The stadium lights blazed on as darkness completely enveloped the sky.
"Shuttle sprints—twenty rounds!"
Rinichi took off running, the words "twenty rounds" echoing relentlessly in his mind.
Just one round had already left him exhausted.
"Break for 90 seconds. Go, Kamishiro," said a senior holding a stopwatch.
Ninety seconds felt like barely enough to catch his breath. But he still took off running again.
Just when he thought it was over, the senior added, "Base running drills—one hundred laps!"
Rinichi's expression drained of color. He genuinely felt might be the end of him.
After only a few laps, he was soaked through like someone had dumped a bucket of water over his head.
He bent over, hands on knees, gasping for breath.
His fellow first-years, Haruichi and Furuya, didn't look any better.
Eventually, the three of them clumped together.
"No slacking, first-years!" barked a senior.
"Get moving!" the stopwatch-wielding senior urged again.
Gritting his teeth, Rinichi forced himself to keep running.
"Let's go, Kamishiro!"
At the command, his legs moved on their own—even though he wanted nothing more than to collapse.
Now he finally understood what Miyuki meant when he talked about "hell training."
This was the kind of training that could actually kill someone!
Rinichi ran with everything he had, pushing past second base.
And to think—they had to keep this up for a whole week.
He crossed home plate for the last time, his vision blurring and darkening from the exertion.
"Alright! That's it for day one!" Coach Kataoka finally declared.
Rinichi felt like he'd just been saved from the brink of death.
"Now! Twenty laps around the field! Everyone, stay sharp—count out loud as you run!"
That final line crushed any hope he had left.
Not only did they have to run—they had to shout, too?
Rinichi barely had the breath to run, let alone yell. He lagged behind at the tail end of the pack.
Also bringing up the rear? Two other first-years.
Meanwhile, the upperclassmen were still going strong, voices booming and legs moving.
By the time they finished the grueling twenty laps, Rinichi nearly collapsed to the ground.
It wasn't until he was soaking in the hot bath, his muscles finally relaxing, that he let out a deep, satisfied sigh.
Heaven. That's what this feels like, he thought happily.
Although… Coach Kataoka was soaking in the bath with them.
Everyone looked a bit uncomfortable and had gravitated toward the far edge of the tub.
As the heat loosened his muscles, a deep wave of fatigue swept over him.
Rinichi was certain—tonight, he'd sleep like a baby.
And indeed, the moment his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.
Day two of the training camp.
Rinichi had never struggled this much to get out of bed.
Every inch of him ached.
Especially his calves.
"Get up already. How long are you planning to lie there?" Kuramochi called out.
He's probably worried I'll try to slack off again, Rinichi thought.
He quickly got up, changed, and followed the two upperclassmen out.
After 200 swings, fielding practice, and running drills—all on an empty stomach with no breakfast— Rinichi felt like his limbs had turned to jelly, and his stomach was growling loudly.
By the time he got to the cafeteria, scarfing down three big bowls of rice was no problem at all.
He shoveled rice into his mouth like a machine.
But after eating, they still had to attend class.
It was the first time Rinichi had ever hated class this much.
I want to go back to the dorm and sleep. I want to go back to the dorm and sleep. I really want to go back to the dorm and sleep…
As he hypnotized himself with that thought, he slumped over his desk.
Kanemaru Shinji poked him in the back with a pen, waking him up.
"Kamishiro, don't fall asleep again or I'll report you to the upperclassmen. I was told to keep an eye on you," he warned in a hushed voice.
This hellish training continued until the fourth day. Since the first day, Rinichi hadn't thrown another pitch—and it was even worse for Furuya, who hadn't pitched at all.
Now in fielding practice, Rinichi had developed a reflex—he caught the ball and instantly made sharp, accurate throws without even thinking.
Before, he had to think before reacting. Now, his body moved on its own and made the right decisions.
"Nice throw, Kamishiro!" one of the upperclassmen praised.
Rinichi finally tasted the sweet reward of training.
Evening practices were still brutal, always ending with 20 laps.
By the end, the three first-years were sprawled on the ground, unable to move.
"Carry the first-years off!"
After a short rest, Furuya still went to find Miyuki-senpai to throw.
Rinichi thought about it… then decided against it. Better to get back and rest early.
But right after he showered and returned to the dorm, Kuramochi dragged him to Miyuki's room to play video games.
And somehow, while playing games, he ended up playing chess with captain Yuuki.
Seeing Miyuki also there, he blinked: "Didn't Furuya come looking for you to pitch?"
"He'll be here soon," Miyuki said with a mischievous grin.
Ah, so Furuya's pitching session got completely derailed. Poor guy got tricked.
Though… why was Masuko-senpai sleeping here?
Rinichi was speechless.
Sure enough, Miyuki slipped away, saying he was going to sleep in Maezono's room—and even righteously convinced Furuya to stay behind.
On the fifth day of training camp, Rinichi and Furuya were finally told they could throw in the bullpen.
But it wasn't Miyuki who would be catching—they had to pitch to instead.
Chris also told them there'd be a practice match on Saturday, and both of them would be pitching.
Both were excited, though for different reasons.
Furuya was thrilled to finally get back on the mound.
Rinichi was just happy the hellish training was finally ending.
To him, games were way easier than training.
He suddenly thought about the faces of batters he'd struck out in three pitches. The thought alone made him feel great.
Despite his sore body, throwing felt surprisingly good.
His pitch speed hovered around 148 km/h.
He wondered if he could hit 150 before Summer Koshien.
If not before, then probably during the actual tournament.
That was his thought.
At first, Miyauchi couldn't catch his pitches—he kept shifting his glove too much.
After a few throws, once Miyauchi steadied his glove position, he finally started catching them.
Looking at Rinichi with a surprised expression, Miyauchi's gaze changed completely.
Compared to Furuya, Rinichi's control was precise.
And his fastball had a strange kind of movement. With that near-150 km/h speed, how many batters could actually hit it?
Basically none, Miyauchi thought.
Rinichi didn't know what Miyauchi was thinking. He just knew the ball felt great coming off his hand—and that made him happy.
As expected, holding back from pitching for a while made it feel even better now.
Rinichi clenched his left hand and smiled faintly.
If you want to read 20 chapters advanced.