[You, who have gained some renown in the Ninja World, have encountered the Child of Destiny of this world. Do you wish to fight alongside the Child of Destiny of this world?]
[If you choose yes, and the two of you cooperate to defeat the opponent, you will obtain the Uchiha clan's unique Shuriken Throwing Technique.]
[If you choose no, there will be no reward!]
The mission appeared without warning.
Zhou Hao studied the boy in front of him—the so-called Child of Destiny. Just teaming up with him would unlock a reward?
And not just any reward—the Uchiha clan's Shuriken Jutsu.
If his guess was right, this technique would translate into a slider on the mound. The thought set his blood boiling. His fastball had already been honed to the peak. To take the next step, he needed breaking balls. Only by polishing his arsenal could his straight ball evolve further.
Normally, he'd have to wait for the system's next mission, which could take ages. But this one had dropped into his lap at the perfect moment.
"Zhou Hao doesn't even have proper catcher's gear—"
Takashima Rei frowned, clearly against the idea. Selfishly, she couldn't bear the risk. From the team's perspective, it was madness.
Yes, Seidō had already clinched Koshien, fulfilling the school's long-held dream. But neither Coach Kataoka nor the players were satisfied with just reaching the tournament. Their ambition was clear: national domination.
And Zhou Hao was the cornerstone of that goal.
Without him, their odds of taking the crown dropped below fifty percent. If something happened to him here, their chances would plummet to near zero.
But Rei's objections fell flat. Zhou Hao himself was willing, and no one could stop him.
"Then use Ono's gear," someone suggested.
It was a size too big, but better that than too small. Zhou Hao strapped it on. Loose, yes—but serviceable.
He crouched behind the plate, mask in place. "I'm ready. You'd better be too."
"I didn't say I'd partner with you!" Sawamura barked.
"You're not scared, are you?" Zhou Hao's smirk was razor-thin.
The Seidō players groaned. Seriously? That kind of bait?
"Who's scared?!" Sawamura exploded, eyes blazing like a bull's.
Within seconds, a pitcher's glove was shoved into his hand. He stood tall, chest puffed out.
"Tell me what pitches you throw," Zhou Hao asked.
Sawamura smirked, proud. "I never shy away from batters. Straight down the middle, every time!"
"…Center fastballs only?" Zhou Hao blinked.
"That's right!"
Zhou Hao almost choked. Even if he threw only center fastballs, he'd be torn apart within innings. And this guy was an Ace?
"Tell me," Zhou Hao deadpanned, "has your team ever actually won a real tournament game?"
Sawamura bristled instantly. "What's that supposed to mean?!"
So they haven't, Zhou Hao confirmed silently. It matched what he remembered—Sawamura's team had never gotten past the first round.
"Nothing," Zhou Hao said coolly. "Just admiring Takashima Rei's scouting judgment."
He clapped his hands. "Fine. Since you don't know any pitches, just follow my glove. When I signal, nod. Keep your eyes sharp, like you're in a big moment. Got it?"
"I'm not a preschooler!" Sawamura snapped.
Zhou Hao chuckled, but inside he was tense. If he were pitching, he wouldn't flinch even against Azuma. But now, with Sawamura holding the ball, he couldn't afford a single mistake. He needed that reward.
"Are you two done?" Azuma called, bat resting on his shoulder, irritation leaking through.
"Already impatient, Senior?" Zhou Hao shrugged. "Then let's not keep you waiting."
He settled into the catcher's squat.
"How are we scoring this?" he asked. "We can't just treat every ball in play as a hit."
True—every pitcher's style was different. Without defense, calling every contact a base hit was nonsense.
"Use the First String's substitutes as the standard," someone suggested. "If the ball's something they'd catch, it's an out. Otherwise, it counts as a hit."
Zhou Hao glanced at the bench players and nodded. Fair enough. At least this way, the duel would be balanced.
Takashima Rei raised her hand, voice steady.
"The match begins!"
The stage was set. The catcher, the Child of Destiny, and the veteran slugger—battle was about to erupt.
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