On the eve of the group finals, Seidou High School Baseball Team officially announced its starting lineup.
Everyone had already guessed most of the positions, so there wasn't much surprise—until Coach Kataoka announced the starting catcher for the next game.
When he said it would be Miyuki Kazuya, the atmosphere in the room shifted.
The players first turned toward Chris, then to Miyuki.
Chris, who seemed to have known beforehand, showed no visible reaction. His expression was calm, unreadable.
In contrast, Miyuki's excitement was impossible to hide. His eyes shone with anticipation and disbelief.
The others exchanged glances. They wanted to ask why.
Chris had never once made a mistake as Seidou's main catcher. Why would he suddenly be replaced?
This wasn't like the previous game, where Coach Kataoka had deliberately rested Chris. Their upcoming opponent, Ikeda High School, was strong—an opponent they had to take seriously.
Logically, Seidou should've been sending out their strongest lineup.
So why make this change?
When the question reached their lips, the third-year players swallowed it back down.
Chris's performance hadn't been flawed—but it hadn't been particularly dominant either.
And while Miyuki had fewer appearances, every time he stepped on the field, he had stunned the audience. Whether as a pinch-hitter or behind the plate, his sharp instincts and confidence stood out.
Seidou never chose players based on seniority, only ability and performance.
From that perspective, Miyuki starting wasn't unreasonable.
Even so, the room was filled with uneasy silence.
Coach Kataoka didn't linger to explain. After giving his instructions, he simply turned and left.
Once he was gone, the players were left staring at one another, unsure what to say.
Should they comfort Chris? Congratulate Miyuki?
No matter what they said, it felt wrong.
So, they said nothing.
Sometimes silence was best—some struggles had to be faced alone.
Soon, the clubhouse emptied out, leaving only three people: Chris, Miyuki, and Zhou Hao.
Miyuki's initial excitement had cooled. The weight of the situation sank in.
Even if his own performance had been excellent, it wasn't as though he had completely surpassed Chris.
If anything, Chris's experience still gave him the edge.
Replacing him wasn't a simple decision.
Zhou Hao studied Chris carefully.
Even though both he and Miyuki were first-years, Zhou Hao's bond with Chris was much stronger. Chris had always been his partner since joining the First String—they'd developed a silent, perfect rhythm.
Would Chris really give that up so easily?
And more importantly, would Coach Kataoka make such a move without a serious reason?
"Chris-senpai," Zhou Hao finally asked, "are you injured? Is it serious?"
That was the only explanation he could think of.
Miyuki's head snapped toward Chris, his eyes widening. "You're injured?"
Chris frowned. "Don't make such a fuss. Do you want the whole team to hear?"
Both of them immediately fell silent—but the concern in their eyes said everything.
Their guess was right.
Chris sighed. "It's nothing serious, just a bit swollen. Doesn't affect my catching."
Zhou Hao frowned. "Swollen? How did that happen?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "What do you think caused it? A Spiral Ball that hits nearly 150 kilometers per hour—do you think my wrist's made of steel?"
Realization dawned on Zhou Hao. "So… it's because of my Spiral Ball?"
"Exactly." Chris gave a wry smile. "Especially your upgraded one—the penetrating force is unbelievable."
Miyuki frowned. "I didn't feel—"
He stopped mid-sentence, realizing how dumb it sounded. He hadn't caught a single Spiral Ball yet.
"I'll stop using it, then," Zhou Hao said firmly.
Even though it was his signature pitch—the Rasengan-like Spiral Ball packed with compressed power—he wouldn't risk injuring his catcher for it.
Chris chuckled softly. "Don't make it sound so dramatic. I already talked it over with the Coach. We'll be rotating catchers for your games."
"Rotating?" Miyuki blinked in surprise. "Is it that dangerous?"
"Only for the Spiral Ball," Chris explained. "If Zhou Hao throws it too often, we'll need rest intervals between games."
After the match against Osaka Kiryu High, Chris's wrist had started aching faintly.
He hadn't planned to mention it—until Takashima Rei noticed.
She immediately dragged him to the clinic for an examination, keeping it quiet from the others.
The doctor had simply said it was mild swelling, nothing major. But when he heard Chris was a catcher, he instantly nodded in understanding.
"You're from Osaka Kiryu, right? Tell your coach—Kuroda's pitches shouldn't always be caught by the same person."
Kuroda's reputation at Koshien was legendary—his fastball could hit 155 km/h.
Neither Takashima nor Chris cleared the misunderstanding.
Instead, they'd gone straight to Coach Kataoka and discussed the idea of alternating catchers.
Takashima had sighed afterward. "I didn't think Zhou Hao's pitch could match Kuroda's in destructive power…"
Chris nodded. "At 147–148 km/h, with that extreme spin, it's not just speed—it's force. Honestly, Zhou Hao's pitch might even be more destructive than Kuroda's."
--------------
Merry Christmas Everyone! 🥳🎄😘