"Just one more out!"
The careless Masuko was eventually tagged out at second base. The Freshman Team now had two outs.
Although they had given up a run, in the current situation it wasn't unacceptable. What mattered most was securing the final out.
As long as they ended the inning here, barring any surprises, the final score would settle at 11 to 3.
The Freshman Team was destined to lose, and to lose badly. But after seeing firsthand the strength of the Old-tirs Team and their own excellent players performing well—they could accept it. The process was ssy, and the outco was miserable, but they were new. That alone made it understandable.
Especially for Zhang Han, ending this inning cleanly carried enormous weight. It would directly influence how Coach Kataoka and the coaching staff evaluated his pitching.
With that in mind, facing the final batter, Zhang Han naturally used everything he had.
He threw what he considered his best pitch of the day.
"Whoosh!"
The white ball was faster than ever. The batter didn't even have ti to react before it shot through the strike zone and slamd into Ono's mitt.
"Thwack!"
"Strike!"
"Thwack!"
"Strike!!"
Two consecutive strikes put the batter in a bind.
One more and he would be out. Even if Zhang Han didn't strike him out, he could throw sothing tempting and force a bad swing.
"Good pitch!"
"Finish him here!"
The freshn in the dugout had red eyes.
Under Zhang Han's overpowering pitching, their fear of the upperclassn seed to fade away. After all, the seniors hadn't dominated them completely. If Chris hadn't joined the Old-tirs, the outco might have been an even match.
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With this feeling swelling inside them, the freshn didn't feel tired at all. They could go another three hundred rounds if necessary. And maybe, just maybe they could earn a First String or Second String slot.
"How arrogant."
The short senior in the batter's box showed no tension at all. His expression was calm, eyes slightly narrowed, and he wore a faint smile.
Unlike the grim-faced second- and third-years, he looked almost gentle… as if he was genuinely pleased by Zhang Han's performance.
"Last pitch!"
But Kominato Ryosuke's expression made no difference. Zhang Han saw nothing except the obsession to get the final out.
Like soone in a trance, he launched the ball again, pouring all his strength into the pitch.
"Whoosh!"
Even in his extre state, Zhang Han didn't weaken. The pitch still carried its full speed and power, reaching Kominato in the blink of an eye.
"So fast!"
That was Ono Hiroshi's first reaction. Along with the shock, a small spark of hope ignited.
A ball that fast should be almost impossible to hit well. Even if the opponent managed to connect, it wouldn't be a clean hit.
"Good!"
Ono clenched his fist internally. He could already picture the out.
But the next mont destroyed his entire worldview.
"Ping!"
The bat made contact but instead of sending the ball forward, it rely tapped it. The baseball changed direction, grazing upward and dropping behind the catcher.
"Ball!"
If it were just this pitch, Ono would chalk it up to luck.
But luck alone can't defeat Zhang Han.
"Great pitch! Keep attacking!"
Ono stayed positive. Even though the senior's reaction was impressive, he believed Zhang Han would handle him.
Then ca the second foul.
"Ping!"
"Foul!"
This ti, Ono felt sothing snap inside.
The first foul he thought was coincidence. But two in a row, both precisely controlled?
This wasn't luck. This was skill.
Fouling off every pitch in the strike zone required remarkable technique, patience, and vision. Ono had played countless gas since Matsukata, and he had never faced soone like this.
He was witnessing sothing new entirely.
Zhang Han, too, had never encountered such a batter. But unlike Ono who was nearly terrified, Zhang Han beca more determined.
He refused to believe this short senior could foul off everything.
"Whoosh!"
He fired another pitch with full power.
"Ping!"
Another foul.
Zhang Han then threw a borderline ball to lure a swing. Kominato didn't move.
"Thwack!"
"Ball!"
Another lure pitch.
"Thwack!"
"Ball!!"
Two consecutive balls and Kominato didn't budge once. He didn't just have superb hitting skills he had razor-sharp eyes.
Zhang Han's options were diminishing.
The duel stretched on for fifteen full pitches.
Finally:
"Ball!"
"Four balls, walk to first base."
The mont the result echoed, the Old-tirs dugout exploded. They had been through hell in this welco ga. In the past, seniors always bullied the freshn easily. Freshn were toys obedient, helpless, unable to resist.
But this ti? This ti, they had been pushed around by a first-year. Now, at last, they had sothing to celebrate. They roared to vent all the frustration bottled up until now.
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