Two outs, nobody on base.
Standing in the batter's box, Zhou Hao activated his Sharingan—his gaze sharp, his entire being ready for battle.
So far, he had faced Akahoshi twice—once hitting a home run, and once being intentionally walked.
Clearly, that home run had left a mark.
The pitcher no longer dared to face him directly.
Zhou Hao didn't know if they would walk him again this time.
But regardless of the outcome, he was prepared.
Whether he was walked or pitched to, he had to get on base.
Ikeda High's resilience had been impressive. Even after sending out their hidden ace, they still hadn't managed a single hit—let alone a run.
Any other team would've already cracked under such relentless pressure, either resorting to reckless desperation or outright giving up.
But Ikeda's players didn't.
Their determination remained unshaken. They kept searching for chances, for any sliver of opportunity to close the gap.
Baseball is unpredictable—round, just like the ball itself.
Just because Seidou was leading now didn't mean they always would.
As the core of the team, Zhou Hao knew his role clearly: to widen that gap.
To crush every last shred of the opponent's hope.
If Ikeda was a stubborn weed that refused to die, then Zhou Hao's job was to widen the score until it became impossible for them to grow back.
Meanwhile, Ikeda's catcher was torn.
Boos echoed from the stands.
Many of their own supporters had started to turn against them, disgusted by their overly cautious approach.
They looked like villains being scorned by the crowd.
But if they dared face Zhou Hao head-on and got blasted for another home run, that humiliation would be ten times worse.
The scoreboard flashed 2–0.
With Seidou's airtight defense, even if Zhou Hao stopped playing, Ikeda would have a hard time catching up.
If the lead stretched to three runs, it would be game over for their weak offense.
"Are we still walking him?"
The catcher hesitated, glancing toward Akahoshi on the mound.
The pitcher's expression was grim. His eyes narrowed, cold light flashing within them.
"No—this time, we face him head-on."
The catcher froze.
A chill ran down his spine as Zhou Hao's image surfaced in his mind.
To be honest, Zhou Hao was even harder to deal with than Yuki or Azuma Kiyokuni.
Still, Akahoshi's will was firm.
"There's no retreat for us anymore. If we back down now, it's over!"
He knew that if they let fear dictate their next move, the entire team's fighting spirit would collapse.
Even if they somehow escaped this inning, they'd already be beaten.
"We've been cornered. The only way out is to fight with our backs against the wall."
Solving Zhou Hao directly would be a massive morale boost. Failing to do so would only accelerate their downfall.
But at least they'd go down swinging.
From the stands, Akutsu—watching intently—already understood what Akahoshi was thinking.
A small boy sitting beside him tugged at his sleeve.
"Big Brother, you like Zhou Hao too, right? His swing is so cool—almost as cool as yours!"
Akutsu's lips twitched.
Even his little brother, who had always thought he was the best in the world, had switched sides.
He chuckled bitterly.
"Zhou Hao of Seidou... I didn't expect you to push Akahoshi this far. I'm getting excited to face you myself. Don't you dare lose before we meet."
A gentle breeze blew, rustling the characters printed across Akutsu's uniform—"Seishosha."
A powerhouse name on the Koshien stage.
Year after year, they ranked among the nation's top four, and occasionally, they even reached the finals.
If Japan's high school baseball teams were divided by tiers, Osaka Kiryu stood alone as the "Universe Team."
Just below them were titans like Seishosha and Seibo.
And then came the next tier—national powerhouses such as Inashiro, Seidou, and Ichidai Third—teams with top-level strength but fewer historical achievements.
Back on the field, Akahoshi had made up his mind.
He wound up and hurled the pitch with all his strength.
"Whoosh!"
The white ball screamed through the air.
Ikeda's catcher's eyes widened in shock.
A straight ball?!
He hadn't expected that.
Sure, Zhou Hao's biggest weakness was his lack of sheer power—his hits didn't carry the explosive force of someone like Yuki or Miyuki.
That meant that, theoretically, a fastball with enough speed and tailing motion could shut him down.
It had worked before.
When Osaka Kiryu's ace, Kuroda, faced Seidou, he had made Zhou Hao completely helpless—forcing weak grounders that were easily fielded.
But Akahoshi wasn't Kuroda.
And what Kuroda could do didn't mean Akahoshi could replicate it.
In the batter's box, Zhou Hao narrowed his eyes.
He not only saw through the pitch—but also through Akahoshi's mindset.
"You think you can make me helpless with that?"
Naive.
Yes, a fastball could suppress his home run power.
But Akahoshi was gambling—relying on his fielders to back him up.
At worst, Zhou Hao would just reach base.
It wasn't that big of a risk—two outs, nobody on base.
Then Zhou Hao's Sharingan flared.
Scarlet light flashed in his eyes.
As the ball approached, the world slowed to a crawl.
He could see the spin of the seams, the trajectory, the landing point—all crystal clear.
In his mind, the field transformed into a glowing map.
Every Ikeda player appeared as a red dot, perfectly outlined.
"This feeling again…"
A simple straight pitch. He just needed to direct it where he wanted.
"Fly out!"
Zhou Hao gripped the bat tight, veins bulging along his arms.
As the ball entered the zone—
"Ping!"
The bat met the ball with perfect precision, striking its core.
The baseball rocketed off, cutting through the air.
Ikeda's catcher stared blankly.
The worst-case scenario had unfolded before his eyes.
Akahoshi whipped around, shouting,
"Outfield! Get it!"
But what he saw made his heart sink.
The outfielder wasn't where he was supposed to be.
A ball that should've been catchable now had zero chance of being stopped.
"Why is he out of position!?"
Akahoshi couldn't comprehend it.
The fielder had misread the hit, anticipating a different landing spot.
By the time he realized his mistake, the ball had already bounced past him.
"Clap!"
In the stands, Seidou's supporters erupted.
"It's through!"
"A hit!"
"No—wait, that's a long hit!"
Normally, Zhou Hao would have stopped at first.
But this time, his speed shocked everyone.
He blurred like lightning—an afterimage racing across the diamond.
In the blink of an eye, he was already sliding into second base.
"Safe!"
Two outs, runner on second.
Ikeda had lost their gamble.
But instead of deflating, their players' morale seemed to rise.
Akahoshi's decision to face Zhou Hao head-on reignited their fighting spirit.
"That's how it should be!"
"No matter who the opponent is—we fight!"
"Zhou Hao's just a man with two arms like the rest of us!"
Their dugout roared back to life.
The game pressed on.
"Third batter, first baseman—Yuki!"
The moment Yuki stepped into the box, his towering presence could be felt across the field.
Akahoshi had already struck him out twice. On paper, he had the advantage.
But Ikeda's catcher couldn't relax.
"This guy's stance… it's infuriating. He looks like he could crush any pitch at any moment."
Even with two strikeouts, Yuki still radiated danger.
Akahoshi, however, remained composed.
Despite the earlier setback, he stood tall—projecting confidence.
He lifted his leg high and unleashed his pitch.
"Whoosh!"
Yuki's body, still and calm a moment ago, suddenly exploded into motion.
"Boom!"
The swing was so fast it left a streak of light.
"Ping!"
The baseball shot off like a bolt of lightning.
Ikeda's fielders froze in place.
Move! Move!
Their minds screamed, but their bodies refused to obey.
By the time they snapped out of it, the ball had already bounced past.
"Safe!"
Yuki reached first easily.
And Zhou Hao—who had been waiting at second—took off like the wind.
He rounded third at full speed.
The outfielder barely retrieved the ball before realizing—it was too late.
Even throwing home would be useless.
He redirected his throw to second, trying to prevent Yuki from advancing.
But Zhou Hao was already there—sliding across home plate.
"Safe!"
Seidou's third run.
3–0.
Two outs in the bottom of the sixth inning.
Three runs might not seem like much—but against Akahoshi and Ikeda's defense, every one was gold.
And all three runs had one name behind them—Zhou Hao.
In the stands, Seidou's fans went wild, faces flushed with excitement.
"Invincible Zhou Hao!!"
"So cool!!!"
They couldn't think of any more words to praise him.
He was too good. Too unstoppable.
As far as this game was concerned, there was no other word for him—
Zhou Hao was invincible.
And as long as he stood on that field, Ikeda High School Baseball Team didn't stand a chance.
"Let's strike while the iron's hot—finish them off completely!"