Whoosh!
Teito's ace poured everything he had into that pitch.
The velocity wasn't slow by any normal standard.
But to Zhou Hao—
It was crawling.
The moment the ball left the pitcher's fingertips, time seemed to fracture into still frames. The seams rotated clearly in his vision. The spin. The axis. The drop.
Everything was exposed.
Through countless battles, Zhou Hao had come to classify pitches into two distinct categories.
The first—
Pitches thrown by true elite pitchers.
Those with overwhelming presence. With life.
Even at identical speed and spin, their balls carried something extra—an intangible vitality. They felt alive, as if resisting the bat itself.
Against pitchers like last year's top trio, or even Sawamura Eijun with his moving fastball, Zhou Hao had to concentrate fully. There were no guarantees.
Those battles were challenges.
The second category—
Industrial-grade strength.
Solid mechanics. Decent velocity. Respectable control.
But lifeless.
Mass-produced power.
Teito's ace belonged to this group.
Against such pitches—
Zhou Hao wasn't ninety percent confident.
He was certain.
One hundred percent.
The instant he confirmed the trajectory, he widened his stance.
No hesitation.
Boom!
His bat tore through the air.
The sound alone made fielders flinch.
Ping!!!
The baseball exploded off the barrel.
Under the gaze of tens of thousands in the stadium, the white sphere rose—
Higher.
Higher.
It carved a magnificent arc across the Tokyo sky before plunging deep into the outfield stands.
Clack!
It struck metal railing and bounced wildly.
Fans surged toward it.
Under high school baseball rules, any home run ball landing in the stands belonged to whoever retrieved it.
And this one—
This one was hit by Zhou Hao.
Excitement erupted instantly.
Who wouldn't recognize its future value?
With Zhou Hao's current dominance, it was almost inevitable he would become a legend in the baseball world.
That ball might look ordinary now.
But years later—
It could be priceless.
"It's gone!!!"
"A two-run homer!!"
"Unbelievable power!"
"As expected of the number one player in high school baseball!"
"Seido scores their sixth run!"
The scoreboard flipped mercilessly.
6 – 0.
Bottom of the third.
No outs.
The neutral spectators felt chills crawl up their backs.
The third inning.
And the score was already this brutal.
Worse—
Seido's momentum hadn't even slowed.
Anyone familiar with Seido High School Baseball Team understood what this meant.
When they gained momentum—
They didn't ease up.
They crushed.
In Koshien and official finals, regulations required games to go the full nine innings regardless of score.
But outside of that?
Called games were possible.
This was the Tokyo Spring Tournament semifinal.
If Seido reached the required margin, the game could end early.
Teito—
A perennial powerhouse. A regular at Koshien.
And yet—
By the third inning, they were staring at disaster.
Teito's coach turned slowly toward Zhou Hao.
Two at-bats.
Two monstrous home runs.
Five RBIs already.
Even ignoring his pitching—
At the plate alone, this boy was a prodigy.
No.
More than that.
A future superstar.
"This game…"
He exhaled slowly.
"…is probably over."
But Seido wasn't finished.
No outs.
Bases empty.
Still attacking.
"Fourth batter, number three — First Baseman, Yuki Tetsuya!"
The Seido cheering section exploded again.
If Zhou Hao was destruction incarnate—
Then Yuki was inevitability.
Because Seido had displayed overwhelming dominance all season, many teams chose a cowardly strategy against them.
Intentional walks.
Avoid Zhou Hao.
Avoid Yuki.
Deny them opportunities.
If they never swung, their power meant nothing.
But Teito's ace—
Didn't retreat.
His ability might not rank among the nation's absolute best.
Among powerhouse schools, he was average at best.
But his courage—
Was undeniable.
He faced Zhou Hao head-on.
Now he faced Yuki the same way.
No fear.
No evasion.
Full commitment.
From the stands, someone muttered:
"No backing down, huh…"
"Even if the result isn't ideal… I have to admit…"
"You're the bravest warrior in high school baseball."
Even the supporters of Seido High School Baseball Team couldn't help but praise Teito's ace.
Not everyone possessed that kind of mindset.
To stand before overwhelming power…
To know you might be crushed…
And still charge forward without retreat.
That alone deserved respect.
Whoosh!
He widened his stance and fired the pitch.
True to his warrior's pride, he didn't disgrace his title.
Even after surrendering a home run, even after watching the scoreboard tilt mercilessly against him—
He faced Yuki Tetsuya head-on.
No evasion.
No intentional walk.
Just pure confrontation.
At the plate, Yuki stood calm and composed.
Strict. Disciplined. Patient.
The first pitch cut across the zone.
He watched it pass.
Studied it.
Stored the information.
The second pitch came.
Yuki moved.
Boom!
The bat cut through the air like thunder splitting the sky.
Teito's catcher felt his breathing hitch.
So fast…
Before the thought fully formed—
Ping!
The baseball shot off the barrel like lightning.
Teito's infielders could only turn their heads.
No dive.
No reaction.
The ball was already gone.
"It went through!"
Yuki rounded first without hesitation and charged into second.
"Safe!"
No outs.
Runner on second.
If Zhou Hao's hits were apocalyptic—
Yuki's were surgical.
Textbook.
Perfectly timed.
No wasted motion.
No excess force.
Just inevitability.
To Teito's players, the despair felt identical.
It was like being slowly strangled—unable to resist, unable to breathe.
How had it come to this?
Teito was a national powerhouse.
A regular at Koshien.
Yet against Seido, they looked like beginners facing professionals.
The stands buzzed uneasily.
"It hasn't stopped yet?"
"As expected of Seido…"
"They're overwhelming them completely."
Teito's players looked dazed.
Even their ace—
The proudest player on the roster—
Now showed cracks.
Originally, he had prepared himself.
Seido was dominant nationwide. Losing was possible.
But he had believed—
At the very least—
He could trade blows.
Exchange rounds.
Prove he belonged on the same field.
Yet by the bottom of the third—
He was unraveling.
"It can't end like this… it absolutely can't!"
He hurled a desperate pitch toward Seido's fifth batter.
From the outside, it looked ordinary.
But the catcher saw it clearly.
The ball had already drifted off the intended edge of the strike zone.
That wasn't the agreed location.
That wasn't the plan.
Their ace had lost command.
Lost control.
The inning wasn't even over.
The score—
Already 7–0.
The catcher understood better than anyone.
His partner was at his limit.
If he throws another one like that… will it be a walk?
The fear flickered briefly.
Fortunately—
It didn't become a walk.
Unfortunately—
The result was worse.
At the plate stood Isashiki Jun.
His eyes lit up.
"Good pitch!"
For others, that outside location was awkward.
For him—
It was perfect.
He stepped in decisively.
Ping!
The contact was clean and sharp.
The ball streaked fifty, sixty meters before bouncing into the outfield grass.
Teito's fielder sprinted.
Dove.
Missed.
"It went through!!"
Isashiki blasted toward first.
Yuki was already in motion.
Third base—
Home—
The throw came in late.
Snap!
Yuki's foot touched the plate.
"Safe!!"
"Seido scores their seventh run this inning!"
Bottom of the third.
Still no outs.
Score: 7–0.
The gap had widened into something suffocating.
In the stands, a middle-aged man in a baseball cap narrowed his eyes as he watched the field.
His voice was low.
Calm.
Certain.
"Victory and defeat… are already decided."