WHOOSH! SMACK!
The baseball twisted sharply at the last second, narrowly slipping past the bat before plunging straight into Miyuki's glove.
Carlos froze after missing once again, glaring angrily at Ushijima Wakatoshi.
"Two-seam…"
That single word escaped through gritted teeth.
"Damn brat… he actually stuffed two straight two-seamers into the inside corner…"
"And both pitches had nearly identical trajectories."
In the stands, Uesugi stared at the field in disbelief.
As a pitcher himself, he understood exactly how terrifying that sequence was.
The only real difference between the two pitches—
Was the velocity.
The first had been a blazing two-seam exceeding 150 km/h.
The second was a slower two-seam around the mid-140s.
That contrast alone completely disrupted the batter's timing.
"Yeah…" Nitta muttered.
"Miyuki still has the same aggressive game-calling style as always."
"But the important thing is…"
"He found a pitcher crazy enough to fully cooperate with him."
"One dares to call the pitches…"
"And the other dares to throw them."
"When those two work together, they're terrifying."
Uesugi had worked with Miyuki before.
So he understood better than anyone how bold Miyuki's pitch sequencing could be.
"One two-seam…"
"Two strikes."
Nitta couldn't help shaking his head.
"That freshman has insane guts."
On the mound, Ushijima bent forward slightly, his right arm hanging loosely at his side.
His eyes remained locked onto Carlos.
So…
What do you think the third pitch will be?
Carlos tightened his grip on the bat.
"Normally, after throwing two consecutive pitches like that, any other battery would change patterns."
"But this is Ushijima and Miyuki."
"If it's those two…"
"They'll absolutely throw another two-seam."
"You have to stay mentally prepared."
Behind the plate, Miyuki observed Carlos carefully before finally giving the next sign.
Low outside corner.
The moment Ushijima saw the sign, he raised both hands and began his motion.
His left foot stepped forward.
His body rotated violently.
His arm whipped downward.
WHOOSH!!!
The baseball exploded toward the outside corner at terrifying speed.
"Outside?!"
Carlos was caught off guard.
The two inside pitches had completely dragged his focus inward.
He had momentarily forgotten—
Ushijima excelled at attacking both the inside and outside corners interchangeably.
Now the sudden outside pitch disrupted his balance completely.
SWING!
Even in panic, Carlos still forced his bat through the zone.
But the instant he swung—
His eyes widened again.
The fastball aimed low and outside suddenly shifted slightly back toward the middle.
That tiny movement completely destroyed Carlos's swing path.
SMACK!!!
The baseball slipped past the bat and buried itself into Miyuki's glove.
"Strike three! Batter out!"
The umpire's call exploded across the stadium.
"OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!"
The crowd erupted instantly.
"The first strikeout!"
"What a pitch, Ushijima!!!"
Half of Jingu Stadium stood up cheering wildly.
All because Ushijima had just obliterated Inashiro's lead-off batter with only three pitches.
And every single one had been a variation of the two-seam.
"They really dared to do it…"
Azuma Kiyokuni stared at the field in shock.
"Three straight two-seamers in the finals?"
"Do those two not feel pressure at all?!"
Uesugi clenched his fist tightly.
That kind of confidence…
That kind of aggression…
If only I had pitched like that last year…
Maybe there wouldn't have been any regrets.
On the field, Carlos reluctantly removed his helmet while staring bitterly at Ushijima on the mound.
In the end, he had been completely overwhelmed.
Three pitches.
One strikeout.
The next batter slowly approached the plate.
Second batter—
Shortstop, Shirakawa.
"How was it?" Shirakawa quietly asked while passing Carlos.
Carlos clicked his tongue.
"Go experience it yourself."
"The pitches are sharp, heavy, and suffocating."
"And honestly…"
"They piss me off."
Shirakawa calmly stepped into the batter's box.
On the mound, Ushijima quietly studied him.
Their offensive tactics are excellent.
Which means their hitters rely heavily on strategy and coordination.
Pure batting strength alone isn't enough.
Ushijima exchanged a glance with Miyuki.
The two silently confirmed the next pitch sequence.
Then Ushijima nodded.
He set himself—
Raised both hands—
And delivered the first pitch to Shirakawa.
The instant the baseball left his fingertips—
Shirakawa's eyes widened sharply.
A red fastball?!
Seeing the pitch trajectory, Shirakawa was immediately tempted.
No…
There's no way this guy throws a normal center fastball.
There must be movement.
Two-seam?
After all, Carlos had just been destroyed by three consecutive two-seamers.
WHOOSH!
Shirakawa swung decisively after accurately predicting the contact point.
But just before reaching the plate—
The baseball suddenly sliced away toward the outside corner.
Shirakawa's eyes widened beneath his bangs.
SMACK!
The ball slipped under his bat and into Miyuki's glove.
"Strike!"
The umpire's voice rang out immediately.
"Cutter?!"
Shirakawa gritted his teeth in frustration.
So this is Ushijima's cutter?!
Although he had practiced against cutters countless times before—
This one was completely different.
The sharpness.
The speed.
The late movement.
Nothing about it felt normal.
Meanwhile, Ushijima casually stretched his neck while looking toward Shirakawa.
Inside Inashiro's dugout, everyone watched the duel nervously.
"What the hell is Shirakawa doing?!"
Narumiya Mei complained loudly from the bench.
"We've practiced against cutters so many times already! Why can't he hit it?!"
Shirakawa almost wanted to snap back:
Then you come do it yourself.
But he knew Narumiya would probably respond with:
"Fine. Move aside and let me hit."
"Carlos already got struck out without even touching the ball!"
"Don't tell me you're going down the same way!"
Inside the batter's box, Shirakawa thought irritably:
You're so noisy.
Still, his eyes never left Ushijima on the mound.
Will the next pitch be another cutter?
Given Ushijima's aggressive personality…
The second pitch is probably another cutter.
That judgment wasn't random.
After watching so many Seido games, Shirakawa understood something clearly:
Ushijima and Miyuki loved overwhelming hitters head-on.
So—
Shirakawa deliberately stepped slightly closer toward home plate.
It was an obvious challenge.
Next pitch—
Throw me another cutter.