A hush came over arena as both the crowd and players became silent. They watched the large frame of the Cuban slugger as he made his way out onto the pitch.
"Batting 4th, 2nd base, Jorge."
The sound of the announcer broke the silence, yet Ken didn't even hear it.
Everything seemed to fade away as he locked gazes with Jorge. Ken could almost see an intense aura surrounding the big teen, burning with determination and the will to fight.
However, Ken did not lose out. Jorge in turn saw the billowing fighting spirit surrounding his tall frame ahead of him. It climbed and sprawled through the air like an ancient tree, its roots firmly secured in the mound.
'Mika, please use Showdown on Jorge'
[Confirmed]
Ken felt his body heat up immediately, causing his muscles to swell slightly, filling him with immense strength. He felt a boundless energy overcome him, causing his lips to morph into a smile.
Jorge felt a shock run through his body as he saw the once firm and stalwart aura surrounding Ken explode. It was as if flames had ignited on each branch of the tree, painting a dreadful sight.
'W-What the hell is with this guy?' He thought, gulping subconsciously.
The palms which gripped his bat began to feel clammy and cold sweat began to creep down his back.
Suddenly, it felt as if he was fighting against a deity, a higher level being which threatened to snuff out his existence. Not once had he ever felt this sort of pressure from a pitcher.
It now made sense as to why his brother had performed so poorly. Who could possibly remain calm when standing within 60 feet of this monster.
WHOOOOOSH
PAH
"Strike!"
Before he knew it, a fastball flew right in front of his eyes, not giving him the time to react. He blinked a few times in disbelief, not knowing what had happened.
Yet his ears suddenly picked up a roar from the meager crowd. Despite being so far away from his position, he could hear the commotion.
"Holy crap! What a pitch!"
"101mph? Isn't he still a teenager?"
'What?' Jorge slowly moved his gaze to the jumbo screen and almost felt his soul leave his body as he saw the 3 digits staring back at him.
"Impossible… He can't be that fast" He mumbled in disbelief.
Yet as he turned his attention back to Ken on the mound, he felt different. The guy staring back at him was like a monster, his dreadful aura drilling deep into his soul.
'I can't hit it…' He said inwardly, feeling a hint of fear and dread well up from within him.
"Jorge. Take your position or I'll be calling a strike."
The sound of the plate umpire's voice entered his ears, snapping him out of his train of thoughts. Jorge hadn't noticed that he'd been staring at Ken with his bat resting on the ground for quite a long time.
"A-Ah, yes." He answered, lifting the bat and preparing for the next ball.
'This is no time to be thinking such thoughts. I just need to time my swing and I've got a chance."
Jorge gripped his bat tightly, trying to quell the fear which threatened to rise within him.
WHOOOOOSH
PAH
"Strike"
Despite swinging at the oncoming ball, he hit nothing but air. Due to the sheer speed of the throw, he had trouble timing the swing, resulting in another strike.
'Damn it! This is pathetic.'
A feeling of self-loathing crawled its way inside of him, attacking all of his inadequacies fiercely. It was as if he'd developed a trauma just from facing these two pitches.
'What top 10 prospect? I don't deserve such praise.'
From an outsiders perspective, Jorge was spiraling into despair. With his head lowered, he looked nothing like the confident and cocky teenager who had hit 2 home runs in the game so far.
The Cuban dugout was quiet. It was hard watching their best player appear like this in the batters box.
Manuel watched his brother, feeling as if something was piercing his heart. Throughout his whole life, he'd never seen his brother react in such a way against an opponent. It was as if he was scared and defeated.
He grit his teeth and balled his fists, almost drawing blood from his palms.
"JORGE!"
At the sound of his brothers voice, Jorge snapped his gaze towards him, his expression like that of a drowning man who had found a lifeline.
"You can hit it! Just swing!"
Manuel's words echoed throughout the field, drilling into Jorge's mind. They fell upon his psyche like the desert rain, filling it with hope and life.
Suddenly, the entire Cuban bench began shouting out as well. There voices overlapped and mixed together, yet their message was similar to Manuel's, filled with trust and belief in his abilities.
The oppressive feeling that was weighing him down began to give out, little by little. With the encouraging words from his teammate, he was able to slowly stand up against the pressure Ken was giving off.
While he could still feel the dreadful aura from Ken, it no longer left him feeling hopeless.
'Thank you guys…'
Seemingly pulled out from the pits despair, Jorge straightened his back and gripped his bat tightly. He faced Ken with a stubborn and determined expression, not wanting to back down an inch.
'Oho, looks like he's recovered.' Ken thought as he moved the ball around in his glove.
"It wouldn't be fun otherwise." He muttered to himself.
He quickly got into his windup and sent the ball rocketing towards the inside where Daichi's glove was placed.
WHOOOOSH
DING
The sound of the bat making contact rang out on the field, right before the ball went whistling away along the ground and into the foul zone.
"Foul"
"Yeah! Nice work Jorge!"
Manuel pumped his fist, feeling his blood surge.
While a foul wasn't something usually worth celebrating, this one certainly was.