"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 ca, every ga would beco 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 beco standard.
"Next week marks 100 consecutive check-ins…"
"That ans 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 na 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 na was called, the team instinctively turned to look at him.
Even injured, he still carried a jersey number.
He was still part of this sumr.
"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 excitent.
The jersey distribution ended.
Tomorrow—
The opening ceremony.
They shouted their team slogan one more ti, voices echoing across the field.
Sumr had officially begun.
The next day.
At iji Jingu Baseball Stadium, the East–West Tokyo Sumr Tournant 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 collapse from heatstroke before the tournant 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 ?"
"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 gas, and tournants.
There had barely been ti to breathe.
"You can just co," 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 ho tonight?"
Yuki nodded.
"He doesn't have a match today."
"He keeps asking about you. Says he heard you're good."
"I told him to co watch our gas."
"But every ti we play, his Little League team has gas too."
So they kept missing each other.
Ushijima smiled faintly.
"So he might co 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 sa."
"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 rciless sumr sun—
The West Tokyo Sumr 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.
Sumr would not be gentle.
It would be decided on the mound.
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