Chapter 313: Internal Matchup
"Chris-senpai!" Miyuki stared at Chris-senpai, looking somewhat helpless.
His thoughts had been completely seen through by Chris-senpai… or rather, by that pitcher-catcher duo.
Miyuki knew very well that even if he aimed correctly, he still wouldn't hit the ball — his fundamental problem was that his bat speed simply wasn't fast enough.
150 km/h was still too fast. 0.4 seconds was such a short amount of time that most people had no concept of it.
To put it into perspective, the fastest a human can blink still takes 0.3 seconds — that alone tells you just how fast that pitch really was.
In that tiny sliver of time, you had to react, identify the pitch, and swing. At the high school level, that was practically an impossible exam question.
The outcome of the first round was exactly that — none of the remaining batters managed to make contact with the ball.
Even Haruichi, after Chris-senpai and Sendo saw through the pitch he was aiming for, was completely helpless.
The spectators standing on the sidelines didn't even know what to say anymore!
In the first round of the lineup, only two people had made contact with the ball: aside from Tetsu, Isashiki had been the only one — and that was mainly because the pitch had been intentionally thrown for him to hit.
Although Isashiki was rough on the outside yet surprisingly meticulous, when it came to strategy, he was lacking — especially when facing Chris-senpai and Sendo at the same time.
In his previous life, Narumiya's max velocity of 147 km/h allowed seniors like Onii-san and Isashiki to barely make contact, using borderline pitches to drag out the at-bat.
But Sendo's pitches were exactly like Coach Kunitomo said — the batters' normal swing speed was simply too slow to even touch the ball.
Sawamura was in a state of shock, while Furuya's small eyes were shining in admiration — his awe was practically overflowing.
Sendo's pitching made him witness something, though he didn't know what it was.
With the first round over, Kuramochi and Shirasu could only wait until tomorrow to finally face Sendo.
Don't think this one-sided slaughter had no meaning. Coach Kataoka would never do something pointless.
The players of Seidou weren't the type to lose confidence so easily. Getting used to elite-level fastballs would only elevate them.
It was like how Akikawa used 160 km/h heaters to train batters' eyes to track high-speed pitches.
A top-tier fastball carried its own kind of deception. For someone not accustomed to that speed, facing 160 km/h meant not even having the chance to swing—by the time their eyes registered the ball, it was already in the catcher's mitt.
Facing power pitchers improved their dynamic vision. Once their eyes experienced that level of velocity, anything slower became incredibly clear, no longer causing that brief paralysis at the plate.
Hitters also became aware of just how important the basics were—specifically, bat speed.
The faster your bat speed, the more time you had to actually observe the ball.
The best hitters in the world likely swung at least 0.1 seconds faster than Tetsu.
That's why a 150 km/h pitch struggled to survive in the Majors—0.1 seconds of difference was enough to stop hitters from distinguishing pitch types or judging the strike zone.
When Tetsu faced Yang Shunshin's sub–140 km/h fastball, he practically obliterated him. Did breaking balls matter? Did nine-zone control matter? Barely at all.
Because with that extra 0.1 second of observation time, the difference between suppressing the opponent and blowing him up was enormous.
Realistically, Tetsu belonged in the same tier as pitchers like Narumiya—those sitting between 140 and 150 km/h.
And in his previous life, just because Tetsu allowed one hit didn't mean he "lost." A hitter batting .400 meant the hitter was superior. A single extra-base hit only meant they were equals—or the batter was slightly ahead.
Onii-san struck out again on three pitches. This was probably the most suffocating matchup of his life.
His swing speed simply couldn't keep up. Even if he forced himself to start early, facing this level of precision on both corners, his technique meant nothing—he had no answer.
This was something Coach Kataoka hadn't expected. He'd never stood in the batter's box against Sendo and had underestimated just how fast Sendo's pitches came in.
But Tetsu's presence only grew stronger. Only by facing elite pitchers could he discover his shortcomings—and improve directly.
As the saying went, play chess with a novice and you get worse; face a master—even one you cannot possibly defeat—and you grow with every match, progressing rapidly as if glimpsing an unknown world, your thoughts elevated.
Tetsu now understood his next tasks: increase his bat speed and, like the others, adapt to Sendo's high-velocity fastballs to improve his instinctive reaction speed.
A person's reaction time had limited potential for improvement—almost impossible to train after a point. But those who never trained it had never once reached their true limit.
Sendo, however, had been given a custom-made training plan by a foreign master—someone who ran a specialized training facility—thanks to Coach Nakanishi. His reaction speed had already reached his physical peak and was being maintained.
The only thing holding him back in games was attention. In contrast, Tetsu—with his simple-minded focus—could concentrate fully with very little effort. Whatever potential he had, he could unleash.
Goals were goals, matchups were matchups. Sendo and Chris-senpai weren't giving anyone freebies.
For his second at-bat, Isashiki tried to chop at a high outside pitch again—completely whiffed and left the box red-faced.
Then came Tetsu's second at-bat.
Everyone anticipated a fierce showdown.
THUNK!
"Strike!"
"Batter out!"
Reality was cruel. First came a fastball inside. Then another fastball outside. The third pitch was the first breaking ball of the day—back inside.
Tetsu had begun swinging earlier and barely caught up to the fastball timings through pure technique. But against the rapid splitter, he swung through helplessly.
"Strike!" Chris-senpai said, tossing the ball back while praising Sendo for the second strikeout.
"Chris-senpai praised Sendo!" Sawamura whispered excitedly from the side, his eyes taking on a feline gleam.
There would be more chances later, so minimizing Tetsu's pitch count was important.
Whether Sendo himself simply wanted to end early and clock out was another matter entirely.
With the biggest threat solved, the rest of the lineup could only watch themselves fall one after another.
Sendo even slowed his velocity on purpose at times, using pitch weight and awkward locations to induce pop-ups and ground balls for Coach Kataoka to call outs on.
Haruichi's second and final at-bat came. He assumed Sendo wouldn't throw him any breaking balls and relied on his feel to lock onto the fastball.
His bat shattered instantly. The sheer force behind the pitch caused the ball to die right in front of the plate—well within the distance Chris-senpai could cover by taking a single step.
It was then Haruichi started wondering if his wooden bats would survive the next few days…
Chris's pitch-calling was extremely clear. From the second rotation onward, he only used breaking pitches on Miyuki and Tetsu.
The first day ended with no hits allowed. Both Tetsu and Miyuki swallowed three strikeouts.
The others managed to make contact here and there, clearly targeted—clearly applying lessons learned during the final two days prior—
Naturally, this infuriated Isashiki-senpai, even though he understood it was solely to enhance his training.
Meanwhile, Tetsu's internal furnace showed no signs of shutting off.
For his third at-bat, Sendo tested him with a changeup.
At first glance, Sendo's changeup looked quite hittable—if you ignored the nearly 40 km/h difference from his fastball.
Tetsu's third strikeout came from that changeup.
A 40 km/h gap was a nightmare. His bat had completed its swing before the pitch even reached the plate.
150 km/h versus 110 km/h meant a difference of 0.2 seconds.
Even swinging early—using 0.2 to 0.3 seconds to react and swing—meant trying to hit a pitch intended to cross the plate at 0.4 seconds, except it only arrived at 0.6 seconds. There was no way.
And all of that came after enduring inside-outside disruption.
Tetsu's decisiveness saved him. As Kataoka mentioned before the Inashiro game, a batter who hesitated wouldn't even start their swing before the ball reached the plate.
For high school players, at that velocity, the moment the brain even considered the possibility of a breaking ball, the bat simply wouldn't move.
It was like Amahisa from Ichidaisan, who annihilated Yakushi in the summer of his third year—150 km/h max, average around 145, subtly shifting up and down, plus a psychotic slider—once he locked in, he tortured Yakushi beyond belief.
Right now, Sendo was a strengthened version of that Amahisa. His fastball's average velocity was at least 5 km/h faster, his splitter was even more monstrous, and he still had that 40 km/h gap changeup.
On the first day, Sendo used only 46 pitches to clear nineteen batters—an effortless performance that would enrage anyone.
Afterward, he was freed to hit in batting practice.
This was precisely Coach Kataoka's plan—complete the internal battles without any OBs around to interfere.
Time passed quickly, and the training quota for the fifth was completed.
Only the sixth remained before heading to the hotel and waiting for Koshien's opening on the seventh.
Four days. No hits allowed.
And judging from the fifth day, the streak wasn't ending.
The strongest batter—Tetsu—also had the most miserable results, racking up ten strikeouts.
But his improvement was also the most obvious. You couldn't quantify it by reaction time or bat speed alone, nor did he jump a full tier—yet the overall upgrade was visible to the naked eye.
The least improved was Miyuki, the second most heavily targeted. Lately, he just wasn't passionate about hitting. His mind understood its importance, but his body refused to cooperate.
He'd probably only start trying after the seniors graduated.
The next least improved was Kuramochi—the greedy troublemaker. He wanted everything at once—switch hitting, baserunning, defense—of course it stalled his progress.
Everyone else made similar gains. With their skills already mature, improving in just a few days was already impressive.
"What were you talking about earlier, Haruichi? I heard Ryou-san say you were getting cocky!" Sendo asked as he walked over for a post-lunch stroll, noticing Haruichi, Onii-san, and Kuramochi chatting.
"Oh! I was looking for the stopwatch earlier, and Onii-chan told me Kuramochi-senpai had it."
"Mhm, mhm! And then?"
"Then Kuramochi-senpai started playing a game—trying to stop it exactly at five seconds."
"A timing game? That takes strong time-sense."
"Yeah, but Kuramochi-senpai couldn't do it, so Onii-chan snatched it from him."
"With Ryou-san, it should be easy, right? His batting is so precise."
"Nope! He claimed the stopwatch was broken!"
"Haha! Sounds exactly like Ryou-san. And then?"
"Then I got curious…"
"No way! You tried it too? And you nailed it, and Ryou-san caught you? I miss one stroll and I miss out on all the fun!"
"Sendo-kun…"
"All right, hand me the stopwatch."
Haruchi was speechless at Sendo's sudden shift in tone.
But he handed it over anyway. Sendo glanced around subtly—checking for ambushes, especially from Onii-chan, who was definitely in a bad mood—
Then started.
"Mhm. 5.03."
"Yep. Five seconds."
"Wow, amazing! Sendo-kun!"
"What's amazing about that? Didn't you get it in two tries?"
Haruichi realized too soon that the real show hadn't even started. Sendo pressed the button five more times—each perfectly timed.
"Here." With his streak completed, Sendo instantly lost interest.
"Sendo-kun, are you heading out?"
"Yeah. I'm free for the rest of the day."
"I promised Harada-san we'd meet. He's been wanting to see me, acting like we're going on a date or something."
"Tomorrow we leave. We'll finally see the Koshien the seniors always dreamed about."
"So today might be his last chance before he graduates."
"Oh—then travel safely!"
"See you."
Sendo didn't know that Kuramochi got bullied to death in the afternoon.
Ryousuke had just recovered and needed to rebuild strength—combined with their earlier argument—Kuramochi got destroyed in training.
This week wasn't just about hitting improvement. Onii-san returned from injury, but the biggest joy was Tanba's complete revival.
His fighting spirit was blazing, and the occasional hittable pitches had vanished. He was now undoubtedly Seidou's ace.
The era of relying on two freshmen pitchers was ending.
Even Sawamura, after Chris-senpai's personal instruction, could only sometimes hit the outside corner.
With four pitchers ready, Seidou had no stamina issues for Koshien's relentless schedule—nor any risk of burning out.
Having earned their ticket to Koshien, their goal was naturally the top.
How the team—especially the pitching staff—grew over the tournament would determine how far they could go that summer.
Sendo, unexpectedly, found his own swing becoming smoother lately.
In short—Seidou was fully prepared for Koshien in every way.
All that remained was the favor of the Goddess of Fate.
Whatever happened, they wanted to leave the stadium with smiles again.
And to smile, they at least had to reach the quarterfinals.
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