The West Tokyo Final.

Seidō High vs. Ichidai Third.

Bottom of the second inning.

Leadoff man Matsumoto stepped in for Seidō. Even with a five-run cushion, their offense showed no sign of slowing.

Ping!

He ripped the first pitch, legs churning down the line. But the throw beat him by half a step.

"Out!!"

One out. No runner on base. Ichidai's supporters exhaled in relief.

But then the announcer called the next batter, and that relief vanished.

"Second batter, number 20—pitcher, Zhou Hao."

Even Ichidai, proud powerhouse of West Tokyo, felt a ripple of unease. Their fans whispered, their players stiffened.

They knew Zhou Hao's record. They had seen what he'd done already today. With him, the impossible always felt one swing away.

On the mound, Kimura's jaw clenched. The humiliation of the first inning still burned. He locked eyes on Seidō's monster freshman.

Not this time.

"If you've got the guts—try and hit this!!"

He went straight to his weapon: the Peerless Slider.

Whoosh!

The ball slashed low across the strike zone, cutting like a scalpel.

Zhou Hao's bat stayed silent.

"Strike!"

The crowd buzzed. Few batters in Tokyo could even touch that pitch, much less square it up. Kimura's confidence surged. If he could take down Zhou Hao here, it might swing the game's momentum back.

He fired again.

Whoosh!

Another razor, same plane, same deadly movement.

"Two in a row?" Seidō's bench murmured. "In front of Zhou Hao?"

Inside the box, Zhou Hao's eyes sharpened.

Through his Sharingan vision, he read the pitch's movement with clarity. He hadn't swung at the first one—the field had been sealed too tightly. No gaps, no chance for a clean hit.

But now, with Ichidai's defense shifted aggressively behind their ace, Zhou Hao saw it—an empty pocket deep in the outfield.

His grip tightened.

"I see it…"

The ball screamed in. Zhou Hao swung.

Ping!!

The crack reverberated through Jingu Stadium. The Peerless Slider—Ichidai's untouchable weapon—was sent flying.

The catcher froze.

Kimura's jaw dropped.

That pitch, their pride, had only ever been solved a handful of times at Koshien. In Tokyo? Never. Until today.

First by Yuki Tetsuya. Now by a first-year rookie.

"Are they already… Koshien-level batters?" someone whispered.

The ball carried deep, skipping to the back of the field. By the time Ichidai's outfielders scrambled it back in, Zhou Hao was sliding safely into second.

"Safe!!"

One out. Runner on second.

And a reminder to everyone watching: Zhou Hao's bat was just as lethal as his Spiral Ball.

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