"Fourth batter, number 6, third baseman, Azuma Kiyokuni."
Two outs. Runner on second base.
The bottom of the eighth inning marked Seido High School Baseball Team's best opportunity yet to break the tie. Their cleanup hitter—the heart of the lineup—stepped into the batter's box.
From the dugout to the stands, Inashiro Industrial's players and fans could feel the crushing pressure. It was suffocating.
Seido had scored three runs in the game so far—two of them driven in by Azuma Kiyokuni.
Now, with two outs and a runner in scoring position again, a single solid hit could give Seido the lead. If it brought in two runs, Seido would nearly have the game sealed.
Inashiro, having just clawed back to tie the score, couldn't afford to let that happen.
But the figure now standing in the batter's box felt like a mountain looming over them.
Narumiya Mei, on the mound, felt it the most.
His breathing grew ragged.
So this is the pressure of facing the top-ranked monster in Tokyo? he thought.
He recalled Zhou Hao and Yuki taking swings at his best pitches earlier. And now—this.
This was the intensity of elite-level high school baseball.
But Narumiya didn't back down.
Instead, his fighting spirit blazed even brighter.
"I'm lucky to be here," he thought. "I'm lucky I joined Inashiro!"
Whoosh!
He fired a blazing fastball.
In the batter's box, Azuma Kiyokuni stared it down like a demon summoned from hell—his eyes bloodshot, his presence overwhelming.
He didn't hesitate.
Boom!
Harada, behind the plate, froze in shock.
He swung?!
He didn't wait for a better pitch? At such a critical moment?!
There was no time to process.
Ping!
The bat made perfect contact.
The ball soared again.
Inashiro's infielders could only watch in silence.
The ball tore through the air and shot into the left field corner. It was just meters from flying out of the park.
But Inashiro's outfielders, already positioned deep in anticipation of Kiyokuni's immense power, sprang into action.
The left fielder sprinted a few steps back—then caught the ball squarely in his glove.
Thwack!
"Out!"
Three outs. Side retired.
On the mound, Narumiya Mei threw his head back and roared.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!!"
His chest heaved.
This—this was why he played.
To face monsters who could shake the entire Tokyo baseball scene and stand tall against them.
There was no thrill greater than this.
Bottom of the eighth inning. Inashiro on offense.
Having held Seido scoreless, Inashiro's chances of winning had suddenly surged.
All eyes in the stadium now turned to them.
And yet...
Compared to the inning before, the air among Inashiro's supporters felt heavier.
Earlier, they had confidently believed the team would clinch victory.
But reality had been different.
As long as Zhou Hao stood on the mound, Inashiro couldn't even touch the ball.
In the top of the eighth, Zhou Hao's at-bat had been just as impactful.
He struck the ball cleanly—beautifully—but luck hadn't been on his side.
Even so, no one could say Zhou Hao had underperformed.
If anything, his presence on the field remained unmatched.
Now, it was time for him to pitch again.
And when Zhou Hao took the mound...
...that's when the game would truly be decided.
Would Inashiro be able to hit this first-year phenom?
Would they even make contact?
Everyone was watching him.
Then, suddenly—like a spark catching fire—cheers erupted from the Seido side of the stadium.
It started with the second-string and third-string players in the dugout...
And spread like wildfire through the stands.
"Zhou Hao!"
"Zhou Hao!!"
Tens of thousands of voices—unified.
The entire Seido High School crowd chanted Zhou Hao's name, over and over again, filling the stadium with thunderous energy.
It wasn't just a cheer.
It was a declaration of faith.
A message to their ace:
"Don't let your last at-bat weigh on you. Pitch with everything you've got."
The commentator's voice choked with emotion.
"This is... it's just a high school baseball game, but... I feel like crying..."
These were no ordinary fans. This was Seido.
And Zhou Hao?
He wasn't just their ace. He was their symbol.
Now stepping into the batter's box: Inashiro's eighth batter.
"Eighth batter, pitcher, Narumiya Mei."
Earlier in the game, Seido had scored most of their runs while Narumiya was on the mound.
Now he was up to bat.
The game was tied. Inashiro had momentum. The fans were hopeful.
But no matter how strong that hope was, it couldn't erase one fact:
Not a single Inashiro batter had gotten a hit off Zhou Hao.
Still, they believed.
They believed that moment would come.
Zhou Hao was currently using his Straight ball—a pitch that demanded far less stamina than his devastating Spiral from earlier.
But early in the game, he had thrown nearly thirty Spiral balls in a row.
That kind of strain had to be catching up.
Eventually, it would hit him like a tidal wave.
Coach Kunimoto remembered Zhou Hao's Straight ball vividly. He had thought he'd cracked the code...
Only to realize Zhou Hao wasn't just throwing fastballs.
There were other layers.
He could control spin. He could make the ball rise—or drop.
As if he bent the laws of physics to his will.
"How do you hit a pitch like that?" Coach Kunimoto wondered, stumped.
Just then, Narumiya Mei spoke up.
"Whether it rises or drops, once it leaves his hand, he can't control it anymore. We just need to wait until it gets close, and then swing at the last possible moment."
The dugout went silent.
Then heads began to nod.
He was right.
The players thought it over—and realized: this might actually work.
Wait just a fraction longer.
Swing only when the ball reached them.
If they could time it right—
They might finally break through.
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