"This year's newcomers are truly something—"
"I can't believe even Oshima Shin is here!"
Inside the baseball team's coach's office, several of Seido High School's key figures were visibly excited.
It had been a long time since Seido High School Baseball Team had welcomed a freshman class of this caliber. Among these newcomers, there were true supernovas—players capable of shaking the foundations of the team itself.
Matsukata Middle School had indeed been a national top-four team, but their rise had not relied solely on star individuals like Kanemaru or Tojo. Their true strength had come from balance and overall depth.
Historically, Seido was no stranger to talented rookies. In fact, they had welcomed many promising freshmen over the years—players who, following a normal growth trajectory, would become key rotation members or even starters by autumn.
That alone was proof of their talent.
However, expecting newcomers to display dominance immediately upon entering high school was unrealistic.
Junior high baseball and elite high school baseball looked similar on the surface, but in truth, they were worlds apart.
Oshima Shin was different.
He was a genuine prodigy.
Comparable to Kuroda from Osaka Kiryu or Shirazawa from Seibo—players so rare that an entire generation might only produce a handful.
Seido had never possessed such a superstar right from the start.
Just speaking of it made everyone feel a sense of pride.
Even Coach Kataoka, who was usually stern and unreadable, wore a faint smile.
After last year's third-years graduated, Seido's weaknesses had been exposed rather clearly.
First and foremost—batting depth.
Against strong opponents, only Zhou Hao and Yuki consistently posed a real threat. The loss to Inashiro Industrial in the autumn tournament had not been due solely to Zhou Hao's physical collapse late in the game.
The deeper issue was the lack of firepower throughout the lineup.
If Seido had possessed even one or two more batters of Zhou Hao or Yuki's caliber, they would never have been dragged into extra innings without scoring.
Oshima Shin's arrival was nothing short of a lifeline.
"And that kid named Furuya—the pitch he showed was unbelievable."
The freshmen's entry tests had taken place on the very first day of training.
Oshima Shin's performance went without saying. Even Seido's regulars felt immense pressure from the raw power of his swing.
With a rising star like him, no starting position felt secure.
Yet surprisingly, Oshima Shin wasn't the biggest shock.
That honor belonged to Furuya Satoru.
A fastball clocked at 151 kilometers per hour. A throwing distance exceeding 120 meters.
Even if he lacked experience—as long as he could throw strikes, he was already a top-tier pitching prospect.
When they witnessed Furuya's performance, several members of Seido nearly teared up.
Unbelievable.
Before Zhou Hao's rise, even though Seido had once relied on Yoshida as their Ace, they had never possessed a true pitching genius.
That absence had cost them dearly in clashes with West Tokyo's other powerhouses. For years, Koshien had remained just out of reach.
So much so that Seido's reputation as a national powerhouse had been openly questioned.
Just thinking about it made their blood boil.
Fortunately, Zhou Hao had emerged—breaking through every obstacle and leading Seido to national dominance.
And now?
This year, Seido didn't just have an Ace.
They had the future.
Furuya Satoru was a gift they hadn't even dared to hope for.
Whether as Zhou Hao's backup or as the next Ace after his graduation, Furuya's value was immeasurable.
Even more importantly, Zhou Hao's presence meant that Furuya could be given time—ample time—to grow.
"The glory of Seido won't be fleeting," nearly every coach thought the same. "It will be inherited."
Beyond the two headliners, this year's freshmen still included other noteworthy talents.
Tojo. Kanemaru.
Though not monsters like Oshima Shin, they had reached the national top four with their middle school team. Their fundamentals were solid, their skills reliable.
They were simply inexperienced.
Give them a few months—half a year, even—and they would surely transform.
There were also Takatsu, Kojiro, and others.
Whether they could ultimately stand out remained uncertain.
"And Kominato Haruichi is impressive too," Takashima Rei added. "His physical stats are average, but his batting success rate is sixty-five percent."
Sixty-five percent.
That meant two hits out of every three at-bats.
Takashima had never dared to dream of recruiting such a player.
Yet he had chosen Seido without hesitation.
"And Sawamura—"
When Sawamura Eijun's name came up, Takashima hesitated.
She had been the one who pushed hardest to recruit him.
Back then, Zhou Hao hadn't yet become Seido's unshakable Ace. Recruiting more pitching prospects had been a logical decision.
Now, everything was different.
Zhou Hao's position was absolute—and he was only a second-year.
That meant two more years of dominance.
Behind him were Tanba and Kawakami—insufficient as Aces, but more than capable as relievers.
Seido's pitching depth was already among the best.
With Furuya added to the mix, Sawamura's chances looked slim.
What made matters worse—
Sawamura had offended Coach Kataoka on his very first day.
He arrived late.
Worse still, he didn't apologize.
While the other freshmen took their tests, Sawamura ran laps alone.
Naturally, he couldn't accept it.
"Why?" he demanded.
"Because you were late."
"That's not fair!"
"The others apologized. You didn't."
"For half a month, you train alone."
Kataoka's authority was absolute.
He had no intention of being lenient.
"Unconvinced?"
The coach pointed toward the outfield net.
"Ninety meters. Hit it."
With a smooth, powerful motion, Kataoka threw.
The ball tore through the air and slammed into the net.
Silence followed.
"Give up—or leave."
Everyone gathered to watch.
Among all the freshmen, only two had thrown that far.
Sawamura didn't look like one of them.
Yet—
"In my dictionary," Sawamura declared, clenching the ball, "there's no such word as escape!"
Zhou Hao winked at him.
Suddenly, Sawamura remembered—
Don't abandon your style.
Create your own straight.
He adjusted his grip.
"Four-seam fastball!"
The pitch flew straight—clean, powerful.
Thwack!
It slammed into the net with force to spare.
Stunned silence.
Three freshmen capable of throwing over a hundred meters.
Unprecedented.
The ball bounced—and struck Kataoka's face.
A pause.
Then—
"Return to training."
Back in the coach's office, Ota was nervous when Takashima mentioned Sawamura again.
"He's talented," Kataoka said calmly. "But we'll wait."
The Tokyo Spring Tournament was approaching.
There were two roster spots left.
"We'll see who earns them."