Immovable as a mountain.
Perhaps it was just an act, or perhaps it was nothing more than an impressive façade hiding inner weakness—but no matter how one looked at it, from the surface alone, Kanzaki Yuto’s performance undeniably made everyone present brighten with surprise.
That steady bearing, that calm and indifferent expression, caused Tanba on the pitcher’s mound to feel a faint chill in his heart.
The hand gripping the baseball tightened unconsciously.
Miyauchi, standing beside Kanzaki Yuto, was equally startled by Kanzaki Yuto’s presence.
It was as if an aura of certain victory lingered around him.
Kataoka’s expression remained cold and unchanged, not showing the slightest ripple as if Kanzaki Yuto’s performance had failed to move him at all.
But what he was thinking inside—only he and heaven itself knew.
This kid is definitely strange.
Let’s test him with an outside ball first and see how he reacts.
Miyauchi flashed the sign.
Tanba nodded faintly.
Kanzaki Yuto gave him an unsettling sense of danger—despite being nothing more than a first-year rookie.
The first pitch.
The instant Tanba’s arm swung and the ball left his hand, a sharp glint flashed through Kanzaki Yuto’s eyes.
That brief chill sent a shudder through Miyauchi, who had been watching him closely.
A deeply ominous feeling rose within him.
Judging by the trajectory, it was an outside pitch.
But whether it was a fastball or a breaking ball, Kanzaki Yuto couldn’t tell.
In that split second, all he could do was rely on the fleeting image caught in his peripheral vision and swing by pure instinct.
As the bat cut through the air, Miyauchi could almost feel the whoosh of the swing—and the oppressive force behind it.
“BANG!” Bat and ball collided in an instant.
The moment contact was made, Kanzaki Yuto knew—this swing had problems.
The bat hadn’t fully come around.
It was late—too late.
He had barely managed to reach it.
Grinding his teeth, Kanzaki Yuto forced the swing through with sheer brute strength, sweeping the ball sideways.
The crowd erupted in gasps as the ball streaked past center field under countless shocked gazes, including Tanba’s and Miyauchi’s disbelieving eyes.
“Foul ball!” Kanzaki Yuto lowered his head and looked at his bat.
The instant he swung, he knew the ball wouldn’t stay fair.
The angle was wrong.
The speed was wrong.
Even his batting form had collapsed.
Not being caught was already a stroke of luck.
And it was only because he’d muscled it out horizontally.
Kanzaki Yuto frowned slightly.
“How is that possible…” Tanba murmured, staring at Kanzaki Yuto’s calm expression in the batter’s box.
If that ball had stayed fair, it would’ve been a home run.
A mere first-year… how could he swing like that?
If his swing had been just a little earlier—wouldn’t it have gone over the fence?
That thought startled Tanba himself.
In truth, he’d been deceived by the illusion of Kanzaki Yuto’s swing.
Objectively speaking, that hit had indeed been late.
In fact, it had a much higher chance of becoming a ground ball.
It was only due to luck, brute force, and an awkward yet sharp bat angle that it turned into a towering foul fly.
Even if Kanzaki Yuto had timed it perfectly, at best it would’ve been a single through the infield.
A home run?
That was vastly overestimating him.
But among everyone present, very few could see that clearly.
Kataoka raised an eyebrow slightly, a trace of unreadable light flashing in his eyes as he looked at Kanzaki Yuto.
Miyuki, meanwhile, stared at Kanzaki Yuto with a solemn expression.
At this very moment, he truly realized what kind of monster his dormmate junior was.
Yes—a monster.
Even if Tanba wasn’t a legendary pitcher of his era, hitting his pitch like that on a first encounter was no joke.
“…That’s amazing!” Nearly all the first-years stared at Kanzaki Yuto in shock.
Yes, some of them had made contact before—but those were obvious “let-you-hit” pitches.
Getting a batter out by a catch was far easier than striking them out.
“That guy…” Kanemaru muttered, eyes wide.
“Yeah!
Go for it!
Show those arrogant second- and third-years what you’ve got!” Seeing Kanzaki Yuto’s performance, Sawamura immediately started shouting at the top of his lungs, earning furious glares from the upperclassmen.
Well—poor fool still had no idea how much hatred he’d just drawn.
“Ohhh!
This first-year is actually interesting!” “To hit Tanba’s fastball like that… this kid might be worth developing!” Damn it.
A restless irritation rose in Miyauchi’s chest.
Just one swing.
Just one pitch.
And yet, as a third-year, a regular player, and the team’s second catcher, he had felt a chill the moment Kanzaki Yuto swung.
That was humiliation.
A mere first-year brat—know your place and act like a first-year!
No more testing him.
Get serious.
Don’t give this rookie even the slightest chance to build momentum.
Miyauchi signaled sharply, his expression cold.
Tanba nodded.
Kanzaki Yuto had never imagined that a single all-out swing—using every ounce of strength he had—would stir up such a reaction.
Even less did he expect it to ignite the fury of both pitcher and catcher.
“Inside fastball!
Aim at the chest!” As Kanzaki Yuto settled into his stance, Miyauchi unhesitatingly signaled for an inside pitch.
The ball screamed forward, as if trying to devour the batter.
It felt as though it arrived before it was even thrown.
Kanzaki Yuto swung almost purely on reflex.
The result—he missed completely.
And due to inertia and poor coordination, he stumbled forward, nearly falling to the ground.
Only then did shock appear on Kanzaki Yuto’s face.
Tanba… can throw something like that?
In his memory, Tanba had always been rather soft—similar to that backup pitcher’s temperament.
Well… that was his own bias showing.
In the fiercely competitive world of Japanese high school baseball, there were only relatively soft personalities—never truly weak ones.
Truly weak people would never set foot on a high school baseball field.
“Huff…” Kanzaki Yuto exhaled softly, tightening his grip on the bat and clenching his lips.
He stared coldly at Tanba, stepping slightly forward—clearly displaying a stance that showed he wasn’t afraid of a hit-by-pitch.
“This kid…” Miyauchi’s gaze turned razor-sharp as he looked at Kanzaki Yuto’s resolute expression.
If the second- and third-years carried such overwhelming presence because they had endured the cruelty of high school baseball— Then how could this first-year brat possess such momentum?!