ball?'
WHRROOSH!
In the stunned eyes of the crowd, Sawamura threw his second pitch.
'Here it comes!'
At this point, the batter in the box could no longer maintain the calmness he had before.
Sawamura suddenly changed his pitching rhythm, leaving the batter clueless about which pitch to prepare for.
At this point, there was no time to consult with the Coach.
Reluctantly, the batter could only face the pitch head-on.
Fastball!
No matter what pitch Sawamura threw, the batter was just preparing to hit the fastball.
This time, the bat missed the ball by a greater distance. He didn't even get close to touching it.
On the mound, Sawamura, with a smile on his face, muttered,
"Cut ball Kai!"
This was completely different from the sinking breaking ball earlier; this one was a horizontal movement.
The result was the same; the batter still couldn't touch the ball.
The Texas players, who had been serious, now widened their eyes in disbelief.
They had just witnessed something amazing.
Not only could the opponent throw a breaking ball, but he had thrown one completely different from the one before.
They couldn't understand how Sawamura was doing this.
Before their astonishment could subside, Sawamura threw his third pitch.
His pace remained as fast as ever, and his coordination with Miyuki was flawless.
Before the Texas batter could even regain his bearings, the baseball was already flying toward him.
After much anticipation, this time it was a real, genuine fastball.
But the batter wasn't even sure anymore.
'Is it really a fastball?'
He asked himself in his mind, and in the process, he missed his opportunity to swing.
By the time he reacted and swung his bat, it was too late!
SNAP!
"STRIKE! BATTER OUT!!!"
This scene was incredibly overwhelming.
The American players all had gloomy faces and didn't say a word.
At this point, the American players still thought Sawamura's third pitch was just a regular fastball.
But in reality, it wasn't exactly a fastball.
It was one of Sawamura's deadly weapons.
The Demon King's Sword!
The Straight-Fastball!
Up until now, all the strikeouts that Sawamura had made were with Breaking balls.
But the Texas players and Coach had no idea about this!
When they finally saw Sawamura throw a fastball, they all finally calmed down.
So, he didn't only throw breaking balls. Eventually, a fastball would come.
"To make the breaking balls effective, it must be mixed with the fastball. That means, no matter how many types of breaking balls the pitcher on the mound can throw, there will always be a fastball. Let's forget about everything else and just focus on hitting the fastball! Even if it's just a lucky hit, we'll eventually make contact with one or two."
With the lack of confidence in their offense, the Texas team decided to go all-in and fight Sawamura head-to-head.
If they won, that would be great.
Even if they didn't manage to get a single hit, that wasn't a result they couldn't accept.
The American Coach thought he had a good plan, but what he didn't know was,
Because of his orders, the players inevitably had higher expectations and were exerting more energy.
Once people put in effort, they naturally expect a return.
But when no return came after all that effort,
It would be impossible for the players to remain calm and focused on the game.
Unfortunately, the Coach of the American Texas team didn't study psychology, so he didn't realize this.
The next batter, the seventh hitter, accepted the orders from his Coach and prepared to focus on Sawamura's fastball.
On the mound, Sawamura's face returned to its cold expression.
At this moment, he no longer looked like a passionate pitcher; instead, he seemed like a cold demon.
Whoosh!
…