"Ping!"
The white baseball shot high into the air.
Ikeda High School's shortstop was already waiting beneath it and caught it securely in his glove.
"Pop!"
"Out!"
Miyuki was out.
A few fans who had been eagerly anticipating his performance sighed in disappointnt.
"I thought that guy was supposed to be amazing!"
"Yeah, in that ga against Osaka Kiryu, he was the one who turned everything around in the end."
In the stands, Takashima Rei happened to overhear the conversation.
"Miyuki's batting potential only truly shines when there are runners on base," she said softly.
Right now, Seidou High School's bases were empty—no runners in sight. Naturally, Miyuki couldn't unleash his terrifying clutch power.
In truth, it wasn't just Miyuki. It wasn't even just Seidou.
Many young players had their own weaknesses.
Even the mighty Azuma Kiyokuni, as powerful as he was, occasionally made careless mistakes.
Forr Ace Yoshida lacked pitch stability.
Another pitcher, Tanba—who hadn't yet appeared on the mound—tended to crumble under pressure when runners were on base.
And then, there was Zhou Hao—the so-called "strongest rookie."
When it ca to Zhou Hao, Takashima Rei found herself montarily speechless.
Before this, she could have listed a dozen flaws in his pitching.
But now… upon reflection, Zhou Hao had overco most of them on his own.
The only issue left was stamina—and honestly, that couldn't be blad on him.
After all, he was just a fifteen-year-old boy who had only recently entered high school.
His Spiral Ball was already an arm-destroying monster. Even a professional pitcher would struggle to throw it deep into a ga.
Even if Zhou Hao's stamina held up, his arms and wrists couldn't possibly endure the recoil forever.
It was the sa reason why certain elite fastball pitchers couldn't dominate the entire nine innings—they burned out too quickly.
"Zhou Hao… he really is unfathomable," Rei murmured.
With No. 8 batter Isashiki Jun grounding out, Seidou's offense ca to an end.
The score remained 2–0.
The ga moved into the top of the sixth inning.
So fans in the crowd couldn't help but exclaim:
"The pace of this ga is insane!"
"What can you expect? Both teams' pitchers are monsters. Every inning is crushed by defense—no ti for offense at all!"
Few runners reached base. Every mont was a battle of pitcher versus batter.
Naturally, the ga flew by.
Ikeda High's No. 7 and No. 8 batters were both retired in order.
Two outs. No one on base.
Opportunities for Ikeda were slipping away fast.
So fans began to grumble.
"Weren't they supposed to be the strongest dark horse of the tournant? I don't see it at all."
"Other than their pitcher, the rest look like fillers."
"They can't even handle Yoshida—and they think they can challenge Zhou Hao? What a joke!"
Ikeda's performance had beco so one-sided that so spectators were losing interest.
"This is Ikeda's style," one observer comnted. "They're not an offensive team—they win through defense."
"What good is defense if the ga's already slipping away?"
As the chatter continued, Ikeda's Coach finally made a move.
He turned to the dugout and shouted:
"We can't wait until the last inning. Agawa—you're up!"
The player nad Agawa looked up, nodded firmly, and said in a booming voice,
"Leave it to !"
The way he spoke gave the impression he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
"Isn't it a bit early to send Agawa out?"
The team captain in the dugout asked hesitantly.
"We don't have ti! If we don't send him now, we might not even get a hit!"
Agawa lumbered out of the dugout. He was enormous—around 185 centiters tall and easily over 100 kilograms.
Standing in the batter's box, he looked like a mountain of muscle.
Miyuki narrowed his eyes, studying the newcor.
A quick glance was enough for him to grasp Ikeda's intent.
"So this is their secret weapon…"
Ikeda hadn't used this player before—not once.
That alone told Miyuki that this was their hidden card, saved for a critical mont.
"Be careful," he called to Yoshida. "This guy's probably their special weapon."
The score stood at 2–0.
Top of the sixth. Two outs.
If Miyuki were in Ikeda's Coach's position, he would've done the sa.
It was still too early to give up.
Seidou had their own vulnerabilities that hadn't surfaced yet.
Ikeda still had a chance—however slim—to turn things around.
And no team would willingly surrender when that chance still existed.
So if this pinch-hitter had never been used before…
Then there was only one explanation: he was their secret trump card.
His surna matched Ikeda's No. 2 batter.
Probably a pair of brothers, Miyuki guessed.
He gave Yoshida a subtle signal.
"Test him first. Inside pitch."
Yoshida, standing tall on the mound, felt a spark of excitent.
Finally—a batter worth facing.
Until now, pitching to Ikeda's lineup had been dull.
They were weak—not even close to Osaka Kiryu's level, nor to their rivals from West Tokyo.
But this guy… he looked interesting.
With a smirk, Yoshida lifted his leg and unleashed the pitch.
"Swish!"
The ball shot forward like a streak of light.
It looked like it was coming straight at Agawa.
But the instant the ball entered his range, the big man's eyes sharpened.
He gripped the bat tight and swung with terrifying force.
"Boom!"
The bat cut through the air like thunder.
"Ping!"
The white baseball connected—and soared into the sky.
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