"Was he holding back this much power before?"
When Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball suddenly exploded with strength, striking out Sato—the cleanup hitter of Osaka Kiryu—the dugout buzzed with disbelief.
From their perspective, the only reason Zhou Hao hadn't used such a dominant Spiral Ball earlier was to conserve stamina.
But now, everything had changed.
Osaka Kiryu held the lead. Zhou Hao had no choice—if Seidou was to rally, he needed to shut their offense down completely. Straight balls and breaking pitches weren't enough anymore. Even if he got outs with them, once Osaka Kiryu adapted, they'd find a way to hit him.
But the Spiral Ball was different.
Earlier, both Kuroda and Sato had connected with it. Now, Sato couldn't even touch it.
What did that an?
It ant that from here on, Osaka Kiryu had virtually no chance of hitting Zhou Hao.
Though Seidou was still down by one run, the tide had shifted. If nothing unexpected happened, Seidou's batters only needed to focus on catching up. They no longer had to worry about their ace surrendering more runs.
That was the essence of being an Ace. He didn't just silence bats—he gave his team belief. The kind of belief that they would win.
And Zhou Hao embodied that perfectly.
Yet, Director Matsumoto of Osaka Kiryu saw it differently.
He didn't believe Zhou Hao had been "holding back" earlier. To him, the Spiral Ball Zhou Hao had thrown at the start was already full strength. The reason its power grew mid-ga… was because Zhou Hao himself was growing.
Unscientific? Perhaps. But anyone who had experienced Koshien knew—so players transford under its pressure.
Zhou Hao was one of them.
Still, Matsumoto had no ti to explain this to his players. There was only one thing that mattered now: protect their one-run lead.
Bottom of the sixth inning. Seidou at bat.
On the mound, Kan Hiromi delivered a pitch—one strike, one ball—then followed up with his signature breaking ball.
Matsumoto, desperate to spark Seidou's offense, gritted his teeth and swung.
Ping!
The ball skipped along the ground and was scooped up, fired to first.
Pop!
"Out!"
One down, nobody on base.
Next up—Seidou's pitcher, number 20: Zhou Hao.
The crowd stirred with anticipation. Against Kan Hiromi, most expected Zhou Hao to crush the ball with ease. To them, this matchup looked like free noodles at a self-service shop.
But just as excitent peaked—Osaka Kiryu made a move.
Kuroda jogged back from the outfield to the mound. Kan Hiromi was pulled, a new fielder subbed in.
"Lineup shuffle?"
"They're putting Kuroda back in already?"
Surprised murmurs rippled through the stands.
A Baseball Kingdom reporter, notebook in hand, wasn't shocked at all.
"After seeing Zhou Hao's last inning, Director Matsumoto can't afford to gamble."
Kuroda had only rested for just over one inning—far from ideal. But this was Koshien. Both teams knew: if you lost now, there was no "later."
It was Zhou Hao versus Kuroda—round three.
Zhou Hao's Sharingan flared, scarlet streaks flashing across his eyes as he locked onto Kuroda.
On the mound, Kuroda unleashed a 155 km/h fastball, a cannonball screaming toward the plate.
"You can't rely on eyesight alone," Zhou Hao reminded himself. "You have to feel the ball."
Boom!
The pitch blazed past, but this ti Zhou Hao's vision was sharper than ever. He could even make out the tiny spinning dot on the ball.
He didn't wait.
His bat whipped around in a perfect arc, muscles straining as he poured everything into the swing.
Whizz!
The cut of the bat through air made the catcher flinch. For a split second, he thought Zhou Hao had crushed it.
Then—
Ping!
Contact. The ball soared, drawing gasps from the stands.
Would this erase Osaka Kiryu's lead?
The ball carried fifty… sixty ters… but then began to drop.
The outfielder, already positioned, sprinted forward and snared it cleanly.
Pop!
"Out!!"
Two down, bases empty.
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