Even though Zhou Hao arrived a little late, he still managed to put away a good al — no sense in wasting food.
That night, exhaustion couldn't fully outweigh excitent. Many Seido players lay in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep coming in restless fits.
Before and during the ga, their thoughts had been simple:
Beat the opponent. Vent their frustration.
Now, with the reality sinking in — they had actually taken down the perennial king of West Tokyo — the feeling was almost dreamlike.
The next morning, a light fog hung over the school grounds.
Half-asleep and still carrying the aftertaste of victory, the team shuffled toward the field.
When they got there, sothing caught their eye.
"Who's in the bullpen this early?"
Morning practice hadn't even started, yet soone was already out there.
Curious, the group wandered closer — and found four people inside.
Alongside their director stood Chris and Miyuki, both in full gear.
"You're back! How's the arm?" soone blurted.
Chris hadn't been at school the night before. While word had spread that his injury wasn't serious, everyone had still been worried.
"The doctor says a week of rest. Looks like I won't be playing in the finals." Chris smiled, but the curve of his mouth didn't quite reach his eyes.
In truth, the diagnosis was harsher than he let on.
"You're too reckless, kid! Your wrist, your whole arm — they're on the verge of ruin! Even pros have to train smart. Do you think you can just push endlessly without paying the price?"
Years of overwork don't fade just because you stop going full throttle. And Chris had never truly stopped — only slowed.
Ota's voice ca out uneasy. "So… what now?"
"Two weeks minimum, then we'll see. Even if I play, I won't be the sa." Chris kept his tone light. There was no point adding extra weight to his teammates' shoulders.
Soone tried to lift the mood. "Then rest well. We've still got Miyuki — that kid can handle it."
"It's only one ga," another chid in. "He's up to it!"
Chris nodded, this ti letting the encouragent in.
"What's Zhou Hao doing, waking up so early?" one of the players asked.
Zhou Hao had gone back to his rented place after dinner. But at dawn, a phone call from Coach Kataoka dragged him out of bed and back to school — where both catchers were already waiting.
"We're testing him," Chris said, and this ti the smile was genuine. Even he was surprised at how much Zhou Hao had improved overnight.
"Testing what?"
"Control."
As Chris answered, Zhou Hao wound up and delivered.
Whoosh!
The white ball split through the fog, slamming into Miyuki's mitt.
Thwack! Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel·fire·net
"Strike!"
Miyuki's eyes lit up. He'd already noticed it in yesterday's late innings — Zhou Hao's fastball command had sharpened dramatically.
"He's not nailing the nine-square grid yet," Miyuki thought, "but he's already got the four-square down."
Four-square control — cutting the strike zone into four equal quadrants and hitting whichever one you want, on command.
Few pitchers among the 4,000-plus high schools in Japan can do that. For a pitcher, it's a lethal weapon.
"Just throwing at an empty zone isn't enough," Chris said. "You need live opposition."
"Next," a voice bood from behind, "let be your opponent!"
Azuma Kiyokuni stepped forward, belly first, gripping a bat like he ant it.
"This is the bullpen! What are you doing? Go run laps!" Coach Kataoka's forehead veins throbbed dangerously.
The roar sent most of the onlookers scattering into their running drills.
Zhou Hao, however, was excused. With the finals looming against Ichidai Third, preserving his stamina was critical.
Ichidai's semifinal win over Sen'en — in just seven innings — had been a statent. Beating a semifinal-caliber team in rcy-rule fashion was no fluke.
After practice, Azuma ca back for seconds.
"Let face that fastball. I love fastballs."
Zhou Hao smiled. "Then I won't hold back."
Batting practice without a batter is theory. Facing a heavy hitter in real ti — that's where you forge weapons for ga day.
Soon, their showdown drew a crowd.
From the director's office, Ota fidgeted. "Should I go stop them?"
After all, Zhou Hao was their shield — and Azuma their spear. The finals were days away. Did they really want their best clashing now?
"The kids have their own ideas," Coach Kataoka said, eyes fixed on the field. "Let them."
It wasn't their first duel — but this ti Zhou Hao would rely purely on his fastball.
Azma knew its traits well… and was holding his biggest tal bat.
Spear versus shield. The finals were still ahead — but this battle was about to be fought right here.
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