The game began with three outs.

Just like that, Seido High School’s opening offense was shut down cleanly, without resistance. Three batters stepped up. Three batters walked back to the dugout. The inning ended so quickly that many people in the stands had not even settled into their seats.

For Nioh Gakusha, a team that very few had favored before the match, it was nothing short of a perfect start.

For everyone else, it was shocking.

The less than one thousand supporters wearing Nioh colors erupted all at once. Their cheers burst out with no restraint, like a dam breaking under sudden pressure. Some of them screamed until their faces turned red. Others jumped from their seats, waving towels, hats, and anything else they could grab.

Before the game, they had dreamed. Every fan does.

They imagined how the opening might go. They imagined a tense pitcher’s duel, or maybe a lucky hit, or a narrow lead. They imagined hope, but always with a layer of caution.

Yet even the boldest dreamer among them had never imagined something like this.

Three outs. Clean and decisive.

So unbelievable that even they struggled to accept it.

And so they went completely wild.

They sang loudly, voices overlapping in chaotic harmony. They danced in the narrow aisles, bumping into one another without caring. Some waved banners so hard they nearly tore. Others leaned over the railings, shouting until their throats burned, as if volume alone could push the team closer to victory.

Their reaction was intense, almost excessive, as if they had already won the game.

On the other side, Seido High School’s reaction could not have been more different.

The Seido players returned to the dugout calmly. No one slammed helmets. No one cursed. No one looked panicked or frustrated. They drank water, adjusted their gloves, and exchanged a few quiet words.

It was as if being retired three up, three down had no impact on them at all.

As for Nioh Gakusha’s hopes of winning the game, to Seido’s players, there was no joke funnier than that.

Bottom of the first inning. Nioh Gakusha took the field on offense.

The stadium quieted slightly as Seido’s ace climbed the mound.

“Whoosh!”

The very first pitch thrown by Hidezawa shattered any lingering optimism Nioh Gakusha might have had.

The batter stood frozen in the box, eyes wide, bat still resting on his shoulder. The ball tore through the strike zone with terrifying speed, smacking into the catcher’s mitt with a sharp crack that echoed across the stadium.

The Nioh batter stared blankly toward the mound, as if he had just witnessed something beyond his understanding.

He looked at Seido’s pitcher, that tall, broad shouldered figure standing with absolute confidence.

The motion had been smooth, almost gentle, like flowing water. Yet the result was pure violence.

The aura surrounding Hidezawa was overwhelming, as if everything standing in front of him would be crushed without mercy.

Since when did Seido’s controversial ace possess such terrifying deterrent power?

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author’s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

That was the question echoing in the minds of Nioh Gakusha’s players.

Terrifying. That was the only word that fit.

That sense of destruction, of inevitability, gave people the feeling that resistance was pointless.

At least, that was how it felt to Nioh Gakusha at that moment.

“Strike!”

The umpire’s voice rang out.

The batter swallowed hard.

“Strike!!”

The second pitch was even faster. The batter flinched, swinging far too late.

“Strike!!!”

The third pitch snapped downward at the last moment, carving through the zone.

“Strikeout!”

The batter walked back to the dugout in a daze.

The second batter stepped up, clearly tense.

The result was no different.

“Strikeout!!”

The third batter fared no better.

“Strikeout!!!”

Three batters. Three strikeouts.

No contact. No resistance.

The entire stadium fell into stunned silence.

Then, as if on cue, the cheers from Seido High School’s supporters exploded outward, rolling through the stands like the roar of the sea.

It was deafening.

It was satisfying.

Unbelievably satisfying.

Was there any better response?

You want to compare pitchers?

Then we will compare pitchers.

And we will leave you completely lost.

In the press section, Fujio, a senior reporter from Baseball Kingdom Magazine, adjusted his glasses and quietly wrote in his notebook.

“The matches against Ichidai Third and Inashiro Industrial have completely transformed Hidezawa. In the past, he relied heavily on the team’s defense and batting to secure victories. Now, he can dominate with his pitching alone. This is the mark of a true ace. By comparison, Nioh Gakusha’s breakout pitcher Kawauchi, despite his talent and impressive results, still carries the characteristics of a dark horse.”

A dark horse was indeed impressive.

But very few dark horses could run all the way to the end.

Most only possessed one or two unusual strengths. When those strengths remained hidden, they could overwhelm opponents through surprise alone.

Once exposed, however, everything changed.

And judging by the opening exchange, Nioh Gakusha’s fate was likely heading in that direction.

In Nioh Gakusha’s dugout, fine beads of sweat formed on the director’s forehead.

Officially, the school had not issued him an ultimatum to win the championship. But after the team’s recent smooth sailing, his attitude toward the administration had grown increasingly arrogant.

The relationship between both sides had become strained.

Especially when it came to salary negotiations.

If he could lead the team to Koshien, everything would be resolved. No matter how unreasonable his demands, the school would be forced to comply.

But if they lost here, everything would change.

The administrators would certainly seize the opportunity to dismiss him.

Normally, that would not be a problem. With his experience, finding another job would be easy.

But being fired after a falling out, without outstanding results to his name, would be a very different story.

The thought made his stomach tighten.

“As expected of Seido,” the director murmured to himself. “Their strength is formidable. Still, we have not lost. As long as the game remains deadlocked and Kawauchi continues to get outs, we will have a chance.”

Top of the second inning. Seido High School returned to offense.

The first batter to step into the box was Seido’s fourth hitter, Azuma Kiyokuni.

The moment he appeared, pressure descended on the field.

He looked like a walking volcano, radiating power with every step. When he settled into his stance, his shadow nearly swallowed the crouching catcher whole.

The catcher swallowed hard.

Good grief. This guy’s presence was overwhelming.

His build was massive. His arms were thick. His breathing alone felt heavy enough to press down on the field.

The catcher’s heart raced uncontrollably.

Facing a batter like this was nerve wracking, but there was no way around it.

Avoiding the problem would not solve anything.

And Azuma was only the beginning.

Following him were Yuuki and Zhang Han.

Two more monsters.

In normal games, those two had already been nightmares. Even when facing Tokyo’s best pitchers, they never flinched.

Not against Kameshima.

Not against Narumiya Mei.

They had not just stood their ground. They had shined.

Their results spoke for themselves.

If Nioh Gakusha avoided Azuma, they would still face Yuuki and Zhang Han.

Walking all three was not an option either.

Seido’s lower order hitters were no pushovers. And facing the heart of Seido’s lineup with the bases loaded would be even more dangerous.

Before the game, Nioh Gakusha had debated endlessly.

In the end, they reached the same conclusion.

Intentional walks were not worth the risk.

They would face them head on.

Even with uneasy hearts, they had no choice but to bite the bullet.

“Haha. Hahahaha!”

Azuma laughed the moment he saw the catcher’s setup.

He understood immediately.

These guys still thought their pitching was mysterious. But after the first inning, that illusion was gone.

Kawauchi’s pitches were rare and difficult. That much was true. Ordinary batters would struggle badly against him.

That was how Nioh Gakusha had made it this far. But the players standing here were not ordinary.

They were Seido High School. They were the strongest batting lineup in the country. Just because others could not hit it did not mean they could not.

And Azuma was ready to prove it.

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