"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
Three outs. Side retired.
At the end of the sixth inning, the scoreboard still showed 3–3.
As two of the nation's top high school baseball powerhouses clashed, the fans in the stands didn't even dare to blink. One missed moment could mean missing the decisive play that would determine the winner.
That's why everyone had clearly seen it—
Zhou Hao, Seidō's freshman pitcher, had just struck out Inashiro's cleanup hitter—using nothing but straight balls.
From the stands, it didn't even look like anything special. No strange movement. The pitch speed was only around 130 km/h (about 81 mph). Not blazing fast by any means.
But the result spoke for itself.
The white ball had simply blown past Inashiro's No. 4 batter.
"That's insane…"
"It's like magic!"
Back behind home plate, Miyuki Kazuya grinned at the comments.
"There's a reason our pitcher's straight ball is a hidden weapon."
If Inashiro's lineup hadn't caught on just now, they might've been baffled until the very last inning.
Meanwhile, in the Inashiro dugout, their players looked around in confusion.
They didn't want to admit it—but the truth was clear:
They were being outplayed.
They were even feeling disoriented.
"It's just a straight ball… So why can't we hit it!?"
The cleanup hitter scratched his head furiously, as if he could knock an answer out of his own skull—but he found none.
Just then, a loud crack sounded—like bones being popped.
All heads turned.
It was Coach Kunimoto, stretching his neck.
Immediately, all eyes were on him.
"His fastball is unusually pure," Kunimoto said, eyes gleaming.
"If you try to hit it like a normal straight, you'll miss. Aim for the same swing, but lift your bat by half a ball to one full ball."
The players stared at him.
"Isn't that adjustment usually for ultra-fastballs?"
They were no strangers to pitchers who could throw blazing heat. As a top team from West Tokyo, they'd faced elite velocity before.
"It's not just about speed," Kunimoto replied.
"If a fastball is pure enough—tight spin, consistent motion—it can create a similar illusion. Just do as I say."
"Yes, sir!"
The Inashiro players straightened up, their confidence suddenly renewed.
When the players went back out, one of the Inashiro staff members, gently rubbing his thinning hair, turned to Kunimoto with admiration.
"Amazing, Kunimoto-san… You figured it out after just three pitches?"
Zhou Hao had only faced one batter, and threw only three fastballs—yet Kunimoto already had a counter-strategy?
But Kunimoto only shook his head.
"It's just a guess."
The staff member blinked in surprise.
"Huh!?"
"The kids can't afford to hesitate. Not now. Even if the reason they believe in turns out to be wrong—they must swing with confidence."
Then Kunimoto narrowed his eyes, gaze sharpening.
In his heart, he didn't think it was just a guess.
That last swing had been perfectly timed… and still missed. The rhythm had been there.
That meant only one thing.
The ball had simply passed above or below the bat.
And if that was true—then adjusting the swing height by half a ball could raise the contact probability by at least 50%.
Top of the 7th Inning — Seidō on Offense
The game rolled into the 7th inning.
Now tied, 3–3, Seidō stepped up to bat with newfound urgency.
They had clawed back into the game—and now they had to press forward.
On the mound stood Narumiya Mei, Inashiro's first-year ace.
"Whoosh!"
A white blur shot off the mound.
The Seidō batter barely had time to process it.
The angle. The speed.
Even compared to Seidō's own ace—this was on another level.
He could only try to make contact.
"Ping!"
The ball bounced off the bat weakly, floating into the infield.
An Inashiro infielder dove forward and snagged it cleanly.
"Out!"
The next batter stepped up—and met the same fate.
Then the next.
"Out!"
"Out!!"
Three up. Three down.
Seidō's offense was shut down completely.
Despite tying the game, their momentum had shifted—the tide was turning in Inashiro's favor.
In the stands, rival players who had come to scout this showdown were buzzing.
"Even against Seidō… Inashiro can still pull it back?"
"At this point, they've taken control of the game."
Inashiro had three innings left to hit.
Seidō had only two.
"Don't count Seidō out yet. If they can shut Inashiro down this inning, it'll be back to even."
But if Seidō let Inashiro score here…
Then no matter how well they'd played, Seidō could be on the verge of elimination.
Bottom of the 7th — Inashiro's Turn to Strike Back
The Inashiro players were fired up.
Their 5th, 6th, and 7th batters were up—the heart of their middle order.
All three were confident.
After all, they'd just been given direct advice from Kunimoto—and believed it would work.
The first to step in was the 5th batter.
He held his bat high, adopting a full-swing stance.
"Trying to crush it with brute force, huh?"
Behind the plate, Miyuki Kazuya smirked.
"If they're really going for that, they'll never hit Zhou's pitches—not today."
He signaled the pitch.
Zhou Hao nodded.
He wound up.
And threw.
"Whoosh!"
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