Watanabe Tatsuya, Sanada Shunpei's classmate—and his trusted battery partner—understood him better than anyone.
Without hesitation—
He set his glove firmly on the inside corner, right against Kuramochi Yoichi's chest line.
Sanada didn't hesitate either.
He drove off the mound and fired.
"Strike!"
The ball tore through the air at around 145 km/h.
Kuramochi's eyes sharpened.
At the last second—
He shortened his grip and met it head-on.
"Clang!"
The impact rang out.
Kuramochi's expression changed instantly.
Heavy…!
His hands went numb from the shock, nearly losing his grip on the bat.
The speed's lower than Furuya's—but the weight…!
The ball sliced foul near the first-base line, just beside home plate.
A narrow escape."
Didn't I tell you? That's how you handle it!"
From the dugout—
Sawamura shouted loudly, even mimicking the motion.
Veins bulged on Kuramochi's forehead.
If this weren't mid-game—
He'd have already shut him up himself.
Clicking his tongue, Kuramochi reset—
Still crowding the plate.
But this time—
No pretense.
He held the bat short from the start.
Eyes locked on Sanada.
A clear challenge.
Sanada smirked slightly.
No fear.
The second pitch came immediately."
Strike!
"Same spot.
Same aggression.
Kuramochi didn't hesitate.
"Ping!"
But the contact—
Was weak.
Whether it was the lingering numbness in his hands—
Or the sheer weight of the pitch—
The ball dribbled awkwardly between the mound and third base.
Raichi stepped forward—
But—
"Raichi, leave it!"
Sanada charged in, scooping it cleanly and firing to first in one smooth motion.
"Out!"
"Nice one, Sanada-senpai!" Raichi laughed loudly.
"Beautiful play!"
"Keep it up!"
"Take them down one by one!"
Yakushi's bench erupted with energy.
"Sanada-senpai, let one reach the outfield sometimes—I'm getting bored out here," Kitamura Kou joked.
"I'll try," Sanada replied with a grin.
Meanwhile—
Seido's dugout fell quiet.
They had already given up two runs.
Barely stopped the bleeding.
And now—
Their leadoff hitter had been shut down in just two pitches.
Momentum—
Firmly in Yakushi's hands.
"Second batter—second baseman, Kominato!"
Ryosuke Kominato stepped in—
Eyes narrowed, smile faint.
Sanada's expression turned more serious.
This one's different.
From the scouting reports—
Kominato was a technician.
A batter who thrived in drawn-out battles.
The kind who could walk you to death—
Or punish you if you got careless.
Sanada didn't back down.
He attacked.
"Strike!"
Inside again.
"Ping!"
Kominato met it cleanly—
Sending it foul.
Just like Kuramochi said…
These pitches are heavy.
Another image flashed in his mind—
A certain pitcher from Osaka Kiryu.
Interesting…
"What's next?" Kominato thought calmly.
So far: four-seam and cutter.
Anything else hidden?
Sanada worked quickly.
No delay.
Second pitch—
"Strike!"
Inside again.
"Ping!"
Another foul.
Two strikes.
Pressure built.
Behind the plate—
Watanabe signaled for another inside pitch.
Sanada shook his head.
Again.
Signal.
Again—
He refused.
The disagreement didn't go unnoticed.
Kominato's eyes sharpened.
Something's coming.
Not the cutter…
Then—what?
In the stands—
Murmurs spread.
"Did they mess up the sign?"
"Doesn't look like it…"
Sanada exhaled slightly.
Then signaled back.
Keep attacking inside.
Watanabe chuckled.
So like you…
He set the glove—
Right down the middle.
"Don't blame me if the coach yells at you later," he muttered.
Sanada smirked.
Then delivered.
The motion—
Looked identical.
But Kominato saw it.
Slightly slower…
Around 140… maybe 145.
Got it.
As the ball approached—
He stepped in—
Locked onto his predicted path—
And swung.
This one—