The game was moving exactly in the direction Kanzaki Yuto wanted!
Sawamura Eijun’s double had shaken the second- and third-years, and with no certainty whether Kominato Haruichi would get a chance to bat, Kanzaki Yuto decisively called for a pinch-hit, ensuring Kominato could step up and further tip the scales in favor of the first-years.
The nonexistent signals would make the pitcher-catcher duo suspicious of each other.
Eijun, whose hit had already tricked the defense with a bunt stance, was now like a thorn firmly lodged in the minds of the upperclassmen, forcing them to pay attention.
“Facing an unfamiliar opponent, and under these circumstances, anyone would usually start with an outside pitch as a test.
Could anything be easier to read than this?” Kominato’s lips curved slightly into a confident smile as he watched the white streak flying toward him.
There were very few catchers in the world whose pitch-calling could not be read.
Why was Miyuki Kazuya so highly praised in baseball magazines?
Why did so many high schools specifically recruit him upon junior high graduation?
Why was he hailed as Seidou’s savior the moment he entered the team?
Even as a first-year, he had been entrusted with the starting catcher’s #2 position—not just because the genius catcher Kris had been injured that year.
Don’t assume that just because someone lost an opportunity, it will automatically fall into your lap.
In this world, such luck doesn’t exist.
The only possibility was that you possessed comparable talent.
Talent that inspires absolute trust and expectation.
Miyuki Kazuya was precisely that kind of player—someone whose presence could elevate a pitcher’s performance to a whole new level.
With his guidance, a pitcher could give 100% of their ability—or even 120%!
Clearly, Miyauchi Keisuke on the field was not such a catcher.
Sure, any player who made Seidou’s first team wasn’t simple, but compared to Miyuki Kazuya, the difference was significant.
Under these circumstances, even Kanzaki Yuto, familiar with the original flow of events, wouldn’t be confident that things would unfold as planned if Miyuki Kazuya were behind the plate.
He was unpredictable.
BAM!
Just as Kominato had predicted, Miyauchi, unsure of what these first-years were up to, signaled an outside pitch to Kawakami.
Compared to the inside corner, outside pitches were safer—less likely to be hit for extra bases.
But if the batter guessed the pitch from the start, even a slightly weaker swing could guarantee a hit.
Of course, Kominato’s strength was a noticeable weakness.
Junior high baseball didn’t demand as much raw power as high school, so even if Kominato connected with the ball, it would barely make it between first and second base.
It wasn’t enough for Eijun to dash home—and Kanzaki Yuto had already instructed him not to push too hard on the base paths.
Indeed, in the previous life, Eijun’s exceptional athleticism and flexible joints had allowed him to score from first base in that intra-squad game—a feat considered impossible for most.
But Kanzaki Yuto thought that was too risky.
Beyond the chance of an out, the potential for injury to Eijun himself was unacceptable.
No matter how flexible, human joints have limits.
Eijun’s flexibility was extraordinary, yes, but what if he got hurt?
This was just a practice game.
Even if Kanzaki Yuto gave it his all, he wouldn’t risk a real injury in high school baseball, where a severe injury could end a career.
Seidou High already had a living example of that.
So Kanzaki Yuto solemnly reminded Eijun to be careful on the bases.
Even if he didn’t fully understand, Eijun sensed the concern behind the words, muttered a few words in response, and agreed.
Otherwise, true to his nature, he would have charged home on that hit without hesitation.
Even so, this outcome was already excellent.
No outs.
Runners on first and third.
Miyauchi’s expression darkened as he looked at the slightly flushed Kominato at first.
He knew without a doubt that the first-year had seen through his pitch.
“Damn!
First-year brats!” Miyauchi silently cursed.
For a catcher, having your pitch read by the batter was a deep humiliation.
“Ohhh!
Now this is getting interesting!” “And the next batter is…!” The first-years’ performance outside the field immediately excited the spectators.
A one-sided blowout was boring, but now the rookies were showing spirit and skill!
After warming up in the on-deck circle, Kanzaki Yuto adjusted his cap and stepped into the batter’s box, bowing politely: “Please watch over me!” “Damn it!” Miyauchi’s heart sank as he saw Kanzaki Yuto’s solid stance.
In his last at-bat, this kid had already read Tanba’s inside pitch.
He hadn’t recognized it as a curveball and swung and missed.
Had he guessed correctly or faced a fastball instead, the first hit—or even a home run—would have been born.
No joke.
Kanzaki Yuto wasn’t as big as Kominato, and his frame didn’t look imposing.
Yet from this angle, Miyauchi could clearly see the thick muscles from neck to chest, proving the boy had significant strength.
Sure, baseball relied on skill and intuition, but without the proper physical foundation, talent alone was useless.
Kanzaki Yuto had trained his body from a young age.
Though not as naturally robust as others, it was enough to compete in high school baseball.
Physically, yes—but for hitting, Kanzaki Yuto had only his sharp eyesight and ability to read pitches to rely on.
Of course, predicting pitches wasn’t a skill in itself—it was just a tool, an auxiliary method.
True hitting power came from experience, strength, technique, vision, and reflexes.
Guessing the pitcher-catcher strategy was just a reference, not the main method.
The strongest hitters never rely on guessing pitches.
Take Seidou’s current cleanup hitter, Yuuki Tetsuya, for example—able to adjust freely, hit powerfully, and strike with precision.
That was true batting mastery.
Kanzaki Yuto wanted, no—needed—to become that kind of hitter.
But with his lack of experience, he had many gaps to make up for, and for now, his sharp eyesight and pitch reading were his only advantages.
Fortunately, his opponent wasn’t an unreasonably difficult high school pitcher.
Hoo!
Kanzaki Yuto’s gaze hardened.
This time, he would not disappoint them!
This time, he would send them home safely!
He gripped his bat tightly, eyes fixed on Kawakami on the mound, resolute.
The perfect golden trident was about to shine, with its final, brightest prong ready to strike!