Ping!
The white baseball was tipped and spun out of bounds.
Even though they were teammates—
The Seido players watching from the sidelines felt their skin prickle.
One out. No runners.
Kominato Ryosuke stood in the batter's box like a machine.
Precise.
Relentless.
Every good pitch that came into the zone—
Was met.
And sent away.
Without exception.
He had only let two balls pass.
And that…
Was the most terrifying part.
If they put themselves in Sawamura's position—
Watching the pitch count slowly climb, one ball at a time…
How long could they hold out?
No one had the confidence to answer that.
"I have to say… Kominato-senpai is really ruthless."
"If he had used this approach earlier—"
The speaker abruptly stopped.
Realizing how inappropriate that sounded.
He quickly glanced at Kawakami, about to explain—
But Kawakami shook his head calmly.
"I understand."
"If Kominato-senpai had done this to me before…"
"I would've broken down completely."
There was no avoidance in his tone.
No bitterness either.
Only acceptance.
"All I can do… is give everything I've learned at Seido."
"That's the only way I can live up to everyone's expectations."
"And my own."
"Good. That's exactly how it should be."
"For players like us… conviction matters more than anything."
Once confidence collapsed—
No advantage could save you.
Defeat would follow sooner or later.
Every Seido player understood that truth.
The reason they had risen to dominate the nation—
Wasn't just Zhou Hao's overwhelming presence.
Nor just their relentless training.
It was—
Belief.
A conviction that they would stand at the top.
And it was that belief that carried them through every obstacle.
Even now—
Just recalling it made their blood burn.
Kawakami might not be the most eye-catching player on the team—
But he was still part of Seido.
And that same fire burned within him.
Meanwhile—
The duel continued.
On the mound, Sawamura refused to back down.
The longer Kominato dragged the at-bat—
The more determined Sawamura became to end it himself.
Behind the plate, Miyuki's expression darkened.
This isn't good…
No matter what—
He couldn't let this continue.
Sawamura might be more stable than Furuya—
But he wasn't immune to pressure.
At this rate—
They'd end up walking Kominato after seven or eight pitches.
And if it dragged into double digits just for a walk—
That would be a disaster for Sawamura's evaluation.
And not just Sawamura—
Miyuki himself would be judged as well.
As the catcher—
If he couldn't guide his pitcher through trouble…
Then what right did he have to be Seido's starting catcher?
Chris was right there.
Equally skilled.
Perhaps even better.
If not for his recent injury—
That position might not belong to Miyuki at all.
What should I do…?
Miyuki signaled for caution—
But his mind raced.
The truth was—
He didn't have a clear answer.
Sawamura had only just joined the team.
They had barely worked together.
And with the Spring Tournament preparations—
Miyuki hadn't had the time to fully understand him.
Under these conditions—
How could he find the perfect solution?
Relying on the Jerk Pitch alone—
Wouldn't be enough.
Just as Miyuki hesitated—
A voice suddenly rang out from shortstop.
"Sawamura… why not try that?"
Miyuki's eyes flickered.
He didn't know—
But someone else did.
Zhou Hao.
And…
Coach Kataoka.
Behind his sunglasses, a faint glint passed through Kataoka's eyes.
Already…?
Has he reached that level so quickly?
On the mound, Sawamura turned.
He knew exactly what Zhou Hao meant.
But—
He had only just started practicing it.
He hadn't even mastered it yet.
Was it really okay to use it now?
Zhou Hao met his gaze.
Calm.
Certain.
Full of trust.
Go for it.
You'll be fine.
That look alone—
Was enough.
Sawamura felt something ignite inside him.
From watching Kawakami's earlier performance—
He already understood.
Nothing here would be handed to him.
In a national powerhouse like Seido—
Survival itself was a battle.
External competition was fierce.
But internal competition?
Even harsher.
If he wanted to stand here—
To stay here—
He needed to show something undeniable.
Something unforgettable.
"Haa…"
Sawamura exhaled slowly.
Then—
He raised his arm.
Set his stance.
In the batter's box—
Kominato Ryosuke's grip tightened instantly.
His smile remained.
But his eyes sharpened.
It's coming.
Although Kominato Ryosuke didn't know what Sawamura and Zhou Hao had just discussed—
But he could feel it.
Something was coming.
Those two weren't just exchanging looks—
They had already made a decision.
And whatever it was—
They were about to put it into action.
Then I won't give them the chance.
Kominato's eyes sharpened.
He couldn't afford to let this drag on any longer.
If he hesitated now, the situation would only become more complicated.
This pitch—
He would swing.
And end it cleanly.
Just as that thought settled—
Sawamura moved.
On the mound, he suddenly raised his glove high—
Like a wall, blocking everything in front of him.
Then—
His body rotated.
His arm spun like a windmill behind that shield.
Whoosh!
The ball exploded out of his hand.
Kominato froze for a split second—
Before finally catching sight of it.
Fast!
After a year of intense training, Sawamura's velocity had already reached a respectable level.
Not elite—
But solid.
Normally, that speed wouldn't trouble Kominato.
But now—
Something was off.
It's faster…
It felt like the pitch had suddenly gained another ten kilometers per hour.
He had prepared—
But now he had to adjust on the fly.
Too late.
By the time his bat came around—
He already knew.
I miscalculated.
The bat sliced through empty air.
The ball streaked straight into the mitt.
Pop!
"Strikeout!!"
Silence.
Then—
A ripple of shock spread across the field.
"He… missed?!"
"That was Kominato-senpai!"
"What just happened?!"
"Sawamura's motion looked bigger just now…"
"But his actual speed didn't increase that much, so why?!"
No matter how hard they thought about it.
No one could figure it out.
Behind the plate—
Coach Kataoka's eyes flickered.
Fortunately, his sunglasses hid the reaction.
Otherwise—
His usual composed image might have cracked.
"…Incredible."
He spoke quietly.
But sincerely.
The principle wasn't complicated.
By raising his glove and hiding his arm—
Sawamura had erased the batter's visual cue.
Normally, hitters rely on the pitcher's arm motion to track timing.
But Sawamura's flexible body allowed him to conceal everything—
Right up until the moment of release.
From the batter's perspective—
The arm didn't exist.
The wind-up didn't exist.
The ball simply—
Appeared.
And when it did—
It was already too late.
Even experienced hitters would feel as if the pitch had suddenly accelerated.
Not because it was truly faster—
But because their brains had lost the ability to track it.
Given time, someone like Kominato would adjust.
But the first time?
Missing entirely—
Was almost inevitable.
"Two outs! No runners!"
The players who had been cheering Kawakami earlier—
Fell silent.
Not because they had stopped supporting him—
But because they could see it clearly now.
Kawakami's two outs—
Came with help.
Luck.
And Zhou Hao's defense.
But Sawamura's?
Pure ability.
In Seido—
Strength spoke louder than anything.
And they couldn't deny what they had just witnessed.
Chris noticed the shift immediately.
He walked over to Kawakami and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"A game is decided by results."
"What the coaches choose—that's their call."
"All you can do…"
"…is throw every pitch with everything you have."
Kawakami froze—
Then slowly nodded.
Without that belief—
He would have given up already.
Because deep down—
Even he could see it.
Right now—
He was behind.
"Next batter!"
Isashiki Jun stepped into the box.
He stared at Sawamura, eyes burning.
"Kid… you're better than I thought."
He meant it.
That pitch—
Had exceeded all expectations.
Even Kominato had been struck out cleanly.
But—
That didn't mean he would back down.
For the team, this was a good thing.
But as a third-year—
He had his pride.
If he couldn't even handle a first-year pitcher—
What right did he have to stand here?
"Bring it on!"
Show me your best pitch.
I'll show you what real baseball looks like.
"I won't lose!"
Seeing Miyuki's signal—
Sawamura didn't hesitate.
He raised his glove—
Hiding everything again.
Pushing forward—
Like a wall.
Isashiki's eyes widened.
I can't see it…?
For the first time—
He realized it.
Sawamura's arm—
Was completely hidden.
No wind-up.
No release.
Just—
Nothing.
And then—
Whoosh!
The ball was already there.
Right at the heart of the strike zone.
So fast!
Without the visual cue—
The speed felt overwhelming.
Even Isashiki couldn't react perfectly.
But—
A pitch down the middle?
He would never let that pass.
He forced his swing.
Ping!
The moment the bat connected—
His face twisted.
Damn it—!
It wasn't a fastball.
It was that same moving pitch—
The Jerk Pitch.
The ball shot upward—
But lacked power.
It climbed—
Then stalled.
Less than twenty meters out—
It dropped straight down.
Sawamura stepped forward.
Raised his glove.
Pop!
"Out!"
Three outs.
No runners.
Silence swallowed the field whole.