There were two different ways Ushijima Wakatoshi gripped his cutter.
The first—
With his fingers crossing the seams of the baseball, the pitch would produce a sharp, downward cut, breaking aggressively toward the inside of a left-handed batter in the right batter's box.
The second—
With his fingers resting along the seams, the pitch would create a subtler movement, slicing inward with a smaller, controlled break.
Both were cutters.
But—
They didn't behave the same way.
This was Ushijima Wakatoshi's own variation.
The system had only taught him the fundamentals of the cutter—
But every pitcher naturally develops their own style.
Based on grip, mechanics, and feel—
Each pitch evolves differently.
And Ushijima—
Had taken it one step further.
Two grips.
Two movements.
One pitch type.
"Clang!"
Akikawa's second batter swung—
But the bat was completely jammed.
"Smack!"
A weak grounder rolled forward.
Ushijima moved instantly—
Fielded the ball—
Threw to first.
"Out!"
The batter stood frozen for a moment.
Disbelief filled his face.
"…How is that possible?"
"Two cutters… with completely different movement?"
He clenched his fists.
"The first one… didn't make me swing."
"It had that slight downward, slider-like break."
"But the second one—"
"It dropped sharply and cut inward much faster!"
"…Even the tail movement is different."
Even after being retired—
He still couldn't process it.
And he wasn't the only one.
The other players watching felt their scalps tingle.
"He stopped relying on his four-seam fastball…"
"And now he's using cutters to get quick outs?"
"Three pitches… two batters eliminated."
"Isn't that too efficient?"
The players from Ichidai Third High School were visibly shaken.
Standing quietly with his hands in his pockets—
Kousei Amahisa watched without saying a word.
"When he wants strikeouts, he gets them in three or four pitches…"
"But now…"
"He's not chasing strikeouts."
"He's forcing weak contact."
"Saving pitch count."
"Controlling the game."
"…This guy is way too composed."
The same realization hit the players from Inashiro Industrial.
On the field—
"Out! Side retired!"
Another clean inning.
Three batters.
No one on base.
Coach Kataoka Tesshin turned slightly.
"What's his pitch count?"
Chris checked his notes.
"In the first three innings—against nine batters—"
"29 pitches. All strikeouts."
"In the fourth inning—"
"Three outs in just four pitches."
"Total so far…"
"33 pitches in four innings."
Silence.
Even the coach looked impressed.
But someone else was completely shaken.
Furuya Satoru.
"…How?"
He stared at Ushijima in disbelief.
"In practice… I need over 20 pitches just to get three outs…"
"Even if I strike them out cleanly…"
"That's five or six pitches per batter…"
"…But you—"
"Four innings… only 33 pitches?"
"…How do you do that?"
He wasn't complaining.
He was genuinely asking.
Ushijima glanced at him.
Then smiled faintly.
"…Didn't you remember anything I told you before?"
"…."
Furuya froze.
Clearly—
He didn't.
Ushijima sighed.
"First—"
"Learn more pitch types."
"The more options you have…"
"The more the batter has to think."
"The more they think—"
"The more advantage you gain."
"Second—"
"You're not fighting alone."
"It's not you vs the batter."
"It's the batter vs nine defenders."
"There are seven behind you."
"One in front."
"Use them."
"Third—"
"Just because a batter gets on base—"
"Doesn't mean you've lost."
"As long as he doesn't score—"
"You're still winning."
"First base. Second base. Even third—"
"It doesn't matter."
"Stop him from reaching home."
"That's all."
Furuya stared blankly.
Still… confused.
Nearby—
Sawamura Eijun quietly leaned in, listening.
Ushijima shook his head.
"…Forget it."
"You two only think about throwing harder."
"Talking more is pointless."
"You'll forget it tomorrow anyway."
With that—
He picked up his bat.
And walked toward the field.
His eyes locked onto one person.
You Shunshin.
He had been waiting.
The moment Ushijima stepped into the batter's box—
You Shunshin didn't hesitate.
"Come!"
First pitch—
"WHOOSH!"
"Clang!"
Ushijima swung immediately—
A fastball—
Sent foul near first base.
"Foul!"
The catcher blinked.
"…He swung on the first pitch?"
Even You Shunshin frowned slightly.
Last time—
Ushijima waited until the fourth pitch.
And targeted the curveball.
But now—
First pitch.
Swing.
No hesitation.
Unpredictable.
"Clang!"
Second pitch—
Another powerful swing.
Foul again.
You Shunshin narrowed his eyes.
This guy…
I can't read him at all.