First batter, Carlos as the lead-off man for Inashiro walk to the right batter box. He practice his swing a few more times before taking his stance. He glance downwards a little and tighten his grip on the bat. On the other hand, seeing the calm first year pitcher on the mound, Carlos couldn't help but giving his one hundred percent focus. Not even one second later, a frightening loud pitch goes straight to Miyuki's mitt. Carlos couldn't react in time and even if he want he can't.
"Strike!"
"Nice pitch Mio"
After receiving the pitch, Miyuki tosses the ball back towards Mio. A nasty fastball down in the middle and on top of that the pitch speed display on the scoreboard show an unbelievable number. 149 km/h. A loud exclamations throughout the stadium echos. Seido's dugout was full of noise and energy.
"That's it Fujikawa!"
"His pitch goes like a nuclear bomb!"
"Eijun-kun stop.."
"Harucchi you should cheers! Come follow me"
"Shut up Sawamura"
A contagious smile spread towards each of them, that one pitch set them loose after a stifling and suffocating atmosphere. Even coach Kataoka usual poker face have a slight smirk on his face.
***
"What a pitch! Fujikawa Mio greets us with a fabulous pitching style early in the inning, what a monster first year!"
"Can't be denied that this is the best debut for a first year compare to the previous years!"
Carlos take a step back and close his eyes, he imagine the speed of the previous pitch and take a practice swing before stepping on the batter box after the umpire call him. Shirakawa on the deck circle clench his fist, silently cheering for Carlos. Inashiro's dugout is equally loud in their cheers as the Seido's dugout.
"You're seeing it Carlos!"
Miyuki squat down and make a few hand sign. Carlos is thinking that he should at least foul Mio's pitch to show the batter behind him what kind of pitches in Mio's arsenal or so he thought. The second pitch come quickly, a high and inside fastball! Carlos flinch and take a step back. He sucks in a deep breath. 151 km/h.
"Strike!"
With a 0-2 count, everyone was focusing on the next pitch. Will he throw a fastball? Or breaking ball? Mio touch the rosin bag and calmly accept Miyuki's tosses. He adjust his cap and focus on the pitch signs Miyuki show. Mio shakes his head. Another signs. Shakes. Then lastly, Miyuki's serious expression crack when Mio nod his head on the current signs he show. What a bold kouhai! But he like it. Then Miyuki position his mitt, and Mio start his windup.
As soon as the ball left Mio's hand, Carlos started his swing. The spectators unconsciously held their breath as the pitch crossed the plate. Silence hung over the stadium for a split second before it shattered into a chorus of cheers, screams, and applause.
"Strike! Batter out!"
"Strike three swinging! That's the first out"
"Can you believe it? He's dominating on the mound with nothing but a fastball. What an unbelievable courage!"
"And yes his courage is one thing, but look at that pitch speed, Morita-kun!"
The moment the commentator mentioned the pitch speed, every eye turned toward the scoreboard. A glaring red number lit up the scoreboard. 153 km/h.
"What's up with that speed?!"
"Are you kidding me??"
"How can a high school student throw that??"
"Woahhhh, that first year isn't joking!"
Carlos walk towards Shirakawa and say a few thing before he go back to the dugout. The moment Shirakawa stand on the right box, he recalled Carlos's evaluation of Mio.
'He's good'
If a laidback and composed person like Carlos get serious, then Mio must be an excellent pitcher. He is a shrewd person who is keen at observing opponents during games, and will exploit any signs of weakness shown by them. Shirakawa's plan right now is to at least get a piece of Mio's pitch. Here comes the pitch!
'Gotchu'
Shirakawa smile when he timed Mio's pitch perfectly, he was thinking that he at least can send it on the infield. Just as the bat was about to make contact, the ball broke sharply downward. Shirakawa missed it completely.
"Strike!"
"Nice pitch"
Shirakawa look at Miyuki with a dumbfounded expression. Seeing Miyuki's calmly tosses the ball back, he take a deep breathing and tightened his grip on the bat as he stepped back into the batter's box.
'I definitely timed that swing perfectly... but the ball suddenly dropped.'
His eyes narrowed beneath the brim of his helmet.
'That had to be his breaking ball.'
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to calm down.
'Fine... I get it now.'
'He's trying to mess with my timing.'
Miyuki crouched behind the plate and flashed another sign.
Mio gave a slight nod.
'What's next?'
Shirakawa wondered.
'A fastball... or another breaking ball?'
Mio began his windup.
The motion was identical.
The arm swing.
The stride.
The release.
"Fastball!"
The ball exploded from Mio's fingertips exactly like the previous pitch. Shirakawa committed without hesitation, his swing starting at the perfect moment for a fastball.
Then...
Something felt off.
'Too slow...!'
His eyes widened.
The ball wasn't dropping like the curveball.
It was simply... taking its time.
The same arm speed.
The same release.
Yet the ball floated toward the plate, arriving just a fraction of a second later than his brain had predicted.
Shirakawa's bat sliced through empty air long before the ball reached the strike zone.
Thwack!
The ball settled neatly into the catcher's mitt.
"Strike!"
Silence washed over the stadium for a heartbeat.
Then the crowd erupted.
"A brilliant sequence!" the commentator shouted. "After making Shirakawa respect the curveball's sharp break, Mio follows it with a perfectly disguised changeup! The arm speed never changed, but the timing did!"
Shirakawa stared at the mound, disbelief written across his face.
"He didn't beat me with speed..."
"He beat the clock inside my head."
"You know, this may sound too sudden but I'm glad that I came to Seido. Fujikawa Mio is the real deal here"
Shirakawa glanced toward Miyuki but said nothing. Not that he disagree but he can't afford to lose his focus right now.
Right now, his only priority was to protect the plate.
He tightened his grip on the bat, his eyes locked on Mio.
Anything that comes close... I'll hit it.
He had no intention of letting another pitch slip past him and he refused to let another pitch fool him.
Behind the plate, Miyuki watched the subtle change in Shirakawa's stance. The grip on the bat had tightened. His front foot was quieter. His eyes were no longer searching for the perfect pitch.
He was simply trying to survive.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Miyuki's lips.
'He's protecting the plate now.'
He flashed the sign.
Mio looked in.
A small nod.
No hesitation.
The stadium fell silent once more.
Mio came set.
He lifted his leg and drove toward the plate, every movement identical to the previous pitches.
The ball exploded from his fingertips.
'Fastball!'
Shirakawa reacted instantly, throwing the bat toward the ball before it could overpower him.
Then...
The pitch dipped.
Not as violently as the curveball.
Not slowly enough to be obvious.
Just enough.
His eyes widened.
'No—!'
Clink!
The ball barely nicked the end of the bat, spinning harmlessly into the air before drifting into the seats beyond the dugout.
"Foul!"
Shirakawa clicked his tongue as he stepped back into the batter's box.
He had made contact...
But it hadn't felt like a victory.
Miyuki caught the replacement ball and tossed it casually back to the mound.
"He's completely on the defensive now," the commentator said. "Mio isn't trying to overpower him anymore. He's forcing Shirakawa to react instead of think."
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
Every pitch seemed to pull Shirakawa deeper into Mio's rhythm.
It no longer felt like a battle of strength.
It felt like a game of chess.
And with every move, Mio remained one step ahead. Shirakawa stepped back into the batter's box, rolling his shoulders to shake off the frustration.
He's controlling every swing...
For the first time in a long while, he couldn't predict what was coming.
Behind the plate, Miyuki settled into his crouch.
'He's completely trapped.'
'Now... let's finish this.'
He gave the sign.
Mio nodded.
The stadium held its breath.
He came set.
One smooth motion.
Leg lift.
Stride.
Release.
The ball shot from his fingertips on a line toward the outer half of the plate.
"Fastball!"
Shirakawa's eyes lit up.
This was it.
The pitch he'd been waiting for.
He unleashed his swing.
Then, just as the bat closed in...
The ball disappeared beneath it.
The curveball broke sharply toward the bottom outside corner.
Whoosh!
His bat sliced through empty air.
Thwack!
The ball smacked into Miyuki's mitt.
"Strike three!"
For a heartbeat, the stadium was frozen in silence.
Then the roar came.
The stands exploded with cheers as Miyuki sprang to his feet, pumping his fist.
"What an unbelievable sequence!" the commentator shouted over the deafening crowd. "A curveball. A changeup. A fastball. Then another curveball! Every pitch built on the one before it. Shirakawa never had a chance to settle in!"
Shirakawa remained in the batter's box, his bat still hanging over home plate.
He stared at the mound.
Not in anger.
Not in disbelief.
But in admiration.
'He wasn't just throwing pitches...'
'He was leading me exactly where he wanted me to go.'
On the mound, Mio calmly accepted the ball from Miyuki.
His expression never changed.
One batter down. Two out.