“It went through!”

“Captain!!”

“So cool!”

“Tanaka!!”

The cheers finally reached him.

Tanaka’s hit was clean and sharp, slicing straight through the defense. For the first time since the inning began, his name echoed clearly from both the stands and the dugout. The sound wasn’t deafening, but it was real, and that alone was enough to lift the expressions of everyone watching.

Tanaka felt his chest loosen.

So they did see him.

So his effort wasn’t meaningless after all.

All those swings.

All those nights grinding alone after practice.

They hadn’t been in vain.

Unfortunately, that satisfaction lasted only a few seconds.

Almost immediately, the atmosphere in the stands shifted again. The cheers that had just begun to focus on him scattered, then converged into a single, unified call.

“Hidezawa!”

“Hidezawa!!”

Tanaka’s face twitched.

It was infuriating.

Being compared to others was always irritating, but this was especially hard to swallow. Hidezawa’s batting average in previous games clearly wasn’t higher than his. In fact, it wasn’t even close. Yet the moment that guy stepped up to the plate, the crowd treated it like a main event.

How could anyone not feel frustrated?

In Seido’s dugout, the teammates’ expressions were complicated.

This guy is way too popular…

Hidezawa hadn’t just gained confidence from the previous game. He had gained fame. Real fame. The kind that stuck in people’s minds.

Because of yesterday’s duel, many spectators remembered his name firmly, etched alongside the image of fastballs tearing through the strike zone.

Of course, among those who truly understood baseball, there was still a gap between Hidezawa and Kameshima.

How big was that gap? Hard to quantify, but it undeniably existed.

Kameshima had one thing Hidezawa still lacked: a truly decisive pitch. Something that could end an at-bat instantly, no matter the situation.

Hidezawa had something similar, but compared to Kameshima’s, it barely qualified. Calling it a finished weapon would be generous. At best, it was still a prototype.

But amateurs didn’t see that. They only saw results.

Yesterday, the two had battled evenly. And when the dust settled, it was Hidezawa who walked away with the win. So if someone had to be chosen, fans naturally picked the victor.

Among ordinary spectators, a new saying had quietly begun to spread. Hidezawa had replaced Kameshima as West Tokyo’s top pitcher. Whether that title truly held water was another matter entirely.

But first place was first place. And for that name alone, countless supporters gathered around him. People liked Hidezawa. They believed in him. They were optimistic about his future. There was also one more thing no one bothered to hide.

His looks.

Compared to Kameshima’s rounder build, Hidezawa was slimmer, sharper, and several times more handsome. When performance was similar, people naturally leaned toward the one who looked better.

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That was reality. As a result, Hidezawa’s popularity skyrocketed in a very short time.

Unfortunately, popularity didn’t improve batting skill.

Amid the roaring cheers, Hidezawa swung and missed his first pitch. On his second attempt, he sent a weak grounder into the infield.

The ball was fielded cleanly and thrown to first.

Out.

Tanaka had already taken off the moment the bat made contact, sprinting without hesitation. That decision saved him. Had he been even a fraction slower, Inashiro would have turned it into a double play.

“Haha. Pretty boys really aren’t reliable.”

Azuma Kiyokuni’s voice carried a mocking tone, loud enough for nearby teammates to hear.

He didn’t share any of the pressure weighing on the others. To him, this was just another chance to run his mouth. That was probably his own twisted way of showing closeness.

Unfortunately, his way of expressing it was unbearable for most people.

Zhang Han, in particular, found it difficult to accept. Azuma-senpai loved teasing him. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with hands. Too close. Too casual.

Everyone around them said Azuma thought highly of him. Zhang Han didn’t feel that way at all. Honestly, he hated that kind of affection.

But there was nothing he could do. He was a junior. Whether he liked it or not, endurance was his only option.

Still, Watching Azuma-senpai tease someone else instead of him wasn’t so bad.

In fact, it felt pretty good. Zhang Han watched closely, curious to see how Hidezawa would react. Unexpectedly, Hidezawa didn’t react at all.

He walked straight past Azuma Kiyokuni as if no one were standing there. No glance. No comment. No acknowledgment.

Azuma froze.

For a few seconds, he stood there awkwardly, looking like someone who had just thrown a punch at empty air. Then, suddenly, he burst out laughing.

“This method is really good!”

Zhang Han’s eyes lit up. So you could do that? He was tempted to learn.

But when he thought about the age difference, he sighed inwardly. Hidezawa and Azuma were in the same grade. They could ignore each other freely.

He was a junior. If he tried that, it would probably be called disrespect.

How sad.

Zhang Han silently vowed that if he ever had juniors of his own, he would treat them kindly. He would cherish them. He would never become one of those unscrupulous seniors who took pleasure in bullying their underclassmen.

At that moment, he had no idea how infuriating his future juniors would be. If he had known, he would never have made such a promise. Facing juniors that annoying, it would already be merciful not to imitate Azuma Kiyokuni.

The game continued.

One out.

Runner on second base.

Now it was Yamada’s turn, the third batter.

Yamada showed his small canine teeth as he stared toward the mound, his expression fierce enough to make it seem like he might charge forward at any moment.

But when it came to actual batting, he was cautious. Very cautious. He watched pitch after pitch, carefully picking and choosing, refusing to swing recklessly.

Finally, he committed.

A fastball.

The bat swung, and the ball flew high into the air. The moment Seido’s teammates saw it, their hearts sank.

A fly ball.

Relatively speaking, it was the easiest kind of hit to handle. The ball rose high and descended slowly, giving the defense plenty of time to position themselves.

The outfielder moved calmly.

“Thwack!”

Two outs.

The runner remained on second.

Inashiro’s pitcher and catcher were steady. Even after allowing a runner on base, they used their experience to collect two outs without panic. From their perspective, the situation was still under control.

All they had to do now was stop the next batter.

Fourth batter. Third baseman.

Azuma Kiyokuni.

The moment he stepped into the batter’s box, the atmosphere changed. The field felt different.

For Seido’s supporters, it was like a festival had begun. Excitement surged, spreading rapidly through the stands. People leaned forward, breath held, as if already preparing to celebrate.

Under these circumstances, how could Inashiro accept it calmly? Everyone grew up eating the same rice. So why was this guy so outstanding?

They were extremely familiar with Azuma Kiyokuni. His habits. His strengths. His weaknesses. Nothing about him was unknown.

A head-on confrontation carried risk. But the reward for defeating Azuma was enormous.

After brief communication, the pitcher and catcher reached the same conclusion. This opportunity couldn’t be missed. They chose to challenge him directly.

“Strike!”

“Ping!”

“Foul!”

The opening exchanges went in Inashiro’s favor. Two strikes came quickly, tightening the noose. They were only one pitch away from shutting him down.

Adrenaline surged.

Then everything collapsed.

“Boom!”

“Ping!”

The crack of the bat sounded like an explosion.

The ball shot forward like a fired cannonball, tearing through the air with terrifying speed. It crossed the field in an instant and slammed violently into the fence.

If not for that barrier, no one could say where it would have landed.

“It went through!”

The runner on second base sprinted home.

The stadium erupted.

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

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