"Ahhh!!! That bastard Ushijima — I'm going to beat him to a pulp!"
"This is the fifth time already, and my batting average's still under .400. I've been penalized five times!"
"In ten days I ran the bases 600 times and swung the bat 1,000 times!"
Isashiki bent over, gasping for air, his breathing ragged.
In front of him stood Shirasu, Kuramochi, Kominato, and Masuko.
And weren't they all the same?
Ushijima had started each of them with thirty pitches during the pitching-and-hitting drills.
Five sessions in ten days.
Five losses.
Not a single successful round.
Kuramochi, Shirasu, Kominato, Masuko, and Isashiki all normally held batting averages above .400.
Yuki Tetsuya, the clean-up hitter, aimed for .550.
Catcher Miyuki Kazuya even set his goal at .600.
Yet in these five training sessions…
Not one of the seven had cleared the challenge.
Simply put, hitting 17 out of 30 fair balls meant a .567 average.
Yuki needed 17 hits to pass.
Miyuki, as catcher, needed 18.
So far, Yuki had come the closest.
Once, he hit sixteen.
Just one short.
"You're here too?" Kuramochi called out as Miyuki walked over.
"Haha… what a headache," Miyuki sighed. "That bastard Ushijima knows exactly what I'm thinking."
"After working together for so long, he's started scheming specifically against me."
He spoke while carrying out his base-running penalty, completely helpless.
"I swear… before I graduate, I'm going to beat him to a pulp!" Isashiki growled.
"In that case… I'm afraid that won't happen, Isashiki-senpai," Miyuki said calmly.
"What did you say?!"
"Haha~ Because that guy's learning a sinker now."
"If he adds Kawakami's pitch to his arsenal, it won't just be four types anymore—four-seam, two-seam, cutter… and sinker."
"With three pitches alone you can't even hit .400. Imagine four."
"AHHHHHHH!"
Everyone except Miyuki collapsed to the ground in despair.
"Oh!!! Dinner's ready!!!"
By evening, the team manager brought out rice balls, sushi, and bananas.
The team had officially entered training camp.
For this entire week, even players who usually commuted home had to stay overnight.
And on top of joint practices…
Their training volume doubled.
"Did the manager really make all this? That's amazing!"
"Then I won't hold back — let's eat!"
After the brutal practice, Sawamura was already starving and rushed forward—
Only for Kuramochi to smack him on the head.
"Your senior's haven't eaten yet. What do you think you're doing?"
"Y-Yes sir…"
Sawamura could only obediently wait.
Currently, four first-years were on the First String:
Ushijima, Sawamura, Furuya, and Kominato.
Once the seniors began eating, Ushijima quietly picked up a rice ball.
Honestly, he was hungry.
But he didn't plan to eat much.
If his stomach got too full, training later would feel miserable.
Because today's practice… wasn't over yet.
There was still more to come.
Experience had taught him that an overfilled stomach only made everything worse.
"Even though it's called a training camp, it doesn't feel much different from usual," Sawamura muttered while eating, turning to Kuramochi.
As both his senior and self-proclaimed "older brother," Kuramochi explained patiently.
"It's mainly to give dorms to players who live far away."
"But for now, both fields are reserved for just our twenty First String members."
"So everyone's workload doubles."
"Be grateful. Your teammates are supporting you."
"Of course, of course!" Sawamura nodded eagerly.
But Kuramochi's eyes gleamed with mischief.
Since he had suffered before…
Why not pass it on?
"That said, you can eat as much as you want. We still have training later."
"Really?!" Sawamura's eyes sparkled.
"Hehe. Of course. It's like this every day during camp. Eat without worry."
Kuramochi secretly chuckled.
The manager even came over with extra rice balls.
"There's plenty more!"
"Oh ho~!"
The moment Sawamura saw food, all rational thought vanished.
"If I eat everything now, I won't be hungry during night practice! Hahaha!"
Completely clueless.
The others watched him with complicated expressions.
After all…
Every single one of them had once been tricked the same way.
It was practically a Seido tradition.
"He's gonna throw up, right?" Yuki muttered.
"Definitely," Masuko sighed sympathetically.
"He's dead," Isashiki said flatly.
"How pitiful…" Kominato looked away.
Even his own brother didn't warn him.
And Kuramochi, the mastermind, muttered excitedly:
"Last year Isashiki-senpai made me train until I almost died… This hell has only just begun."
"Sawamura… don't blame me. The rain your brother got soaked in — you have to soak in too."
"Hehehe…"
Behind him, Miyuki ate a banana, looking both amused and relieved.
"Thank goodness this guy isn't my senior…"
Then he noticed Ushijima had stopped eating.
"You're done already?"
"Yeah. Training later. Eating too much will make it harder."
He said it plainly.
Sawamura and the others heard him—
And completely ignored it.
"By the way, how's your sinker training going?" Miyuki asked.
Everyone perked up.
"Sigh… long story. Not much progress yet."
The group let out mixed sighs.
Relieved…
Yet disappointed.
Relieved because their chances of beating Ushijima hadn't dropped again.
Disappointed because…
If he mastered another pitch,
He'd become even stronger—
And even closer to Koshien.