Miyuki Kazuya… it really is him.
Narumiya Mei, now back in the dugout, understood better than anyone just how dangerous Miyuki could be.
Last year, Narumiya had dreamed of building the ultimate team—handpicking the most outstanding players of their generation to form an unstoppable legion in West Tokyo. His goal: conquer Koshien.
He knew it couldn't be done alone. Baseball wasn't a one-man sport; a pitcher needed the perfect catcher by his side.
And the catcher Narumiya had set his sights on… was Miyuki Kazuya.
To him, Miyuki was the catcher of their generation—the one who could read a game, control a field, and elevate a pitcher's full potential. If Miyuki agreed to join him, Narumiya's vision of the "strongest legion" would take shape immediately.
But to his surprise, Miyuki had turned him down.
Not only that, Miyuki had said something Narumiya never forgot:
"I'd rather face you as an opponent than stand next to you as a teammate."
Back then, both believed that meeting on the field as rivals wouldn't happen until at least the autumn tournament. After all, they were both only first-years—just getting into the summer roster as substitutes was rare enough.
But fate had other plans.
Now, here they were—both already central players for their respective teams.
Narumiya stepped in to replace Inashiro's fatigued ace.
Miyuki took over as Seidō's main catcher after Chris's injury.
From the very first exchange, that familiar feeling between them returned.
Narumiya was dazzling today—every pitch, every moment, drawing the crowd's attention. But Miyuki… Miyuki had found a partner who matched him perfectly.
When Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball had been untouchable, and later when his "Straight" baffled batters, Miyuki's presence had gone unnoticed. Zhou Hao's pitches were simply that dominant.
But once Inashiro began to figure him out—once the "magic" wore off—it was Miyuki's turn to shine.
From behind the plate, he seized control of the game, anticipating every swing and dictating every defensive move.
Two Outs, Leadoff Up
Inashiro's leadoff hitter, Hanaki, stepped in, fixing a long, hard look on Miyuki. A sharp gleam flickered in his eyes.
He knew the truth: Seidō's scoring chances were limited… but so were theirs. And just when they had started to adapt to Zhou Hao, Miyuki had shut them down again.
If they couldn't break through now, time would run out.
"Wait for the ball to come close. Drive it deep. Aim for the stands."
If they could send it over the fence, Seidō's defense wouldn't matter.
Hanaki steadied his breathing and raised his bat.
From behind the mask, Miyuki's eyes narrowed. A cold glint flashed, and he gave a sharp, quick signal. Zhou Hao nodded without hesitation.
The Pitch
Whoosh!
The ball zipped in. Hanaki gathered every ounce of strength and swung the instant it came into range.
Ping!
The contact felt solid… but the ball dropped almost immediately, bouncing in the infield instead of soaring to the outfield.
His eyes widened.
A breaking ball?!
Curve? Fork? It didn't matter—he had been fooled.
Shimoi charged forward, scooped it cleanly, and fired to first.
Pop!
"OUT!"
Three outs. Side retired.
The scoreboard still read 3–3 at the end of the eighth.
Seidō's fans wanted to cheer. They had reason to—Inashiro's biggest threats had been neutralized, especially their dangerous first-years who had sparked earlier rallies. Zhou Hao had faced them down and won.
But the reality cut both ways: Seidō's own cleanup hitter had already been retired. Scoring against Inashiro's first-year pitcher would be just as difficult.
"Even if the outcome's still unclear, our battery is definitely the best," one Seidō player murmured.
Before, with Chris behind the plate, few paid attention to the catcher's brilliance—it was simply expected. Chris had been the main catcher since his own first year, always steady, always sharp.
But Miyuki's opportunity had come under pressure—Chris injured, Zhou Hao's pitching style exposed, the opponent adapting fast.
And instead of crumbling, Miyuki had stepped in and turned the tide.
Of course, he couldn't have done it without Zhou Hao—whose precise, fearless pitching allowed Miyuki's strategies to work flawlessly. Together, they controlled the game like seasoned veterans.
Even Inashiro's own players and fans had to admit it: Seidō's battery was something special.
The commentator's voice boomed through the stadium:
"These two first-years are remarkable. In a game like this, they're dictating the rhythm completely."
And so, the game moved into the ninth inning.
Top of the ninth—Seidō on offense.
A crucial opportunity. Zhou Hao had already burned a lot of energy. How long could he hold out? Nobody knew.
If Seidō could score now, they could lock down the win before fatigue became a factor.
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