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“That bastard Ushijima!”

“How could he write such a touching song?”

“And why did he wait until after we graduated to write it?!”

“If we’d had that song while we were still on the team, it would’ve motivated me to hit five more home runs!”

“The lyrics hit way too hard…”

“They bring back every memory of my baseball career.”

Inside Class 3-A, Yuki Tetsuya, Isashiki Jun, and former manager Fujiwara Takako were watching the recording of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s classroom performance.

Yuki folded his arms with a smile.

“It really does strike a chord.”

“Especially for those of us who spent nearly three years chasing the dream of baseball.”

Fujiwara nodded.

“I heard the school has already contacted a professional arranger.”

“They’re planning to rearrange the song and make it the official anthem of the Seido baseball club.”

“What?!”

Isashiki nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Seriously?”

“It’s true.”

Fujiwara laughed.

“When I get back to the dorm tonight…”

“I’m definitely settling the score with that brat.”

“We’ve barely retired, and he’s already replacing the team’s anthem!”

The song caused an enormous stir throughout Seido.

Every afternoon, large crowds gathered outside the baseball field just to watch the team practice.

Whenever Ushijima made a diving catch or a sliding play…

The girls watching from the sidelines erupted into excited screams.

The rest of the team could only watch with envy.

“What exactly can’t this guy do?”

Kanemaru sighed openly.

The others silently agreed.

After finishing another grueling practice, Ushijima wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Without thinking much about it, he pulled off his practice jersey.

Then…

He removed his soaked compression shirt as well.

“AHHHHH!”

The girls around the field immediately exploded into chaos.

“Hey!”

“Ushijima, you idiot!”

“Don’t strip on the practice field!”

Vice-captain Kuramochi shouted in exasperation.

Ushijima looked over lazily.

“Hm?”

As he answered, he casually twisted his compression shirt with both hands.

Splash!

Streams of sweat poured from the fabric.

Drip… drip… drip…

Everyone watching fell silent.

“…”

“…”

“That’s… an unbelievable amount of sweat.”

“No kidding.”

“I heard Ushijima’s daily workload is three times heavier than the team’s normal practice.”

“Twenty kilometers every morning.”

“Fifteen hundred swings.”

“Two hundred base-running sprints.”

“One hundred eighty pitches.”

“Defensive drills…”

“What?!”

“Fifteen hundred swings?”

“No wonder he’s the strongest hitter in Koshien.”

“And no wonder he shattered the tournament record with twelve home runs in a single Summer Koshien.”

“Before him, the record was only five.”

“Twelve is just ridiculous.”

“I also heard that after learning to pitch with both hands, he used to throw 180 pitches every other day.”

“Now he throws 180 every day.”

“He simply alternates between his left and right arm.”

“And Sundays are his only rest day.”

“That’s insane.”

“Most pitchers throw around 120 pitches in a complete game.”

“They usually need several days to recover afterward.”

“Otherwise they risk shoulder injuries.”

“But Ushijima throws that many every single day?”

“Even alternating arms…”

“That’s still unbelievable.”

“I heard he gets sports massages every Sunday.”

“And he also undergoes a full physical examination every two weeks.”

“They mainly check his shoulders, wrists, and ankles.”

“So far everything’s perfectly healthy.”

“If there were even the slightest sign of an injury…”

“Coach Kataoka would stop him immediately.”

Those conversations never reached the players on the field.

To ordinary people…

Ushijima’s physical condition simply defied common sense.

The reason was actually quite simple.

In professional baseball—especially in Major League Baseball—a team’s roster typically includes around twenty-five players.

Of those, nearly half are pitchers.

Usually, a club carries five starting pitchers, several relievers, and one closer.

The remaining players rotate through the eight defensive positions.

There was a reason teams invested so heavily in pitching depth.

An MLB team played 162 regular-season games over roughly six months.

That averaged out to about twenty-seven games every month.

To prevent injuries, each starting pitcher normally took the mound only once every five days.

Even then, managers closely monitored their workload.

A pitcher who reached eighty to one hundred pitches might be removed even if he was throwing well.

Protecting a pitcher’s arm was one of the highest priorities in professional baseball.

High school baseball, however, was completely different.

A team that reached every major tournament in a single year would still play only around forty to fifty official games.

Those competitions included:

The Spring Tournament

The Kanto Tournament

Summer Qualifiers

Summer Koshien

The Autumn Tournament

The Meiji Jingu Tournament

Spring Koshien

Even for a championship-caliber school like Seido, official games were spread across the entire year.

Winter brought a long offseason, with virtually no official competition.

On average, teams played only one meaningful game every week or so.

That lighter schedule meant high school teams generally didn’t need the same level of pitching depth as professional clubs.

Even so…

Most schools still relied heavily on their ace in important games.

Seido was different.

With Furuya, Sawamura, Kawakami…

And above all, Ushijima Wakatoshi…

Their pitching staff was one of the deepest in the nation.

That depth allowed Coach Kataoka to rotate his pitchers freely, keeping everyone healthy while ensuring the team remained competitive throughout the season.

It was a luxury that very few schools in Japan could match.

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