"Shortstop groundout. Right field flyout. Third base catch."
"Three up, three down."
Back in the dugout, Ushijima Wakatoshi slowly clapped.
"Beautiful offense," he said dryly. "Six pitches total. Efficient. Efficient."
The three batters who had just returned froze in embarrassment.
Miyuki burst out laughing, clutching his stomach.
"Hahaha! That's brutal!"
Isashiki gritted his teeth. "I can't even argue back…"
But Ushijima wasn't finished.
"Third base catch! Right field catch! Are you three undercover agents for Mishima?"
"Why are you saving their pitcher so many pitches?"
"Should we transfer schools while we're at it?"
The dugout erupted in laughter.
Even Kominato Ryosuke, usually sharp-tongued, could only sigh helplessly.
Kuramochi's face turned red. He lightly kicked Ushijima's leg.
"Shut up and get on the mound already!"
In the end, it was Tetsu who spoke calmly.
"Take the field."
The joking stopped instantly.
Chris had already finished putting on his catcher's gear.
Number 17.
Today, he was no longer just the team recorder.
Today—
He was the starting catcher.
The coach had made his decision carefully.
It was Chris's last summer.
The opponent was manageable.
And most importantly—
Ushijima was on the mound.
In the stands, Seido's third-years were stunned.
"Chris is starting?"
"But his shoulder—"
Toujou, a perceptive first-year, narrowed his eyes.
"…It's because of Ushijima."
"What?"
Kanemaru nodded slowly.
"If Ushijima prevents runners from reaching base… Chris won't need to make difficult throws."
"He just has to receive."
"If there are no steals, no forced plays… his shoulder won't be tested."
The others slowly realized.
They had seen Ushijima dominate even Seido's first string in practice.
If anyone could suppress an opponent completely—
It was him.
"So this is Chris-senpai's dream…"
"Go Ushijima!"
"Go Chris!"
The cheers from the stands echoed across the field.
On the mound, Ushijima bent down and picked up a small bag of rosin.
He squeezed it lightly, then tossed it aside.
His eyes locked onto the strike zone.
No—
Onto Chris.
This was their first official battery.
Chris's past strength was unquestioned.
But now?
With that injured shoulder?
Ushijima needed to see for himself.
Behind the plate, Chris's pupils trembled.
From this angle—
From the catcher's view—
Ushijima's presence was overwhelming.
Confidence.
Calmness.
Pressure.
For a catcher, there was nothing more reassuring than a pitcher who radiated absolute belief.
During warm-ups, Ushijima had thrown casually.
But this—
This was real.
Chris gave the sign.
Fastball.
Center.
He held his glove firm in the middle of the zone.
Let me feel it.
Let me feel your real pitch.
On the mound, Ushijima understood immediately.
His fingers tightened around the seams.
Grip set.
He lifted his left leg high.
The batter from Mishima stared intensely—
Then froze.
Ushijima's body twisted.
His arm snapped forward like a whip.
The release—
A sharp explosion of sound.
The baseball tore through the air like a wild beast breaking its cage.
The sound alone made the batter flinch.
Boom!
Chris's eyes widened.
The ball rushed toward him with overwhelming force—
Heavy.
Fast.
Alive.
Thud!
The impact slammed into his mitt, driving it back slightly despite his firm stance.
His entire arm vibrated.
His heart pounded wildly.
This—
This was nearly 150 km/h.
For the first time, Chris was receiving Ushijima's true fastball.
The weight.
The spin.
The sheer determination embedded in it.
The ball didn't just enter the glove—
It roared into it.
Goosebumps spread across his body.
"Strike!"
Even the umpire's voice carried surprise.
The batter stepped back, pale.
"…That's terrifying."
The stadium buzzed instantly.
"My God! did you see that speed?"
"That's faster than during the Kanto Tournament!"
"Is that 150?!"
"Jingu Stadium doesn't have radar, but that was close!"
"He never exceeded 145 at Kanto!"
"So he's improved again?!"
"That first-year is a monster…"
On the mound, Ushijima exhaled slowly.
Behind the plate—
Chris was smiling.
Not nervous.
Not afraid.
Excited.
His fingers trembled slightly as he threw the ball back.
This is it.
This is what I've been waiting for.
For three months, he had watched from the sidelines.
Today—
He was finally receiving the ace.
And it felt—
Addictive.