Chapter 141: Gods and Gods

In March, the temperature in Hiroshima hovers around 19 degrees Celsius, accompanied by a rather heavy drizzle.

When Rousseau and his group arrived, a gentle, misty rain was drifting through the air.

This was Rousseau’s first time traveling abroad. Although Hiroshima was filled with reconstructed architecture, it still retained a distinct Japanese ethnic charm. Especially when passing through the commercial street near the airport, the streets lined with traditional banners and store signs felt quite fascinating to him.

Counting the female team leader sent by the Shenzhen Sports Bureau, there were five people in total on this trip.

Since there was no private van to pick them up, they hailed two taxis.

Team leader Si Rou, Lu Jinrong, and Tian Shiwei took one car.

Rousseau and Ruan Mei took the other.

Watching Ruan Mei press her face against the car window to admire the scenery outside, it was evident that she felt a sense of nostalgia for the city she had visited during her childhood. Therefore, Rousseau asked the taxi driver to take them on a brief tour around Hiroshima.

"Japanese taxis are so expensive..." Ruan Mei whispered, yet she could not bear to let the opportunity pass, so she told the driver in Japanese where they wanted to go.

Ruan Mei’s Japanese was quite decent.

Though there was not the slightest trace of a Hiroshima accent in it.

Along the way, Ruan Mei shared her family’s story with Rousseau. The story was rather long and spanned three generations, so he let most of it pass, but he listened intently to the tale of the man known as the "God of Sprints."

After all, Japan was abundant in "gods"—eight million of them, in fact—so one frequently heard of the God of Sushi, the God of Management, the God of Rice, or the God of Rice Cakes. To Rousseau's surprise, however, this God of Sprints actually had the athletic achievements to back it up.

...

The IAAF World Athletics Tour, Hiroshima International Track and Field Meet.

It was a bronze-label event.

This year marked its fifth consecutive year.

According to the regulations of the International Association of Athletics Federations, holding a competition of the same tier for five consecutive years qualified a city to apply for the tier above it.

Moving from a bronze-label open meet to a silver-label grand prix, then to a gold-label super grand prix, and finally becoming a permanent stop on the Golden Grand Prix circuit was a supreme honor for any city in terms of cultural and athletic prestige.

Throughout this process, demonstrating to World Athletics that the city possessed a deep and enduring sports culture was a crucial step.

And nothing could prove this better than an elite athlete.

...

Japanese national team coach Kanno Tsuchie watched the athletes running on the track before him.

Although this athlete was already 32 years old—considered "elderly" in sprinting—and his explosive power and reaction time fell short of younger competitors, his experience made up for all of that. For he was the Japanese God of Sprints: Koji Shino.

The first Asian sprinter to break the 10.00-second barrier.

Koji Shino crossed the finish line.

Then he jogged over to Kanno Tsuchie.

"Coach, what was my time?"

Kanno Tsuchie showed him the stopwatch.

"Much slower," Koji Shino sighed. "Sprinting really is a young man's world."

"You are still fast," Kanno Tsuchie said. "Young Japanese athletes today cannot necessarily run faster than you."

"That is why an old fellow like me was invited to compete in the Hiroshima Grand Prix, and why I must trouble you to serve as my coach. The organizing committee hopes to keep the honor in Japan," Koji Shino said.

"To keep the honor in Hiroshima," Kanno Tsuchie corrected. "In order to host a higher-tier tour event, the organizing committee hopes we can win this race, or at least secure a top-three finish."

"Since it is my hometown, I will do my absolute best. So, who are my opponents?" Koji Shino asked.

"Because it is a bronze-level event, there won't be too many formidable rivals. Primarily a few athletes from the United States, and you should pay special attention to an athlete from the mainland named 'Rousseau'..." Kanno Tsuchie said.

...

Rousseau stepped out of the taxi amidst the light drizzle.

He opened his umbrella, pulled Ruan Mei under it, and gazed at the Japanese building, which possessed a profound sense of vintage charm beneath the gray sky.

It was a private shoemaking studio bearing the letter "B."

The moment Ruan Mei pushed open the wooden door, she was politely intercepted by a shop assistant.

Studio B only hosted 10 to 15 guests a day, and today's quota was full. Unless one was an elite runner from the city or a renowned athlete, visitors were regretfully turned away.

"Your grandfather certainly has a lot of flair," Rousseau remarked with a sigh. "A renowned athlete... am I qualified to rely on my face to get in?"

"Forget it, even if we go in, we might not get to see Grandpa," Ruan Mei gave up.

Just as the two turned around, another car happened to stop in front of Studio B. It was a black van. The sliding door opened, and a sturdy male athlete dressed in sportswear stepped out carrying a gym bag. Someone inside the vehicle waved goodbye to him.

The two exchanged words in Japanese, which Rousseau could not understand, but Ruan Mei could. Rousseau noticed Ruan Mei staring fixedly at the sportswear-clad man, unable to tear her gaze away.

At that moment, a voice called out from inside the van: "Rousseau!"

Eh?

Rousseau looked inward and saw... well, who was this?

"Konnichiwa, watashi wa Tsuchie Hiroshi desu. Watashitachi wa Higashi Ajia Seinen Undoukai de atta koto ga arimasu." The stout middle-aged man stepped out of the car and extended his hand toward Rousseau.

Rousseau looked hesitatingly at Ruan Mei. By then, Ruan Mei had broken her gaze away and translated for him: "He says his name is Kanno Tsuchie, and he met you at the East Asian Youth Games."

"Oh~" Rousseau remembered now. He was the coach of the Japanese athletes Masafumi Fujimitsu and Kenshi Yumuki.

"Anata wa Mei?" At that moment, the man in sportswear also looked at Ruan Mei and asked, "Watashi wa anata no Koji ojisan desu!"

Splendid, everyone knew each other.

...

Inside Studio B.

Rousseau, Ruan Mei, Koji Shino, and an old man sat facing one another.

That old man was Hitoshi Mimura, the Japanese God of Running Shoes.

"Please have some tea," Koji Shino said with a smile, entertaining Rousseau. "What an incredible coincidence. Tomorrow we shall be competitors, yet today we meet in my home, and you are friends with little Mei. It is truly fate."

Of course, Koji Shino spoke in Japanese, and Ruan Mei translated.

At that moment, the old man spoke his first words since they entered. His attitude had been icy cold from beginning to end. Ruan Mei hurriedly replied, while pulling out some documents to show him, but the old man looked utterly dismissive.

Rousseau had no choice but to drink his tea.

He genuinely wanted to chat with Koji Shino—asking what it felt like to run 10.00 seconds, or what it felt like to be called the "God of Sprints."

Rousseau had always aspired to become the "Sprint King," but compared to the title of "God of Sprints," it suddenly sounded a bit lacking. Besides, there was also a "God of Running Shoes" right here in this household. Would having two gods in one family make things a bit crowded?

Without Ruan Mei’s translation, however, Rousseau had no way to converse with Koji Shino. He could only drink tea, drink tea, and drink more tea.

During this process, Tian Shiwei sent a text message asking where Rousseau had gone. Had he gotten lost?

Rousseau replied: "Drinking tea at Ruan Mei's family home."

Tian Shiwei: "What? Ruan Mei actually brought her prospective husband home to meet the family!"

Rousseau: "Get lost."