When Zhou Hao was only a few meters from home plate, he suddenly launched himself forward.
His body arched gracefully through the air like a gymnast performing a flawless dive.
Everyone was stunned.
The players of Inashiro Industrial froze.
The Seido players weren't much better.
Before this moment, none of them had imagined Zhou Hao would attempt something so outrageous.
For a split second, many even wondered if they had seen it wrong.
The spectators in the stands were completely dumbfounded.
Some were so shocked that their mouths hung open without them even noticing.
Everything happened in an instant.
Harada didn't even have enough time to stand up completely.
All he could do was extend his glove and hope to make the tag.
Given his height and position, he should have been able to touch Zhou Hao easily.
Yet somehow—
He missed.
The glove passed mere centimeters away from Zhou Hao's body.
At the critical moment, Zhou Hao adjusted his posture in midair, narrowly avoiding the tag.
Then he landed.
One hand slammed down onto home plate.
Harada instinctively raised his glove.
The Inashiro supporters immediately erupted.
"He got him!"
"That's an out!"
The distance between the glove and Zhou Hao had been so small that most people couldn't tell whether contact had actually been made.
All they saw was Harada holding up his glove.
To them, it looked exactly like a successful tag.
No matter how spectacular Zhou Hao's move had been, if Harada had touched him, the result was obvious.
Out.
The score would remain 1-0.
Of course, even if they prevented this run, it wouldn't completely change the situation.
But so what?
For Inashiro's players and supporters, shutting down Zhou Hao alone would be worth celebrating.
Besides, a one-run deficit was far better than a two-run deficit.
The home plate umpire hesitated.
The play had happened too quickly.
Although he had been standing close by, his angle wasn't perfect.
Even he hadn't seen everything clearly.
Meanwhile, Zhou Hao climbed to his feet.
The first thing he did was look at both the umpire and Harada.
Harada was an experienced player.
He had pride.
But not the kind of rigid pride that would compel him to correct every mistaken call.
If the umpire ruled Zhou Hao out, Harada probably wouldn't step forward to argue against it.
Most players wouldn't.
At best, he simply wouldn't actively claim the out.
The glove he was holding up wasn't proof of a tag.
It was merely the instinctive reaction of someone who hadn't fully processed what had just happened.
Yet from the umpire's perspective, that raised glove was currently the strongest piece of evidence available.
Before the umpire could make a ruling, Zhou Hao spoke.
"You didn't see it clearly just now."
He looked directly at Harada.
"But Harada-senpai's glove didn't touch me, right?"
The umpire immediately turned toward Harada.
In an instant, the pressure shifted.
Now the final decision rested entirely with him.
Zhou Hao had made his move.
He was gambling.
Harada wasn't a saint.
But he cared about his reputation.
More importantly, he cared about Inashiro's reputation.
There were cameras everywhere.
Television cameras.
Reporters.
Fans recording with phones.
Even if the official broadcast missed the angle, someone would eventually upload footage online.
The truth would come out sooner or later.
For himself.
For Inashiro.
Zhou Hao was confident Harada wouldn't lie.
Of course, this strategy depended heavily on the opponent.
Against someone like Yuki Tetsuya, Zhou Hao would make the same bet.
The odds would still be excellent.
But against someone like Isashiki Jun or Kuramochi Yoichi?
That would be a different story entirely.
If those two claimed they hadn't seen clearly, that alone would already be considered generous.
More likely, they would insist they made the tag.
And even if video evidence later proved them wrong?
They would probably shrug and say they made a mistake.
Whether anyone believed them or not wouldn't matter.
Expecting opponents like that to voluntarily surrender a run would be wishful thinking.
Zhou Hao stared at Harada.
The umpire stared at Harada.
For half a second, Harada Masatoshi remained silent.
As Inashiro's captain and starting catcher, he understood better than anyone what this run meant.
A second run could be devastating.
Yet despite that, he couldn't bring himself to lie.
His principles wouldn't allow it.
More importantly, neither he nor Inashiro could afford the shame that would follow if the truth was exposed.
If he lied here, it wouldn't only damage his own reputation.
It would damage the reputation of the entire team.
Finally, Harada spoke.
"It didn't touch him."
The moment those words left his mouth, the tension visibly left the umpire's face.
"Safe!"
The umpire's call echoed throughout the stadium.
"Run scores!"
"Seido High School extends its lead!"
The scoreboard changed immediately.
2-0.
A wave of frustration swept through the Inashiro supporters.
For a brief moment, some even found themselves wondering—
Had their school raised its players a little too well?
Harada himself felt conflicted after speaking.
Had he made the right choice?
Then he looked up and saw Zhou Hao smiling.
Immediately, he understood.
That brat had known all along.
There was no way Zhou Hao hadn't realized the glove missed him.
The question had never been about uncertainty.
It had been a test.
A test of Harada's character.
Had he lied, not only would Zhou Hao have looked down on him, but once the truth surfaced, baseball fans across the country would have looked down on both him and Inashiro.
Fortunately, he hadn't betrayed his conscience.
A sense of relief slowly spread through his chest.
Whatever happened next, he could at least hold his head high.
The score now stood at 2-0.
Everyone in the stadium understood the significance of those numbers.
Coming back from one run against Seido was already incredibly difficult.
Two runs?
It felt almost impossible.
The chances of an Inashiro comeback had shrunk to nearly zero.
Meanwhile, the Seido dugout exploded with excitement.
Their opportunity had finally arrived.
One out.
Runner on first.
The next batter stepped into the box.
Isashiki Jun.
And unlike Yuki, he showed no intention of being patient.
The moment Narumiya Mei released the ball, Isashiki attacked.
Crack!
The ball shot off the bat and bounced sharply across the infield.
Isashiki blinked in surprise.
Even after surrendering a run, Narumiya Mei's pitches still carried incredible power.
It was as if the previous inning's exertion had never happened.
"Damn it..."
"What did this monster eat today?"
Unfortunately, admiration wouldn't save him.
The ball was fielded cleanly and fired to first base.
Pop!
"Out!"
But before Inashiro could celebrate—
Another call rang out.
Pop!
"Safe!"
The stadium erupted once again.
Although Isashiki Jun was retired, Seido's offense wasn't over yet.
While the play unfolded, Yuki Tetsuya advanced safely to second base.
The situation became:
Two outs, runner on second.
A runner in scoring position.
A golden opportunity.
What excited Seido's players and supporters even more was the identity of the next batter.
"Sixth Batter, Number Two, Catcher, Miyuki Kazuya!"
The moment Miyuki stepped into the batter's box, the Seido stands erupted.
"This is the moment!"
"Finish them off right here!"
"Show them why you're Seido's most dangerous sixth batter!"
Among Seido's supporters, there was a widely accepted belief.
Whenever there was a runner on base, Miyuki Kazuya became a completely different hitter.
His ability to produce runs was often compared to that of Yuki Tetsuya and Zhou Hao.
Earlier, those two had already broken through Narumiya Mei's pitching and scored.
Now it was Miyuki's turn.
Naturally, everyone expected him to deliver another decisive blow.
If Seido could score again here and stretch the lead to three runs, even Narumiya Mei's iron will would surely be shaken.
That would be Seido's chance to completely seize control of the game.
On the mound, however, Narumiya Mei remained frighteningly calm.
Among Seido's players, there were only a few capable of stirring his emotions.
Zhou Hao was one.
Miyuki Kazuya was another.
In fact, aside from Zhou Hao, Miyuki was probably the player Narumiya wanted to defeat most.
Under normal circumstances, facing an opponent like Miyuki should have ignited his competitive spirit.
Yet his expression remained composed.
Almost eerily so.
It was as if nothing outside the game could affect him anymore.
His focus was fixed solely on one goal:
Defeating the batter standing in front of him.
Miyuki understood this better than anyone.
People often joked that Miyuki's batting with runners on base was practically a cheat code.
While exaggerated, there was some truth to it.
With runners aboard, pitchers tended to become more predictable.
By reading the game situation and the opponent's tendencies, Miyuki could often narrow down the likely pitch selection before the ball even left the pitcher's hand.
Just like now.
He already had a strong idea of what Narumiya intended to throw.
Normally, that level of preparation would greatly increase his chances of making solid contact.
He had proven it countless times throughout his baseball career.
But this time felt different.
Standing in the batter's box, Miyuki sensed it clearly.
He might not be able to drive this pitch.
Narumiya Mei wasn't the same pitcher he had faced before.
He had grown.
He had matured.
Most importantly, he had become steadier.
Facing a pitcher in this state was difficult enough.
Adding his overwhelming competitive drive only made the challenge greater.
Beneath that calm exterior, Narumiya's fighting spirit burned hotter than ever.
Every cell in his body seemed to be screaming.
Even with defeat looming closer, he wasn't shaken.
By all rights, someone as prideful as Narumiya Mei should have found the situation unbearable.
Yet he had already adjusted his mindset.
He was pushing past his limits.
Breaking through the restraints that had held him back.
Trying to become stronger.
To Inashiro's players and coaches, winning the Kanto Tournament was important.
But it wasn't everything.
The true battlefield awaited in the Summer Tournament.
Compared to that stage, today's result wasn't worth obsessing over.
What mattered was growth.
What mattered was becoming stronger.
Narumiya understood that better than anyone.
At this moment, he had entered a state of complete concentration.
A state bordering on obsession.
Whoosh!
The baseball exploded from his fingertips.
Miyuki had expected a fastball.
Even so, dealing with it was another matter entirely.
The pitch exceeded 150 km/h and carried vicious late movement.
Knowing it was coming didn't mean he could stop it.
Sometimes overwhelming power simply crushed preparation.
Miyuki clenched his teeth.
There was no other choice.
He swung.
Clang!
The instant bat met ball, a violent shock surged through his arms.
It felt as though his teeth might crack from the impact alone.
Unbelievable.
Yet entirely real.
Narumiya's pitching had reached an astonishing level.
For the first time, Miyuki truly understood why so many Seido batters had struggled against him throughout the game.
This wasn't ordinary pitching.
This was dominance.
Using every ounce of strength he had, Miyuki managed to force the ball into play.
The moment contact was made, he sprinted toward first base.
Thousands of spectators followed the ball's flight.
The white sphere climbed into the sky.
Hung there for a moment.
Then began to descend.
An Inashiro fielder was already waiting.
As if he had known exactly where it would land.
Pop!
The ball settled cleanly into his glove.
"Out!"
The third out.
Inning over.
Even with a runner in scoring position, Miyuki Kazuya had been shut down.
The crowd could hardly believe it.
"Incredible..."
"He overpowered Miyuki head-on."
Everyone knew Miyuki had anticipated the pitch.
He had been prepared.
He had even made contact.
Yet the result was still nowhere near what he wanted.
Narumiya Mei's sheer pitching strength had overwhelmed him.
Three outs.
Change sides.
The game entered the eighth inning.
And Inashiro's heart of the lineup was coming up to bat.
For the players of Inashiro Industrial High School, this was likely their final opportunity.
"Fourth Batter, Number Two, Catcher, Harada Masatoshi!"
Harada stepped into the batter's box.
No one on the team blamed him for allowing that run to score.
Not a single teammate had criticized his decision.
But Harada himself couldn't let it go.
The frustration lingered inside him like a thorn.
As he settled into his stance, he slowly raised his bat.
His eyes locked onto the pitcher on the mound.
Zhou Hao.
The score was 2-0.
Inashiro stood on the edge of defeat.
And Harada had no intention of going down quietly.