The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 63

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

Chapter 63
Dylan, the pitcher looking down at Soo-ho in the Batter’s Box, wore an expression of ease.
And with good reason.
In the first inning, he had already struck him out with his 99-mile fastball, hadn’t he?
‘The data is solid.’
The Catcher shared the same thought.
This guy was vulnerable to inside pitches and high fastballs.
His reaction speed wasn’t slow, but the trajectory of his bat made it unsuitable for attacking that zone—such was the Analytics Team’s conclusion.
So there was no need to complicate matters.
‘Throw your best pitch and shut him down.’
The Catcher flashed the sign: high and inside.
A pitch perfectly designed to shake the batter’s focus and induce a wild swing.
Dylan nodded and began his windup.
Whoosh!
The white sphere rocketed in like a bullet.
It was the exact same zone that had made Soo-ho flinch in the first inning.
Paul in the Stands unconsciously clenched his fist.
‘He has to hold back.’
That pitch would almost certainly result in a swing and miss or a foul.
There was no way to make solid contact with it.
And yet, a batter’s instincts always compel a response.
How could one resist when prey passes right before one’s eyes?
But then.
Crack!
Soo-ho didn’t move an inch.
He stood motionless in the Batter’s Box like a statue, his hands gripping the bat without the slightest tension.
“Ball!”
The Referee’s call rang out.
A ball that sailed high by half a pitch.
Dylan’s brow furrowed slightly.
‘He didn’t swing at that?’
In the first inning, he had definitely flinched.
Was it coincidence?
Or had his strategy changed?
The Catcher immediately flashed the next sign.
This time, a fastball—full and tight inside.
Crack!
A 99-mile bullet.
Again, Soo-ho held back his bat.
But this time, the pitch cut through the Strike Zone.
“Strike!”
The count stood at 1-1.
Thomas, observing the play unfold, tilted his head in puzzlement.
“Hmm… isn’t that a bit too passive? That pitch came right down the middle.”
But Paul’s assessment was different.
He pressed his pen firmly against his notebook, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“No. If anything, I’d praise him. He’s already established his own strike zone.”
The pitch had been a strike, but it fell outside the hitting point Soo-ho had established for himself.
Rather than forcing contact on a difficult pitch and grounding out, he boldly conceded one and aimed for the next opportunity.
This kind of judgment would have been impossible without the data he’d gathered from striking out in the first inning.
‘Smart kid.’
My instincts hadn’t failed me after all.
Paul inwardly exulted.
To see such transformation in a single day.
This was definitely worthy of a high score.
* * *
The count remained 1-1.
The pitcher on the Mound was beginning to grow irritated.
The rookie’s indifference to pitches he’d been certain were weaknesses grated on him.
‘Let’s see if he can handle this one too.’
The ball left Dylan’s hand.
This time, a 98-mile fastball that flowed slightly outward from the middle of the zone.
The easiest pitch to hit, but one that only a pitcher with supreme confidence in his velocity could throw.
Soo-ho’s eyes flashed with recognition.
‘Here it comes.’
The pitch I’ve been waiting for.
But Soo-ho didn’t lunge recklessly.
Most batters would tense every muscle and grip the bat with all their strength at this moment.
They believed that overpowering such a fast pitch required even greater force.
But Soo-ho did the opposite.
‘I release the tension.’
I let my shoulders drop.
I loosen my grip on the bat.
And.
‘I am a revolving door.’
I turn the axis of that door.
Just as Casey had advised.
The 98-mile energy from the pitcher’s throw rushed toward the revolving door.
Soo-ho simply positioned the bat in its path and redirected that force with a smooth motion.
As gently as possible. As naturally as it had always been.
Crack—!
But this time, the sound of contact was different.
It was a sharp, crystalline crack—like glass shattering.
“…What?”
The Pitcher turned his head.
Center field? No, right field?
But the fielders didn’t move.
They couldn’t even muster the courage to chase it.
The ball traced a towering arc, tearing through Arizona’s blue sky.
Boom!
A colossal home run that landed in the Outfield stands.
Even the Referee forgot to make the call, staring up at the sky in a daze.
The silence was broken by the sound of Soo-ho dropping his bat.
Clatter.
As the bat rolled across the ground, the roar that had been building finally erupted.
“Wow!”
Cheers in an unfamiliar language filled the Stadium.
Soo-ho began running slowly toward First Base.
His vision beneath the helmet swayed with an almost surreal intensity.
‘…It went over.’
Soo-ho lifted his head as he ran.
It felt strange.
The very fact that my hit had soared to such heights.
Back in Low-A, I’d hit nothing but ground balls day in and day out.
Of course, my exit velocity was faster than anyone else’s.
When I connected, it was a vicious line drive that struck fear into infielders.
But that was all.
The ball always hugged the ground.
No matter how hard I swung, no matter how far I wanted to send it, my hits couldn’t overcome gravity.
So at best, I managed infield ground balls or line drives that clipped the Fence.
But now, with barely any effort and just the right rotation, the ball soared skyward.
Soo-ho looked down at his hands as he rounded the Base.
The sensation lingering in my fingertips was nothing.
Gone was that persistent sting in my hands that came with every ground ball.
Something heavy surged up from deep within my chest.
It wasn’t simply the joy of scoring.
It was the sound of the shell called “Tick-Tock” that had bound me all this time, shattering into pieces.
And more than that….
This home run was my first since signing with the Dodgers.
‘This is exactly what I needed right now.’
Relaxing the tension was the only way to transfer true power.
Rather than forcing the ball upward, I had to let the rotational force snap it into the air.
This theory wasn’t difficult to grasp mentally, and my body had picked it up quickly.
Of course, this wasn’t my final destination.
Because if I ever made it to the Major League.
‘No. To produce results even next season, I need to build more strength than I have now.’
Could I swing with relaxed tension for my entire career?
That wasn’t realistic.
There was a reason all baseball players had such imposing physiques.
Ultimately, strength was necessary.
Of course, this approach was more technique than raw strength.
‘In the end, I need both strength and technique backing me up to become a better player.’
It was an immutable law.
Having multiple advantages rather than just one was always an asset in baseball.
‘Anyway, this is a good start.’
I’d proven I could hit for power.
For now, that was enough.
Ultimately, my goal in the Arizona Fall League was to elevate the ball off the ground.
Now that I’d done it once, I couldn’t claim perfection yet.
‘But I did it.’
And it wasn’t a double or a triple—it cleared the fence.
‘At least I can prove I have potential, right?’
* * *
I crossed Home Plate and stepped into the Dugout.
In that instant, a massive shadow engulfed me.
“Ahhhhh! You crazy bastard! You’re absolutely insane!”
It was Mark.
Unable to contain his excitement, he locked his arm around my neck and shook me violently.
“Gah. M-Mark. I can’t… breathe!”
But Mark paid no attention.
“I don’t care! Don’t care! That was a home run!”
Mark’s face was flushed crimson with excitement.
I’d softly guided an outside pitch into a home run.
For someone like me, overflowing with strength yet struggling to channel it, this was no small feat.
That’s how shocking and overwhelming the home run had been.
Mark’s rough affection was his highest form of praise for me.
Finally breaking free from Mark’s grip, I caught my breath and turned my head.
Casey stood there.
The prodigy who always observed situations with an expressionless face.
But now his eyes were trembling ever so slightly.
“…I held back.”
Casey’s gaze swept across my wrist and waist.
Jealousy? No.
It was pure wonder, and a burning competitive fire.
It couldn’t be otherwise.
To pull that off in one swing.
‘This guy really is a genius.’
After that, Casey adjusted his helmet and moved to the Batter’s Box.
The moment he stepped in, he pressed his spikes firmly into the dirt ground with sharp, deliberate stamps.
Crunch.
A grinding motion, as if scraping the earth with the soles of his feet.
It was a habit that emerged whenever Casey felt confident.
My home run had awakened the dormant instincts of a true prodigy.
‘I’ll show you what I can do.’
The moment Casey stepped into the box, the Pitcher’s breathing grew rough and ragged.
‘He’s furious.’
Casey fidgeted with the brim of his helmet.
In a situation like this, a Pitcher’s options were predictable.
He would want to verify that his body mechanics weren’t the problem.
So he wouldn’t bother throwing complex breaking balls to avoid contact.
‘Instead, he’ll try to overpower me.’
To prove that the home run he just gave up was luck, he’d want to jam a more powerful fastball inside.
‘High fastball.’
Casey’s eyes gleamed.
It was the course an angry Pitcher would throw nine times out of ten.
Casey gripped the bat tightly.
Soo-ho had shown me.
The theory was indeed flawless.
So there was no way the original creator couldn’t do it.
The Pitcher began his wind-up.
The ball left his hand, its white stitches spinning as it hurtled toward the plate.
‘Just as expected.’
High.
A threatening fastball that rose past the chest and climbed to face height.
A normal batter would have whiffed or instinctively flinched away.
But Casey didn’t retreat.
Instead, he twisted his lips into a smile, as if he’d been waiting for this.
Casey’s left foot dug firmly into the ground.
Simultaneously, his hips rotated like a spinning top.
At the apex of his torso rotation.
The bat ferociously dug into the underside of the ball.
Crack!
A crisp, sharp report echoed through the stadium.
The Pitcher’s head snapped around in alarm.
But the ball was already soaring far beyond his line of sight.
Higher, ever higher.
The ball climbed to a dizzying height, then descended along the same arc I had traced, embedding itself in the upper reaches of the Outfield stands like a twin to my own shot.
Back-to-back home runs.
First me, now Casey.
It was the moment we completely shattered the Triple-A Pitcher’s spirit—a player from a level far above our own.
Casey didn’t even watch the ball’s trajectory.
As if the result were inevitable, he tossed his bat aside and walked toward First Base.
Rounding Third Base, he flicked his chin toward me standing in the Dugout with my thumb raised.
There’s an old saying: too many boatmen steer the ship up the mountain.
But when geniuses with aligned vision converge, the story changes.
Their ship doesn’t sail up the mountain—it soars beyond it, ascending into the heavens themselves.
An ancient proverb: two hands make light work.
But it meant far more than simply making the task easier.
When two geniuses combined their minds and bodies.
Even the formidable fastballs of a superior league pitcher became as light as tissue paper.
* * *
Mark stepped into the Batter’s Box next, licking his lips.
The Pitcher on the Mound had already lost his spirit.
His mental fortitude shattered by me, then finished off by Casey—what more could be expected?
His eyes had lost all focus.
‘Whatever. I don’t care anymore.’
The pitch the Pitcher threw required no thought—a flat, middle-of-the-plate mistake.
A ball practically begging to be hit for a home run.
Mark didn’t hesitate. He swung with full force.
Crack!
The sound itself differed from the previous two—a heavier, more resonant quality.
Mark possessed raw power that surpassed both Casey and me by nature.
The ball soared impossibly high and disappeared entirely beyond the Stadium’s confines.
A grand slam. In terms of distance alone, Mark’s was undeniably the most dominant of the three.
But.
‘Hmm.’
Mark circled the Ground, his expression oddly dissatisfied.
Even after touching the bases and entering the Dugout, he didn’t join the cheering teammates—instead, he collapsed into a chair in the corner.
Deep sighs escaped him.
‘Sigh. It should feel good, but somehow it doesn’t.’
The reason was crystal clear.
Soo-ho had shattered the wall, breaking the spirit of the pitcher at his freshest.
Casey had masterfully handled even the high fastballs thrown by a pitcher seething with frustration.
But what about him?
Wasn’t everything I did just picking up scraps—mistakes from a pitcher who was already falling apart?
‘I feel like I just rode on their coattails….’
Even though I’d hit the ball the farthest, the unease wouldn’t fade. I kept my eyes fixed on the ground.
Someone approached and draped an arm across my shoulder. It was Soo-ho.
“Mark. Don’t be discouraged.”
“…Wouldn’t you be, if you were me?”
As Mark pouted his lips, Soo-ho chuckled softly and gestured toward the ground with his chin.
“Look at that.”
Where Soo-ho’s finger pointed.
Standing in the Batter’s Box was Liam, the cleanup hitter.
But he was a mess.
Boom! Boom!
The three batters before him had all hit home runs.
Unable to withstand that pressure, Liam was wound tight with tension.
He swung wildly at pitches nowhere near the strike zone.
A desperate, windmill swing that only cut through empty air.
He’d completely lost his composure.
“Strike three! You’re out!”
With the Referee’s call, Liam dropped his bat with a hollow expression.
Watching him, Soo-ho leaned close to my ear and whispered softly.
“Serves him right.”
My eyes widened.
Then.
“Pfft!”
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
It was the first time I’d ever seen Soo-ho mock someone like this.
‘Though I’m not sure if “serves him right” really counts as mocking.’
It was something anyone could say.
Besides, Liam wasn’t someone who’d picked a fight with us first.
Still, it was surprising.
Soo-ho had such a pure-hearted nature.
Anyway.
‘Yeah. So what if I rode on their coattails a bit?’
At least I was a hundred, a thousand times better off than that cleanup hitter striking out on wild swings over there.
“Hehe. Right? He really choked.”
Mark giggled and patted Soo-ho’s shoulder repeatedly.
Most importantly, Soo-ho finally got the ball in the air and hit a home run.
Casey also proved why he was a genius.
And I launched a grand slam over the fence, while that unlucky competitor struck out.
‘These are players from the upper leagues, after all.’
Mark leaned back against the Dugout chair with a broad grin.
Now that I think about it.
Could there be another day in my baseball career as exhilarating as this?

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————