"We won!"
"Congratulations to the Seidou High School Baseball Team for being the first to advance to the finals!"
After the game ended, the supporters of Seidou High School in the stands were beyond excited—some were even moved to tears.
They had believed for a long time that Seidou had the potential to dominate the nation. But believing was one thing—achieving it was another. Before the results were in, no one truly dared to say it out loud.
Until now.
At this moment, the fans could finally raise their heads proudly.
They could declare to the world without hesitation:
Seidou High School is the strongest!
They had reached the finals—just one step away from the national championship.
The players, too, accepted the victory calmly. Their opponent wasn't strong, and the game had been a straightforward win.
Originally, they thought they would be more excited. After all, reaching the finals was an honor Seidou hadn't experienced in many years. For several seasons, the team had been in a slump—receiving cold shoulders from fans and harsh criticism from the media.
But the players had always carried the burning desire to restore Seidou's pride.
And now, they hadn't just restored it—they had surpassed expectations.
They had created the strongest Seidou team in nearly two decades.
Logically, this should have made them ecstatic. Proud. Even arrogant.
But instead… something felt off.
Only after the semi-finals ended did the players realize—they weren't as happy as they imagined.
Their defeated opponent, Rokkaku High School, was devastated. Their players and even their coach cried bitterly. It was a heartbreaking sight.
And seeing that, Seidou couldn't bring themselves to smile.
Now that they had reached the finals, their emotions had shifted. From the moment the semifinals ended, every member of the Seidou baseball team had only one thought:
Dominate the nation.
Their final opponent: Seibō High School.
After returning to the hotel, the coaching staff gathered the players for an emergency meeting. Data on Seibō High School was projected repeatedly.
Their strength was extraordinary.
Even Miyuki, usually full of confidence and sharp remarks, couldn't help but whistle softly.
"As expected of a finals opponent… their level really is something else."
Takashima Rei adjusted her glasses, her voice serious.
"Judging from paper strength alone, Seibō might actually be stronger than Osaka Kiryu."
That shocked many players.
The supposed No. 1 seed had always been Osaka Kiryu. Most people assumed Seibō was a step below.
But after comparing both teams' data side-by-side, the truth became clear:
Seibō might be this year's true top seed.
Their overall lineup was even more complete. If Seibō and Osaka Kiryu had met in the finals, Seibō likely would have won.
But things were different now.
Because the ones standing in the finals were Seidou, the biggest dark horse of the tournament.
And Seidou was no longer the team that barely held their own against Osaka Kiryu weeks ago.
Since the start of Koshien, Seidou's improvement had been dramatic—especially their Ace, Zhou Hao, whose presence on the field had become synonymous with invincibility.
Whenever Zhou Hao pitched, he was the absolute center of attention—no one else came close.
Even with all that, media predictions still favored Seidou only slightly.
A 60–40 split.
Zhou Hao's dominance gave Seidou the edge—but Seibō still had a formidable 40% chance.
Their batting power was frightening. Their Ace pitcher was elite. The match would be the toughest Seidou had ever faced.
After the analysis, Coach Kataoka began observing his players.
He had one priority:
Only those with true resolve would step onto the final battlefield.
Anyone who lacked fighting spirit—or flinched under pressure—would not be given the chance.
As Kataoka swept his gaze across the players, their backs straightened. Starters and substitutes alike returned his look with burning determination.
No fear. No hesitation.
Just one message:
Send us, Coach. We'll win.
Seventeen of the eighteen players met his gaze confidently—including Tanba.
The only exception was Zhou Hao, who had his head lowered. But Kataoka didn't mind.
His unwritten rule was clear:
Zhou Hao will pitch in the finals no matter what.
With their spirits confirmed, Kataoka's tone softened.
"You all studied their players and their lineup. Tell me your thoughts."
Seidou had always emphasized baseball intelligence—thinking, adjusting, analyzing. This was why so many of their graduates thrived in professional baseball.
"If you ask me, their Ace isn't that scary," Azuma Kiyokuni began confidently. "He relies on switching between breaking balls and straight balls. Against us, his full strength won't come out."
Seibō's Ace was one of the nation's three great star pitchers—on the same level as Kuroda and Akutsu.
Azuma's relaxed comment immediately eased the tension in the room.
"That's right… compared to Kuroda and Akutsu, he might not be on the same level."
The players began discussing the opponent more freely.
Then someone brought up Seibō's dangerous batting lineup—instantly making everyone tense again.
Before negativity could spread, Chris spoke calmly:
"Zhou Hao might not be able to pitch the entire game."
The room stiffened.
Did he just say that out loud?
But before anyone could panic, Chris continued:
"But I don't think that's a problem."
Everyone stared, confused.
Chris straightened his posture.
"Zhou Hao has conserved stamina this entire tournament. If he pitches at full strength, Seibō won't have many chances. As for our offense—there's no way we won't score before the ninth inning."
His logic was sound.
If Seibō couldn't hit Zhou Hao's Spiral Ball, then all their supposed strengths remained theoretical.
Everything came down to execution.
"That's right! We've come this far—there's no way we're losing to Seibō!"
Confidence surged across the room.
Unlike Azuma's blind optimism, Chris's analysis was complete, logical, and convincing.
And it had another effect—
Miyuki clenched his fist.
This final would determine who would catch in the championship game—him or Chris.
Chris had spoken up first.
So Miyuki could no longer afford to stay silent.
He had to make his stand, too.