"Yeah… at first I thought it was a fastball," the second batter muttered in frustration.
"But it sank right before I hit it."
"It was definitely a sinker."
He frowned.
"If I bat left-handed in the right-hand box… he shouldn't throw a sinker, right?"
"Against a left-handed hitter, a sinker drops toward the outside corner. That's an easy pitch to drive."
Thinking this through, he stepped confidently into the right batter's box.
Chris noticed immediately.
He's crowding the plate.
"Trying to shut down the sinker?"
He understood the logic.
Against a left-handed batter standing in the right-hand box, a sinker would drift toward the outer corner—perfect for extending the arms and sending it to the outfield.
But…
Did they really think that was Ushijima's only weapon?
Chris's eyes gleamed.
Ushijima didn't just have a sinker.
His two-seam could run inside on right-handers.
His cutter could bite into a left-hander's hands.
Even his fastball—when dialed below 145 km/h—could jam the inside corner.
Sinker wasn't the only trap.
Chris set the target.
Ushijima saw it.
Nodded.
Delivered.
"Whoosh!"
The ball came in with the exact same release point and early trajectory as the previous sinker.
"It's the sinker! Got it!"
The batter's eyes lit up.
He swung decisively, the sweet spot of the bat catching the ball as it dipped toward the outer edge.
"Bang!"
Contact.
The ball shot sharply between second and third, bouncing toward left field.
"I'm on!"
The batter sprinted toward first, confident.
But—
Kuramochi was already moving.
Like a flash of lightning, he cut across the infield, intercepted the ball before it could roll deep.
"Yaha~!"
He scooped it cleanly, leapt lightly—
"Smack!"
A laser throw to first.
Tetsuya caught it without moving an inch.
"Out!"
The umpire's voice rang out.
The batter froze in disbelief.
"That's impossible! It bounced into left field!"
He turned—
And saw Kuramochi standing exactly where the ball had landed.
They were prepared.
"…I read the pitch correctly," he muttered bitterly.
"But that sinking angle… it's nastier than I thought."
Ushijima jogged calmly off the mound, expression unchanged.
Kuramochi crossed his arms smugly.
"I saved you twice."
"Oh?" Ushijima replied coolly. "Isn't that what a shortstop is supposed to do?"
"…You!"
Kuramochi choked on his pride.
The dugout burst into laughter.
Back inside, Miyuki leaned toward Chris.
"How was it?"
Chris adjusted his mask slowly.
"To be honest… I'm getting addicted."
Everyone looked at him.
"If Coach hadn't said this game was for sinker practice, I wouldn't even let him throw just that."
"I wanted to call for a cutter on that last batter."
He paused.
"Catching just the four-seam isn't enough anymore."
That one sentence said everything.
Receiving Ushijima's pitches—
The raw velocity.
The sharp movement.
The weight behind every throw.
It was intoxicating.
For a catcher, this was pure pleasure.
Now it was Seido's turn at bat.
First up—
Yuki Tetsuya.
Fourth batter.
Behind him—
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Fifth batter.
The two cousins stepped out together, tall and composed, their presence alone stirring the crowd.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
Even Mishima's bench tensed.
Inside Seido's dugout, everyone watched carefully.
Mishima's coach quickly signaled defensive adjustments.
"Shortstop's shifting toward second."
"They're stacking the right side."
"They don't want to challenge Tetsu-san head-on," Kuramochi muttered.
Coach Kataoka finally spoke.
"You all… watch these two at-bats closely."
The players straightened.
These two—
Were Seido's most dangerous weapons.
Yuki, the immovable fourth batter.
Ushijima, the ace—with an even higher batting average.
Silence fell.
Yuki stepped into the box.
His presence alone pressed down on the pitcher.
Mishima's catcher gave instructions:
"Work the corners. Don't give him anything easy."
"A walk is acceptable."
The first pitch came.
Yuki didn't swing.
"Thud."
"Ball!"
The pitcher clenched his jaw.
"The way he waits is irritating…"
Pressure crept in.
Just a little.
And that little was enough.
The next pitch—
Left his hand wrong.
Inside.
Too far inside.
Yuki didn't hesitate.
"BANG!!!"
The metallic crack echoed like thunder.
The ball tore through the right side before the shifted infield could react.
The outfielder chased desperately—
Too late.
Yuki reached second safely.
An extra-base hit.
Coach Kataoka nodded slightly.
"You don't need a full swing."
"Even a strong grounder can break their defense."
Now—
Ushijima stepped into the box.
With his captain already standing on second, he glanced subtly toward Yuki.
Yuki met his eyes.
No words needed.
They understood each other perfectly.
The defense shifted nervously.
The crowd held its breath.
On second base stood Seido's pillar.
In the batter's box stood their ace.
And when those two locked eyes—
It wasn't just strategy.
It was intent.