Chapter 265: The Demon King Descends!
"Don't worry. I won't let them touch my pitches…"
Hearing those words, everyone in Seidou's dugout felt like their first-year ace was glowing with confidence.
"You little show-off," grumbled Jun Isashiki, the scruffy upperclassman, as he reached over and ruffled Furuya's hair—
messing up the carefully styled look until it resembled a bird's nest.
Despite his grumbling, everyone could tell—
He was genuinely happy.
It had been years since Seidou last had such a reliable ace.
Back when Tanba was still the mound leader, these third-years had felt a mix of emotions toward Furuya.
On the one hand, they were grateful he had arrived.
On the other, part of them still wanted to stand by their fellow third-year pitcher.
But now—
That internal conflict was gone.
They had fully accepted Furuya as their ace.
And not out of obligation, not grudgingly—
Genuinely. From the heart.
Chris watched with a faint smile as Furuya stood at the center of attention, surrounded by seniors who once saw him as an outsider.
"It's only natural," Chris thought.
"People instinctively lean toward the teammates they've fought alongside the longest."
From that perspective, it was almost inevitable the third-years had been wary at first.
But in just a little over a month, their hearts had completely changed.
They no longer saw Furuya as a freshman who needed support—
they saw him as one of their own.
That kind of transformation was no small thing.
"A miraculous kid…"
And it wasn't just his performance on the field.
He had earned their trust—and their loyalty.
Winning over emotions is one of the hardest things in life.
But Furuya had done it—
like a born leader, he naturally became the one they all rallied behind.
"Get out there. End this quickly. And get ready for the next game."
Even the ever-cautious Coach Kataoka—who almost never said such things unless the win was in hand—
was so proud of his team's growth, he broke that rule.
To raise players like this—
There was no greater honor for a coach.
...
Top of the second inning.
In the stands, both teams' fans roared in unison, chanting until their voices went hoarse.
They might not fully grasp the momentum shift—
but they knew something was coming.
Both groups of die-hard supporters could feel it in their bones:
The game's turning point was approaching.
It might still be early—
but the next showdown could very well decide everything.
And with that thought—
Their blood boiled.
If they didn't cheer with everything they had now, they might never get another chance.
...
On the field, the batter stepping up was Ichizen's cleanup hitter—
also their starting catcher.
Massive build, powerfully built even more than Inashiro's Harada.
Thick eyebrows. Sharp eyes.
He didn't look like a high school student at all—
if anything, he looked older than scruffy Isashiki.
He wasn't just the cleanup hitter.
He was one of the emotional pillars of Ichizen High.
And as the catcher in their battery, he knew better than anyone else what had to be done.
Down by four, unless something unexpected happened—
Given the strength gap between them and Seidou,
there was no realistic chance of a comeback.
Put bluntly—
The outcome was already out of their hands.
So now—
All they could do was fight for their pride.
For their team's honor.
And for their own.
As one of the team's two emotional pillars, Ichizen's cleanup hitter had one thing on his mind:
How do I hit Furuya's pitch?
Under normal circumstances, that'd be a near-impossible task.
But right now—
He felt like he had a chance.
And it wasn't blind confidence.
Before he stepped into the batter's box, Ichizen's female manager had quietly pulled him aside.
"Coach?"
He knew full well the weight he carried on his shoulders.
So when she came near, ready to share a few words of advice, he didn't resist.
"Even the bravest warrior on the battlefield… has moments when he lets his guard down."
Her big, bright eyes sparkled with resolve—almost as if they were speaking directly to his soul.
He gave her a strong, silent nod.
And when he stepped into the box—
It was like he'd become someone else.
His presence, already intimidating, now felt two or three levels higher.
Behind the plate, Miyuki squinted thoughtfully at him.
Then cast a quick glance at Ichizen's dugout.
What kind of spell did she cast on him?
The guy was radiating raw fighting spirit now.
"He was already a tough opponent. But now, it feels like he's been triggered."
Miyuki had a mind to test him.
As a catcher, that was one of his specialties.
It was also his responsibility.
But when he turned to consult with his pitcher—
He was met with a face colder than ice.
Furuya's expression was as calm and sharp as a snowstorm atop Mount Everest.
He was locked in.
Not planning to rely on strategy or deception—
just his pure velocity, to blow the batter away.
"Whew…"
Miyuki let out a slow breath.
He knew exactly how dangerous that mindset could be.
So now the question was—
Should he support this raw, reckless confidence?
Or send a sign, have Furuya stick to his game plan?
His mind raced.
By instinct, he leaned toward the second option.
But when he thought about how Furuya had performed today—
and where the team's morale stood…
"Screw it. You're all a bunch of stubborn punks anyway…"
"Let's do it your way."
In the end, Miyuki chose to trust his pitcher.
And it wasn't some heat-of-the-moment impulse.
It was a decision made after carefully weighing the current state of both teams.
Ichizen High had already been pushed to the brink.
Barring any miracles, this was likely their final stand.
If Seidou could show them overwhelming, unbeatable strength here—
then Ichizen would finally lose hope.
And from that point on, Seidou could control the game in peace.
But if they relied on tricks or caution to get through this…
Even if they got the out, Ichizen wouldn't be convinced it was because they were outmatched.
They'd cling to that sliver of pride—
and come back to haunt Seidou later.
So Miyuki made the call.
"Go. Give it everything you've got!"
Thousands of eyes in the stadium locked onto the mound.
The boy standing atop it raised his leg high.
Then—slam!
As his weight shifted, his arm followed through like a spring snapping into place.
Every motion flowed seamlessly,.like a pitching tutorial straight from a textbook.
"BOOM!!"
The moment the ball left his hand, the air cracked like a whip.
Ichizen's players were stunned.
In the stands, Seidou's diehard fans were wild with excitement, their eyes bloodshot with adrenaline.
This—this—was the Furuya they were obsessed with.
This was why they backed their freshman ace so passionately.
Because his pitches weren't just fast—
They were savage. Dominant. Untouchable.
Gods and demons alike would kneel before that fastball.
And no one understood that better than Ichizen's cleanup hitter.
As one of the top batters in the country, he could feel it—deep in his bones.
To him, it all happened in a flash.
There was the sound—
then the white blur expanded in his vision—
Swing. Now!
His instincts screamed at him.
And he tried.
He tried to grip the bat, tried to swing toward the ball.
But it was just a thought.
His body never moved.
Before he could act—
The ball had already blown past him.
"THUD."
The sound of the ball slamming into the catcher's mitt was low and heavy,.deafening in its finality.
It wasn't loud, but everyone heard it—crystal clear.
The batter.
The umpire.
Everyone felt the sheer weight of that pitch.
And even though they'd seen it with their own eyes—
When they looked back at the boy on the mound, the same question echoed in both of their hearts:
Is that guy… really just a high school student?
Not just a freshman—after that pitch, it was hard to believe Furuya wasn't a pro-level star in disguise.
How else could he throw a fastball like that?!
"154 km/h!!!"
On paper, it wasn't even his fastest pitch so far.
But everyone watching knew—
Speed wasn't the only thing that mattered.
This pitch had weight.
Presence.
An impact that couldn't be measured in velocity alone.
It felt like it tore through the very air.
In the stands, Seidou's fans lost their minds.
"So cool!!"
"Let's go, finish them off in one go!"
But over in Ichizen's dugout, the atmosphere was the opposite—
completely drained of color, of blood, of hope.
Just minutes ago, they'd been clinging to dreams of a comeback.
Now?
They could see it as clearly as the scoreboard:
This match… was over.
The man on the mound wasn't someone you could beat with guts or strategy.
He wasn't just a strong player—
He was on another level entirely.
In the press box, veteran baseball journalist Fujio shook his head with certainty.
As a seasoned reporter, a lifelong baseball maniac, he knew better than anyone not to jump to conclusions in a youth game.
High school baseball was volatile—anything could happen in a flash.
But this time?
"Ichizen's done," he said with zero hesitation.
Beside him, the tall, skeptical beauty Akiko Owada furrowed her brows.
"But it's only the second inning…"
Even with a 4–0 lead, even with Seidou's dominance—
She felt it was too soon to make that kind of call.
But Fujio stood by his words.
"It's not the score that sealed it. It was that pitch.
That one pitch made Ichizen realize the truth—
They're not facing another high school player.
They're up against a monster."
He paused—then added with a grin:
"No. Not a monster… a Demon King."
The words gave him chills.
He could already see tomorrow's headline forming in his mind:
"The Demon King Descends on Koshien!"
It was bold. It was dramatic.
Too much for most players, maybe.
But for Furuya?
Fujio had no doubt—he could live up to the title.
"After my article on genius catcher Miyuki, looks like I've got another masterpiece coming."
And just as he predicted, things on the field were playing out perfectly.
Ichizen's cleanup hitter hadn't given up.
On the second pitch, he swung with everything he had—
But the bat barely reached halfway before the ball blazed past him.
"Strike!"
That's when he realized—
He couldn't wait to see the pitch.
By the time he reacted, it was already too late.
So he made up his mind:
I have to swing early. Predict it.
He did.
But the third pitch came in slower, and his bat was just a beat ahead.
"Strike three!"
"You're out!"
The crowd fell silent.
Ichizen's players. Their fans. Their coaches.
None of them had seen this coming.
They knew this game would be tough—
But not this tough.
Not to the point where their cleanup hitter—
Couldn't even time his swing.
And now?
For the first time all game—
They were starting to wonder if this match had any meaning left at all.
------------------
If you want to read 20 chapters advanced.
Visit my patreon: patreon.com/Shu_21