Zhou Hao returned to the pitcher's mound.
The original ace, Yoshida, swapped positions and took his place in the outfield.
A substitution at this stage of the game could have caused turmoil in the team's morale.
Spectators, scouts, and rivals alike watched intently, searching for any flaw in Seido High School Baseball Team's armor.
Any weakness at all.
A crack in the armor meant opportunity.
But no matter how hard they looked…
The players of Seido remained calm.
Too calm. So composed that it was almost unnerving—like this pitcher switch was just another routine play. Not worth fussing over.
"Are these guys really this fearless?"
Even the players of Ichidai Third High School felt a chill run down their spines watching Seido's demeanor.
Before this, they had actually been rooting for Seido to win.
Yes, Seido was strong—no doubt.
But compared to Inashiro, the dominant powerhouse of West Tokyo, Seido seemed like the lesser evil. A more beatable opponent.
At least, that's what Ichidai Third believed—until now.
Something had changed.
Watching Seido's unshaken composure in such a tense moment, they suddenly weren't so sure anymore.
In fact… they might actually prefer facing Inashiro now.
And they weren't alone.
The players of Inashiro Industrial High School had also sensed it.
At first, they wouldn't have admitted it—but now, it was impossible to ignore:
Zhou Hao had become an irreplaceable presence on Seido's roster.
As long as he stood on that mound, Seido exuded a different kind of aura.
To beat Seido… you had to beat Zhou Hao.
The cleanup hitter of Inashiro stepped up to the batter's box. This would be his second showdown with the freshman.
He wasn't the type to swing blindly for a miracle hit. He was smart—pragmatic.
He knew that if he went all-out with brute strength, the best he'd get was a pop fly or a grounder.
No, to beat Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball, he needed more than power—he needed control, precision, timing.
He sank his stance lower, eyes locked on Zhou Hao.
Everyone was watching.
All eyes were on the first-year pitcher.
They could feel it in their bones—this next pitch would be something special.
"Don't worry! That guy's thrown so many Spiral balls already—he must be worn out!"
The voice of Narumiya Mei rang out from the Inashiro dugout.
Zhou Hao didn't look particularly strong or built. Surely he couldn't maintain velocity like that forever.
Surely this next pitch… would have a flaw.
Many Inashiro supporters thought the same.
And then—Zhou Hao threw.
Smooth. Efficient. Lethal.
Whoosh!
The ball zipped through the strike zone and smacked cleanly into Miyuki Kazuya's glove.
"Thwack!"
"Strike!"
The cleanup hitter stood frozen.
…What was that?
A straight ball!?
He didn't doubt that Zhou Hao could throw a straight ball.
But this kind of straight ball?
Pinpoint accuracy.
Minimal motion.
No wasted energy—just a clean, efficient pitch, right into the weakest part of the batter's zone.
It was like Zhou Hao had scouted him in advance.
"…This guy's had that in his arsenal all along?"
The batter was stunned.
Zhou Hao—just a first-year—was pitching in the West Tokyo Summer Tournament for the first time.
Yet somehow, he had held back his straight ball this entire time?
Even the fans in the stands were catching on.
"That's insane."
"He's been hiding it all game… even against Inashiro."
"He saved his fastball as a trump card?"
In the Inashiro dugout, players exchanged anxious glances.
If it had been any other kind of pitch, fine.
But to hold back your fastball—and show off your Spiral instead?
"Is his fastball really that good?"
They had seen the Spiral. It was terrifying.
Surely his straight ball couldn't be better than that… right?
The cleanup hitter shared that doubt.
"You really think your straight ball is that amazing?
Fine—let's see if I can crush it."
The second pitch came.
He tracked it. He swung confidently.
And missed completely.
"Thwack!"
"Strike two!"
Now down 0-2, the Inashiro batter was rattled.
He looked toward Miyuki's glove, visibly shaken.
How…?
How did I miss that?
What even happened?
But before he could make sense of it—
Zhou Hao threw again.
This time—for sure—he would connect.
He swung.
And missed.
"Strikeout!!"
Silence swept across Inashiro's dugout.
Even their supporters were in shock.
Zhou Hao had struck out their cleanup hitter—using only his straight ball.
"What… kind of pitch… was that fastball?"
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