Afternoon, Seidou training ground.
After completing basic drills with the other first-years, Kanzaki Ryou and Miyuki Kazuya were about to join the first-string defensive practice when Coach Kataoka called them over.
"Coach!" the two stood at attention, hands clasped behind their backs.
"Mm." Kataoka nodded slightly. "In the simulated game later, Miyuki — you'll pair up with Kanzaki."
"Head to the bullpen and adjust your condition."
Miyuki blinked for a second, then straightened up. "Yes, sir!"
The meaning behind that order was clear. In today's scrimmage, he and Kanzaki would be the battery facing the first-string seniors.
That also meant that in tomorrow's semifinal, Coach Kataoka was highly likely to send them out together on the field.
Miyuki nudged Kanzaki's shoulder, and both exchanged a knowing look — eyes burning with fighting spirit.
Their shared determination wasn't just aimed at the upperclassmen — it was toward tomorrow's game as well.
Watching the two whisper to each other as they walked toward the bullpen, Coach Kataoka followed them after assigning the rest of the first-string's training.
Miyuki's intuition was correct. Kataoka truly intended to have the two play as a pair.
Ever since Chris-senpai's injury, the catcher position had been left vulnerable.
For the sake of Seidou's future, Miyuki Kazuya, the genius catcher, had been entrusted with that responsibility.
During the Spring Metropolitan Tournament and the upcoming Kanto Tournament, the two of them not only had to refine their individual skills but also deepen their coordination.
By the time summer came, this pitcher-catcher duo would be the core that carried Seidou to glory.
Bullpen
Miyuki had just finished putting on his gear when he noticed Kanzaki standing still on the mound, his head slightly bowed.
"What are you thinking about?" Miyuki asked, his tone curious.
Kanzaki pouted slightly before replying, "Kazuya, I want to test my control."
"Control?" Miyuki frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Nine-panel grid. Like dividing the strike zone into nine sections," Kanzaki explained.
His control was already exceptional for a first-year. Whether Miyuki asked for an inside or outside corner, Kanzaki could usually hit the spot. But if a batter adapted to his speed or anticipated his pitch, even the best heater could get hit hard — especially by power hitters like Azuma Kiyokuni.
To deal with that, he needed to be sharper — able to consistently place pitches on the edges and corners of the zone, even in the gray area between a strike and a ball.
He thought of one pitcher who could do that — Yang Shunchen from Akikawa High, nicknamed the Precision Machine.
Of course, right now, that guy was probably still just getting started.
Miyuki frowned, watching Kanzaki's serious expression. "You want to do that now? What if it messes up your condition before the game?"
Kanzaki tilted his head slightly, his confident smirk returning. "Who do you think I am?"
There was a spark in his eyes — unshakable and commanding. For a moment, Miyuki actually felt pressure from that gaze.
The two stared at each other until Miyuki's lips curved into a grin.
"Fine, fine. Let's do it — my Ace."
Kanzaki nodded. "First pitch — position seven."
"Hey, hey, I'm the catcher here, you know?" Miyuki complained, crouching into position anyway.
"If you're gonna do this, then throw it in properly," he added with a grin.
Kanzaki smiled, lowering his stance. The spot Miyuki signaled was tricky — the seventh square of the nine-panel grid, but Miyuki had gone further, dividing it again into a smaller nine-panel grid. Kanzaki's target was the seventh square of that tiny section.
Closing his eyes, Kanzaki took a deep breath.
He visualized the glove's position in his mind, rehearsing the motion from start to finish.
I can do it.
He opened his eyes — his body moving exactly as imagined. His steps were fluid, his arm snapped sharply downward, and the white ball screamed toward Miyuki's glove like a laser.
Bang!
"Nice ball!" Miyuki called out, feeling the power vibrate through his mitt. His eyes gleamed with excitement.
Miyuki began calling for tougher spots — the very edges of the strike zone, where even a slight miss would be a ball.
After ten pitches, Kanzaki hit seven strikes and missed three.
But of those seven strikes, only four landed exactly where Miyuki wanted.
"Less than fifty percent success," Miyuki said thoughtfully. "But if you can hit that in a real game, even once in a crucial moment — that's enough to take down any batter."
He tossed the ball back to Kanzaki, grinning. "Honestly, I've never caught a first-year pitcher with control like yours."
Kanzaki caught the ball, still unsatisfied. "Hmm… but my velocity dropped."
To control the ball with such precision, he'd had to ease off his usual power.
Miyuki laughed. "Don't underestimate baseball too much. You should be proud you can even do this as a first-year."
Kanzaki twirled the ball in his fingers, smirking. "I'll get there eventually. Come on — let's try the two-seam fastball."
"Again?" Miyuki sighed. "It's hard enough to throw that pitch accurately."
"Just try it," Kanzaki said, voice playful but firm.
"Alright, alright." Miyuki crouched again, signaling for a low inside corner.
Bang!
The two-seam flew in.
"A little off," Miyuki said.
Bang!
"Two centimeters high. Ball."
"Hey, hey, two centimeters?" Kanzaki protested. "Are you sure your eyes are that sharp?"
"What I say goes. My eyes are the ruler," Miyuki said smugly, tossing the ball back.
It was true — even for an elite pitcher, precisely placing a two-seam fastball that tailed and sank at the last second was nearly impossible. Kanzaki's version combined both the two-seam's movement and a sinker's drop, making it even harder to control.
To refine that level of accuracy would take time, effort, and experience — not something achievable in a single afternoon.
Just then, a familiar voice cut through the bullpen.
"Kanzaki!"
Startled, Kanzaki flinched, and the ball slipped from his hand. He quickly turned around.
"Coach!"
At the bullpen entrance stood Coach Kataoka, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Are you feeling unwell?" Kataoka's tone was serious. He had seen a few of Kanzaki's pitches miss their targets — unusual for him. The day before the semifinals, the last thing Seidou needed was their ace catching a cold or losing form.
Hearing this, Kanzaki awkwardly scratched his head. He realized the coach didn't know they were practicing control accuracy, so it made sense that he'd misunderstood.
"Coach…" Miyuki stepped in, quickly explaining the situation.
After listening, Kataoka's expression softened slightly — though his gaze remained sharp as he turned to Kanzaki.
"Your body's still growing, and your velocity is increasing naturally. At this stage, forcing extreme precision will only distort your form. Don't lose your strengths chasing something unnecessary."
The words hit them both like thunder.
Kanzaki and Miyuki froze for a moment, then straightened instinctively.
"Yes, Coach!"
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