Chapter 315: The First Showdown
"Don't underestimate me."
Strictly speaking, Harada wasn't angry. He just felt the gap between Sendo's normal personality and his duel mode was enormous. He took it like listening to a younger brother bragging.
If he got mad over something like this, with that tsundere white-haired kid at home he'd be dead from anger already.
And as the eldest son, Harada was used to looking after people — gentle by nature.
The white-haired one was the baby of the family, with two older sisters who pampered him like royalty since birth. Hard not to end up spoiled.
Sendo was willful too, but being an only child for two lifetimes limited how far that could go. Even if adults pampered an only child, it couldn't compare to how siblings — especially Narumiya's sisters — cared for him with full-coverage, no-blind-spot affection. (Unfair, really.)
"Idiot. Who's underestimating who?"
Sendo replied coldly.
Once he entered duel mode, the contrast was absurd.
Harada blinked, then finally understood what he meant.
Sendo knew Harada inside-out — habits, personality, abilities, tendencies — everything.
But Harada knew nothing about Sendo's pitching.
Gathering intel alone would cost him at least one or two at-bats. Realistically, he'd only get one true at-bat to fight back.
Even three at-bats might not be enough to fully analyze him — Sendo was not the type to kindly hand over information.
Thinking about the four days he made Miyuki's squad take ten strikeouts, three at-bats actually sounded humble.
Harada flinched at his own realization.
Your strongest rival and the one who thinks about you most are often the same person — Harada just happened to be both.
Sendo's intentions were unreadable, but his talent was genuine.
Back after that practice game — at the Wild Cats — Coach Nakanishi had said Sendo's ability was immeasurable.
If nothing interrupted his growth, even the majors' Hall of Fame was within reach — as a hitter, baserunner, or pitcher. Any one of those.
Nakanishi's eye for talent was world-famous. Harada never doubted him.
Which was why a few days ago he said, If I had known Sendo would go to Seidou, I would've waited there for him.
So Harada cranked the danger level of Sendo's pitching to max.
"Let's just call what he said 'being modest.'" Harada told himself.
"Sorry. I take back what I said."
He spoke seriously.
Seeing that, Sendo smiled — Harada finally understood.
Otherwise this would be too boring, Sendo thought.
"Then, let's begin."
"Bring it."
Harada raised his focus instantly.
"Harada-san, if you were a wild type like Miyuki, I wouldn't dare claim I'd deny you contact for three at-bats. Not because I can't — but because it'd be risky. If you say something, you should be able to do it."
His arrogant words were actually unbelievably cautious. Sendo never bragged without certainty. If he wasn't sure, he'd state the odds honestly — that was his nature.
He'd never been conceited. Even with this lifetime's ridiculous talent, he stayed steady and meticulous.
"Since you'll be observing the first pitch, I'll happily take the strike."
He lifted both arms overhead. Side-arm throwers weren't forbidden from doing so — pitching violations depended on feet, not hands.
Furuya's high-arm throw had the big backward swing that made it unusable with runners on base. Sendo's didn't — his mechanics were clean, even deceptive, ideal for feints.
Seeing that, Harada's grip tightened.
Everyone already knew he was at a disadvantage — three at-bats without making contact would be humiliating.
"Recall it — magnify what he did six years ago!"
Harada forced his brain into overdrive before Sendo even lifted his leg.
Six years ago, Sendo's pitching felt overwhelmingly fast — with near-perfect control.
That memory alone was valuable intel.
Pff—
FWISH—
CLANG!
The ball speared past his chest and slammed into the backstop.
"Inside corner fastball. Nasty. Better control than before. Around 140, I'd say. But something's off…
Ah. He knows I'm reading him."
Harada analyzed calmly.
"Strike?" Sendo asked.
"Yeah. Strike one."
"If that wasn't full power… will the next one be?
No — if he wants to deny contact, he won't throw a risky pitch. He's coming for it."
He continued narrowing possibilities.
FWIP!
"Center?"
CLANG!
"Tch! Didn't touch it!"
That pitch had Narumiya's max speed — around 150.
"So he's still a monster. He threw center to hide information — at that speed if you hesitate, you don't even earn the right to swing."
Harada realized it wasn't that he chose not to swing —
he physically couldn't.
That was the terror of a true fastball.
"What's wrong? Don't hold back."
He's baiting me. Stay calm.
Harada's veins popped, but he didn't fall for it.
"Next pitch? Changeup possible? Even so, I can't hit it.
All I can do is bet everything on one pitch."
"Then I'll throw the pitch you're aiming for."
Sendo had already read him.
Humans leak subconscious signals unless trained not to — and Sendo was frighteningly perceptive.
His scattered attention in daily life was a double-edged sword — he absorbed stray details constantly, stored them, and his brain solved problems before his awareness caught up.
A freakish skill.
And in this duel he intended to crush Harada with sheer force first — seize morale, set the tone. If Harada had reacted fast enough to swing earlier, Sendo wouldn't have thrown into his aim; denying contact was the priority.
CLANG!
"Strike! Batter out!"
Calling the strike himself, Sendo ended the first at-bat — and his aura switched back to normal instantly.
"Total defeat."
"Next at-bat!"
"Now?"
Strangely, that favored Harada — familiarity with speed mattered. But it also favored Sendo for the same reason.
And Sendo wasn't Yang — he couldn't dissect the strike zone into one-ball increments with surgical precision. That kind of control was talent, not training.
"If you need a break, go ahead. Too vivid an impression of a fastball isn't ideal." Sendo said honestly.
It wasn't a real game; no need for dirty tricks.
"Let's do it now." Harada replied.
"So he will throw something else — probably breaking. And he knows I know. Is he holding back?
If he holds back and I still miss, that's even more humiliating… Tch. Cute guy, but kind of evil."
"Hey, Harada-san." Sendo called suddenly.
"Yeah?"
"Your plan today was to trick me into pitching so you could catch, right? The batting duel is just an impulse."
"Eh?"
Harada froze — because he was right.
"Bakemono…"
He meant it as praise — for intellect, not physical ability.
"Harada-san… you're cursing me in your head, aren't you?"
Harada twitched.
"Bakemono" could mean monster, genius, or non-human depending on tone. He had been praising him… but it still made him guilty.
"Knew it. No wonder you don't have a girlfriend." Sendo threw in mercilessly.
"H-hey! That's not—! I just… baseball comes first!"
Sendo didn't expect him to take that seriously.
With Harada's nature, if not for baseball, getting a girlfriend would be trivial — but Sendo absolutely refused to admit that out loud.
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