The game between Seidou High School and Ikeda High School had entered the bottom of the third inning.
Seidou still maintained firm control over the match.
The score stood at 1–0, with Seidou leading by a single run.
One out, bases empty.
The ninth batter stepped up to the plate.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his bat high, eyes fixed on the pitcher's mound — ready to swing with everything he had.
At that moment, Ikeda's ace, Akahoshi, wound up and threw.
"Whoosh!"
The white ball sliced through the air toward the batter.
"Ping!"
Another high fly ball.
A collective gasp rippled through the stands.
"Again? Another pop-up?"
The Seidou supporters were well aware of their team's batting strength. As one of the nation's top baseball powerhouses, Seidou's players rarely made such elementary mistakes. Yet this was the third consecutive batter to pop up a ball.
Something wasn't right.
"This just shows how skilled Seidou's batters are," murmured Fujio, a senior reporter from Baseball Kingdom magazine.
He'd noticed what others hadn't — Seidou's players had already identified the peculiarity in Akahoshi's pitching motion. They were intentionally adjusting their swings, trying to find the perfect angle to counter it.
But simply lowering the bat wasn't enough. Without finding that precise contact point, the ball would always pop upward.
Akahoshi's deceptive pitch was forcing them to adapt — and fail.
"Impressive," Fujio muttered, his gaze following Akahoshi on the mound. "Koshien truly lives up to its name. You meet monsters everywhere."
Seidou had faced powerhouse schools before — even Osaka Kiryu — yet none of their players, aside from Zhou Hao, could handle this pitcher.
Even Yuki and Azuma Kiyokuni had fallen short.
Two outs.
Now it was Matsumoto, the leadoff batter's turn.
"Ping!"
The same result — another harmless pop-up.
"Out!"
From the stands, confusion began to stir.
"Why are they still swinging like that? Can't they tell it's not working?"
Many fans couldn't understand why Seidou's players kept making the same mistake.
But from the dugout's perspective, it was logical. The correct hitting angle was elusive — but not impossible. They just needed one clean connection to crack the code.
The inning ended quietly, and the game moved into the top of the fourth.
Zhou Hao remained on the mound.
Ikeda's top three batters — their most dangerous hitters — were coming up next. If Zhou Hao could handle them, it would give Yoshida a smoother ride later.
"Boom!"
The white ball screamed through the air.
Ikeda's first batter, Yui, narrowed his eyes sharply.
"I can see it!"
He swung with full force.
"Ping!"
For an instant, Yui's face flushed red — then his bat violently flew out of his hands!
Before he could even process what happened, the chief umpire toppled backward like a turtle on its shell.
"I knew it! It finally happened!" someone in the crowd shouted.
The ball bounced weakly, rolling to a stop in front of Zhou Hao. Calmly, he picked it up and threw to first.
"Thwack!"
"Out!"
The stadium fell into stunned silence.
Then the commentator's excited voice broke the air.
"It's here! Zhou Hao's famous scene — the flying bat!"
"Ikeda's batters clearly underestimated their opponent. Just making contact with Zhou Hao's pitch means nothing! The real skill lies in hitting it away!"
Yui had failed spectacularly — his strength no match for the raw force behind Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball.
"Zhou-san never disappoints!"
"I've been waiting for that scene!"
"Unbelievable!"
While the crowd erupted in cheers, Zhou Hao looked a little awkward on the mound.
Everyone was praising him — but only he knew the truth.
His hand had slipped earlier, and the Spiral Ball he'd thrown was barely at Level 1 power.
If it had been Level 3, Yui wouldn't have even touched it.
A pitch that even Osaka Kiryu's Kuroda and Sato couldn't hit — how could someone like Yui make contact?
Of course, that was not something Zhou Hao could openly admit.
Otherwise, who knows how people would react?
"Zhou Hao! Zhou Hao!!!"
The Seidou supporters' cheers shook the stadium.
Meanwhile, the Ikeda batters looked like their souls had left their bodies. Facing Zhou Hao felt like standing in the path of a hurricane — every pitch brought unbearable pressure.
The second batter, Akakawa, stepped into the box, his legs trembling slightly.
"Boom!"
Another Spiral Ball roared forward.
Only by standing in that box could one truly feel its terror.
"Just how did Yui even touch it…?" Akakawa thought, eyes wide.
Even though Yui's at-bat ended in disaster, at least he'd made contact.
That, in itself, was impressive.
"Thwack!"
"Strike!"
"Strike!!"
"Strike!!!"
"Strikeout!!"
Two outs, bases empty.
Now, Ikeda's third batter came forward, gripping the bat tightly.
He knew that if he couldn't make something happen, their second offensive round would be completely wasted.
"I have to hit it away…"
He took a deep breath as Zhou Hao wound up again — the field, the crowd, and even the air seemed to freeze around them.