Chapter 310: Experiments and the Strikeout Machine
"Uh… w-wanna just finish the last four?"
To be honest, when Sendo heard Miyuki's shameless yet timid question, he almost laughed.
Weirdly enough—kind of cute.
It really wasn't the kind of line someone like Miyuki would say.
But Miyuki understood better than anyone—
if this guy wasn't in the mood, he'd walk away without hesitation.
A catcher had no leverage against that. Reality was cruel.
Also, it was a catcher's disease—once they encountered a pitch that thrilled them, their IQ dropped and their shame evaporated.
"So, uh… sorry…" Miyuki apologized weakly when Sendo kept staring at him.
"Well—today I've rested enough. Let's add twenty more balls."
"Eh?" Miyuki stared blankly.
"Twenty-four left, right? What, you don't want to catch? Then I'm going back." Sendo teased.
"No no no! I just spaced out!" Miyuki's speech was starting to sound dangerously like Sawamura—true intelligence damage from emotional weakness.
What could he do? His soft spot had been exposed—completely surrender.
…
Outside the door—
"Amazing… Sendo actually managed to make Miyuki that obedient!"
Behind him, a certain natural airhead nodded vigorously.
"Hey Tetsu, dial your aura down. And you, Furuya—if he notices we're here, we're dead! Also, why are we hiding? Even the coach and Rei-chan…" a certain blonde muttered in a whisper.
"Shh!"
"If we showed up openly, that kid would've bailed instantly," one senpai with closed eyes murmured.
"Uga!"
The onlookers were absurdly quiet. Sendo, too focused on an abnormally meek Miyuki, didn't notice a thing.
And Miyuki, cautious and flustered, didn't realize their 'secret operation' was practically a live broadcast.
"So where are you aiming next? Down the middle?"
"No. I want to test a few things."
"Breaking balls?"
"Not only those. No matter how good the control, it always steals from max velocity and life. With four-square control, you can't replicate Furuya's high-rising pitch path."
"You don't mean…"
"I told you—we're the same type," Sendo said, lifting his hands high like Furuya's wind-up. For Sendo, it was more like stretching—loose and natural.
"When the hell did you—Wait, who did you even tell that to?!" Miyuki protested.
"Did I? Then I'm telling you now."
"Uh…" Today Miyuki's shamelessness encountered someone even shameless—total defeat.
Whoosh!
Sendo stepped without warning—giving Miyuki no time to think.
"Oi! I'm not the hitter, why the surprise attack?"
Shhhhh—BOOM!!
"Unbelievable… it's like another Furuya. A left-handed Furuya! But faster. More spin. More ride. That's his full power."
"…May I continue?" Sendo asked calmly.
"Please do."
BOOM!
BOOM!
"It actually stayed in the zone?!"
BOOM!!
The group outside was already stunned. They thought they couldn't possibly be shocked further.
Then reality slapped them harder.
"Huh… kinda tired…" Sendo said.
"Yeah, right! How weak IS your stamina?!" Miyuki yelled—fully Sawamura-fied.
"No, really. But rather than tired—it feels unfamiliar."
"Hm…" Miyuki crouched, thinking.
"Maybe you haven't pitched in too long. So it feels out of sync. The control's fine, but it's burning more mental energy. That's probably why you stretched your back a few times."
"Maybe. It's been six years since I pitched seriously."
"Six years?" Miyuki's head snapped up.
"So, next pitch. Fastball-splitter."
"You practiced a splitter before?"
"Nope. Never. You think the old man would've let a nine-year-old throw breaking balls?"
"Fair. Then—?"
"I said it. I'm the same type as Furuya."
"So you're just… guessing? (mentally filling gaps) Fine, but if it doesn't count—No wait, I mean—if it sucks, it doesn't count! Pitch counts matter!" Miyuki insisted, protecting his stock like precious treasure.
"Oi—those original ten are done. This is overtime. I can throw whatever I want."
"Don't back out! You didn't say that before!" Miyuki fought back.
Sendo looked away and ignored him.
"Sorry!" Miyuki surrendered instantly, afraid Sendo would drop a fatal:
"I'm tired. I'm going back."
…
"Hey… are you really Miyuki Kazuya? The black-bellied glasses kid I know?" Sendo crouched and asked.
"Heh. Call it whatever you want."
"Seeing you this shameless confirms you really are."
"Haha! Thanks for the compliment!" Miyuki scratched his head awkwardly.
Sendo sighed. At least he didn't shout That wasn't praise!
Once Miyuki controlled the pace, his shamelessness became unbeatable.
"I'm throwing it."
"Yeah. Come on."
whip—BOOM!
"Oi oi! That's your first time?!"
"Yep."
"This is why geniuses are unfair…" Miyuki muttered, speechless, after catching a splitter identical to Furuya's.
"What was that?" Sendo didn't hear clearly.
"Nothing. Nothing at all."
Sendo stared at his hand, thinking.
"What's up?"
"Well… I often borrow the computer in the coach's office—you know that, right?"
"Yeah. You always go in there! Aren't you scared? If it were me, I'd have pissed myself! Coach always wearing sunglasses—super scary! What if the sunglasses are the real body?" Miyuki exaggerated.
Outside, Kataoka's temple twitched with a cute little vein.
"I never really thought about it. Even a coach is just a human."
Hearing that, Kataoka's expression softened.
"Well… that's not wrong. Anyway—what were you trying to say?"
"I looked up splitter data online."
Furuya's ears perked up instantly.
"What?"
"The movement of a splitter varies depending on finger length, grip strength, and how you apply force. Everyone gets a different outcome."
"So?"
"So I want to try a few things. My fingers can pinch the ball cleanly—maybe I can get some interesting movement."
"It's not that easy! And if you start throwing weird stuff, I'm adding to the pitch count!" Miyuki warned, seeing Sendo's curiosity spark.
It wasn't that Sendo had suddenly fallen in love with pitching—he was just naturally very curious. Without that trait, he probably wouldn't have been such a hopeless daydreamer since childhood.
"I know. Just playing around. A tiny experiment."
Sendo adjusted grip strength, finger spacing, and seam position as he spoke.
whoosh
whizz!
"The velocity dropped! No way—"
pop!
"Splitter! He actually threw a splitter!" Miyuki's eyes shot wide.
"Tetsu, did you see that?!"
"Yeah!"
"Tone it down, Tetsu. Same for you, Furuya—if they find out we're here…"
The boys whispered outside the door.
A fast splitter sat between a straight splitter and a fastball, carrying more velocity and later break than a typical splitter—tricking hitters into thinking it's a fastball until it drops.
A normal splitter broke harder but was slower.
And as for the rumor that splitters ruin fingers—that came from coaches who locked wrist mechanics unnaturally. Used like a fastball, they didn't actually hurt.
"Oi oi… two splitter speeds plus a faster straight fastball and a rising fastball… even down the middle, that's three different movement profiles and four different speeds."
Miyuki swallowed hard, already fantasizing about bumping the pitch count to fifty.
Assuming he didn't get murdered.
"Why does this guy hate pitching so much? What a waste…"
"One more time! That last one was perfect!"
"No. Lost interest. Need to try new variations."
Miyuki's request was denied instantly.
From a catcher's viewpoint, consistency mattered—if a pitcher mastered a breaking ball, he could use it in real scenarios.
But this was Sendo. Curiosity was the objective. Once he proved his hypothesis once, it was done. No need to repeat it.
Which was—infuriatingly—wasteful.
"Next one! According to the data, some good splitter throwers can control the drop direction by adjusting finger force," Sendo murmured, turning the ball over in his hand.
whizz
"A normal splitter?"
pop
"So you rejected me verbally but obey in practice? How honest," Miyuki thought smugly.
But—
"It's no different from before… alright, next one."
Reality was harsh. The experiment had simply failed, nothing else.
whizz—pop!
whizz—pop!
…
"That's enough. Looks like you've completely mastered the splitter," Miyuki concluded—misunderstanding severely.
"What are you talking about? I've been testing different force applications."
"…Meaning?" Miyuki finally noticed tiny differences between pitches. But for a pitch type, those variations didn't matter. Humans weren't machines—every straight ball had a slightly different trajectory.
That was why someone who hit 80–90% off a pitching machine only qualified to face a real pitcher with matching speed and route.
"Ah. Looks like a complete failure," Sendo admitted.
"Uh—'failure'? At this level?" Miyuki's face went dark.
How monstrous did this guy want to get?
"Six pitches left."
"Huh?" Miyuki blinked.
"You only exempted bad pitches, right? These weren't bad. The experiment failed, sure, but the pitches were good."
Sendo casually threw Miyuki's own rule back at him—despite having planned to ignore it anyway.
"Weren't you absorbed in splitters? Why'd you track pitch count so clearly? How am I supposed to manipulate you into throwing more if you're like this?!
Why can't you be more like Tetsu—an airhead?!"
Miyuki screamed internally.
Tetsu somehow sensed the slander and glanced in Miyuki's direction.
"Alright, alright, I surrender," Miyuki said out loud.
"If I don't shut you up completely, you black-bellied shameless clown will start some nonsense again," Sendo thought.
"Forget it. Splitters aren't reaching the level the data suggests."
whizz
BOOM!
"Fastball? No—fast splitter. Is he venting frustration?"
clink!
"Uh!"
Miyuki missed the catch—no time to worry about that. His eyes widened like saucers.
"Huh?" Sendo stared at his own hand, just as confused.
"What the—?! That fast splitter broke diagonally like a screwball… like Narumiya's changeup, except the drop was way sharper! That's not something a slow ball can replicate!" Isashiki whispered outside.
Kuramochi clamped a hand over Sawamura's mouth, and a second later felt hot breath through his palm—good thing he reacted fast.
Inside, both boys stared at each other, stunned—completely unaware the doorway was a battlefield of suppressed reactions.
"H-hey…Fast splitters can change angle like that…? Don't tell me—this bastard's not suited for splitters at all…He's a natural-born fast splitter pitcher?! That's a literal strikeout factory…" Miyuki swallowed.
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