It had taken Nanjo Taishi a long time to mentally prepare himself.
But even now, standing across from Kanzaki Ryou, he couldn't help but lament how unfair fate could be.
Bang!
A sharp crack echoed through the training hall.
Kanzaki's pitch had already been fired.
"Nice ball."
Chris caught the pitch cleanly, glove raised high above his head.
"154 kilometers!"
Azuma Kiyokuni stared at the radar gun in disbelief. "This guy's a monster!"
Nanjo exhaled helplessly. Chris's eyes, however, gleamed with interest.
So this is Kanzaki Ryou's current top speed... impressive.
Even if his control wasn't perfect, that kind of velocity was enough to destroy timing on its own.
"Again," Chris ordered calmly.
Kanzaki nodded and unleashed two more pitches with full force—
154 km/h, then 155 km/h. Both missed the zone high and outside.
"Now, pitch normally," Chris said, raising his mitt to the inside corner.
Kanzaki took a breath. "Senior, are you going to bat?"
"Yeah," Azuma replied, grabbing his bat and stepping into the box. His eyes locked onto Kanzaki's mitt like a predator sizing up prey.
Seeing him so serious, Chris chuckled. "Want to see two pitches first?"
"No need!" Azuma shot back.
Kanzaki might be a prodigy, but Azuma wasn't one to back down—he'd hit plenty of fastballs this quick before, even turned some into home runs.
Chris gave a subtle hand signal. His mitt shifted low and outside.
Kanzaki's motion was smooth and fluid. He lifted his leg, coiled, and released.
The ball exploded from his hand like a flash of white lightning.
Azuma swung with all his might.
Crack!
The bat sliced through empty air. The ball slipped cleanly beneath it, landing in Chris's glove with a snap.
To Azuma, it felt as if the pitch had disappeared.
"Damn it… such a sharp drop!" Azuma muttered, shaking his bat. "Again!"
Chris smiled faintly.
That last pitch had looked like a straight fastball heading for the heart of the zone—until it suddenly broke down and away at the last instant.
Compared to a few months ago, Kanzaki's velocity wasn't the only thing that had improved.
His breaking movement had grown sharper, heavier… more vicious.
"Inside fastball this time," Chris signaled.
Kanzaki nodded and fired.
Azuma roared, unleashing another powerful swing.
Crack!
The ball flew high—then curved foul.
"Foul ball!" Nanjo blurted instinctively.
Azuma gave him a look that said, I didn't need the reminder.
"Amazing, Senior. You hit my four-seam on the first try," Kanzaki said with a grin. "As expected of Seidou's monster slugger and captain."
Azuma scoffed. The pitch had been brutally fast and heavy—harder than anything he'd faced in a while. Even connecting cleanly would've been difficult.
Without enough raw strength, it was impossible to drive a ball like that far.
"Third pitch," Chris called.
Kanzaki smiled faintly at the signal, then threw again.
Azuma swung—late.
Snap!
Chris caught the ball squarely in front of his chest.
Another inside pitch.
Azuma's eyes widened. He'd adjusted for an outside pitch this time, thinking they wouldn't risk going inside twice in a row.
He'd overthought it.
"You're thinking too much, Senior," Chris said, standing up with a small grin. "That's not like you."
Azuma rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He wasn't the type to think while batting—and he knew it.
"Good pitching," he said, trying to recover.
"Thank you, Senior," Kanzaki replied politely.
After Azuma and Nanjo left, Kanzaki and Chris continued practicing for another twenty pitches.
That session wasn't just about velocity—it was mainly to test Kanzaki's new changeup.
If Miyuki had it, Chris had to see it too.
"Your pitching's already at a very high level," Chris said afterward. "At this point, further gains will come naturally as your body develops. Your speed and strength will rise with time."
"What about learning new pitches?" Kanzaki asked.
"You can learn them," Chris said, tossing the ball lightly, "but there's no need."
They continued throwing catch as they talked.
"Your current arsenal is already enough to dominate," Chris continued. "What you need most now are two things."
He raised a finger. "First—stamina. High school baseball is brutal. Games are long, schedules are packed, and the pressure never lets up. Building endurance and mental strength is key."
Then another finger. "Second—game experience. That only comes with time."
Kanzaki nodded firmly. "Understood. Thank you, Senior."
"Good. And make sure you rest properly too. Taking care of your body is part of training."
At that moment, Kanzaki froze.
Wait… didn't Chris get injured this year?
If his memory of Seidou's history was right, it happened around the Spring Metropolitan Tournament.
Chris had carried too much of the load that season.
He was their only true catcher—and that heavy responsibility led to overuse and injury… paving the way for Miyuki's rise.
"Senior Chris," Kanzaki said carefully, "I'm planning to get a physical check-up soon. Would you come with me? I don't know much about sports health."
"Physical exam?" Chris asked, slightly concerned. "Are you feeling unwell?"
"No," Kanzaki replied quickly. "I just want to understand my body better—to plan my training properly."
Chris's frown eased into a smile. "All right. I know a good sports rehab doctor. I'll take you there."
"Then I'll leave it to you, Senior."
When they returned to the dorms, Azuma still wasn't back—probably still hitting with Nanjo somewhere, quietly working through his frustration.
Strangely, from the next day onward, Kanzaki noticed a change.
Azuma's attitude toward him had softened, and even Nanjo would greet him with a smile.
Whatever they'd talked about that night, they'd clearly made peace with things.
In the following days, Seidou High's baseball team settled into its rhythm.
The second and third years focused on batting and fielding drills, while the freshmen endured pure physical hell—
grueling body conditioning, balance work, and coordination exercises.
For newcomers to high school baseball, that was the only way to catch up.
But on the second day, Coach Kataoka Tesshin made an announcement that shook everyone.
Both Kanzaki Ryou and Miyuki Kazuya were promoted directly to the second string.
No one—neither the seniors nor the freshmen—could complain.
In just forty-eight hours, the difference between those two and everyone else had already become glaringly obvious.
The freshmen had already given them a title:
Seidou's Twin Stars — the Genius Pitcher and the Genius Catcher.
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