"Wow!"
"He caught it again!"
"Look at Omae's face—he's just as shocked as we are, right?"
The stands buzzed with disbelief. Even among Seido High School's supporters, confusion spread.
They had co to watch Zhou Hao pitch, fully expecting him to dominate. His ability to overwhelm batters was beyond doubt. But the way it was happening now felt… strange.
Zhou Hao had just retired three batters in a row, yet his pitches didn't look overpowering. Strong, yes—but not unhittable. Sothing was off.
While fans whispered among themselves, the professional comntator spoke with a spark of admiration.
"Amazing."
His co-host blinked. "Amazing? That last sequence? Was Zhou Hao's pitching really that amazing?"
He wasn't the only one wondering. Thousands of spectators leaned forward, waiting for an explanation. They needed to know what exactly they had just witnessed.
The comntator nodded firmly. "Of course. Didn't you see the stances of Ichidai Third's batters? Their lowered centers of gravity, the way they set themselves—they were fully prepared to drag this rookie into a long fight."
He tapped the desk for emphasis.
"Zhou Hao is a first-year pitcher. Even if Ichidai scouted his last ga, they couldn't be sure they could beat him head-on. Inashiro lost because they tried exactly that. So Ichidai learned their lesson. Their strategy was to wear him down, force him to throw more pitches, and burn out his stamina. After all, Zhou Hao's endurance is his biggest weakness."
The comntator's voice rose with excitent.
"But Seido saw through it. They flipped the script and forced Ichidai's batters into direct confrontation. Three pitches. Three outs. Their entire strategy collapsed before it even began."
Only then did the Seido supporters grasp the brilliance of what had happened. Their confusion gave way to roaring cheers.
"Zhou Hao!"
"Zhou Hao!!!"
The chants thundered through Jingu Stadium. Then ca the jeers, directed squarely at Ichidai Third.
"To pull such a dirty trick on our rookie?"
"If you can't win fair and square, just quit already!"
"West Tokyo doesn't need three powerhouses anymore. From now on, it's the era of two!"
Ichidai's dugout seethed. The players clenched their fists at the insults.
Director Tahara, however, remained thoughtful, stroking his chin.
"Boys, we have a problem. That's no ordinary straight ball—it's a wicked one."
The players nearly rolled their eyes. Of course it was weird. If we hadn't figured that out after three batters, we might as well bash our heads on the wall.
But Tahara's voice grew serious.
"Zhou Hao can control vertical movent on his straight ball. That's why Inashiro couldn't touch him last ga. Now we've seen it with our own eyes."
The truth hit them hard. You couldn't react to such a pitch with your eyes. By the ti it was close enough, the ball would already be rising or dipping.
"It's a gamble," Tahara admitted. "But in a gamble, we have no reason to lose."
With that understanding, Ichidai's batters steadied themselves. They knew their original plan was useless. Round one had already been lost—completely.
Bottom of the first inning.
Seido stepped up to bat.
"Leading off, shortstop, Matsumoto!"
On the mound, Ichidai's ace pitcher, Kimura, stood like a statue. His expressionless face matched the icy aura he radiated.
The first pitch ca slicing in with surgical precision—right at Matsumoto's weakest spot.
"Strike!"
Matsumoto watched it pass, unfazed. The second pitch ca, and this ti he swung.
Ping!
The ball skipped across the infield dirt. Ichidai's players exhaled in relief—routine play.
But then the bounce shifted ever so slightly. The fielder scooped it up, but that tiny hesitation gave Matsumoto just enough ti. With his long strides, he slid safely across first base.
"Safe!"
No outs, runner on first.
Seido's second batter stepped forward.
"Batting second, number 20—pitcher, Zhou Hao!"
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