The ga had entered the bottom of the fifth inning, and the Hachioji High School baseball team was up to bat.
The score was 3–0 in favor of Seidou High School.
Despite Hachioji's earlier display of resilience, everyone understood one thing:
Their chances of staging a coback today were slim to none.
The players of Hachioji would never give up easily—but realistically, the outco was already leaning heavily in Seidou's favor.
From Seidou's perspective, the question now wasn't if they would win—it was how they would win.
And that mattered.
Even if Seidou High School was confident in securing the victory, the manner in which they won would directly influence future matchups. Their next opponent would study this ga closely to adjust their strategy. Likewise, Seidou's own players could be ntally affected depending on how the rest of this match played out.
The closer they got to sealing the win, the more Coach Kataoka wished for another pitcher.
Yoshida, their current ace, was undoubtedly among the top pitchers in Tokyo—perhaps even the entire country—when he was in top form.
But stamina was his Achilles' heel.
Once his adrenaline wore off, his performance dipped significantly.
From the best in the country, he would drop to second-tier status in Tokyo.
Second-tier in Tokyo wasn't necessarily bad—but when you compared it to his peak form, the drop-off was obvious and disappointing.
In fact, signs of Yoshida's decline were already apparent in the fourth inning.
Coach Kataoka knew this better than anyone.
If they had capitalized earlier and scored five or six runs, then keeping Yoshida on the mound wouldn't have been a problem.
But they had only managed to squeeze out two runs despite a golden opportunity.
They now had to admit that their opponents were not pushovers—in fact, Hachioji was pretty strong.
To wrap up this match cleanly, Seidou needed to show a clear gap in strength between them and Hachioji.
And that ant one thing: it was ti to change pitchers.
Zhou Hao was their secret weapon.
According to Coach Kataoka's original plan, Zhou Hao was ant to deliver the finishing blow at a critical mont.
But now, sending him in when victory was nearly certain might be a waste of his talent.
Their other option was Danbo, a second-year pitcher.
Danbo specialized in high-drop curveballs and, when pitching well, could easily rank among the best in Tokyo.
But if he gave up a hit early—especially with runners on base—his performance would plumt.
So putting Zhou Hao in might be overkill.
But putting Danbo in could invite unnecessary risk.
And keeping Yoshida on the mound was also risky—he was starting to show cracks, and exposing his weaknesses would only benefit Seidou's future opponents.
Coach Kataoka weighed his options carefully, his eyes darting between the pitchers.
All three of them noticed.
Chris, the team's main catcher, stepped forward to offer advice.
But before he could speak, Zhou Hao stood up.
He had noticed Coach Kataoka's hesitation.
Zhou Hao didn't know exactly why the coach was reconsidering his plan—but either way, he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by.
After all, Zhou Hao could only earn experience points when he was pitching.
Even though he had perford well in a previous ga, and the team had won, Zhou Hao himself had gained nothing from that match.
It had been a wasted chance.
"Coach—let pitch!"
Zhou Hao not only stood up, but raised his hand high to show his determination.
"I can still pitch. It's not ti for the so-called secret weapon yet."
Yoshida, feeling that his ace status was being challenged, couldn't help but speak up.
Coach Kataoka was still hesitant. Danbo remained silent.
Kataoka narrowed his eyes.
He knew Zhou Hao's pitching had its flaws—especially his stamina. After too many innings, he couldn't sustain his performance.
And surely Zhou Hao knew this too?
Of course he did.
But even knowing that, Zhou Hao stood up without hesitation.
When Danbo had first joined the team, he'd been ambitious. As a substitute in junior high, he had longed for redemption and a shot at being the ace.
But whether it was habit or the psychological weight of his past, he'd never developed the ntal strength required to claim that title.
Yoshida, even at his worst, still pitched at a respectable level and never lost his sense of responsibility as an ace.
He could push himself into a better state under pressure.
And now Zhou Hao—a first-year—was showing more ace-like responsibility and desire than Danbo ever had.
Should Zhou Hao take the mound?
Coach Kataoka remained uncertain.
After all, this wasn't a crisis mont. Letting Zhou Hao pitch now would only ensure a clean win—but was it really necessary?
Just as he wavered, Chris finally spoke up.
But before he could finish, Zhou Hao interrupted.
"I know this isn't a critical situation. Anyone can pitch here. But that's exactly why I should be the one to go. I've played in major tournants before—but I've never pitched in an official ga like this…"
His voice was steady, sincere.
Sincerity—Zhou Hao's true weapon.
He had laid everything bare just for the chance to stand on that mound.
Even Chris couldn't stop him now.
Though Zhou Hao had interrupted him, Chris still supported him in the end.
"Coach, let Zhou Hao pitch. What he needs most right now is experience in high-level gas."
Sure, batting gave Zhou Hao so experience points.
But those were just minor boosts.
What he really needed was experience on the mound.
Zhou Hao silently apologized in his heart.
He had thought Chris would try to preserve his role as a secret weapon.
He didn't expect his senior to actually help him.
"Alright," Coach Kataoka finally nodded.
"The Seidou High School baseball team will now change pitchers. Yoshida-san will move to the outfield. No. 20, Zhou Hao-san, will take the mound."
Without any warning, Seidou suddenly changed pitchers.
This made the scouts from other teams, who had co to study Seidou, instantly tense.
Did Seidou just reveal a new ace?
Had they found a true hidden gem?
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POWER STONE!!!
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