The Relay Showdown: Midori’s Resolve

“Why should it always be the same faces on stage?” Midori asks her friends Nao and Shingo, her voice quiet but clear. The big school sports festival is close. It’s more trouble than fun for Midori. She can’t even win at tag. Still, here she is, signed up for the relay.

The students yell and cheer, socks on gym floor echoing. Each class wants victory, nothing less.

Does school really need these race day echoes every year? Maybe the answer lurks underneath the pressure, somewhere among battered old tennis shoes and sweat bands. Nao eyes the tryout list, grin wide like a cat’s. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t trip.” She nudges Midori, who just sighs. Are you nervous for class contests too?

Later, after sunset, Midori sits in her room, tracing finger lines across her starter’s baton. “Second to last again… How does Shingo make running look easy?” At dinner, her little brother Koji teases her, “The only thing you’re faster than is the last slice of cake!” He’s right, but Nao and Shingo want her on the team anyway.

Tryout day is a mess. Legs burn, arms swing, voice lost in wind and dust. Nao shouts, “Don’t look back! Just go!” As Midori runs, heart beating, she spots another class’s ace, Misato. Long and swift. No mistakes. “Misato’s team always wins,” someone whispers.

Shingo hands out headbands. “This is just a race. See it through.” Midori’s brows knot. For him, it means more. Her classmates lay plans, swapping stories, sizing up each class’s anchor.

Have you ever been scared to let your friends down?

The next day, reels with team meetings and drills. Midori watches Nao’s steady footwork, Shingo’s bounds, and a scratch on Misato’s knee. “Let’s practice alone,” Nao says, noticing doubt on Midori’s face. But despite trips and slow turns, Nao says, “You never stop trying. That’s enough.”

Pressure builds up fast. Posters up in every hall. Teachers clash about rules while crowd favorites have their names chanted between classes. Nobody gives somebody who stumbles their chance here – or do they?

By race week, it’s almost too much. Nao comes by one night, paint on her shirt, dumping cold melon soda on Midori’s workbook. “We just need five steady legs, not one winner. You’re the fourth. Shingo wants first; you only need to hold the hope.”

Scene cuts to each runner. Misato helps a junior with bandages. Shingo argues over who gets the anchor spot. Rain falls before sunset one day; soggy chalk lines slow down the racing feet. Later, after hours, Midori asks her pet hamster, “Should I quit?” Silently, it chews on a sunflower seed. The world always seems slower at night when doubts repeat.

Did you ever want to vanish when eyes are on you? Or does something spark up inside you in a crowd?

On festival day, ground hot with morning sun, the school divides into shouting, stomping groups. Kids paint faces with colors, some write classmates’ names on their shirts. Music jumps from speaker to speaker. Midori sees her name, smaller than most – but there – stitched on a band tied around her wrist.

The heat hangs heavy. Classes gather for start. Midori’s leg is second, sandwiched between two speedy friends. Misato stands ahead in her own lane, cool as ice, hair tied tight and eyes set on the finish flag. “Do your best. The rest is up to us, yeah?” Shingo bumps Midori’s fist.

No more running away.

Whistle blasts sharp. First legs dash – feet scrape gravel. Nao swoops up the lead, then it’s Midori’s turn. Wonders if she’ll trip. For half the lap, it’s even. Three voices urge, “Go! Go!” Cool wind smacks her face. Suddenly, a stumble. A brief scrape slows her way. Does she stop?

Her only skill just then is laughing at herself. Not fast, but not last yet. Clutching the baton, she passes it off on time. Cheers start low – thanks, Nao – but rise. Next runner boosts speed to catch Misato’s lead. Crowd noise stacks up, all eyes out front now.

Final stretch nears. Shingo’s turn comes, grabbing the baton and pumping hard. Classes are wild; even teachers lean over fences shouting. Shingo narrows the gap, Misato’s anchor only seconds ahead. Two more kids shout for their class at the top of their lungs. Posters wave. Feet thunder the finish.

Inches before end, Shingo dives. There’s a gasp, a silence, and not even Misato seems sure how it ended. Ref calls for review. Midori, still short of breath, realizes she didn’t fail her class, herself, or her friends – not if she showed up and passed it on.

Result banners haven’t gone up when the scene cuts out. Final points – still unknown. Midori looks up – running shoes covered in red dust, eyes squinting to see if luck was on her side. Credits roll as Koji appears at the fence, waving a crumpled drawing: “Midori, winner!!” Is she? The truth waits until next week…