Bottom of the eighth inning. Seidou's turn to bat.
Ichidai Third had just finished their wild rally, but the mood in the stands remained tense.
Seidou's supporters roared themselves hoarse, demanding a counterattack.
To Ichidai's fans, that was like salt in an open wound.
The score was still 8–1. Both teams were national powerhouses, but today Ichidai had already lost face. To leave with just a single run against Seidou? After the game, they would be laughed at by every other contender.
And now, Seidou's people had the audacity to talk about counterattacking.
It was infuriating.
"Strike him out!"
"Show them, Manaka!!"
All their hopes gathered on Manaka Kaname.
Since taking the mound, the second-year hadn't allowed a single hit. His strong pitching had frozen Seidou's offense at eight runs.
Granted, he hadn't yet faced Seidou's "monsters," but his command and composure gave Ichidai's supporters something to cling to.
After all, Seidou and Inashiro already had their new Aces rising. As one of West Tokyo's Big Three, Ichidai couldn't fall behind.
On the mound, Manaka's eyes sharpened.
This wasn't his first showdown with Zhou Hao. Last time, Zhou Hao had crushed his pitch.
But this time—
This time will be different.
He had prepared for this. Back in practice games, when they had faced off as members of the second string, Manaka had known Zhou Hao was destined to make a name for himself.
But so was he.
"For two months, I've trained my lower body every single day. This time, I'll win!"
Manaka set his stance, fingers pressing into the seams of the ball, tongue tapping his upper palate.
He fired a sharp fastball.
It darted straight into the most uncomfortable zone for a hitter.
In Seidou's dugout, his teammates immediately recognized the location. They knew Zhou Hao's tendencies by heart.
"Smart."
"He picked the perfect spot."
They said it, but not a trace of worry showed on their faces.
Across the diamond, Ichidai's bench was restless. Their expressions betrayed unease, as if even they weren't fully convinced.
The pitch whistled in.
Zhou Hao tracked it the moment it left Manaka's hand.
Through the vision of his Sharingan, he saw everything—the speed, the break, the exact landing point.
Two months ago, he might have struggled. The late movement of Manaka's pitch was wicked. Seeing it didn't guarantee hitting it.
But two months ago, Zhou Hao was a different player.
He had grown. Faster. Stronger. His stamina rewards had made a difference too. Though still the least durable among Seidou's regulars, he could now keep pace with their training. His bat speed, his reaction time—everything had leveled up.
This pitch that once seemed unhittable… was now just another target.
He read the angle and swung.
It wasn't flashy. No exaggerated power. Just a clean, decisive motion.
Crack!
The bat met the ball squarely. The sound rang out sharp and pure as the ball shot deep into the outfield.
Ichidai's fielders froze in shock. That pitch—hit so cleanly? So far?
By the time they scrambled to chase it down, Zhou Hao was already rounding first.
Sliding into second, he stood safely with a double.
"No outs, runner on second!"
Manaka's earlier momentum evaporated in an instant.
The stands exploded.
"One hundred percent hit rate!!"
"Four at-bats, four hits!!"
"Zhou Hao hasn't missed once today!"
The fans erupted, chanting and laughing. Even those who had been angry moments ago now found themselves pitying Ichidai.
They weren't playing badly—far from it. Their performance lived up to the reputation of a national powerhouse.
But against Seidou… and against Zhou Hao? They were destined to lose.
Just as that beautiful reporter had said: Ichidai wasn't weak. They had simply run into a wall named Seidou.
And Seidou had Zhou Hao.
"Third batter, number three, first baseman—Yuki!!"
As Yuki stepped into the box, Manaka felt the weight pressing down. Zhou Hao before him, Yuki now—Seidou's monsters were on another level entirely.
The next pitch came in.
Boom!!
Yuki swung without hesitation.
Ping!
The ball exploded off his bat, streaking like a meteor across the field.
It landed before Ichidai's fielders could even react—another clean, merciless hit.
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