Seido's match had ended.
But the impact of that game was only beginning.
Ichidai Third High
Inside the meeting room of Ichidai Third High School, the atmosphere was tense.
Coach Tahara folded his arms.
"How was Seido?"
The scout didn't hesitate.
"Strong. Very strong. Especially their pitcher."
"They developed a new pitch."
Coach Tahara narrowed his eyes.
"A curve? Slider? Changeup?"
"With that four-seam velocity, a changeup would be deadly."
The scout shook his head.
"Not a changeup."
"It's a sinker… and a shootball."
Silence.
"What did you say?" Tahara leaned forward.
"Shootball? And sinker?"
"Yes. And they're still polishing it. The control isn't perfect yet."
"But there are still two games before the quarterfinals."
"When we meet them… it might already be complete."
Tahara exhaled slowly.
"That boy… Ushijima…"
"He's practically a pitching textbook."
"Five pitch types. As a first-year."
"He hasn't even finished his first semester."
Envy flickered across his face.
"Terrifying."
Inashiro Industrial
At Inashiro Industrial High School, an emergency meeting had already begun.
"What?! A shootball?!"
Masatoshi Harada's eyes widened.
"Another one?"
Coach Kunimoto frowned.
"Is that pitch tailored specifically for us?"
Harada adjusted his glasses.
"It probably is."
He began listing calmly.
"Carlos. Shirakawa. Yoshizawa. Me. Yamaoka. Hirai. Fan."
"Seven right-handed hitters."
"Only Narumiya and Fujikawa bat left-handed."
He looked around the room.
"Two-seam. Sinker. Shootball."
"All three move inside against right-handed batters."
The room went silent.
Seven right-handed hitters.
Three inward-moving breaking balls.
And a four-seam that already touched 148 km/h.
If that velocity stabilized—
155 wasn't impossible.
At that speed, even the fastball alone was a nightmare.
Now add three inward-breaking variations?
It was suffocating.
"Tch…" Narumiya Mei clicked his tongue.
He hated the feeling rising in his chest.
After their practice match months ago, when Ushijima had responded to his provocation with overwhelming dominance, Narumiya had stopped being complacent.
He already had:
Four-seam. Slider. Forkball. Changeup.
Four types.
He was working desperately to polish his cutter before the finals.
He believed that would give him the edge.
But now—
Ushijima had reached five.
"First-year brat…" Carlos muttered. "And he's already this good?"
As the leadoff hitter, Carlos had felt Ushijima's presence more than anyone.
Narumiya suddenly stood up.
"Can't we fast forward time?"
"I want Seido tomorrow."
"Coach, let's face them now!"
His childish frustration made a few teammates smile bitterly.
But then the scout added quietly—
"His batting is terrifying too."
"Four at-bats."
"Four outfield extra-base hits."
"One was a left-field hit that ran all the way back home."
"With runners on."
The room stiffened.
"A bases-loaded run?" someone whispered.
Narumiya snorted.
"That's because Mishima's pitcher is third-rate."
Carlos crossed his arms.
"Even against a third-rate pitcher, could you run from left field all the way home?"
Narumiya didn't answer.
He knew.
Even if the ball hit the center-field wall—
He couldn't guarantee reaching third.
Let alone home.
Shirakawa spoke calmly.
"Even if the pitcher was weak, the result still stands."
"Facing him… you'd feel pressure too, wouldn't you?"
Narumiya turned away.
"Hmph. I won't lose."
But inside—
The pressure had already begun.
Seido had thrown them a challenge.
And everyone in that room understood it.
Back at Seido
Meanwhile, Seido's field was lively.
They were satisfied with the 21–0 victory.
But Ushijima wasn't done.
He kept throwing shootballs during practice.
Full power.
Maximum velocity.
Which meant—
"UGH! Not again!!!"
Isashiki clutched his side after getting hit.
"Control your damn pitch!"
Yuki Tetsuya sighed.
"The velocity is impressive…"
"But the control is rough."
Even Coach Kataoka nodded.
"It's a weapon."
"But unstable."
Ushijima adjusted his grip quietly.
He knew.
He had intentionally sacrificed control to increase speed.
The shootball had reached over 140 km/h.
But at that speed—
It was still wild.
However, Ushijima's eyes were calm.
If velocity comes first—
Control can follow.
And when both align—
That pitch would become truly terrifying.