With two strikes and no balls, Mishima Yuta was now only one strike away from being retired.
At this point, Ono Shintaro and Ito had plenty of room to work with.
"Shintaro, even though the count favors us, don't let your guard down," Ito warned cautiously.
"The batter has already adjusted to your rhythm. Throw the next pitch here."
Shintaro nodded slightly before delivering the third pitch.
"SWOOSH!"
The baseball skimmed low toward the outside corner, barely clipping the edge of the strike zone.
"I don't care what kind of pitch it is—I'll crush it with one swing!"
Mishima roared as he stepped aggressively toward the front of the batter's box, unleashing a full-power swing before the ball could fully break.
Clang!
The baseball continued breaking sharply toward the outside corner, but before the movement could finish, Mishima's bat caught it.
The ball soared high down the first-base line.
Unfortunately—
It tailed foul.
Mishima stopped halfway out of the batter's box and clicked his tongue in frustration before turning back.
Then suddenly—
His pupils shrank.
His eyes locked onto right field in disbelief.
A white figure was sprinting at full speed toward the foul territory near the stands.
Long legs pumping furiously, the player crossed the foul line without hesitation.
The wall separating the field from the right-field stands loomed directly ahead of him—
Yet he never slowed down.
His eyes remained fixed entirely on the descending baseball.
His left glove stretched open.
Waiting.
Ready.
Smack!
The baseball disappeared into the glove just before crashing into the wall.
And then—
BOOM!!!
Unable to stop his momentum, the player slammed violently into the wall before bouncing backward and crashing heavily onto the dirt.
The impact looked horrifying.
Yet despite collapsing to the ground, his left arm remained raised high in the air.
Inside the glove—
The white baseball gleamed brilliantly beneath the stadium lights.
"OUT! THREE OUTS! CHANGE SIDES!"
"ROOOOAR!!!"
The moment the umpire made the call, the player suddenly flipped himself upright and let out a savage roar.
The calm expression he usually carried was completely gone.
In its place was a ferocious, almost crazed look.
He pounded his chest repeatedly with his right fist.
"The victory belongs to Hakuryu High School!"
"Don't even think about taking it from us!"
Drip.
Drip.
Fresh blood trickled down from his forehead, sliding across his face before falling onto the black soil of Koshien Stadium.
"Senior Tanaka!"
"Tanaka!"
"Get the doctor!"
Hakuryu's players had initially rushed forward to celebrate the incredible catch.
But the moment they saw Tanaka's blood-covered face, their expressions changed instantly.
Excitement turned into panic.
Their footsteps quickened with worry and anxiety.
Aside from Kitamura Kou and Todoroki Raizo, every member of Yakushi High School stood frozen in shock.
"...Is this Koshien?"
"...Is this what baseball really is?"
Although Todoroki Raichi possessed monstrous batting talent, he was still fundamentally a rookie.
He couldn't understand it.
Why risk your body just to catch a foul ball?
Even if it dropped, it wouldn't have changed the outcome immediately.
Yet the image of Tanaka—
Covered in blood.
Roaring toward the heavens with madness in his eyes—
Burned itself deeply into Raichi's memory.
Impossible to forget.
Yakushi High School had advanced smoothly until now.
Even when facing setbacks, they always managed to overcome them through Kitamura Kou's overwhelming strength.
Certainly, powerhouse teams like Seido High School, Ichidaisan High School, Inashiro Industrial, and Seihou High School had all been strong opponents.
Their players had shown tremendous persistence on the field.
But this was the first time Yakushi's players had truly witnessed the cruel side of baseball so directly.
Todoroki Raizo could teach techniques through brutal practice.
He could train swings.
Fielding.
Pitching.
But mentality?
That could only be forged through real games.
Through pressure.
Through pain.
Through moments like this.
The obsession with victory—
That was the true difference between Yakushi High School and genuine national powerhouse teams.
Despite their success, Yakushi was still only a pseudo-powerhouse.
Their determination still fell short of championship level.
Without Kitamura Kou, they likely would not have even defeated Seido High School—
let alone reached Koshien.
It was Kou alone who had dragged Yakushi onto a stage far beyond their original level.
But baseball was never a one-man sport.
No matter how strong Kou was, he was still only one player among nine.
However—
This was also an opportunity.
If Yakushi could overcome this wall…
If they could truly learn something from this game…
Then they would finally take their first real step toward becoming a true powerhouse.
In the end, Tanaka could no longer continue and was taken away for medical treatment.
Before leaving, he tightly grabbed the hand of Igarashi, the player replacing him.
"Igarashi…"
"The rest is up to you."
"You must protect our lead no matter what."
"I'll be waiting for the news of our victory from the hospital."
Only after being urged repeatedly by the coach did Tanaka finally leave the field unwillingly.
Hakuryu High School's players were deeply shaken by the scene.
And within their eyes—
A dangerous intensity began to emerge.
Now, they were no longer fighting solely for victory.
They were fighting for Tanaka.
For the blood he shed on this field.
No matter the cost—
They would win this game.
"Top of the fourth inning! Hakuryu High School coming up to bat!"
"The fifth batter, first baseman Kitaoji!"
Kitaoji stepped into the batter's box.
His already cold expression grew even icier.
An oppressive aura radiated from his body.
He crowded the plate aggressively, compressing Sanada Shunpei's inside pitching space to the absolute limit.
Even someone as mentally tough as Sanada felt his throat tighten.
"...This was already hard enough," Sanada muttered bitterly.
"And now it's become even worse."
"SWOOSH!"
The baseball screamed toward Kitaoji's chest.
Yet Kitaoji didn't even blink.
He calmly watched the ball brush past his uniform before landing inside Watanabe Tatsuya's mitt.
Smack!
"Nice pitch!"
Sanada quietly exhaled in relief.
If that pitch had missed by even a few centimeters, it would have drilled directly into Kitaoji's body.
And the terrifying part?
The batter had shown absolutely no intention of dodging.
Sanada's control wasn't nearly as precise as Kitamura Kou's.
He couldn't place every pitch perfectly.
At this rate, hitting someone felt inevitable.
A hit-by-pitch and an intentional brushback might produce the same result on paper—
But psychologically, they were completely different.
After all, Sanada wasn't some heartless monster.
If he hit someone, guilt would naturally follow.
Especially now—
After seeing the opposing team shed blood on the field.
The pressure only became heavier.
But at the same time…
He still wanted to win.
So could he really afford to back down now?