Chapter 5: Pitcher
What surprised Rinichi was that Coach Kataoka actually stepped in as the batter himself to put pressure on him—batting left-handed, no less.
Thankfully, after the walk over, his stomach felt a bit better. It shouldn't interfere with his pitching. In fact, his feel for the ball was even better than before breakfast. His pitch velocity should now be around 145+ km/h.
Rinichi settled into his pitching stance, eyes focused and sharp under the brim of his cap. His right leg lifted high, then stepped forward. As his arm came through, the ball spun out of his fingers.
Miyuki was caught off guard. A fastball? No—it was a cutter.
He shifted his mitt sharply to the left, body leaning into the direction. He thought he had it lined up, but the ball veered slightly upward.
Even if someone swung at that pitch, it would either go foul or miss completely. And the velocity? It had to be near 150 km/h.
Sweat beaded on Miyuki's forehead, but he was grinning.
He stared at Rinichi. Who the hell is this kid?
He picked up the ball and tossed it back to Rinichi.
Coach Kataoka, too, looked visibly surprised.
"Continue," Kataoka said.
Rinichi nodded and went through his full repertoire of pitches.
After the first ball, Miyuki was able to catch everything, even when Rinichi threw that exact first pitch again. Though, Miyuki was clearly straining a bit.
After a dozen or so throws, Coach Kataoka stopped pretending to be a batter and stood off to the side, silently observing, as if contemplating something.
The throwing went on and on—Rinichi had no idea how many pitches he'd thrown. But he was clearly exhausted. It felt like more than he'd ever pitched in any game.
Meanwhile, Miyuki was getting more comfortable with every catch.
Rinichi silently wondered: When will Coach let him stop?
He had never thrown this many pitches in training—definitely not in a game either.
His breathing grew heavy. His arm no longer felt like his own.
Out of frustration, Rinichi hurled one more pitch, form all over the place. The ball fell short, bouncing just before Miyuki's mitt.
"…," Rinichi was speechless.
Coach Kataoka finally said, "That's enough for today. Ice your arm and rest."
With that, he turned and walked away.
Rinichi finally let out a deep breath.
"Ninety-five pitches," Miyuki said, getting to his feet with a sly grin. "Most guys can go over a hundred. Ninety-five? That's barely passing."
"…," Rinichi had no comeback.
He knew this was the result of all the training he'd skipped before.
And realistically, his stamina couldn't compare to the upperclassmen.
Before high school, he hadn't even finished growing, so he wasn't allowed to do strenuous exercise. High school baseball was a different beast entirely—especially in terms of physical demands.
To make things worse, Rinichi had never been fond of training. His endurance was weak.
Today, every pitch had been thrown with full effort.
It was the first time he realized the downside of trying too hard to impress.
He figured his top speed today probably reached around 149 km/h.
The more he pitched, the faster it got. His feel improved with each throw. If he'd paced himself, maybe he could've thrown ten more pitches.
Still, he thought, "If I train properly, I can improve."
"…," Rinichi wasn't sure how to take that—was that encouragement?
"Well then, I'll be counting on you from now on, senpai," he said politely. He held a lot of respect for upperclassmen, especially those he'd just met.
Unfortunately, Rinichi didn't get much time to rest.
Coach Kataoka soon called him over to play left field.
It was a scrimmage match—mixed teams of First and Second Strings.
"…," Rinichi had never played left field before.
Actually, other than pitcher and batter, he'd never played any position.
So this would be a first.
Thankfully, left field wasn't too active a position. He couldn't help but feel like Coach Kataoka was being kind to him.
The game continued until noon.
Then came the dreaded three bowls of rice.
By the end of lunch, Rinichi was the last one in the cafeteria—his first time finishing dead last at something.
Stomach bloated and aching, he dragged himself back to the dorm, longing for the comfort of the air conditioner.
He almost dozed off—until Kuramochi mocked him for his awkwardness in left field.
"How stiff were you moving out there? You looked like you were frozen!" Kuramochi laughed.
"…," Rinichi had no response.
Because it was all true.
Especially that strange, wheezing laughter of Kuramochi's.
"What's with that face? You look like you're about to die," Kuramochi Yoichi laughed again. "Don't tell me you're already done for?"
Rinichi shook his head. "It's just… too hot."
He slapped his bloated stomach lightly. "And uncomfortably full."
He honestly felt like he was on the verge of collapsing.
"Hang in there. This is only the beginning."
Rinichi: "…"
In the afternoon, Coach Kataoka had him play left field again. But he hadn't been standing there long when Kataoka called him to get ready for the mound.
For the first time, Rinichi experienced the thrill of stepping onto the pitcher's mound.
With excitement, he eagerly began warming up.
"Huh? Isn't that a first-year? He made the First String right away? Must be something special," Kominato Ryousuke said with a grin.
Beside him, Yuuki Tetsuya said nothing.
On the mound, Miyuki covered his mouth with his glove. "Feeling nervous?"
Rinichi shook his head.
"Then let's finish this inning as quickly as possible," Miyuki said with a sly smile.
Rinichi's eyes lit up. "Got it!"
Miyuki returned to his position behind the plate.
The batter stepped up—Rinichi was surprised to see it was his dorm mate, Kuramochi Yoichi.
After seeing Miyuki's sign, Rinichi nodded, adjusted his grip hidden in the glove, lifted his right leg, stepped forward, and fired the ball.
Boom. It slammed straight into Miyuki's mitt.
"Strike!"
Second pitch—swing and a miss.
"Strike!"
Third pitch.
"Strike! Batter out!"
A three-pitch strikeout!
The upperclassmen inhaled sharply.
This kid's a first-year?!
Coach Kataoka, arms crossed, called out, "Second batter, Kominato Ryousuke."
"Third batter, Yuuki Tetsuya."
The two, caught off guard, responded slowly, "Yes!"
Both were heavy hitters.
Kominato readied himself, watching Rinichi intently.
But the moment Rinichi threw the ball, it zipped past him—close to the body.
"Foul ball!"
Second pitch—swing and a miss.
"Strike!"
Third pitch—another swing.
"Strike! Batter out!"
Kominato gave a wry smile, sweat on his brow. This first-year's pitches were interesting.
As he passed Yuuki, he muttered, "His ball's weird. Tough to hit."
Yuuki glanced at him but said nothing.
This new batter felt completely different from the others.
Rinichi felt the pressure. It wasn't just nerves—it was the aura radiating from Yuuki Tetsuya.
He took a deep breath and pitched according to Miyuki's sign.
Yuuki swung quickly—missed. His golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"Strike!"
Second pitch—he held.
"Ball!"
Third pitch—held again.
"Ball!"
Fourth pitch.
"Foul ball!"
Fifth pitch—swing and a miss.
"Strike! Batter out!"
Rinichi exhaled. His eyes under the brim of his cap were sharp and focused, cold and intense.
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