When an Oblivious Handsome Older Man Went Back in Time and Was Building Harlem

A hot, sunny day. Today is practice for the sports festival. Since the incident with Nitta-san the other day, both inside and outside the school have been quite chaotic, but it seems the school events will go on without a hitch. Today is practice for the class relay race. I’m neither the first runner nor the anchor. I’m relatively fast, so I’m third from the last, but if you ask me if there’s any tension, I don’t think so.

The first runner in the relay is none other than Midori. I remember that when I was in high school, the person from the track team was the first runner. I focus on the relay, worried that my regained memories might have such small impacts. Apparently, Midori’s time in the short distance was the second fastest in the class. Personally, I think endurance is more important than time, so honestly, I don’t care much about time.

“Alright! I’ll be the first one to step up!”

“Don’t get so pumped up that you fall.”

I send a light encouragement to Midori and line up. With ten classes, the excitement is extraordinary, and it’s always buzzing. The gym teacher warns us to be quiet, but these energetic high school students won’t stay silent. I don’t remember that feeling anymore since I’ve already passed that stage, but during that time, we were always having fun, making noise, and laughing no matter what happened.

The PE teacher, having given up on keeping quiet, lines up the first runner at the starting line. The crowd falls silent to watch the start, and a slight tension runs through the air.

“On your marks… get set…”

The whistle blows, and the first runner bursts out with vigor. A feeling of mixed exhilaration and tension washes over me, and my heart starts to beat a little faster.

Midori, who had boasted about being in the front, was indeed in the front as he had declared, running leisurely by himself. He passed the baton to the next runner’s right hand, and the baton pass went smoothly. The crowd was cheering with shouts of “Go!” and “Do your best!” to hype up the atmosphere.

On the other hand, I couldn’t keep up with the atmosphere here. At times, I found myself conflicted about whether it was okay for an old man like me to be in this place. Even now, it’s the same. Midori is a pure high school student, so it’s fine for him to be the first runner, but if I were the first, it would mean an old man would be stealing the spotlight from the students.

(No, living this life is also some kind of mission.)

I decided to focus on the task at hand. There are two more people before it’s my turn. My class, Group 5, is currently in second place. We’re going back and forth with the first-place class, overtaking and being overtaken. At this rate, we might even have a shot in first place. The classmate in front of me runs past me, and finally, they stand at the starting line. The classmate ahead of me overtakes the first-place Group 4 and comes towards me.

“Go!”

My turn came, and I successfully passed the baton. With cheers from my classmates like “Takai—! Go—! Do your best—!”, I made a strong start. I focused solely on running, determined to widen the gap with the second place. The moment of cutting through the wind felt amazing. As I rounded the curve, I signaled and passed the baton to the next runner.

“Hah, hah.”

I lined up in my class’s row and watched the final runner, the anchor, finish the race. There was about a 10-meter gap between the second-place team and the fourth team, and the anchor of the fifth team, who started in a confident manner, crossed the finish line in first place.

The moment they crossed the finish line, Group 5 got extraordinarily excited, and the girls who were watching while standing were jumping up and down with joy. I thought, “This isn’t even the sports festival yet,” but since they looked like they were having fun, I decided to watch.

Thinking that the second-year high school sports festival would definitely be fun as well, I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift toward the sports festival.