"You guys played so well!"
"We finally beat Inashiro Industrial!"
"I knew you could do it!"
"Play well—we'll be there for the finals too!"
"Zhou Hao, go for it!"
"Zhou Hao, do you have a girlfriend?"
The first waves of cheering from the stands were loud but proper.
Then, as two beautiful girls called out, the tone of the questions… shifted.
The players of Seido High kept their polite, frozen smiles, nodding like professionals.
At moments like this, anything they said could be a minefield.
The safest option was to smile, wave, and say nothing.
After bowing and thanking the crowd, the team returned to the locker room, changed out of their uniforms, and came back out—only to see a small pack of reporters waiting with cameras and boom mics.
"Reporters already?"
"That was fast..."
Luckily, the coaching staff had prepared for this. Two assistant coaches stepped forward, apologized on behalf of the team, and explained they couldn't accept interviews yet—they had to get back to school.
The players slipped past, boarded the bus, and left. Some fans even chased after them, waving, but exhaustion had hit hard.
They slumped into their seats, heads back, eyes closing.
The bus was noisy enough, but the tiredness was deeper than the chatter.
Zhou Hao, in particular, was out cold. His physical drain had been the greatest of all, and the seat might as well have been a bed.
He only woke when the bus rolled through the school gates.
Still groggy, Zhou Hao blinked—and froze.
Outside, a crowd was waiting.
The principal. The Head of Academics. Several school board members.
All smiling broadly, personally greeting Coach Kataoka.
"This is… a bit much," Zhou Hao muttered, stunned.
The whole team stared in disbelief. They had never seen the higher-ups this polite to their coach.
"The principal and Head of Academics are good people," Takashima Rei explained, adjusting her glasses. "But when the team's results weren't good, the pressure on them—and Coach—was huge. Even then, they never cut our budget or support. Now that we're this close to Koshien… well, all past disagreements are water under the bridge."
The principal beamed. "We've prepared a dinner! Eat well, and in the finals—finish it in one go!"
"That's right," the Head of Academics added. "Go fill up—you'll need the nutrition."
That was all the encouragement the teenage players needed. Sixteen, seventeen years old, running on sky-high metabolism—when they heard "big meal," they were off like sprinters.
Zhou Hao was halfway to the cafeteria when—
"Zhou Hao!"
He stopped, dread creeping in.
Why now? he thought bitterly. Of all times, he picks mealtime?
Coach Kataoka ignored the look on his face.
"How many more pitches do you think you can throw right now?"
Zhou Hao thought for a moment.
"Maybe… a dozen? I slept on the bus, so I've recovered a bit. But right after the game? Four, maybe five at most."
The coach nodded.
"Your pitching rhythm was excellent—many at-bats were done in one or two pitches. That's why, even pitching multiple innings, your total pitch count wasn't that high. But… if Inashiro had worked to wear you down from the start, you wouldn't have lasted to the ninth."
Zhou Hao frowned. It was true, but he didn't see the point of stating the obvious.
Then Kataoka's tone sharpened.
"Your Spiral ball drains too much stamina and puts heavy strain on your wrist."
Zhou Hao's heart skipped. He'd hidden the strain well—so well his teammates hadn't noticed—but the coach had. Even now, a faint tremor ran through his pitching hand.
"I also noticed," Kataoka continued, "that your Straight ball has improved. A lot. Have you considered shifting your pitch mix?"
In the past, Zhou Hao had relied almost entirely on his Spiral ball—eight straight strikeouts today alone came from it. Until the sixth inning, Seido had ridden that dominance. But now… the more famous Zhou Hao became, the more opponents would study him.
And if they started targeting his Spiral ball, his one overwhelming weapon could become a liability.
Before, his Straight ball hadn't been strong enough to lean on. But after today, Kataoka had seen something different. The ball had more life—enough to be developed into a real threat.
Zhou Hao finally understood.
While his Spiral ball's raw power was unmatched, his Straight ball required far less experience to level up. In one game, he'd already pushed it to Level 2.
If he focused on it now, maybe by the finals it could reach Level 3—faster, heavier, sharper.
"Go eat," Kataoka said. "Think on it tonight. We start work tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
By the time Zhou Hao reached the cafeteria, the roasted meat was gone. Most of the side dishes had been reduced to scraps.
"You guys are way too fast!" he complained.
It seemed some Seido players could run even faster for food than they did on the field.
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