"…"
"…Is this for real?"
After changing his clothes, Ushijima Wakatoshi stared blankly at the newly opened treasure chest from his sign-in reward.
This was already his second Silver chest, obtained in his second consecutive week of signing in.
Silver Curveball.
That meant he now possessed four pitches:
Two-seam [Silver]
Cutter [Silver]
Curveball [Silver]
Four-seam [Diamond]
It felt as if the system was determined to force him down the path of a Pitcher.
If you really want me to be a Pitcher, don't just give me Diamond-level pitch types…
At least give me Gold Control.
Only Gold Control would allow him to truly unleash the power of these pitches.
"…This is a tragedy," Ushijima muttered.
"I feel like I'm about to get beaten up today."
After changing, he headed straight for the field.
The moment he appeared, the gazes of all the First String members locked onto him.
Every single one of them stared like hungry wolves at the bastard first-year who had been hiding his strength.
The sense of pressure was especially intense from the two pitchers—Tanba and Kawakami.
To them, Ushijima Wakatoshi was nothing less than a sudden, massive threat.
"Don't look at me like that," Ushijima said helplessly.
"If I had a choice, I wouldn't even want to be a Pitcher."
"Being a strong batter is already more than enough for me."
"And playing center field is pretty relaxed."
"The Pitcher position isn't a good job at all."
"You do the hardest work on the team, bear the greatest pressure, and get targeted by every batter."
His blunt words made Tanba and Kawakami feel even more awkward.
Ushijima hadn't been hiding his strength out of scheming intent—
He genuinely just wanted to focus on batting.
Yesterday's exposure had been an accident.
And now, the coach wanted to test him.
"Enough with the whining—get started already!"
"I can't wait to smash you, you damn first-year!"
A loud-voiced senior roared, urging Ushijima onto the mound.
Ushijima could only sigh.
Looking down at the baseball in his hand, he ultimately chose silence.
At that moment, Miyuki Kazuya, wearing catcher's gear, jogged over and spoke quietly.
"Hehe, Ushijima," Miyuki said with a grin.
"What pitches can you throw? Give me a heads-up so I can set the signals."
Ushijima nodded.
A Pitcher had to coordinate with the Catcher in advance.
Not only signals—but also clearly explaining what pitches he could throw.
"So the Catcher knows what to call."
"Two-seam. Four-seam. Cutter."
"…What?"
Miyuki froze for a split second.
"A Cutter?"
"Hm? What's wrong?" Ushijima asked calmly.
He deliberately didn't mention the Curveball he had just acquired.
In most people's eyes, quality was better than quantity.
Besides, the more he revealed, the greater the chance he'd be locked into the Pitcher role.
Until he obtained Gold or higher Control, he had no intention of fully exposing his talent.
Unfortunately, reality didn't always follow plans.
"How's your Control?" Miyuki asked, eyes gleaming with interest.
Ushijima didn't hesitate.
"Don't expect anything. It's terrible."
"Ya haha~!"
Instead of being disappointed, Miyuki burst out laughing.
"That's fine. You're only a first-year—bad Control is totally understandable."
"I can tell you're not confident in it at all."
"But even so…" Miyuki's eyes sharpened.
"With these three pitches alone, you can already show terrifying power."
"Let's start with a full-power pitch."
"I want to see your maximum fastball velocity."
Ushijima nodded, showing he understood.
Stepping onto the pitcher's mound, he looked down at the rubber plate.
The baseball rotated slowly in his right hand.
He kicked the dirt beside the plate with his right foot, settling his stance.
"Kuramochi!" Coach Kataoka called out.
Carrying his bat, Kuramochi stepped forward, staring at the junior standing on the mound.
The First String reserves took their positions as temporary fielders.
The starters watched quietly from the side.
"Start!"
Coach Kataoka, acting as the umpire, gave the signal.
Standing on the mound, Ushijima Wakatoshi raised his head and looked toward home plate.
His eyes met Miyuki's glove.
He watched the hand signal.
And the position of the mitt.
Right down the middle?
Is this to test my Four-seam's velocity?
Tch… you're the ones testing me. If something goes wrong, don't blame me.
With that thought, Ushijima Wakatoshi adjusted his grip inside the glove.
In baseball, different pitches required different grips.
For a Four-seam fastball, the index and middle fingers were placed across the widest part of the seams, with the seams perpendicular to the fingers. At the moment of release, the ball had to roll cleanly off the fingertips, creating powerful backspin from bottom to top.
That rotation interacted with the air, generating lift and speed—
allowing the Four-seam to achieve its maximum velocity.
It was called a Four-seam because, as it flew toward the batter, four nearly parallel seams could be seen spinning violently forward.
Grip set.
Ushijima Wakatoshi raised both hands above his head.
His left leg lifted.
His torso twisted, coiling power into his frame.
In the right-handed batter's box, Kuramochi's expression sharpened instantly.
The moment Ushijima entered his pitching motion, Kuramochi focused with absolute intensity.
Then—
Stomp!
Ushijima's left foot slammed forward.
The twisted body, which had been storing power, snapped open in an instant.
His right arm whipped forward.
The baseball exploded from his fingertips.
WHOOSH—!!!!
A piercing sound tore through the air.
The white baseball rocketed toward home plate at terrifying speed.
Kuramochi's eyes flew wide open.
What he saw—and what his instincts screamed at him—was no longer a baseball.
It was a ferocious, starving wolf, baring its fangs as it charged straight at him, ready to devour everything in its path.
The sheer momentum and pressure of the pitch made Miyuki Kazuya, crouching behind the plate, shudder.
Behind him, Coach Kataoka felt it as well—
An overwhelming force.
An oppressive presence.
BANG!!!!!
The baseball smashed violently into the iron protective net several meters behind the catcher.
The deafening crash echoed across the field.
Fortunately, it was still early.
No spectators were present.
If anyone had been standing behind that net, they might have collapsed from shock alone.
…!!
Silence followed.
Every First String member of Seido stared at the trembling net and the ball slowly falling to the ground.
Their pupils shook.
Yuki Tetsuya.
Kominato Ryosuke.
Isashiki.
All the players waiting their turn stood frozen, completely dumbfounded.
No one spoke.
Because they all understood the same thing at that moment—
This first-year…
Was a monster.