"We won!"
"It was us—Seido won!!"
For the players of Seido High School Baseball Team, this wasn't just a victory. It was proof—proof that years of hard work, grinding through criticism and doubt, had not been in vain. They weren't a fallen powerhouse. They were a team reborn.
The dugout erupted. Players leapt into the air, pumping fists, shouting until their voices cracked. The dignity of a national contender? Forgotten. The release of years of pressure? Overwhelming.
Zhou Hao stood at the edge of the mound, chest heaving. His right hand trembled—the same hand that had thrown the game's final pitch. That last spiral and straight ball combination had wrung out every drop of strength he had left. Five more pitches, and he knew the control would've been gone. One misplaced throw, and with Inashiro's momentum, a comeback would've been very real.
Today, Seido hadn't faltered once. Zhou Hao was stellar. Even Yoshida, who handled the middle innings, stayed cool under pressure. And still, Inashiro clawed out three runs. That was the caliber of the West Tokyo overlord.
Zhou Hao stared at his palm.
If I had stepped off that mound just now… would we still have won?
"Oi, hero—don't look like you lost," Azuma Kiyokuni's booming voice broke in. Beside him, Shimoi Teru grinned wide.
"Yeah, Ota just called—Chris is fine. Dislocated his arm and aggravated an old injury, but he'll recover after some rest. So quit worrying and celebrate with us!"
In the stands, the scene mirrored the field—fans cheering like mad, waving towels and banners. It was only the semi-finals, yes. The finals still loomed. But no one cared. Not right now.
Some neutral fans might think Seido was overreacting for a semi-final win. But anyone who knew the last few years understood. The shadow of Inashiro had loomed over them for too long, the losses digging deeper and deeper. That kind of pressure bred doubt—almost a fear—inside even seasoned players.
Today, they had broken that wall.
Relief gave way to joy.
"We won!"
"We took down Inashiro!"
Across the field, the contrast was stark. Inashiro's third-years bowed their heads, tears streaming. Before the game, losing hadn't crossed their minds. Overlord of West Tokyo? Now the title felt like an insult.
Narumiya Mei's expression was blank. The "Tokyo Prince" had never tasted a loss like this.
"You've done well," their captain said quietly, ruffling Mei's hair. "Our time's up. It's your turn now. And since you'll be stuck in the same era as that monster Zhou Hao… your road will be even rougher than ours. Promise me—don't lose to them again."
The umpire's call cut the moment short. "Both teams, assemble!"
"Thank you for the game!"
"Thank you!"
Bows exchanged, hands shaken. Then, as the teams began to part, Narumiya Mei suddenly broke from his line, jogging straight toward Seido.
Gasps rippled through the stadium. The Inashiro players stiffened—if Mei pulled something unsportsmanlike now, their school's reputation would plummet. Reporters would have a field day.
But Mei stopped in front of Zhou Hao, eyes sharp.
"You don't actually think I'm here to congratulate you and wish you luck in Koshien, do you?"
Miyuki raised a brow. "Then what are you here for?"
"To tell you this—since you beat us, play properly in the finals. Don't go losing right after and making it look like Inashiro's weak."
He turned to leave, then glanced over his shoulder at Miyuki. His voice dropped. "Bet you're happy now, Kazuya."
A memory surfaced—middle school, Mei inviting him to form a team. Miyuki had refused. Mei had sworn he'd regret it. Now? Mei was walking off the field a loser, while Miyuki advanced to the finals with Seido.
Miyuki smirked. "It's too early for that. The Inashiro I want to beat… is the one you'll build in the future. That win will feel even better."
Mei's jaw tightened. "You're dreaming!"
And with that, he stormed off.
Seido's celebration rolled on. The players gathered at the stands' edge, bowing deeply to the thousands of fans.
"Thank you for your support!"
"We'll keep fighting until the end!!"
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