Subaru gripped the relay baton and held his ground.
He didn't sprint. He waited.
The entire venue froze.
"What is that first-year doing?!"
"Run! Why are you just standing there!"
"This is your chance! The third-year hasn't taken the baton yet!"
The stands erupted in confused shouts. The Red Team's athletes were beside themselves with frustration; Sudo looked like he was about to jump onto the track and shove Subaru himself.
But Subaru didn't move.
He simply stood there, watching the far end of the third-year's lane — watching the handoff that was still in progress.
Manabu Horikita.
"Oh?"
Manabu pushed his glasses up.
The gesture was light, almost casual, yet it carried a pressure that was difficult to put into words.
Ayanokoji's speed had caught him entirely off guard. That comeback — against all odds — had put Year 1, Class C in first place by the second-to-last leg, actually opening a gap over Year 3, Class A.
And yet Subaru hadn't run.
He was waiting.
Waiting for him.
"Since you've chosen to have it out with me," Subaru said, his voice quiet, "then let it be now."
The words were soft, but in the roar of the stadium, they reached Manabu's ears with perfect clarity.
"This is just a relay race. It doesn't carry much meaning on its own — or rather, the fact that it's against you is its entire meaning."
As he spoke, the baton for Year 3, Class A's second-to-last leg was pressed into Manabu's hand.
No more words were needed.
Both of them broke into stride at exactly the same moment, as if they had rehearsed it.
—
For one heartbeat, the entire stadium went silent.
Then it exploded.
"They started at the same time!"
"That first-year freak was waiting for the Student Council President!"
"This is a duel! An actual duel!"
Every person in the stands was on their feet. It didn't matter what year they were in, what class they belonged to — every single pair of eyes in that stadium was locked on the same stretch of track.
The pinnacle of the school's student body. And the infamous troublemaker who had turned everything upside down.
Two figures, side by side.
Subaru and Manabu burst off the starting line at nearly the same instant.
The wind howled past his ears.
The track stretched out beneath his feet.
For the first time, Subaru noticed it — the act of running felt startlingly real.
Not observation. Not waiting. Not standing in the cracks of time, watching the same loops play out over and over.
Just — running. Here. Now. Real.
When was the last time he had run like this? He couldn't remember.
Beside him, Manabu kept perfect pace. His running form was flawless — the kind of flawless that left no room for criticism. Every stride's rhythm, every stride's length, every breath — all of it seemed like the product of precise, meticulous calculation. The angle of his forward lean, the arc of his arm swing, even the expression on his face: a near-merciless calm.
This was the pinnacle of the third years.
This was the Student Council President.
The corner of Subaru's mouth pulled up — barely, just a faint curve.
Not the cold confirmation of an observer. Not the indifference of the Purge King.
Just the instinctive smile that rises to a runner's lips when they find themselves facing a genuine rival.
—
In the stands, Suzune clutched her file folder with both hands.
Her gaze chased the two figures down the track, her breath caught in her throat.
"Nii-san..."
She murmured.
For as long as she could remember, Manabu had been her goal — her standard, the horizon she could never close the distance to. He was too perfect. Perfectly, hopelessly perfect. No matter how hard she pushed herself, she couldn't draw a single step closer.
But now—
There was someone running right beside him.
That person she had never been able to see through, never been able to predict, yet somehow always found herself inexplicably wanting to understand.
Subaru.
Her heart was pounding. Not for her brother, not for the class — but for the figure out there on the track.
"Come on..."
She breathed the words so quietly only she could hear them.
"Subaru..."
—
On the other side of the stands, Hiyori held her hands clasped against her chest, eyes fixed on the track without blinking.
No smile on her face — only a pure, taut focus.
"Subaru-kun..."
She whispered his name.
She had always known he was strong. She had always known he was capable of things others couldn't begin to imagine. She had always known his past must be concealing something unbearably heavy.
But she had never seen him like this.
Not observing. Not waiting. Not watching everything through those eyes that seemed to reach down into a bottomless depth.
Instead — it almost looked like passion. Like he actually wanted something.
Her eyes grew warm.
Not from excitement. Not from nerves.
Because she had finally seen it.
The real Subaru — the one she had always been searching for.
—
Fifty meters down the track, the two of them were still neck and neck.
Still perfectly side by side.
Manabu's brow furrowed by a fraction.
He had underestimated this first-year.
No — that wasn't quite right. He hadn't underestimated him. He simply hadn't been able to measure him at all.
Subaru's form wasn't perfect. If anything, it was rough around the edges. His rhythm wasn't the most efficient, his breathing control wasn't the most scientific, and his body angle was almost awkward.
But his speed bore absolutely no relation to his technique.
This wasn't the speed of training.
This was the speed of a body tempered in the crucible of countless brushes with death. Honed by dying, and dying again, until the instinct to survive had been pressed into the very marrow of his bones.
Manabu drew a deep breath — and accelerated.
Subaru felt it immediately.
The pressure at his side surged without warning. In the final fifty meters, Manabu still had more to give. This was the depth of the third years' best. This was the Student Council President's final reserve.
Subaru's eyes narrowed.
He accelerated too.
Two figures tore down the track, leaving twin blurs of motion in their wake.
"These two are insane..."
The stands had completely lost their minds. Every single person was on their feet, screaming.
The third-years stared wide-eyed. They had never seen anyone run shoulder-to-shoulder with Manabu. That perfect man, that eternally untouchable existence — being pushed to this extreme by a first-year student he'd just met.
The first-years were no less stunned. They knew Subaru was on a different level, but not this different. Going blow-for-blow with the Student Council President himself — and not giving an inch.
Ryuen rose to his feet.
His hands were clenched tight, knuckles white.
Those eyes that had once burned with savage fury were now locked, unblinking, on the figure out on the track.
Subaru.
The person who had destroyed everything he once was.
The person who had driven fear into him all the way down to the marrow.
Right now, that person was standing toe-to-toe with the strongest student the school had to offer.
And then — Ryuen saw it.
That brief flash on Subaru's face. That smile.
Not mockery. Not cold disdain. Not the lofty, downward gaze of someone looking at something beneath them.
But something — genuine.
—
Kushida rose to her feet too.
The smile she always wore had vanished. In its place was an expression complex and distorted, almost painful.
She stared at the figure on the track.
The figure she despised from the deepest part of herself. The figure she was willing to burn everything to destroy.
Right now, that figure was running.
Glowing.
"Why..."
The word fell from her lips, barely a whisper.
"Why are you always like this..."
"Why can you always... steal everything..."
Her fingers trembled at her sides.
The hatred she'd kept bottled up through the entire summer was churning in her chest. But beneath the hatred — beneath it — was something she refused to name. Something deeper. Something she didn't want to admit.
Not fear. Not resentment.
Bewilderment.
If even the Student Council President couldn't beat him...
Then what was left for her to do?
—
Honami stood in the White Team's crowd, hands clasped tight.
Her eyes shimmered — bright with tears, yet lit with a smile.
"Natsuki-kun..."
She breathed.
"You can do it."
—
Ten meters to go.
Subaru and Manabu — still side by side.
Both of their breaths had gone ragged. Sweat caught the sunlight and blazed. Their strides were still strong, but the trembling in their muscles had already given them away — both of them had hit their limit.
"Subaru!"
Manabu's voice cracked, rough-edged.
"You—"
He didn't finish.
Because there was no need.
Subaru already knew what he was trying to say.
Do you understand what this means?
It means you are becoming a participant, not just an observer. It means you are walking into their world — and letting them walk into yours.
The corner of Subaru's mouth curved up again.
A little deeper than before.
No longer the cold confirmation of someone watching from outside.
But the smile of someone who had finally found their direction — a smile that came from somewhere real.
"President."
His own voice came out rough.
"This is... my answer."
Then he took the final step.
He crossed the line.
For that one instant, it felt as if the whole world held its breath.
Every eye in the stadium was on the finish line.
Two figures — crossing at nearly the same moment.
Who won?
Who was first?
The officials scrambled to the video footage, reviewing it again and again.
Then the result came.
"First place — Year 1, Class C — Natsuki Subaru!"
"Second place — Year 3, Class A — Manabu Horikita!"
"Margin — 0.01 seconds!"
____
Apparently the author is back, but he didn't say anything about why he paused.
____
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