"Should we make a change?"
For the coach of a powerhouse team, this question is unavoidable.
It is also brutally realistic.
That was exactly what Coach Kataoka was facing now.
Two outs. Bases loaded.
Seido was one clean hit away from blowing the game open.
But the batter stepping up was Shimoi Teru.
It wasn't only Seisho High's players and supporters who doubted Shimoi's chances—
even Coach Kataoka himself didn't trust Shimoi to hit Akutsu's pitch here.
Ordinary schools lacked bench depth and could only accept fate.
But Seido was not ordinary.
Seido had options.
And this situation—bases loaded, two outs—was tailor-made for certain players.
Such as Miyuki Kazuya.
He was calm under pressure, sharp-witted, and his performance with runners on base was nearly on par with Seido's three core sluggers.
He had already rescued Seido once, during their battle with Osaka Kiryu.
But even then—
Would switching to Miyuki guarantee success?
No one could say.
Akutsu looked utterly worn and shaky after walking two consecutive batters.
In his playing days, Kataoka would have despised such timidity.
But now, as a coach, he understood clearly:
Cowardice was not what he saw—
Akutsu's stubbornness, composure, and refusal to break were the traits of a true Ace.
Miyuki might not succeed.
And if he failed, Seido wouldn't just lose the chance to score—they would lose Shimoi's defense, which was an irreplaceable strength at third base.
Zhou Hao was nearing his physical limits as well.
In the late stages of a close game, the team could not afford to rely solely on their Ace left on the mound.
Infield defense mattered.
Every position mattered.
Kataoka's mind ran through a dozen permutations in a breath.
Choosing between two good options is easy.
Choosing between two necessary but flawed options is what makes coaching painful.
Either choice could help them.
Either choice could hurt them.
Kataoka exhaled through his nose…
…and before he even consciously decided—
his foot moved forward on its own.
That instinct resolved the hesitation inside him.
"Seido High School Baseball Team requests a pinch hitter."
The stadium exploded.
Fans. Reporters. Seisho High's dugout.
Even Seido's own players—
All froze.
A substitution—
here?
Now?
Replacing the fifth batter, a core position?
The pressure on the incoming player would be enormous.
Shimoi Teru, just stepping into the batter's box moments earlier, clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood.
He understood what this meant.
He was the fifth batter.
A core slugger.
One of the lineup's anchors.
And he was being pulled.
Players weren't machines.
Pride mattered.
Emotions mattered.
This sting would leave a mark.
Miyuki Kazuya, despite having a reputation for being sharp-tongued, didn't dare say a word when passing Shimoi.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
Shimoi's presence at that moment was terrifying.
"Pinch hitter: Miyuki Kazuya!"
As the announcement echoed across the stadium, Miyuki stepped forward—
Only for Shimoi to suddenly grip his shoulder.
"...Senior?"
Miyuki couldn't even meet his senpai's eyes.
"Play well. Don't let Coach down."
Shimoi walked back to the dugout in silence.
Coach Kataoka opened his mouth but said nothing.
There was nothing he could say.
No matter how painful, he did not regret the decision.
Seido's creed was simple:
Attack. Never retreat.
If Miyuki had the higher probability, then that was the path they would take.
"Why bring in a first-year at a time like this?"
A fan in the stands asked.
Seido supporters immediately snapped back:
"So what if he's a first-year? Is he eating your food?"
"Don't forget—Zhou Hao is a first-year too!"
"Didn't that first-year dominate the Koshien field?!"
"And when Seido fought Osaka Kiryu, it was Miyuki who saved the game!"
The neutral fans quieted instantly.
Once they heard Miyuki's track record—
they understood.
Seido wasn't being reckless.
They were being Seido.
Aggressive.
Fearless.
Certain.
A powerhouse doesn't win by being conservative.
"Coach Kataoka… is bolder than I thought."
While discussions spread through the stadium—
The duel on the field was reaching its climax.
Akutsu had walked Yuki.
He had walked Azuma Kiyokuni.
Now—
Two outs. Bases loaded.
No retreat for Seido.
No retreat for Akutsu.
Tens of thousands of eyes locked onto the mound.
Akutsu exhaled—
And lifted his leg.
"He's pitching!!!"
The white baseball shot forward like a streak of light.
So fast!
Miyuki's grip tightened.
What would it be?
Bullet Ball?
Outside pitch?
Late movement?
No—
The ball was a straight, center-zone pitch.
Miyuki froze.
"Thwack!"
"STRIKE!"
A center-zone straight ball?
From Akutsu?
Now?
It made no sense.
Akutsu was famed for his intelligence.
His Bullet Ball alone made him a magician on the mound.
Why switch to something so basic?
Before Miyuki could analyze—
"Whoosh!"
Another straight ball.
Same location.
Same trajectory.
Miyuki's eyes bulged.
All his predictions were useless.
He'd been fooled—completely.
"Whoosh!"
Third pitch.
Right down the middle.
Miyuki swung with all his strength.
"Ping!"
The ball bounced off the ground—straight into Akutsu's glove.
The throw to first was immediate.
"Thwack!"
"OUT!!!"
Three stranded runners.
Three-out side retired.
Akutsu—who had walked two batters moments earlier—lifted his head high, tears forming in his eyes.
The nationally revered star pitcher was gone.
What remained was Seisho High's unbreakable Ace.
"AAAAAAHHH!!!"
Akutsu roared.
His teammates roared with him.
1–0. They were still alive.
Meanwhile, in Seido's dugout—
Two faces burned.
Coach Kataoka.
And Miyuki Kazuya.
"I fell for it…"
Miyuki muttered bitterly.
The truth had become clear in an instant.
Akutsu had walked Yuki and Azuma Kiyokuni on purpose.
He had anticipated Seido switching batters.
Whether the pinch hitter was Shimoi or Miyuki—
Akutsu was prepared.
"He knew you would try to read him," Kataoka murmured.
"So he used a straight ball deliberately."
"And Akutsu is confident enough in his Bullet Ball that even if he throws it down the middle, few can touch it."
"This guy… he's truly formidable."
Seido had failed to score.
They left the bases loaded.
But amazingly—
Not a single Seido player looked discouraged.
They took the field with renewed determination.
Top of the seventh inning — Seisho High on offense
Their leadoff hitter stepped into the batter's box.
Seido's supporters watched intently.
In the third-round batting cycle, Seido had nearly broken the game open.
Would Seisho respond in kind?
If their third-round at-bats produced nothing—
Then Akutsu's heroic stand might collapse entirely.
The leadoff batter gripped his bat tightly.
He glared at Zhou Hao.
"Our Ace is running out of stamina. No way a first-year like you isn't exhausted too!"
Chris smirked.
If the opponent wanted to attack aggressively—
They would gladly let them swing blindly.
He signal-called up to Zhou Hao—
But Zhou Hao shook his head.
"Sorry, senior. My stamina is too low for pinpoint control now."
He was tired.
Truly tired.
Even with his Sharingan, he had burned mental and physical energy for six innings.
Chris understood instantly.
"So that means… your breaking balls—?"
Zhou Hao nodded.
His precise pitches—Phantom, disappearing ball—were too demanding now.
"I can only throw standard Straights and Spiral Balls. Three innings, twenty-seven pitches. Even if I throw all Spirals, I can endure."
That was more than enough.
Chris nearly rolled his eyes.
Zhou Hao shook his head earlier—
and Chris had nearly panicked.
The score was still 1–0.
If Zhou Hao couldn't last the full nine innings, everything would be ruined.
But this guy…
was humble-bragging.
Twenty-seven more Spiral Balls.
At his current pitch count of barely over seventy—
that was absolutely manageable.
"What about the Bullet Ball?"
Zhou Hao paused—then nodded.
The Bullet Ball didn't require the same precision as his other breaking pitches.
Chris grinned.
"Perfect. The next batter is Akutsu. Let's keep using the Bullet Ball."
Zhou Hao sighed internally.
Catcher really are scheming guys…