Co-ed Swedish Relay (6)
I caught up to Class 1’s runner halfway through the first lap and passed him in an instant, not giving him even a sliver of room to react.
And without losing momentum, I overtook Class 2 as well, then surged into the second lap and passed Class 3 just as it began.
(Only one left—just Class 4, leading the pack! All of this is thanks to Hasumin, who closed the gap with everything she had! I swear I’ll answer that resolve, no matter what! Let’s gooooo!!)
Then, at the 350-meter mark, I finally caught sight of the last runner—the anchor of Class 1-4.
As I closed in right behind him,
““““OOOOOHHHHH!!??””””
A roar of excitement erupted from the spectator stands.
Then, on the final 20-meter straightaway, I drew up alongside him and prepared to pass in one final burst—
(Tch—he’s accelerating now!? He didn’t look like he had anything left in the tank—!)
But I couldn’t quite pull ahead. On the contrary, he edged just slightly in front.
Glancing sideways, I caught a glimpse of his face twisted in a fierce, grimacing snarl—he was biting down hard, desperate not to lose.
Just like me, he was giving it everything he had to win.
Classes 4 and 5 were locked in a battle for the year’s overall championship.
And with this being the final event, if Class 4 won, they’d take the crown.
But if I won, it would be a come-from-behind victory for Class 5.
In other words, the Class 4 anchor was running with the weight of his entire class’s hopes on his back.
Of course he wasn’t going to let himself lose easily.
And now, after already running the 100-meter and the 1500-meter races—and now this 400-meter anchor leg at a pace that defied reality—I was finally starting to feel the toll.
My body felt as heavy as lead, and even though the finish line was so close, I just couldn’t find the strength to pass him.
And while I struggled, the goal tape drew nearer and nearer.
[Here comes the final showdown! Neither side is giving an inch—it’s a head-to-head brawl for the win! The year’s first-year class champion will be decided right here—will it be Class 4 or Class 5?! Who’s going to take it!?]
As the commentator reached peak hype, I calmly assessed the situation with the sharp judgment I’d honed during my days as a hero.
(If—if I just used my hero skill for a split second, without getting caught—I could win easily. If I did that, Hasumin would be so happy, especially after dropping the baton…)
A single moment of using the skill wouldn’t be enough to expose me.
If I wanted to win, I could just use it.
It wasn’t even a question—it was the simplest answer.
—But.
Today, I’d sworn not to use my hero skills.
I’d made up my mind to enjoy this sports festival for what it was—a celebration—purely with my own strength, without cheats.
(More than anything… there’s something even more important to me now!)
Hasumin had dropped the baton in an accident—and even though she’d recovered somewhat, there was no doubt it had shaken her.
And still, she held back her tears, picked it up, and ran with everything she had to hand it to me.
To that brave, earnest resolve—there’s no way I could answer with a cheat. I want to respond with my own strength, not as a hero, but as one person—Oda Shuhei!
So just a little more—!
Just a little more strength is all I ask!
(Come on, legs—run for meeeee!!)
With just a few meters left to the finish, I pulled up alongside the Class 4 anchor once more.
The goal was right there—less than a second away.
(I’ll pass him—!)
At the very last instant,
I poured every ounce of power I had into my body and burst through the goal tape—