[The Zephyr And The Phoenix] by WALKER & Otkrlj - Blue Strokes

April 20th. The day of the Junior High Track-and-field national championship. Normally, it would be held in an appropriate university’s stadium, but due to some unfortunate circumstances, it was instead held at my school, Akiyama Junior High. The reason for it was because our school had a representative attending said competition, so it was an honor for the school.

That competitor, however, was not me. I was just like any other student that day, elated to get a day off.

I didn’t plan to come to school on that day. However, I had made a blunder of mistaking the official date, so when I came to school thinking that there would just be a regular study session, the whole student body had already gathered in the nearby stadium for the competition.

I could go home right then and there, but I had nothing to do even if I went home. And so, I decided to join the rest of the student body to see what the contest was all about.

When I came to the scene, every stand was already packed with people. And it wasn’t just the students from all sorts of schools in the country that had come to this place – everywhere I saw was also filled with news reporters, cameramen, paparazzies, all kinds of mass media entertainment that one could think of.

I did not know why something like a junior high-level competition was enough to spark so much of an interest. And as I took a look at the contestant board – where they would put in all of the competitors' names, I did not spot anything.

I could only see one odd thing about some of the contestants, and it was their names. One of them had the characters for “zephyr” – Soyokaze. Another had their name written only in Katakana. But other than that, I couldn’t figure out anything else.

I did not have the time nor luxury to think for long, however, as the booming voice of the announcer over the megaphone had already teared through the air. And the only poor soul unfortunate enough to stand too close to the sound was none other than me.

On the field, the runners were lining up to start the first main event – the one-hundred-meter dash. There were around twenty contestants in total, but I could tell that all of the cameras and reporters were all having their eyes on a single one, or rather, two people.

One was the one standing on the first place starting line, wearing number three on his shirt. A tall boy with toned muscles perfect for running, especially around the thighs. His neon-green hair and matching clothing made him stand out among everyone else.

The other one was slightly above average in terms of height, standing right next to the first boy. As he wore the number two, it wasn’t a surprise to see them being where they were. What caught my attention, however, was his pure-white hair, like a snowy pasture on a freezing winter day.

I had heard about the rumor before. There was a certain pair of twins that had broken records after records in Kurayuki Junior High. The older brother was an academic genius, while the younger brother was an athletic sensation. If the rumor was true, then the contestant wearing number two would be him – the younger one.

The contestants prepared themselves in their starting positions. Number three lowered his body and put his hands on the ground. His right foot was placed forward, while his left was in the back, with the knee lowered. It was a classic starting position, well-known enough for even a beginner such as myself to understand. Everyone else also went into the same pose.

Everyone, except number two.

His approach to the game was unlike everyone else on the field. While everyone kneeled, he stood straight. While everyone put their hands to the ground, his hands were only slightly bent forward and backward. And while everyone raised their lower halves when the race was about to start, he only leaned his body forward.

The signaling gun was fired, and the race started.

As I was on near the top of the stand, I did not experience any unpleasantry in the air. However, even so, I could still visibly see the clouds of dust being kicked up from the quaking steps of the fierce competition. Everyone was running as if their lives depended on it, for the ultimate prize of being the best in the nation.

Their determination was best shown in number three. His steps were faster than anyone else. His reach was longer than anyone else. But most of all… his face was the tensest out of everyone else. It was as if the young boy wasn’t running in a simple tournament, but as if he was putting his entire life on the line, and the track that he was on was a real, genuine battle field.

And yet, he was not the one in the first spot.

That coveted place was occupied by number two, the gifted younger twin of the rumors. If number three was the embodiment of everyone else’s feelings, dreams and aspirations on the track, then number two was everything that went against it.

He was not breaking a sweat. His steps were lazy. His arm swings were unmotivated. And yet, despite all of that, he was the one that was leading everyone else by a wide margin.

The other contestants, seeing the gap in their skills, had already begun to give up. One after one, they slowed down. One after one, they stopped on their tracks. The competition that they were fighting blood, sweat and tears didn’t matter anymore, all because of a presence that they could never hope to defeat.

All, except one.

Number three, contrary to the rest, was still wearing a face that could kill. Even when the gap between them grew larger, he kept on running ahead as if it was the last thing that he would do. Although I was standing on the stands above, I could see his teeth gritting in frustration. The boy was ready to bet his entire life into this one race.

His steps grew stronger. His swings grew faster. Sweat poured from his body like a flood. Even if he was the only one left running, the dust storm on the field only grew more intense. I could even feel the rummaging of the ground from above, as if the very earth had joined forces with him to topple a god.

However, no matter how hard he tried, the gap between them never shrank. It would only grow bigger with each passing second. Like a poor suitor fruitlessly chasing the legendary huntress, number three was teased with a favorable result, but what awaited him on the track was only anger, frustration, regret… and acceptance. Acceptance to the fact that he could not compete against the godly being.

Unlike the others, however, even when he had accepted his fate to be the loser, the boy kept on running. Despite everything, he grew even faster, but the fierce look in his eyes was no more. On his face instead was a bright grin filled with joy, and a determined look to finish what he had started.

In the end, what was inevitable had to come. Number two beat everyone else with time to spare, and as the white-haired boy crossed the finish line, the entire stadium erupted in cheers. The announcer called out a new national record being achieved by a mere thirteen-year-old, and immediately, every reporter, journalist, cameraman and the likes rushed down the stadium to grab their scoop of the century.

The winner, however, never showed any sort of emotion. He was smiling, but even I could tell that the smile was forced and stiff. It was clear that he did not want to be there.

As I made my way to the exit, however, a booming voice sounded. It was not towards me, but rather the moody champion – Kuroshi Shiraku. The runner-up had called him out, declaring his name – not Soyokaze, but Mikaza Hayato, and challenging the champion to another match one day.

Only at that moment did a genuine smile escaped Shiraku’s face. And at that moment, I couldn’t help but form a smile as well, for I knew that I had just witnessed a fated rivalry that would continue to take place for years to come.