Hearing Kuramochi's complaint, Chris lifted his head and explained calmly,
"Since you already guessed it was a Forkball, you should've adjusted your swing path and tried to scoop the ball up. Sweeping horizontally like that makes it extremely hard to hit a pitch with such a big drop."
Kuramochi nodded after hearing the explanation.
"I get it. Thanks, Chris-senpai."
Next up, Kominato Ryosuke stepped into the batter's box.
The first-year students, who had just finished their own training, gathered along the sidelines to watch. In the crowd, Kominato Haruichi clenched his fists tightly, silently cheering for his brother.
Unexpectedly, Ryosuke chose to swing at a Forkball on the very first pitch. Unfortunately, his lack of power showed. Although he managed to scoop the ball up, it didn't travel very far.
The second pitch was a high, inside four-seam fastball. Ryosuke was jammed, but relying on his excellent bat control, he still managed to flick it foul down the first-base line.
The third pitch came outside—a two-seam fastball.
Ryosuke stretched his arms to barely reach it. However, Kanzaki Ryou's pitch carried too much weight, and Ryosuke's awkward posture prevented him from generating force. The ball popped up weakly, landing neither high nor far, dropping perfectly near the pitcher's mound.
"This would've been a force out," Chris commented.
Like Kuramochi, Kominato Ryosuke was a left-handed batter. Against Kanzaki Ryou's two-seam fastball, he found it even harder to deal with due to his physical limitations.
"Haha, yeah," Ryosuke said with a wry smile. "In a real game, Kanzaki definitely wouldn't miss that force out."
After him, Isashiki Jun stepped in.
He managed to make contact with a low, inside two-seam fastball, sending a ground ball skidding toward first base and the Koshien side.
"At this speed, if it were Inashiro's defense, that would've been a force out as well," Chris said.
Isashiki clicked his tongue in frustration but could only nod unwillingly.
Then came the fourth batter—Yuki Tetsuya.
Yuki chose a Forkball.
Like Kuramochi, he didn't catch the ball squarely. But unlike Kuramochi, Yuki's explosive power was on an entirely different level. Even without hitting the sweet spot, he forcibly scooped the ball up.
The ball didn't fly very high—but its speed was terrifying.
It shot diagonally past the infield, landing just in front of the Koshien bag. No matter who was playing second base, stopping that ball would've been nearly impossible.
A clean hit through the infield.
Even Kanzaki Ryou couldn't fully suppress Seidou's lineup under pitch restrictions—especially when facing teammates who were the most familiar with his pitching and fully accustomed to his velocity.
After Yuki, Miyuki Kazuya swaggered into the batter's box, bat resting casually on his shoulder.
The moment Kanzaki saw him, a headache formed.
In all of Seidou, there was probably no one who understood Kanzaki Ryou's pitching better than Miyuki.
"Bases loaded. No outs."
Coach Kataoka's calm voice suddenly rang out.
Kanzaki's expression darkened instantly.
Why does the difficulty keep increasing…?
Hearing this, Miyuki flashed Kanzaki a smug, schadenfreude-filled grin. Chris, meanwhile, chuckled softly.
Bases loaded with no outs—this situation demanded careful planning. They needed to induce a double play while minimizing damage.
Chris pondered briefly.
Based on his understanding of Miyuki, hesitation would only give him an opening. The best option was an outside, low two-seam fastball. Even if Miyuki made contact, the chances of the ball being driven far were slim. Given Kanzaki's pitch speed, a grounder toward third base was highly likely.
Chris gave the sign.
Kanzaki nodded calmly.
Miyuki was a left-handed batter, and a two-seam fastball tailing away from his body wasn't easy to handle. However, Miyuki knew Kanzaki's pitches better than anyone. A ball aimed at the outside corner could easily be read as a two-seamer.
In other words, whether this first pitch became a Nice Ball depended entirely on the direct confrontation between pitcher and batter.
Since Chris dared to call this pitch, it meant he trusted Kanzaki completely.
As long as this pitch succeeded, they would gain control of the at-bat.
This was why pitching was considered an art—completed only through the combined efforts of pitcher and catcher.
Kanzaki took a deep breath, adjusting himself into peak condition.
I won't let you down, Chris-senpai.
The moment Kanzaki's expression changed, Miyuki felt a chill run down his spine.
He knew that look all too well.
Kanzaki's serious.
Miyuki loosened his wrists, eyes sharpening.
If they're going all out… then I'll meet them head-on.
Around the field, the second- and third-year players watched with utmost focus. This was the first true confrontation between Kanzaki Ryou, Miyuki Kazuya, and Chris—no one wanted to miss a single moment.
Whoosh!
Kanzaki lifted his left leg, and in the blink of an eye, his arm snapped forward like a whip.
The white ball exploded out of his hand, carving a blazing white line through the air.
Miyuki had already started his swing early, locking onto the pitch's trajectory.
Outside low!
His eyes never left the ball as his bat swept horizontally toward its lower half.
Just as the ball crossed the plate, it suddenly dropped and tailed outward.
Bang!
The bat bit firmly into the baseball.
A jolt of numbness shot through Miyuki's hands.
"Haah!!"
Miyuki roared, muscles straining from his toes to the top of his head.
The pitch was still slightly off from what he'd expected. If he hadn't swung, it might've been called a ball—but now, he could only grit his teeth and drive it out.
The ball screamed toward third base.
Everyone held their breath, eyes locked onto its flight path.
It sailed past third base—then drifted outside the foul line.
"Foul!" Coach Kataoka called out sharply.
Phew—
A collective sigh escaped the crowd.
Almost instinctively, everyone turned their gaze toward Fujiwara Takako, who stood near Coach Kataoka with the speed gun in hand.
Just from the sound and trajectory, they already knew—it was fast.
Under everyone's expectant stares, Fujiwara glanced at the display.
Her pupils shrank.
Her mouth fell open.
"One… five… nine."
She looked up at Coach Kataoka.
"159 kilometers per hour."
"What?!"
"That fast?!"
"Did I hear that right?"
"Whoa—that's basically 160!"
The field erupted in disbelief.
On the mound, Kanzaki Ryou shook his wrist lightly.
That pitch had reached his top velocity—but the control hadn't been perfect.
If I were just a little off…
Miyuki might've sent it flying.
Looking at Miyuki, Kanzaki honestly didn't know what to say.
Even at that speed, Miyuki had still made solid contact.
This guy had seen Kanzaki's pitches far too many times. His eyes, reflexes, and timing had already adapted.
A catcher like him…
Really is a monster.