Smack!
Smack!
Masuko was retired by Narumiya Mei in just two pitches.
It wasn't a strikeout, but the result was the same—another routine groundout.
Two at-bats, two outs.
The sixth batter, Miyuki Kazuya, didn't fare any better.
He was still too fixated on Narumiya Mei's changeup.
As he returned to the dugout, Ushijima immediately spoke up.
"So let me ask you something."
"If you don't hit Narumiya Mei's changeup, are you going to lose a piece of flesh or something?"
"Do we really need to challenge his changeup every single time?"
"Everyone knows you're waiting for it. Why would he throw it to you so easily?"
"Use your brain."
Miyuki froze.
For once, even he had no comeback.
Before Ushijima could continue, Shirasu returned as well.
"Whoa!"
Isashiki and the others nearly jumped.
"Shirasu, why are you back already?" Kuramochi asked.
"First pitch."
"Groundout."
Shirasu answered calmly.
The dugout instantly fell silent.
Ushijima could no longer hold back.
"What exactly are you guys doing?"
"In this entire inning, I'm the only one who got on base!"
"This is the finals, not batting practice!"
No one answered.
Coach Kataoka crossed his arms and remained silent.
Everything he wanted to say had already been said by Ushijima.
The ace continued.
"We're only leading by two runs!"
"Do you realize that?"
"For three months, I've been throwing batting practice for you guys."
"Thousands of pitches."
"If we estimate 180 balls a day, fifteen days a month, over three months..."
"That's over eight thousand pitches."
"I practically wore my arm out helping you prepare."
"And what do I get?"
"The second, fifth, sixth, and seventh batters still don't have a single hit."
The entire dugout lowered their heads.
"The third and fourth batters helped score in the first inning, so that's fine."
"But the rest of you?"
"What are you doing?"
"Still asleep?"
"Planning to wake up after we get to Koshien?"
Not a single person could argue.
Even Yuki Tetsuya, who had struck out earlier, remained silent.
After all, Ushijima had reached base in both of his plate appearances.
Neither hit had been spectacular.
But results were results.
He got on base.
They didn't.
Ushijima folded his arms.
"I'm out there on the mound shutting down Inashiro."
"The least you could do is score another run or two."
"You're about to graduate."
"Can't you make things easier for me?"
"If I have to keep worrying like this, how am I supposed to survive the next two years?"
The seniors looked utterly defeated.
Then Ushijima delivered the finishing blow.
"The coach doesn't even need to lecture anyone anymore."
"Every time, I end up doing it for him."
"You don't act like seniors."
"You don't act like leaders."
"If I have to handle everything myself..."
"Then what exactly do I need you guys for?"
The dugout went completely still.
Even Coach Kataoka's expression twitched slightly.
Several players puffed out their cheeks, desperately trying not to laugh.
"Get on the field."
"Defense."
Ushijima waved them away impatiently.
"Yes, sir!"
The entire team responded in unison and hurried out of the dugout.
Everyone secretly swore that once the tournament was over, they were going to teach this brat a lesson.
Yet none of them realized something important.
Ushijima's rant had completely erased the frustration from their failed at-bats.
The disappointment that had been weighing on the team was gone.
Their morale had recovered without them even noticing.
End of the Top of the Fourth
Seido: 2 • 0 • 0 • 0
Inashiro: 0 • 0 • 0
The bottom of the fourth inning began.
Inashiro's lineup entered its second trip through the order.
"Leading off, center fielder, Carlos!"
The stadium announcer's voice echoed throughout the ballpark.
Carlos stepped into the right-handed batter's box.
He loosened his shoulders, took a few practice swings, then rested the bat across his shoulder.
On the mound, Ushijima studied him carefully.
During Carlos's first at-bat, he had struck him out with three consecutive two-seamers.
A 150 km/h inside two-seamer.
A slower two-seamer on the hands.
Then another that ran even farther inside.
Three pitches.
Three strikes.
Carlos glanced toward the mound.
There's no way they're opening with another two-seamer, right?
Then he immediately rejected the thought.
No.
If it's Ushijima and Miyuki, they might do exactly that.
Behind the plate, Miyuki flashed the sign.
"Let's start mixing in more waste pitches."
Ushijima subtly tapped his arm in acknowledgment.
First pitch.
Shootball. Inside corner.
Ushijima raised his hands and delivered.
Whoosh!
The pitch exploded toward the plate.
Not quite 145 km/h, but still plenty fast.
Carlos's eyes sharpened.
He nearly committed to his swing.
Halfway through, he stopped himself.
Thwack!
The ball snapped into Miyuki's mitt.
"Strike!"
The umpire's call sent a chill down Carlos's spine.
That was close...
In the Seido stands, Chris let out a surprised breath.
"He almost swung."
"But he recognized it."
The scorekeeper adjusted his glasses.
"He's familiar with the movement."
"Nobody adapts to a pitch like that after seeing it once."
"He must have trained specifically against shootballs."
The others quickly understood.
If anyone would prepare that thoroughly, it would be Inashiro.
Uesugi frowned.
"So they're already getting used to Ushijima's shootball."
"Looks that way."
Nitta crossed his arms.
"Which creates a problem."
"The two-seamer struck him out last time."
"And Carlos nearly recognized the shootball just now."
"If those two pitches lose their effectiveness..."
"What does Miyuki use next?"
The question lingered in the air.
Everyone's eyes returned to the field.
Because the real battle between Carlos and Ushijima Wakatoshi was only beginning.