The New Coach Arrived Late

The New Coach Arrived Late

The third week of September marked exactly one month since Kōshū had joined the team, and he underwent another round of testing.

"Looks like you've been eating properly every day." Coach Yoshioka smiled. Kōshū had gained another 3 kg, reaching 70 kg. After several weeks of strength training, he had become much more solidly built.

"Of course. Otherwise, all that meat every day would've gone to waste."

Next came his pitching speed. With the boost in weight and physique, the results came quickly. "You can basically hold steady at 125 now. That's 2 km/h faster than the test two weeks ago."

"What do you think? I feel like I could finish the four-month, maybe even six-month plan ahead of schedule." Kōshū rolled his arm on the Pitcher's Mound.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You've only been at this for a month. It's too early to call anything stable. Besides, your body is still growing, so the form we fixed before needs to be monitored constantly." Coach Yoshioka brought out the camera they had used for testing last month. "Come on, let's record your current pitching form again."

"Okay." Kōshū had gotten used to the coaching staff's caution by now. Whenever he wanted to rush ahead, they were the ones who pulled him back.

The testing took up half the morning. For the remaining time, Hayakawa Aki caught for Kōshū.

"Kōshū, are you going to pitch or not?" Hayakawa stood up and looked helplessly at the person hovering around Shibasaki's test.

"Hayakawa-kun, relax." Senior Nozawa, who was still warming up nearby, kept glancing over between pitches.

"Nozawa Kai, if pitching in the Bullpen makes you uncomfortable, we can go pitch outside." Captain Ido struck a killing blow.

"Hayakawa-kun, Shibasaki-kun is an important part of our strength too. Aren't you concerned about his current condition?" When it came to shameless twisting of logic, Kōshū was unmatched. He stared intently at the fluctuating numbers on the scale. "66 kg. Not bad, Shibasaki-kun."

Coach Yoshioka also let out a breath of relief. "It seems that increasing dietary fiber over the long term can effectively improve digestion. Shibasaki-kun, although your body can now handle the current training intensity, this weight alone still isn't enough. You understand, right?"

"Yes. I'll eat a little more every day from now on."

"That's not what I mean. We mentioned your situation while speaking with the nutritionist recently. His recommendation is to increase your meals from four a day to seven. Even if you aren't hungry, you need to eat a fixed amount at every meal. I'll send the meal plan to your mother today. Please don't leave food behind."

"I understand." Shibasaki looked pleased, but there was a touch of bitterness in his expression. His appetite really was not strong enough. With four meals a day already, he sometimes had to force the food down.

"Seven meals a day..." Kōshū was calculating roughly when those seven meals would be eaten when Coach Yoshioka interrupted him. "Kōshū, everyone's situation is different. Shibasaki-kun has a weak stomach and can't digest too much food at once. Increasing it to seven meals will keep his digestive system working constantly, but this is the only option we have. Please stick to your own meal plan."

"Fine—"

"Next, pitching speed." This test did not make anyone happy. Shibasaki seemed to know it too. After throwing a few pitches, he said, "Still holding steady at 127."

"Mm, it's all right, Shibasaki. Your biggest problem is already being gradually resolved. I believe there'll definitely be results in a few months." Coach Yoshioka's reassurance worked. "Next, I'll record your pitching motion. Throw thirty fastballs and thirty Fast Cutters."

The Fast Cutter was the Cutter Shibasaki had thrown during his earlier showdown with Kōshū. Its spin resembled a Four-Seam Fastball, but it broke sharply just before home plate. Since the pitching motion was closer to a Four-Seam Fastball, it was also quite fast, reaching around 120.

Kōshū was extremely interested in that Fast Cutter and had secretly learned the pitching motion from Shibasaki. However, the coaches strictly forbade him from throwing Changeups, so he obediently stopped trying. Still, there was no harm in watching now.

"Kōshū," Hayakawa Aki's resentful voice drifted over from behind him. "Hurry up and pitch."

"I know." Kōshū could only turn around and get back to his actual work.

Hayakawa-kun adjusted his mask and gave a signal. Since Kōshū's fastball had initially stabilized, Coach Ninomiya had begun getting him used to the team's Signals. It looked like he wanted to truly put Kōshū to use. The pitcher across from him finally nodded and turned serious, beginning his pitching practice.

Their practice was done in sets. With Hayakawa-kun's glove staying in the same position, Kōshū had to throw fastballs with different spin rates into it. Hayakawa-kun's glove would not move during the process.

A High Rotation Speed Straight Ball dropped less, so he had to aim half a ball to a full ball below the glove. That was where his normal fastball would land. But what mattered most was the feel of each pitch at that moment. Differences in finger sensitivity and humidity could make every ball uncertain. So, to hit the exact center of the glove, Kōshū needed to make another adjustment at the instant the ball left his hand, in addition to aiming correctly at the start.

It was like a shooting game. His prey was the feel of the ball, and Kōshū's goal was to adjust his body to match it at the very end. Though the prey always appeared within a certain range, it only truly emerged at the moment of release. That was the final window for adjustment.

Naturally, after hearing Kōshū's theory about prey, everyone was somewhat dumbfounded. Even Coach Ninomiya added another key evaluation to Kōshū's file: "When he holds a baseball, it becomes a part of his body. Even at the instant of release, that remains true."

Smack— Hayakawa Aki only needed to catch one pitch to tell that Kōshū was in exceptional form. Come to think of it, does this guy ever have an off day?

"NICE! You're still in great form today."

"Haha, first point of the day."

This was another game between Kōshū and Hayakawa Aki. It had started as an offhand scoring system to test how familiar Kōshū was with the Signals. One correct pitch counted as one point.

Later, it became a little pitching game between the two of them. As long as Kōshū threw the ball completely into the glove, it counted as a point.

Eventually, even the coaches joined in. They recorded Kōshū's score every day. Scoring 55 points or more within 60 pitches meant "excellent condition," while scoring 45 to 54 points within 60 pitches meant "good condition." If the number of pitches was insufficient, it would be marked accordingly.

At present, Kōshū's condition chart only had those two ratings. But as his pitching speed increased and his pitch selection diversified, the score would definitely change. The coaching staff's job was to fully record his growth.

While Coach Fujii reviewed the First String pitching group, he also checked Kōshū and Shibasaki's test results.

Shibasaki's condition is gradually improving. By the time the team is reorganized next year, he should probably reach around 135. Combined with his sharp Changeups, he can absolutely serve as the Number Two Starter.

He looked again at Kōshū, who was loudly calling out numbers. As for Kōshū, he'll probably be our team's ace next year. Once his build reaches 76 kg, or even 80 kg, as long as he's guided properly, his pitching speed will soar too. Add in his batting ability, and next year's team will be built around him.

Thinking of the other coach who would soon arrive, he mused, Coach Ninomiya will probably have him guide Kōshū's batting. The team is still somewhat lacking in batting adjustments.

The person Coach Fujii had been thinking about was still waiting to board.

"Achoo—" The young man with Golden Hair sneezed violently.

"You okay? Did you party too hard last night?" the other person teased.

"What?" The blond-haired man abruptly leaned close to Ninomiya Haruno with a strange grin. "Don't you know whether I partied last night or not?"

But the other man was unaffected and continued nagging. "When we get to my dad's place, don't act so flippantly. He's a very serious man."

"Ugh, just thinking about seeing my old mom is irritating. She threatens me with being sick all day long."

"In the end, weren't you the one who chose to return to Japan? She's an old lady. Could she cross the Pacific to America and drag you back?" Haruno had heard Kinoshita Yanagi's complaints for what felt like the ten-thousandth time and did not spare him an ounce of sympathy.

"You cold-blooded bastard. Just like the blood of that Coach Ninomiya runs through you." Then Haruno slapped him across the back. The boarding announcement had already begun, and Haruno used the last moment to remind him, "Kinoshita, the club is your father's life's work. The ones still holding on over there are all old people now. You know their health conditions. Help out properly, understand?"

"Yeah, yeah. Then we welcome back Major League head coach Ninomiya Haruno, huh?" Kinoshita Yanagi still waved lazily behind him. He had only just finished three years as a coaching assistant in the minor leagues before being repeatedly called back to Japan. No wonder he felt so resentful.

Twelve hours later, the plane from America's West Coast arrived at Tokyo Airport in Japan. Kinoshita Yanagi had slept until his hair was a mess, and the roots, which had apparently not been touched up in a long time, revealed their original black color.

Tokyo was still the same Tokyo. In the taxi, Kinoshita Yanagi watched the familiar scenery and the many different people. The switch in language and the changed sights before him left him a little listless.

"Sir—sir—" The taxi driver looked awkwardly at his passenger. The car had arrived at a house somewhere in West Tokyo, but the tall man in the back had just turned over to face inward. His sleeveless shirt revealed his bulging muscles.

The driver did not quite dare wake him, so he turned and rang the house's doorbell instead.

"Who is it? Cough, cough." A frail yet gentle elderly woman's voice came through the intercom.

"Ah, hello. There's a passenger from the airport. He fell asleep in the back seat..."

"What! That little bastard finally came back!" Her suddenly booming voice made the intercom crackle with static.

The front door immediately opened, and an elderly woman with a kindly face rushed out. Her brows were tightly furrowed at the moment, and she still wore an apron. The spatula in her hand was steaming. Reaching the car door, she pressed the oil-hot spatula directly against Kinoshita Yanagi's bare arm.

"Ah—!"

Thump—!

"That hurts, Mom!" The hulking man curled up inside the car, kicking his legs to stop the old woman from shoving the spatula in again.

"Get out." The old woman ignored his cries. Instead, she put on a kindly expression. It was clear she took good care of herself, with no strange wrinkles on her face. When she smiled, her eyes curved into crescents. Her smile must have been beautiful when she was young. "Driver, how much is it?"

The driver tremblingly accepted the money. He did not even dare check whether the car had been dirtied, quickly leaving this place of trouble.

"You—come inside!"

"Sigh—!"

With a long-drawn-out sigh, Kinoshita Yanagi stepped into this home again after two years.

This was the last saved chapter. Time to go in without a backlog.

I've been busy with work presentations all week, and mine is first tomorrow. So miserable.

But once the presentation is over, I can start writing normally again.