Ping!!!
The crack of the bat echoed like a cannon blast.
For a split second, the supporters of the Seido High School Baseball Team froze.
Not because they doubted Zhou Hao.
But because even they hadn't expected this.
Two at-bats.
Two home runs.
By all logic, he should have cooled off.
Regressed slightly.
Baseball was supposed to be a game of adjustments.
Instead—
Zhou Hao looked like he had turned the difficulty down.
Facing a first-year pitcher he had never seen before, with no scouting data, no prior confrontation—
He swung without hesitation.
And the ball traveled over a hundred meters.
Straight into the right-field stands.
The crowd erupted into chaos as fans scrambled for the souvenir.
But most eyes never left the field.
They stayed locked on Zhou Hao.
"My goodness… another one!"
"Three home runs!"
"Seido scores their ninth run!"
The scoreboard changed again.
9 – 0.
Bottom of the fifth.
Against Teito.
A nationally renowned powerhouse.
A team capable of challenging the elite of West Tokyo.
And yet—
They were trailing by nine.
Even Seido's own supporters struggled to process it.
"Just one more run!"
"No outs!"
"And Yuki is next!"
Even with the bases empty, anticipation surged through the stands.
To them, this inning was already written.
The game would end here.
Because even if Teito's rookie pitcher had real talent—
He had just given up a towering home run.
And now he would face Yuki.
The odds?
Close to zero.
"We're about to witness history!"
"Powerhouse teams almost never get eliminated in five innings!"
"Out of more than four thousand high schools nationwide, less than one percent are considered elite."
"And one of them is about to fall in five!"
The murmurs carried across the stadium.
They inevitably reached the Teito bench.
And each word felt like a blade.
"Three consecutive home runs…"
"Was he always this ridiculous?"
"Last year he was strong—but not like this!"
"Is he cheating or something?"
Neutral fans responded calmly.
"He's not a dark horse anymore."
"He's a second-year now."
"The number one player in high school baseball."
There was no exaggeration.
Only acknowledgment.
On Seido's side, excitement surged.
According to tournament regulations, if the run differential reached ten after five innings, the game would end early.
The score stood at 9–0.
One more run.
Just one.
Even though Seido had faced fierce competition before, including battles against Ichidai San High School Baseball Team, this moment still felt different.
This wasn't just a win.
It was domination.
It was rewriting expectations.
"The next batter is Yuki!"
"That Teito first-year looked impressive earlier…"
"What a pity."
The confrontation hadn't even begun.
But Seido's supporters had already imagined the ending.
On the opposite side—
Teito's players felt the edge of humiliation approaching.
Five innings.
A ten-run deficit.
For a powerhouse like them, that would sting for years.
They couldn't accept it.
Not for pride.
Not for legacy.
Not for themselves.
They had to at least survive this inning.
And then—
Teito's first-year pitcher, Mukai Taiyo, did something unexpected.
Despite the scoreboard.
Despite the pressure.
He raised one finger.
"Let's get one out first."
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried.
One out.
Not a comeback.
Not a miracle.
Just one out.
The simplicity of it jolted his teammates.
These were elite players.
They had fought through countless battles to wear this uniform.
Somewhere along the way, the weight of expectations had buried their original love for the game.
Now—
A first-year reminded them.
It wasn't about the scoreboard anymore.
It was about the next pitch.
"Get one out first."
"Let him hit it—we'll stop it."
The infielders adjusted their gloves.
Outfielders bent their knees.
The air shifted slightly.
The game wasn't over yet.
Yuki stepped into the batter's box.
Mukai tightened his grip.
History stood one run away.
And between Seido and that early finish—
Stood a first-year's stubborn resolve.
Back in the dugout, Zhou Hao subconsciously glanced toward Teito's side.
His gaze lingered on the mound.
On Mukai.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
By all logic, Teito should have collapsed by now.
Five innings.
No runs scored.
Nine runs conceded.
Worse still—
Not even a glimmer of hope offensively.
That kind of suffocating despair could crush seasoned adult players.
Let alone high school students.
And yet—
They hadn't fallen apart.
Because of one person.
Mukai Taiyo.
That alone was extraordinary.
Zhou Hao understood something at that moment.
Some players built their aura through victory after victory.
Like him.
Others—
Were simply born with it.
Just like Sawamura Eijun.
And now, Mukai.
Even standing on a mound while trailing 9–0, the boy radiated defiance.
What an enviable rising star…
Zhou Hao exhaled softly.
"They're catching up faster than I expected."
Then he added quietly—
"I'll have to work harder too."
The Seido bench heard him.
And froze.
Zhou Hao… needed to work harder?
If he thought that—
What excuse did they have?
"Get fired up!!" Kuramochi shouted, veins bulging.
The others didn't yell.
But something in their posture changed.
Sharper.
Hungrier.
On the field, Yuki stepped into the box.
He stood like a mountain.
Even motionless, he exerted pressure.
Teito's catcher narrowed his eyes.
Strangely enough—
Yuki felt even heavier than Zhou Hao.
Yes, Zhou Hao had just launched three consecutive home runs.
His efficiency this season was terrifying.
Compared to last year, he had evolved dramatically.
But Yuki—
Was different.
With Zhou Hao, you feared explosion.
With Yuki, you felt inevitability.
He was strength personified.
As long as he stood there, an easy out felt impossible.
Teito's catcher exhaled slowly.
Their rookie had talent.
Everyone in Teito acknowledged that.
But his debut—
Had come at the worst possible moment.
"You can only blame your bad luck, kid…"
Still, he hoped.
Give it everything. Even gamble the corners.
On the mound, Mukai's eyes gleamed.
He agreed.
No hesitation.
Whoosh!
The pitch cut forward with surgical precision.
It was like a bullet fired from five meters away—
Perfectly placed.
Even Yuki paused.
Such control meant there was no room for error.
A millimeter off—
Foul.
Or a weak out.
And suddenly—
Yuki understood Zhou Hao's earlier decision.
Against a pitcher you don't fully understand—
Sometimes you don't aim for perfection.
You swing with absolute conviction.
"No holding back."
The ball entered range.
Yuki unleashed everything.
BOOM!!
The thunderous crack startled even the catcher.
For a heartbeat, he couldn't breathe.
Ping!!
The ball soared.
High.
Very high.
Teito's players and supporters felt their hearts stop.
Nine-run gap.
If this cleared the fence—
It would be over.
Five innings.
Humiliation sealed in history.
No…
Not like this…
But prayers didn't alter physics.
The ball descended—
Beyond the reach of the outfielder.
It landed deep.
Seven or eight meters behind him before bouncing back.
He chased it desperately and fired it in.
Too late.
Yuki was already standing firmly on second base.
No outs.
Runner on second.
The game wasn't over.
But it was trembling on the edge.
Yuki glanced down at his hands.
Originally, he had aimed to end it in one swing.
But Mukai's precision had forced compromise.
That pitch had been almost flawless.
Even this hit—
Had required brute force.
Which meant something else.
Zhou Hao's previous blast?
That hadn't been luck.
He had struck the absolute core.
Perfect contact.
Yuki's eyes sharpened.
Just how sharp is his vision?
Even he couldn't replicate it casually.
And if Yuki couldn't—
Then no one else likely could either.
On the Teito bench—
Their former ace sat silently.
Hands trembling slightly.
Watching everything unravel.
The present had slipped beyond him.
The future had arrived too quickly.
And it wore Seido's uniform.