The First Changeup

"...That was it. I only shifted a few seams. The arm swing and release were exactly the same as a fastball; only when flicking the ball did I put a little more force into my middle finger. Every pitcher's hand is different, so it might need adjustment."

Hayakawa Aki silently watched the pitchers discussing things with their backs to him in the distance. He had been standing there for five minutes already, yet not a single pitcher had acknowledged him. Could it be that I've turned invisible? So they can't see me? Hayakawa Aki complained helplessly in his heart.

"I feel like it'd get mixed up with a fastball." Kōshū gestured a couple of times, while Sato nodded beside him.

Coach Fujii had just left when Shibasaki said uneasily, "That's why I'm saying, if your fastball isn't stable yet, you can't learn other pitches. Did Coach Ninomiya really let you learn a Changeup?"

"Don't worry, don't worry. I asked him yesterday. It's basically fine."

"What does 'basically fine' mean?"

"It means it's fine."

Shibasaki uneasily corrected Kōshū's grip again. Across from them, Hayakawa Aki dragged out his words. "Are you doooone?"

Since the other backup catcher had gone off with Coach Fujii, only one younger catcher about to move up to junior high remained. That left Hayakawa Aki as the only one at the Bullpen who could catch pitches.

"I'm coming, but it's my first time pitching to a catcher. I don't even know where it'll go."

"Okaaay—" Hayakawa Aki grumbled inwardly about these willful pitchers. He was supposed to let them throw balls at him when even they did not know where the pitches would go? These pitchers, honestly...

Then he saw the pitcher across from him smoothly lift his leg, stride forward, and release the ball, just as usual.

A fastball? The rapidly spinning ball left a trailing image, with horizontal seam shadows visible in it.

Where is this pitch headed? Does he only have control over his fastball? In that lightning-fast instant, Hayakawa Aki's glove began moving left.

But unlike Kōshū's usual fastball, which Hayakawa Aki had watched for two months, he keenly sensed that the spin axis was tilted. As the ball neared Home Plate, the tilt in its axis suddenly carried the entire ball toward the outside corner for a right-handed batter, while dropping slightly as well.

What? Under everyone's astonished gazes, Hayakawa Aki's glove barely brushed the edge of the ball. Before he could secure it, the ball fell.

"Hiss—" Kōshū was the first to suck in a breath. "Why did you move your glove? I threw at your glove!"

"Huh? Didn't you say you didn't know where it would go?" Hayakawa Aki's tense shoulders relaxed. He had thought he was going to miss it completely.

"Yeah, so I didn't throw at your glove. It was probably to the left, about a third of a glove's width away. I figured after it broke, it would land right at your glove." Kōshū made two empty throwing motions on the Pitcher's Mound, searching for the feeling from just now.

Only after two seconds did he notice the silence around him.

"What's wrong?" he asked strangely.

"Senpai, can you control where it goes on your first Changeup?" Sato stepped forward and suddenly rubbed Kōshū's hand for no apparent reason. "Lend me some of that."

"Sato... what are you doing?" Kōshū stared at the bright-eyed Sato, a chill running down his back.

Even Shibasaki took the chance while the two were fooling around to step forward and imitate Sato, "borrowing" some of Kōshū's talent. Hayakawa Aki finally pulled him away.

"Kōshū, last time the break was about one and a half balls' worth. This time, my glove won't move, so get your feel right. Keep the same amount of movement. I don't want to get hit." Hayakawa Aki set his glove at the inside corner for a right-handed batter. "And if you miss badly, you might walk the batter outright."

"Okaaay—" Kōshū complained about the pressure Hayakawa Aki was putting on him. He aimed about one and a half balls farther inside than the batter's inside corner, then used the pitching motion he had practiced enough over the past two months to throw the second pitch.

Hayakawa Aki resisted the urge to move his glove. Only when he felt the solid impact of the ball in the center of his mitt did he let out a breath. "NICE BALL! Again!"

By the time Coach Fujii returned, half of Kōshū's eighty-pitch limit for the day had gone to Changeups.

"Didn't we say you'd practice Changeups after the physical test?" the coach said with a headache. These kids had far too many ideas. They were practically wearing down the floor outside Coach Ninomiya's office.

"Ah—it was said that way, but I don't think there's any need to wait for the test anymore. My weight has reached the target, so has my velocity, and my fastball and pitching form have both settled down." Kōshū imitated Hayakawa Aki's easygoing laugh, seemingly unaffected at all by the troubled coach. "Besides, isn't there another practice game this weekend? I want to give everyone a little surprise."

"Ah—then let me see it." Then he turned to Sato, who had been watching the whole time. "Sato, aren't you going to practice?"

Sato turned around in surprise. "Shibasaki-senpai, when did you..." Shibasaki, that dark horse, was already practicing catches and throws with the little catcher. Hearing this, he turned back and smiled. "Nakajima hasn't officially moved up to junior high yet, so let this senpai with the slowest velocity help him get used to it."

Sato still wanted to say something, but he felt Coach Fujii's resentment again. He was not Kōshū. During this time, he had truly cost the coach a great deal of energy and time.

The reason was that he lost control over his pitches in the latter half of his outings. Coach Fujii had been searching for the issue in his pitching motion, and after comparing his form from earlier and later in his pitching, he finally discovered that the angle of his torso's tilt changed slightly.

Normally, when a pitcher twisted his body to face Home Plate, his torso tilted slightly outward in order to bring his throwing arm, which lagged behind, through the motion. The angle formed with a vertical line was generally between ten and twenty-five degrees, creating room to add velocity.

In the latter half of his pitch count, Sato's body tilt became slightly greater. It was a bad habit he had developed when he was young in order to force more velocity. It had been corrected after he joined Kinoshita Little League, but once his stamina declined and he still wanted to maintain his velocity, that subconscious habit resurfaced. His body unconsciously tilted a little farther. Though it was only a little, it still disrupted his entire motion chain and eventually made his pitches hard to control.

Coach Fujii sent Sato off to pitch with a look, then turned to Kōshū and nodded. "Throw."

The moment the first pitch left his hand, Coach Fujii, who was accustomed to Kōshū's fastball, sensed something different. Hayakawa's glove didn't move at all. Then he watched the ball break sharply and dart into Hayakawa Aki's glove as if it had eyes.

"Can you already control the accuracy of your Changeup?" Rather than suspect Kōshū of secretly practicing on his own, Coach Fujii chose to believe in his talent.

"More or less. I have a vague feel for it, but I still need more practice."

"Does anything feel awkward in your pitching motion?" Coach Fujii still had to consider the effect on his pitching form.

"Not at all."

"Alternate between fastballs and Changeups in a moment. I'll record it with the camera." Wary of a beginner, Coach Fujii still needed to keep a close eye on things. Once bad habits formed, they were difficult to eliminate, just like with Sato, who would need a long time later to correct them.

After several dozen more pitches, Coach Fujii called a stop to Kōshū's pitching. Unable to help himself, he clapped his hands. "Not bad. Just judging by the naked eye, this pitch is already blending very well with your fastball."

That really was incredible talent. God was so biased. For children He did not like, it was not enough to close the door—He even sealed the window. But for children He liked, He fed them by hand, afraid they might go hungry.

In the bustling Bullpen, Shibasaki felt as though his brain had been submerged in ice water. It felt as if the water were pressing down on him, suffocating him. He had clearly told Kōshū before that he understood his own path for the future, so he was not jealous of anyone at all. He had said such admirable things, yet watching someone instantly integrate the pitch he had taught him and use it even better still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jealousy is ugly. Envy is completely useless. Shibasaki repeated it silently to himself more than ten times before slowly returning to normal. Yet the thoughts that had persisted for so long did not stop. How can I make my pitching more useful?

That evening, Coach Ninomiya's office was exceptionally lively. There were even people lining up to get in. Kōshū leaned against the stairwell entrance, looking as though he had been standing there for a while.

He pointed upstairs. "Shibasaki-kun, are you here to see Coach Ninomiya too? Lang Zhi is in there right now."

"Lang Zhi?" Shibasaki leaned to the side alongside Kōshū. "What's going on?"

"He wants to get a training plan from Coach Ninomiya, so he can get into Seido as a sports student." Kōshū shrugged and said helplessly, "His studies are really not great. I've been tutoring him these past few days, and he's almost worn me out instead."

"Oh—you brothers are going together. That's nice."

"What about you? What are you seeing the coach for? You've looked distracted all day."

"Mm—although I haven't confirmed it with the coach yet, I might switch to a Sidearm Pitch." Shibasaki expected Kōshū to be shocked, but he would find out sooner or later, so he might as well say it.

"Eh—why?" Kōshū thought about it. Shibasaki was a left-handed pitcher, and adding a Sidearm Pitch on top of that would be like stacking buffs, making him extremely uncomfortable to face for batters. But why change now?

"Actually, Coach Ninomiya suggested I switch to a Sidearm Pitch before. I've almost stopped growing, and short pitchers are at a huge disadvantage, so I need to dig out every bit of potential I have. Now I've figured it out. If a Sidearm Pitch can increase my Deviation Value, then I'll do it." Shibasaki spoke with a touch of ruthlessness, making Kōshū feel more and more that beneath this friendly exterior was an incredibly tough heart.

Before they had exchanged more than a few words, the sound of a door opening came from upstairs. Lang Zhi came out, looking rather happy as he bounced along. The vibrations traveled through the stairs to Kōshū and Shibasaki.

The two of them: ...

Lang Zhi rounded the corner and was about to head downstairs when he saw the two leaning off to the side: ...

Lang Zhi regained his composure. Since he overdid it, though, he looked a little flustered. "Bro, why are you here? And Shibasaki-kun too."

This kid was so flustered that he had even called him "Bro." Kōshū sympathetically patted the kid's head. He did not embarrass him, merely made way for Shibasaki and gave him an encouraging gesture.

"Mm." Shibasaki smiled and headed upstairs.

"Hey—hey—why is Shibasaki-kun going to the coach's office too?" Lang Zhi, who had been dragged to the equipment room to pack up, kept asking without pause.

Kōshū got annoyed. He stopped and acted out Lang Zhi's earlier excited hopping, then dramatically shouted, "Bro, why are you here?"

"Ahhh—" Lang Zhi, collapsing in despair, no longer had the energy to ask about Shibasaki.

Work was like a roller coaster—so exciting. I hadn't complained about work in ages, so I'm continuing today.

The good news: our project finished first, and the bonus was 4,000 in total. I could probably get more than a thousand, but half has to be left for the department's team-building fund, so I'll only end up with a few hundred. That's fine too. It's free money anyway.

The bad news: when revising today, I deleted something. Basically, the boss thinks our workload isn't full enough, so they want the department to launch projects and report every two weeks. Everyone involved yesterday broke down, me included. I wrote half a page of insults about the boss in my diary, lol.

Last night, I watched some touching videos and had a good cry. Only after getting all that emotional waste out did I start writing. I sincerely recommend this method of release. It's very efficient. Don't let pride stop you—forget that nonsense about men not crying easily. If you need to cry, cry!