Chapter 146: Running in Zen
The coach had been right after all.
The thought flashed through Rousseau’s mind for an instant. Though it vanished as quickly as it came, it also helped him understand a few things.
Koji Jinno’s performance over the first thirty meters, and the pressure it exerted, made it clear that his hundred-meter personal best was absolutely not 10.18 seconds. Mori Shigefumi had obviously been lying just now.
Tsk, tsk. Japanese coaches and athletes really did have plenty of little tricks.
But once they were actually running, everything still came down to who was faster!
Rousseau lengthened his stride and charged toward the finish.
…
A thunderous roar of encouragement rose from the stadium.
Thousands of Hiroshima residents waved flags and shouted for their sprinting god.
None of those voices could affect the athletes on the track.
…
Hiroshi Tsuchie watched Rousseau’s figure, his brow gradually knitting together.
Too fast.
He was keeping Jinno firmly behind him.
Tsuchie had previously believed that Rousseau’s weakness was his start, but that weakness had now been completely made up for.
Jinno’s reaction speed and explosive power were no longer what they had been in his youth. From the instant they launched, he had already fallen behind Rousseau.
After that, Jinno was never able to close the gap. During the first thirty meters, it had looked as though he might have had a chance, but once Rousseau entered that starlike, flowing stride of his, Jinno was entirely outmatched.
They had made so many preparations before the race, all in the hope of helping Hiroshima retain the championship title. But once the athletes actually stepped onto the track, everything still depended on the athletes themselves.
A “god” was, after all, a god of the past.
“What a prodigy…” Tsuchie sighed. “There probably isn’t anyone in Japan today who can match him…”
…
They passed the fifty-meter mark.
They were already more than halfway through the race.
The pressure from behind was no longer very strong.
Yet Rousseau’s keen senses could still detect the unyielding will pursuing him from the right.
The feeling Jinno gave him at that moment was peculiar.
It was like fire.
Not a raging blaze, however, but the undying flame left behind after a magnificent structure had burned to the ground.
Even if it was faint, even if it could no longer burn freely, when the moment came that demanded an explosion of power, it would drive itself to burn away every last bit of its strength.
Rousseau knew that the flame was already weak.
And yet he could still see its refusal to yield.
…
The final twenty meters.
Over the last twenty or thirty meters of a hundred-meter race, athletes were more or less gliding.
The energy in their bodies had already been exhausted. They continued forward on nothing but willpower and inertia.
Rousseau was already highly practiced at handling this phase.
His speed would inevitably drop. In summary, the technical stages of the hundred meters were explosion, acceleration, top speed, and maintaining form while losing that top speed. Rousseau had therefore grown accustomed to drawing out his remaining potential and letting himself settle smoothly into the finish. After all, he was already in first place…
Huh?
The pressure from behind on his right suddenly grew stronger again.
Rousseau was somewhat astonished.
Could Jinno still maintain top speed at this stage?
How was that possible?
…
Although Jinno’s remarkable performance in the latter half surprised even Rousseau, it could not make up for the disadvantage he had suffered at the beginning.
When Rousseau lowered his head and crossed the finish line, Jinno was still a full stride behind him, while the other competitors had already been left far behind.
…
It was only after Rousseau crossed the line that the earth-shaking cheers rang out once more.
The spectators from Hiroshima shouted Jinno’s name at the tops of their voices, but they could not propel him into first place.
…
Rousseau jogged slowly along the track, glancing around. No one seemed to be cheering for him.
Well, it did not matter. He had won, after all.
…
The results of the hundred-meter final at the Hiroshima Track and Field Open were as follows:
First place: Rousseau, 10.11 seconds.
Second place: Koji Jinno, 10.13 seconds.
Third place: Leon Ribéry, 10.18 seconds.
Fourth place: Tian Shiwei, 10.25 seconds.
Only the top four results were recorded, and only the top four received prize money. Tian Shiwei had taken fourth place and let out an excited “YEAH!”
Rousseau, meanwhile, stared at Jinno’s time: 10.13 seconds.
To run 10.13 on a rain-soaked track meant that under normal conditions, Jinno should probably have been capable of 10.10.
And he had claimed he could run only 10.18…
Tsk, tsk. Such little schemes.
…
The touring circuit held no formal awards ceremony, and the prize money would be transferred to the athletes’ accounts after the event. Thus, once the hundred-meter race ended, the competition was over.
But Rousseau saw Jinno walking toward him, so he waited for him at the edge of the track. After leaving the athletes’ waiting area, he found Ruan Mei waiting there as well.
“Congratulations. You’re very strong. No wonder you’re the man chosen by Little Mei,” Jinno said, offering Rousseau his congratulations.
When Ruan Mei translated the phrase “the man chosen by Little Mei,” her pretty face flushed crimson. She hurriedly added, “My uncle means that you’re the brand ambassador chosen by Lu King.”
My Ice-Cold Beauty Wife.
That was obviously what he meant. What else could it possibly mean? Rousseau thought it entirely reasonable.
“You’re incredible too. You kept chasing me so closely in the second half. How did you keep from losing too much speed?” Rousseau asked curiously.
In his eyes, Jinno’s greatest strength was his tenacity in the latter half.
His physical condition was clearly no longer that of a young man, yet his resilience was astonishing. How did he do it?
“It depends on willpower.” Jinno pointed at his head with his right hand. “Use your willpower to lock your speed in place.”
That sounded rather mystical, but Rousseau was interested.
“How do you lock it in?”
“Sit in meditation within stillness. Run within meditation,” Jinno replied.
“Impressive, impressive.”
That was all Rousseau could say. He had not understood a word.
…
“Ah—Grandpa!”
Ruan Mei suddenly looked toward the stands.
At the very front, beside the aisle, an old man stood unsteadily with a cane.
It was Jinji Mimura.
After Ruan Mei noticed him, Mimura turned and left. Rousseau had no idea what that was supposed to mean. The old man seemed rather mysterious.
“My adoptive father seems to have cared deeply about this race,” Jinno said, with Ruan Mei translating. “It’s a shame I disappointed him.”
“Adoptive father?” Rousseau noticed the form of address.
“Grandpa’s surname is Mimura, while my uncle’s is Jinno. Don’t you find that strange?” Ruan Mei explained quietly. “My uncle was adopted by Grandpa. He adopted him specifically to train an athlete who could become the fastest runner in all Japan.”
“In any case, the title of sprinting god now belongs to you.” Jinno inclined himself slightly toward Rousseau. “I can officially retire now.”
“Could you not?” Rousseau whispered to Ruan Mei.
Ruan Mei pleaded with him silently, her eyes soft, asking him not to say anything yet.
And so Rousseau accepted Jinno’s bow. Some spectators in the stands witnessed the scene, and a wave of sighs immediately swept through the crowd.
…
The bounty hunters watched Rousseau from a distance.
Although the gifts they had received from the Japanese athletes this time had allowed them to recover a considerable portion of their losses, the appearance of an opponent like Rousseau still made them feel threatened.
Especially Pete Geiger, who had been eliminated during the preliminary rounds because of Rousseau.
“If we run into this Asian athlete again, we’ll have to keep a close eye on him,” Lee said. “If necessary, we can take him out of the race.”
“Next time, I’ll cripple him on the track!” Pete Geiger swore.
That very night, however, Pete Geiger’s leg was broken.