"The first-round, third game of the Koshien Tournament—Seidou High School vs. Osaka Kiryu High School—has officially begun!"

Normally, early-round games at Koshien didn't draw much of a crowd.

But today was different.

The vast stands were nearly packed, with barely an empty seat in sight.

"Why are there so many people?"

Even seasoned reporters, veterans of countless Koshien tournaments, were stunned. They had never seen this level of turnout for a first-round matchup.

"When two national powerhouses clash, the teams alone bring a massive following. Add to that their schools, alumni, and legions of silent fans…"

Those with insight weren't shocked at all.

This was the weight of prestige.

The showdown between the super dark horse Seidou and the reigning Koshien king Osaka Kiryu.

Many online had already declared it:

Whoever won this game would likely claim the championship.

Under this spotlight, the match began.

What astonished many neutral fans was Seidou's composure. Despite this being their long-awaited return to Koshien, not a trace of nerves showed on their faces.

"These players aren't just calm," the commentator observed. "They're confident—utterly convinced of their own ability to handle any situation."

The broadcast was going nationwide. Millions—perhaps tens of millions—were watching.

In Nagano Prefecture, the family of Sawamura Eijun sat crowded around the TV, joined by his childhood baseball friends.

"Wow!"

"So this is Seidou?"

"They look amazing!"

"Which one's the pitcher you'll be teammates with?"

Sawamura pointed at the screen. Just then, the camera cut to a close-up of the mound.

Top of the first inning.

Osaka Kiryu was batting first.

And Seidou, as always, sent their true Ace: Zhou Hao.

It was their tried-and-true tactic.

Let Zhou Hao dominate the opening, send a warning shot that left opponents reeling, and then pull him around the fourth or fifth inning to conserve strength for emergencies.

This strategy had carried them past giants like Inashiro and Ichidai Third.

On Koshien's stage, nothing was going to change.

Zhou Hao took the mound.

Opposite him, Osaka Kiryu's leadoff batter, Kitamura Hikaru, stepped into the box, bat raised high, his stance radiating tension.

"Kitamura's up! Their best left-handed batter!"

Chants of encouragement rolled through the Osaka Kiryu supporters.

Then—without warning—Zhou Hao delivered.

Even as he wound up, nothing seemed out of place.

It wasn't until the ball exploded from his hand that the stadium realized something was different.

Boom!

The ball ripped through the air, spinning violently as if it would tear everything apart.

Kitamura's mind blanked.

Too strong.

Too fast.

Before he could even react, the ball thundered into Chris's mitt.

Thwack!

"Strike!"

The Osaka Kiryu supporters froze, mouths hanging open.

The batter hadn't even swung.

"W-what was that?"

"Who is this guy?"

"That pitch was insane!"

On-screen graphics confirmed it: 143 km/h Spiral Ball.

Even Seidou's bench momentarily forgot to cheer, stunned by the sheer violence of the pitch.

The commentator's voice carried the awe of millions watching at home:

"A 143 km/h Spiral Ball—unhittable if you can't even track it!"

But Zhou Hao wasn't done.

Boom!

The second pitch screamed forward.

Kitamura swung this time—late. Too late.

Thwack!

"Strike!"

Two straight. The count was brutal.

The stadium fell eerily silent, fans on both sides holding their breath.

Then came the third.

Boom!

The ball howled again.

Kitamura gritted his teeth, unleashing a desperate swing.

Thwack!

"Strike!"

"Strikeout!"

The umpire's cry split the air.

In just three pitches, Zhou Hao had erased Osaka Kiryu's leadoff hitter.

His figure stood tall on the mound, burned into the eyes of millions across the nation.

--------------

Support me at patréon com/DaoOfPeeking