The moment the bat connected, a roar erupted from the Ichidai Third supporters.

The ball shot into the air, and for an instant, the stands exploded in excitement. Their voices surged, believing they had just witnessed the impossible—Seidou's rookie ace, the very same pitcher who had silenced Inashiro, was being tagged in the very first at-bat.

"Fly out! Fly away!!" they shouted.

But the white ball hung in the sky, thirty meters… then stalled. Its arc bent sharply downward, dropping like a stone.

The cheers died in their throats, smothered as if ice water had been poured over the entire section.

Akita, who had swung so confidently, narrowed his brows into a hard scowl. That pitch… did it rise?

The movement was subtle, almost imperceptible. Yet it was enough. His "perfect hit" had turned into nothing more than a lazy pop fly.

"Pop!"

Matsumoto, Seidou's shortstop, hardly moved before making the catch.

"One out!"

The umpire's call echoed.

Akita returned to the dugout, shoulders heavy. Coach Tahara's face darkened.

"Why were you in such a hurry to swing?" he snapped.

The strategy had been clear: wear down Zhou Hao, rack up his pitch count, wait until fatigue set in. They had even studied Seidou's match against Inashiro—by extra innings, Zhou Hao's stamina had clearly been strained. With patience, they could force that weakness open by the sixth or seventh inning.

Yet here they were, their leadoff man gone in a single swing.

Akita lowered his head. "I'm… sorry."

But inside, he was frustrated. That pitch was right down the middle. Who could resist?

The plan already wavered.

The second batter stepped up—Ichidai's ace pitcher, Kimura. Calm, reserved, ordinary in build, he seemed almost invisible among his team's giants.

Miyuki crouched behind the plate, eyeing him carefully.

"Your turn," he muttered.

Zhou Hao wound up, seamless and precise, and delivered.

Another straight ball, dead center.

Kimura's eyes widened. So that's why Akita couldn't hold back…

Instinct took over. The bat swung before thought could catch it.

Ping!

The ball skipped along the infield dirt.

Yuki at first base scooped it cleanly, stepped on the bag.

"Out!"

Two outs.

The stadium buzzed in disbelief. Two batters gone in under ten seconds.

Tahara's expression darkened further. No… this isn't disobedience. Something's wrong with that ball.

The third batter strode forward—Omae, Ichidai's core slugger, a towering second-year standing 185 centimeters tall. His presence alone made the air heavy.

The crowd stirred. If anyone could shatter this spell, it was him.

Zhou Hao didn't flinch. Another windup, another pitch. Again, it barreled straight into the heart of the strike zone.

"Are you mocking me?" Omae snarled, gripping the bat with both hands. He stepped forward and unleashed a monstrous swing.

Boom!

The sound cracked through the stadium. The ball soared, rocketing nearly a hundred meters. Ichidai's supporters leapt to their feet in relief.

"Yes! That's—"

Their cheers froze.

Out in left field, a familiar figure stood waiting.

Isashiki Jun, mustache twitching, raised his glove and caught it without taking a single step.

Pop!

"Out!"

Three batters. Three swings. Three outs.

The inning was over.

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A/N: I'm really sorry for posting late, everyone. Our house needed some repairs, and I've been busy helping with that. Thank you so much for understanding and for continuing to support me—it really means a lot!

Support me at patréon com/DaoOfPeeking