"Is Ushijima's pitch really that hard to hit?" Yuki Masashi asked his older brother.
Tetsuya didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked calmly:
"Have you ever faced a fastball traveling at 155 km/h?"
"What?!" Masashi's eyes widened in shock.
"155?! That's insanely fast!" their uncle exclaimed. As the father of two baseball players, he understood exactly what that number meant.
Ushijima waved his hand lightly.
"At that speed, control isn't always stable. It's not as exaggerated as he makes it sound."
"But you did hit 155," Tetsuya replied flatly.
Ushijima merely smiled.
In truth, he wanted to say: If I'm in peak condition, I could probably touch 170.
But there was no need to say something like that.
"Besides the four-seam," Tetsuya continued, "he also throws a two-seam and a cutter in the 140–145 km/h range."
Masashi stiffened.
"If you were a batter," Tetsuya asked, "what would you think about three different fastballs all coming at you around 145?"
Masashi stared at his cousin in disbelief.
That would be a nightmare.
The cutter was sometimes called the "bat destroyer." With wooden bats, even a slight shift in contact point could jam the hitter and snap the bat near the grip. It wasn't just hard to hit far it could break your weapon entirely.
The two-seam sacrificed a bit of speed for movement, creating late tailing action that disrupted timing.
Now combine that with a high-velocity four-seam.
Three pitches. Same arm motion. Same release point.
If the pitcher maintained identical mechanics, the batter wouldn't know which variation it was until the ball was almost at the plate.
At that point, hitting became gambling.
Unless you were an elite batter capable of adjusting mid-swing and forcing the ball into play through sheer strength and instinct.
And even then—
Luck played a role.
"…It's tough," Masashi muttered reluctantly. "I don't want to admit it, but it's tough."
"Besides, I can't beat him right now."
As soon as he said that, Masashi suddenly exploded with competitive energy, clenching his fists dramatically.
The family sighed. There he went again.
And then he glared fiercely at Ushijima.
Ushijima didn't tolerate that for long. He flicked Masashi lightly on the forehead.
"Why are you staring at me? Can't you tell the difference between the king and the challenger?"
"I'm sorry," Masashi said obediently though the fire in his eyes hadn't dimmed.
I want to fight him.
His gaze made that clear.
Ushijima could only sigh.
"If you choose Seido," Tetsuya added casually, "you'll get to face his pitching more often."
"During team training, starters get three rounds of batting practice."
"It used to be ten four-seams, ten cutters, and ten two-seams."
"Now the ten four-seams have been replaced with ten sinkers."
"What?!" Masashi shot to his feet. "He throws a sinker too?!"
"Yeah. He's been focusing on improving its control recently."
"Once it's stable, the sinker will also sit at 140+."
Masashi's breathing grew heavier.
"That means…" he muttered.
"Four-seam. Two-seam. Cutter. Sinker," Tetsuya listed calmly.
"All above 140 km/h."
"And if you divide the strike zone into a nine-square grid…"
Masashi immediately understood.
"Middle lanes—4, 5, 6. Lower lanes—7, 8, 9."
"That's six possible trajectories."
"And with four pitch types…"
He trailed off.
A batter would need to guess both pitch type and course.
Four types × six locations.
That was chaos.
Masashi puffed his cheeks out in frustration.
"That's cheating," he said angrily.
Ushijima only shrugged.
What he didn't say was—
Actually, I can throw seven.
Besides the four-seam, two-seam, cutter, and sinker…
There was also the shootball, curveball, and screwball.
He had studied nearly every major pitch type.
Not all of them were perfect yet—but they would be.
Given time, even the unfinished ones would sharpen into elite weapons.
"I'm going to Seido next year."
Masashi's voice was firm this time.
Tetsuya smiled. "You've decided?"
"Yeah. I want to hit his pitches."
"If I can hit what he throws, I can hit anyone."
"And training with him is better than using a pitching machine."
Ushijima, who had been calmly eating fruit, almost choked.
"So I'm your pitching machine now?"
"Hehe~" Masashi nodded shamelessly.
Just then, their aunt spoke.
"Yuki, go check if Minami is out of school yet. Ask her to come over for dinner."
"Minami?" Ushijima froze slightly.
"…Asakura Minami?"
The room went quiet.
"Asakura Minami? Who's that?" Tetsuya asked.
"Is that your girlfriend?" his uncle added mischievously.
"N-no! It's just a name I've heard before!" Ushijima waved awkwardly.
"Are you talking about Konan?" he added quickly.
"No," Tetsuya explained patiently. "Minami is our neighbor. We grew up together."
Ushijima blinked.
Two brothers.
A childhood friend named Minami.
Why did that sound so familiar?
Baseball heroes. Childhood friend trope.
But the Uesugi brothers were twins.
The Yuki brothers were three years apart.
Still…
If there really was a Meisei Academy somewhere in Tokyo…
And if there really was someone like Uesugi Tatsuya—
A high schooler who could throw 150 km/h four-seams—
Ushijima's lips curved slightly.
Then that would be interesting.
Very interesting.