One out. Runner on second base.
The third batter of Seidou High School, Yuki Tetsuya, stepped into the batter's box.
Across from him stood the Ace of Inashiro Industrial High School, quietly watching.
His gaze was locked—not on Yuki, but on the figure standing at second base: Zhou Hao.
A bitter taste filled his mouth.
Zhou Hao's earlier hit wasn't monstrous, but… here he was. Standing on second. Threatening to score. Putting pressure on Inashiro's entire defense.
And now, Yuki was at the plate, and Azuma Kiyokuni, the cleanup hitter, was in the on-deck circle.
"When did Seidou's batting lineup beco this terrifying?"
The Ace of Inashiro knew Seidou better than most in West Tokyo.
But this—this lineup was sothing else.
He had prepared for Yoshida in the second slot. A strong but readable batter.
As long as he shut down Seidou's top two, he could pitch against Yuki and Azuma under lower pressure—two outs, no runners.
But now?
Zhou Hao had disrupted everything.
"We're the ones on the back foot now…"
He clenched his fist on the mound.
Before the ga, he'd promised his team: "I'll keep it under three runs."
But right now, even one run felt like too much.
Still, he stood tall.
As the Ace, he wouldn't back down. Not here. Not now.
Whoosh!
He fired the ball with everything he had.
Yuki didn't flinch.
Still as stone until the last instant—then like lightning, he swung.
"Boom!"
The crack of the bat echoed across the stadium.
"Ping!"
The ball scread toward the gap between first and second base.
Inashiro's second baseman dived instinctively.
His reaction was lightning-fast.
But the ball was faster.
It zipped past his glove like a bullet, skimming the grass before blasting into the outfield.
"It's through!!"
The Seidou dugout erupted.
Zhou Hao was already on the move—rounding third with eyes on ho.
The third base coach gave him the signal to keep going.
Zhou Hao didn't hesitate.
He sprinted full speed toward the plate, the roar of the stadium echoing in his ears.
"So fast!"
"Wait, who is that in the outfield?!"
From deep right field, Inashiro's outfielder had already scooped up the ball.
He set his stance, pivoted, and let it fly—
"Whoosh!!"
The throw ca in like a missile, cutting the air on its way to ho plate.
Seidou's cheers froze.
This was bad.
Zhou Hao was still four ters from the plate when the ball landed clean in the catcher's glove.
"Snap!"
The Inashiro catcher crouched low, glove ready, blocking the plate.
It looked like a sure out.
But in that split-second—
Zhou Hao's Sharingan activated.
Everything slowed.
The catcher's glove ca sweeping in.
And then—
Zhou Hao leapt.
His body twisted mid-air, legs splitting above the crouched catcher.
He soared over his head, a shadow flashing past the glove that reached up too late.
The crowd gasped in disbelief.
The catcher spun to tag him from behind—
But Zhou Hao had already flipped mid-air, dove forward—
And his fingertips grazed ho plate.
"SAFE!!!!"
"He did it!!"
"Seidou scores first!"
The scoreboard changed: 1–0, Seidou.
One out. Runner on first.
The offense continued.
"Wow!!"
The Seidou dugout exploded with renewed energy.
"We're in the lead!!!"
Zhou Hao stood up, brushing dust from his uniform, eyes calm—even after pulling off an impossible play.
Inashiro looked stunned.
What they just witnessed wasn't just athleticism.
It was genius.
It was Zhou Hao.
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