The joke Sawamura Eijun made earlier was nothing more than a small interlude.
It wasn't enough to affect Ushijima Wakatoshi in the slightest.
Following the main group, Ushijima headed toward Field B, preparing for the position tests and the registration of position preferences.
The first step was filling out defensive preferences.
Each new player could choose two positions, similar to filling out choices for a college entrance exam.
For his first defensive preference, Ushijima Wakatoshi wrote:
Shortstop.
For his second defensive preference, he wrote:
Pitcher.
When registering, players could only choose defensive positions.
Batting order was not sothing one could apply for.
That depended entirely on batting performance during daily training.
Only players with strong batting ability would be assigned a fixed spot in the lineup.
Given Ushijima Wakatoshi's current six skills, Shortstop was unquestionably his best choice.
His Gold-level infield hits and Gold-level speed already placed him at a national standard.
With that combination, securing a stable spot in the batting order would not be difficult.
Even if he couldn't break into the cleanup positions imdiately, at the very least, one of the lower three batting spots would belong to him.
Defensively, Shortstop suited him perfectly.
His Diamond-level stamina paired with Gold-level speed allowed him to cover an enormous range.
Whether it was lateral movent or chasing down hard-hit balls, he would excel.
As for Pitcher—
His control was only Silver.
Even though he currently possessed two types of pitches—and even had a Diamond-level four-seam fastball—
Without control, speed alone was aningless.
Just like Furuya Satoru, who was currently testing his pitches on the mound.
Even without pitching at full power, Ushijima could tell—
Furuya's maximum velocity easily exceeded 160 km/h.
But so what?
Without control, that speed was wasted.
That was precisely why Ushijima didn't blindly choose Pitcher as his main position.
On one hand, his pitch repertoire was too shallow, and his control was lacking.
On the other—
He simply preferred being a batter.
"Next—Ushijima Wakatoshi!"
Hearing his na, Ushijima stepped forward and entered the batter's box, gripping the bat firmly.
This test would assess every freshman's batting ability and defensive fundantals.
The pitcher assigned for this test was the assistant coach himself.
Standing in the right-handed batter's box, Ushijima Wakatoshi's tall, slender figure straightened.
The mont he lifted his head to look toward the mound—
An oppressive presence spread outward.
The assistant coach paused slightly.
…Huh?
Even though it was only a test, the pressure coming from this freshman was unmistakable.
Only then did he recall—
This kid was Yuki Tetsuya's cousin.
No wonder.
Yuki's aura was already strong enough.
He hadn't expected his cousin to possess a similar presence.
Interesting…
The assistant coach decided to take this at least sowhat seriously.
Ushijima Wakatoshi locked his gaze onto the mound, his batting stance steady and focused.
The pitching motion began.
The assistant coach gripped the baseball in his right hand.
His arm snapped forward like a whip.
The white ball shot toward the catcher's mitt.
The instant the ball left the pitcher's hand—
A flash of white light seed to spark behind Ushijima Wakatoshi's eyes, like the mont Conan discovers a crucial clue.
In that split second, everything beca clear.
Two-seam fastball.
Velocity: 135 km/h.
Breaks to the right after 0.5 seconds.
Pitch type.
Speed.
Trajectory.
Break.
All of it was instantly analyzed.
And at the sa ti—
Ushijima Wakatoshi swung.
CLANG!!!
The mont the tal bat t the baseball, a crisp, ringing sound echoed across the field.
—Whoosh!
The ball shot forward at terrifying speed.
"Oh—!"
Freshn nearby couldn't help but cry out.
The baseball dropped sharply into the infield, landing in the gap between second base and third base.
The instant the ball touched the ground, Ushijima Wakatoshi released the bat and exploded forward.
Full throttle.
No hesitation.
His stride opened completely as he charged toward first base.
Swish—swish—
Ushijima Wakatoshi was like a white bolt of lightning tearing across the dirt.
The surrounding freshn froze.
"So fast!"
"That footwork—are you kidding ?!"
"He's already at first?!"
"That speed is insane!"
"Soone that tall shouldn't move like that!"
"Isn't this against the rules?!"
"At 188 centiters?! That's cheating!"
Ushijima Wakatoshi reached first base safely, and imdiately, several assistant coaches turned their heads.
The club mber in charge of records rapidly scribbled notes.
"How's the ti?"
"4.11 seconds."
"…Oh?"
"That's impressive."
"Under 4.2 seconds to first base."
"That's faster than Kuramochi."
"Kuramochi's fastest is 4.25."
"And his average is around 4.3."
"…Looks like Kuramochi's about to feel so pressure."
"With speed like this, that's already national level."
Ushijima Wakatoshi calmly returned to the batter's box.
Since this was a test, one swing wasn't enough. Multiple attempts were needed for accuracy.
The assistant coach signaled again.
CLANG!
The second pitch dropped one ter in front of second base.
Bat down.
Sprint.
First base—safe.
CLANG!
The third pitch shot between first and second, slipping cleanly past the second baseman's glove.
Ushijima seized the opening and flew down the line.
Safe.
CLANG!
The fourth pitch was sent skidding into the infield again.
No hesitation.
Another explosive dash to first.
After five consecutive pitches, the assistant coach finally raised his hand.
That was enough.
The club mber read the data aloud.
"Five pitches."
"All five—infield hits."
"All five—under 4.2 seconds to first base."
"The fastest: 4.09 seconds, third swing."
"The slowest: 4.12 seconds, fifth swing."
For a mont—
The field erupted.
Even the noise from Field A, where the second- and third-years were training, began to stir.
The news spread quickly.
"Hey—did you hear?"
"The first-year, Ushijima Wakatoshi."
"Assistant coach pitched 135 km/h."
"He hit every single one for infield hits."
"Five in a row."
"And his run to first base is consistently in the 4.2-second range."
On Field A, several second- and third-year players stopped what they were doing.
"…Wait."
"4.2 seconds?"
"That's faster than Kuramochi."
"…Are you serious?"
For the first ti—
Ushijima Wakatoshi's na truly entered Seido's radar.
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