"Damn it, this is too cool!!"
Narumiya Mei bit onto his collar, his pupils practically turning vertical like an angry cat.
How could these Seidou guys be so annoyingly good at theatrics?
A team slogan…
A coordinated cheer…
And that chestnut–haired monster Kanzaki Ryou stepping on the mound with a whole stadium helping him act cool?!
It was infuriating.
Harada Masatoshi watched the fuming blond beside him and sighed. Ever since Narumiya joined Inashiro, he had been the unfortunate soul assigned to manage him. At this point, he could read Mei's personality inside and out.
Seeing Kanzaki Ryou act so dramatically on the mound, Harada could already predict Mei's reaction: he's definitely jealous.
He even considered asking the Inashiro cheer squad to coordinate a "cool entrance" for Mei someday.
"Pay attention!"
Coach Kunitomo's sharp voice snapped through the dugout.
The game had already resumed. Inashiro's third batter stepped into the box.
Hada Kazuki — the third-year captain, a power hitter with a body built like steel.
Facing Inashiro's core lineup right from the start, even some spectators felt nervous for Kanzaki Ryou.
Yes, he was a monster first-year with elite speed and control… but if he only had his Straight ball, even Seidou fans feared strong hitters would eventually catch up.
Still, anticipation buzzed through the stands.
On the mound, Kanzaki Ryou lifted his chin slightly. His eyes locked with Hada Kazuki's—
two competitors instantly recognizing the fire in each other.
Hada wanted to crush this arrogant rookie.
Kanzaki Ryou wanted to strike out Inashiro's captain.
Miyuki's glove settled outside and low.
After watching Hada for six innings from the dugout, Miyuki already understood him well:
If the first pitch wasn't obviously out of the zone, Hada always swung.
Kanzaki Ryou inhaled deeply, raised his leg high—and fired.
BANG!
"Strike!"
Hada Kazuki's eyes widened.
By the time the ball hit the glove, he still hadn't reacted.
Too fast.
He had lifted his leg, ready to swing—
but before he even finished his weight shift, the 151 km/h fastball was already gone.
He turned toward the speed gun.
151 flashed brightly.
He really is a monster…
If Kanzaki Ryou continued growing like this, he would definitely surpass 155 km/h.
And if his control stayed this sharp…
How would Inashiro ever hit him?
Hada suppressed a bitter laugh.
"Not that it'll be my problem—by then, I'll have graduated," he muttered.
But before he could dwell on it—
Kanzaki Ryou was already winding up for pitch number two.
Another Four-seamer.
This time: inside high.
WHOOSH!
Hada Kazuki swung early—
"Strike!"
He missed again.
Miyuki flicked his eyes toward the batter.
That swing was fast, aggressive, and perfectly timed for what he thought the pitch was.
But Kanzaki Ryou's vertical attack pattern combined with his velocity made it impossible to match pace.
Two pitches, two different quadrants.
Enough to scramble even a veteran batter's internal timing.
The third pitch came quickly.
A center-cut fastball.
Hada Kazuki saw it…
and froze for a fraction of a second—
just long enough for the 150+ km/h ball to blow past him.
Before his bat was even halfway out, the pitch detonated in Miyuki's glove.
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
Hada Kazuki exhaled deeply, lowering his bat.
He gave Miyuki a long, knowing stare.
Calling a center-cut Straight ball at that moment wasn't just bold—
it was psychological warfare.
So this guy also plays mind games… No wonder that brat Mei keeps mentioning him.
As Kanzaki Ryou caught the return throw, he shot a glance toward the Inashiro dugout.
Directly at Narumiya Mei.
Narumiya's face twisted.
"Damn it…!
Bastard… that's eight already!!"
Seeing Mei stomp around like a furious crab, Kanzaki Ryou smirked.
Another batter stepped into the box—Inashiro's fourth batter, Shinkawa Kenichi.
A third-year. Cleanup hitter.
The guy who had blasted Nanjo multiple times earlier in the game.
He's dangerous.
Miyuki narrowed his eyes before flashing the sign.
Kanzaki Ryou nodded.
No testing pitches.
No warming up.
First pitch: inside high Straight ball.
A direct confrontation.
WHOOOOSH!
The pitch screamed past Shinkawa's bat.
"Strike!"
He didn't swing.
He just stood there—calm, unshaken, unreadable.
Miyuki felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
This type of batter—
the kind who reveals nothing,
shows nothing,
gives nothing—
was the hardest to deal with.
But the harder the challenge…
…the more Miyuki's competitive fire burned.
Again! he signaled.
Kanzaki Ryou nodded.
His expression sharpened.
The next pitch was coming.
And the showdown against Inashiro's cleanup batter had just begun.
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