[381] The Power of Ugumori’s Mighty Arm

Chapter 381: The Power of Ugumori's Mighty Arm

A simple-hearted child.

More often than not, they are the kind of people whose convictions run deepest.

Furuya was undoubtedly one of them.

With a steadfast goal, the willingness to take real action, and an unwavering resolve that feared nothing, Furuya forged ahead. Even as he pursued his dreams step by step—sometimes taking wrong turns, sometimes veering off course—the one constant was his unshakable determination.

That silhouette.

That jersey number.

That presence.

That status.

That peak, that breathtaking view.

Furuya wasn't just drawn to it—he had to reach it. He had to grasp it with his own hands.

Whoosh.

A resolute expression, an air of icy composure.

Raw, unrestrained power erupted, pouring forth with nothing held back.

Ping.

It was heavy. It hurt. It was crushing.

When the bat collided with the ball, the batter—Ugumori High's second hitter—paled. The vibrating sting in his hands, as if his grip were torn apart, made it almost impossible for him to keep silent.

Whoosh.

Pop.

"Out!"

Completely overpowered, his hit was crushed. Over at third base, Shoji casually caught the towering fly ball, securing the second out.

"Nice pitch, Furuya!"

"Two outs! Two outs! Two outs!"

"Keep the pressure on, Furuya!"

"Show them what pitching with pure power looks like!"

When sheer force reaches a certain level, it transforms. Furuya was the perfect example of that transformation. Though his blazing fastball hadn't yet reached its ultimate peak, a summer of intense training and a month under the guidance of Ochiai had honed it to a level few could withstand.

"Batting third, shortstop, Miyamoto."

Unless you perfectly timed the sweet spot on the bat, wielded comparable strength, or at least possessed extraordinary ability to absorb the force, there was only one outcome against Furuya's fastball.

Whoosh.

Thunk!

"Strike three! Batter out!"

That outcome was an out. Simple, direct, and overwhelming, a pitcher who fully wielded his power.

In the top of the first inning, without even using a single breaking pitch, Furuya managed a flawless three-up, three-down. Ugumori's initial plan to attack aggressively in the first frame crumbled under the weight of Furuya's power.

"Three outs! Change sides!"

As the teams switched places, the players from Ugumori High couldn't shake a lingering sense of shock. Was this the might of Seidou's renowned powerhouse? Could a first-year substitute pitcher really be this dominant?

Everyone from Ugumori High—players and spectators alike—shared a single thought. As they gazed at Furuya's figure on the mound, a complex mix of emotions flickered in their eyes.

"I told you not to go full throttle! Don't go full throttle! Just throw at seventy percent! You need to pace yourself, kid!"

"..."

The simple-hearted boy turned his head away, silently expressing his determination.

"Hey, don't ignore me!"

This guy... didn't he seem a lot cuter at first?

In the dugout.

Eijun, who had just jogged back, caught sight of the bickering between Miyuki and Furuya. A knowing smile crept onto his face.

Ah, it's clear that his arrival had already changed so much.

There wasn't much to worry about with Ugumori now.

That three-run homer from the first inning had completely vanished from the picture. From Furuya's current condition, it looked like everything was fine.

The main thing was to make sure he didn't overexert himself.

And with Miyuki around, there was no need for concern. So, the priority was simple:

They needed to crush their opponents as quickly as possible, especially Ugumori's ace, Seiichi Umemiya.

Eijun narrowed his eyes slightly, glancing toward the Ugumori dugout. That was the target.

"A slow curveball at around 90 km/h paired with a strong fastball—this pitcher's control of speed differentials is challenging to deal with. Especially after a fastball, the slow curve requires extra attention. For the first rotation through the lineup, feel free to let go of anything low and off-speed. Don't swing at tricky pitches. We have the initiative, so there's no need to rush."

Coach Kataoka's sharp gaze swept over the starting nine, his voice firm and authoritative.

"Yes!"

Eijun and the others responded in unison, their voices full of spirit.

"Bottom of the first inning, Seidou High's turn to bat. First up, shortstop Kuramochi."

"The speedster, Seidou's leadoff hitter. His greatest threat is his quick feet."

The moment Kuramochi stepped onto the field, the Ugumori infielders all recalled the scouting reports, and their defensive positions subtly shifted forward.

When Kuramochi moved to the right-hand batter's box, Ochiai raised an eyebrow slightly from the bench and shook his head.

On the mound, Seiichi's fierce gaze locked onto Kuramochi in an instant.

"!"

At the umpire's command, Seiichi and his catcher exchanged a quick glance.

Whoosh.

He lifted his left leg high.

In the next moment, his stride forward.

A streak of light shot forth.

The shimmering white ball seemed almost otherworldly, drifting slowly and deliberately.

As it neared the plate, Kuramochi frowned and instinctively stepped out.

Whoosh.

The bat swept through the air.

The ball had only just arrived.

Pop.

"Strike!"

It was even slower than expected.

Kuramochi, with a slightly annoyed expression, glanced at Seiichi. After facing so many elite aces with blazing fastballs, this pitch—just a hair over 100 km/h—felt oddly unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, Kuramochi adjusted his stance slightly, choking up on the bat. Against this speed, there was no need for a powerful swing or a fast one.

The key was timing.

Moreover, at this velocity, the pitch likely wouldn't pack much power. The only unknown was how much it might tail off at the end.

Whoosh.

Whoosh.

Ping!

This time, Kuramochi found the perfect timing for his swing.

The bat and the ball connected flawlessly.

But the sensation in his hands made Kuramochi's expression shift slightly.

Whoosh.

Thud.

The ball, just slightly off-center, wasn't struck perfectly.

Even against a slower fastball, Kuramochi didn't quite land it cleanly.

The ball slammed into the ground, bouncing sharply toward third base.

Ugumori's third baseman and shortstop immediately scrambled to field it.

But if the hit wasn't enough, there was always base-running.

Ugumori's defense, after all, wasn't on the same level as powerhouse teams like Inashiro Industrial or Teito High.

They lacked the same speed and decisiveness.

Meanwhile, Kuramochi's speed surpassed that of nearly every active high school player.

Patter, patter, patter.

In the blink of an eye, as Ugumori's third baseman finally scooped up the ball and hurled it toward first, Kuramochi was already closing in on the bag.

Pop.

The ball landed squarely in the first baseman's glove.

But Kuramochi's foot had already touched the base.

"Safe!"