One kilometer left. Faces passed by him in a blur. He couldn't see them. He couldn't see his opponent. He could only see one. The face of the one he had to leave behind. The face of the one who pushed him forward and shouted "Win!" The one he had always pushed.
He crashed. The line behind him. All he could see was the sky. And that one face. His teammates rushed to him. Held him up. Took off his gloves. Gave him water. They tried to move him. He refused. He was going to stay until he saw that one face. Until he could say he won.
Minutes passed. No sign of the face he wanted to see. Needed to see. There. A flash of white. A streak of yellow. A body dropping next to him. Panting, sweating. He looks up. The one face he needed to see. They won.
He holds up one finger. "Hajime." He cries.
Unexpected drabble? I was looking through a T2 blog and this vague style thing popped out!