Sorry, late update cuz so busy.
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The game moved into the top of the fifth inning, with Rokkaku High School stepping up to bat.
This nationally recognized powerhouse, which had been suppressed since the start of the match, finally showed signs of life.
Their Fourth Batter connected cleanly, sending the ball past Seido's third baseman.
Azuma Kiyokuni leaped, but couldn't reach it.
As the ball bounced into open territory, Rokkaku's cleanup hitter rounded first and slid safely into second.
"Safe!"
No outs, runner on second.
At this stage, neither the Rokkaku players nor their supporters hoped for a comeback. Their desire had narrowed to one desperate objective:
Just score. Just once. Save face.
And because their goal had simplified to something so small, the players regained a bit of spirit.
Embarrassing? Maybe.
But could anything be more embarrassing than this?
10–0. 15–0. 20–0.
Did it matter anymore?
But 10–1? That was different. That meant something.
The Fifth Batter stepped into the box, raising his bat high. His eyes locked onto Yoshida on the mound, burning with determination.
Yoshida felt the pressure too.
Behind the plate, Chris studied him, checking his condition with a single glance.
"Don't worry, I'm fine."
Yoshida nodded back firmly.
He knew what Chris was concerned about.
Facing a top-four national opponent—even one whose advancement held a bit of luck—their strength was still undeniable.
Standing on the mound, Yoshida carried the weight of responsibility.
Zhou Hao had once stood against Osaka Kiryu and Seisho High—both terrifying giants.
Zhou Hao didn't bow his head then.
How could Yoshida bow now?
As Seido's third-year core, as their Ace on the mound today—he had a duty.
He exhaled, then unleashed the pitch in his hand.
His delivery was sharp, clean, full of authority.
The batter tensed instinctively—such a fast motion, such intensity.
Even though it was their second confrontation, the pressure was immense.
He gripped the bat tighter and swung.
"Ping!"
The moment contact was made, shock flashed across his face.
He hadn't struck the sweet spot.
His hands vibrated violently—
"The break is that sharp?!"
Before he could even process it, the ball bounced on the ground.
Seido's supporters froze for a moment.
Was something going to go wrong?
Shimoi lunged forward, scooping the ball cleanly—
"Crack!"
He fired to first.
"Out!"
One out, runner still on second.
Yoshida, who had just surrendered a hit, answered with a clean defensive stop.
A wave of relief washed through the Seido supporters.
If a run was surrendered eventually, it wouldn't change the outcome.
Even if Tanba were pitching instead of Yoshida, Rokkaku wouldn't stand a chance. Their defeat was already sealed.
But for Yoshida's rhythm, his mentality, his pride—conceding easily would matter.
Then came the Sixth Batter.
Rokkaku had finally gotten a hit. They finally had a runner in scoring position.
If they failed to convert here, it wouldn't be a pity—
It would be devastation.
"We must hit it! No matter what, we MUST hit it!"
He trembled with adrenaline, veins bulging along his arms.
Chris smirked slightly.
Good.
This was exactly the reaction they wanted.
"The batter can't wait to swing, Yoshida-senpai."
Yoshida understood immediately.
"Then let's give him what he wants."
Before Zhou Hao ever joined the team, Yoshida and Chris had been Seido's Ace duo.
Their synergy was absolute.
Yoshida set, then fired.
"Whoosh!"
The ball raced toward the plate.
Seeing its trajectory, the batter committed instantly.
If he didn't swing at a pitch like that, dead center—
Why even bother playing baseball?
"Ping!"
The ball flew upward, high and useless.
Everyone knew the outcome already.
Matsumoto positioned himself, raised his glove—
"Crack!"
"Out!"
Two outs, runner on second.
Cruel. Utterly cruel.
Rokkaku's players had never imagined that even with a runner in scoring position, scoring a single run would be so impossibly difficult.
The Seido fans roared with pride.
"Do you understand how strong we are now?"
"We are Seido. Even without our Ace pitching, our bench alone is beyond you!"
They were intoxicated by dominance.
They savored superiority.
They relished the feeling of a true king.
The inning continued.
But the Rokkaku batters had already resigned themselves.
No matter what they tried—nothing worked.
"Ping!"
The Seventh Batter connected—only to be caught effortlessly.
Three outs.
The inning ended.
The scoreboard still read 10–0.
Seido eased up—subtly, but unmistakably.
They scored only once in the fifth inning.
11–0.
Some Rokkaku supporters blinked in surprised gratitude.
"I didn't expect Seido to be so considerate…"
"To help us save face…"
"Go home and get your brains checked!"
Even among Rokkaku fans, some understood.
Mercy?
They wished.
"Can't you see? Seido doesn't even consider Rokkaku a threat. Continuing to sprint the bases wastes stamina. In heat like this, extending the game drains energy. They're preparing for the FINALS, idiots."
Harsh words—but true.
Seido was already shifting their focus.
Their eyes were elsewhere.
The game resumed, but Rokkaku continued to flail helplessly.
Yoshida pitched through the sixth.
Then, beginning in the seventh, he was replaced.
Tanba Koichiro stepped onto the mound.
Everyone understood instantly.
Seido didn't want Yoshida wasting another drop of strength.
Even if they surrendered a run—it didn't matter.
They wanted to enter the final at full power.
For Rokkaku's players, Tanba looked like a blessing.
They couldn't handle Yoshida.
They couldn't even IMAGINE facing Zhou Hao.
After six innings, they had only recorded a single hit.
Now came Tanba—an untested second-year with no achievements to his name.
Scoring should be EASY…
"This is a gift from heaven—we can't waste it!"
They stared at Tanba like starving wolves.
But Tanba was trembling inside.
He never expected to be used in such an important moment.
He breathed heavily, again and again.
He didn't want to look weak.
He hadn't chosen Seido over Ichidai just to rot on the bench.
He wanted to become Seido's Ace.
Even if that dream seemed impossible after Zhou Hao arrived—
Tanba refused to give up.
"Whoosh!"
The pitch screamed through the air.
The Rokkaku batter, eyes wide with anticipation, suddenly froze.
"What—?!"
The high pitch suddenly PLUNGED downward.
He swung instinctively—
"Ping!"
A weak bounce.
Intercepted instantly.
"Crack!"
"Out!"
Rokkaku's bench fell silent, stunned.
What kind of sorcery was that?
A ball that falls from the sky?
"That high-dropping curveball is impossible to hit!"
"Even their substitute's substitute can pitch like THAT?!"
They had never scouted Tanba.
With Zhou Hao and Yoshida overshadowing him, Tanba was a mystery.
They never imagined he possessed that kind of weapon.
"Crack!"
"Out!"
"Out!"
"Out!"
Three outs—side retired.
Seido didn't score in the sixth, scored once in the seventh, and once in the eighth.
Thirteen runs total.
Coach Kataoka had been prepared to surrender a couple of runs—
But Tanba's curveball bewildered Rokkaku completely.
They didn't just fail to score—they couldn't even touch the ball.
"Game set!"
"Koshien semi-final—Seido High School vs. Rokkaku High School. After nine innings of… hard-fought competition—"
The announcer somehow managed to keep a straight face.
"The final score: 13–0! Seido High School wins!"
"Congratulations to Seido—first to advance to the Koshien Finals!"
"They have shouted for years that they would dominate the nation—"
"And now, they are only one step away!"
After the match, the national buzz exploded.
Everyone agreed:
Seido truly had a real chance at the championship!
"We won!!!"
Even though the victory seemed effortless, Seido's players were overflowing with excitement.