"Unprecedented—never to be repeated!!!"
"Congratulations to Zhou Hao for setting a brand-new strikeout record!"
"Fifteen consecutive strikeouts—something never seen before!"
"It takes extraordinary pitching skill to achieve this—"
The commentator was clearly well-prepared.
The moment the top of the fifth inning ended, he launched into an impassioned explanation, his voice rising with excitement.
At first, many fans in the stands didn't fully grasp what had happened.
But as his words sank in—
Realization dawned.
"As expected of Zhou Hao… he's truly unstoppable on the field."
For Seido's supporters, their trust in Zhou Hao had already reached the level of blind faith.
To them, this result felt only natural.
If Zhou Hao couldn't accomplish something like this—
Then who in the world could?
It was a simple belief.
One they never questioned.
And they didn't care what anyone else thought.
They only believed in Zhou Hao.
And once again—
He proved them right.
Fifteen consecutive strikeouts.
Earlier, when it was happening, many fans hadn't even processed its significance.
After all, their Ace had always been capable of such dominance.
He simply hadn't displayed it so openly before.
But now that he had—
The result spoke for itself.
Fifteen strikeouts.
What could be more exhilarating?
"Zhou Hao! Zhou Hao!!!"
The entire stadium turned into a roaring sea of voices.
Fans shouted his name at the top of their lungs, desperate to etch this moment into memory.
Meanwhile, the reporters in the stands were practically trembling with excitement.
"Perfect… this writes itself."
Seido was already one of the most talked-about teams, yet ironically, there was little "new" to report.
Everything about them was already widely known.
And the things that weren't?
Almost impossible to uncover.
But now—
That problem vanished.
Everyone knew exactly what the headline would be.
No angle, no creative spin—
Could outshine this.
A historic record.
Fifteen consecutive strikeouts.
Against a formidable opponent in the Kanto Tournament, Zhou Hao had delivered a jaw-dropping performance.
From this moment on—
His title as the number one player in the country was beyond dispute.
If anyone dared to question it…
They only needed to do one thing.
Surpass his record.
If they couldn't—
Then they had no right to speak.
On the mound, Zhou Hao stood quietly.
But every pitch he threw…
Was the truth itself.
At this moment, the entire stadium was captivated by his performance.
Hakuba Academy's players were shaken.
Before, they had clung to a single hope—
Wait for Seido to switch pitchers.
That would be their chance.
Their only chance.
But now…
Doubt crept in.
Would that opportunity ever come?
Even Hakuba's coach was visibly anxious.
He understood the situation far better than his players.
"He's not easing up at all… not giving us a single opening."
Even if Hakuba's batting lineup had flaws—
Even if Seido's substitute pitchers could handle them easily—
Seido had no intention of making a change.
Zhou Hao remained on the mound.
The fifth inning had already ended.
And still, no substitution.
And in the sixth?
It would likely be the same.
The thought made the Hakuba coach's head throb.
Their Ace, Kazama, was undoubtedly exceptional.
Otherwise, he wouldn't have been selected as a pitcher for the National Youth Team.
For position players, selection often considered chemistry and familiarity.
Teammates from the same school were sometimes chosen for synergy.
But pitchers?
That was different.
They were selected from the entire pool—
The absolute best of the best.
Kazama's inclusion alone proved his ability.
But no matter how talented he was—
He was still human.
A high school pitcher.
His condition would fluctuate.
As the game dragged on, Seido's batters would gradually adapt to his pitches.
Meanwhile, his stamina would decline.
Control would waver.
Velocity might drop.
And once that happened—
It would only take a single opening.
For Seido to break the game wide open.
Bottom of the fifth inning.
Hakuba Academy's Ace stepped onto the mound once more.
He could feel it—
The pressure.
The sharp, predatory gazes of Seido's batters waiting to come up.
They wanted to score.
They needed to score.
This prolonged stalemate had pushed them to their limit.
They were done waiting.
They were going to force a change.
Kazama smirked slightly.
"Not happening."
He settled into position and fired his first pitch.
His opponent—
Miyuki Kazuya.
A well-known batter.
But also one with a notable flaw.
With no runners on base, his batting efficiency dropped significantly.
And this time—
Was no different.
Kazama didn't throw anything tricky.
Just a straightforward duel.
The ball came in.
No matter what he was thinking—
Miyuki had to swing.
Ping!
The ball shot high into the air—
Then dropped.
Waiting below, Hakuba's fielders were already in position.
Pa!
"Out!"
One out. Bases empty.
As Miyuki walked off the field, he cast a long, thoughtful glance at the mound.
Then, slowly—
He smirked.
"Kazama…"
This nationally renowned National Youth Team substitute had clearly done his homework.
Kazama knew Miyuki's tendencies inside and out—what he liked to do, in which situations, and how he approached each at-bat.
He had built his entire pitching strategy around that knowledge.
Without that level of preparation, there was no way he could have kept Seido under control for this long.
"So the only one he can't find a weakness in… is Zhou Hao?"
That, in itself, wasn't surprising.
Even as his catcher and partner, Miyuki Kazuya had never been able to pinpoint Zhou Hao's flaws.
What kind of pitch was there that Zhou Hao couldn't handle?
If even Miyuki didn't know—
How could anyone else?
But what truly unsettled Miyuki…
Was Kazama's decisiveness.
Feeling inferior to Zhou Hao wasn't unusual.
Almost every team that had faced Seido had experienced that same pressure.
But even so, they still chose to challenge him head-on.
Why?
Because the logic was simple.
If they won—they'd become famous nationwide.
If they lost—it wasn't shameful.
After all, they wouldn't be the only ones.
It was this very mindset—high reward, no real risk—that led them to ruin.
Because against Zhou Hao…
"Keeping it close" wasn't an option.
More often than not, he didn't just get hits—
He crushed the ball clean out of the park.
By the time opponents realized their mistake—
It was already too late.
All they could do was accept defeat.
But Kazama was different.
He had no intention of confronting Zhou Hao directly.
If he knew a pitch would be hit—
Then he simply wouldn't throw it.
Walk him.
Every single time.
It was a cold, efficient strategy.
By doing so, he not only suppressed Zhou Hao's offensive impact—
He also sent a message to the rest of Seido.
Don't rely on one player to turn the game around.
If you want to win—
Do it yourselves.
Kazama didn't care about pride.
Didn't care about appearances.
Didn't care about what others thought.
All he cared about—
Was effectiveness.
And against Seido, this method worked.
By the end of the fifth inning—
The scoreboard still read:
0–0.
Seido's players and supporters were frustrated.
But deep down, they understood.
Frustration changed nothing.
Their opponent was simply that strong.
Seido had crushed countless national powerhouses before, often in overwhelming fashion.
But none of those teams had a pitcher like Kazama.
If they had—
Those victories might not have come so easily.
That was why people said:
The pitcher is the soul of a team.
And in many ways—
It was absolutely true.
A single Ace could determine everything.
Top of the sixth inning.
Hakuba Academy returned to offense.
At this point, the atmosphere in the stands reached its peak.
Zhou Hao had already struck out fifteen consecutive batters.
If he continued—
Today's game would become legendary.
A once-in-a-generation performance.
For the reporters and fans, this was a dream.
But for Hakuba Academy…
It was a nightmare.
They understood it clearly.
This game would be remembered.
And they—
Would be reduced to background figures.
Punchlines in someone else's story.
"Are those the guys who couldn't even touch the ball?"
"Zhou Hao struck them out like they were practice dummies."
"If that's all it takes, I could do it too."
It wasn't just a few people thinking this.
It was many.
Everyone believed that if they stood in that batter's box—
They could do better.
At the very least…
They wouldn't look that helpless.
"No matter what… I have to make contact!"
Hakuba's seventh batter clenched his teeth as he stepped up.
That was his only goal.
Then—
Zhou Hao released the pitch.
For a split second, the batter froze.
The speed…
Felt manageable.
Did Zhou Hao make a mistake?
The thought barely crossed his mind before he discarded it.
It didn't matter.
The pitch was in his range.
And he wasn't going to let this chance slip away.
He swung.
Ping!
The sound of contact rang out—
And the batter almost cried.
He hit it!
He actually hit it!
From this moment on—
Hakuba Academy would no longer be a joke.
The ball soared into the air…
Then dropped cleanly into the glove of Seido's second baseman.
Pa!
"Out!"
Despite the out, a wave of regretful sighs swept through the stands.
"What a shame…"
As for what they were regretting—
No one could say for sure.
Perhaps…
It was the end of Zhou Hao's perfect streak.
Meanwhile, Hakuba's seventh batter returned to the dugout—
Beaming with pride.
Like a general returning from victory.
His teammates applauded.
Encouraged him.
Celebrated him.
On the other side—
Seido's players and supporters looked at them like they were fools.
Did they really not understand?
Zhou Hao had done that on purpose.
The game had already reached the sixth inning.
There was no way he could continue power pitching forever.
His stamina had limits.
So he adjusted.
Lowered the speed.
Controlled the placement.
Invited contact.
All for one purpose—
To finish the at-bat in a single pitch.
And yet—
Hakuba Academy thought they had achieved something.
They didn't realize…
They were being completely played.