The supporters of Seidou High School were stunned.
It wasn't that they didn't believe in Zhou Hao. But in this situation, with that overwhelming gap in ability, it felt like no one could do anything.
That pitch speed was practically illegal for high school baseball.
Even the most die-hard fans thought the same: no matter who stepped into the batter's box, the result would be hopeless.
Yet Zhou Hao himself showed no intention of giving up.
Pitching speed was tied to tailing force, but speed alone wasn't everything. Zhou Hao could see it clearly—the ball's angle, spin, trajectory. If Kuroda's pitch didn't have enough tailing force, he was confident he could fight back and recover the run he had just allowed.
"Boom!"
Another fastball exploded toward him. Zhou Hao's eyes glowed faintly red as he activated his Sharingan, tracking every detail. He swung—
"Smack!"
Too slow. The ball screamed past him.
For a split second, even Osaka Kiryu's supporters thought Zhou Hao would connect. Their hearts skipped. But the result was the same: nothing.
Standing in the batter's box, Zhou Hao's face grew serious. His mind and eyes were in sync, but his body lagged behind—just a fraction too slow.
My body and eyesight are too far apart. I have to swing earlier…
Knuckles whitening on the bat, he prepared himself.
"Boom!"
The third pitch came. This time, Zhou Hao swung the instant Kuroda released the ball. Risky—but it was his only option.
Ping!
Contact!
The sound made Osaka Kiryu's supporters hold their breath. The ball was driven forward—only to be scooped up effortlessly by the first baseman.
"Smack!"
"Out!!"
Two outs, no one on base.
Zhou Hao looked down at his hands in disbelief. His palms burned as though they'd been split open. The ball had felt less like a baseball and more like a shot put—solid, crushing.
Returning to the dugout, his teammates crowded around.
"How was it?"
Zhou Hao let out a bitter smile. "Like hitting a wall."
For the first time, he felt powerless at the plate. No matter what he tried, he couldn't land a clean hit. The frustration was suffocating.
"You've already done very well," Coach Kataoka said firmly. His voice carried to every player in the dugout. "The fact you made contact shows their pitcher isn't invincible. But remember—you're not alone. Even if you are the Ace, don't carry everything by yourself. Trust your seniors. They're excellent too."
Those words weren't just for Zhou Hao. They were for the whole team. Especially the core batters who had to rise to the challenge.
Azuma Kiyokuni's eyes hardened. "Director, don't worry. We'll handle it."
They wouldn't wait for Kuroda to tire. They would strike him down now.
"Third batter, number 3, first baseman, Yuki Tetsuya."
Yuki stepped into the box.
In Osaka Kiryu's dugout, Director Matsumoto smirked. "The myth breaks again."
What made Zhou Hao terrifying was not only his dominant pitching but also his nearly flawless batting. Those twin myths had given Seidou a huge psychological edge against rivals. But now? Both had been broken.
Kiryu held the advantage.
Or so they thought.
"Boom!!"
Kuroda unleashed another blistering fastball.
Yuki didn't flinch. He wasn't early like Zhou Hao. He waited, steady as a mountain—then erupted like a volcano.
"Ping!!"
The sound was like thunder colliding with fire. The ball rocketed off the bat, tearing through the infield before anyone could react.
Seidou's fans leapt to their feet, ready to roar.
The ball smashed into the dirt like a meteor, bouncing away before Osaka Kiryu's defenders could respond.
"It's through!!"
Dropping his bat, Yuki sprinted to first—and didn't stop. The stunned fielders were still frozen when he slid into second base.
Two outs. Runner on second.
At that moment, Seidou's most reliable senior had answered the call.
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