Two outs. No one on base.
One ball.
The white baseball whistled through the air once more. Zhang Han, standing at the plate, did not swing rashly. He was under imnse pressure.
Today's ga had seen Seido concede two runs early, their morale plumting. Inashiro Industrial was a team particularly adept at snowballing. Once they established an advantage, they would relentlessly expand it, squeezing every last bit of Seido's counter-attack space until nothing remained. If it truly ca to that, Seido would find themselves in a completely passive position.
As the batter at this mont, Zhang Han had to deliver.
Even if the team ultimately couldn't recover those runs, getting a single hit would matter. At the very least, it would give the rest of his teammates sothing to hold onto.
"If Zhang Han gets out here, Seido will be completely passive for the rest of the ga."
In the stands, experienced reporters and fans were already making their predictions. They sensed that once the ga fell into Inashiro's rhythm, the chances of a Seido coback would beco extrely slim.
Zhang Han had not swung at the first pitch. He did not swing at the second either, watching the baseball rapidly drop in front of him.
Snap.
The forkball was fast enough to catch anyone off guard.
"Strike!"
One ball, one strike.
From Seido's dugout, voices rang out in rapid succession.
"Stay focused!"
"No rush! We still have the count!"
Inashiro's substitutes were quick to answer back.
"He's on the ropes, keep it up!"
"Two outs! Just one more!"
The players on the field had not reacted much, but the fans in the stands and substitutes in the dugouts had already begun to stir. They rolled up their sleeves, looking ready to storm the field and fight for three hundred rounds. Of course, most of them probably knew better than to actually try. They were no match for the two monsters standing out there.
But none of that stopped them from putting on a show. Whatever else happened, they could not lose to those guys on the other side of the stands.
Zhang Han, locked inside the batter's box, had no attention to spare for any of it. Every bit of focus he had was directed at Narumiya i.
Dealing with Narumiya alone was enough to consu him entirely.
Ever since Narumiya lost to Seido in the Sumr Tournant, his pitching had continued to evolve. The improvent was not just in speed. His changeup now exceeded 140 kiloters per hour, sothing the previous Narumiya i could never have achieved. He had evolved. Compared to two months ago, his level had climbed significantly.
Trying to approach him with old thods was unrealistic. Zhang Han needed a new rhythm, a new read.
And two consecutive changeups was a dangerous sign in itself.
Was Narumiya deliberately avoiding the fastball? Or was he trying to make Zhang Han think exactly that?
Harada Masakatsu behind the plate and Narumiya i on the mound had never struck Zhang Han as particularly deep opponents. Harada was powerful but overly conservative. Narumiya was, frankly, an idiot. Neither man could be described as profound or unfathomable.
But now, standing directly opposite them, Zhang Han felt sothing had changed. These two had beco harder to read.
They were setting sothing up.
He wasn't certain what their plan was, but he trusted his instincts. If they succeeded, his chances of being retired would rise sharply. He had to act before they could execute it. On the next pitch, as long as there wasn't a glaring flaw, he would swing. Even if it was another changeup, he would not hesitate.
This was nothing new. Ever since Zhang Han made a na for himself returning from Koshien, opponents had consistently targeted that weakness. Fa made you a target. Famous players were always the first ones studied and exploited.
Since Higashi Kiyokuni and the third-year seniors had left the team, Zhang Han had encountered this in nearly every ga. But he had not been crushed by it. If he had, would there be anyone left who still felt the need to get rid of him so badly?
He made up his mind. Next pitch, changeup or not he would swing.
Narumiya wound up with montum and released the ball.
Fast.
This one was faster than the previous two.
Zhang Han realized a beat too late that he had read it wrong. Narumiya had not been avoiding the fastball. He had been making Zhang Han believe he was avoiding it so that when it finally ca, it would arrive completely unexpected.
How ruthless.
And yet, the plan was not difficult to decode. Narumiya had not been sneaky about it. He had simply been honest and direct, trusting raw execution over misdirection.
Zhang Han was not about to let it go.
His bat whistled out and connected with the ball. The white baseball bounced high and fell behind catcher Harada and the umpire.
"Foul!"
One strike. One foul. Zhang Han had been pushed to two strikes.
In that mont, he finally understood what Kuramochi had said earlier about the pitch seeming to vanish. He had seen it clearly the ball had risen sharply as it reached his hands. A genuine rising fastball.
And it fascinated him.
In that pitch, Zhang Han glimpsed the direction of his own future growth. If he could refine his speed and control, could he not one day learn to throw sothing similar? A rising pitch with its own unique arc? A characteristic that would belong entirely to him?
If he could master it, he would no longer hit a ceiling. He could build a true identity as a pitcher.
He exhaled slowly.
Not now. The at-bat was not over. He pushed the thought aside and locked back in. There would be ti to think about it after the ga.
Right now, there was only one goal to hit the ball.
Zhang Han was quietly competing with himself.
What he did not know was that Harada, behind the plate, was frowning as he watched him.
These first-years from Seido were far more difficult to handle than anticipated. Kuramochi had already surprised him. Zhang Han was a bigger shock. Making contact with Narumiya's fastball on the very first exposure was not sothing most batters managed.
Going forward, he would have to be even more careful.
Harada glanced up toward the mound, ready to signal a strategy change, and stopped. Narumiya's face was set with a stubborn, unrelenting expression. He was not interested in adjusting. His will was firm.
Harada considered pushing back, then let it go. Disrupting a pitcher's rhythm during an at-bat carried its own risks. In this situation, it was better to let Narumiya work through it his way.
Narumiya did not wait. He launched imdiately into his next delivery.
Zhang Han narrowed his eyes inside the box.
Another fastball.
The motion was smoother than before. The speed was even higher. There was no need to guess this was a fastball, and its trajectory was clear from the mont it left Narumiya's hand.
So he wanted to settle it with back-to-back fastballs.
A cold smile crossed Zhang Han's face. He locked onto the incoming ball and swung without hesitation. He had aid one ball's width above the trajectory last ti. If that still wasn't enough, he would go higher one and a half.
Ping.
The bat moved like lightning. It connected solidly, and the white baseball launched far into the distance.
Zhang Han pumped his fist.
He had guessed right. The ball had risen almost exactly one and a half lengths above a standard fastball. If he could learn to command that movent to control the rise and fall precisely he would carve out sothing entirely his own.
A style no one could take from him.
As long as he worked for it, it was within reach.
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