Chapter 11
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Left-Handed Pitcher Equips Velocity
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0-3.
Top of the fifth, completely outmatched, one out and bases loaded.
"Ah..."
"I wanna go home..."
The fielders' focus was shot, and defeat hung heavy in the air.
The worst part? Gyeongin High's top two hitters by average—their table-setters—were waiting on deck.
"This game's gonna blow wide open."
Seomun High players sensed the massacre coming.
But then.
"Swing, strike three!"
The new pitcher, Song Hyun-jun, struck out Gyeongin High's best hitter on a full count.
"Huh?"
Seomun High fielders snapping back into the game.
One out left in the jam. As their concentration peaked, Hyun-jun fanned the #2 hitter on another full count.
"Swing, strike! Batter out!"
The umpire's booming call echoed alongside the Gyeongin #2 hitter's bitter chuckle at his own absurd whiff.
"Haha... what the hell? How do you even hit that?"
Gyeongin High's batter stood frozen like a statue at the plate.
Seomun High fielders hustled past him.
"Whoa! Hyun-jun!"
"Hyung! Full-count K?!"
"You see those Gyeongin hitters' faces? Hyun-jun hyung, your stuff was filthy!"
Bright smiles surrounded Hyun-jun.
When Park Jin-woong had been on the mound, they'd battled over 100 pitches in four innings, drained body and soul.
Hyun-jun had flipped that grim mood in just six pitches.
The hero they needed stepped up and held the line.
Smirk.
A grin brimming with confidence.
Hyun-jun flashed it at his teammates and spoke with total assurance.
"I'll hold 'em."
"Huh?"
"These Gyeongin hitters? I'll shut 'em down."
"Oh...!"
"That's what pitchers do, right?"
Not just words.
Hyun-jun meant to win this game.
First start back in a year... turning a blowout into a comeback? That'd be badass.
Manager'd see me for real.
Not some test-drive guy, but a true mound guardian.
Less than a year left in high school ball.
To snag pro draft stock, he had to fill the regular-season stats he'd wasted as a first- and second-year.
"But... Gyeongin dugout won't just sit there, huh?"
Heading back to the Seomun dugout with his teammates, he glanced across at the enemy bench.
Gyeongin High's dugout sprang to life.
"New pitcher, Song Hyun-jun! Spill on him."
Gyeongin High's leadoff hitter, Park Hyun-woo.
After whiffing in three pitches and trudging back, Coach Kang grabbed him on the spot.
Under the coach's urging, Park shared his firsthand take on Hyun-jun's stuff.
"Two curve types."
"Sure?"
"Yeah. Slow curve, power curve. Both patterns sneak up on you—tough to adjust."
Even the velocities backed it up.
Hyun-jun's first curve clocked 109 km/h, but the second—same type—hit 126 km/h.
Park had whiffed on that power curve.
"Contact?"
"Not right now. Power or slow. The slow one drops like it's thrown from the upper deck."
"Hmm..."
"Power curve flies the same as slow until late. Swing for slow, and you're half a beat late."
Park Hyun-woo, who'd faced it head-on.
He gave it straight.
"Curves alone? Pro level."
No sooner had he finished than the #2 hitter, Seong Jin-sik, struck out on a full count and returned.
"Ah...!"
A dazed look on Seong's face.
Sensing the upset, Coach Kang asked.
"Song Hyun-jun. How was it?"
"Curves... not high school ball."
Same verdict as Park.
Seong stuck out his tongue and laid it out honestly.
"His delivery's so weird, timing's a nightmare."
Park Hyun-woo chimed in.
"Fastball or curve, identical motion."
Same motion across pitches.
Coach Kang knew exactly what that implied.
"Can't tip the pitch from habits."
"Right. Gotta read trajectory mid-flight."
Coach Kang pieced together Park and Seong's intel.
Something clicked, and he asked Park.
"Fastball?"
"Fast, but hittable."
"Yeah? Definitely, 145 km/h ain't unhittable."
"Right."
"So choke his offspeed. Fastballs only."
Coach Kang nodded.
Time to switch—fielders to the grass. Quick call needed.
"Listen up. We're ahead."
He rallied the troops, stoking their fire.
"Our mound's got Sa Seung-jun!"
"Ah..!"
"Sa Seung-jun shuts down Seomun hitters. Play like we trained. Nothing's changed."
Sa Seung-jun.
Coach felt it deep.
The sheer power of a national ace on your staff.
Seomun High? Their ace, Shin Su-ho, sidelined by injury.
"No Shin Su-ho for Seomun now! Just pitch-around Park Jin-woong and one-trick curveball Song Hyun-jun!"
"Yes!"
"Cut his curves, hunt fastballs!"
He sent the players out, a deep smile on his face.
Confident.
Song Hyun-jun's stuff threw a wrinkle, but manageable.
"Seung-jun."
"Yes, Coach."
"Smash those Seomun hitters."
The order, laced with trust.
The nation's top lefty ace, Sa Seung-jun, grinned back.
"Yes!"
High school's premier southpaw strode to the mound, brimming with swagger.
"Song Hyun-jun, you won't pull that stunt watching Sa Seung-jun. Whole 'nother level lefty."
Just like Coach Kang's confidence, ace Sa Seung-jun took the hill.
Crack!!!
【153.4km/h】
"Strike one!"
Crack!!
【153.7km/h】
"Swing, strike two!"
Bang!!!
【154.0km/h】
"Strike! Batter out!"
Three pitches turned the Seomun leadoff into a screen door. Explosive heat from a lefty, no less.
"How the hell do you hit that? We in the majors?"
Seomun's leadoff hitter slunk away empty again.
Today's #4, Joo Min-ho.
Cleanup's feeble full-count whiff sank Seomun's spirits once more.
"Ah...."
Perfect through one out in the bottom of the fifth.
"Shit."
A muttered curse from the watching hitter.
Today's #6 in the order, Shim Chae-geun, gripped his bat and headed to the on-deck circle.
"Chae-geun."
"Huh?"
Hyun-jun called out.
"Hyun-jun, what? I'm busy. Gotta time up Sa Seung-jun's insane heat from on-deck."
Hyun-jun nodded at the lament and asked.
"Sa Seung-jun's fastball ratio's over 80% today."
"Stuff's on fire, so yeah. Scoot, lemme get that timing."
"Sa Seung-jun's heat better than Su-ho's?"
"What? Hell no! Best arm in high school? Our Su-ho, hands down!"
Hyun-jun nodded again.
"Right. But you've faced Su-ho's stuff in practice plenty—up to 158 max."
"Huh? Yeah?"
"You smoked Su-ho clean. Can't touch Sa Seung-jun? Doesn't add up."
"Huh... true?"
Hyun-jun raised his voice so the other hitters could hear.
"Same for everyone. Faced 158 km/h Su-ho heat? Sa Seung-jun's a joke. Right?"
"...Yeah."
"Think easy. Overthink, it's hard. Easy mind, it unravels."
He flashed a grin at his teammates and patted Shim Chae-geun's butt toward on-deck.
"Captain's busy, yeah?"
"Huh? Yeah, yeah."
"Game's on! Fight to the end! Go, Captain—fighting!"
Sending Chae-geun off lifted the dugout vibe.
"Okay, fighting!"
"Fighting!"
Habitual cheers rippled through.
Meanwhile, #5 hitter Lee Hoon whiffed against Sa Seung-jun too.
"Swing! Strike! Batter out!"
Another full-count K.
Sa Seung-jun, like clocking my two straight Ks from before, fanned two Seomun hitters in a row.
Honor, right?
Top national lefty giving me props.
"Made it big, punk."
Hyun-jun patted himself on the back, grabbed his glove.
Good pep talk for Chae-geun, but he didn't expect instant magic.
Just hoped his words sparked something for the hitters...
Crack!!!
Huh?
"Huh?"
"Ah?"
"It's gone!"
"Chae-geun homered! Crushed Sa Seung-jun's fastball!"
Him? Over the fence? Shim Chae-geun?
Fists pumped tight.
He'd yanked Sa Seung-jun's 153.6 km/h heat for a homer.
"Hyun-jun!!!"
Round the bases, then charged over roaring.
"Saw it? That's me, Shim Chae-geun!"
"Hell yeah, punk! Nailed it, Cap!"
Praising Chae-geun, the scoreboard flipped.
3-1.
Done.
Chae-geun dropped a bomb on the tightrope game.
"...Ah!"
Even Sa Seung-jun's perfect-game face cracked on the mound.
Crack!
He snapped back, popping up the next hitter—but it was an infield fly at least.
"Su-ho comparison? Sa Seung-jun's very hittable!"
Team mood shifting bit by bit.
Doable.
That's all it took.
To amp it further? Top of the sixth was key.
That's why he'd opened with something else against Gyeongin hitters braced for fastball or curve.
Thwack!
"Huh? Fastball... dropped?"
Gyeongin #3 flinched, then the ump called it.
"Strike one!"
Obviously.
Plunked dead-center zone for it.
The rattled hitter glanced at the gun.
【136.1km/h】
That velo? Even tougher read.
136 km/h outpaced his old fastball.
Easy to mistake for heat.
Thwack!
Before he recovered, pitch two sank low.
Thwack!
"Swing, strike two!"
Ridiculous check-swing, ump's second strike.
He'd tried to hold up, but it dropped way more than the first.
"...Forkball?!"
Hitter clocked it.
Second weapon after the curve: forkball.
But slower than the opener.
【127.1km/h】
Nearly 10 km/h off the first.
Pondering the velo gap on "same" pitch, Hyun-jun fired a high fastball next.
Crack!
"Ah...!"
Hitter yanked back late—whiffed on the low zone.
Fooled by the prior splitter-fork tease.
Struck out, he looked up.
【145.0km/h】
Four-seam fastball.
With their guard up for it, Hyun-jun fanned Gyeongin leadoff.
"..."
Gyeongin dugout deflated in an instant.
Yeah.
This is why you pitch.
"Forkball, huh..."
Gyeongin dugout scrambled, but whatever.
Just mix in one more.
"...Changeup this time?"
Pitcher throwing breaking stuff? Shocker.
Hyun-jun eyed the stunned Gyeongin hitters and kept firing.
Whiff on fork, freeze on changeup—strike.
High fastball K.
Strikeout. Another.
Next hitter. Then the one after.
"Swing! Strike—batter out!"
Hitter after hitter cycling through the box.
Innings piling up.
"...What?"
"How's he sequencing that?"
Panicked batter faces, dugout in overdrive.
Shut down another.
Next.
Another.
As time wore on,
Deep in the zone, a low, steady mutter escaped his lips.
"Next."
No runners reached.
Somehow, it was the eighth already.