"On the other hand, if I throw a Cutter to position 5…"
"Before it reaches home plate, it won't stay straight. It cuts slightly to my left—toward position 4."
"Especially recently, now that my Cutter control and proficiency have improved…"
"It doesn't just slide sideways anymore. It drops as well."
"It can even fall toward position 7."
As the catcher from yesterday's game, Miyauchi was the most qualified to confirm this.
He nodded.
"That's right. Your Cutter breaks late and dives low toward the inside corner. It's nasty."
Miyuki crossed his arms.
"…And what does that have to do with the Sinker?"
Ushijima didn't hesitate.
"Because the Sinker is the exact opposite of the Cutter."
He drew another arrow on the nine-square grid.
"For a right-handed pitcher like me—"
"Cutter moves left, toward positions 4 or 7."
"But a Sinker drifts the other way. It runs right and drops."
"In other words… if I aim for the center, position 5…"
"Before it reaches the plate, it sinks to position 9."
Silence.
Everyone stared at the grid.
Ushijima calmly summarized:
"Four-seam → stays at 5."
"Two-seam → runs to 6."
"Cutter → cuts to 4 or 7."
"Sinker → drops to 9."
"All of them are fastballs."
"They just have different tail movement."
He looked up.
"So that means… from one single release point…"
"My pitches can land in six different spots inside this nine-square grid."
He tapped the center.
"If I throw here—"
"Can you tell whether it's a Four-seam, Two-seam, Cutter, or Sinker?"
"…?"
No one answered.
Then—
Miyuki and Miyauchi's eyes widened.
Not just them.
Isashiki.
Yuki Tetsuya.
Kominato.
Everyone slowly swallowed.
Because they finally understood.
This wasn't just "many pitch types."
This was something far more terrifying.
To the batter, it would look like:
A straight fastball.
Right down the middle.
But at the last second—
It could break left.
Break right.
Drop.
Or stay straight.
Six possible landing points.
From the same trajectory.
From the same arm swing.
How were you supposed to hit that?
Even a 0.1-second hesitation was fatal against a 140+ km/h fastball.
Yuki exhaled.
"…That's impossible to win against."
Isashiki clicked his tongue.
"With that speed and six variations? That's pure gambling."
Kominato nodded.
"Even if you manage to touch the ball, the contact won't be clean. Most hits would die in the infield."
Exactly.
This wasn't just pitching.
This was psychological pressure.
Oppression.
Before the batter even stepped into the box.
Ushijima said simply,
"That's why I want to learn the Sinker."
"I've realized something."
"Ball control can't improve overnight."
"The faster the pitch, the harder it is to control."
He scratched his head casually.
"…You guys who can't even throw 150 km/h probably wouldn't understand."
Tanba and Kawakami froze.
Veins almost popping.
This brat is so annoying…
"Hahaha!" Miyuki burst out laughing. "He's not wrong though."
Ushijima continued calmly,
"So instead of forcing perfect control…"
"I'd rather use my brain and build a pitching style that multiplies my strengths."
"I don't want to rely on brute force like Sawamura or Furuya—just throwing hard without thinking."
"Hey!" someone protested.
Furuya blinked blankly, not even realizing he'd just been roasted.
Kawakami sighed, then smiled.
"…Alright. I get it. I'll teach you."
"But my Sinker comes from a side-arm delivery. Your mechanics are different, so you'll need to adjust."
Ushijima nodded seriously.
"Thank you, senpai."
If he mastered the Sinker too…
As long as he stayed healthy—
Koshien wouldn't just be a dream.
It would be inevitable.
"Enough talking," Miyuki clapped. "Training time. Thirty pitches each."
They returned to the field.
First batter.
Yuki Tetsuya.
Ushijima stepped onto the mound.
Yesterday, his Two-seam had just reached Gold level.
Perfect test subject.
Sorry, cousin.
He threw.
WHOOSH—
145 km/h.
Yuki immediately judged.
Four-seam.
He swung—
CLANG!
The ball suddenly tailed.
Not straight.
Two-seam.
The contact point shifted.
The ball smashed weakly into the dirt and bounced forward.
Easy infield out.
Miyuki grinned.
"…His Two-seam control improved again."
"If he really completes that nine-square fastball setup…"
"He'll be a nightmare."
"Even now, just Four-seam, Two-seam, and Cutter are already enough to crush most hitters."
"Again," Yuki said calmly.
Second pitch.
145 km/h again.
Cutter? Two-seam?
He guessed Cutter this time—
Swung—
Miss.
Two-seam again.
Back-to-back.
Even against a right-handed batter.
The audacity was insane.
"Tsk…"
Everyone clicked their tongues.
"That's terrifying…"
"Once that Two-seam starts moving, it's basically unhittable."
"The worst part," Isashiki muttered, "is guessing whether it's Cutter or Two-seam…"
He stared at Ushijima on the mound.
"…I feel like I'll never catch up to that guy."
"He's only been here two months…"
"And he's already this strong."
On the mound, Ushijima simply adjusted his glove.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Like everything was natural.
But to everyone watching—
The pressure he radiated…
Had already grown to another level.
An overwhelming sense of oppression.