The next day—
Seidou High School, Field A.
Summer vacation had already begun. Aside from club activities, the campus was nearly empty.
The baseball field, however—
Was alive with tension.
"Yo, everyone's here?"
Ushijima Wakatoshi walked onto the field, glancing at the First String seniors.
"What's up?" Isashiki asked, arms crossed, his tone as rough as ever.
Ushijima stretched his shoulders casually.
"Let's run a red-and-white game."
"…What?!"
The entire group froze.
"Hey—what's wrong with you?" Isashiki snapped. "Did you hit your head or something?"
Even Miyuki Kazuya frowned.
"And not just any game—you want a First String vs First String scrimmage?"
Ushijima didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
Kominato Haruichi awkwardly scratched his cheek and explained what happened yesterday.
As the story unfolded—
Silence.
Then—
"What the hell?!" Isashiki exploded.
"You're kidding me, right?!"
His voice echoed across the field.
"If I were there yesterday, those two wouldn't be walking today!"
"They really said that?" Isashiki glared.
"That Seidou's nothing?"
"They said only Narumiya Mei is worth facing?!"
His anger boiled over.
"Do they even know what kind of pitchers we have?!"
"Our Ushijima threw a Complete Game, can Narumiya do that?!"
"If Akikawa's 'third-rate,' then why hasn't he done it himself?!"
Even the usually calm
Kominato Ryosuke
let out a cold laugh.
"So… what did you do?"
Haruichi hesitated.
"…Ushijima handled it."
After hearing the full story—
The team's mood shifted.
Now they understood.
Ushijima stepped forward.
"This scrimmage—First String vs First String."
"I'll lead the substitute-side seniors."
"We're your opponents today."
The field went quiet.
"Today's focus is simple," Ushijima continued.
"Fastballs. Cutters. Shootballs."
"I studied Sanada Shunpei."
"Those are his core weapons."
"He throws over 140 km/h, and his cutter and shootball are his lifeline."
He picked up a ball, spinning it lightly in his fingers.
"I can replicate those pitches."
"Maybe not perfectly—but close enough."
"Today, I'll help you get used to them."
Kuramochi grinned.
"Heh… having a pitcher like you on our team is ridiculous."
Kominato Ryosuke adjusted his bat.
"Good. Then tomorrow…"
"…we crush Yakushi."
Ushijima nodded.
"Their batting lineup is my responsibility."
"And Miyuki's game-calling."
"This scrimmage—"
"…is serious."
At that moment—
Coach Kataoka stepped onto the field.
"In that case, I'll act as umpire."
He turned his gaze.
"Miyauchi—you'll catch Ushijima."
"Miyuki, you bat seventh. You need to experience these pitches as well."
"Even if you've seen them in practice—this is different."
"Got it!" Miyauchi smacked his mitt confidently.
He had worked with Ushijima before.
And out of all pitchers—
Ushijima was the easiest to sync with.
"Begin!"
Coach Kataoka gave the signal.
Kuramochi Yoichi stepped into the batter's box first.
Bat ready.
Eyes sharp.
On the mound—
Ushijima kicked the dirt lightly.
Then looked toward Miyauchi.
The sign came.
First pitch.
A cutter.
"Whoosh—!"
The ball sliced forward—
Then sharply broke toward the inside corner.
Kuramochi reacted instantly.
"Clang!"
But—
The contact was off.
The ball bounced weakly into the infield.
"…Damn!"
Kuramochi sprinted to first—
But Ushijima was faster.
He fielded the ball cleanly and threw.
"Out!"
"They're going all out from the very first pitch…"
Kuramochi clicked his tongue, rubbing his eye.
Even making contact—
The pitch had jammed him badly.
"His cutter got sharper…"
"Yeah… his control's improving."
"And that break—"
"It's nastier than before."
Next—
Kominato Ryosuke stepped in.
Miyauchi gave the signal.
Inside fastball.
"WHOOSH!"
The pitch exploded toward the chest-high inside corner.
Ryosuke swung—
But missed.
"…That inside pitch…"
"Way heavier than before."
"Yakushi's ace specializes in that, right?"
"…Yeah. But compared to Ushijima—"
"…it's a different level."
Next pitch—
Shootball.
"Clang!"
Ryosuke made contact—
But sent it foul.
"…Still can't keep up…"
He clicked his tongue.
Even after facing Ushijima countless times—
The pressure was different now.
Sharper.
More precise.
More aggressive.
On the mound—
Ushijima exhaled slowly.
His eyes—
Locked in.
This wasn't practice anymore.
This was preparation for war.