After Eiyuu's interaction with the two powerful figures, she and Sakikawa found their seats in the stands. The atmosphere on the track below was electric. The giant screen above the field showed the race card in glittering letters.
[No. 1, Fuji Kiseki, Popularity: 1!]
[No. 2, Oguri Cap, Popularity: 2!]
[No. 3, XXXX, Popularity: 3!]
"Friends and fellow racing fans!" the announcer's passionate voice boomed through the stadium. "Welcome to the Aisong Novice Stakes!"
"Today will decide the new young champion of the East Kanto region, the Fuji Kiseki Cup! The song of victory, which has been silent for a year, will finally be sung by one of these rising stars!"
The roar of the crowd was deafening. Eiyuu's heart pounded in her chest, her hands clenched into fists. Her gaze shifted from Oguri Cap to Fuji Kiseki as they entered the starting gates. Oguri Cap seemed a little nervous, but her eyes burned with fighting spirit. Fuji Kiseki, on the other hand, was the picture of calm, her eyes carrying the relaxed aura of a true champion. She exuded an oppressive sense of confidence.
The announcer's voice rose to a crescendo. "All racers are in the gates! The 1600-meter grass track is before them! And now—"
CLANG!
The starting gate flew open!
"The race has begun!"
Fourteen figures shot out of the gate.
"A great start! Fuji Kiseki takes the lead, just as expected! She's a beautiful runner! She uses the most stable running style, conserving her energy from the very beginning!"
"And behind her is the ash-haired monster, Oguri Cap! Her start was a bit clumsy, but she's catching up with sheer, explosive power!"
A gray shadow, running with a wild, untamed energy, clung stubbornly to Fuji Kiseki, refusing to give her an inch of breathing room. Kitahara stood up in her seat, her fists clenched, her face a mess of nervous tears. Saki was right beside her, shouting encouragement.
"Go, Ogu-chan, you can do it!"
Sakikawa took a sip of his drink and calmly observed the race. He was so still he might as well have been a statue. The pure passion of the race seemed to have no effect on him.
"Her leg action is too wide, her core strength is a mess, and her power consumption is a disaster," he commented dryly. "She's been running for 800 meters and she's already starting to pant."
Kitahara shot him a dirty look. "What do you know! This is the leadership of the strongest runner in Aisong! Her rhythm is second to none!"
"I'm talking about her rhythm. I'm just looking at the data." Sakikawa threw the empty can into the trash and gestured to Oguri Cap on the track below. "From your point of view, Oguri Cap's running is clearly flawed. Her stride is unstable, her frequency has a large margin of error, which reduces her speed. But this running style is also conservative, allowing her to save energy for the final stretch."
Eiyuu listened intently, her brain trying to process the data. Is this what a real race is like? Was it really a battle of numbers?
"You... you bastard!" Kitahara stammered, her face turning red. "A race is not just about data! It's art! The cry of a soul! The passion that Ogu-chan needs is support and encouragement, not your cold, heartless data!"
"Oh, is that so? How touching," Sakikawa said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Kitahara, what era are you living in? You're still playing with mud while everyone else is studying science. I don't blame you. What you call 'art,' in my eyes, is just a way to run that compensates for various physical weaknesses. You call this 'art'? I call it 'data'!"
He was completely demolishing her worldview. Kitahara was so angry she couldn't speak, just glared at him, her face pale.
The race had entered the first turn. The lead was still held by Fuji Kiseki, but Oguri Cap was right behind her, maintaining a half-length distance, her breathing steady.
"A good race!" the announcer shouted. "Fuji Kiseki maintains a perfect rhythm! She's controlling the pace of the entire race! She is so beautiful, every step is a perfectly calculated work of art! And right behind her, the gray shadow persists! Oguri Cap is not giving up! She is truly one of the top contenders in this race!"
The cheers from the stands were deafening.
Sakikawa crushed the last of the can in his hand and tossed it aside, a small smile playing on his lips. His dead-fish eyes narrowed slightly, a rare hint of focus in his otherwise lazy expression.
"Here it comes," he whispered.
"What's coming?" Kitahara asked, annoyed.
"Look at Fuji Kiseki's left hind leg." Sakikawa's gaze was sharp, his focus locked on his target. "Every time she lands, there's a pause of less than one second. It's a classic sign of the early stages of muscle fatigue. Her core strength can't keep up, and she's using her hamstrings to compensate. Her stamina reserves... are about to hit rock bottom."
Kitahara and Saki instinctively widened their eyes, staring intently at Fuji Kiseki's legs.
Now that he had pointed it out... it seemed like there really was a little bit of disharmony.
-------
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