In the bottom of the first inning, it was Seidou High School's turn to bat.
"First batter, Matsumoto-kun."
As soon as Matsumoto stepped into the batter's box, his gaze locked onto the pitcher's mound.
Standing there was a young man with a handsome, almost fragile idol-like appearance.
The stands were filled with his fans—proof of how popular he was.
On the baseball field, players like him were often dismissed as mere pretty faces.
Handsome, fair-skinned athletes were typically associated with less training.
After all, true athletes were often distinguishable from miles away by their sun-darkened skin.
But the pitcher on the mound was a complete anomaly.
His complexion was pale, creamy, almost glowing under the sun.
Inside Seibo High's dugout, several bottles of sunscreen and skincare products were on full display.
Clearly, this wasn't natural—it was maintenance.
Meticulous, dedicated maintenance.
Coupled with naturally good skin, he stood out unmistakably as a "beautiful pitcher."
Even Zhou Hao looked less eye-catching in comparison.
But no one would have guessed the reputation that followed this delicate-looking young man.
He was the last of the three superstar pitchers—Shirazawa Asuka.
Kuroda, Shirazawa, Akutsu—
Before Zhou Hao rose to prominence, these three dominated the entire high school baseball world.
Zhou Hao shattered their monopoly.
Matsumoto had already faced Kuroda and Akutsu.
To be honest, those encounters were despair-inducing.
Their strengths were simply on a different level.
Now, facing Shirazawa…
Matsumoto originally expected to be overwhelmed with nerves.
But instead, he was surprisingly calm.
He knew better than anyone how terrifying a superstar pitcher's ball could be.
But after facing two of them already…
What else was there left to fear?
The worst outcome was failing to hit.
That was all.
Bracing himself with that mindset, Matsumoto lifted his head—his gaze steady and unwavering.
Shirazawa raised an eyebrow.
So this was the composure of Seidou High's lineup…
The kind of calm that other teams lacked.
"Heh… interesting guy, interesting team."
With that thought, he delivered his first pitch with elegant precision.
The stronger the opponent, the more his blood boiled.
The baseball cut through the air with a sharp whistle.
Matsumoto's eyes widened slightly.
This pitch…?
According to their scouting reports, Shirazawa's ball speed averaged above 145 km/h.
On top of that, he possessed three signature breaking balls—
Each with identifiable characteristics, yet none predictable.
An ever-changing magician on the mound.
A stark contrast to Kuroda and Akutsu, who were masters of a single, overwhelming finishing pitch.
To control three different breaking balls at such a level…
That alone made Shirazawa astonishing.
Facing such a pitcher, even Matsumoto couldn't help tightening his nerves.
But as he saw this pitch…
It wasn't as terrifying as he imagined.
Not unhittable.
The ball zipped into the catcher's mitt.
Pop!
"Strike!!"
Matsumoto blinked.
Wait… did my hitting just improve? Why does it feel like I can hit that?
His grip tightened instinctively.
His eyes sharpened.
He felt it—
He had a chance.
Even if he didn't get a hit in the end…
He absolutely couldn't let this opportunity pass.
Landing a hit off one of the three superstar pitchers meant instant nationwide recognition.
And this was the Koshien final.
The stage where heroes were made.
This wasn't just an opportunity—
It was almost divine providence.
His heart surged.
The second pitch came.
Exactly the same trajectory as the first one.
Without hesitation, Matsumoto swung.
Whir!
A solid connection.
Ping!
Yes! I hit it!!
He took off running, heart thundering.
Fly! Fly! Fly out! Please just fly!!
But…
The ball didn't travel far.
It dropped cleanly into the second baseman's glove.
Pop.
"Out!"
Matsumoto's shoulders slumped.
"Damn… even though I hit it so well…"
In Seidou's dugout, the players clicked their tongues.
"What a waste… If he could've gotten on base…"
Because behind Matsumoto stood the core three—
Zhou Hao, Yuki Tetsuya, Azuma Kiyokuni.
Each one a nightmare to opposing pitchers.
Fans in the stands erupted as Zhou Hao walked up.
"It's starting!!"
"This is what we came for—Zhou Hao vs Shirazawa!"
"This is the showdown everyone's been waiting for!"
Even players and supporters from both teams were holding their breath.
Meanwhile, at the stadium—and in front of countless TVs—
Two figures watched intently:
Kuroda of Osaka Kiryu (present at the stadium).
Akutsu of Seisho High (watching at home).
Akutsu's older sister, dressed in a sharp business suit, playfully stroked his head.
"So that's him?"
She pointed at Zhou Hao.
The camera zoomed in on Zhou Hao's focused, painting-like expression.
Shirazawa was handsome, of course.
But Zhou Hao had a presence like a work of art.
Even Akutsu's older sister—no longer a teenager—felt her heart skip.
"This guy is really handsome. Didn't you get his contact info?"
Akutsu rolled his eyes.
"No."
"Tsk. You're all in the same baseball circle! What's wrong with networking?"
She clicked her tongue irritably.
If she'd known, she would've skipped her boring meeting to cheer for Akutsu.
But now, both siblings watched the TV with burning anticipation.
The commentator's voice grew excited.
"It's about to begin! Shirazawa is preparing his first pitch!"
Shirazawa's eyes shimmered with joy.
Pitching under the spotlight, against a worthy opponent—
He lived for this.
"First pitch—Drifting Leaves!"
The ball flew high, then dipped late—
One of Shirazawa's signature "magic pitch" breaking balls.
Zhou Hao activated his Sharingan instantly.
"Replicate."
He normally didn't care about copying others' breaking balls.
But Shirazawa was different.
He wanted these techniques.
He wanted to master the "magic."
The ball dipped—
But not enough.
Pop!
"Ball!!"
Zhou Hao didn't bite.
Even if he hit that, it'd be a useless fly ball.
Shirazawa saw this and grinned excitedly.
"As expected… this opponent is different."
His eyes burned brighter.
"Second pitch—Bullet Beam!"
The ball shot in like a straight fastball.
But—
The Sharingan saw it.
A four-seam grip.
But the fingers were slightly spread.
A fastball?
A spinning forkball?
It was both—and neither.
Deception at its finest.
If Zhou Hao didn't swing, he would fall into Shirazawa's rhythm.
Unacceptable.
He tightened his grip.
At the exact moment the ball reached the optimal timing—
He swung.
Whirrr!
The power reverberated in the air.
Oishibashi, Seibo's catcher, widened his eyes.
"What incredible bat power…!"