Chapter 544

Seeing this magnificent National Stadium standing in the center of the metropolis again.

Natsume Chikage’s expression was inevitably a bit subtle.

The question that had been hovering for a long time surfaced in his heart again: How rich... is the Mido family?

The apartment building he rented, the Private Tsukikage Academy he attended, the real estate along the subway line he commuted on daily, and even the National Stadium in front of him, which countless top artists dreamed of holding concerts in as a symbol of their status in the music scene...

How come it feels like as far as the eye can see, a considerable part of the important real estate has the shadow of the surname "Mido" vaguely shaking behind it.

How many more undisclosed industries does their family own?

Where exactly is the boundary of their wealth and influence?

Konoe Hitomi stopped and looked back to see Natsume Chikage staring at the stadium in a daze, her beautiful but expressionless face without a ripple.

She reached out directly and poked Natsume Chikage’s cheek gently with her slender, cold fingertips.

"Are you done spacing out?"

Her voice was flat and waveless.

"Time to go."

Natsume Chikage withdrew his thoughts, feeling the cool touch remaining on his cheek; he didn't really understand why she liked poking his face so much, but he still nodded:

"Mm."

The two walked side by side toward the magnificent entrance of the stadium.

Just like last time, as soon as they approached, men in black suits, wearing headsets, and with solemn faces appeared quietly from nowhere, silently leading the way in front.

Led by the men in black, they passed through the access control that usually required complex procedures, entered the empty and echoing passage, and were unimpeded throughout the whole process, with all possible inquiries or inspection links invisibly omitted.

At this moment, in the center of the National Stadium, on that empty and flat lawn.

Two middle-aged men in professional sportswear and capable temperaments had been waiting here for a long time.

They were the two top coaches who had guided Natsume Chikage’s batting last time—Kuroda Keisuke and Sano Sho.

Unlike the calm and confident demeanor last time, at this moment, both of them had a trace of imperceptible nervousness and strong anticipation on their faces, their gazes drifting toward the entrance from time to time.

Ever since the "special teaching" arranged for the Mido family ended last time, they had thought their fate with that mysterious "A-kun" had ended, and that such astonishing talent might never be seen again.

Unexpectedly, after only half a month, the contact from the Mido family came again.

And this time, the request was to teach "A-kun" pitching.

The two’s impression of that "A-kun" could be described as unforgettable.

The batting talent the boy displayed in just one day was simply strong to the point of being heaven-defying and violating common sense.

Kuroda Keisuke could still clearly recall the boy with a slightly thin figure standing in the batting area, facing the high-speed incoming ball from the professional pitching machine with a calm posture.

And subsequently, the sharp sound of the bat cutting through the air, the white ball turning into one precise and violent arc after another, flying far out of the fence and falling into the depths of the stands.

Home run—consecutive home runs!!

That scene was like a brand, deeply imprinted in their professional memory; every time they thought of it, they were still surging with emotion, unable to believe it.

In their coaching careers, they had never seen a "monster" with such terrifying talent and such rapid progress.

That kind of innate batting sense, terrifying dynamic vision, and exquisite control of body strength, if placed in the professional field and polished systematically, would absolutely be a world-shaking genius who could be directly sent to the American Major League Baseball.

Of course, the two also knew clearly that with the Mido family represented behind "A-kun," the so-called professional baseball, Major League contracts, and even the huge salaries that ordinary people envied, were probably just "drizzle" and didn't matter at all.

But even so, thinking of being able to personally guide this boy who was perhaps the most terrifyingly talented person they could encounter in their coaching careers, Kuroda and Sano still couldn't hide the excitement in their hearts.

However, beyond the excitement, deeper doubts and professional prudence also emerged.

The two looked at each other and saw the same consideration in each other’s eyes.

"This time it's pitching..." Kuroda Keisuke muttered to himself, habitually touching his chin, his fingertips feeling the rough touch of stubble, "And it has to reach a professional level within a month..."

"Pitching and batting... are completely different things," Sano Sho crossed his arms, his brows furrowed deeply, forming a deep "river" shape, "This requirement... I'm afraid it's a bit of a difficult task."

They sincerely admired "A-kun’s" near-inhuman talent in batting.

The essence of batting lies in the judgment in a flash, extraordinary dynamic vision, and precise hitting with all body strength exploding at one point.

It is more like a kind of ultimate "reaction art" and "instant strength control art."

And "A-kun" is undoubtedly a genius rarely seen in a hundred years in this art, a natural "destroyer" standing at the top of the batting area.

But... pitching is different.

This is almost another world in baseball that is parallel to but completely different from batting.

Batting, in theory, all nine fielders on the field can serve as, relying on hard work and certain talent, and can always achieve something.

Even occasionally, luck, courage, and a moment of intuition can create incredible hits.

It can be said that everyone is qualified to stand in the batting area and try to capture the white ball flying over.

But the pitcher’s mound... not everyone can stand on it.

First is the body structure.

The innate flexibility and stability of the shoulder and elbow joints are like a ceiling, directly determining the upper limit of your pitching.

Not everyone is born to be able to withstand that kind of repeated, extreme whip-like arm-swinging power.

Second is the coordination of the whole body’s power chain.

From the back foot’s toe pushing off the ground to generate force, the force is transmitted through the lower leg, thigh, and the waist and hips twist rapidly like a tightened spring, driving the shoulders to rotate, and finally through the upper arm and forearm, like a whip tip, "flicking" the force precisely to the fingertips to release the ball.

This series of complex actions must be perfectly connected within a fraction of a second, like the most precise Swiss watch, with gears interlocking and fitting tightly.

Any link appearing with even a small lag or deviation will lead to a collapse in ball speed, a loosening of ball quality, and a complete collapse of control.

Furthermore, it is the invisible 'feel' and the deeply hidden 'baseball IQ.'

How to use the millimeter-level subtle touch and pressure changes of the fingertips to make the ball produce different rotation axes and speeds, thereby changing into thousands of different ball paths.

Fierce fastballs, sliders that drift horizontally, curveballs that drop suddenly, forkballs that disappear from the batter’s eyes.

At the same time.

You also need the patience of a hunter and the brain of a chess player to read the batter’s habits and weaknesses and conduct psychological games of pitch layout.

Therefore, a pitcher uses his brain and body together to pitch.

It is not as simple as just pitching.

A batting genius is not necessarily a pitching genius.

The neural types, muscle memory patterns, and even the psychological endurance requirements for pressure and failure of the two are vastly different.

Therefore, historically, "two-way" players who can reach the top hall level in both batting and pitching are rare.

Once one appears, it will inevitably be a legend remembered by the era.

Just like the person known as the strongest baseball player in history—Ohtani Shohei.

Both aspects are ultimate geniuses; he broke the high school record in high school and even entered the Major League, becoming a very dazzling player!

For the two.

A-kun’s talent in batting is the only one they have seen in their lives, which can be called a miracle.

It can even be said to be stronger than Ohtani Shohei!

But in terms of pitching... it is hard to say.

Because the time precipitation and experience accumulation required for pitching are far longer and heavier than batting.

A young seedling of a professional pitcher, from learning the correct actions, to strengthening special muscles, to polishing various ball paths, to accumulating actual combat experience...

Often requires several years, or even longer, of systematic polishing and thousands of repetitions to initially take shape and stand on the starting line of the profession.

One month?

Wanting to cross all thresholds from zero foundation and reach the professional pitcher level within a month... basically impossible.

The road of a pitcher is far narrower, steeper, and harder to forcibly cross with pure "talent" than a batter.

This is a real accumulation over time, a chemical reaction of sweat, time, and even a little bit of talent.

If they were given half a year to train A-kun, they might still hold a glimmer of hope and see some embryonic form.

But one month... it is really too short, so short that it seems like an unrealistic illusion.

Just when the two were shrouded in heavy clouds of doubt, three figures emerged from the passage at the entrance.

Kuroda Keisuke and Sano Sho immediately perked up, subconsciously tidying up the collars and hems of their coaching uniforms, standing straight with the most professional and respectful posture, their gazes burning toward that place.

They saw, guided by the men in black, the beautiful girl with a silent temperament but like an ice sculpture, and a boy with a slender figure and a handsome, calm face that seemed to come with a filter, walking in side by side.

The afternoon light happened to shine into the venue from the high glass windows, forming pillars of light, and the dust floating in the air danced in the light.

That light seemed to have magic, plating a layer of pale golden, hazy light edges on the outlines of the two.

Especially Natsume Chikage walking in the front.

The light fell softly on him, outlining his tall figure and beautifully lined profile.

Those calm eyes seemed to be filled with starlight in the halo, the already impeccable facial features were carved more three-dimensionally by the light and shadow, and the skin was fair to the point of being almost transparent.

A kind of clean, clear, yet distant beauty that didn't belong to the mortal world rushed toward them.

The two coaches looked from afar, even as middle-aged men with rich experience, their hearts couldn't help but sway slightly at this moment, secretly marveling.

They only felt that this "A-kun," perhaps the most impressive thing, was not that heaven-defying batting talent...

But this clean, transparent, ultimate beauty that didn't seem to belong to the mortal world.

Kuroda and Sano didn't dare to be the slightest bit negligent, immediately running forward synchronously and almost reflexively, then stopping at a position just right from the two, and with a standard and respectful, near-ninety-degree bowing posture, greeted in unison, their voices appearing exceptionally clear in the empty venue:

"Good afternoon, noble envoy of the Mido family."

"At the same time, we are deeply honored again to serve you, A-kun!"

Konoe Hitomi didn't reveal any emotion to the two’s overly respectful posture, as if she had long been accustomed to it.

But Natsume Chikage clearly wasn't used to being treated so solemnly, especially facing the coaches who had guided him before.

He immediately stepped forward and reached out to support them:

"Two coaches, please stand up quickly, no need to be so polite."