"Ushijima, are you really laying all your cards on the table?"
"In response to their provocation?"
In the rest area, Coach Kataoka stood with his arms crossed, staring at Ushijima Wakatoshi as he stepped down from the mound.
Ushijima removed his cap before answering.
"All my cards on the table?" he repeated, looking genuinely puzzled.
"When did I ever say this was everything I have?"
"!!!!!"
"What?!" Tanba and the others stared at him in shock.
The atmosphere froze.
Ushijima knew that if he didn't give a convincing explanation, Coach Kataoka wouldn't let him off easily. Fortunately, he had already prepared his answer.
"My brother once said that Narumiya is the textbook example of a pitcher."
"To be honest, he deserves that praise."
There was a pause.
"But I'm annoyed."
He lowered his gaze slightly.
"I'm annoyed because he's too arrogant. Too overbearing."
"Last year, during the Sumr Preliminaries semifinals, when Seido lost to him…"
"I really didn't like that smug smile on his face."
Silence.
"So he strutted around all last year. This year… he'd better lie down properly."
The words were calm — but full of edge.
"Pitcher textbook?" Ushijima looked back at the coach.
Coach Kataoka t his eyes, waiting.
The entire team was waiting.
"There are so pitches," Ushijima continued slowly, "that I can throw."
"I just don't like throwing them."
Miyuki, Chris, and Miyauchi's eyes lit up instantly.
As catchers, nothing excited them more than hearing sothing like that.
It's not that I can't throw them. I just don't want to.
That ant options. Hidden weapons. Untapped variations.
Just like the sinker — Ushijima had mastered it after focused training.
Coach Kataoka narrowed his eyes.
"I hope you're not bluffing. And I hope, when the ti cos, you're willing to use even the pitches you dislike."
Ushijima's expression shifted slightly.
"To be honest… I don't like slow pitches."
"They're boring."
"A man should be fast."
"Hahaha! What are you, a sports car?" Kuramochi burst out laughing.
But Miyuki and the other catchers were already thinking.
Slow pitches…
Curveball? Slider? Forkball? Changeup? Knuckleball?
Sure, there were high-speed versions of those pitches — but compared to a blazing four-seam fastball, they were still slower.
Miyuki stepped closer.
"So… want to try using one soti?"
"No."
Ushijima answered instantly.
"Instead of wasting ti on sothing slow, I'd rather perfect my sinker."
"I won't even consider mastering those pitches until my sinker consistently breaks 140 km/h."
"And my four-seam fastball hasn't even unlocked its full 155 km/h yet."
"That's my priority. Everything else can wait."
His direction was crystal clear.
Once his control improved and his four-seam surpassed 155 km/h…
That alone would be enough to overwhelm Narumiya i and the powerhouse of Inashiro Industrial High School.
"Enough talk. It's our turn to bat," Chris reminded them.
Now it was Seido High School's turn at the plate.
And their lineup exploded.
First batter: Kuramochi.
A perfectly placed infield hit — safe at first.
Second batter: Kominato.
Another sharp infield hit. Runners on first and second.
Third batter: Isashiki.
A deep shot to right field! Kominato advanced to third, Kuramochi raced ho.
One run scored.
Fourth batter: Yuki.
CRACK!
A three-run ho run that cleared the bases.
4–0.
The montum didn't stop.
When Ushijima stepped into the batter's box as the fifth hitter, he ripped a long drive to left field for a stand-up double.
By the end of the inning, all nine Seido batters had co to the plate.
Seven runs.
A devastating offensive display.
"Seido's lineup is terrifying this year…"
"That first-year ace is batting fifth?!"
"To make the first string as a freshman… that's insane."
The pressure on Inashiro mounted.
"Hmph."
Narumiya i folded his arms, clearly dissatisfied.
"I bat fifth too."
"With pitching like that, he can't even hit a ho run?"
"If it were , I'd send it flying."
On the field, the sides switched.
But Ushijima didn't return to the mound.
Instead, he jogged toward center field.
"What?! He stepped off the mound?"
"As the ace? How could he give it up so easily?"
Narumiya frowned deeply.
In his world, the mound belonged to him alone. No matter how tired or battered he beca, he would never give it up.
So why would Ushijima?
"Maybe he only pitched that inning to answer your provocation," soone said calmly.
"Now that he's responded, there's no need to continue."
"And this is Seido's training week. He's probably conserving stamina."
Narumiya scoffed.
"That just ans his stamina isn't good enough."
Coach Kunimoto imdiately refuted that.
"We've trained for six straight days. Yesterday, they faced Kiryu — last year's national runner-up."
"He shut them out completely."
"And you're saying his stamina is lacking?"
Narumiya clenched his fists.
"He's taller than . Younger than . Stronger than . And throws faster than …"
"Damn it!"
"Those first-years are the worst!"
He turned seriously to Masatoshi Harada.
"Senpai. If we face Seido in the qualifiers… I'm going to crush that brat."
Shirakawa's calm voice cut in.
"You think you can blow away a 150 km/h fastball?"
"…."
Narumiya folded his arms, cheeks puffed, sulking like a child.
The team, long accustod to this sight, simply sighed.
Nothing unusual.
But deep down, everyone understood sothing clearly.
This year's Seido…
Was terrifying.
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