Diamond No Ace: The Strongest Hitter

Chapter 227: The Yakushi Battle (10)

"The Swing I Want"

That sunglasses-wearing old man really gave me a tough question.

I've never thought about this before.

Since I was a child, I've known that this body in this life is perfect—dynamic vision, reflexes, speed, explosiveness, strength, even spatial awareness—at a completely unfair level.

But this perfection has brought me endless troubles. I can't experience the same tension and excitement that others do.

Tch.

Why am I even thinking about this?

All this time, my batting has followed two patterns:

The first is like that scheming glasses-wearer—predicting pitches. The accuracy isn't bad.

The second is like Raichi's style—completely ignoring the game situation and letting my instincts take over.

The problem with the first approach is that if I guess wrong, my body's reaction will lag slightly, leading to a missed swing or an easy out.

The second approach, while lacking the power of a well-predicted hit, ensures I rarely miss or get out. I always manage to get on base, though sometimes in rather unorthodox ways.

Now that I think about it, my trick for hitting foul balls is based on the second approach.

That old man's words today made me realize something—maybe I can combine these two methods.

And I can't compromise on power either—slugging is the most enjoyable part of baseball, after all.

But how do I do it?

It's like trying to bridge the gap between instinct and logic.

Hmm…

As I analyzed the problem, I fell into deep thought.

"Wait a minute. These two methods aren't completely unrelated."

Dynamic vision.

Yes, that's it—dynamic vision.

No matter which method I use, everything starts with what I see—the pitch. The first approach relies on my brain to make decisions, while the second hands over control to my instincts.

So what if I think before swinging but leave everything to my body at the moment of impact?

Yeah…

I should treat my instincts and conscious decision-making like the relationship between a general and a commander.

That means, before the pitch, I tell my body how to react to certain types of pitches. If I encounter an unfamiliar pitch, I let my instincts take full control.

It's like…

"A general in the field doesn't always have to obey the emperor's orders."

Interesting.

I should give this a try.

My previous approaches always wasted part of my talent.

It felt like having a handful of great cards but only being able to play one at a time—never able to fully unleash my potential.

But now… heheh.

As the idea took shape, a mischievous grin spread across my face.

Sometimes, all it takes to open a new door is a single spark of inspiration.

The coach's words made me realize something I'd never considered before—an unconscious waste of talent, or rather, a passive suppression of my abilities every time I stepped up to the plate.

And after spending months observing me, Coach Kataoka had pinpointed the issue from an outsider's perspective.

Those months of 'free-range training' weren't for nothing.

As a bystander, he couldn't solve the problem for me, but the key difference was—I was smart enough to figure it out myself. I just needed a push.

So with just one comment, he might have just unleashed an absolute monster.

Of course, it still needs real-game testing and refinement.

But even without any practice, since it's my own body, applying this new approach won't feel foreign to me. In the moment I figured it out, I had already evolved.

And as I master switching between instinct and logic while refining my batting technique, my growth will accelerate even more.

At first, the change in batting average might not seem drastic due to different opponents and situational factors. But the fundamental shift is huge.

When this transformation reaches its peak, the difference will be night and day.

Though… I have no idea how long that will take.

At the very least, though, it feels like I've finally switched from a speed-limited road to the highway.

...

While I was lost in thought, Ryousuke had already battled through seven pitches against Sanada.

"You figured it out?" Coach Kataoka asked when he saw me finally lift my head.

"I have some ideas… but I really want to test it in a real game."

"Okay." Coach Kataoka responded nonchalantly.

But beside us, Yuuki had other thoughts.

BOOM.

Without a word, his aura exploded.

The sudden intensity sent chills down the spines of the senior players around him.

Ryousuke and Jun-san had no idea what had just happened on the bench, but seeing Captain's overwhelming aura, there was no way they could ignore it.

"What a dependable captain… does he really want to get on the field that badly?" Jun-san chuckled to himself.

"Just wait a little longer," Ryousuke thought gently.

Though there was a slight deviation from the original plan, Yuuki had successfully created the opportunity he wanted—giving Sendou a chance to test his new approach.

"So that's how you can use your aura?" Yuuki might be naturally dense, but Miyuki definitely wasn't. He immediately saw through Yuuki's intentions.

"Tetsu-san… seriously." Sendo felt like a brick had just hit him in the eye.

"Ooga!"

"Yahaha! Let's go on the offensive!"

The upperclassmen also shouted along, but what outsiders didn't realize was that this cheer carried a deeper meaning.

"Oh? You crying?" Miyuki leaned in close to Sendo and delivered the most ruthless remark.

"Cry your damn head off!" Sendo shot him a glare.

Even though he was good at controlling his emotions, he almost slipped up.

"Barely held it in."

"Weird…" Miyuki muttered under his breath.

He had always felt that Sendo was cold on the outside but warm inside. Sometimes his personality aligned with his expression, sometimes it didn't. Sometimes he was distant, sometimes he was passionate.

But no matter how he looked at it, Sendo should have been moved by this moment.

Refusing to believe Sendo's poker face, Miyuki trusted his own instincts—this guy was definitely faking it.

...

"Pop!"

"Ball."

"Four balls, walk!"

In the end, Sanada failed to trick Ryousuke with his borderline pitches, and Ryousuke secured a walk with his keen eye.

Come to think of it, Seidou's batting order had always been well thought out.

To be honest, Kuramochi's hitting wasn't great, but his speed locked him in as the leadoff hitter—all because of Ryousuke's presence.

Simply put, Kuramochi was like a lottery ticket—if he got on base, Ryousuke had more room to operate. If he didn't? No big deal.

Ryousuke, aside from his lack of raw power, was practically a perfect batter. With diverse hitting techniques and a deep understanding of how to mess with a pitcher's mentality, his on-base percentage was incredibly high.

Kuramochi was a wild card, and the third batter, the "Fox-Dog" senior, had a strong arm, solid batting, and a key trait—he rarely struck out.

If Ryousuke or Kuramochi got on base, he could reliably send the ball to the right side, ensuring base advancement. Even if he didn't get a solid hit, he would still move the runners forward—setting up Tetsu to clean up.

The fifth batter, Pudding-senpai, was another power hitter. In a single game, getting just one extra-base hit was acceptable. He was the perfect fifth batter—if he connected, it was almost always a long hit.

With this arrangement, Tetsu would almost always bat with a runner on second.

Then came the sixth batter—Miyuki.

Following him was the well-rounded Shirasu, whose placement was deliberate—to cover for Kuramochi's inconsistent hitting. Shirasu's batting ability was far above Kuramochi's—even Ochiai acknowledged that he was guaranteed to clear the bases.

Shifting Shirasu down in the order made the entire lineup flow more smoothly.

No matter who led off an inning, the result wouldn't be too bad, creating a positive cycle—which is why Seidou's lineup in the original story made so much sense.

Of course, it all fell apart against Narumiya Mei, who could strike out everyone except Tetsu.

But this time, things were even better—without Sakai dragging them down.

Now, with Ryousuke on base, Yakushi faced an extremely dangerous situation.

The cleanup hitter was coming up. And if they couldn't handle him, they'd have to face Sendo with multiple runners on base.

Sanada shot a deep glance at Tetsu as he walked out from the dugout.

Just like how Tanba looked at Raichi earlier.

Even if he had nerves of steel and wouldn't let it affect his pitching, that didn't mean he wanted to face Seidou's cleanup hitter with runners on base.

...

"Batting third, left fielder, Isashiki-kun!"

"Come at me, you bastard!"

"Hold on a bit, don't rush… your turn is coming soon."

Jun-san mentally reassured Captain Tetsu, who was itching to get on the field.

"Damn it, my heart won't stop racing!"

...

"Whoosh!"

"A straight… Shuuto."

Seeing the pitch, Jun-san's face contorted in concentration.

Absolutely cannot hit into a double play.

"Baka yarou!"

...

"Ping!"

"Did he really just pull that pitch to the right side? Is this guy for real?" Standing on first base, Mishima couldn't believe Jun-san's tenacity.

"Just get through, dammit!" Jun-san's face flushed red with embarrassment.

The ball landed in the infield.

"Pop!"

"Out!"

"Safe!"

"Nice bunt," Ryousuke "praised" in his mind.

...

"Batting fourth, first baseman, Yuuki-kun!"

As Captain Tetsu stood up, the substitutes in the dugout joined in with the band, beating on the loudspeakers.

"A man's world is his own; if compared to something, it's the star streaking across the sky!

Hit it out, Yuuki! Yuuki! Yuuki!"

...

"Coach, should we walk him?" A nervous staff member—probably the assistant coach or the baseball club manager—asked Raizou.

"What kind of nonsense is that? Do you think Sanada's the type to pitch properly after an intentional walk?"

"There's no choice but to settle this head-on… no choice but to fight it out."

By the time he repeated himself, his voice had dropped—resigned, but unable to back down.

After speaking, Raizou once again looked toward the on-deck circle, where Sendo was waiting, followed by Masuko and Miyuki.

"This lineup is way too unfair."

He had lost count of how many times he muttered those words.

...

"Now the cleanup hitter is up with runners on base—just like Yakushi in the previous inning."

"Two outs, runners in scoring position."

"And this time, the runner is on second."

From the sidelines, Owada's voice carried an edge of excitement.

"That's just how baseball works…"

What Mine Fujio didn't say out loud was—this was Yuuki, a third-year.

He wouldn't make Raichi's mistake.

...

"Damn… my heart is pounding… this is incredible."

Sanada felt no fear.

...

"Whoosh!"

"Pop!"

"Ball!"

"A first-pitch fastball on the outside corner… now for the second pitch."

The commentator's voice rose in pitch, feeding the crowd's excitement.

"Ping!"

"That shuuto… got hit."

"A base hit to center field! Now it's two outs, runners on the corners!"

"Tetsu-san… stop passing everything on to me, dammit."

Sendo quietly stood up.

Tetsu could have waited for a better pitch and driven in the run himself.

But he had chosen to set up his junior instead.

Trust. A helping hand.

And with a three-run lead, there was room to take risks.

"Batting fifth, center fielder, Sendo-kun!"

"Batting fifth, center fielder, Sendo-kun!"

"Keep it going, Sendo!"

"Go for it!"

The cheers surged as Sendo's entrance theme began to play, making the atmosphere even more electric.

"Shut him down, Sanada-senpai!"

"Take everything, you bastard!" From the dugout, Jun-san yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Thump."

Even in the chaotic noise, Sendo could hear his own heartbeat.

"Thump."

"This isn't nervousness. It's excitement."

"I haven't felt this in so long."

Two outs. Runners on first and third.

The perfect stage.

"I'll test everything in this at-bat."

For a brief moment, as they locked eyes, Sanada felt a chill.

"Something about him just changed… what the hell?"

But no matter what, his job was to shut him down.

...

"No need to guess the pitch. First, think about how to swing for certain types of pitches. Then, let my instincts remember it. The moment I see the ball, I'll minimize my brain's interference and swing freely. Alright… let's go."

After mentally running through the process one last time, Sendo was ready.

...

"We've arrived at a crucial moment—here comes the first pitch!"

The instant Sanada released the ball, Sendo exhaled.

"Ping!"

—

"Whoosh!"

In a flash, the ball hit the ground, giving the defenders almost no time to react.

"Foul ball!"

"This… actually works? Seems like my idea wasn't wrong. It's impossible to completely turn off my brain's control over my body, but I can blur the line between conscious thought and instinct. And this feeling… it's addictive."

Watching his own swing, Sendo felt an exhilarating rush.

...

"What the hell was that? My body couldn't keep up with the speed of that hit… Isn't this just like Raichi and that cleanup hitter from Seidou?"

Mishima, standing on first base, felt a chill.

"Wait… wasn't that an inside ball? Why the hell could someone with such long arms hit an inside pitch so powerfully?"

That pitch should have jammed any long-armed batter.

But Sendo showed no sign of struggling at all.

At that moment, Mishima suddenly understood why professional baseball bans metal bats.

And then, he realized something even more terrifying.

...

Sendo, with his long reach, should have a natural weakness against inside pitches…

But that weakness didn't exist just now.

Silently, Mishima added Sendo to his list of rivals that must be defeated.

And on that list, his ranking was exceptionally high.

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