Coach Kataoka personally pitched for their angle batting practice the day before.
In the end—
Only Ushijima Wakatoshi and Yuki Tetsuya managed to avoid striking out.
Everyone else?
They paid the price.
Twenty laps. No exceptions.
The next morning—
Ushijima Wakatoshi was already out running, just like always.
By the time the rest of the team arrived at the field, dawn had barely broken.
And yet—
There he was.
Already drenched in sweat.
"…How many kilometers did you run today?"
Isashiki asked while stretching.
"The usual."
Ushijima replied calmly, shaking the sweat from his hair.
"So sleepy…"
Isashiki yawned.
After yesterday's game and training, he hadn't fully recovered.
Even waking up was a struggle.
Morning training?
That was out of the question.
Only Ushijima—
Was still maintaining his routine.
Every day.
Without fail.
His training volume was three to four times that of the first-string players.
And somehow—
He kept it up for months.
"…Yesterday, Coach's pitches were around 140 km/h, right?"
Isashiki asked.
Ushijima shook his head.
"More than that."
"They were already over 140 at the start."
"After he threw over a hundred pitches…"
"…his old rhythm came back."
"In the final round, he was nearly touching 150."
No one questioned it.
Not when it came from Ushijima.
After all—
His own fastball reached 158 km/h.
"He threw almost 200 pitches by himself yesterday…"
Kominato muttered.
"…Isn't that basically what Ushijima does for us?"
Miyuki added.
"He feeds us around 200 pitches every other day."
"…We're definitely going to Koshien this year."
Kuramochi grinned.
"No."
Yuki Tetsuya shook his head, smiling.
"It's not just about going to Koshien."
"This year—"
"We're going to win it."
Silence fell.
Then—
Everyone looked at Ushijima.
With him on the mound—
Their chances weren't just high.
They were overwhelming.
As long as he stayed healthy—
There was no reason they couldn't dominate.
After all—
This monster had eight different pitches:
Four-Seam
Two-Seam
Cutter
Shootball
Sinker
Forkball
Curveball
Slider
With that kind of arsenal—
How could they lose?
"…Speaking of which."
Miyuki narrowed his eyes.
"You still haven't shown us your Forkball."
"Yeah!"
The others immediately backed him up.
"What kind is it?"
"Closer to Tanba's? Or Furuya's?"
Ushijima answered simply:
"Closer to Furuya's."
That made sense.
Tanba's forkball had a bigger drop but was slower.
Furuya's—
Was faster.
Sharper.
Almost like it disappeared right before reaching the plate.
"Then what about speed?"
Miyuki pressed.
"I learned it by watching Furuya practice."
"We're both fastball pitchers, so it fits."
"As for speed…"
He thought for a moment.
"Controlled pitches are around 140 km/h."
"I'm faster."
Furuya suddenly said.
"…."
Ushijima glanced at him, speechless.
He wasn't wrong.
Furuya's forkball could reach around 146 km/h.
Miyuki cut in.
"I'm more interested in the uncontrolled version."
"How fast can it go?"
Ushijima shrugged.
"I haven't properly tested it."
"But based on feel…"
"If I throw it without worrying about control—"
"…it should exceed 150 km/h."
Silence.
Then—
"…What?!"
A forkball over 150 km/h?
That wasn't normal.
A pitch like that—
With a sudden vertical drop—
Was almost impossible to hit.
Even at 140 km/h, it was already dangerous.
Anything faster?
That bordered on unfair.
Still—
Ushijima remained calm.
"For now, I sacrifice speed for control."
"Otherwise, it's useless in a game."
"…You've basically mastered every pitch, haven't you?"
Miyuki muttered.
"Almost."
Ushijima stretched his shoulders.
"There's still the Changeup."
"I can throw it—but it's not very effective yet."
He continued honestly:
"My Sinker, Slider, and Curveball still need work."
"The curveball drops well…"
"But the trajectory is too easy to read."
Miyuki nodded.
They had noticed that yesterday.
"The slider doesn't move enough either."
"Only a few centimeters."
"Compare that to Narumiya—his breaks over 30 centimeters."
"So mine isn't threatening enough yet."
"I'll need time to improve it."
In other words—
They were still incomplete.
"…And once you do improve them…"
Miyuki muttered.
"…you'll be unstoppable."
He felt tired just thinking about it—
But also excited.
He still had a year and a half.
More than enough time—
To see Ushijima Wakatoshi become something truly terrifying.
That morning—
They kept training light.
Just basic conditioning.
After all—
The semifinal match was today.