The field had gone quiet.
Kenji Takahashi stepped back into the batter's box, bat resting on his shoulder.
In front of him stood a new pitcher — a third-year known for his sharp slider and fast inside pitches. He wasn't elite like Furuya or Tanba, but he was respected.
Behind the plate crouched Miyuki Kazuya.
Seidou's cunning, sharp-tongued catcher. The one known for breaking down players mentally before they even swung.
"Alright, rookie," Miyuki said with a half-smile. "Let's see if you're the real deal or just good at hitting meatballs."
Kenji said nothing.
He simply stepped in, eyes locked in.
His body was still.
But his mind was on fire.
Spin rate. Finger pressure. Elbow angle.
The moment the pitcher moved, Kenji saw everything.
First pitch: a slider.
Kenji read it before the release. He didn't chase. The ball curved late but missed the zone.
"Ball one!"
Miyuki raised an eyebrow.
"He didn't even flinch."
Second pitch — a fastball, high and tight.
Kenji took a half step back. Let it pass.
"Ball two!"
Now the whispers were louder. A few second-years watched nervously. Coach Kataoka crossed his arms, watching with a hawk's gaze.
Third pitch.
Miyuki gave the sign for the sharpest inside slider the pitcher could throw.
"Bust him inside."
The ball came screaming toward Kenji's chest.
He didn't move.
Instead, he turned into it — and swung.
CRACK!
The sound echoed like thunder.
The ball launched into left field, slicing through the air like a missile.
It didn't just clear the fence.
It cleared the fence and landed on the batting cage beyond the field.
The silence was deafening.
Someone finally spoke.
"No way..."
"That was a third-year pitching his best stuff..."
"He crushed it like it was nothing!"
Kenji calmly stepped out of the box, dragging the bat behind him.
Miyuki stood slowly, watching him with a sharp, unreadable expression.
He smirked.
"Yeah... you're no ordinary rookie."
After the drill, Kenji returned to the bench.
He didn't bask in the attention.
He just sat, head down, quietly thinking.
His heartbeat was calm. His breathing steady.
But inside, a fire burned.
In his past life, he'd been mediocre. Forgotten. A failed talent who choked in the big moments.
Here?
Here he would be remembered.
"I'll break through this time. I swear it."
Meanwhile, in the coach's office...
"He's too good for the second string," one assistant said.
Kataoka didn't answer immediately. He was watching the slow-mo replay on the screen from the field camera.
Kenji's swing was fast. Compact. Flawless.
"Put him in the exhibition game next week," Kataoka finally said. "Let's see how he performs under pressure."