First inning. 11–0.
Such a massive score difference erased any suspense from the game right from the start.
At first, the supporters of Seidou High School Baseball Team were ecstatic.
As Seidou fans, they naturally wanted to see their team dominate—strong, overwhelming, even invincible.
But when the score ballooned to 11–0 in the very first inning, even Seidou's supporters began to hesitate.
As the reigning national powerhouse, had Seidou gone too far?
"Just look at Hanada's players… they look like they're about to fall apart—"
At that moment, the Hanada High School Baseball Team truly looked devastated.
Their expressions were frozen somewhere between wanting to cry and being unable to, making the scene hard to watch even for Seidou's supporters.
Even the Seidou players watching from the stands couldn't help but comment.
"The seniors are way too ruthless…"
Eleven runs in the first inning had completely crushed any hope of suspense.
The Hanada players probably didn't even have the thought of fighting back anymore.
The gap was simply terrifying.
"I feel like the seniors could've gone a bit easier…"
Kanemaru muttered softly.
A graduate of Matsukata Junior Baseball, Kanemaru was well aware of the unspoken rules powerhouse teams followed—knowing when to stop, and understanding restraint.
Strong teams inevitably faced weaker opponents.
If they played without holding back, it was easy to utterly crush the other side, creating a despair-inducing score.
Most of the time, that didn't matter.
But sometimes, when people were pushed too far, psychologically unstable players might snap.
If they couldn't win with skill, they might resort to targeting people instead.
Drive a dog into a corner, and it would bite back.
That was the principle.
Hanada High School Baseball Team had already collapsed.
Winning this game was no longer in doubt.
There was no need for Seidou to waste unnecessary stamina—just play it out and finish cleanly.
"Why? Giving your all on the field is the greatest respect to your opponent!"
Sawamura couldn't accept Kanemaru's viewpoint.
With his pure love for baseball, Sawamura believed that once he stepped onto the field, holding back was never an option.
He would always give everything he had.
As for whether the opponent wanted that?
He didn't care.
For Sawamura, effort itself was the statement.
"You don't get it," Kanemaru replied seriously.
"There's a limit to bullying on the field. It's like in soccer—if you've already dribbled past the goalkeeper, you shoot immediately. You don't stop and wait. That's provocation."
"Once victory is secured, you can't keep scoring endlessly. That's also provocation!"
Tojo nodded in agreement.
The living environment of powerhouse teams was completely different from the rough-and-tumble teams Sawamura was used to forming on his own.
At that moment, Oshima—who had been silent—spoke up.
"The seniors have already held back."
Everyone turned to look at him.
Held back?
With an 11–0 score in the first inning, he was saying the seniors were showing restraint?
"Seidou has its own sense of integrity," Oshima explained calmly.
"At most, they played casually—but they would never intentionally make outs. That's why the score turned out like this."
Hanada's ace had already collapsed mentally.
Even if Seidou's batters only swung casually, the balls would still fly.
"If the seniors truly went all out," Oshima continued,
"this inning could've easily gone over twenty runs."
He wasn't exaggerating.
Logically speaking, Hanada's ace wasn't weak. Their team shouldn't have ended up in such a state.
But from the very start, the first few Seidou batters had completely broken him.
By the time the lineup reached the seventh batter, he couldn't even react properly—every pitch was crushed.
Once a pitcher collapsed mentally, his performance inevitably plummeted.
And who were Seidou's main players?
To put it bluntly, even their casual swings were stronger than many teams' cleanup hitters.
The result was inevitable.
Hearing Oshima's analysis, the first-year players in the stands were convinced.
This was what true expertise looked like.
This was professional-level analysis.
They were all first-years—but compared to Oshima, they were worlds apart.
They fully believed his judgment.
This had to be the truth.
In the second inning, Seidou began making substitutions.
Coach Kataoka's changes were cautious.
Despite the 11–0 lead, Hanada still technically had a chance—however slim.
Better safe than sorry.
What if the opponent somehow scored three to five runs?
If Seidou failed to end the game early and allowed that to happen, it would be nothing short of a slap in the face.
Coach Kataoka would not allow such an accident.
So only half the lineup was replaced, leaving five main players on the field.
Even so, Seidou scored four more runs.
Although Zhou Hao was substituted out, Tanba performed steadily on the mound.
Hanada's core third batter couldn't touch his pitches—let alone score.
By the end of the second inning, the score had become 15–0.
At this point, Seidou's supporters finally understood.
It wasn't that their team refused to go easy.
Hanada was simply too weak.
In high school baseball, some teams grow stronger under pressure.
Facing powerful opponents could stimulate hidden potential.
But Hanada High School Baseball Team wasn't one of them.
Once they fell behind, they completely collapsed.
Their earlier smooth victories now seemed like nothing more than an illusion.
Only when they faced Seidou did they truly realize how big the world was.
There was always someone stronger.
By the third inning, even Coach Kataoka felt he had been overly cautious.
If Hanada could still overturn the game under these circumstances, Seidou might as well give up baseball altogether.
Everyone on the First String was elite.
At worst, the substitutes were only slightly weaker than the starters.
Now was their chance to gain experience.
So Seidou sent out a full substitute lineup.
From a scoreboard perspective, Seidou's actions looked excessive.
Scoring so many runs felt like stepping on the opponent to climb higher.
Yet now that they had fielded only substitutes, no one could say Seidou wasn't showing mercy.
Hanada's ace finally collapsed—literally.
He fell on the mound from sheer exhaustion.
In just three innings, he had thrown over 80 pitches, with almost no rest between them.
No pitcher could endure that pace.
Once he left the game, attention shifted to Seidou's second batter.
Kominato Ryosuke.
The ace's massive pitch count was the result of Seidou's entire lineup—but if one person stood out, it was Kominato.
His two prolonged at-bats alone had drained the pitcher dry.
Fans watching him couldn't help but shiver.
That smiling face hid a true nightmare.
He was far more terrifying than he appeared.
Until now, the stars of Seidou were Zhou Hao, Yuki Tetsuya, and Miyuki Kazuya.
Others lagged behind—Isashiki Jun included.
But from this moment on, that hierarchy was changing.
Kominato Ryosuke had officially joined the list.
His batting style and patience would haunt opposing teams for a long time to come.
When Hanada noticed Seidou's full substitution in the third inning, their spirits briefly reignited.
They knew they couldn't beat Seidou's starters.
But against substitutes?
This was their chance.
They didn't dream of a comeback.
They just wanted one run.
Or even two hits.
Anything to prove their efforts weren't meaningless.
Their fighting spirit was admirable.
Unfortunately, reality was cruel.
Facing substitutes, Hanada still couldn't score.
Seidou's substitutes, hungry for opportunity, seized the moment.
They scored eight runs in the third inning.
The score became 23–0.
The game ended early.
Final score:
Seidou High School Baseball Team 27 — Hanada High School Baseball Team 0
"Congratulations to Seidou High School Baseball Team for winning today's game, 27–0!"
When the final out was recorded, the stadium fell silent.
Players. Fans. Neutral spectators.
All were stunned.
Everyone knew Seidou would win.
But no one expected a 27-run shutout.
Such a score had never appeared in the history of the Tokyo Spring Tournament.
Seidou had set a terrifying precedent.
The cheers that followed were almost manic.
Some fans felt the score was excessive.
But none felt dissatisfied.
They knew that years from now, they would still remember this game—
And smile.