“You two must have played against each other quite often in middle school, right?” A player casually tossed the question toward the back of the room. “Narumiya, what do you think?”

All eyes shifted at once.

At the very back of the group stood a handsome young man. His face was delicate, almost doll-like, as if it had been carved from pink jade. At first glance, he looked less like a high school student and more like a middle schooler who had wandered into the wrong place.

He had been standing there quietly the entire time, absentmindedly listening to everyone analyze Seido’s intelligence—analysis that, to him, had already been repeated countless times. He hadn’t expected to be dragged into the discussion so suddenly.

He froze for a brief moment, then quickly regained his composure.

“Senior,” he asked frankly, “who were you just asking?”

The words were direct and unembellished. He didn’t bother hiding the fact that he had been distracted—he simply admitted it outright.

Coach Kunimoto immediately shot him a cold, piercing glare.

The young man seemed not to notice at all and straightened up, returning to a proper posture as if nothing had happened.

Now that the one who made the mistake was so open about it, the others found themselves momentarily at a loss for words.

“The senior is asking for your opinion on Zhang Han,” someone finally explained.

Sitting beside the young man was someone whose appearance stood in stark contrast to him.

While Narumiya looked youthful and refined, the person next to him had a face that appeared far more mature—almost like that of a middle-aged man. His physique was terrifyingly robust, his muscles packed so densely that even sitting still, he exuded an oppressive presence.

Just standing beside him was enough to place tremendous psychological pressure on others.

This man was Harada Masakatsu.

His name carried weight comparable to Omae and Yuuki Tetsuya. When he had first entered high school, evaluations of him were no worse than those of Omae from Ichidai Third High School.

However, after the team was reorganized this year, Harada still failed to secure a First-string uniform number. Compared to the other two equally renowned players, he was clearly a step behind.

That was why his evaluation had dropped.

Even so, no one ever questioned his strength.

From his occasional appearances in games, it was clear that his progress was no worse than that of players from the other two powerhouse schools. His misfortune lay elsewhere.

Who could have predicted that the team’s catcher and pitcher had already been working together for years, their chemistry so perfect that when paired, they produced an effect where one plus one was greater than two?

With that duo firmly established, Harada could only accept a substitute role and quietly wait for his opportunity.

The young man being questioned was named Narumiya Mei.

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A pitcher who had been promoted to Inashiro’s First-string this very year, he displayed unparalleled talent the moment he joined the team. His presence was no weaker than that of his senior, Nishimonji—some would even say it surpassed him.

Although Narumiya hadn’t yet earned the number one jersey, many players privately regarded him as the team’s true Ace.

Such a player was naturally far from unknown.

Since middle school, Narumiya Mei had been renowned as Kanto’s top left-handed pitcher. He had participated in both Kanto-level tournaments and national competitions, producing impressive results in each.

Tokyo fans affectionately dubbed him the “Tokyo Prince.”

To be named after the entire city of Tokyo was no small honor. It was a clear sign of how much fans adored him—and he had lived up to every expectation.

When his generation graduated from middle school, the most sought-after player was Narumiya Mei without question.

Not only did every major powerhouse in Tokyo extend invitations to him, but even schools from other regions—famous Koshien contenders—tried desperately to recruit him.

In the end, Narumiya chose Inashiro.

And it wasn’t just him. He also rallied several other exceptionally talented players to join Inashiro alongside him.

That story belonged to another time.

For now, what mattered was the present.

Despite being only a first-year, Narumiya Mei already held significant influence within the team.

Baseball was a sport that valued competition above all else. Age mattered—but strength mattered more.

Although Narumiya was the youngest, his ability placed him firmly at the top.

Much like Zhang Han at Seido, very few people treated Narumiya Mei as an ordinary junior.

Even so, this was the first time his opinion had been directly sought during a formal meeting.

Under normal circumstances, Narumiya would have talked endlessly. As a fifteen-year-old, he still enjoyed showing off from time to time.

But when the topic turned to Zhang Han, Narumiya fell uncharacteristically silent.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know him.

It was that he didn’t know how to describe him.

“Matsukata and your team were sworn enemies, weren’t they?” someone asked.

In Tokyo, there were quite a few famous youth baseball teams.

Naturally, the relationships between these teams were rarely friendly.

They competed year after year for limited tournament spots. Beyond that, they competed for players.

One was a battle for honor.

The other was a battle for money.

Neither was easy to give up.

Among all these rivalries, the most intense—and most talked about—over the past two years was the confrontation between Matsukata and Narumiya Mei’s team.

The two teams had completely different identities.

One was built around an overwhelmingly powerful batting lineup, widely regarded as the strongest in all of Tokyo.

The other revolved around a dominant pitcher.

One emphasized offense.

The other, pitching.

“We played each other quite a lot,” Narumiya finally said. “Almost since first grade, actually. I’ve been facing him for years.”

There was a faint sense of world-weariness in his tone.

The words themselves were serious.

But when paired with his youthful face, they were oddly hard to believe.

“At that time, he had just started playing baseball. He was rough—like a complete beginner. I even wondered why Supervisor Ono Binzhi would bother cultivating someone like him.”

Narumiya paused briefly, as if recalling the scenes.

“We played three times back then. He couldn’t get a single hit off me.”

That statement made it difficult for the Inashiro players to accept.

After watching the footage, they had assumed Zhang Han must have been a prodigy from the start—some well-known star in Tokyo’s youth baseball circle.

They never expected him to have such a history.

“But that kid is naturally petty,” Narumiya added with a grin. “After losing to me, he became obsessed with revenge.”

At that moment, Narumiya Mei smiled openly.

It was as if he had returned to those days—standing on the mound, facing Zhang Han across the plate.

“So what happened?” someone pressed.

“The result?” Narumiya chuckled. “Of course I won. In our second year, we played three games. He was already his team’s absolute First-string hitter and played full games every time—but he only managed one hit off me.”

Narumiya’s expression grew increasingly animated.

“To be fair, his strength was already pretty good back then. He got plenty of hits against other teams.”

He continued without pause.

“In our third year, we played two games and faced each other eight times. That guy got three hits and two RBIs off me.”

Narumiya lifted his chin slightly.

“But overall,” he said smugly, “I was still superior.”

The room was quiet for a moment.

Then someone asked calmly, “If that’s the case… then why did you lose to Matsukata in the final game?”

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