Morning practice had ended, but the Seido High School Baseball Team wasn't in a hurry to leave.
At first, only the First String players lingered. Then the Second String and even the Third String wandered over, drawn by the commotion.
"What's going on? A fight?" Kuramochi Yoichi elbowed his way through the crowd, expecting some kind of drama.
When he broke through, he froze—Zhou Hao was on the pitcher's mound.
"A private showdown, huh? Who's the opponent?"
Kuramochi turned toward the batter's box… and his eyes nearly popped out.
"That's… Azuma-senpai?!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Faces around him were just as stunned.
"This is during the tournament…"
"How did those two end up facing each other?"
"Didn't the Director stop them?"
Everyone understood what this meant—Seido's true Ace against their cleanup hitter, right before the finals. No matter who lost, it could hurt the team's momentum.
"The Director and the manager aren't here. They must've approved it."
"As expected of Azuma-senpai—only he could get permission for something like this."
"Or maybe it's intentional… Go, Zhou Hao!"
Kuramochi didn't care about "what's right." If Zhou Hao was involved, he was on his side. But the moment he shouted, Azuma Kiyokuni's glare cut through the air like a blade.
Even fearless Kuramochi felt a shiver, coughed awkwardly, and stepped back. Yeah… better not mess with him.
"Heh-heh… come on! Show me your Straight ball!" Azuma's voice rumbled with anticipation, eyes locked on Zhou Hao.
This wasn't their first duel. In the past, Azuma had swung and missed plenty against Zhou Hao—but back then, Zhou Hao mixed in other pitches. In a pure Straight ball showdown, Azuma believed the advantage was his.
He adjusted his stance, lowering his center of gravity, ready to crush anything in the strike zone.
Behind the plate, Miyuki studied him. Azuma was as dangerous as they came—especially with his knowledge of Zhou Hao's pitching. With that huge metal bat in his hands, any contact could send the ball into orbit.
Still… facing someone like this before the finals is definitely worth it.
He gave the sign: No hesitation. Make it sharp. Against a fully locked-in Azuma, anything less would be a mistake.
Zhou Hao felt power surge through him. He understood exactly why Azuma looked so confident—but he wasn't about to back down.
Leg lift. Stride. Arm whip. Wrist snap. Smooth, fluid, almost effortless.
Whoosh!
The pitch shot out like a bullet. At barely under 140 km/h, it wasn't overpowering—but its purity made it feel faster than it was.
The speed's up again… and the motion's cleaner. Azuma's eyes narrowed. He'd sensed it yesterday against Inashiro, but here in the box it was even more obvious.
"I'll admit… that's impressive," he muttered.
Still, it wasn't beyond what he'd expected. He let the first pitch go.
On the second pitch, his aura changed. Miyuki could feel it—predatory, dangerous.
Boom!
The swing ripped the air apart. The bat met the ball squarely.
Ping!
The crowd tensed—Zhou Hao had mowed down Inashiro's lineup, yet here was Azuma making clean contact.
But then… the ball veered off, sailing ten meters outside the foul line.
"Azuma, you trying to hit birds out here?" a third-year teased. "Hit it straight. Don't let the first-years think we're sloppy."
"You're the face of our team—even if your face is a little big—"
"Shut it!" Azuma barked. "If you don't wanna watch, go eat."
Not one of the hundred-plus players moved toward the cafeteria. All eyes stayed on the duel.
"One strike… keep it coming!!" Azuma roared.
Bold words—but inside, he was rattled.
In such a short time since their last face-off, Zhou Hao had become a different pitcher. This Straight ball was on a whole new level—sharper, heavier, harder to read.
Azuma's grip tightened. If he was going to win, he'd have to blast this ball away. As Seido's cleanup hitter, there was no other option.
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