At Hachioji Stadium, inside Seido High School's dugout.
"Look, those annoying guys are here," Azuma Kiyokuni said coldly.
Following his gaze, Zhang Han looked toward the opposite stands.
Familiar white uniforms. Exactly twenty-two people. Including the director and assistant coach, every member of Ichidai Third High School's first-string was present. They sat upright in the front row, whispering to one another while looking down at Seido's dugout.
Even though Zhang Han had no personal grudge against Ichidai Third—and even had some indirect connection with them—an intense sense of displeasure welled up in his chest.
The rivalry between Seido High School and Ichidai Third High School stretched back more than a century. Their mutual dislike seemed etched into their bones.
Now that Zhang Han had been fully recognized as a Seido player, he was no exception.
He felt it clearly, an impulse to grab every single Ichidai Third player and grind them into the dirt. And that was coming from someone who had never even played against them.
For the second- and third-year players, who carried far deeper grudges, the feeling was even stronger. Their eyes burned with fury.
They had to win this game.
Then, next Saturday, they would defeat Ichidai Third High School fair and square on the field and wash away the humiliation of the Spring Tournament.
"Ichidai Third is watching," Coach Kataoka said flatly. "Don't disgrace Seido. Go."
He didn't mention tactics. He didn't give instructions. Kataoka believed that with Ichidai Third present, motivation was unnecessary. The players would naturally push themselves to 120 percent.
Besides, while it was important to save trump cards against strong opponents, Seido had too many underlying weaknesses. Their so-called trump cards barely existed. At this point, Kataoka felt like a clever housewife with no rice to cook.
He no longer held unrealistic expectations for strategy. As long as the players displayed their true abilities and played to their strengths, that was enough. The rest would come with growth.
"Oh!!!"
The Seido players shouted in unison.
At the top of the first inning, Aoyama High School took the field to bat.
Seido sent out its full first-string lineup, each player standing firm in his position, waiting for the opponent's attack.
On the other side, Aoyama High School's players showed no fear of the powerhouse before them. They let out a loud roar and stepped onto the field one by one.
The first batter was Nijo, Aoyama's shortstop.
Based on scouting reports and his performance in earlier games, Seido already knew he was one of Aoyama's core players. Once this man reached base, Aoyama's chances of scoring rose sharply.
"We absolutely can't let them take an early lead," Miyuki said firmly from behind the plate. "The first pitch has to be decisive, senpai."
On the mound, Hidezawa—wearing number 1—clearly felt the pressure and trust coming from his junior.
Miyuki called for a breaking ball tight to the inside corner of the strike zone.
It was a brutal location. Tricky, dangerous, and demanding absolute control.
Whenever Hidezawa worked with Miyuki, he often had a strange illusion. It felt as though the person calling pitches wasn't a junior at all, but someone his own age—or even a senior.
Miyuki showed no mercy.
Pitchers were said to be self-centered by nature, and in Hidezawa's eyes, Miyuki Kazuya was just as unbearable. Arrogant. Self-righteous. Disrespectful to seniors. Sharp-tongued.
His flaws were endless.
But…
As a partner on the field, this brat was terrifyingly reliable.
Even compared to the injured Chris, Miyuki's talent as a catcher showed no inferiority.
For the team's victory, Hidezawa swallowed his irritation.
He raised his leg high, stepped forward hard, shifted his weight—and the ball shot out of his hand like a shell fired from a cannon.
"Whoosh!"
The moment the ball left his fingers, the batter's legs went weak.
From his perspective, what came toward him wasn't a baseball—it was a cannonball. Faced with such overwhelming force, he couldn't even think of resisting. He could only watch as the ball tore past him.
"Thwack!"
"Strike!"
The fielders behind Hidezawa erupted with excitement.
Before the tournament, Hidezawa's pitching had been unstable. Even early on, his condition hadn't been great. But as the games progressed, his potential had been fully drawn out.
His pitching grew steadier. His presence grew stronger. Now, he truly looked like an ace. No one felt this more clearly than Miyuki.
When the ball slammed into his glove, a powerful rotational shock surged through his left hand. The ball trembled violently, as if still trying to escape.
This feeling. It was incredible.
Even though the pitch didn't land exactly where he wanted, the sheer power and momentum had been fully unleashed. If Hidezawa could maintain this force, batters would find it extremely difficult to make contact.
"Nice pitch!"
"That was beautiful!"
"Let them hit it—we'll stop it!"
Under the ace's lead, Seido's morale surged. The fire in their eyes was no longer just hatred toward Ichidai Third or obsession with revenge.
They were starting to enjoy the game.
"Strike!"
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!"
"Ping!"
"Out!"
In the blink of an eye, Hidezawa had already retired the first two batters—one strikeout, one grounder.
Aoyama's hitters, facing his overwhelming pitching, looked like lambs waiting for slaughter. The third batter managed to make contact, gritting his teeth as he swung.
But the ball barely traveled fifteen meters before Zhang Han charged forward and secured it in his glove.
"Thwack!"
"Out!!!"
Right from the start, Seido High School Baseball Team retired Aoyama High School three up, three down.
A perfect opening.
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