Coach Kataoka had always been calm and composed.
He believed he possessed a unique insight into both baseball and people. More importantly, he believed his state of mind had long since been tempered to its peak.
Years of agony—failing to reach Koshien again and again after taking over as head coach.
Then, finally, leading the team to national dominance.
That kind of baptism was enough to make anyone mature rapidly.
Because of this, Kataoka had long thought that nothing the newcomers did could truly stir his emotions anymore.
But just moments ago—
When he subconsciously compared Sawamura Eijun with Zhou Hao, the Ace of Seido.
Coach Kataoka suddenly realized something was wrong.
Why would he think like that?
As this thought crossed his mind, the second batter in the box swung.
This third-year player was tall and sturdy, with solid all-around fundamentals.
The moment he chose to swing meant one thing—
He believed he could hit Sawamura's pitch.
Yet standing behind home plate, Kataoka felt no optimism at all.
Too impulsive.
This batter's ability was unquestionably among the best in the team.
If not for his reckless personality, he might've already secured a First String spot.
Just like now.
Even after Takazawa's previous mistake, he still swung without hesitation.
That wasn't confidence.
That was courting disaster.
Sure enough—
"Ping!"
The bat struck the ball, sending it soaring high into the air.
The batter's eyes widened in disbelief.
How could this happen?
From the swing to the moment of contact, everything felt perfect.
Sawamura's pitch speed wasn't slow.
It took real skill to hit it cleanly—and they had that skill.
After all, Seido's second and third-year core players were capable of driving Zhou Hao's pitches out of the park.
Seeing a pitch within range, they chose decisiveness—
Not only to secure a hit, but to warn the first-year newcomers.
Unfortunately, that warning failed.
Instead, it exposed their own flaw.
A high fly ball drifting directly overhead—
There was no way the first-year rookies would miss it.
Don't let the word rookie fool you.
Their experience wasn't shallow, and their strength wasn't weak.
If they couldn't catch a ball like this, they might as well quit baseball altogether.
"Pop!"
"Out!"
Two outs. Bases empty.
With just two swings, the momentum of the second and third-year squad was crushed.
"As expected of one of the three most anticipated newcomers."
"This is insane…"
"Sawamura!"
"And that other kid earlier—what was his name? Minato or something?"
As people excitedly discussed the first-years' performance, some of Zhou Hao's fans suddenly noticed something else.
Their idol was standing at the very front of the First String.
Watching the game—
And calmly directing the first-year players beside him.
"Didn't you notice? Zhou Hao is the one commanding the rookies. With him there, this is nothing."
Hearing that, everyone instinctively turned their gaze toward Zhou Hao.
Perhaps they had been reluctant to admit it before.
But now, there was no denying it.
Zhou Hao wasn't just an elite pitcher and batter—
He was also capable of leading and directing a team.
"Since when did the welcome game assign a coach to the rookies?"
"Then today's match is going to be interesting."
The anxiety of the second and third-year players was obvious.
Their eyes, fixed on Sawamura, were filled with confusion.
From a rookie's perspective, Sawamura's pitches were sharp and tricky.
But to Seido's seniors—
His speed was only average.
Not slow, but not overwhelming either.
That was simply the standard they were used to.
After all, Seido's Ace Zhou Hao threw a terrifying 155 km/h fastball.
Even first-year Furuya Satoru could reach over 150 km/h.
So how could pitches hovering between 130 and 140 km/h intimidate them?
Sawamura's fastball sat right in that range.
Logically speaking, they shouldn't have struggled.
They believed they could hit it—
Even hit it well.
But reality was merciless.
Once they actually faced Sawamura on the mound, they realized—
Hitting his pitches was far harder than expected.
Just as confusion spread across the field—
The third batter stepped in.
This player was even more burly and pulled out his largest metal bat.
"Did he notice already?"
Zhou Hao's eyes narrowed slightly.
Against Sawamura, using a heavy metal bat was the correct response.
But Zhou Hao had expected this adjustment to come in the second or third inning—
Not the first.
On second thought, it made sense.
This Seido team was no longer the Seido of the past.
They had been to Koshien.
They had dominated the nation.
Even the Second Team's core players had grown mentally.
Even if their raw talent hadn't increased much—
Their vision certainly had.
They had faced countless strong opponents.
And now, in Sawamura, they were seeing familiar shadows.
How did Seido deal with strong pitchers?
The answer had already been written by last year's team.
They only needed to follow that script.
Zhou Hao hesitated briefly—
Then gave the signal.
Sawamura's eyes widened.
So soon?
This move was supposed to be saved for the end.
He hadn't expected Zhou Hao to ask for it now.
But then he remembered—
This was only a welcome match.
At most, he'd pitch three innings.
There was no need to hide anything.
His task wasn't concealment.
It was to stand out.
To make Coach Kataoka see his potential—
And earn a direct promotion to the First String.
Zhou Hao would benefit as well.
Reluctant or not, Sawamura trusted Zhou Hao completely.
He set his stance—
And released the ball decisively.
"Whoosh!"
As the pitch flew in, the third batter's eyes lit up.
This pitch—
It felt slower?
He didn't know why.
But one thing was certain—
A slower pitch was easier to hit.
Although he didn't know exactly what the problem was—
A slower pitch like this was definitely easier to hit.
Originally, he had planned to observe one or two pitches first.
But at this moment, instinct took over.
He swung without hesitation.
"Too decisive!"
"Did you notice? The main players of Seido's Second Team all share the same flaw."
Extremely aggressive.
"Ping!"
With a sharp, explosive sound, the bat struck the white baseball squarely, sending it flying.
The entire stadium froze.
It was too fast.
Before most people could even process what had happened, the ball had already been put into play.
But then—
They saw it clearly.
The baseball flew only a dozen meters forward before dropping sharply and bouncing on the infield.
This time, the first baseman who had made a mistake earlier reacted perfectly.
He stretched out his glove—
And caught the ball cleanly.
"Pop!"
"Out!!"
Three pitches.
Three outs.
The top of the first inning ended just like that.
Score: 0–0.
For a moment, everyone watching felt their eyes widen.
"Are this year's newcomers really this fierce?"
"Three up, three down!"
"And he only threw three pitches in total!"
The spectators were stunned.
Even Coach Kataoka, standing behind the plate as umpire, couldn't hide the subtle change in his gaze.
Others had once whispered that he was narrow-minded—
That he had promoted two newcomers while leaving Sawamura behind because of their small conflict on the first day.
But that had never been the case.
Coach Kataoka had never been petty.
Losing a bit of face back then meant nothing to him.
He chose Furuya Satoru and the other player simply because the team, at that moment, needed immediate combat power.
What he hadn't expected—
Was for Sawamura to shine this brightly.
Three pitches. Three outs.
This performance was almost on par with Zhou Hao's welcome match last year.
Even if Sawamura's future achievements might never reach Zhou Hao's level—
The potential he had just displayed was terrifying.
"Must be cultivated with priority… cultivated with priority!"
Among the First String players, expressions grew complicated.
Sawamura wasn't like other freshmen.
He had already shown flashes of brilliance before.
Because of that, they accepted his performance quickly—
And because they accepted it, they became acutely aware of something else.
The pitching competition at Seido was about to become brutal.
Zhou Hao—the nation's number one Ace.
Furuya Satoru—with a fastball exceeding 150 km/h.
Tanba Koichiro—steadily improving, showing signs of an Ace candidate.
Kawakami—the reliable sidearm pitcher.
And now—
Sawamura Eijun.
There was no way all of them could remain in the First String.
At least one would be cut.
Possibly two.
Tanba.
Kawakami.
The expressions of both pitchers grew solemn.
If Coach Kataoka hadn't forbidden it, they might have already stormed the mound to challenge Sawamura directly.
The freshman team returned to the dugout.
Zhou Hao, acting as their on-field commander, high-fived Sawamura.
"Pop!"
That single sound drew the attention of all the newcomers.
Zhou Hao nodded at them calmly.
"Well done. First stage—complete victory."
"Yes!"
When Zhou Hao had said he would lead them to create a small miracle—
Their hearts had stirred, but they were still half-confused.
Now, it was different.
They could feel the path.
Just like now—
Forcing the second and third years into three up, three down.
This had likely never happened in any previous welcome match.
The expressions of the second and third-year players visibly darkened.
At that moment, Coach Kataoka spoke.
"Change pitchers. Tanba. Kawakami. Can the two of you take the mound?"
The performance of the first-year newcomers made it impossible for him to stay seated.
The remaining Second Team pitchers weren't strong enough.
With the rookies' momentum surging, letting weaker pitchers continue was asking for trouble.
If competition was inevitable—
Then let it be fair.
"Understood!"
Tanba, Seido's second pitcher, stepped forward without hesitation.
Kawakami followed closely behind.
Though half a head shorter, his fighting spirit burned just as fiercely.
The First String players exchanged looks.
This welcome match had grown far more complicated than expected.
It wasn't just the Second Team anymore—
Even First String reserves were being pulled into the fray.
"It's getting interesting."
"Hey—how can we let these first-year brats run wild?"
Isashiki Jun stroked his small mustache, his face dark with humiliation.
This wasn't just losing face—
It was unacceptable.
Second and third years losing to freshmen?
That had never happened.
How could it happen now?
"Quit yelling. We won't let him off."
"Sawamura—just you wait."
The second and third-year players weren't known for their patience.
Sawamura's performance had lit a fire beneath them.
If they were going to fight—
Then they would fight until the very end.