The heat radiating from the clay track was intense, seeping through the rubber soles of their sneakers. The air shimmered, distorting the view of the finish line fifty meters away.
Takumi took his place in lane 3. He shook out his limbs, jumping up and down, slapping his thighs. He looked like a coiled spring that had been wound too tight, leaking energy with every movement.
"Renji, you're in lane 4." Takumi said, pointing to the lane next to him. "This is perfect. I want you right there so I can see you in my peripheral vision when I pass you! It'll be like that scene in Speed Runner episode 12!"
Renji silently stepped into lane 4. He didn't jump nor did he slap his muscles like Renji. He simply stood there, planting his feet firmly, testing the traction of the loose clay. He adjusted his posture, aligning his spine, his breathing slow and rhythmic.
To the onlookers, the contrast was striking. Takumi was a ball of chaotic fire; Renji was a pillar of ice.
"On your marks."
Takumi dropped into a crouch start, placing his hands on the burning hot dirt. He mimicked the professional sprinters he saw on TV, his fingers digging into the dust. He was tense, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding the position.
[Target: Hoshino Takumi]
[Status: Tunnel Vision / Over-Hype]
[Thought: "Explosive start! Power! Speed! Hina is watching!"]
Renji remained standing. A standing start was less explosive but offered better stability for an amateur on a slippery dirt track. He lowered his center of gravity slightly, his chin tucked, his eyes locked not on the finish line, but on the path directly in front of him.
"Get set."
The silence stretched. A bead of sweat rolled down Takumi's nose and dripped onto the clay. A cicada buzzed loudly in a nearby tree, the sound grating against the tension.
Tweet!
The whistle blew.
Takumi exploded.
There was no denying it that the protagonist specs were real. Takumi launched himself forward with terrifying force, kicking up a cloud of red dust that coated the students in the front row. His acceleration was raw and violent, a burst of pure athletic instinct fuelled by his favourite melon bread and determination.
"Whoa! Look at Hoshino!" someone shouted from the sidelines.
By the ten-meter mark, Takumi was leading. His arms pumped wildly, fighting the air rather than slicing through it. He was fast, undeniably so, but he was chaotic. He was running on adrenaline and the desperate need for validation.
On the side, Renji started a heartbeat later.
He didn't explode; he accelerated. It was a smooth, linear increase in velocity. His stride was long and deceptive. He didn't look like he was running fast because his upper body remained perfectly still, his core engaged to prevent energy leakage. While Takumi was wasting energy bouncing up and down with every step, Renji was channelling hundred percent of his force horizontally.
At the thirty-meter mark, the gap had closed.
Takumi could hear it. Not the heavy, slapping footsteps of a normal student, but the rhythmic, precise crunch-crunch-crunch of Renji approaching on his right like a machine.
'He's catching up?!' Takumi's mind raced faster than his legs. 'No! I promised myself! I can't lose this! I have to show Hina!'
In desperation, Takumi made the classic amateur mistake. He broke form.
Instead of keeping his eyes on the goal, he turned his head to the left, toward the sidelines where the girls were standing near the shed. He wanted to see if Hina was smiling. He wanted to see if his speed had cured her sadness. He wanted the reward before he had finished the work.
"Hina! Look—!"
His mouth opened to shout.
At that exact moment, his right foot landed on a loose patch of clay. Because his head was turned, his body weight shifted. His center of gravity, already unstable from his flailing arm movements, tipped past the point of no return.
The result was spectacular.
Takumi's legs tangled. His forward momentum, deprived of a landing gear, transformed him into a projectile.
"Wha—?!"
He went airborne. For a split second, he looked like he was trying to fly, arms windmilling desperately. Then, gravity asserted its dominance.
He crashed shoulder-first into the dirt. He didn't just fall; he tumbled. He rolled once, twice, a chaotic mess of limbs and dust, before skidding across the finish line on his back, his legs kicking uselessly at the sky like an overturned beetle.
Renji crossed the line a split second later in an upright posture. He took three steps to decelerate, coming to a graceful stop.
"Time!" Coach Oni shouted, staring at his stopwatch, his face twitching as he tried to suppress a laugh. "Kamishiro, 6.8 seconds! Hoshino... 7.2 seconds. Style points for Takumi... zero."
A beat of silence hung over the field.
Then, the class erupted.
"Bwahahaha! Takumi! What was that?!"
"Did you see that dive?! He tried to headbutt the ground!"
"Nice landing, Ace!"
It wasn't malicious bullying, but it was laughter. The kind of laughter that relegated a man to the role of the class-clown.
Takumi sat up, coughing. His face was caked in red dust. There was a scrape on his cheek, and his headband was hanging around his neck like a broken noose.
He looked toward the girls.
Hina wasn't laughing. Her hands were covering her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. She looked terrified and worried for him. To her, seeing him fall wasn't funny; she was genuinely concerned for Takumi.
Even if Takumi had momentarily made her angry and embarrassed, her feelings for him was deep. Her relationship with him won't be affected due to that.
But on the other hand, his fall was also a confirmation that the track was dangerous, that the eyes around were judging, and that failure would undoubtedly result in ridicule.
[Target: Aihara Hina]
[Status: Worried / Second-Hand Embarrassment / Fear]
[Frustration Gauge: 99% (Peaking)]
Takumi scrambled to his feet, dusting off his knees, forcing a loud, boisterous laugh to cover the silence.
"Haha! I meant to do that! A slide finish! Like in baseball!" He grinned, but his eyes were darting around nervously. "I... I almost had you, right, Renji?"
Renji looked at him. He wasn't even breathing hard. It was clear that he hadn't broken a sweat making it look like he had just gone for a stroll in the park.
"You had the lead." Renji said calmly, reaching out to pick a dead leaf out of Takumi's messy hair. "But you suddenly looked at the crowd forgetting the race."
"Details, details!" Takumi winced as he touched his scraped elbow. "I brought in the energy! That's what counts! The class is laughing, see? I cheered them up!"
Renji looked at the laughing class, then at the absolutely horrified Hina, and finally back at the dusty, bleeding protagonist.
'You didn't cheer anyone up. You just became the court jester.' Renji thought, feeling a twinge of genuine pity.
"Sigh… Go to the water faucet." Renji instructed, turning him around physically. "Wash that dirt off before it gets in your eyes. And check that elbow. You can't be an Ace if you get an infection from unattended injury."
"Right, right. Good call! I'll be right back!" Takumi jogged off toward the taps, trailing dust, eager to escape the spotlight he had fought so hard to grab.
Renji stood alone at the finish line. The girls were still whispering, but the tone had shifted.
"Kamishiro-kun was so fast..."
"He doesn't even look tired."
"Did you see his muscles when he ran?"
Renji ignored them. His work on the track was done. Takumi had performed his act, and the audience was distracted just as he wanted.
Now, the real event began.
He walked over to his gym bag, which was sitting on the bench near the equipment shed. He unzipped it and pulled out a small, blue gel pack and a Ziploc bag containing a damp towel.
He then turned toward the "No-Go Zone".
Nishimura Mika was still there. The race hadn't amused her. In fact, the dust cloud Takumi had kicked up had drifted toward her, and she was currently inspecting her arm with a look of utter frustration.
She was still melting. Her bangs were plastered to her forehead. Her foundation, usually applied with surgical precision, was threatening to separate around her nose. She looked miserable, angry, and ready to bite anyone who told her to "do her best".
Renji adjusted his grip on the cold towel.
'This is the next stage.' Renji thought, a cool, amusing smile touching his lips unseen by the class. 'Temperature Control.'