When Seiko Academy blasted three consecutive home runs, the score gap between the teams shrank to just a single point.
Even then, the players from Seiko Academy didn't believe they had a real shot at winning.
They simply wanted to give it their all—so they'd have no regrets.
Of course, winning would be ideal.
But even if they couldn't pull it off, it wouldn't come as a surprise. The gap between them and Seidou had been painfully clear since the early innings.
Despite their muscles-for-brains reputation, the players weren't blind. They could see the difference in ability.
But now, something had changed.
The Seiko players' eyes were no longer filled with resignation—they burned with excitement.
Their relief pitcher, Yamamoto, who had just taken the mound, was holding his own against Seidou's fearsome lineup.
One after another, Seidou's core hitters were struck out or forced into easy outs.
If the game continued like this... did they still have a chance to turn things around?
It might be a slim chance—but it was a chance.
They no longer needed to sit there silently, afraid to hope.
"Stick to your rhythm, Yamamoto-kun!"
"Let them see that Seiko Academy's pitcher has his own strength!"
"Just two more outs!"
In Seiko's dugout, the players roared with energy, their fighting spirit reignited.
Their mindset had completely changed.
On the mound, Yamamoto felt a rush of emotions.
He had never pitched in a moment like this before. But rather than crumbling under pressure, he was thrilled.
He loved it—this adrenaline, this spotlight.
Though he'd never say it out loud, his body made it obvious.
He was enjoying it.
Facing Seidou's heavy-hitting lineup, Yamai's pitches remained razor sharp.
Whoosh!
Chris narrowed his eyes at the incoming pitch. He could see clearly where it landed, and how fast it traveled.
Based on his experience, Chris was 70% confident he could hit it into the outfield.
But that didn't make sense.
They were Seidou's core batters.
How could they all be struggling this badly?
There was only one way to find out—by swinging.
Chris made his move.
Ping!
The moment the bat made contact, Chris frowned.
So light.
Despite Yamai's muscular build and intense throwing motion, the ball felt soft—almost gentle.
It didn't carry the expected weight or speed.
The ball arced high into the air, but soon began to drop.
Seiko's second baseman casually positioned himself under it and caught it with ease.
Bang!
"Out!"
Two outs, no runners on base.
Yamamoto had just retired five Seidou batters in a row—including their core hitters.
It was a huge blow to Seidou—and a massive boost for Seiko.
"If we keep this pace… maybe we can win?"
That hope, once long buried, was now sprouting again in the hearts of the Seiko players.
No high school baseball player wants to lose—especially when there's still a shot at victory.
"Watch for your pitch! Just one or two runs is enough!"
Zhou Hao's pitching was indeed monstrous.
But they believed they could still scrape together a few runs—even just one or two.
Then came the next batter.
"Batting seventh, number 20, pitcher—Zhou Hao!"
Zhou Hao stepped up to the batter's box.
Though Chris had failed to get on base, he had noticed something.
"That pitch… wasn't a real pitch..."
He trailed off, unsure how to put it into words.
Zhou Hao hadn't figured it out yet either.
Fortunately, he had his own method.
As Yamamoto began his windup, Zhou Hao activated his Sharingan.
The world seemed to slow down.
Every motion of Yamai's delivery appeared in fine detail.
And then Zhou Hao saw it.
At the moment Yamamoto released the ball, his fingers weren't applying pressure at all—they simply guided the ball out with an open hand.
So that's it!
He wasn't pitching—he was tossing the ball.
No wonder it felt so soft despite his size and form.
Yamamoto wasn't just adjusting his pitch speed—he was also controlling the impact of the ball.
"Unbelievable."
The finger dexterity, the finesse... and above all, the mental strength required to pitch like that—it was incredible.
No wonder so many of Seidou's heavy hitters misjudged his throws and hit into easy outs.
Zhou Hao understood now.
That pitching style was deadly because it tricked batters into overcommitting.
He was the wrong opponent for inconsistent or hesitant hitters.
If Yamamoto faced a batter who didn't fully commit to swinging, he wouldn't use this style.
But Zhou Hao had already seen through it.
"Interesting... In that case—let's go!"
With no hesitation, Zhou Hao swung with full power.
Buzz!
Seiko's catcher smirked. Zhou Hao had taken the bait.
This was the trap they had set—and it seemed to be working.
But before the thought could finish forming...
Ping!
Zhou Hao's bat smashed the ball.
The white baseball shot into the sky like a rocket.
Seiko's players immediately assumed it was a pop fly.
Three outs, no runs. Perfect defense.
But then...
The ball didn't drop.
It kept flying.
Seiko's outfielders sprinted back—further and further.
"I've got it!"
One player leapt, determined to stop it.
But the ball soared over his head.
It didn't stop until it slammed into the outfield stands—and bounced back out.
"It flew out?!"
The players from Seidou stared in stunned silence.
They couldn't believe it.
Zhou Hao had done it.
A towering home run blast!
His first ever.
A home run cannon.
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POWER STONE!!
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