"Damn it, they're really underestimating me! Throwing me something like that?"
"That kind of trajectory, that kind of speed—doesn't anyone think it's too easy?"
Ushijima Wakatoshi returned to the rest area, grumbling loudly.
To some people, however, his complaints sounded completely different.
Who?
The first three batters who had failed to reach base.
"Hehehe~"
The moment Miyuki caught the hidden meaning, he clutched his stomach and burst into wicked laughter.
Kuramochi, Kominato, and Isashiki fell into dead silence.
"Is it really that easy to hit?" Chris asked calmly as he prepared to bat.
"Yeah. Pretty easy," Ushijima nodded.
"Sliders under 125 km/h have decent speed, but the movement is too simple."
"After getting used to Kawakami's side-arm pitches, this guy's delivery isn't anything special."
"The pitcher lowers his release point, so the ball comes in low."
"But a lower trajectory sacrifices speed."
"If it stayed that low and fast, we'd be digging sweet potatoes out of the dirt."
"So he can't throw it too hard."
"The speed isn't impressive. It just looks tricky because it stays low."
He spoke casually.
But to three specific seniors, every word felt like a knife.
Ushijima suddenly paused, a strange look crossing his face.
"What's wrong?" Chris asked.
"You're batting seventh, right?"
"Yeah. I'm up after Masuko."
"If you get a hit," Ushijima said lightly, "those three might crawl into a hole."
"Even with an injured shoulder, you'd reach base while some perfectly healthy players popped out and got caught."
"If I were them, I'd quit the club out of pure shame."
"Hahahaha!"
Miyuki laughed shamelessly.
The three seniors remained motionless.
They had only failed to reach base once and this brat wouldn't let it go.
"In that case," Chris smiled faintly, "I'd better get on base."
"Otherwise, someone might start making sarcastic comments."
"Oh no, no," Ushijima waved innocently. "You're injured. That's understandable."
Chris walked out without replying.
Masuko stepped up and smashed the ball into the infield. It rolled cleanly toward the outfield.
Despite his large frame, he reached first base safely.
Bang!
Chris swung at the very first pitch a slider and sent it soaring.
"Oh ho~"
Ushijima watched the ball sail over the fence.
"Ah… a home run. I'm jealous."
The three eliminated batters fell even deeper into silence.
No.
They wanted to bury themselves.
Chris hadn't played an official game in over a year. He was still injured.
Yet in his first game back, he crushed a two-run homer.
Meanwhile, they hadn't even reached base.
From fourth through seventh batter, everyone scored.
The contrast couldn't have been clearer.
But in truth, the first three at-bats had provided valuable information. Because of them, the core lineup was mentally prepared.
Ushijima's teasing was sharp but not malicious.
This was just how athletes bonded.
Loud. Competitive. Chaotic.
That was the daily life of boys who loved sports.
"Shirasu…" Isashiki glared.
"Ahem." Shirasu quietly walked out.
True to his steady nature, he wasn't greedy. A clean single to first base was enough.
Now the eighth batter had reached base.
Next up: Furuya.
Bang!
On his very first swing, Furuya launched the ball deep.
"Oh ho ho~ This is getting interesting!"
Ushijima smirked.
"From fourth to ninth: two singles, two extra-base hits, and two two-run homers."
"Our Seido lineup is terrifying, isn't it, Isashiki-senpai?"
He sounded casual.
But the implication was clear.
Even Yuki Tetsuya couldn't hide his smile.
"That bases-loaded shot to left field earlier," Yuki said, "completely shattered Mishima's morale."
Ushijima didn't answer.
But everyone knew it was true.
Baseball is a sport where one swing can change everything.
Ushijima's earlier blast to left had shifted the momentum entirely.
Without it, Chris and Furuya might not have hit their home runs.
One was injured.
The other was playing his first official game.
And yet both went yard.
That said everything.
"Damn it! I'm getting on base this time!" Kuramochi stormed out with his bat.
"Cheetah," Ushijima called lazily, "if you don't get on base now, the coach might drop you to Second String."
"?!"
Kuramochi nearly choked.
"Don't pressure him," Chris said helplessly.
When Kuramochi stepped into the batter's box, Kominato Ryosuke prepared behind him.
"Onii-san," Ushijima added, "if you don't get on base this inning, Haruichi might take your starting position."
Ryosuke said nothing.
But his eyes sharpened.
"Ushijima, please stop pressuring my brother," Haruichi said softly.
Ushijima only smiled.
The first pitch came.
Kuramochi swung immediately.
The contact wasn't perfect.
The placement wasn't ideal.
But he was fast.
He sprinted—and beat the throw.
"YOSHAAAA!"
He howled triumphantly from first base.
From the lounge, Ushijima mocked him again.
"You're celebrating like that just for first base?"
"If we hit another home run, should we set up banquet tables?"
Laughter erupted.
Even Rei Takashima smacked Ushijima lightly on the back, signaling him to calm down.
When Kominato Ryosuke stepped in, he didn't hesitate.
First pitch—swing.
Miss.
But it gave Kuramochi the chance to steal second.
Second pitch Ryosuke struck cleanly.
A sharp hit to first.
Now runners stood on the corners.
No outs.
The pressure shifted heavily onto Mishima's pitcher.
And the inning… was far from over.