When doubt crept into Shirawaza heart, he knew he could no longer cling to his previous plan.
Walk one.
Then walk another.
That strategy could help him avoid direct confrontations with Yuki Tetsuya, the third batter, and Azuma Kiyokuni, the cleanup hitter.
But now—
With his stamina no longer holding an advantage, continuing down that path would be nothing short of self-destruction.
Zhou Hao's stamina was still abundant.
He didn't look like someone who would collapse even after one or two extra innings.
If Shirawaza continued consuming himself at this stage, he would only be increasing Seidou High School's chances of victory.
I need to crush them head-on.
Shirawaza eyes narrowed.
From the very beginning, he had been holding back.
Against Seidou's power hitters, he wasn't lacking confidence.
In their third confrontation, he believed he had the ability to get them out.
Yet he had still chosen to walk them.
Not because he was afraid—
But because he was waiting.
Waiting for the moment when retreat was no longer an option.
When the team needed him to stand at the front.
When he could deal with the strongest opponents cleanly and decisively—
boosting his own side's morale while crushing the enemy's spirit.
When Shirawaza raised his head again, his gaze burned.
Oishibashi, crouched behind the plate, instantly understood.
"…Are we doing it?"
They had discussed this before the game.
This choice was only to be used in a do-or-die situation.
And now—
This was exactly that moment.
Shirawaza gave no verbal answer.
But his posture spoke for him.
Oishibashi's eyes sharpened.
The nation's top battery—pitcher and catcher—made their decision without hesitation.
No retreat.
No wavering.
In Seidou's dugout, Coach Kataoka unconsciously tightened his clasped hands.
This was the kind of Ace he admired.
A pitcher who could step forward at critical moments and act decisively.
Not just Kataoka—
Reporters, professional scouts, and rival coaches in the stands all shared the same realization.
This is it.
The moment when both sides would go all out.
Shirawaza took a deep breath on the mound.
Then—
He threw.
"Whoosh!"
The baseball screamed forward.
A faint smile appeared on Shirawaza face.
He was confident in this pitch.
The Phantom.
The white ball twisted unnaturally through the air.
Yuki Tetsuya, standing in the batter's box, felt his gaze flicker.
He had been fooled by this pitch before.
So far, only Zhou Hao had managed to hit it cleanly.
That wasn't because Seidou's batters were weak—
It was because Shirawaza barely used this pitch.
Except against Zhou Hao, he had thrown it only once or twice to anyone else.
Even in earlier games, it was rarely seen.
As a result, Seidou's pregame analysis lacked solid data.
They knew Shirawaza possessed a third breaking ball—but understanding it was another matter entirely.
I need to observe it carefully.
Yuki suppressed his urgency.
Scoring was important—but foundation mattered more.
A shaky step forward was no different from a castle in the air.
From the previous pitch alone, Yuki had already formed a rough prediction.
One more look—
And he'd have over a fifty-percent chance to deal with it.
Just as he tightened his grip—
Shirawaza moved again.
"Whoosh!"
A straight pitch.
Fast.
Sharp.
Driven into the corner.
Yuki's heart jolted.
He didn't give me another Phantom…
Shirawaza had no intention of letting him study it further.
This pitch was meant to end it.
Yuki didn't hesitate.
He swung.
"Ping!!!"
The sound cracked through the stadium like thunder.
For an instant, the Seibo supporters felt their hearts leap into their throats.
The ball shot forward like a beam of light—
even faster than the pitch itself.
The baseball slammed into the ground, leaving a shallow crater.
Breaths stopped.
Is it over?
Even if this ball was caught, Zhou Hao would score from third without question.
Then—
"Foul ball!!"
The camera zoomed in.
Five centimeters.
That was all.
One strike. One foul.
Shirawaza technically held the advantage—
But no one who truly understood baseball believed he was safe.
Given the power behind that swing, Shirawaza knew it too.
"That was… way too close."
A young female fan clutched her chest, face pale.
She wasn't alone.
Many Seibo supporters had begun to waver.
Their Ace had avoided Yuki before.
And now, even with preparation—
He had almost been blown away.
In Seidou's dugout, silence reigned.
Not calm silence—
But restrained frustration.
If that ball had landed fair, the game would've ended right there.
Bottom of the ninth.
0–0.
One run was all they needed.
Whether it was 1–0 or 10–0 didn't matter.
As long as that single run crossed home plate—
They would be Koshien champions.
The dream was right in front of them.
Yet still—just out of reach.
On the mound, Shirawaza wiped his sweaty palms.
His confidence had been shaken.
That pitch hadn't landed where he predicted.
It was supposed to be a wide foul—
Yet Yuki had dragged it back in.
Monsters…
Every one of them.
Shirawaza signaled sharply.
The infield crept forward.
They would not allow a bunt.
Not under any circumstances.
Yuki saw it clearly.
Shirawaza stance was provocative—
As if declaring:
As long as you don't bunt, I'll strike you out.
The tension thickened.
"This is Seibō's experience showing," someone muttered.
"At moments like this, Seidou still lacks polish."
Chris suddenly spoke from Seidou's dugout.
"The next pitch will be the Phantom."
Everyone stiffened.
"That pitch is irregular," Chris continued calmly.
"Double-image movement. Hard to read as either straight or breaking."
Even Zhou Hao couldn't fully decipher it.
And Shirawaza success so far proved why.
Against Seidou, this pitch was nearly a sure kill.
Yuki understood this better than anyone.
So this is it…
Shirawaza raised his arm.
"Final pitch."
"Whoosh!"
The Phantom came.
Tens of thousands of eyes locked onto the ball.
Oishibashi could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Get him.
Then—
Yuki suddenly choked up on the bat.
His body leaned forward.
The bat angled down.
Bunt!!!
The stadium exploded into shock.