Todoroki Raizo turned his head toward Kitamura Kou.
Although Kou had never caused him any trouble, he still chose to give a reminder.
"Kitamura, you've probably noticed by now—the opposing coach is using the same strategy as us: dragging this into a stamina battle. You know what to do, right?"
Kitamura Kou smiled brightly.
"Don't worry, Coach. I know what I'm doing."
Raizo almost felt like crying.
How did I get so lucky to have such a reliable, low-maintenance pitcher?
Then he glanced at his own son… and immediately felt even more emotional.
They're both human, so why is the difference this big?
Kitamura Kou walked over to Akaishi Osamu, who was putting on his catcher's gear.
"Akaishi, we've shown them enough fastballs in the first round. Time to mix in breaking balls. We don't need to chase strikeouts anymore—letting them make contact isn't a bad thing. It might even help us save pitch count."
Akaishi stood up and picked up his glove.
"Exactly what I was thinking. With the later innings in mind, this is the right call."
"Bottom of the fourth inning! Inashiro Industrial High School at bat—first batter, center fielder, Carlos!"
Carlos stepped into the batter's box, gripping his bat tightly as he swung it back and forth. His eyes locked onto Kitamura Kou, a hint of calculation flickering within them.
You've had your fun striking everyone out… now it's time for a real fight.
We can't let a first-year rookie toy with Inashiro.
He let out a sharp whistle, openly provoking Kou.
Kitamura only chuckled.
Pretty bold… You want me to keep throwing full power? No—what you're really planning is to force me into a quick pitch rhythm, just like Seido did.
Sorry, but that won't work on me.
Without hesitation, Kou stepped forward and delivered the first pitch.
"Boom!"
The ball shot toward home plate—but noticeably slower than before.
At the same time, Kou took a few casual steps forward, a faint, almost eerie smile on his lips.
Carlos narrowed his eyes.
What's this? Not even 150 km/h… and right down the middle?
With his control, there's no way this is a mistake. And at this speed… it's probably a breaking ball.
If I swing blindly, I'll fall into his trap.
But if it's actually a fastball… I'd be wasting a perfect opportunity!
The ball closed in fast.
Carlos had no time left.
In the end—
He stuck to the plan and held back.
"Thump!"
The ball landed squarely in Akaishi's glove.
Carlos's face twisted with frustration.
"A center-cut fastball?! You brat… are you looking down on me?!"
It took him a moment to suppress his anger and reset his stance—but the fire in his eyes was now blazing.
Kou ignored him completely and threw the second pitch.
"Boom!"
Same speed. Same spot. Right down the middle.
Carlos's thoughts spiraled.
Swing? Don't swing?
Hold… hold… keep holding—
"I've had enough! To hell with it!"
He roared internally and swung with all his might.
The bat cut through the air with explosive force—
But—
The ball suddenly shifted.
What looked like a center fastball veered and sank at the last moment, slipping beneath his bat.
"Thump!"
"Strike two!"
Carlos froze, staring in disbelief.
A two-seamer?!
This is insane…
Did this guy start pitching in the womb or something?
A 155+ km/h fastball… and now a nearly 150 km/h two-seamer?!
What kind of monster is he?!
The Inashiro dugout fell silent once again.
Masatoshi Harada swallowed dryly.
"That pitch… was a two-seamer, right?"
Riku Yamaoka nodded stiffly.
"If we're not seeing things… then yeah."
Even Narumiya Mei, who had been unconvinced earlier, clicked his tongue.
"Hmph. It's not even 150 km/h. The theoretical max for a two-seamer is way higher. Why are you all acting like country bumpkins?"
The entire team immediately glared at him.
Is that something a normal human says?!
Harada snapped back without hesitation:
"If you're so amazing, why don't you go throw one at 148 km/h? Actually, never mind—145 would already be impressive for you."
Narumiya froze, stunned.
Then—
"You wanna say that again, Masa-san?!"
He lunged forward, only to be quickly held back by the rest of the team.
The dugout erupted into chaos once more.
Meanwhile, in the batter's box—
Carlos was in no mood for any of that.
Cold sweat trickled down his face.
He had never felt this kind of pressure before.
Kou didn't care in the slightest.
He lifted his arm—
And fired the third pitch without hesitation.
"BOOM!!!"