One out, runner on first base.
Zhang Han, covering first base, took the opportunity to chat with Manaka, who had just made it there safely. The two were old acquaintances, so the conversation came naturally.
"See? Our pitcher's got his eyes locked on you," Zhang Han said with a grin. "Let me tell you a little secret—he's a total dog-skin plaster. Once he latches onto you, there's no shaking him off."
"You think I'm buying that?" Manaka rolled his eyes. "I don't trust a word you say."
Still, Manaka couldn't help but feel Tianjiu's intense gaze from the mound. He had been planning to steal second, but the pressure made him hold back.
Despite being just one year apart, the high school players bore a much heavier psychological burden. It wasn't just about winning or losing points—it was about saving face. Getting picked off by a younger junior high student on base would be utterly humiliating. Even if the chances were slim, none of them dared to take that risk, especially when they already held a significant lead.
Seeing Manaka stay put, Zhang Han breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Tianjiu wasn't watching Manaka to prevent a steal—he was simply unwilling to let go of a play without trying to one-up his opponent.
As for Tianjiu's actual skills in pickoffs and holding runners? Zhang Han had zero faith.
Back when the Matsukata Little League played practice games against Ishikawa, Zhang Han had been on the field. He knew this opponent—especially their ace pitcher, who was obsessed with throwing pitches but negligent about every other responsibility of a pitcher. Pickoffs, base awareness, and strategy were all things Tianjiu largely ignored. His passion started and ended with pitching itself.
This flaw was one of the reasons Matsukata's team often had the upper hand when facing Ishikawa. They knew how to exploit Tianjiu's tunnel vision.
Zhang Han mentally checked that worry off his list.
"Ping!"
"Foul ball!"
The ball was struck again and went out of bounds, sparking excitement from the middle school dugout.
They'd seen three other middle school pitchers get completely overwhelmed by the first-year high school players. But with Tianjiu on the mound, things were different. His pitching was still holding up.
Originally, the middle school team had hoped the freshman batters would take time to adjust to Tianjiu's unique pitching style. But they were shocked—these seniors, just one year older, had lightning-fast swing speeds and uncanny timing. Tianjiu's fastball, which usually outpaced any middle school batter, wasn't so overpowering here.
"Damn, are these guys even human?"
Before, they thought they were holding their own. But seeing how easily these freshmen kept up with Tianjiu's fastball, they started to realize how far behind they really were.
Even Zhang Han was surprised.
He'd always believed that while high school players were generally stronger, the best middle school talents could still compete. But Tianjiu—who had thrown a pro-level changeup—was struggling.
If he, a standout middle schooler, couldn't suppress these guys, what did that say about the gap?
So far, Tianjiu's unfamiliarity worked in his favor. But once the opponents adapted to his style, hits would come.
Just as Zhang Han was getting worried, the game shifted again.
Tianjiu threw another of his signature sliders. The second batter from the high school team swung without hesitation.
"Ping!"
The bat connected, but something was off—the batter winced at the impact. The contact was awkward. The ball veered away and landed in Sasaki's defensive zone.
Sasaki reacted instantly, fielding the ball cleanly and tossing it to second base. The second baseman quickly threw it to Zhang Han at first.
"Out!"
"Out!!"
"Double play!!"
Just like that, they escaped the inning.
From the edge of the field, the assistant coach of the city's third high school watched thoughtfully.
"That third baseman is sharp," he muttered.
To perform flawlessly under such pressure against a top high school squad? That spoke volumes about Sasaki's potential.
Supervisor Tahara nodded slightly. Tianjiu's pitch made the play possible, but without Sasaki's quick execution, it wouldn't have happened.
Three outs. Change sides.
The middle school team came off the field for their turn at bat.
Back in the dugout, Tianjiu made his way over to Zhang Han.
"Hey, tell me straight—was the deviation on my slider too big?"
"You're a genius," Zhang Han replied, voice dry.
"So you're saying it was a great pitch?"
Sasaki and Adachi both nodded eagerly.
With a pitcher like Tianjiu leading them, they could finally perform at their best.
Zhang Han glanced at Tianjiu, then looked away, disinterested.
Even though they hadn't given up any runs and ended with a double play, Zhang Han was too practical to feel satisfied.
They were still trailing. The odds of a comeback were slim. Scoring, let alone winning, seemed out of reach.
"There's no turning the tide now," he thought. "All I can do is prove my worth without dragging the team down."
Zhang Han wasn't one to dwell on past glory.
He only cared about what came next.