"Pfft… Shootball?!"
Miyuki Kazuya shot to his feet.
He could no longer stay calm.
"What?!" the dugout echoed in shock.
Ushijima… can throw a shootball?
Tanba clenched his fists.
As a pitcher, he understood better than anyone how difficult that was.
He was still struggling to stabilize his forkball.
Mastering one breaking pitch was already exhausting.
And Ushijima?
He just casually revealed another one.
Kawakami stared at the mound in disbelief.
"He never ntioned it…"
Coach Kataoka's expression darkened then shifted to sothing deeper.
"A trump card…"
"You really are bottomless, Ushijima."
He slowly sat back down.
Four-seam.
Two-seam.
Sinker.
Cutter.
And now—
Shootball.
"Five types of pitches…" Rei Takashima whispered, adjusting her glasses with trembling fingers.
"And that shootball… it's faster than his sinker."
"Two-seam drifts slightly right."
"Sinker drifts and sinks."
"But that shootball—"
"It cuts outward with a rising angle."
"At nearly 140 km/h…"
Her voice lowered.
"That level of control…"
Miyuki clicked his tongue.
"That idiot…"
"He's been hiding this?"
On the field, the infielders had seen it clearly.
Kominato blinked.
"That wasn't a sinker."
Yuki Tetsuya gave a small nod.
Kuramochi grinned widely from shortstop.
"Unfair. Just unfair."
Masuko scratched his head at third.
"If I had to bat against that… I'd want to dodge."
The arrival of the shootball crushed whatever spirit Mishima had left.
By the end of the fifth inning—
21–0.
A complete rout.
It was Seido's first match of the sumr.
During post-ga regrouping, so of Mishima's third-years could no longer hold back.
They cried openly.
Sawamura froze when he saw it.
He had never witnessed seniors crying like that.
On the walk back, Ushijima spoke calmly.
"Did you see their eyes?"
"Resentnt. Regret. Frustration."
"If you were their junior… how would you feel?"
Sawamura and Furuya fell silent.
"What if it were us?" Ushijima continued. "What if Seido lost?"
The image hit them instantly.
Their own third-years…
Heads lowered.
Careers ending.
"And as pitchers," Ushijima said quietly, "how would you face them?"
The words felt heavy.
If I were stronger…
If I were more reliable…
If I hadn't caused crises…
Would the result change?
Could I really stand on the mound without sha?
Ushijima stopped walking.
"I don't want to experience that."
"I don't want to carry the burden of ending my seniors' high school careers."
His gaze sharpened.
"So I won't easily hand over the mound."
"Not until your strength earns it."
"Unless we reach Koshien this year—"
"The mound stays with ."
Sawamura clenched his fists.
Furuya's eyes burned quietly.
Tanba stepped forward.
"Work hard," he said gently. "This year, Ushijima carries us."
"But your role is different."
Furuya blinked. "Different how?"
Chris answered calmly.
"We third-years only have this sumr left."
"Our goal is Koshien."
"If we're greedy—"
"The championship."
He looked at the first-years.
"But you…"
"Your goal is a three-peat."
The words stunned them.
Three consecutive national championships?
With Ushijima leading this year—
It wasn't impossible.
If the pitching staff deepened next year—
If they matured—
Seido could dominate for years.
"A three-peat…" Sawamura repeated.
Then he grinned.
"We'll do it."
Miyuki folded his arms.
"Then stop obsessing over ga ti."
"Focus on growth."
"As you just saw—Ushijima already has five pitch types."
"You two combined don't even match that."
The comnt hit hard.
Sawamura counted silently.
Four-seam.
That's it.
Furuya?
Four-seam… and a developing forkball.
Even together—
They were behind.
Miyuki smirked slightly.
"Catching up isn't about complaining."
"It's about work."
On the field, Ushijima stood quietly ahead of them.
Not arrogant.
Not boastful.
Just firm.
This year—
He would carry Seido to Koshien.
But next year?
That depended on them.
And for the first ti—
Sawamura and Furuya truly understood.
Being a first-year pitcher at Seido wasn't about standing on the mound.
It was about preparing to own it.
User Comments
0 comments from readers