"No way!!"
The players of Osaka Kiryu reacted instantly.
A ball that seemed impossible to stop—
somehow, they got it.
The baseball, roughly forty to fifty meters from home plate, was already being retrieved.
Zhou Hao had crossed home, tying the score for Seidou.
But the situation wasn't over.
Miyuki and Azuma Kiyokuni froze—
they didn't dare take another step.
Both stayed at first and second.
Only Yuki Tetsuya, who had already rounded third, kept running—
charging straight for home.
The ball blazed through the air like lightning, landing in the Osaka Kiryu catcher's mitt with a sharp—
"Snap!!"
The catcher's focus was razor-sharp.
He saw Yuki barreling toward him and swept his mitt across.
"You're not getting past me!"
He was confident—one clean tag, and the game would head to extra innings.
But Yuki didn't slow down.
He accelerated.
"You're asking for it!!"
The catcher braced, determined to block the plate with his body if necessary.
Then, at the very last instant—
Yuki shifted.
He veered sharply to the side.
The catcher's eyes widened.
Too late to change direction now!
Years of experience kicked in—
he raised his mitt, aiming to block the sliding runner's path.
But at that exact moment—
Yuki dropped low.
A perfect slide.
The catcher's glove swept across empty air.
"—!"
For a split second, even the crowd forgot to breathe.
The Osaka Kiryu catcher, to his credit, adjusted mid-motion and slammed his glove down toward Yuki's arm—
his instincts were elite, among the best in Japan.
"Got you—!"
But right then, Yuki pulled his arm back, twisting his body to avoid the tag—
and in one fluid motion, he thrust his other arm forward, fingertips brushing against the plate.
"Ahhh!"
Even the usually stoic Yuki let out a raw shout as his hand connected with home.
The catcher froze.
The shock in his eyes was unmistakable.
And then—
"Safe!!"
The umpire's voice boomed across the stadium.
Because of Yuki's clever feint earlier, the umpire had a perfect line of sight—
and clearly saw the fingertips touch home before the tag.
"Safe!"
"Seidou High School completes the comeback with two outs in the bottom of the ninth inning!"
"Final score—4 to 3!!!"
As the announcer's voice echoed through the field,
the stadium erupted into chaos—
a sea of blue and white roaring with disbelief and joy.
For Seidou's supporters, it was a dream come true.
When they first learned their opponent was the "Universe Team," Osaka Kiryu,
many had already accepted defeat.
Even Seidou's own players had felt the weight of despair.
But as the game went on,
as each inning passed—
hope began to flicker again.
And now, at last, that faint hope had exploded into reality.
"We won!!"
"We are the strongest!!"
"King Seidou!!!"
"Zhou Hao!!"
"Yuki!!"
"Miyuki Kazuya!!!"
The crowd screamed the names of their heroes.
Zhou Hao and Yuki were already stars. Their dramatic runs across home ignited the fans' passion—
but even their cheers couldn't rival those for the rookie catcher, Miyuki Kazuya.
No one expected that, at Seidou's most desperate moment, the one to step up would be him.
Miyuki—the genius freshman catcher.
When Chris was injured before, he had already proven his leadership.
But this?
This showed the nation something new.
"He's incredible!"
"When there are runners on base, his batting power rivals Yuki's!"
The scoreboard told the story: 4–3.
A complete reversal.
Seidou High School Baseball Team—victorious.
Advancing to the second round.
And the mighty Universe Team, Osaka Kiryu, eliminated in the first.
In Osaka Kiryu's dugout, silence hung heavy.
The supporters stared blankly at the field, unable to accept what they'd just witnessed.
The players, too, could barely lift their heads.
They had led.
They had dominated.
And then, in a blink—
they were undone.
A single run separated triumph from heartbreak.
4–3.
"As the famous Universe Team, this is the first time Osaka Kiryu has fallen this early…"
"The organizers must be regretting it. They expected Seidou to be a stepping stone—
but Seidou became their nightmare."
"Such an incredible match… this should've been the final."
Did the organizers regret the matchup?
No one knew.
But one thing was clear—
both the fans and the players of Osaka Kiryu were left in stunned silence.
In the dugout, no one dared meet Director Matsumoto Takahiro's eyes.
He had been fuming with rage earlier—
but now, his expression was strangely calm.
"Director…"
"Coach, we're sorry…"
Matsumoto slowly exhaled.
"Lift your heads," he said quietly.
"You didn't play badly. It's just that the opponent…"
He trailed off.
He knew his team had done their best.
There were mistakes, sure.
But hadn't Seidou made theirs too?
If Zhou Hao hadn't stubbornly insisted on throwing the spiral ball early on,
they might not have given up that first run.
If Seidou hadn't changed pitchers midway, perhaps Osaka Kiryu would've kept the momentum.
But there are no ifs in baseball.
Only results.
And the result was clear—
Seidou was just a little stronger.
Matsumoto's gaze lingered on the celebrating Seidou players.
"I wonder…" he murmured.
"Who in Japan can stop this team?"
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