Chapter 213: The Final Crown of the Classic Triple Crown
Saburo Kitajima and Makoto had long since fallen into extreme tension and excitement, utterly losing their usual composure.
Kitajima stomped his feet like a man decades younger, shouting himself hoarse, his words coming out broken and incomplete.
Makoto's face was flushed bright red. Beads of sweat rolled continuously down his forehead, and his eyes were opened so wide it was as if he were trying to carve out a path to victory for Kitasan Black with his gaze alone.
On the track—
REAL STEEL felt as though her body were a crumbling building on the verge of collapse. Every inch of muscle groaned under crushing fatigue, as if she might fall apart at any second.
Her breathing was ragged and heavy, her heart pounding wildly inside her chest.
Sweat poured like a breached dam, streaming down her cheeks and into her eyes, stinging painfully.
Yet her resolute gaze never wavered. She forced her eyes open wide, staring at the figure just ahead of her, so close she could almost touch it. Her eyes burned with determination and fire.
An indescribable tremor rose from her spine and spread through her entire body.
It was the exhilaration that welled up from the depths of her soul when facing a powerful opponent, like standing before a towering mountain amid a raging storm, her blood boiling at the chance to challenge it.
To clash head-on with Kitasan Black on this final straight, in this ultimate showdown that would decide the strongest of their generation—
This was exactly what she wanted.
Only like this could she truly savor the extreme tension and thrill, taste every ache in her muscles, every labored breath.
All of it—
Every bit of it was an indispensable part of this grand feast.
Duramente injured.
Satono Crown had withdrawn from races before.
Satono Rasen had hesitated noticeably before the race.
The other rivals all had their own doubts and complications…
It wasn't that she cared who her opponents were.
She only wanted to know whether, after coming this far through the Classic Triple Crown, only Kitasan Black remained—someone who could give her a truly satisfying duel.
Before the race, she believed that must be the case.
Whether it was that encounter with Duramente at the gym, or the casual talks she'd had afterward with the others, she'd noticed one thing:
The rival they valued most… always seemed to be Kitasan Black.
And she valued her too. She had been looking forward to this duel from the very start.
When she saw Kitasan Black surrounded earlier, she had almost thought she wouldn't get to experience it.
It wasn't arrogance, she simply knew that without too many obstacles, there were hardly any runners besides Kitasan Black who could withstand her closing kick.
Not even Kitasan Black could… or so she thought.
But now she realized she had been wrong.
Kitasan Black had not only broken out brilliantly and seized the leading position, but had also firmly controlled the pace of the entire race until now.
And even though her breathing was heavy, her steps sluggish, and her arm swing stiff, she still stubbornly blocked the path ahead, refusing to give even the slightest opening.
But if she wouldn't give an opportunity… so what?
She wanted an exhilarating race, but that wasn't all.
The joy of competition.
The glory of the championship.
The title of the strongest of the generation…
She wanted all of it!
And right now, there was only one obstacle standing in her way.
If that obstacle refused to give her a chance, then she would create one herself!!
'That's right…'
REAL STEEL muttered inwardly, her voice trembling from excitement and exhaustion.
'This… this is the race I wanted…'
'I'm glad you didn't run away like the others…'
'But you…'
'Don't think you can run away either!'
"Kitasan Black!!"
The last shout burst uncontrollably from her throat.
Her chest heaved violently as every ounce of strength in her body gathered into her legs, as if she were about to shatter the very earth beneath her feet.
Her muscles tightened like drawn bowstrings, veins bulging beneath her skin. Every inch of her body radiated blazing fighting spirit.
With a low growl, she drove her foot down hard. Her speed exploded in an instant, as if she were about to tear everything in front of her apart. With the resolve of someone burning their bridges, she charged straight at Kitasan Black with everything she had.
She tried to overtake her in one decisive move, to seize the glory of the championship, to claim everything for herself.
But the very moment she accelerated, an even more terrifying presence crashed toward her.
REAL STEEL's eyes widened in shock.
She saw Kitasan Black's body sink slightly, her back foot digging deep into the ground. Then, like an ancient beast awakening, she unleashed an astonishing surge of power.
Kitasan Black legs—heavy just moments ago, as if filled with lead—suddenly grew swift again.
Her arm swing, which had started to falter, widened and quickened.
Her breathing turned sharp and forceful. Each inhale seemed to suck in all the air around her, each exhale bursting out with a thunderous roar.
She actually still had this much stamina…? This kind of burst…?
Was she… a monster?!
REAL STEEL froze.
Like a drowning person suddenly breaking the surface and gulping air again, Kitasan Black inexplicably felt her body fill with strength.
No, not new strength.
It was the countless near-brutal overload training sessions during training camp.
It was the sweat shed on the track at dawn, when the first rays of sunlight had barely pushed away the chill of night.
It was the all-out sprints, collapsing from exhaustion again and again, only to struggle back to her feet and start the next round.
It was her Trainer and her senpai's patient gazes and encouraging words.
It was every sore muscle, every ragged breath, every race run with everything she had.
It was how, even the day before—and even the morning of—the Kikuka Sho, she hadn't relaxed for a second, still running the course, memorizing every rise, every turn, every straight.
All of those memories twisted together into a single thin, taut string.
One end tied to her current self, nearly drained of strength like a flicker before the light goes out.
The other end connected to the finish line—so close, yet seemingly so far away.
Pulled along by that invisible string, Kitasan Black felt her blood ignite.
Boiling heat surged through her senses, making the finish line blur.
Only that faint white strip remained—wavering in her hazy vision, yet burned indelibly into her heart.
At this moment, she had entered a completely unconscious state. Every movement came from instinct alone, from the purest desire for victory buried deep within her soul.
Her legs seemed to break free from the shackles of fatigue, alternating at an unbelievable speed.
Her once-heavy, sluggish steps now lashed forward like wind and rain.
Sweat poured down from her forehead, cheeks, and neck, soaking her signature racewear and sparkling in the sunlight.
But she didn't notice any of it. Her mind held only one thought—run toward that streak of white light.
Watching that figure explode forward like an arrow released from a bow, REAL STEEL's eyes filled with shock and unwillingness.
She had never imagined that, in such a state of exhaustion, Kitasan Black could still unleash such terrifying strength.
She chased desperately, but the distance between them only widened from that single burst.
In just that instant—
She watched helplessly as the figure ahead, like a bolt of black lightning, crossed the finish line before her.
At the same time, the commentator's hoarse shout tore through the stadium's roar:
"Across the line—!!"
"First place across the line!!"
"The one who claims this year's final crown of the Classic Triple Crown is… Kitasan Black——!!"
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