One week later.
Another busy afternoon settled over Tracen Academy. Classes had wrapped up an hour ago; the last training sessions tapered off one by one until only a few lingering silhouettes remained on the practice track. Now came that brief window of freedom — when students could rest, wander, or slip into their personal routines.
From the track entrance, Manhattan Cafe's trainer cupped both hands around his mouth and called out, "Hey, Cafe-san! Great training session today! See you next week!"
Cafe turned slightly, giving a small polite wave before continuing toward the dormitories. Her steps were calm, measured, the same slow, drifting rhythm she always carried after a long workout. The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows from the surrounding trees and tall lamps, stretching across the path like faint, uneven stripes.
As she rounded a corner, she noticed someone leaning casually against a lamppost—arms crossed, expression relaxed, long blonde hair catching the sunlight. Maruzensky.
"Cafe. Got a second?" she called, pushing off the post with one foot.
Cafe stopped. "What's up, Maruzensky?"
Maruzensky walked over in a light, unhurried gait, white heels tapping softly against the pavement. "I wanted to ask if you're free this weekend."
Cafe folded her arms over her chest. "I shouldn't be doing anything this weekend. The Blackbird is still in service and won't be back until Monday."
"Ah, I see…" Maruzensky said with an understanding nod.
She shifted her weight onto one hip. "Anyway, I'm asking because me, Silence Suzuka, and Teio are heading to the mountain passes. We're doing prep runs for the Hakone Turnpike Time Trial next Sunday. We'll hit Gunma first, spend the night, then head straight to Hakone the following day."
Cafe raised her chin slightly. "Anyone else coming along?"
"Yeah," Maruzensky replied, "Special Week is tagging along. She'll be riding with Suzuka."
Cafe nodded. "I don't see why not. I'll ride with Tachyon."
Maruzensky's face brightened; she gave two upward thumbs. "Perfect. Just make sure to ask Tachyon if she's coming too."
"I was heading toward campus anyway. She's in the lab. Back to her old self again."
Maruzensky exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Looks like the Wangan really helped her after everything that happened."
"It seems that way," Cafe replied.
Maruzensky pushed back a lock of hair and stepped away, heels clicking as she walked down the path. "I'll see you in two hours."
Cafe gave a low wave. "See you."
Cafe continued down the campus walkway, her steps soft against the concrete path as the late-afternoon breeze passed through the trees lining the courtyard. The main building of Tracen Academy stood ahead, tall glass panes gleaming in the sun.
As she neared the entrance, the automatic doors slid open with a muted hiss, greeting her with the familiar rush of crisp, conditioned air. Inside, the main lobby was alive with activity. Dozens of Umas walked past—some heading out for errands, others chatting in small groups, a few resting on the long benches designed with tail-accommodating gaps.
Cafe moved through the crowd with practiced quiet, heading toward the central stairwell. She ascended to the third floor, passing various club rooms and offices, until she reached the third door on the right.
She slid it open.
Inside, the lab was exactly as always: neat, quiet, faint scent of electronics and printer ink. Tachyon stood near her desk, just closing her laptop with a soft click before slipping off her lab coat. She draped it over the back of her chair, stretching her shoulders.
"Tachyon. Got a sec?"
Tachyon turned. "Yeah? What's going on?"
Cafe shut the sliding door behind her and walked forward. "Maruzensky approached me earlier—asked if we're free this weekend."
Tachyon shrugged lightly. "I was planning a few more Wangan runs tonight and tomorrow. I'm taking Sunday off. Why?"
Cafe crossed her arms. "She's inviting us on a trip. We're heading to the mountain passes tomorrow and Sunday."
Tachyon raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
Cafe smirked, tilting her head. "Figured you'd be interested. There's a time trial event next Sunday on Hakone Turnpike. Maruzensky and Silence Suzuka are both participating, so they're doing prep runs."
Tachyon leaned back against the desk, blinking once. "Oh. I see."
Cafe laughed softly. "Knew it'd catch your attention."
She extended one hand. "Besides, you can't run the Wangan all the time."
Tachyon tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm…"
She looked directly at Cafe. "Why the hell not?"
Cafe smiled. "Perfect. Maruzensky said the convoy leaves in two hours. Bring clothes for two days plus extras."
Tachyon nodded. "Sure thing, Cafe."
Cafe turned toward the door. As she slid it open, she paused and looked back. "Oh—just bring a small bag. It's only two days, one night."
Tachyon waved her off. "Yeah, yeah. Don't worry. I'm not packing a suitcase."
Cafe let out a quiet laugh, shaking her head as she stepped out of the lab.
Left alone, Tachyon chuckled to herself. She grabbed her laptop, powered it down fully, and began gathering her belongings before leaving the lab in her own time.
An hour and a half later.
Tachyon stood in her dorm room, the late-afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains and casting warm lines across the floor. She knelt beside her bed, unzipping her duffle bag one last time. With a careful sweep of her hand, she checked through each item inside.
"So… clothes… laptop… charger… phone charger… spare shoes… pants…"
Her tail flicked once to the side before settling. "All set."
She zipped the bag shut and lifted it, slinging the strap over her right shoulder. With a small exhale, she walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway, closing it behind her.
She glanced right.
"Heh. I knew you'd be waiting for me, Cafe."
Cafe pushed herself off the wall, arms still loosely crossed. "Well, you took your sweet time."
Tachyon scoffed under her breath. "I had to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything."
Cafe shook her head with a faint smile. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."
Tachyon chuckled quietly as she walked alongside her.
The two moved down the hallway toward the stairwell, the soft hum of distant conversations echoing faintly from elsewhere in the dorm. Tachyon smirked as they descended the steps.
"Never thought I'd see the driver of the infamous Blackbird riding shotgun with the driver of the Devil Z."
Cafe raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And how exactly do you know my car is that infamous?"
Tachyon turned slightly to look at her. "YouTube videos. Plenty of people talk about a certain black 930 Turbo tearing up the Wangan."
She shrugged. "Besides, it's not like I spend all day in my dorm or the lab running calculations to strengthen my legs. I need something else to do."
Cafe let out a low whistle. "Look at you. Agnes Tachyon—multiple G1 winner—getting pulled into the world of highway racing."
Tachyon lifted one shoulder casually. "Eh. It's something, right?"
Cafe nodded. "It is something."
They reached the first floor, exited through the main doors, and crossed the short walkway toward the parking lot. The wind carried a faint scent of gasoline and asphalt, drifting from the row of student parking spaces ahead.
Already there—lined up in a small cluster—were four unmistakable silhouettes: Tachyon's midnight-blue S30Z, Maruzensky's low-slung red Countach, Teio's Bayside Blue R34 GT-R, and a striking red Honda NSX NA1 with a noticeably more aggressive stance than before.
Cafe pointed. "Looks like Maruzensky, Suzuka, and Spe are already here."
Tachyon narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yeah… they are."
Maruzensky leaned against the left rear quarter of her Countach, sunglasses perched on her head as she eyed the NSX beside her.
"So… this is fresh from the tuner, right?" she asked.
Silence Suzuka nodded calmly. "Yes. This is version two of my build."
Maruzensky let out a slow whistle. "Ooooh. So what's new?"
Suzuka looked over her NSX, then back at Maruzensky. "Apart from the new Advance Flatout aero kit, carbon hood, and the BBS LM wheels… the C30A now runs a stroker kit and a supercharger."
Maruzensky blinked, ears lifting slightly. "A supercharger?"
Suzuka nodded. "Yes. With the stroker kit, displacement's up to 3.1 liters. Power output is around…"
She tilted her head up thoughtfully, tapping her chin once, then met Maruzensky's gaze again.
"Eight hundred and forty wheel horsepower."
Teio sucked air through her teeth. "Sheesh… that's quite an upgrade from version one."
Special Week glanced at Suzuka, eyes wide. "Isn't that a bit too much for your taste, Suzuka-san?"
Suzuka shook her head. "Not at all. I've driven several of the classic McLaren Formula One cars from the late 80s and early 90s. This is exactly the kind of response and powerband I wanted."
She rested her eyes on her NSX, admiration clear in her voice.
"Light, powerful, and cornering like a Formula car."
Maruzensky chuckled.
A voice joined the conversation from behind.
"Well, there's a saying. Suzuka-san is the 'reincarnation' of the late great Ayrton Senna."
Tachyon raised an eyebrow. "Ayrton who?"
Cafe let out a short chuckle. "You'll learn eventually."
The ears of Maruzensky, Suzuka, Teio, and Special Week all perked up at once, tails flicking stiffly before they turned toward the approaching pair.
Maruzensky laughed. "Haha. I knew it'd be you two."
Suzuka sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. "You all seriously can't let that go, can you?"
Cafe stepped forward until she stood right in front of Suzuka's NSX. "Nope."
She glanced over the car's aggressive stance and fresh paint. "You've driven ex-Senna McLaren Formula One cars at Goodwood. And now you're driving an NSX—a car Senna had direct input in developing."
Special Week raised a finger. "And not to mention your birthday, Suzuka-san."
Cafe nodded. "That too."
Maruzensky chimed in, voice playful. "And remind me… how do you control your throttle during a corner? Do you blip it, or do you go smooth?"
Suzuka blinked, tapping her chin. "Um… I blip it. Helps loosen the rear a little on entry."
Her cheeks flushed red as she turned slightly away.
"And… well… so I can get back on throttle as early as possible on the exit."
Maruzensky extended a hand toward her, as if presenting a conclusion.
"There you go. Senna's reincarnation."
The group continued examining Suzuka's NSX as the late-afternoon sun cast long streaks over the parking lot.
Cafe looked over the car again. "Not gonna lie, Suzuka—this looks way better in person than the pictures you sent in the group chat."
Suzuka nodded. "It turned out better than I imagined."
Teio chuckled, hands on her hips. "Seriously. You and I are on par in races now."
Maruzensky smirked. "You might have a thousand horsepower, Teio, but your GT-R weighs more than Suzuka-san's NSX."
Teio puffed out her chest, raising both fists. "But I can catch her on the straights!"
Cafe chuckled. "And she'll catch you again in every corner."
Maruzensky snapped her fingers. "Exactly. All that power doesn't matter much in the mountains."
Tachyon's voice came from behind her S30Z as she shut the trunk. "That's true. With that much power, you barely get the chance to lay it down. Not on a mountain pass."
Everyone's ears flicked. Five sets of eyes turned toward Tachyon.
She looked confused. "…What? Isn't that common sense? Turbos have lag. Unless you're Suzuka, who's using a supercharger."
Cafe crossed her arms. "And since when did you know that, Tachyon?" Her tone dipped into mild sarcasm.
Tachyon scoffed. "What? You think I didn't do my research in my free time?"
She walked around to the rear quarter panel of her Z and leaned against it.
"Unlike a turbo, a supercharger is belt-driven. So the engine responds like it's naturally aspirated. No spool time, no lag."
She nodded toward them.
"So that means you, Maruzensky, Cafe, Teio—myself included—we all have that weakness."
Maruzensky lowered her head slightly with a small laugh, hand on her hip. "She's not wrong."
She straightened. "So… are we all ready for the road trip?"
Everyone nodded. Special Week raised a hand enthusiastically. "Ready!"
Maruzensky chuckled. "Alright then. We're heading to Takasaki first. Let's get moving."
The group split to their cars—Suzuka and Special Week climbing into the NSX, Maruzensky into the Countach, and Tachyon and Cafe into the S30Z.
Inside Maruzensky's Countach
Maruzensky pulled the shoulder harness over herself and clicked it into the central buckle. She looked left and saw Suzuka and Tachyon doing the same, tightening their straps, while Teio tugged at her standard R34 seatbelt.
Maruzensky smirked. "Alright. Let's get going."
She twisted the key.
The 5.2-liter twin-turbo V12 erupted to life, filling the lot with a deep, mechanical roar.
A moment later, Tachyon's Z, Teio's GT-R, and Suzuka's NSX started up in sequence—engine notes overlapping, mixing turbo whine and supercharger whirr with raw mechanical aggression.
Maruzensky eased the Countach out of the space, leading the formation. Suzuka followed, then Teio, then Tachyon bringing up the rear.
The four cars moved smoothly through the campus roads before rolling out the main gate of Tracen Academy, merging into the city streets as a small convoy.
In a closed garage nearby
From inside a dimly lit storage garage overlooking the lot, Symboli Rudolf watched as the convoy departed. Her expression tightened, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Figures you'd all be heading out…"
She turned toward the car inside the garage—a low, razor-edged Italian supercar, draped partially in a protective cover. The exposed nose was painted in the same custom green as her RX-7 FB GSL-SE.
Rudolf exhaled softly. "Might as well do some runs tomorrow. Hakone Turnpike is free until Monday…"
She turned away and began walking back toward the dorms.
Time moved quickly after their brief stop. The sun had already begun dipping behind the western skyline, painting the horizon in shades of molten orange. The Kan-Etsu Expressway carried its usual weekend flow of traffic, but the four cars carved their own quiet line through it—steady, fast, and disciplined.
Maruzensky's Countach led the formation, its twin-turbo V12 humming with restrained menace. Silence Suzuka's NSX held the gap behind her, the red machine glinting every time a highway lamp passed overhead. Halfway down the drive, Tokai Teio's R34 eased out of Tachyon's slipstream and overtook her with a smooth downshift and a surgically clean lane change. Tachyon didn't give chase; she simply checked her mirrors, adjusted her steering, and settled into the last position behind Cafe.
Inside Suzuka's NSX, the cabin was quiet except for the high-pitched whisper of the supercharger. Suzuka kept both hands locked at nine-and-three on the MOMO wheel, elbows relaxed, eyes far ahead. Every few seconds, her right foot made tiny inputs on the accelerator—smooth, precise—maintaining the convoy's rhythm.
Special Week leaned against the window as much as her five-point harness allowed, watching the blurred scenery roll by. After a long stretch of silence, she finally spoke.
"Suzuka-san… do you really have to participate?"
Suzuka's eyes shifted briefly to her left before returning to the road.
"Yes. It's a good way to spend the weekend… and a good way to test myself."
Special Week straightened in her seat. The concern in her voice was unmistakable.
"But… isn't it dangerous? These time-trial events?"
Suzuka shook her head slowly.
"Not as much as you think. The Hakone Turnpike event prioritizes safety. Medical teams are stationed at every major technical corner during the actual run. The organizers have been doing this for years."
Special Week hesitated. "What about tomorrow? The practice runs?"
"That's different." Suzuka's tone grew firmer. "Practice is done at our own risk. We all know the dangers. But we also know our cars, our limits, and that mountain."
Special Week looked down at her hands, then back out the window.
"…I believe you'll win, Suzuka-san."
A small, quiet chuckle escaped Suzuka.
"Well… anything can happen, Special Week. Anything."
—
In the Z, Tachyon and Manhattan Cafe were in the middle of a very different conversation. The Midnight Blue interior glowed under the dim highway lights, and the engine's steady drone filled the cabin.
Cafe shifted slightly in her seat, tightening her own harness before glancing at the driver.
"Not going to lie, Tachyon—you've actually improved a lot since the last time I rode shotgun with you."
Tachyon raised a brow, eyes still on the road. Her hands rested confidently on the wheel, thumbs aligned, movements measured.
"Oh? And how did you figure that out?"
Cafe laughed quietly.
"That short Wangan run with Maruzensky, Teio, and Suzuka. You were… surprisingly natural. Especially when we entered the Shuto. You took the lead in the middle of the run."
She raised a finger.
"And mind you—you were pushing less power and less grip than any of their cars."
Tachyon exhaled through her nose, smiling faintly.
"I guess running the Wangan every night helps more than I thought."
Cafe adjusted her seating position again.
"You need to remember what you're up against. Maruzensky's Countach? One of only two twin-turbo builds ever made. Hers is the last surviving one."
She nodded toward the red NSX ahead.
"And Suzuka's car? Her old setup prioritized handling. But now? She's running power numbers close to Maruzensky's V12. It's practically a monster."
Cafe leaned back.
"As for Teio… well, she built her R34 around nothing but speed and power. That car's a missile."
Her eyes returned to Tachyon, voice lowering.
"And you? You're out here drifting a car that most people call impossible to control. That alone is impressive."
Tachyon scoffed.
"Stop with the praise. Say more and you're going to make it sound like I'm some kind of driving god."
Cafe burst into soft laughter.
"You did not just say that."
"I did," Tachyon replied without looking at her.
Cafe shook her head, smirking.
"You really are something, Tachyon."
The Z continued forward, engine humming, lights streaking across the windshield—four cars, four stories, all heading deeper into Gunma as the sun vanished completely.