Pop!
"Strike!"
At first, the Second Batter of the Inashiro Industrial High School Baseball Team could hardly believe it.
According to the scouting reports, Zhou Hao's control was good, but nowhere near top-tier. He almost never pitched right on the very edge of the strike zone.
If he really had that kind of precision—combined with the pure rhythm of his straight ball—then hitting him would be close to impossible.
No way. This has to be luck. Just a coincidence, he told himself over and over.
As long as he hugged the inside line of the strike zone, he could keep up the pressure. Even if it was just psychological pressure, a single lapse from Zhou Hao could tip the balance in their favor.
You're just a first-year… there's no way you're perfect.
With that mental armor in place, the batter steadied himself—only for Zhou Hao to unleash the second pitch without hesitation.
The ball skimmed past, barely clearing the batter's knee.
Pop!
"Strike!"
A shiver went through the Inashiro batter. This wasn't hesitation—it was awe. Since the moment they'd started facing him, Zhou Hao hadn't made a single mistake. Every pitch landed exactly where it needed to.
Perfect… almost inhuman.
And every perfect pitch chipped away at Inashiro's confidence.
The Second Batter instinctively glanced toward his dugout.
"Idiot!"
Coach Kunimoto's frosty expression almost cracked in anger. In a battle like this, showing doubt was like bleeding in shark-infested waters.
Zhou Hao, of course, didn't miss it.
Whoosh!
The ball blazed past before the batter even realized it.
Pop!
"Strike!"
"No swing—strikeout!"
The Second Batter just stood there, stunned. He'd let the last pitch go by without even moving the bat. That wasn't just a failed at-bat—it was a blow to the entire team's morale.
"Damn it!"
Slapping his helmet in frustration, he trudged back to the dugout. "I'm sorry, everyone!"
At this stage, both sides were evenly matched in skill and grit. The winner would be the one who made fewer mistakes. Normally, Inashiro's experience and mental toughness gave them the edge. But now… they had shown the first crack.
"Relax. We still have the initiative," Kunimoto said coldly. "Their offense is done. Ours isn't."
One out. Nobody on base.
Now it was the Third Batter's turn—the heart of the lineup.
"This is our third meeting," he told himself, stepping into the box. "This time, I'm getting a hit—no matter what."
One solid swing, one clean hit, and they could break this stalemate. Win the game in one push.
He too pressed close to the plate, just like the Second Batter—but with a firmer resolve.
From behind the mask, Miyuki could sense it. They've changed their thinking. If they can't score now, they'll take this to extra innings. They'll settle for shutting Zhou Hao down.
But the last two inside-edge pitches had been dangerous. One bad throw and Zhou Hao would hit the batter. His control was good, but not elite. Landing both previous pitches was already a minor miracle.
Still, when Miyuki saw Zhou Hao's eyes—steady, unflinching—he understood.
There was no turning back.
Whoosh!
Straight ball. Inner edge. Pop!
"Strike!"
Then another. "Strike!"
And another. "Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
Two outs. No runners.
Even the Seido bench was staring in disbelief. When did Zhou Hao's straight ball control become this sharp?
Zhou Hao himself was just as surprised. He'd never been able to hammer the inner edge pitch after pitch like this.
It felt… different. Stronger.
Sharingan had hit Level 2 early thanks to frequent use. Spiral Ball had just reached Level 2 in this very game. Straight Ball, though—he'd used it less, so he'd assumed it would take much longer to upgrade.
Apparently not.
As the Fourth Batter stepped into the box, the familiar voice rang in his mind:
"Congratulations to the host—Kunai Straight Throwing Technique has been upgraded to Level 2."
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