Chapter 353

Baseball after baseball was pitched with full force.

"Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!"...

Home run!

Home run!

Still a home run!!!

Even at Natsume Chikage's proactive request, Sano Sho gave it his all, throwing breaking balls from every angle—sliders, curveballs, forkballs...

But the result was, without exception, the same!

Every single one was blasted by that seemingly ordinary bat in the most domineering, perfect manner, turning into white meteors streaking across the sky toward the spectator stands!

The baseballs kept soaring high, tracing beautiful yet cruel arcs in mid-air.

The final ball, in particular, plummeted rapidly, aimed precisely at the spot where Konoe Hitomi had been sitting quietly in the front row of the empty stands.

Yet, Konoe Hitomi acted as if she didn't see it, not even lifting an eyelid.

At the critical moment.

The man in black, who had been standing silently behind her like a shadow, suddenly stepped forward half a pace, his arm lashing out like lightning to steadily catch the baseball—which was about to smash into the seat on her right—with one hand!

The movement was crisp, clean, and soundless.

Afterward, the man in black bowed slightly and gently placed the baseball, still carrying residual warmth and rotation, on the empty seat beside Konoe Hitomi.

Konoe Hitomi extended her slender fingers, picked up the baseball, and placed it in her palm.

Deep within her eyes, which were usually as emotionless as an exquisite doll's, a faint, imperceptible ripple slowly spread.

Her cherry-red lips parted slightly, uttering two barely audible words:

"Interesting."

At this moment.

Sano Sho, a former professional pitcher, was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The hand holding the baseball began to tremble uncontrollably.

Every time he raised his arm, it felt incredibly heavy.

He was even... afraid to throw the next pitch.

And Kuroda Keisuke, the well-informed former professional slugger and current elite coach, felt his knees go weak, causing him to collapse directly onto the dirt beside the home plate.

He braced his hands on the ground, head bowed, completely speechless, shocked by the scene unfolding before him that defied all common sense.

In all his years on and off the baseball field, he had never seen—no, never even heard of—anyone hitting over thirty consecutive home runs!

Neither in Japanese professional baseball nor in the holy grail of baseball, Major League Baseball, had there ever been such a record in history!

What's more, the one achieving this "miracle" was a complete novice who had only touched a baseball for less than an hour?!

A so-called genius, he feared, was merely the threshold to seeing him...

At this moment.

After this practical test that could only be described as a "crushing," Natsume Chikage already understood that continuing this basic batting training was completely unnecessary for him.

He exhaled softly and handed the bat back to Kuroda Keisuke, who was still in a state of petrification.

"Thank you for the coaching, I've really learned a lot this time. Let's meet again if there's an opportunity."

Kuroda Keisuke's lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to say something.

But the immense shock was like a boulder blocking his chest, leaving him unable to utter a single syllable, and he could only watch as Natsume Chikage turned and left.

Natsume Chikage nodded toward Sano Sho, who was still dazed on the pitcher's mound, expressing his gratitude from afar.

However, Sano Sho just stared at him blankly, having also lost the ability to speak.

Seeing this, Natsume Chikage paused for a moment, and in the end, could only turn and walk toward the spectator stands.

He walked up the steps of the empty stands one by one, finally stopping in front of Konoe Hitomi.

"There's no need to continue practicing anymore, right?"

Konoe Hitomi looked up, watching Natsume Chikage standing on the steps in silence.

A beam of light from the high windows of the venue in the afternoon happened to graze the boy's silhouette.

She remained silent for a long time.

Finally, her flat, waveless voice carried a rare, barely perceptible hint of complexity:

"I didn't expect that for you, a month... would actually be considered long."

"So," she paused, looking straight into Natsume Chikage's eyes, "when do you intend to go and end that match with Nakajima Satoshi?"

Natsume Chikage's tone was light yet firm:

"Tomorrow morning."