"Senpai, here's your cake."
"Huh?"
Fujiwara Takako blinked in surprise, covering her mouth.
"It's a thank-you gift for your help, Senpai," Kanzaki Ryou said with a grin. "You worked hard managing the cheer squad and the cheering section during the ga. It's only right I show my appreciation."
He spoke casually, but his words carried sincerity. For Kanzaki, owing favors was sothing he wanted to avoid.
Fujiwara Takako accepted the small box, her cheeks flushing pink.
"It's fine. I'm happy to help, Kanzaki."
"Alright, then I'll go train now." Kanzaki turned to leave, then paused and looked back with a playful smile.
"Oh, by the way, Senpai — you can call Ryou from now on. I like it when people use my given na."
"...Mm."
Fujiwara Takako lowered her head and nodded softly. Call him by his given na directly?
Before she could dwell on it, a teasing voice ca from behind.
"Oh my, a little cake~"
Mita Yuka wrapped her arms around Takako from behind, smiling like a mischievous older sister.
"S-Senpai, stop ssing around!" Takako yelped.
"Tsk tsk, it's just for you, huh? I want so too," Mita teased, poking her cheek.
"I'm not talking to you anymore!" Takako's face turned red as she quickly slipped away, putting the cake carefully into her bag.
That afternoon, training resud.
After warm-ups ca base-running drills. The continuous shuttle sprints had the first-years gasping for air in no ti.
In contrast, the upperclassn seed completely unfazed — though they were breathing hard, their endurance and focus were on another level. True monsters forged by daily grind.
Once the basic training for freshn ended, Kanzaki joined the first string's practice alongside Miyuki.
Out in center field, Kanzaki took part in fielding drills. The upperclassn hit balls all over the field — sharp line drives, awkward bouncers, and high flies.
Kanzaki, lacking experience, struggled at first. His footwork was clumsy, and his throws occasionally went astray.
"Watch the ball, Kanzaki!" soone barked.
He was scolded repeatedly, sweat dripping down his face.
The upperclassn, rembering how flashy his debut had been yesterday, began hitting balls toward him with deliberate intensity.
Show off too much, and this is what you get, they thought. A silent agreent ford among them — ti to teach the rookie a lesson.
Even so, Kanzaki wasn't the most miserable one on the field. That honor went to Miyuki Kazuya, who stood before a basket full of baseballs, pitching them nonstop for batting practice like an emotionless machine. His face was pure despair.
After fielding ca pitching training. Kanzaki approached the dugout, where Coach Kataoka stood reviewing notes.
"Coach," Kanzaki called.
Kataoka looked up. "What is it?"
"I have a request regarding pitching practice."
A murmur ran through the nearby players. A first-year making a request about training? Everyone turned to listen.
"Go ahead," Kataoka said evenly. "As long as it's reasonable, I'll consider it."
"I'd like to add a simulated ga practice session," Kanzaki began. "I'll pitch, and the upperclassn will take turns batting. Three pitches per person. There are eighteen people on the current first string, so it won't exceed sixty pitches."
Kataoka raised an eyebrow. "Your reason?"
Kanzaki looked around at the players who'd stopped what they were doing to watch. His gaze was steady.
"For , facing different types of batters seriously helps improve — my experience, my strategy, and my composure."
He paused before continuing.
"For the upperclassn, my pitching — with its speed and control — provides valuable batting practice from a new angle. It helps sharpen timing and reaction."
"And since it's only three pitches per batter, it won't take too long. I don't think anyone would refuse."
A few players broke into cold sweat. This kid had guts. No one ever made requests about the team's training schedule — that was the coaching staff's domain.
Kataoka crossed his arms, deep in thought. It was, indeed, a good idea — beneficial for both sides.
But his expression remained unreadable, and Kanzaki could feel the weight of that silence. Still, his eyes didn't waver.
"Won't this be too much for you physically?" Kataoka finally asked.
That question caught Kanzaki slightly off guard. The coach's first concern wasn't the logistics — it was him.
"Less than sixty pitches. I can handle it," Kanzaki replied confidently, warmth rising in his chest.
Kataoka gave a short nod. "If you feel any discomfort, tell imdiately."
"Yes, sir."
Satisfied, Kataoka stepped forward. The players instinctively gathered closer — the coach was about to announce sothing.
"You all heard what Kanzaki just said," he began. "I approve his proposal."
"Huh?!"
The upperclassn exchanged looks of disbelief. He actually pulled it off!
But before they could react, Kataoka's next words froze them in place.
"Kanzaki is willing to do extra work to help you improve your batting. As upperclassn, don't you feel ashad?"
Kanzaki nearly choked. Coach, please—are you trying to make public enemy number one?!
"Therefore," Kataoka continued, "anyone struck out by Kanzaki will voluntarily run five kiloters after training."
"...Huh?!"
Every upperclassman turned pale. Kanzaki's pitches were fast, precise, and vicious. Even Azuma and Yuki couldn't guarantee they wouldn't strike out.
"What? Any objections?" Kataoka's cold gaze swept across the group.
"No, sir!!" everyone shouted in unison.
In the dugout, the managers exchanged whispers.
"Kanzaki's made more enemies again," Mita Yuka said, amused.
"Won't that cause problems?" Fujiwara Takako asked worriedly. "Ryou should still try to get along with the upperclassn…"
"Don't worry," Mita replied with a chuckle. "They're just playing along. For these baseball maniacs, getting a chance to face Kanzaki in a simulated ga is sothing they've been hoping for."
Takako relaxed slightly but said nothing more.
That day, during the first simulated match, all eighteen first-string players were struck out — every single one of them.
Even Azuma and Yuki, the team's strongest batters, only managed to foul a few pitches.
When training ended, the eighteen upperclassn began their five-kiloter punishnt run under the curious stares of the other mbers. Every single one wore a face full of resentnt — all directed at Kanzaki.
"Good thing I'm not on the first string anymore," Chris said with a rare smile.
Although he was no longer playing due to injury, his na was still on Seidou's active tournant roster, which couldn't be changed until the Spring tropolitan Tournant ended. That was why Coach Kataoka hadn't promoted anyone new to replace him yet.
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