It was Miyuki’s turn to bat.

At this point, the players from Ichidai Third High School no longer dared to underestimate the first-year students of Seido High School Baseball Team. Any lingering contempt had already been beaten out of them by consecutive hits.

On the mound, Kameshima exhaled slowly. Then he put everything he had into the pitch.

“Whoosh!”

The small white baseball shot forward like a sharp arrow, crossing more than ten meters in an instant before appearing directly above home plate.

Fast.

Fierce.

Accurate.

Kameshima demonstrated the meaning of those three words to the extreme.

Even if this pitch had not reached the absolute peak of his condition, it was still far above average, even among elite pitchers. This was a ball thrown with full focus, full strength, and full confidence.

And because of that, Miyuki caught it perfectly.

“When he gets anxious, it’s always an inside fastball.”

At first, Miyuki hadn’t been completely sure. But the moment Zhang Han got that hit, a sudden clarity surged through his mind. Everyone else thought Kameshima’s previous fastball was a mistake.

A slip.

A moment of carelessness that Zhang Han seized upon.

But Miyuki thought differently.

What if it wasn’t a mistake at all? What if Kameshima had deliberately chosen that pitch?

The moment that idea formed, countless previously confusing details suddenly aligned. The picture became clear.

This Kameshima, who looked flawless on the surface and far more skilled than Hidezawa, actually shared a weakness just as dangerous.

He was stubborn. Extremely stubborn.

And he had a deeply ingrained habit. Whenever he encountered a difficult situation, instead of choosing complex strategies, he relied on the pitch he trusted most.

The inside fastball.

“Ping!”

The bat struck the ball cleanly.

In that instant, a terrifying rebound force surged through Miyuki’s palms. The shock nearly sent the bat flying from his hands.

As expected of a power pitcher.

Kameshima’s physique wasn’t just for show. The balls he threw were unbelievably heavy, each one packed with brutal force.

Half a year ago, Miyuki might not have been able to handle it.

But half a year changes people.

Since joining Seido, Miyuki hadn’t been slacking off even once. Three full bowls of rice at every meal, followed by relentless training. He had managed to maintain his physique while steadily increasing his strength.

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Anyone could imagine how hard he had worked.

Now, when prepared, when he knew the direction and timing, Miyuki could hit even Kameshima’s fastball.

The baseball soared over first baseman Hoshida’s head and dropped deep into the outfield.

A clean hit.

And not just any hit.

A long hit.

Zhang Han, who had been waiting on second base, reacted instantly. He sprinted forward without hesitation, rounding third base and charging home.

Another run scored.

“It’s another hit by a first-year newcomer!”

The announcer’s voice rang with disbelief.

“This time it’s Miyuki Kazuya! A beautiful long hit to second base, sending the runner from second all the way home!”

The scoreboard changed again.

2:1.

In the bottom of the second inning, less than ten minutes after conceding the first run, Seido High School Baseball Team had not only tied the game but completely reversed it.

Before this inning began, many neutral spectators had already leaned toward Ichidai San. They believed Seido had improved, but the gap between the pitchers was simply too great.

In their eyes, Ichidai Third High School still held the advantage. Now, that belief was crushed. The Seido players had swept it straight into the dustbin of history.

They proved something important.

Their batting lineup was reliable.

If Ichidai San could score one run, then Seido could score two. Baseball was never decided by pitchers alone. In the end, the team that scored more runs would always win.

With the score at 2:1, Kameshima finally secured the third out.

Three outs.

Sides exchanged.

Seido’s offensive inning ended, leaving one runner stranded on second base.

Both teams returned to their respective dugouts.

The moment Ichidai San’s players sat down, they surrounded Kameshima without hesitation. They didn’t even bother discussing the score. The question they had been holding back burst out immediately.

“Zhang Han isn’t good at hitting changeups, right?”

“Then why did you throw a fastball?”

Their confusion was obvious.

If it had been the third or fourth pitch, it would have made sense. Without fastballs, changeups lose much of their effectiveness.

But that had been the very first pitch.

That was what they couldn’t understand.

And it wasn’t just them.

Kameshima himself was equally bewildered.

He didn’t know what had possessed him at that moment. His mind had acted on instinct alone. If there was anyone who truly understood what had happened, it was probably Zhang Han himself.

Meanwhile, in the Seido dugout, the atmosphere was no less lively.

Zhang Han was immediately surrounded.

Players crowded around him, firing questions nonstop. Even Manager Ota and Coach Kataoka leaned forward slightly, listening closely.

They were curious too.

What exactly had happened at that moment?

“I honestly didn’t expect him to throw that kind of fastball,” Zhang Han said calmly. “My thought was simple. As long as he didn’t throw a gyroball, I was fine.”

He paused briefly.

“I really can’t hit his gyroball. Everything else, I can deal with.”

Silence followed.

That statement was infuriating. This was Kameshima.

A pitcher who had already gained nationwide fame even before developing his gyroball. One of the top pitchers in all of Tokyo.

And Zhang Han spoke as if handling him was only a matter of pitch selection.

“You acted like an idiot at the plate,” someone asked incredulously. “How did you know he wouldn’t throw a gyroball?”

Zhang Han smiled faintly.

“It’s simple. Think of it like rock-paper-scissors.”

“Before you play, if someone gives you a really difficult problem, your chance of choosing ‘scissors’ next increases a lot.”

He continued, voice steady.

“For Kameshima, if I did something unexpected, his instinct would be to end it with his most familiar weapon. The gyroball is his strongest pitch, but it’s new. It’s not the one he throws most often, and it’s not the one he’s most comfortable with.”

“When his mind wavered, there was at least a ninety percent chance he wouldn’t throw it.”

Someone swallowed.

“And what if he did?”

Zhang Han shrugged.

“Then I wouldn’t swing at all. I’d keep acting stupid in my next at-bat.”

His eyes were calm.

“As long as you swing the pickaxe well, no corner can’t be dug out. I’d wait until the opportunity came.”

Too ruthless.

The teammates stared at him, their hearts trembling. They suddenly realized how shallow their previous understanding of Zhang Han had been. There was a reason this guy had caught up to and surpassed so many regular starters in just a few months.

He wasn’t just talented. He was merciless.

Even Miyuki felt a chill.

So his own judgment had been wrong.

The inside fastball wasn’t Kameshima’s habit. He used it against Miyuki because it had already been hit once. Kameshima probably believed Miyuki wouldn’t expect the same pitch again.

Those two from Ichidai San had tried to outsmart him. Instead, they trapped themselves.

Miyuki glanced toward the Ichidai dugout with sympathy.

They weren’t weak.

They were just unlucky.

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

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