Thwack!

"Struck out!"

The moment the baseball landed in Zhou Hao's glove, the outcome was sealed.

Tokyo's top-ranked monster, Azuma Kiyokuni, had been struck out.

And it was Sawamura Eijun who achieved it—in just four pitches.

Of course, half the credit belonged to Zhou Hao. Without his provocations, without his trust, without his perfect catching, the result might have been very different. Especially that final pitch: cornered with two strikes, Azuma had no choice but to swing. Sawamura's breaking ball on the outside corner became the decisive blow. The ending was already written.

"Damn it, you tricked me!" Azuma roared. His glare locked on Zhou Hao. "Give me the largest metal bat!"

The small flame of frustration in him had become an inferno.

"Don't think you can run away just because you won a round! Let's keep going!"

"I wouldn't run," Sawamura muttered, his usual stubborn fire burning.

If, at that moment, he had thrown down his glove and walked away, leaving only his dashing silhouette behind—Seidou's players would remember him as a legend. Never had a rookie shown such brilliance in a team tryout.

But Sawamura wasn't that type. He stayed on the mound, ready to keep throwing.

That was when Zhou Hao stood up.

"What, you running away?" Azuma taunted.

But Zhou Hao didn't answer him. Instead, he jerked his chin toward the edge of the field. Miyuki had just returned, guiding Chris back from rehab training.

"The professional's back," Zhou Hao said casually. "I'm just an amateur—I'll stop showing off."

Sawamura didn't leave a legendary silhouette. Zhou Hao did. His brief turn as catcher had left everyone, even Takashima Rei, deeply impressed.

If Zhou Hao hadn't invested everything into his pitching skills, his future as a catcher might have been just as bright. Many Seidou players thought so in silence.

But Zhou Hao had another reason for stepping away—self-preservation. In a best-of-three, he might eventually lose. He couldn't risk giving away the breaking ball he had just earned.

[Task complete! Congratulations to the host for obtaining the Uchiha Clan's exclusive Shuriken Throwing Technique!]

Memories surged into his mind. Unlike kunai, which flew straight, shuriken curved because of their rotation. The Uchiha had perfected that curve into an art. Their shuriken could bend through the air at impossible angles, striking with deadly precision.

Zhou Hao imagined that same rotation on a baseball. If my breaking ball curved like a shuriken… no one could touch it.

Baseballs, of course, weren't flat like shuriken. There were limits. But even so, the possibilities thrilled him.

His thoughts were broken when Sawamura stomped over, sulking like a child abandoned by his guardian. His eyes glared at Zhou Hao with raw resentment.

"I'm not a real catcher. That guy with glasses is," Zhou Hao said, nodding toward Miyuki. "Catching you off guard was my limit. In a real head-to-head, we'd lose badly. He's different—he'll bring out the full power of your pitches."

Sawamura's frown softened. Miyuki, however, was puzzled. Why should he, a first-string catcher, babysit a middle-school rookie?

But Takashima Rei's quiet words and the display he had just witnessed lit a spark of curiosity in him. If Zhou Hao and Sawamura together could strike out Azuma Kiyokuni… then what would happen with him behind the plate?

Eager, Miyuki slipped into his gear.

Azuma no longer cared who the catcher was. His sole focus was the pitcher in front of him: Sawamura Eijun. Raising his bat high, he prepared his strongest stance.

After just two warm-up pitches, Miyuki understood.

"Still a strange one," he muttered, smirking. Sawamura's raw, unpredictable style was unlike anyone else's. Rougher than Tanba. Wilder than Yoshida. Yet his natural talent was undeniable.

The consensus among Seidou's bench shifted. Tanba, once their hopeful ace, suddenly looked less vital. His style might suit the role of ace on paper, but in practice, there were other, more promising candidates. Kawakami was seen as a stronger relief option—but could he step up? That was still uncertain.

Sawamura, however, offered something more. Not just immediate strength, but continuity. In the future, when Zhou Hao and the current generation graduated, Seidou would need another ace. Someone to inherit the mound and keep their glory alive.

Sawamura Eijun fit that future.

Next, he pitched eleven more balls. He recorded a strikeout and another out, though he also gave up two hits. The score shifted to 3–2.

Azuma wanted more. He wanted to keep swinging until he broke through. But after fifteen straight pitches, Sawamura's stamina was visibly dipping. To continue would be bullying a younger, weaker opponent—something even Azuma Kiyokuni couldn't bring himself to do.

Reluctantly, he accepted the result.

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