"Amazing!!"
"As expected of Zhou Hao, they can't even touch the ball!"
"143 kilometers!!!"
"How are you supposed to hit a Spiral Ball at that speed?!"
"Ten consecutive strikeouts!"
"This is something only Zhou Hao can do!"
The stands shook as Seidō's supporters screamed themselves hoarse. They didn't care if the rest of the stadium understood — they were living through history.
Behind the outfield bleachers, Inashiro's players sat in silence.
They had faced Zhou Hao before. His stuff had been terrifying, yes — unhittable at times. But it hadn't been like this.
Back then, they hadn't felt despair.
Today, watching Ichidai flail helplessly, even Inashiro's powerhouse lineup shivered.
This isn't just overpowering… this is hopeless.
Ichidai's sixth batter tightened his grip and stepped in. His face showed nothing, but his eyes burned. Swing no matter what. Don't hesitate.
"Boom!"
The Spiral Ball screamed in with violent spin, carving the air apart.
The batter froze. For a first look, it was impossible. By the time he moved, the pitch had already buried itself in Miyuki's glove.
Snap!
"Strike one!!"
Zhou Hao didn't pause. The second pitch came hotter, sharper. The batter had no choice but to swing.
Air.
Snap!
"Strike two!!"
Ichidai's dugout stiffened. Their director, their coaches, every player could feel the pressure mounting like a mountain crushing down.
They weren't weak. They were proud, a national powerhouse with iron fighting spirit. And yet—
Snap!
"Strike three!! Strikeout!!"
The sixth batter walked off, shoulders heavy.
"Eleven!! Eleven consecutive strikeouts!!"
The commentator, who had once thought the Seidō fans were exaggerating, finally understood.
Five? Six? Even seven strikeouts in a row — yes, rare, but not impossible for an elite pitcher.
But eleven, against Ichidai's lineup?
This wasn't a fluke. This was domination that defied reason.
Reporters in the stands already had stars in their eyes. Their fingers flew across notebooks and keyboards. This story could overshadow even Seidō's return to Koshien.
Ichidai's seventh batter stepped up, knees tight with tension. Above the roar of the fans, the chants pounded like war drums:
"One more!!"
"Twelve consecutive!!!"
Zhou Hao wound up and let loose.
"Boom!!"
The ball shot out like a landslide, too fast, too heavy, crushing the air. The batter swung with every ounce of willpower. Just one touch — break the streak!
But destiny wasn't his to claim.
Snap!
Into Miyuki's glove.
"Strike one!!"
"Strike two!!"
"Strike three!! Out!!"
The umpire's cry was drowned instantly by the eruption in the stands.
"Twelve!! Twelve consecutive strikeouts!!!"
The stadium thundered. Seidō's supporters wept, screamed, embraced each other.
Zhou Hao had just set a record so terrifying, so absurd, it felt untouchable.
An unprecedented twelve in a row.
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