Five consecutive pitches—good or bad.
Fastballs or curveballs—it didn't matter. Ushijima Wakatoshi swung at every single one.
Five hits in a row.
All of them fouls.
Five foul balls. The count now stood at two strikes and no balls.
Even fouls counted as strikes—until two strikes were reached.
"Damn it… this guy's batting approach is completely different this time."
Akikawa's catcher was thrown into complete confusion. His usual game-calling rhythm had collapsed—he no longer knew what kind of pitch to call.
On the mound, You Shunshin began to feel the pressure.
The sixth pitch came.
A curveball.
Ushijima didn't swing.
"Whoosh! Snap!"
"Ball!"
Two strikes, one ball.
The tension in the stadium rose sharply. Every pitch felt like a battle.
On the seventh pitch, You Shunshin threw the same curveball again—almost identical in trajectory.
Ushijima had no choice but to swing.
He knew the umpire favored that borderline pitch. If he let it pass, it would likely be called a strike.
He'd be out.
Both pitcher and batter were under immense pressure.
But after giving up runs earlier, You Shunshin had changed. He was pitching more aggressively—freer, sharper.
Pitchers often became more dangerous once they let go of hesitation.
"Clang!"
Ushijima leaned forward slightly, adjusting his stance to reach the outside curveball.
The moment he made contact, he dropped the bat and exploded toward first base.
The hit wasn't clean—just a weakly connected ball, barely rolling past the infield.
But Ushijima was already sprinting at full speed.
"So fast!"
The crowd gasped.
The shortstop reacted quickly, charging forward, scooping the ball, and throwing to first.
But by the time he released it—
Ushijima was already halfway down the line.
Almost simultaneously, his foot hit the base as the ball landed in the first baseman's glove.
"Safe!"
The umpire spread his arms wide.
The stadium erupted.
"No way—that kind of hit still made it on base?"
"That speed is insane!"
"It feels even faster than Seidou's Kuramochi!"
The murmurs spread like wildfire, putting pressure on players from every team watching.
Standing on first, Ushijima glanced at the mound.
"…So he's improved his control, huh?"
Then his lips curled slightly.
"Since I'm already on base… I might as well stir things up."
He edged a full meter off the bag.
You Shunshin noticed—but didn't react.
He knew trying to hold him back would be pointless.
Masuko Toru, the seventh batter, stepped into the box. He and Ushijima exchanged a brief glance.
First pitch.
But the moment You Shunshin lifted his leg—
Ushijima ran.
"He's stealing!"
The first baseman shouted.
The catcher received the pitch and sprang up to throw—
—but Ushijima had already reached second base.
Too late.
Ushijima stood firmly on second, calm and composed.
"…This guy…" You Shunshin's expression darkened.
So far, he had suppressed every batter—
Except this one.
The only player he couldn't control.
As You Shunshin prepared for the next pitch—
Ushijima moved again.
Without hesitation.
"He's stealing again!"
The shortstop yelled in shock.
"What?!"
You Shunshin couldn't stop his motion.
"Whoosh! Snap!"
The ball hit the catcher's glove. He immediately fired it to third—
—but Ushijima was already sliding in.
Safe again.
The crowd exploded into cheers.
Players from Inashiro and Ichidai Third High watched with grim expressions.
This wasn't just power.
This was dominance.
Pitching. Batting. Base running.
Ushijima Wakatoshi excelled at all of it.
Now standing on third, Ushijima casually glanced back at the mound.
Pressure mounted on You Shunshin.
The plan was obvious now—any contact could bring him home.
"Smack!"
You Shunshin caught the return throw and turned, walking back toward the mound, already thinking about his next pitch.
And in that exact moment—
Ushijima ran.
Straight for home.
"He's stealing home!!!"
The third baseman shouted in panic.
"What?!"
You Shunshin spun around—
—but Ushijima was already halfway there.
The entire stadium froze in disbelief.
Masuko stood in the left batter's box—directly in Ushijima's path.
There was no clear lane.
Everyone in Seidou's dugout stood up at once.
"Masuko-senpai—move left!"
Hearing the shout, Masuko instinctively jumped aside.
At the same moment—
Ushijima lunged forward.
His body stretched out, diving toward the plate.
His hand brushed against Masuko's leg mid-air—
—but it didn't slow him down.
"Bang!"
His left hand slammed onto home plate.
"Snap!"
The catcher finally received the throw—
—but it was too late.
"Safe!"
The umpire's call rang out.
Ushijima pushed himself up, clenching his fist.
"UOOOOHHH!!"
His roar ignited the entire stadium.