Tanba stood on the mound, eyes blazing with fighting spirit. He shot a sharp glare toward Kanzaki Ryou, then glanced at his catcher, Tanaka Wataru, who was signaling for a four-seam fastball.
To everyone's surprise—Tanba actually shook his head.
"What's Tanba doing?"
"He's got something in mind."
"Interesting…"
The upperclassmen exchanged intrigued looks. The normally quiet and stoic Tanba, who rarely voiced his thoughts, was now boldly rejecting his senior's call.
Behind the plate, Tanaka Wataru froze for a moment—not out of anger, but pride.
So, Koichiro… you've finally grown up.
If it weren't for the serious setting, Tanaka would've rushed over and hugged him. A real pitcher needed his own convictions.
After a brief pause, Tanaka flashed a new sign—Curveball.
Tanba nodded.
He raised both hands, lifted his left leg high, and snapped his arm forward like a whip. The baseball shot out of his hand—
Curveball!
The moment the ball left his fingers, Kanzaki Ryou read the spin.
He had prepared for a fastball and had already started his swing—there was no time to adjust. He could only try to halt his motion midway.
The white ball traced a perfect arc through the air, seeming to fly straight at his body before dropping sharply into the strike zone.
"Wow… that was close."
Kanzaki let out a breath. That was the danger of a good curveball—any batter without a solid mentality would flinch before the real battle even began.
"Nice ball!"
Tanaka stood up, tossed the ball back to the mound, and smiled. "Keep it up."
"I'll hit it this time," Kanzaki replied, resetting his stance.
The next pitch came flying—a blazing inside fastball, nearly 140 km/h. Kanzaki tracked it perfectly and swung.
Crack!
The ball shot down the first-base line but veered foul.
"Tch, jammed again. The angle was too tight," Kanzaki muttered, shaking his bat.
His dynamic vision was exceptional—something most of Seidou still hadn't realized. He had already seen through the pitch's path the moment it left Tanba's hand; his only mistake was speed. A slightly faster swing, and that would've been a long drive to the outfield.
What will he throw next? Kanzaki wondered.
So far—one curveball, one fastball. Both inside.
Would the next be a slider? Or another heater?
Kanzaki tightened his grip and stepped forward, moving closer to the plate.
The upperclassmen stared, astonished.
"After an inside curveball, he's stepping closer?"
"What if it's another inside pitch? Isn't he afraid of getting hit!?"
Tanaka Wataru frowned. Is he anticipating an outside pitch?
No—that stance wasn't just for coverage. Kanzaki was provoking Tanba. He was putting psychological pressure on the pitcher, forcing him to second-guess an inside throw.
Knowing Tanba's pride, Tanaka hesitated briefly… then smirked and set his glove inside.
You want a challenge, rookie? Fine—let's see if you can handle it.
The upperclassmen went silent.
Was Tanba really the type to take on a confrontation like this head-on?
On the mound, Tanba felt his pulse quicken. This wasn't a real game—it was just practice—but Kanzaki's stance lit a spark inside him.
This kid's testing me.
If he threw outside, Kanzaki would probably connect. But an inside pitch risked a hit-by-pitch.
It was a mental duel.
Feeling his pride stir, Tanba gritted his teeth. His right arm whipped forward.
Inside! Fastball!
Kanzaki instinctively leaned back and swung hard—
Bang!
A sharp crack echoed. The ball popped high into the infield sky.
"Infield fly!"
Kanzaki lowered his bat, watching the ball rise. "Tch. What a shame."
"Yeah, that one's caught for sure," Tanaka said as he stood up, smiling. "But not bad at all. It's your first time facing Tanba, and you read two of his pitches. You've got great batting sense."
"Thanks, senpai. But I kinda wanted to try that curveball again," Kanzaki said casually.
Tanaka chuckled. "You little brat—are you complaining that I didn't call it?"
After Kanzaki stepped off, Tanba, who had faced five batters, also left the mound, looking frustrated.
He had just been challenged head-on by a first-year—and lost the mental battle.
Dejected, Tanba went to the bullpen with second-year catcher Miyauchi Keisuke to cool his head.
Meanwhile, Miyuki Kazuya grinned and slung an arm around Kanzaki's shoulders.
"Hey, I didn't notice during the test, but why's your batting so fierce today?"
Kanzaki smirked. "Tests are just for show. All the pitches are fixed—you can't tell anything from that."
"True. But if I were the one calling pitches, no way I'd let you hit it!" Miyuki boasted, pointing at himself.
"Oh yeah?" Kanzaki said, pushing Miyuki's arm off his shoulder. "If it were you, what would your third pitch be?"
"Inside low curveball."
"Hah? You'd still throw an inside curveball with my stance?" Kanzaki grabbed him by the neck. "You just want to kill me, don't you!? You'd be happy if it hit me!"
"Cough—hey—let go! I can't breathe!" Miyuki gasped.
In the dugout, Coach Kataoka had been silent for a while, eyes fixed on Kanzaki's swing.
"Coach, what do you think of Kanzaki's batting?" Takashima Rei asked.
"His swing's decisive, though still a bit slow," Kataoka said. "But he tracked Tanba's straight ball twice. His pitch judgment is excellent."
"His style's like Kominato's—but with better athleticism," Rei noted, her eyes gleaming.
"What a gem," President Ota added, rubbing his hands together. "That kid might surprise us this tournament."
Their conversation reached Chris, who had been quietly taking notes nearby. The corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
When it came to batting, both he and Azuma Kiyokuni had secretly tutored Kanzaki back in the dorms.
Especially in reading pitchers and predicting catchers' signals—Chris had poured nearly everything he knew into Kanzaki Ryou.
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