Like a bolt of lightning, Han Lee-Hyun sprinted ahead with all his might, quickly leaving his companions behind.
If we were to slow down the camera at this moment, we would see only Han Lee-Hyun at full speed, while the others appeared to be moving in slow motion.
In the blink of an eye, he had pulled ahead by two or three positions.
Now, the very Han Lee-Hyun who had previously left them behind was catching up again. The remaining four freshmen were livid!
They gritted their teeth, legs pumping furiously.
With toes digging into the ground, they transformed their bodies into javelins.
At this moment, it felt as if heavenly inspiration had struck. They employed every sprinting technique their coaches had taught them. If they had any legendary strength within them, now was the time to unleash it.
They chased after Han Lee-Hyun's figure with all their might!
Indeed, once they tapped into their power, their explosive speed was impressive.
Over the next ten meters, their distance from Han Lee-Hyun didn't increase.
Unfortunately, it wasn't closing either.
'Damn!'
'Stop!!'
Their pupils widened, eyes bloodshot.
These proud players, who had once been so confident, began to fall behind one by one.
The sudden surge of explosive energy was not limitless. The strength they had intended to unleash in the final sprint had exploded prematurely, throwing their entire rhythm off in the second half.
With rhythm disrupted, their breaths became ragged, their strides messy…
The grim consequences were all too predictable.
In the blink of an eye, they had fallen far behind.
By the time Han Lee-Hyun crossed the finish line, the freshmen who had passed him before were now trailing by more than ten, nearly twenty meters.
The results were dismal.
"This guy runs so fast!"
"I see, so he had his strong point too."
"At least he is good at something."
The surrounding athletes whispered among themselves.
Unconsciously, their tone had shifted.
"You idiots!"
Sawamura ignored Lee-Hyun, who had finished first and instead focused on the remaining four.
Had they really let themselves be led by the opponent? Were they genuinely foolish, or just impulsive?
Typically, in a 100-meter race, one would sprint with all their strength to the end.
However, trained athletes know this critical rule: even in a 100-meter sprint, maintaining rhythm is essential.
If you don't control your rhythm well, your results could be lackluster.
Athletes who have undergone systematic training can elevate their speed to its peak in a shorter time. Yet sustaining that peak speed over 100 meters is not easy.
Generally, after running 60 or 70 meters, many experience fatigue, making it impossible to accelerate further…
Thus, the runner who starts strong may not necessarily be the fastest. Continuous training is necessary to adjust one's rhythm.
Han Lee-Hyun was a classic amateur, employing a typical amateur running style. Yet the others were all systematically trained athletes, and they had allowed one person to lead them off rhythm.
It was unimaginable.
'That said, this kid was indeed fast!'
'I wasn't wrong, huh.'
Disrupting the rhythm of several trained athletes was no small feat.
"What are their times?" Sawamura asked the recorder in charge of tracking results.
The recorder looked as if he were constipated.
"What's wrong?"
"I may have accidentally pressed the button too early!"
Sawamura took the stopwatch from the recorder's hand and, after glancing at the readout, found himself momentarily lost for words.
10.95 seconds!
It had to be a mistake.
Fingers gripping the stopwatch, it was difficult to determine when errors would occur.
What about the others?
He flipped through the records of the remaining four.
12 seconds 89!
12 seconds 93!
13 seconds 21!
13 seconds 30!!
Clearly, these four had been thrown off their rhythm, and it was a catastrophic disruption.
Overall, their performances were not impressive.
In a 100-meter sprint, a time under 13 seconds would typically earn full marks.
That's an exceptional result.
Not to mention first-year high school students—even third-year students often struggle to achieve such times.
These individuals managed to achieve these results, indicating their physical fitness was not lacking.
However, based on Seidou High School's admissions standards, being merely average was insufficient; true excellence was required!
From the previous tests, it was evident that failing to run under 12.5 seconds would make it difficult to become a regular team member.
Of course, this didn't mean that those who couldn't run under 12.5 seconds were excluded altogether, as the tests weren't limited to just this one.
But the overall average performance generally hovered around that level.
"Gather those idiots and have them run again!"
Han Lee-Hyun's performance was outstanding. In Sawamura's view, he should have run in under 12 seconds.
His speed was remarkable.
The other foolish athletes showed potential; they could at least manage a slightly above-average performance.
But being led astray by Han Lee-Hyun had rendered them useless.
In the spirit of not missing out on any talent, Sawamura gave them another chance.
"Run again?"
When Han Lee-Hyun heard this command, he was bewildered.
Although he had made a mistake just now, he should have still qualified, right?
Even if he didn't finish first, surely he was at least in the top three among all the freshmen, right?
Why make him run again?
"The recorder made a mistake just now; you need to run again."
Sawamura pointed at the stopwatch in his hand, signaling for Han Lee-Hyun to run once more.
The two exchanged little verbal communication, but Han Lee-Hyun quickly understood what Sawamura meant.
'This Sunbae is truly a great guy!' (Sunbae = Senpai in Korean)
Not only was he helpful, but he seemed to read Han Lee-Hyun's thoughts as well. Just a couple of simple gestures conveyed everything he meant.
Unbeknownst to him, Han Lee-Hyun had indeed grasped the essence of the situation.
Sawamura may not have had the sharpest mind, but his gestures were clear and straightforward—this was a skill honed from years of living abroad.
His intelligence may not have been top-notch, but even after two years, he could stumble through basic English communication.
In the past, he had relied heavily on gestures.
How could he convey his meaning swiftly with simple gestures? Sawamura was adept at it.
This skill came from countless experiences of being misunderstood.
After receiving the order, the five began a new round of testing after resting for a few minutes.
"Deduct 0.2 seconds from their recorded times!" Sawamura instructed the recorder beside him.
The continuous 100-meter tests posed a significant endurance challenge for the athletes.
Though 100 meters may not seem long, it didn't mean the energy expenditure was minimal. Sustaining maximum effort for over ten seconds was a formidable test of an athlete's endurance and physique.
At that moment, Takashima Rei rushed over, looking curiously at Sawamura.
"Why are they running again?"
This woman was much colder than Sawamura. While those fools were at fault, it was their own doing.
Sawamura shrugged helplessly and handed the stopwatch to Rei.
Once Takashima saw the numbers displayed, she immediately understood.
Han Lee-Hyun, who had finished first, had run in 11 seconds.
That was, of course, impossible.
However, this couldn't be easily conveyed. Once the results were announced, the other four athletes would likely question it.
In that case, it was better to let them run again.
Despite the physical toll of the first run, given Han Lee-Hyun's previous performance, he should still achieve a good result.
This way, others could be convinced too.
"Then let's try again!"
Though Takashima and Sawamura shared the same belief that the recorder had made an error, an unsettling thought lingered in her mind.
'What if that previous time recorded was not a mistake?'
With that thought, she suddenly looked at Sawamura with anticipation.
Sawamura nodded in understanding; he grasped her unspoken concerns.
Seidou High School had indeed struck gold.
Even if Han Lee-Hyun had no baseball talent at all, relying solely on his speed could still bring home a national championship for Seidou High School.
Of course, that championship wouldn't be in Koshien but in track and field!
"I wonder if a player can represent two clubs in national competitions at the same time?"
"Don't think about it. Unless we're eliminated, he won't have the time. Of course, if he doesn't make the first string, that's another matter."
With this, Takashima felt a surge of excitement.
Given the talent Han Lee-Hyun had displayed, it was hard to say whether he could become a mainstay for Seidou High School, but this summer seemed promising, right?
Just loan him to the track and field team to secure a national championship.
It felt like a bad deal.
'How could we extort them later?'
In her mind, Takashima was turning over ideas.
Sawamura could see her intentions clearly.
"Once you give him to the track and field team, can you get him back?"
"Of course!"
When she spoke, Takashima radiated confidence.
"It's not like they can't do it!"
As the daughter of the Takashima's group Chairman, she indeed had that confidence.
"Let's see how it goes; there's a high chance that score was recorded incorrectly."
For runners, it's all a matter of a moment.
But could Han Lee-Hyun really run in 11 seconds? That was certainly not a small feat.
It was crucial for both the school and the baseball team.
Due to significant anomalies in the results of the last group, they had no choice but to retest at the suggestion of Sawamura.
Having just completed the 100-meter test, they were still out of breath when they had to go through it again.
The few guys who ran alongside Han Lee-Hyun looked at him with a mix of awe and disbelief.
To them, this guy was just a clueless rookie.
He clearly seemed to have no professional training. Even if he wasn't just starting to learn baseball, he must not have received any formal training before.
Had they really lost to him?
Just thinking about it left those who felt confident in their middle school days feeling utterly helpless.
"Don't worry about others. Keep your own rhythm and show your results. If you run like you just did, then this will be your result," Sawamura said, tapping his notebook with a pen while addressing the four contestants.
His demeanor earned unanimous praise from the underclassmen.
"As expected of Sawamura-senpai!"
At that moment, Takuma had clearly become a little fanboy of Sawamura.
Long before, his ears had been filled with various legends of the great Sawamura.
He never expected that when they finally met, Sawamura would be so friendly and charismatic.
"Stop with that starstruck look, it doesn't suit you," said the wolf boy beside him coldly.
Takuma blushed.
"Aren't you also interested in Sawamura-senpai?"
"Good for you, still in the mood to care about gossip. Haven't you noticed your rival has appeared?"
Indifferently, Takuma rubbed his nose.
"He's not necessarily faster than me!"
Okumura glanced thoughtfully at Sawamura, who was focused on the stopwatch.
He felt something extraordinary must have happened just now.
Sawamura-senpai wouldn't have suggested a retest if it was just because those idiots got thrown off rhythm.
The retest began.
At the finish line, three people were holding stopwatches: the recorder, Sawamura Eijun, and Takashima Rei.
The referee was feeling the pressure as he raised the starting gun and called for them to prepare.
Before he could fire the starting gun, the four players dashed off.
"False start, that doesn't count!"
The angry referee pulled each of them back, forcing them to reset.
"Haha!!"
Takuma was utterly amused.
Okumura, however, looked thoughtfully at the referee.
Those four players had indeed false-started, but they must have timed their calculations correctly in their heads.
The real issue lay with the referee.
When he called for the start just now, his timing was noticeably slower than before.
'Was it because he was too tense?'
That only added to the sense of impending storm!
"Prepare…"
Bang!!!
As soon as the gun fired, the five players at the starting line sprang into action almost simultaneously.
But the first to bolt out was not any of the previous four; it was Han Lee-Hyun!
As soon as the referee shouted "prepare," his legs had already sprung into action.
When the signal gun fired, he surged from a standstill to an incredible speed.
He was like a cheetah hunting its prey, with a burst of speed that left a phantom in its wake.
By the time the others had straightened up, Han Lee-Hyun had already pulled ahead, leaving the others by at least three positions—about one meter.
"Wow!"
"How fast!!!"
This was completely different from before. This time, Han Lee-Hyun wasn't overtaking anyone because he had been in the lead from the start.
His legs moved like they were wheels, remarkably agile.
His strides weren't overly long; he took five steps to cover the distance that took the other players four steps.
In other words, he took one extra step compared to the others to cover the same distance.
Yet his stepping frequency was incredibly fast as if he had activated a speed-boosting cheat.
While others covered two strides, he managed three.
It was clear to the naked eye that the gap between him and the remaining four players was continuously widening.
Throughout the next 100 meters, that distance only increased.
The three individuals at the finish line were extremely attentive.
They monitored Han Lee-Hyun's speed while keeping an eye on the times recorded on their stopwatches.
'Closer!'
'Closer!'
8 seconds!
9 seconds!!!
Takashima Rei's face had a barely contained smile.
It felt as if she were witnessing the rising of a star.
For a moment, she even thought that this young boy might break the world record.
Snap!
Han Lee-Hyun's foot thundered over the 100-meter finish line.
Almost simultaneously, Sawamura, Takashima, and the recorder pressed pause.
At that moment, the remaining four players were lagging behind Han Lee-Hyun by a full 20 meters.
This time, their rhythm hadn't been disrupted.
But the gap between the two sides had not narrowed in the slightest.
The results were read backward, one by one.
12.86 seconds!
12.79 seconds!
12.75 seconds!
12.70 seconds!!!
These four players all had a solid foundation. According to the rules set by Sawamura, after deducting 0.2 seconds, their times would generally place them in the middle to upper tier.
In other words, they were fully qualified to be selected as regular members.
Of course, the specifics would still depend on their previous pitching results and subsequent basic tests.
Here, their high school achievements held no relevance.
That said, it wasn't entirely useless. Those who truly excelled were already being specially recruited by Seidou High School.
Players who hadn't been specially recruited might think they had some strength, but when it came to performance, they were probably quite average.
Thus, the criteria for distinguishing between members and observers was straightforward.
It all hinged on test results.
Of course, this wasn't set in stone.
Reassessments would occur from time to time.
If one believed that getting into Seidou High School's baseball club meant securing a stable future, then they were gravely mistaken.
In times of insufficient numbers, anyone who applied would surely be accepted by the baseball club.
Now that so many people were signing up, the baseball department had to make choices since they couldn't accommodate everyone.
Finally, and most importantly.
When Sawamura revealed the final result, he was left dumbfounded.
Looking up, he saw the exact same expression on Takashima and the recorder.
Without needing to ask, Sawamura Eijun understood that he hadn't miscalculated; his eyes weren't deceiving him.
This time, Seidou High School had truly recruited a gem.
'But why would such a talent come to Japan to learn baseball?'
'Isn't that unreasonable?'
'Could it be that there are truly so many talents abroad that Han Lee-Hyun had no place to fit in?'
It all seemed improbable!
"What are your scores?"
Even though Takashima Rei was holding the stopwatch, her voice revealed something was clearly off.
The recorder opened his mouth, hesitated, and then fell silent.
He wanted to say he must have misread it again.
But with Sawamura and Takashima recording simultaneously, even if he himself could make mistakes, it was unlikely all three would.
"10.70 seconds!"
The recorder was the first to announce a number.
Takashima nodded but didn't read the time on her stopwatch.
"10.72 seconds!"
Then both turned their gaze toward Sawamura.
Sawamura's voice was filled with disbelief.
"10.67 seconds!"
When timing with a stopwatch, each person's vision and reaction speed vary, leading to inevitable discrepancies.
Even among professionals, these errors persist.
It was clear from the times on the stopwatches that the reactions of the three who timed Han Lee-Hyun varied.
Sawamura Eijun's reaction was undoubtedly the quickest; the recorder and Takashima Rei were a bit slower.
However, none of that mattered; what mattered was the result.
Han Lee-Hyun had recorded a time that could shake the entire Seidou High School.
If this result were revealed, it wouldn't just be Seidou High School that was shocked.
How many high school students nationwide can run under 11 seconds?
Sawamura truly wasn't sure.
After all, there are always hidden talents in a big forest. Some professionally trained track and field athletes might not even be worse than those at the national level.
Yet Sawamura could confidently say that among all those who hadn't undergone formal training, Han Lee-Hyun was definitely the fastest in this age group.
It's hard to imagine what this guy could achieve once he received proper training.
If nurtured properly, he could very well win a medal on the Olympic stage in the 100 meters.
As his thoughts spiraled further, they became increasingly daunting.
Shaking his head, Sawamura forced himself to regain his composure.
He realized he had been overthinking.
Han Lee-Hyun's speed was indeed impressive, but he was still a full second away from the current champion.
It doesn't guarantee success as a sprinter.
Nonetheless, one thing is certain: Seidou really struck gold this time.
What's the record for high school track events?
The highest record for the 100 meters is supposedly 10.8 seconds, right?
Han Lee-Hyun could break the record just by showing up without training.
...