Before Mejiro McQueen had even finished speaking, she unconsciously rose onto her toes, her soles twisting against the stands with a shrill scrape as her tone grew increasingly grave:
"At this stage, whether you're in the lead or running from behind no longer matters.
"From here on—"
After a pause, she stressed each word:
"Only a head-on collision of speed remains.
"Whoever can unleash their Final Burst to its absolute limit—will be the one smiling at the end."
The excitement vanished from Tokai Teio's face in an instant, replaced by a tide of calm.
Though she said nothing, tension began to show in the way she stared at Kitasan Black.
Her friend was right. The Lead Position—or any position, for that matter—only held meaning on a strategic level.
But now, the contest had narrowed to the Final Straight, a Final Straight that was already nearly halfway over. The role of every strategy and tactic had been reduced to a single extreme.
All that remained was a head-on collision—or rather—
"Final Burst..."
Staring intently at the black haired girl on the track, that single phrase surfaced in her mind.
Then, in the next second, several figures flooded into the edge of her vision, making her pupils tremble. She stared fixedly at those rapidly closing silhouettes, forgetting even to breathe.
It felt as though an invisible hand had clutched her heart tight, and even her unconscious murmur trembled:
"Just as I thought—they've caught up!"
The rain still slashed diagonally through the air, but the wind on the track had changed.
It no longer carried a chill. It had been churned scorching hot by several speeding figures.
The 300-meter marker glinted coldly through the rain. Kitasan Black had barely secured the Lead Position for two seconds when, in her senses, the "hunters" behind