My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong As Expected

Page 358

At the time, I chose to wait until I actually encountered a problem before worrying about it, while Hayama gave a gentle smile and said that he was just joking, leaving both of us with an ambiguous answer.

This time might be the same. Although the developments may differ, the conclusion of "not making a choice" will remain unchanged.

So, his answer is actually quite obvious.

Pick up the phone that was lying on the futon table.

With only a handful of names in my contacts, I quickly found the person I needed to contact, stood up, and dialed the number.

A ringing sound began coming from the receiver.

While waiting for the call to connect, the thought of hanging up crossed my mind several times. I didn't know if asking the other person for such a favor was a good idea; he might dislike or look down on me because of it.

But besides that, I couldn't think of any other answer that seemed like an answer. So in the end, this was still the only choice.

After a long pause, the other party finally answered the phone and spoke cautiously.

"……Hello?"

"It's me. Sorry to call you at this hour."

The person on the other end of the microphone—Totsuka Saika—answered with great enthusiasm:

Not at all. I'm a little surprised you rarely call.

I think so too. This might be the first time we've had a proper phone conversation. However, what follows will probably surprise him even more.

I secretly exhaled and bowed my head to Totsuka, who couldn't see this side of the microphone.

"...There's something I'd like to ask you."

× × ×

The day after the phone call with Totsuka was sunny, with only a cold wind occasionally blowing.

The marathon started at the park. First and second-year boys and girls gathered there. The boys ran along the seaside promenade after the start, and turned back after reaching the Mihama Bridge.

This journey is quite long. How long? This long! Oh well, what can I say? I'm just terrible at math. Any number larger than three is just a huge pile of numbers to me.

It doesn't matter. No matter how far the distance is, it won't affect what I'm doing.

Upon hearing the command to form a team, everyone lined up behind the white line at the starting point.

I wriggled like an eel to squeeze into the front row, but the people there readily gave up their seats. What's going on? Am I really as slippery as an eel?

The marathon is just an on-campus event, so there's no grand spectacle, and the rankings won't affect the results. Besides, everyone was reluctantly dragged here in this cold weather; there are probably very few people who are truly focused on getting a good ranking.

Except for one person.

Hayama is expected to retain his championship title, and he has no choice but to take first place, so there is no room for him to slack off.

He was at the very front of the line, a few people behind me. If we were to use a racing analogy, it would be "pole position."

He started doing stretching exercises to warm up his body, and the girls watching nearby immediately cheered.

The women's group started 30 minutes after the men's group. During this time, they could cheer for the men and watch the race.

Hayama simply waved in response to the excited screams of the girl ahead. A few steps away, Miura appeared.

Compared to the girls around her, Miura seemed much more subdued, glancing at Hayama intentionally or unintentionally. Standing next to her were Ebina and Yuihama, and a step to the side was Yukinoshita.

At that moment, Isshiki also came over.

She noticed Miura and bowed slightly in greeting, to which Miura nodded in return. Isshiki looked back and forth between Miura and Hayama, then let out a smug laugh.

Then, she put her hand to her mouth and shouted:

"Go Hayama-senpai! Oh, senpai, come on too!"

Hayama waved to Isshiki with a wry smile. Meanwhile, Keibu, standing a short distance away, responded with a bright and cheerful expression.

"oh--"

"Ah, I wasn't talking to Senior Hubu."

Isshiki waved his hand, as if to say, "How could I possibly cheer you on?" Miura watched silently, finally making up his mind, taking a deep breath and exhaling along with the sound:

"Hayabusa, Hayato... Go, go!"

Her voice wasn't loud, almost drowned out by the cheers of the other girls. But Hayama still silently raised his hand and gave her a calm smile.

Miura was captivated by his smile and slowly nodded, forgetting even to utter a sound.

Isshiki watched their interaction with satisfaction, then turned his head away again.

"...Good luck, senior too!"

This time, it seemed like she was talking to me.

Oh, I'll do my best... But why does she insist on not calling me by my name... Could it be that she can't remember? At that moment, Yuihama, who had been staring blankly at Isshiki, took a step forward.

She waved to cheer me on as well.

"Go, keep going!"

Yuihama's voice was noticeably weaker than Isshiki's, probably because she was mindful of her surroundings, but it still reached my ears. Thank goodness, she didn't call out my name... Her thoughtfulness at a time like this really made me feel bad.

I felt grateful and casually raised my hand in response, but she clenched her fist tightly to show me. Then, I met the gaze of Yukinoshita, who was standing next to her.

She remained silent beneath the snow, merely nodding slightly. Her lips moved almost imperceptibly, but no sound came through.

I don't know if she said anything, or even if she was talking to me at all.

However, I am still motivated.

Since that's the case, let's go...

I continued pushing my way forward, reaching the very front of the starting line, where I was alongside Ye Shan. Ye Shan didn't even glance at me; he kept his eyes fixed on the front.

I rotate my shoulder, step forward with one leg, and stretch my ankle.

Once everything was ready, someone suddenly patted me on the shoulder.

Turning around, I saw Totsuka in his leotard. His slender legs protruded from the top of his shorts, moving incessantly and trembling as if from cold. He suppressed his trembling and smiled at me:

"Hachiman, let's do our best!"

"Okay...please help me."

There were quite a few people near the starting line, and if I ducked down now, I'd definitely bump into someone. But I still bowed and thanked Totsuka. I'd asked him for a favor on the phone last night; it wasn't exactly a bad thing, but it wasn't something to be praised either. To be honest, I struggled with asking him for help myself.

Nevertheless, Totsuka clenched his fists and placed them in front of his chest, mustered his spirits, and nodded vigorously.

"Hmm, leave it to me! It's just that people might not accept this kind of behavior..."

He said this while glancing at the students to his left and right, then looking at the people behind him. There stood his fellow tennis club members.

"You don't need to make it too obvious, just be mindful at all times. You don't need to force yourself."

I patted him on the shoulder, then immediately worried about whether my hands were sweaty, and quickly pulled my hand away. No, no, the more I thought about it, the sweatier my palms would become, making my hands even more slippery…

During elementary school field trips, the teacher always made the boys hold hands with the girls, which made me disliked because of my sweaty hands and earned me the nickname "Frog-like." Sigh, those unpleasant memories resurface, bringing a touch of sadness…

Fortunately, the weather is cold now, so my palms don't sweat much. The sea breeze slaps my cheeks, causing a stinging sensation.

In an instant, the wind stopped.

"Oh, Hachiman, you're here... Hmm, is Totsuka here too?"

"Ah, Zaimokuza-kun."

The timber frame pushed through the crowd and appeared before us. Thankfully, its massive body blocked the wind, keeping us warm.

"Hachiman, let's run together!"

"No way... Oh, right. There's something I'd like to ask you for help with."

"Oh?"

The lumber mount tilted its head and made a strange sound. I didn't want anyone else to hear what I was about to say, so I moved a little closer... Hey, why is this guy all over me so warm and uncomfortable?

After I whispered the molting in the woodworker's ear, he immediately started hissing.

"Hmm... I understand what you're trying to do. But I don't want to attract too much attention, and I don't want to overwork myself..."

"...Okay, I think so too."

This request will place a heavy burden on the Woodworker. Considering his athleticism and mental fortitude, I can understand that he won't agree easily. Even if our positions were reversed today, I would probably refuse outright as well.

The timber stand is like a tattered rag; you use it and throw it away without feeling any remorse. That's why I tried asking. However, the timber stand is also a living, breathing person; even if I don't feel remorse, it certainly will.

"Um—I'm sorry, it was my fault. Forget about it, don't take it to heart."

Unexpectedly, the woodcutter crossed his arms, raised his shoulders, and looked up at the sky, saying:

"...I'll buy you a bowl of Narita-ya's super oily ramen and the deal is done."

"Are you sure?"

He looked helpless and let out a heavy sigh.

"To see what is right and not do it is cowardice—I can't stand it, I really can't do anything with you..."

That sounds incredibly annoying… Even though I was the one who asked first, I still want to say, "This is so irritating!" I rolled my eyes at the woodworker, who cautiously looked around and said in a low voice:

"Let me make this clear first: I'll follow your instructions, but there are limits! I don't want people talking behind my back or posting it online for publicity! If anything goes wrong, I'll implicate you as the mastermind to protect myself!"

At the height of his excitement, he pointed forcefully at me. I couldn't help but give a wry smile. Indeed, a timber seat is only a timber seat if it's utterly trash! Truly trash! Trash to the point of being stylish!

"No problem, whatever you like. Thanks in advance. I'll also throw in a cream topping for your ramen."

"Heh, this is just in time to make up for the calories I burned."

No, no, no. Considering the distance of today's marathon, there's no way you could offset the calories from the ramen you ate. I can only tell you: impossible.

I thanked Totsuka and Zaimokuza again, and looked at Hayama standing in front of the white line.

Hayama was chatting with the Minister of Revenue nearby. He noticed my gaze and gave me a faint smile, as if asking what was wrong.

I shook my head and turned my head forward.

Even without specifically looking at the clock in the park, I knew the game was about to start.

The chatter of the boys gathered behind him and the cheers of the girls nearby gradually quieted down.

After the scene calmed down, someone seemed to have been waiting for this moment, and slowly walked to the white line at the front.

"Is everyone ready?"

Teacher Hiratsuka took his position and raised the signal gun into the air.

Why is it her turn this time...? Usually, isn't it the PE teacher's job to fire the starting gun? Oh dear, this person is really something—trying to do something attention-grabbing again—or is she just trying to play with the flare gun?

The teacher gripped the trigger with one hand and covered his ear with the other. The boys leaned forward, while the girls on the sidelines held their breath and watched silently.

After a few seconds, the teacher gave the command—

"On your marks. Get set—"

Bang—a gunshot rang out.

Everyone sprang out of the starting line like springs.

The first part of the journey was a warm-up phase. I wasn't aiming to be fast; my only goal was not to fall behind Hayama.

In contrast, most people sprint at full speed from the start, running quickly past on the left and right sides.

The reason I rushed out was to run towards the constant flashes of light from the cameras ahead—you read that right. Apparently, it was for making graduation yearbooks or some other reason I don't know; there are photographers at the marathon.

There are so many brain-dead guys scrambling to get in the shot, using up all their energy in the first few dozen meters. As long as they get photographed, they can brag to others later, "Look, I was in the lead the whole time!" Guys are such idiots.

These guys, who sprinted like madmen from the start, soon ran out of energy.

Therefore, the real battle begins after leaving the park and entering the trail.

Those who had been rushing to be the first to offer incense were now noticeably slower. I nimbly dodged past them and spoke to the wood-carving stand:

"I'll leave it to you."

"Huff, huff... Hmm? Oh, okay!"

He was already panting heavily, but as soon as he heard my instruction, he immediately picked up speed again. But I still have to say, a lumberjack is still a lumberjack; you can't expect him to run very fast.

Hayama and I quickly rose to the lead, one after the other. Zaimokuza also kept whirring and trying to catch up.

We maintained this pace and ran out of the park, turning onto the trail on our right.

Even when he got serious, the distance of a few hundred meters seemed to be reaching its limit. He gradually fell behind, and then, just before leaving the park, the road narrowed to its narrowest point, causing him to slow down drastically.