Top of the sixth inning. Two outs. Runners on First and Third Base.

Osaka Kiryuu High School Baseball Team’s offense was still raging.

Their lineup had already gone through a full cycle and returned to their Fifth Batter, Araki. Just moments earlier, Hidezawa had issued his first walk of the game, giving a free pass to the Fourth Batter, Masaoka. That walk had pushed the tension in the stadium even higher.

The scoreboard now read 10 to 7.

Osaka Kiryuu had taken the lead by three runs.

Up to this point, no one could confidently say when their offensive storm would finally end.

In the stands, the supporters of Osaka Kiryuu High School Baseball Team were ecstatic. Earlier in the inning, they had endured boos and accusations. The bunt tactics and stamina-draining strategy had drawn criticism from neutral spectators and Seido supporters alike.

As loyal fans of the Cosmic Team, they were not used to being questioned.

They had felt humiliated.

Now, they could finally vent.

The scoreboard spoke louder than any moral debate. Six runs had been scored in this inning alone. And judging by the momentum, the surge was not necessarily over.

They believed victory could be sealed right here.

What if they had been mocked earlier? Tactics were tactics. In competition, methods existed for one purpose only: to win.

People often said friendship came first and competition second. But anyone who truly believed that during a high-stakes game was naive.

A competition existed because there were winners and losers.

Winning was everything.

If you lost, all explanations became meaningless.

Even if Osaka Kiryuu’s methods were not elegant, if they secured victory, history would remember only the result.

The Commentator would smooth things over. He would say it was brilliant strategy. He might even praise Seido for being strong enough to force Osaka Kiryuu into such measures.

But in the end, the protagonist of this story would be Osaka Kiryuu.

Their supporters were already singing victory songs.

Although the game was far from over, in their eyes, the outcome had already been decided.

Hidezawa had collapsed.

In this inning alone, his pitch count had exceeded forty. Combined with his previous workload, the toll was visible. He had been charging forward repeatedly to defend against bunts. His straight back was now slightly hunched. Sweat poured down his face without pause.

Everyone could see it.

It was only a matter of time before he completely gave out.

Some Osaka Kiryuu supporters even wondered why Seido had not replaced him yet.

Was there truly no one in Seido’s dugout capable of relieving him?

If that were the case, then Seido’s depth was shallow indeed.

Inside Osaka Kiryuu’s dugout, players discussed it quietly.

“Has Seido’s Director gone mad? Even putting Tanba on the mound would be better than this.”

In their eyes, even an average pitcher in decent condition would be preferable to a clearly exhausted Ace.

“What do you know?” Matsumoto Takahiro said calmly, his smile returning.

He had already guessed Kataoka’s reasoning.

It was likely about fulfilling Hidezawa’s resolve while simultaneously tempering Tanba for the future.

Killing two birds with one stone.

If the game was already slipping away, perhaps Kataoka chose long-term growth over short-term rescue. That was his style.

Seido had missed Koshien for several years in the past, yet they continually produced strong players who later thrived professionally. That was no coincidence.

Perhaps those who trained under Kataoka were unlucky in terms of immediate glory but fortunate in terms of personal growth.

Every person in the stadium carried a different interpretation.

Meanwhile, the intensity of the atmosphere began to cool.

Although Osaka Kiryuu was still attacking, and although the score stood at 10 to 7, many spectators had already lost suspense. More than half of them believed they had witnessed the decisive moment of the game.

Seido’s run seemed to be ending here.

They had stormed through Koshien like a whirlwind, forcing everyone to remember their name.

But the result appeared cruel.

Then Araki swung.

“Ping!”

The sound was sharp and explosive.

The ball rocketed off the bat, slicing through the infield air with frightening speed. It carried the trajectory of something that could change the game entirely.

If this ball cleared the field, Osaka Kiryuu would score one or two more runs. If that happened, Seido’s already fragile hope would likely shatter completely.

But at that very instant, Zhang Han leaped.

His slender body stretched to its limit. His glove extended above his head with perfect timing. For a split second, he seemed suspended in midair.

“Pop!”

The ball slammed into his glove with tremendous force.

The impact was so powerful that he could not secure it cleanly. The baseball threatened to burst free.

Yet in that fraction of a second, Zhang Han’s peripheral vision caught a familiar figure.

Hidezawa.

Instead of fighting the rebound, Zhang Han adjusted. He twisted his wrist slightly, angling the glove to redirect the force.

The ball bounced off the leather like it had struck a wall prepared in advance.

“Pop!”

It ricocheted downward toward the mound.

Hidezawa reacted instinctively.

Despite exhaustion, despite trembling legs and burning lungs, his body moved on reflex. He scooped up the ball immediately after it landed.

There was no hesitation.

He planted his foot and threw toward First Base.

“Pop!”

The runner on Third had already crossed home plate. But Araki was forced out at First before he could complete his advance.

“Out!”

Three outs.

Change of offense and defense.

After enduring a brutal inning, Seido High School Baseball Team had finally stopped the bleeding.

The scoreboard remained at 10 to 7.

The three-run gap still stood.

And though battered, Seido had not fallen yet.

************************************

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