Chapter 051: The Sports Festival Concludes! Congratulations, Stable as a Mountain!
Thinking along those lines.
"President Horikita," Nagumo's voice carried a hint of pleasure, "the words I said at the opening ceremony weren't wrong, right? This is indeed a cross-era new beginning. I am looking forward to facing off against the President in the same baton rank."
But unfortunately, Horikita Manabu did not look at him. His gaze fell into the distance, resting on the starting line of the final anchor leg.
A person was standing there, wearing a red tracksuit, completely expressionless, with both hands tucked into his pockets. His golden eyes were fixed ahead, looking at who knows what.
And that boy was Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
"Indeed." Horikita Manabu's voice was very calm. "These current students are all exceptionally outstanding people. For the school's history, it is also cross-era."
Nagumo's smile stiffened for a moment. He realized that Horikita Manabu was merely echoing his sentiment and wasn't actually paying any attention to him.
Consequently, Nagumo followed Horikita Manabu's gaze and quickly discovered that Horikita Manabu was looking at Class D's final anchor—looking at that expressionless boy who had remained silent throughout the sports festival.
Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.
The corner of Nagumo's mouth twitched slightly. He recalled what Hikigaya had said to him before the sports festival began—"Class D arranged a monster for the final leg. If you run the final leg, you will lose."
At that time, he hadn't believed it, but he hadn't wanted to lose face either, especially since Horikita Manabu had also quickly decided to give up running the final leg. Everything indicated that the first-year Class D's Ayanokouji was a monster.
But Nagumo withdrew his gaze and stopped paying attention to Ayanokouji. After all, they weren't running the same leg; no matter how well the opponent performed, it would be meaningless. So it was fine to just ignore him.
However...
As someone who liked appreciating beautiful girls, his gaze landed on the black-haired, long-haired girl who was also here in the zone for the second leg. Long black hair, red eyes, and a cold expression. She looked exactly like Horikita Manabu.
"..." Nagumo ran through this discovery in his mind, then withdrew his gaze. He didn't say much else. Some things were best kept to oneself.
And now.
The runners for the first leg had already crouched down at the starting line. Hachiman stood at the edge of the sports field, hands in his pockets, watching in that direction.
Class A's first runner was Kanzaki Ryuuji, standing in lane four, adjusting his breathing. His expression was steady, his eyes fixed on the track ahead. Class B's first runner was Hashimoto Masayoshi, standing in lane three with his standard trademark smile. Class C's Albert stood in lane five, his massive silhouette resembling a wall. Class D's Hirata Yousuke stood in the outermost lane, his expression serious, brows slightly furrowed.
"Bang—!"
The starting pistol fired. Twelve people across the three school years dashed out simultaneously.
Kanzaki Ryuuji's start wasn't the fastest, but it was incredibly stable. His stride frequency was high, every step hitting the rhythm perfectly, arms swinging powerfully, body leaning slightly forward. Class B's Hashimoto Masayoshi was half a body length ahead of him, Albert was behind him, and Hirata Yousuke was right beside him. The distance between them was tightly contested; no one had pulled off a clear lead yet.
Cheers from the spectator stands flooded in from all directions, blending together so loudly that it was impossible to discern whose name was being shouted. Hachiman's gaze followed Kanzaki's figure, watching him complete the first curve and finish the straightaway. The baton was gripped firmly in his hand without any wobbling.
The first leg ended.
Hashimoto arrived at the exchange zone first, passing the baton to Katsuragi Kohei. Kanzaki arrived second, handing the baton over to Shibata Souta. The moment Shibata received the baton, his entire body launched outward like an arrow. His start was blazing fast, his stride frequency astonishingly rapid, making a dull thudding sound with every step on the track. Katsuragi was less than three meters ahead of him, so he gritted his teeth and gave chase.
Meanwhile, Hirata arrived third, passing the baton to Horikita Suzune. The moment Horikita received the baton, her expression shifted, becoming incredibly focused. Her start wasn't fast, but her rhythm was steady; her strides weren't large, but each step landed exactly where it needed to.
At this moment, there were five people on the track for the second leg. Katsuragi was first, Shibata second, Horikita third, with second-year and third-year runners trailing behind.
The distance between Shibata and Katsuragi was narrowing bit by bit. Three meters, two meters, one meter. He was chasing him down. At the same time, the distance between Horikita and Shibata was widening bit by bit—it wasn't that she had slowed down, but rather that Shibata was too fast. The physical disparity between males and females was starkly magnified here.
Right at this time, Shibata took a deep breath, accelerated fiercely, and surged past Katsuragi. Katsuragi caught him in his peripheral vision—the fastest running male student in Class A swept past him, kicking up a gust of wind. Katsuragi's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't lose his composure, maintaining his own rhythm to keep running.
Inside Class A's tent, cheers erupted: "Shibata-kun has overtaken Katsuragi!"
On the other side of the second leg, Horikita Suzune was sprinting with all her might. Her breathing was heavy, her legs were aching, but her rhythm didn't falter. Her gaze was locked forward on Shibata Souta's retreating figure.
Shibata was getting further and further ahead of her—it wasn't that she was slow, but that he was too fast. The physical gap between them wasn't something that could be bridged by sheer willpower alone. She couldn't shorten the distance to Shibata, nor could she catch up to Katsuragi. But she didn't give up, continuing to run her own race.
Nagumo Miyabi stood in the second-year exchange zone, watching the figures on the track. Katsuragi was running, Shibata was running, Horikita Suzune was running. Soon, he received the baton from the second-year Class A's first runner, lifted his head, and cast a glance toward Horikita Manabu.
"President Horikita," a smile played on Nagumo's face, "this is the beginning of a new era."
Then, he bolted forward. His start was lightning fast, with high stride frequency and a large stride length, every step looking as if it were measuring the track. Despite starting from behind, his speed was incredibly rapid.
First, he overtook Horikita Suzune without glancing at her, simply brushing past her and creating a gust of wind. Horikita caught him in her peripheral vision—blonde hair, a red tracksuit, and that slight smirk at the corner of his mouth. But she didn't lose her composure, continuing to run her own race.
Next, Nagumo caught up to Katsuragi and passed him directly without slowing down. Katsuragi watched the blonde silhouette pull away and didn't give chase—he knew he couldn't catch up.
Soon enough, Nagumo's target shifted to Shibata Souta. Shibata was less than ten meters ahead of him. Nagumo increased his stride frequency. Ten meters, eight meters, six meters, four meters, two meters. As he surged past Shibata, Shibata caught him out of the corner of his eye.
Shibata didn't panic. He didn't accelerate, nor did he slow down; he simply maintained his own rhythm.
'Hikigaya-kun said that even if you can't outrun them, you still have to run. Just run your own race. At the very least, don't panic!'
At this moment in the preparation area for the second leg, Horikita Manabu was still standing on the track. Finally, his first runner was running toward him, arriving late.
Yes, arriving late. Because the third-year Class A's first runner had tripped less than ten meters away from him, scraping his knee on the track and tumbling forward. By the time he scrambled back up, two people had already overtaken him. Therefore, when the boy ran into the exchange zone, his eyes were red: "President, I'm sorry—we are in last place right now..."
Horikita Manabu took the baton. "It's fine."
Then, he bolted forward. Horikita Manabu was reliable and steady; his rhythm was stable, yet his speed was incredibly fast, matching the wind itself. He quickly overtook the first person, then overtook the second person without slowing down. He even blew past the third person without breaking a sweat. Like a gust of wind, he surged forward from the very last position toward the front.
The scene instantly erupted with intense applause and cheers.
Ahead of Horikita Manabu, there were only two students left: Shibata, who was temporarily in second place, and Nagumo Miyabi, who was in first place.
Shibata soon heard the sound of wind behind him. It wasn't wind; it was a person. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a red silhouette flashing past—Horikita Manabu. He didn't look at him or slow down, simply passing him like the wind. Shibata's footing faltered slightly, his rhythm broke, and his breathing shifted. It could be said that Shibata had been overtaken once again.
However, he didn't stop; he kept chasing.
Nagumo Miyabi, who was in first place, also heard the sound of wind behind him. He knew exactly who it was. He didn't look back, only increasing his stride frequency. His legs were throwing up acid and his breathing was growing heavy, but he did not slow down.
Yet, Horikita Manabu still caught up to him. The two ran side-by-side on the red track. Their stride frequencies looked different, their stride lengths looked different, but their speeds were identical. The cheers from the spectator stands grew even louder; some were shouting "President Horikita," some were shouting "Vice President Nagumo," while others were just screaming.
Hachiman stood at the edge of the sports field watching this scene, unable to stop himself from muttering, "Impressive."
Because right now, even though Horikita Manabu and Nagumo were maintaining the exact same speed, Horikita Manabu had caught up all the way from the absolute last place. In the same situation, Nagumo couldn't compare to him at all.
Ichinose stood next to him, her gaze resting on Shibata. After being overtaken by two people, Shibata hadn't given up, continuing to run in pursuit. "Fortunately, he didn't completely give up."
Hachiman glanced at her. "He isn't the type of person who gives up."
Very soon, the second leg concluded. The baton was passed to the third leg, but the distances had already widened.
The third-year Class A led second place by five meters, but the second-year Class A led third place by twenty-five meters. The first-year Class A's Shibata Souta secured third place, but the gap to first place had already widened to nearly thirty meters. The first-year Class B's Katsuragi was in fourth place, less than ten meters behind Shibata. The first-year Class C runner was in fifth place.
The first-year Class D's Horikita Suzune was in seventh place. It wasn't because she ran slowly, but because the people ahead were too fast.
Inside the tent, the expressions of the Class D students were quite unsightly. Some lowered their heads, some turned away, and some were still watching the track, though their expressions held no more hope.
"It's all Sudo's fault," Ike Kanji's voice came from the crowd, carrying clear dissatisfaction. "If he were here, we wouldn't be in such a miserable state."
"You can't blame it all on Sudo, right?" Yamauchi Haruki's voice chimed in. "Look at the second leg; how much distance was Horikita-san pulled apart by? Girls running against boys simply can't win in the first place."
"Well, you can't blame Horikita-san either; she did her best," another voice said.
"Then who do we blame? Blame Ayanokouji?"
"Stop arguing," Yukimura Teruhiko's voice came from the side. "The race isn't over yet."
"Not over yet? Class D is already in seventh place, and the distance to first place is nearly fifty meters. How do we catch up?" Ike Kanji's voice grew louder. "Do you think Ayanokouji is a god? Can he catch up fifty meters by himself?"
"Didn't he run really fast in the scavenger hunt?" Yamauchi said.
"The scavenger hunt was a hundred meters; this is two hundred meters. And no matter how fast he is, the people ahead aren't slow either. A fifty-meter gap—how do you catch up?"
The voices of the few went quiet.
Meanwhile, the third leg continued. Class D's third runner was Matsushita Chiaki. She took the baton from Horikita Suzune and dashed out. Her physical fitness wasn't bad, but it wasn't top-tier either. Running in seventh place, every runner ahead of her was faster than she was.
She was chasing, but the distance was widening bit by bit. Soon, she fell to ninth place. It wasn't that she didn't work hard; she had simply reached her limit.
After Matsushita finished her two hundred meters, she passed the baton to the fourth runner. Class D's rank remained in ninth place. The gap to first place had already widened to nearly sixty meters.
Ayanokouji stood at the starting line of the final anchor leg, watching all of this. His expression didn't change at all, but his hands slipped out of his pockets.
Sixty meters. He ran this number through his mind. His speed was exceptionally fast, and he could outperform ordinary elite anchors by fifty meters, but fifty meters wasn't enough. He needed sixty meters, or even more. Yet, at most, he could only produce a fifty-meter advantage. This meant that even if he exerted his full strength, Class D wouldn't be able to get first place.
He closed his eyes. He recalled the start during the scavenger hunt, recalled the people he had left trailing behind him, and recalled Ryuen's exclamation of "Holy shit." His speed was the fastest, there was no doubt about that. But being the fastest didn't mean he could win. The gap ahead was too large—large enough that he couldn't claw it back alone.
Furthermore, there were still the fifth and sixth legs to be run. And could they even maintain the current sixty-meter gap?
Ayanokouji fell silent instantly.
He opened his eyes and looked ahead. The fourth leg was running, and the fifth leg was waiting. Class D's fourth runner was Miyake Akito, and the fifth runner was an ordinary student girl. Miyake seemed to have worked hard, narrowing the gap by about two or three meters. However, the fifth-leg girl caused Class D's rank to drop from ninth place down to eleventh place.
And ahead, the distance to first place was now sixty-seven meters.
In fact, the final anchors for first and second place were already flashing past his side, beginning their sprint toward the finish line!
In the spectator stands, the students of Class D fell completely silent. Lost—they had lost completely. It wasn't a loss on the final leg; it was a loss across all the preceding legs. It was a loss in strength, a loss in physical capability, and a loss in morale.
Ayanokouji lowered his head, looking at his own hand. He thought of Hikigaya Hachiman. That person knew from the very beginning that he would lose. It wasn't because his own strength was insufficient, but because Class D was inadequate. A single person's strength cannot save an entire class. This was something Hikigaya Hachiman had learned in this school, and it was also what he had proven today during the sports festival.
Ayanokouji slipped his hands back into his pockets.
And at this moment on the spectator stands...
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