Top of the eighth inning. Seidou High is on offense.
In the stands, the players from Ichidai Third High watched with tense expressions.
"I never imagined today's ga would turn out like this…"
The score was still locked at 3–3 between Inashiro Industrial and Seidou High. As the eighth inning began, the outco hung in the balance.
Every mont felt critical. Every pitch had the power to tip the scales.
What surprised everyone most was that, in the latter half of the ga, the spotlight had shifted onto two first-year prodigies:
Narumiya i, the rising ace of Inashiro.
Zhou Hao, the monster rookie batter of Seidou.
"They'll face each other twice in this inning. That could very well decide the ga,"
said Manaka, the second-year ace of Ichidai Third, calmly analyzing the situation.
The other Ichidai players nodded in agreent. From their eyes, too, it was clear—the ga had entered its final, most dangerous phase.
"So... which first-year will co out on top?"
As the conversation faded into the crowd's buzz, Matsumoto stepped into the batter's box.
Batting second today, Zhou Hao waited quietly in the on-deck circle.
It was his second ti facing Narumiya i.
Despite having had a solid hit in their previous encounter, both Seidou batters knew very well:
Hitting off Narumiya i was never a matter of luck.
Matsumoto steadied his grip on the bat, repeating the sa thought over and over in his mind:
"No mistakes. Treat this guy like the strongest pitcher in the country. Give it everything. No retreat!"
The first pitch ca.
"Whoosh!"
Matsumoto gritted his teeth and swung with all his might.
"Ping!"
The bat made contact—but it wasn't enough. The ball flew short and was fielded cleanly.
"Pop!"
"Out!"
One out. No runners on base.
In Seidou's dugout, the tension rose.
"Is Narumiya i completely suppressing us?"
The first-year ace pitcher of Inashiro was like an unscalable wall.
No matter how evenly matched the ga had been up to now, if Seidou couldn't break through Narumiya soon—
Victory would slip away.
"Second batter, number 20, pitcher—Zhou Hao!"
As the announcer's voice echoed across the stadium, the crowd erupted.
"Zhou Hao!!"
"C'mon, blast it outta here!"
"Let Inashiro's i see who the real rookie king is!"
So far, Zhou Hao was three-for-three at the plate—a perfect batting average today.
Even though Inashiro had the montum, the fans believed in one thing:
As long as Zhou Hao stepped into the box, there was hope.
Even Seidou's players in the dugout exchanged glances.
They already knew Zhou Hao was popular, but… this?
The atmosphere was electric, unreal.
"The fans aren't just cheering for him," Coach Kataoka said, his voice calm but firm.
"They're counting on us to deliver. This is our chance to score."
The players nodded with renewed determination.
They had to get on the scoreboard now.
Zhou Hao stepped into the batter's box, bat in hand.
He took a deep breath and activated his Sharingan.
His crimson eyes locked onto Narumiya i.
On the mound, i narrowed his eyes.
"What are you staring at? You think you can beat twice?"
He wound up.
"If you've got the guts, hit my fastball again!"
The ball shot forward—sharp, straight, and blazing with intensity.
"Whoosh!"
Zhou Hao watched.
He didn't swing.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
The stadium gasped.
The fans and players alike were shocked.
"Why didn't he swing?!"
Zhou Hao was known for his aggressive approach—especially in clutch monts.
But now?
He let a fastball go by without even flinching.
"Maybe he's just being cautious. He has three strikes to work with, after all…"
So fans tried to reason it out.
But those familiar with Zhou Hao's style knew—this was not like him.
Still, they held their breath and waited.
Their belief in him didn't waver.
Back on the mound, Narumiya i sneered.
"So you're still waiting for a breaking ball?"
"Forget it. I'm not giving you one."
He'd noticed it.
Zhou Hao—who had crushed sliders and curves—seed to avoid his fastball.
And that ant sothing:
Either Zhou Hao lacked confidence in hitting it,
or he was genuinely afraid of i's straight pitch.
Whichever it was, i's decision was clear.
"I'll crush you with my fastball."
He wound up for the second pitch, his body coiled like a spring.
Zhou Hao's Sharingan spun.
Both were locked in—a battle of eyes, of will, of raw talent.
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