Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!
Ten consecutive line drives tore across the field.
Even Ushijima Wakatoshi couldn't catch them all.
No one could guarantee stopping every single ball.
Still—
even when a few slipped past, he sprinted after them immediately, cutting them off and firing them back without hesitation.
"Ha… ha…"
Under such relentless pressure, even his stamina began draining rapidly.
"This is insane… when is this training going to end?"
"Yeah… Ushijima's stamina is ridiculous. The upperclassmen can't even run anymore, but he's still moving."
"No wonder he became ace two weeks after enrolling…"
The nearby Second Team players could only stare in shock.
Even Coach Kataoka watched with clear satisfaction.
At first, he'd worried that Ushijima's insane training volume might lead to injuries.
But over the past two months, Ushijima had been regularly getting muscle therapy and massages, taking recovery seriously.
He protected his body well.
And now—
Seido simply couldn't do without him.
"Yuki!" the coach barked. "How long are you going to hide behind others?"
Yuki Tetsuya's eyes sharpened.
"One more ball!"
CRACK!!
The ball screamed forward.
Too fast.
Too close.
It smashed straight into his body.
Pain shot through him—
But he still trapped it and threw it back.
"Masuko!" the coach continued. "Ushijima's hitting consistency is better than yours now."
"Maybe I should give him the fifth batter spot!"
"Oh right—he's still our pitcher too."
Masuko's eyes widened.
"…Ugh!!"
I can't lose. I can't lose to a first-year…!
CRACK!
The ball slammed into his stomach.
His body fat cushioned it—
But it still hurt like hell.
"Kuramochi!" the coach turned.
"See that first-year behind you?"
"His original position was shortstop."
"Pitching's better than you. Faster than you. Defense might even be better than you."
"We already have five pitchers."
"Maybe I should just make Ushijima the starting shortstop too?"
"NO!!!"
Kuramochi roared.
"I can still run! Hit it to me!!"
CRACK!
He chased it—
Missed.
The ball rolled past his glove.
He collapsed face-first onto the grass, chest heaving.
But after a second—
He forced himself back up.
He refused to stay down.
"Kominato," the coach said coldly, "where's that smile of yours?"
"You used to be the team's best technical hitter."
"Now even Ushijima's pitching control rivals you."
"He's only a first-year."
"What about you? And your brother?"
CRACK!
Kominato dove.
Barely caught it.
Outside the field, Haruichi watched silently, fists clenched.
His exhausted older brother…
still fighting.
Another hour passed.
It was already 7 p.m.
Dark.
The stadium lights glared overhead.
Every starter was finished.
Yuki.
Kominato.
Masuko.
Isashiki.
Shirasu.
Kuramochi.
All kneeling.
Legs trembling.
Barely breathing.
Only one person remained standing.
Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Hands on his knees.
Sweat dripping like heavy rain.
Coach Kataoka had started hitting at 4 p.m.
Three hours straight.
Even with assistant coaches rotating in—
it was still hell.
"Ushijima," the coach called from the batter's box.
"Want another one?"
Ushijima straightened slowly.
Back firm.
Eyes steady.
"…Otherwise, why did I come to Japan?"
CRACK!
He sprinted.
Dive—
Catch.
Before anyone could breathe—
CRACK!
Another one.
He chased it down.
Glove scraping the dirt.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Five straight balls.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
He ran everything.
Originally, two of those should've gone to Isashiki—
But Isashiki couldn't even stand anymore.
So Ushijima took them all.
"Ho… ho…"
His breathing grew rough.
Hands braced on his thighs.
Yet—
His legs weren't shaking.
Not like the third-years'.
The coach noticed.
Not at his limit yet…
CRACK!
Another shot.
Ushijima still ran.
Still chased.
Still fought.
The entire field fell silent.
Everyone watching was stunned.
Three hours of defensive drills.
Even the third-years had collapsed.
But this first-year…
was still standing.
Even Coach Kataoka was breathing heavily now.
And yet—
Ushijima lifted his head.
Sweat pouring down his face.
He looked straight at the coach and said calmly:
"…Coach."
"What's wrong?"
"…Already out of energy?"
"…I still have plenty left."
"!!!!!!!!"
The entire stadium froze.
Over a hundred people.
Speechless.
A player…
provoking the coach?
When everyone else could barely stand—
he still had the strength to challenge him?
Monster.
No—
something worse.