The rain did not stop. It was a fine, persistent mist that clung to everything, beading on the carbon fiber wings of parked Skylines and blurring the neon signs of Hibasaki's tuning alley into watery smears of color. For Kaito Ren, the city had become a watercolor painting of his own indecision, all hard lines softened into ambiguous, bleeding edges.
Mari's words in the garage had been the final turn of a wrench on a pressure valve already strained to its limit. The sight of her standing there, her school uniform dark with rain, her eyes holding a betrayal he couldn't fully refute, was a ghost that rode shotgun with him everywhere.
He couldn't outrun this storm. Shoji was right. Reika was right. The only one who seemed to have the wrong map was him.
---
🌧️ Afternoon — Hibasaki Private Girls' Academy
The LFA was still a wounded beast in Shoji's garage. For the third day in a row, Kaito stood across the street from Mari's school, leaning against the driver's door of a borrowed, bone-stock Toyota Crown Athlete.
He'd borrowed it from Old Man Yamazaki at the used car lot. The Crown was quiet, comfortable, insulated. It was a car for moving through life, not for tearing a hole in it. He hated how much he appreciated the silence.
The school gates opened. His eyes instantly found Mari. She was walking with two other girls, but her posture was closed off, her head bowed. She saw the Crown, her steps faltering for a fraction of a second before she crossed the street and slid in.
"Hey," Kaito said, his voice softer than he intended.
"Hello,"she replied, her tone formal. She stared straight ahead.
He put the car in drive. The silence was a physical presence.
"How was school?"he tried.
"Fine."
"Did you have that history test?"
"Yes."
"How do you think you did?"
"I passed."
Each one-word answer was a pinprick. This was a cold shutdown.
He offered something tangible. "The LFA… Shoji says the new fender is being molded. The carbon weave has to be matched. It'll take a few more days."
Mari simply nodded."That's good."
He couldn't take it anymore. "Mari, about Reika… she just showed up. It wasn't planned."
"I know,"Mari said, her voice still dangerously calm. "She's your friend. From racing."
"It's not like that with us.We're just…"
"Rivals?"Mari finished for him, finally turning to look at him. Her eyes were just tired. "That's what you all say, isn't it? It's just racing. But then people like that Celeste woman show up. And then you come home with your hands bleeding and the car looking like it went through a war. And then you stop coming home on time. Where does it stop, Nii-san? When you're in a hospital? Or when you're on a plane to Monaco and I'm here alone?"
The question hung in the air, landing with the weight of a genuine, terrifying possibility. She had articulated the very crossroads he was standing at.
"I'm not going to crash," he said, the words sounding hollow even to him.
"You can't promise that,"she whispered, turning back to the window. "No one can."
They drove the rest of the way home in a silence louder than any exhaust note.
---
🛠️ Evening — RINK Garage
The garage was a sanctuary. The clatter of tools and the hum of fans were a welcome white noise.
Shoji was underneath the lifted Golf R. "So, the IS38 turbo swap is fighting me. The downpipe is a millimeter away from the subframe. It's like trying to put a sumo wrestler into a child's kimono."
Kaito grunted,running a finger over the sanded-down rear quarter panel of the LFA. The carbon fiber structure was exposed, a beautiful, intricate web. The damage was more than skin deep.
"You're quiet," Shoji said, rolling out from under the car. "And you've been using Yamazaki's Crown. The sister situation still frosty?"
"Frostier than a Sapporo winter,"Kaito muttered. "She thinks I'm going to abandon her for some international racing circuit."
Shoji stood up,wiping his hands on a rag. "Are you?"
"Celeste offered a spot,not a signed contract. It's not that simple."
"It never is."Shoji walked to the fridge and pulled out two cans of Boss coffee. He tossed one to Kaito. "But you've been thinking about it. I can see the gears turning. It's the same look you get when you're calculating a late apex on the Akagi touge."
Kaito cracked open the can. "She said I'd have to leave the ones who hold me back. What does that even mean? Mari? This city? You?"
Shoji took a long swig."It means she sees people as ballast. Dead weight. In her world, sentiment is a drag coefficient. You trim it away for pure performance." He looked pointedly at Kaito. "The question is, is that your world?"
Before Kaito could answer, the familiar, aggressive burble of a tuned Honda F20C engine announced a new arrival. Reika's Championship White S2000 pulled into the garage. She killed the engine and stepped out.
"Trouble in paradise?" she asked, her sharp eyes missing nothing.
"Something like that,"Kaito said.
"I told you,"she said, walking over to inspect the LFA's repair. "Good. You're not just slapping on a fiberglass cover." She turned to Kaito. "And you. You look like you haven't slept. Celeste getting in your head?"
"Among other things,"Kaito admitted.
Reika crossed her arms. "Well, you can stop moping. The 'Princess of Monaco' isn't the only one with offers. There's a meet. Tonight. Down at the old industrial docks."
Shoji frowned."The docks? That's Tanaka's turf. His races are less about skill and more about who he's paid off."
"Exactly,"Reika said, a sly grin spreading. "Which is why he's put together a very interesting invitation-only event. A 'tuning bowl.' Five drivers. Last car running takes the pot."
Kaito's interest was piqued, despite himself. A last-man-standing event was pure chaos. It was about durability and ruthless strategy. "Who's in?"
"Me.You, if you're not too busy feeling sorry for yourself. A guy from Saitama with a stupidly powerful R35 GT-R. Some internet-famous kid from Osaka with a Liberty Walk-widebody A90 Supra. And the main event… a mystery driver. Rumor is, it's someone Celeste brought with her. Her 'protege'."
The air in the garage shifted. Celeste's name was a spark on spilled fuel. This wasn't just a random race. It was a message. A test.
> Author's Thoughts: This is the hook. The "tuning bowl" is more than a race; it's Celeste's direct challenge. She's forcing Kaito to look at the world she represents (her pristine, professional protege) against the gritty, dangerous world he calls home. It externalizes his internal conflict into a physical battle. The borrowed Golf R is perfect—it's not his legendary LFA, it's a tool, an underdog. It strips away the icon and tests the driver.
"Her protege?" Kaito repeated, his voice low.
"See?Now I have your attention," Reika said. "The pot is five million yen. But that's not the real prize, is it? It's about sending a message back. Your LFA is out of commission, but…" Her eyes drifted to the Golf R.
"Oh no," Shoji said, holding up his hands. "No way. My baby is mid-surgery. The tune is conservative, the alignment is for street—"
"It's a 4WD hot hatch with 400 horsepower,"Reika interrupted. "It's more than capable. Or are you afraid of getting a few scratches on your pristine German paint?"
Shoji looked from Reika's smirk to Kaito's calculating expression. He sighed deeply. "Fine. Fine! But if you so much as curb a wheel, Kaito, I'm taking it out of your hide."
Kaito looked at the Golf R. The internal storm hadn't passed, but it had found a new eye. A problem he could understand. A temporary fix, a compression of his anxieties into a single point of combustion.
"Where and when?"Kaito asked, his voice now devoid of fatigue.
Reika's grin widened."Midnight. Warehouse district, pier seven. Don't be late."
---
🏠 Night — Kaito & Mari's Apartment
The apartment was clean, quiet, and perfectly ordered, but the warmth was absent. Mari was in her room, the light under her door a thin line.
Kaito stepped out onto the balcony. The city lights glittered below. He pulled out his phone.
One message was from an unknown, international number.
Unknown: Celeste. Consider my offer. A spot in the Monaco qualifier is available. It requires an immediate answer. Potential sponsors are watching. Don't linger in the shadows when you could own the spotlight.
The second was from "InfernoVFX." A client was asking for an early delivery on a commission. The fee was substantial.
He looked from the phone to the city, then to Mari's closed door. Two paths. One, a gilded cage of professional racing. The other, the tangled, dangerous world he'd built here, anchored by his sister.
He didn't reply. Instead, he texted Shoji.
Kaito: What's the weakest point on the Golf right now?
The reply was instant.
Shoji: The stock intercooler. It's going to heat soak after two hard laps. And the stock brakes will be toast. But hey, no pressure.
A solvable problem. He went to his room and opened his closet. Behind his ordinary clothes was his racing suit, helmet, and gloves. He ran a hand over the helmet's visor. This was a language he understood.
The decision for tonight was made. The decision for everything else could wait. For now, there was only the upcoming roar of an engine, the bite of brakes, and the sharp, clarifying focus of the fight ahead.