Seido smoothly advanced to the semifinals.
For the players of Seido High School Baseball Team, this should have been a perfectly normal result.
Even though their opponent was Ichidai Sanko—one of the three great powerhouses of West Tokyo and their long-time rival—the Seido players had never doubted the outcome.
They were confident they would win.
What no one had anticipated, however, was that the game would end early in just seven innings.
Their current strength had clearly surpassed anything they had shown before.
They no longer needed to feel inferior.
Nor did they need to worry about unnecessary doubts.
For example—
Was the current Seido weaker than the national champion Seido of last year?
This question had troubled many of them in the past.
After all, as the new generation officially took over the team, the responsibility of maintaining—and even surpassing—the team's overall strength naturally fell on their shoulders.
Were they truly qualified to inherit Seido's legacy?
Now, they finally had their answer.
They were not just qualified.
They were outstanding.
Unexpectedly, when they returned to school, they were greeted with a level of enthusiasm far greater than they had imagined.
"I heard you guys beat Ichidai Sanko?"
"Is it true the game ended in seven innings?"
"What a shame—I couldn't go that day. It must've been insane, right?"
As a nationally renowned powerhouse, Seido High School wasn't just famous among baseball fans.
Even the ordinary students paid close attention to the baseball team's performance.
The news that Seido had crushed Ichidai Sanko spread like wildfire throughout the campus.
The atmosphere was one of pure excitement.
The baseball players themselves were caught off guard.
They hadn't expected their classmates to react so passionately.
This kind of reception was second only to the celebration after they conquered the nation last year.
"It's just Ichidai Sanko… is this really necessary?"
The players couldn't help but feel a little puzzled.
They weren't mind readers, after all.
They couldn't fully understand why everyone was acting as if something earth-shattering had happened.
But praise was praise.
And praise coming from classmates you see every day felt especially good.
Naturally, they enjoyed it.
That pleasant feeling lasted until late at night.
The next morning, the media coverage appeared.
"Seido Defeats Ichidai Sanko in Seven Innings!"
"Zhou Hao's Super-Fast Spiral Ball Shocks West Tokyo!"
These headlines instantly became hot topics.
Online discussions exploded, and article after article followed.
The Seido players glanced at their phones after morning practice.
Their reactions were… calm.
If it were players from other schools, they would probably be so excited their hearts would leap out of their chests.
But Seido's players had seen this kind of scene too many times.
They were pleased, yes—but far from overwhelmed.
At most, they felt that the reporters had grown even bolder with their praise.
Fortunately, it was still within an acceptable range.
So no one complained.
Morning training proceeded as usual.
It wasn't until training ended that the team's leadership suddenly gave a new command.
"First-years—ball-handling training!"
The first-year players instantly lit up.
"Finally! We get to touch the ball!"
"If this keeps up, my hands are going to rust!"
"My skills are about to degrade!"
"So awesome!!!"
Led by Kanemaru, the entire first-year group surged forward with excitement.
Zhou Hao, upon hearing the order, quietly made up his mind.
He needed to make good use of this opportunity.
After all, there wasn't much time left before the freshman welcome game.
According to his memories, once the Spring Tournament ended, the coaches and managers would begin evaluating the new recruits.
After all, the freshmen varied greatly in ability.
To train them properly, they had to be divided into different groups.
Beyond the First String and Second Team, even the remaining players were categorized—
Some received focused development.
Others received general training.
Seido High School Baseball Team followed a system nearly identical to that of professional teams.
This alone was astonishing.
Why did Seido consistently send players to professional leagues?
And why did those players almost never fail after turning pro?
The reason was simple.
They received professional-level training while still in high school.
Under such conditions, it was only natural for them to outperform others.
Compared to other schools, Seido was always one step ahead.
Any team might occasionally produce a professional-level player.
But producing them year after year—and seeing those players succeed—was no coincidence.
It wasn't about recruiting super-geniuses.
Seido didn't have that luxury.
Instead, it was their system.
A system built through years of effort.
A system refined through countless failures and adjustments.
That was Seido's true foundation.
During breakfast, Zhou Hao received another piece of news.
A piece of news that completely disrupted his plans.
Coach Kataoka intended to hold a Freshman Welcome Game.
After the Spring Tournament—and after witnessing the team's current form—Coach Kataoka wanted to formally assess this year's new recruits.
And not just Zhou Hao.
All the Seido players who received this news wore expressions of disbelief.
"Why would the Coach do this?"
Unable to figure it out, everyone instinctively turned toward the few people considered the team's "brains."
Chris.
Miyuki Kazuya.
And Seido's ace—Zhou Hao.
Unlike many teams where players relied more on muscle than thought, Seido was filled with sharp minds.
But if anyone understood Coach Kataoka best, it was undoubtedly these three.
As prominent figures on the team, their popularity was naturally high.
Familiar teammates quickly gathered around them.
Most of the third-years went to Chris.
Some clustered around Miyuki.
Kuramochi, several others, and the two first-year monsters surrounded Zhou Hao.
Yet none of the three immediately gave an explanation.
Instead, they pulled everyone together.
Because it wasn't just the others who were confused.
They themselves were also bewildered.
They might have vague guesses—but guesses were not answers.
They wanted to confirm things with one another.
Soon, all twenty members of Seido's First String gathered around several tables.
Nearby, the rest of the club watched them with complicated eyes.
Curiosity.
And faint longing.
Seido High School Baseball Team had over a hundred members.
But when people spoke of "Seido," they meant these twenty.
For every club member, entering the First String was the first great goal.
How could they not yearn for it?
"I think I get it," Chris said slowly. "Coach is probably trying to speed up the growth of the First String's new blood."
Miyuki nodded.
Zhou Hao's thoughts weren't much different.
They all vaguely sensed that Coach Kataoka felt pressed for time.
If he didn't push things now, he might never get the chance later.
But Zhou Hao's gaze grew deeper.
"Coach probably believes that if he doesn't give the Second Team and the rookies real opportunities now, they may never get any at all."
After Zhou Hao spoke, many First String players showed expressions of understanding.
Of course, they knew what this meant.
The promoted Second Team players and talented rookies would inevitably compete with them for positions.
How could they not feel pressure?
But since Coach Kataoka made this decision, it also meant he acknowledged their current strength.
At the same time, the main players of the Second Team and outstanding rookies also deserved to be cultivated.
They needed chances.
Precisely because Seido was now strong enough to compete nationwide—
They had to ensure the next generation didn't fall behind.
Otherwise, the longer things were delayed, the wider the gap would become.
By then, promotion paths for Second Team players and rookies would be nearly cut off.
"Coach looks strict," someone muttered, "but he's always been fair."
Absolute fairness might be impossible on a team this large.
But Coach Kataoka had always followed one principle—
Everyone who worked hard deserved an opportunity.
All first-year rookies would participate in this freshman welcome game.
Their situation was bound to be harsh.
But in adversity, true potential could be discovered.
After understanding Coach Kataoka's intention, the First String players passed their conclusions to familiar Second Team members—
And even to some rookies.
Instantly, the atmosphere changed.
For Second Team players, this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.
One step forward, and they would enter the First String.
One step back, and they might never get another opportunity.
How could they let it slip?
For rookies, all of them would play.
This was never going to be fair.
But for the Second Team, the lineup was mostly fixed—
Core members, all of them.
These players, standing right at the threshold of the First String, began looking at the rookies with terrifying intensity.
As if they wanted to crush them completely.
"S-So scary…"
"Why do the upperclassmen look like they want to eat us alive?"
The rookies weren't stupid.
They could clearly feel the killing intent in those gazes.
Cold sweat formed on their backs.
Even Zhou Hao felt his temples ache.
What kind of joke was this?
He understood Coach Kataoka's reasoning.
But he absolutely could not accept that the mission he had just taken on might fail so quickly.
Two rookies were already in the First String.
They wouldn't even participate in the welcome game.
Among the remaining rookies—
Could anyone break through?
How many Second Team players could rise?
His mission objectives—
How many First String players to cultivate.
How many Second Team players to nurture.
All of it affected his evaluation.
And his rewards.
If things continued like this, the result would be disastrous.
He had to act.
No matter what.
Even if he couldn't push more players into the First String—
He had to at least push some into the Second Team.
Among this year's rookies, aside from the two monsters already promoted—
There were still a few with enough talent.
With proper guidance—
Zhou Hao turned and ran straight toward the Coach's office.
"Zhou Hao?"
Manager Ota was inside discussing the freshman welcome game with Coach Kataoka.
To be honest, he felt it was too early.
But Coach Kataoka's attitude was extremely firm.
Urgent, even.
Seeing Zhou Hao enter, Manager Ota smiled.
Coach Kataoka's expression softened slightly.
"Coach. Manager," Zhou Hao greeted.
"I heard about the freshman welcome game. I'm quite familiar with the first-year rookies. May I help arrange their lineups?"
Both men were momentarily stunned.
Zhou Hao had been acting strangely lately.
The old Zhou Hao wasn't cold—
But he also wasn't someone who volunteered enthusiasm.
Recently, however…
He seemed unusually concerned about the rookies.