Ichidai's battery stood frozen, eyes wide in disbelief.

Their peerless weapon—the Absolute Razor, untouchable by anyone in West Tokyo—had just been crushed by Yuki Tetsuya.

The two runs they had given up didn't sting. Ichidai had firepower of their own. They could make those back.

No, the wound was deeper. Their invincible blade had been broken. And once that happened, their aura of dominance began to crumble.

"Yuki Tetsuya…"

A batter they once handled with ease had grown into a wall towering above them.

And it wasn't over yet.

Stepping into the batter's box came Seido's cleanup.

Azuma Kiyokuni.

The monster.

"Already over 40 home runs in official games!" a fan shouted.

On paper, it wasn't the highest number. Some sluggers had surpassed fifty. But those players came from perennial Koshien giants, stacking up games every summer.

Azuma wasn't from that world. His path had been harder, his opportunities fewer.

And yet, his efficiency—home runs per game—was the highest in Tokyo. The rawest, most terrifying proof of his power.

The Ichidai battery steeled themselves.

"No matter what… we must get him out."

Kimura's poker face was intact, but his aura was fading. Each hit against him shaved away at that cold-blooded edge.

A master who once seemed untouchable had now been cornered—and everyone in Jingu Stadium could sense it.

Kimura's fingers dug into the seams. He unleashed with all his might.

Whoosh!

The ball spun in—off target. A fist off from where the catcher wanted it.

A normal pitcher's miss. For Kimura, a glaring error.

The catcher's eyes flickered with despair. Not here. Not against him.

But it was too late.

Boom!

Ping!

The sound was deafening. Higashi's bat transformed into a demon's claw, launching the ball into orbit.

The crowd tilted their heads back—watching the white dot soar, soar, and finally disappear beyond the stands.

"Home run!!!"

"Slap!"

The stadium exploded as Seido's fans raised their hands in wild celebration.

Against Ichidai. Against one of the three West Tokyo powerhouses. In the Koshien final itself—Azuma Kiyokuni had just blown the game wide open.

"Four to zero!!"

Seido's dugout roared.

Against Inashiro, they had scraped only five runs in extra innings. In official play, they rarely broke three.

But today? Before the dust of the first inning had even settled—they were up by four.

Seido's supporters trembled with joy. If they weren't dancing in the stands, it was only out of respect for Ichidai.

For the first time, it felt like Koshien was no longer a dream—but a reality within reach.

At the very back of Jingu Stadium, a group of Inashiro players stood in silence, watching.

Narumiya Mei was absent—shut away in his dorm since the semifinal loss. The "Baseball Prince" had refused to come out. Coach Kunimoto had ordered meals left at his door, but no one was allowed to disturb him.

So only the rest of Inashiro's roster had come. Seniors, juniors, even a few rookies—spread across the back rows in quiet clusters.

A third-year sneered bitterly.

"What the hell are these Ichidai clowns doing?"

The truth was sour. Many of them wanted Seido to win. But seeing Seido dominate so easily still stung.

"If we had just scored one more run…" someone muttered. The thought was poison. If they had beaten Seido, maybe they would be leading here, 4–0.

"No—it's not that Ichidai's weak," another corrected. "It's Seido's offense. They're on fire."

"And Kimura…" a senior added quietly, "he's shaken. First Zhou Hao got him. Then Yuki crushed his Slider. That would break anyone."

Dominoes. One slip led to another. Kimura's ability hadn't vanished—but his aura, his composure, his timing… everything was unraveling.

"If he doesn't reset his mindset, he'll just keep giving up runs."

The scoreboard blazed: 4–0.

The first inning wasn't even over. No outs. No runners on.

The announcer's voice cut through the chaos:

"Fifth batter—number six—shortstop, Shimoi Teru!"

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