The workshop shutter was already halfway open when Daichi pulled into the side lot. His 3000GT rolled to a stop beside Haruka's Corolla, engine ticking softly as it cooled. Through the opening, he could see the familiar shapes—toolboxes, the EK9 still on stands, someone moving in the back. The sounds of work: an impact wrench, voices, the hiss of an air compressor.
Normal.
But Daichi didn't feel normal.
He stepped out of the car, locked it, and walked toward the entrance. The morning air was cool, crisp, carrying the faint smell of oil and metal that every workshop wore like cologne. Haruka appeared in the doorway before Daichi reached it, wiping his hands on a rag, eyes sharp.
"You said we need to talk," Haruka said, no preamble.
"Yeah," Daichi replied.
Haruka glanced back into the workshop, then stepped aside. "Office?"
"Office."
They climbed the stairs in silence, boots echoing against metal. The office was exactly as it had been during the meeting with Hugo, tidy, functional, the trophy cabinet standing empty but proud against the wall. Haruka closed the door behind them and gestured to a chair.
Daichi didn't sit.
He stood near the window, arms crossed, looking down at the workshop floor below. The twins were visible near the parts washer, arguing about something. Rin and Takamori worked on the gearbox. Ayaka organized tools on a rolling cart.
"What happened?" Haruka asked quietly.
Daichi turned. "James and Mike walked into my store this morning."
Haruka's expression didn't change, but something tightened in his posture. "Your FamilyMart?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"About forty minutes ago. Just before my shift ended."
Haruka leaned back against the desk, arms folding slowly. "Did they recognize you?"
"Almost," Daichi said. "Mike thought I looked familiar. Said he saw me at Fuji. I denied it."
"And?"
"They didn't push too hard. But they weren't convinced either."
A pause.
Haruka exhaled through his nose. "What were they doing there?"
"Buying drinks. Snacks. Talking about SUGO."
That got Haruka's attention. "About SUGO specifically?"
Daichi nodded. "They mentioned the EK9. Asked if we'd show up. Talked about how the track would 'eat us alive' if we made mistakes."
Haruka's jaw tightened. "Could be trash talk."
"Could be," Daichi agreed. "But they were in Suginami. At 7:30 in the morning."
Haruka straightened slightly. "That's not close to anything."
"No," Daichi said. "It's not."
Silence settled between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
Haruka rubbed the back of his neck. "You think they were looking for something?"
"I don't know," Daichi admitted. "Could be coincidence. Could be they got lost trying to find a decent coffee shop. Could be they're staying somewhere nearby and just wandered in."
"But you don't believe that."
Daichi met his eyes. "Do you?"
Haruka didn't answer immediately. He turned, paced toward the window, stared down at the workshop. The EK9 gleamed under the lights, nearly complete, nearly perfect.
"Akagi's drivers," Haruka said quietly. "Or Naka GP's. Same thing."
"Same thing," Daichi echoed.
Another pause.
"You think Akagi sent them?" Haruka asked.
"I think Akagi's the kind of man who doesn't do anything by accident," Daichi replied. "And I think having his drivers show up at the convenience store where I work, right before SUGO feels like a message."
Haruka turned back. "What kind of message?"
"That he knows where we are."
The words hung in the air, cold and sharp.
Haruka exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "Or it really was just coincidence. Tokyo's a big city, but it's not that big. They could've stopped at any FamilyMart on the way to wherever they were going."
"Maybe," Daichi said.
"But you wanted me to know."
"Yeah."
Haruka nodded once. "Good call."
Daichi relaxed slightly, tension easing from his shoulders. He'd been carrying this for the entire drive over, turning it over in his mind, trying to decide if he was being paranoid or justified. Haruka's reaction. serious but measured, told him he'd made the right choice.
"We keep an eye out," Haruka said. "But we don't panic. We stick to the plan. Car goes to Hugo's base on Saturday. We travel separately. Everything stays quiet."
"Agreed," Daichi said.
Haruka pushed off the desk. "You going to tell the others?"
Daichi considered. "Not yet. No point worrying everyone over something that might be nothing."
"But if it's not nothing?"
"Then we deal with it," Daichi said simply.
Haruka smiled faintly. "You sound like Nikolai."
"Nikolai's had practice."
Before Haruka could respond, footsteps echoed up the staircase—quick, purposeful. The door swung open without a knock.
Simon stepped in first, Walter right behind him. Both wore the same expression: satisfaction mixed with exhaustion.
"We need to update you," Simon said.
Haruka straightened. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," Walter corrected, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Everything's right."
Daichi raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
Simon crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "The car's ahead of schedule."
Haruka blinked. "How far ahead?"
"Finished tomorrow," Walter said.
"Tomorrow?" Haruka repeated, as if he'd misheard.
"Tomorrow," Simon confirmed. "Suspension's done. Engine's buttoned up. Rin just finished the final alignment check. Takamori's handling the last electrical verification now. We'll run a full systems test this afternoon, but barring a miracle disaster…" He paused. "We're done by end of day."
Haruka stared at him. Then at Walter. Then back at Simon.
"You're serious."
"Completely," Walter said. "We thought Saturday morning at the earliest. But everyone worked faster than expected. No setbacks. No surprises. The car practically built itself."
Daichi felt something shift in his chest, not quite relief, but close. Momentum. Forward motion. Progress.
"So what does that mean for the dropoff?" Daichi asked.
Simon glanced at Haruka. "We can send it tomorrow. Noon, if Hugo's base can take it."
Haruka pulled out his phone immediately, scrolling through messages. "He said Saturday, but…" He tapped the screen, typing quickly. "Let me ask."
The room fell quiet as Haruka sent the message. Seconds passed. Ten. Fifteen.
Then his phone buzzed.
Haruka read the reply, eyebrows lifting slightly. "He says noon tomorrow works. His crew's already there prepping their cars. One more won't change anything."
Walter clapped his hands together once. "Perfect."
Simon nodded. "That gives us an extra day buffer. If anything comes up last minute, we're not scrambling."
Haruka looked at Daichi. "What do you think?"
Daichi didn't hesitate. "Do it. Earlier is better. Less time for things to go wrong."
"My thoughts exactly," Simon said.
Walter stretched, joints popping. "Then it's settled. We finish today, load tomorrow morning, deliver at noon."
Haruka pocketed his phone, the tension from earlier dissolving slightly under the weight of good news. "Alright. Let's make sure we actually finish on time."
Simon smirked. "We will. The twins are banned from touching anything important."
"Smart," Daichi muttered.
Walter headed for the door, pausing at the threshold. "Oh, and Daichi?"
Daichi looked up.
"Good timing," Walter said. "We could use an extra set of eyes for the final checks."
Daichi glanced at Haruka, who nodded.
"Go," Haruka said. "I'll handle the logistics."
Daichi followed Simon and Walter back down the stairs, the workshop opening up below them like a stage mid-performance. The EK9 sat in the center, nearly complete, waiting for its final act.
And for the first time that morning, Daichi allowed himself to believe they might actually pull this off.
Daichi was halfway down the stairs when it registered.
The workshop floor spread out below him, Rin at the alignment rack, Takamori running diagnostics on a laptop near the workbench, the twins bickering over something near the parts washer. Simon and Walter were already moving toward the EK9, talking in low voices about torque specs and final checks.
But two people were missing.
Daichi stopped on the landing, one hand on the railing, eyes scanning the space again more deliberately. No Hana. No Ayaka. The toolcart Ayaka had been organizing earlier sat abandoned near the lift. The corner where Hana usually worked. cleaning, cataloging, double-checking fasteners, was empty.
He frowned.
It wasn't like them to disappear without reason, especially not this close to a race weekend. Especially not when the car was this close to finished.
Daichi turned and climbed back up the stairs.
Haruka was still in the office, leaning over the desk with his phone in one hand, typing something with his thumb. He glanced up as Daichi reappeared in the doorway.
"Forget something?" Haruka asked.
"Where are Hana and Ayaka?" Daichi said.
Haruka blinked, then straightened. "Oh. Right. They're off today."
Daichi's frown deepened. "Off?"
"Yeah," Haruka said, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Day off. They asked for it two days ago."
"Two days ago," Daichi repeated slowly. "Right before we finish the car."
Haruka smiled faintly. "I know how it sounds."
"Do you?"
"They earned it," Haruka said simply. "They've been here every day for three weeks straight. Early mornings, late nights. Hana rebuilt half the cooling system by herself. Ayaka reorganized our entire parts inventory and caught two missing O-rings that would've been a disaster at SUGO."
Daichi crossed his arms. "So where are they?"
Haruka's smile widened slightly, taking on a knowing edge. "Shibuya 109."
Daichi stared at him. "The shopping mall."
"Yep."
"They're shopping."
"Not just shopping," Haruka corrected. "There's a huge sale today. Makeup, clothing, accessories. Apparently it's some kind of seasonal clearance event. Hana said it only happens twice a year."
Daichi remained silent for a moment, processing this. "And you… let them go."
"Let them?" Haruka repeated, eyebrows lifting. "Daichi, they're not prisoners. They asked. I said yes."
"We're four days from SUGO."
"And the car will be finished today," Haruka replied calmly. "Without them. Because they already did their part."
Daichi opened his mouth, then closed it again. He wasn't angry, not exactly. More… surprised. Maybe confused. This wasn't how race teams operated in his experience. When the deadline loomed, everyone stayed. Everyone worked. No exceptions.
But Haruka wasn't running that kind of team.
Haruka leaned back against the desk, arms crossing. "You ever been to Up-Garage during a wheel sale?"
The sudden shift in topic caught Daichi off guard. "What?"
"Up-Garage," Haruka repeated. "The used parts chain. They do flash sales every few months. Twenty, thirty percent off rims, coilovers, aero kits. Sometimes more."
Daichi nodded slowly. "I've heard of it."
"I go," Haruka said. "Every single time."
Daichi raised an eyebrow.
"I'll drop everything," Haruka continued. "Mid-project, mid-week, doesn't matter. If there's a sale on a set of wheels I've been watching, or a limited-run suspension kit, I'm there. First thing in the morning. I've driven an hour across Tokyo just to get to the store before it opens."
Daichi's expression shifted slightly, somewhere between amusement and understanding.
"You know why?" Haruka asked.
"Because it's a good deal."
"Because it's my thing," Haruka corrected. "Cars, parts, builds—that's what I care about. That's what makes me happy. And when something I care about goes on sale, I don't want to miss it."
He gestured vaguely toward the window, toward the city beyond. "Hana and Ayaka? Their thing isn't car parts. It's makeup, clothes, whatever makes them feel good. And when that stuff goes on sale, really on sale, the kind of sale they wait months for. they don't want to miss it either."
Daichi said nothing, letting the words settle.
"They work hard," Haruka said quietly. "Harder than I have any right to ask. They show up, they don't complain, they fix things I didn't even know were broken. So when they ask for one day off to go do something that makes them happy?" He shrugged. "I'm not going to say no."
Daichi exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. He understood. More than that, he respected it.
"Besides," Haruka added, a hint of humor creeping into his voice, "do you really want to be the guy who tells two women they can't go to a makeup sale?"
Daichi almost smiled. "Fair point."
"Exactly."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The faint sounds of the workshop drifted up through the floor. tools, voices, the hum of work continuing without pause.
"They'll be back tomorrow?" Daichi asked.
"Tomorrow morning," Haruka confirmed. "In time to help load the car."
Daichi nodded once. "Alright."
Haruka straightened, moving toward the door. "Come on. Let's go make sure the twins haven't accidentally welded something to the floor."
They descended the stairs together, Haruka leading the way. As they reached the workshop floor, Daichi glanced once more at the empty corner where Hana usually worked, the space where Ayaka's meticulous organization had been visible just an hour ago.
It felt strange.
But not wrong.
Rin looked up as they approached, wrench in hand. "Everything okay?"
"Fine," Haruka said. "Just confirming the schedule."
"Car's looking good," Rin replied, nodding toward the EK9. "Takamori's running the last electrical check now. Should be done in an hour."
"Good," Haruka said. "Let's keep it moving."
Daichi walked toward the car, eyes scanning every visible detail. The suspension sat perfectly level now, geometry dialed in with the kind of precision that only came from obsessive measurement. The engine bay was spotless, every hose, every wire, every clamp exactly where it should be.
Simon appeared beside him, holding a clipboard. "Want to help with the final torque verification?"
Daichi nodded. "Yeah."
They worked in silence for a while, moving methodically through each connection, each bolt, each fastener. Simon called out numbers. Daichi confirmed them with a torque wrench. The process was meditative, grounding, the kind of work that required focus but allowed the mind to wander.
And as Daichi worked, he found himself thinking about what Haruka had said.
About letting people be happy.
About understanding that a team wasn't just the car, or the race, or the result. It was the people. And people needed more than just work.
He glanced up briefly, catching sight of Haruka across the workshop, talking with Walter about something, gesturing with his hands. The man who'd built this place from nothing. Who'd taken in strays and misfits and turned them into something that almost looked professional.
Who understood that sometimes, a day off was just as important as a day on.
Daichi returned his attention to the torque wrench, the satisfying click as the bolt reached spec.
"Next one," Simon said.
"Next one," Daichi echoed.
And the work continued.
Somewhere across Tokyo, in the gleaming chaos of Shibuya 109, Hana and Ayaka moved through the crowded aisles with the focused intensity of soldiers on a mission. Bags already hung from their arms. Their eyes scanned shelves with the same precision they used to check valve clearances.
"Thirty percent off," Hana said, holding up a compact.
"Get two," Ayaka replied, not looking up from the lip gloss display.
They smiled.
And for one day, they weren't mechanics.
They were just two women who'd earned a break.