Sato sat quietly, focused, surrounded by the other athletes.
A girl in uniform approached. "Heat 15, please get ready!"
Some girls started moving; Sato sighed, then rose and joined the others. Let's go.
She tied her hair into a ponytail before stepping onto the track slowly.
The air was heavy, thick with tension.
Sato glanced around. She saw Inoue, Yuzuki, and other teammates waving; she waved back. But then her gaze faltered slightly.
Riccardo hasn't arrived yet...
Her heat was waiting for the previous one to finish.
She watched the other girls run, crossing the finish line—two cheering, the others disappointed.
"The 24th heat has finished! Please get in position, thank you!" the uniformed girl called.
Sato moved into place, taking her time. The judge waited until everyone was ready. Finally, they were.
"Ready…" Sato braced herself, ready to explode off the blocks. "Set… Go!" The gun fired, and she launched forward.
[Ten Minutes Earlier]
Riccardo was sprinting toward the subway, cleaning his glasses as he ran. Damn Genpaku…
He recalled Nishimura begging for help with math problems just moments ago. I'm going to be late for Shiori's race…
He dashed down the stairs and slipped his glasses on, spotting class president Kagayama waiting for the subway with two boys speaking to her.
"Come on, just grab a drink with us! Just for a bit!" one said arrogantly.
"Leave me alone," she replied timidly.
The boy tried to grab her wrist, but another hand caught his.
"Class president… you don't know these two, right?" Riccardo asked, his expression serious and intimidating.
"No… I don't…" she answered, startled.
Riccardo glanced at her fearful eyes. "Good. Then what are you still doing here? Didn't she say no, or did I hear wrong?"
He squeezed the boy's wrist painfully. "Ow!"
The boy looked at Riccardo, noticing his far larger stature, and quickly let go. "Understood! You can let go now!"
As the subway arrived, Riccardo calmly addressed Kagayama.
"This is your metro?"
"Yes…" she breathed, relieved.
"Good. Mine too."
The doors opened, and Riccardo carefully guided her inside. Two other boys tried to follow, but Riccardo nudged them aside, keeping them out.
"Hey!" Riccardo smiled provocatively. "I think you should catch the next one, don't you?"
The doors closed, leaving the boys staring in disbelief. Kagayama watched him, impressed.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yes… now it is. Thank you."
Riccardo sat across from her. "Nothing to thank me for. Anyone normal would have done the same."
"I don't think that's true…" she whispered.
"What stop are you getting off at?"
"The next one."
"Perfect."
At least I won't get too far… he thought. Already 15 minutes late…
Kagayama noticed him wearing glasses. "Aliberti… you wear glasses?"
"Yes. I'm nearsighted, but at school I use contacts for sports."
She recalled watching his match against Akagi Seishin. "You played really well last Friday…" she said softly.
He smiled. "Thanks!"
She smiled back.
The subway stopped; they exited.
"You're getting off too?" she asked, surprised.
"Long story… I'll tell you another time. See you at school!" Riccardo said, heading to switch platforms.
She blushed, realizing he took the longer route just to keep her company on the subway.
[Thirty Minutes Later]
Sato was warming up, her coach watching closely. "Sato, you passed the previous heats, but you ran 12.30 seconds. That's below your usual standard. Why?"
Sato stopped her warm-up. "I don't know… I thought I gave my all, but apparently I didn't."
The coach placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's normal to be anxious or distracted. But remember your daily efforts. Don't let them go to waste. When you run, clear your mind."
"Yes…"
The uniformed girl returned. "Group 3, please approach!"
"Go get it, Sato! Give it your all! Take that final!" her coach cheered.
Sato followed, glancing at the stands—but Riccardo was still not there.
Inoue, Yuzuki, and the others noticed her glance.
"Aliberti hasn't come yet… unusual for him," Inoue whispered.
"Did you say something?" Yuzuki asked.
"No… nothing."
Sato got into position.
"Ready…" The judge raised the gun.
"Go, Shiori!!!"
Suddenly, a shout erupted from the stands. Everyone turned.
It was Riccardo, panting, rushing in.
Sato didn't look at him, but hearing his voice, she smiled.
The gun fired. "Go!"
[The Race]
Sato exploded out of the blocks. It was clean. Too clean. Her reaction sliced through the silence, faster than anyone in her heat. By 20 meters, she was already half a step ahead. The other sprinters were still building—Sato was already launched.
At 30 meters, her stride opened—fluid, fierce, and light. The girl in the lane next to her tried to keep up, but Sato pulled away effortlessly. Her knees rose high, perfect; torso stable. Her speed continued to climb.
50 meters. Many others began to slow imperceptibly. She did not. She accelerated. It was as if her body had only now decided to truly start the race.
The competitors watched her pull away, powerless. It was a difference that hurt the eyes: she seemed in a class above.
80 meters. The crowd reacted, finally stunned by the gap she had opened in under ten seconds.
Sato didn't ease off. Jaw clenched, breaths sharp, every step hitting the track like a decisive strike.
90… 95… 100 meters.
She crossed the finish line alone, completely alone.
12.16.
A time that slammed the table for a school qualifier. The others finished almost a full stride behind, still buried in fatigue, while Sato was already slowing, chest heaving, eyes sparkling.
She didn't celebrate—at least not yet. First, she looked at the scoreboard.
12.16 — SHIORI SATO — 1st Place
Sato had reached the finals, in the pre-prefectural phase.