The Outcome of the Match (1)
My body broke through the finish line—at the exact same moment as the anchor from Class 4.
In the end, I couldn’t pull ahead; we crossed the line side by side.
“Haa, haa, haa, haa…”
Bent over, hands on my knees as I gasped for air, I immediately turned my eyes toward the officials holding the flags for first and second place.
(Who won!?)
It had to have been nearly a dead heat.
Still, I didn’t feel like I had lost.
The moment we broke the tape—
I could’ve sworn, just barely, my body edged out ahead of the Class 4 anchor.
Of course, in a race that close, all I’d been focused on was sprinting full tilt toward the finish, so I couldn’t be absolutely sure who came out on top.
Even so, the battle-hardened instincts I’d cultivated through five years of real combat as a Hero in another world told me—this was my victory.
(So? Which is it?)
But no matter how long I stared at them, the officials didn’t make a move toward us.
Instead, they stood frozen, casting uncertain glances toward the operations tent.
A strange, inexplicable silence fell over the field. I exchanged a glance with the Class 4 anchor, who stood just beside me.
Moments ago, we’d been fierce rivals unwilling to give an inch—but it wasn’t like we were enemies who couldn’t coexist.
Now that the race was over, we were just two first-years from the same high school who had both given it everything we had.
“Oda, right? I heard the rumors. Ever since second term started, Class 5’s got this insane ‘returning-home’ club guy who wins anything he tries, even at Inter-High level. I thought I had a huge enough lead to coast to the end, but man, you’re crazy fast.”
“You were amazing too. That last stretch, I just couldn’t get past you.”
“I’ve got my pride too, you know. Being chosen as the final anchor—I had to make it count.”
“And you did. Couldn’t have asked for a better show.”
Without a word, we both reached out and clasped right hands, shaking firmly in mutual respect for each other’s effort.
While we stood there, more and more anchors from the other classes began to cross the finish line.
Yet even then, with time slipping by, no result was announced. The students and parents in the crowd started murmuring anxiously.
Then finally, a voice came from the commentator.
[Ahem—a message from event staff. A message from event staff. Regarding the first-year co-ed Swedish relay just held, the race for first and second place was extremely close, so we are currently in the process of verifying the final standings. We kindly ask all participants and spectators to remain patient as we determine the official results.]
Just as the announcement said, the staff member who had held the finish tape had been called over to the operations desk, where several teachers and student council members gathered to deliberate.
Some leaned in close to a camera that had filmed the finish from the side, studying the footage intently, while others flipped through the competition manual, pointing at specific passages as they discussed.
The longer the confirmation process dragged on, the louder the murmurs around us grew.
By then, my breathing had finally calmed, and the rest of our relay team—Hasumin and the others—gathered around me.