Chapter Seventy-Four: Leading the Race

The East Youth Games 200-meter final.

Three minutes remained before the official start.

Masafumi Fujimitsu stood in lane four.

Kenshi Yuki was in lane five.

The Japanese team occupied the most advantageous lanes on the track.

This could be considered a victorious rendezvous for the Japanese team in the 200-meter final.

But there was no room for carelessness… Masafumi Fujimitsu’s gaze swept past Arikhan Mailov in lane three, a 200-meter runner whose appearance made him look twice his actual age.

Throughout the entire sprinting program of the East Youth Games, this was the only foreign athlete whom Masafumi regarded as a true rival.

The 100 meters had traditionally been Kazakhstan’s domain, but in yesterday’s 100-meter final, Masafumi Fujimitsu had claimed the crown.

For Masafumi, it was merely further proof of his genius.

Today, that fact would be proven once again.

Then there was Rousseau in lane six from the mainland… Hmph, a mere clown!

…

Rousseau and Masafumi Fujimitsu exchanged glances.

From those narrow eyes, Rousseau could see a look of disdain.

Was it only now that the “Provocation” status had been received?

This one’s reactions were certainly slow.

Rousseau glanced at his own status bar. Besides the usual options like “False Start,” “Provocation,” “Break His Leg,” “Accelerate,” and “Burst,” a new one had appeared: “Intimidate.”

How interesting.

The explanation for “Intimidate” in the status bar read: “Verbal intimidation based on the champion’s psychological advantage over ordinary athletes, used to undermine the target’s confidence.”

Rousseau was clearly not a champion yet.

Perhaps it was because he wore the “Glass Crown.”

What used to be the underdog’s “Provocation” had now gained the champion-based “Intimidate.” As Rousseau’s results improved, the status bar would likely spawn more ridiculous options.

…

Of course, Rousseau didn’t choose “Provocation,” nor did he choose “Intimidate.” If he accidentally gave Masafumi Fujimitsu a bonus status effect, who would he complain to?

At this moment, the entire East Youth Games stadium rang with cheers for him, and Rousseau felt responsible to his spectators.

…

“Ready~”

The starter called out.

Instantly, the cheers in the stadium died down.

The audience held their breath, afraid that their shouts might disturb the athletes on the verge of starting the 200-meter final.

In truth, there was no need to worry. At this moment, every athlete’s attention, focus, will, and strength were concentrated solely on the track before them. None had any mind to notice the noise in the stands. In their field of vision, there was only the narrow lane ahead.

The lane that carried all their honor and dreams.

Bang!

“GO!”

Bang!

A false start.

…

Masafumi Fujimitsu stopped in his tracks, feeling a sense of weightlessness.

He wasn’t alone; all the athletes felt it. An arrow drawn and released, only to be recalled mid-flight—such a blow struck both spirit and stamina.

Lane six had false-started.

The referee ran over to the athlete from the mainland in lane six and signaled that he would be disqualified once more, but the man named Rousseau nodded indifferently, as if everything was within his expectations.

Was it deliberate?

Masafumi recalled that this mainland runner had also false-started in the preliminaries.

Such base tricks were a disgrace to this honorable track… Masafumi’s thick lips quivered.

“Calm down! Get in the zone!”

Coach Hiroshi Tsuchie shouted to his athletes.

Yes!

Both Japanese runners nodded emphatically at their coach.

Masafumi leaned over to his teammate, Kenshi Yuki, and murmured, “Keep an eye on that clown in lane six.”

“Yes,” Kenshi replied quietly.

Kenshi Yuki was the second seed on the Japanese team, boasting results in the 100 and 200 meters only marginally inferior to Masafumi’s. That slight difference meant Kenshi was outstanding even on the world stage among eighteen-year-olds.

Though sprinting is run in one’s own lane, it is still a contest of opposition.

Especially in the 200 meters, where the curve is long and requires careful technique and pacing, there’s ample opportunity for tricks to disrupt adjacent opponents.

Kenshi Yuki excelled at this.

…

As the starter’s second “Ready” echoed, Kenshi crouched down, casting a glance at the mainland athlete beside him.

Though Coach Tsuchie regarded Rousseau as a clown, he had still studied Rousseau’s profile carefully.

Height: 1.80 meters. Weight: 78 kilograms. This stature meant Rousseau was slow off the blocks and needed more time to reach top speed. His advantage, however, was a powerful finish and higher speed on the straight.

Therefore, interference could begin right from the start…

Of course, if the clown false-started again and was disqualified, there would be no need.

“GO!”

Bang!

The starter’s pistol fired.

Kenshi Yuki launched almost simultaneously with Rousseau.

The mainland athlete in lane six had a blazing start…!

The thought flashed through Kenshi’s mind like lightning.

The Japanese coaching staff had not only studied Rousseau’s statistics on paper. His scant video footage—mainly from the Southern Guangdong Provincial Games—had been watched and rewatched by both Hiroshi Tsuchie and Fumihiko Morishige, just as they had with all the other athletes’ data.

That race had been a month ago, and an athlete’s technical profile would not have changed drastically since then.

Rousseau’s start was a weakness, correlated with his height and weight. Though he’d managed a perfect start in the 100-meter final at the Southern Guangdong Provincial Games, that had clearly been luck.

In both the semifinals and preliminaries, Rousseau’s starts had been over 0.20 seconds—far from world-class.

Kenshi Yuki, being shorter and lighter, with mature technique and rich experience, could control his start to around 0.15 seconds—a world-class reaction.

Yet now, Rousseau and Kenshi were shoulder to shoulder at the start?

Was it luck?

The thought flickered through Kenshi’s mind, but it didn’t matter. He would suppress Rousseau on the curve, disrupt his stride, and break his rhythm.

With that in mind, Kenshi increased his stride frequency and adjusted his stride length, planning to accelerate even faster than usual, which would pressure and overtake Rousseau, perhaps even outpacing his own teammate Masafumi for a time.

If the mainland runner in lane six panicked and chased his pace, he would surely mismanage his energy allocation. On a 200-meter track, even the slightest error in those twenty-some seconds could be catastrophic.

This was Kenshi Yuki’s purpose and value—he was Masafumi Fujimitsu’s “escort ship,” there to shield him from strong rivals. Even if the current opponent was hardly a “strong rival,” since Masafumi had asked, Kenshi would comply.

On the 200-meter track, among the nine athletes, Kenshi Yuki surged ahead in an instant—

And the stadium erupted in a wave of astonished cries.