"Forget it…"
"If I really get Golden-level Control…"
"Then I'd be completely invincible in high school baseball."
Ushijima stared at the practice net, thinking calmly.
"With Golden Control, my four-seam would break 155+ km/h."
"The cutter could reach 145–150."
"The two-seam could hit 150–155."
"Three fastballs at that level… how many high school batters could even react?"
He exhaled slowly.
If that day came, every game would become a blowout.
Would there even be any suspense left?
After calming himself, Ushijima continued throwing.
High-Speed Jet Ball.
One pitch after another struck the net.
140… 141… 142 km/h.
Stable — but far from its true ceiling.
Without improved control, the Gold-level High-Speed Jet Ball couldn't reach 150, let alone 160.
For now, it could only function as a high-quality Shootball.
The Shootball had once dominated Japanese baseball in the 70s and 80s.
But in modern baseball, it was rarely a pitcher's main weapon.
Sliders had become standard.
"Next week marks 100 consecutive check-ins…"
"That means a Diamond Chest."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Control… or power."
"Either one would change everything."
The team gathered.
Coach Kataoka stood before them.
"I will now distribute the jersey numbers. When your name is called, step forward."
The air grew tense.
"Number 1… Ushijima Wakatoshi."
Ushijima jogged forward.
Before handing over the ace number, Coach Kataoka looked him in the eyes.
"You understand what this number represents."
Ushijima nodded.
The ace.
The responsibility of the mound.
"Pitch well. Dominate every school that stands before us."
"Including Inashiro."
"Yes!" Ushijima answered firmly, accepting the No. 1 jersey.
"Number 2, Miyuki Kazuya."
"Number 3, Yuki Tetsuya."
"Number 4, Kominato Ryosuke."
"Number 5, Masuko Toru."
"Number 6, Kuramochi Yoichi."
"Number 7, Tanba Koichiro."
When Tanba's name was called, the team instinctively turned to look at him.
Even injured, he still carried a jersey number.
He was still part of this summer.
"Number 8, Isashiki Jun."
"Number 9, Shirasu Kenjiro."
"Number 10, Kawakami Norifumi."
"Number 11, Furuya Satoru."
Sawamura's eyes widened.
"Number 11?! He climbed fast… He used to be 18!"
His jealousy was obvious.
"Number 12, Miyauchi Keisuke."
…
"Number 19, Kominato Haruichi."
"Number 20, Sawamura—"
"YES!!!"
Sawamura shouted before the coach even finished.
The entire team jumped.
Coach Kataoka blinked.
"That was… fast."
"Thank you, Coach!" Sawamura bowed stiffly, nearly trembling with excitement.
The jersey distribution ended.
Tomorrow—
The opening ceremony.
They shouted their team slogan one more time, voices echoing across the field.
Summer had officially begun.
The next day.
At Meiji Jingu Baseball Stadium, the East–West Tokyo Summer Tournament opening ceremony was underway.
Under the blazing sun, countless schools packed the stadium grounds.
The heat was suffocating.
Furuya swayed slightly in line.
"…It's hot."
Ushijima yawned lazily.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forehead against the back of Yuki Tetsuya's neck.
"It's too crowded. How long is this ceremony going to last?"
"Why is it all just speeches?"
"Not so loud," Yuki muttered.
"Don't let me collapse from heatstroke before the tournament even starts."
"It's not that bad," Yuki said calmly, arms crossed.
Then he added casually,
"My mom asked when you're coming over for dinner."
"You transferred here in April and haven't visited once."
Ushijima blinked.
"…Did you ever invite me?"
"You didn't say anything. How was I supposed to invite myself?"
Yuki fell silent.
It was true.
Since April, it had been nothing but school, training, practice games, and tournaments.
There had barely been time to breathe.
"You can just come," Yuki finally said. "My father is your uncle. My mother is your aunt."
"It's not like we're strangers."
Ushijima snorted.
"Where's Masashi? Is he going home tonight?"
Yuki nodded.
"He doesn't have a match today."
"He keeps asking me about you. Says he heard you're good."
"I told him to come watch our games."
"But every time we play, his Little League team has games too."
So they kept missing each other.
Ushijima smiled faintly.
"So he might come to Seido next year?"
"Up to him. You know how he is."
"Taciturn?"
Ushijima chuckled.
"How are you any different?"
Suddenly—
Yuki's aura flared.
The pressure radiating from the Seido captain made even nearby players glance over.
Ushijima just grinned.
"You two brothers are exactly the same."
"Quiet. Aloof. Hard to read."
Yuki didn't deny it.
"…Masashi is worse."
Ahead of them, the ceremony finally began wrapping up.
In the stands, banners fluttered.
Under the merciless summer sun—
The West Tokyo Summer Preliminaries officially opened.
And Seido's ace stood at the front of the line.
Number 1 on his back.
A new pitch hidden in his arsenal.
And a Diamond Chest waiting in seven days.
Summer would not be gentle.
It would be decided on the mound.