The following morning, sunlight poured across the forecourt of Lyney's gas station, catching every edge and surface in a warm, golden glow. The asphalt shimmered slightly with the leftover dew, and the crisp mountain air carried the mingled scent of gasoline, engine oil, and fresh-brewed coffee. But none of that held a candle to what March was leaning against, grinning like she'd just won the lottery.
A Blue Pearl Metallic Toyota Supra MK4.
It didn't just sit there—it commanded the space. The deep, oceanic luster of the paintjob rippled like liquid steel in the morning light. The body's long, low-slung form exuded aggression even at a standstill, the curvature of the front fenders flowing seamlessly into the teardrop silhouette of the rear. Its iconic rounded taillights—four blood-red eyes set against the polished gloss of the hatch—glinted like they were daring someone to come up and try it.
March twirled the keys around her finger with a kind of reverent glee, practically vibrating with excitement.
"So?" she beamed, voice barely contained. "What do you guys think, huh?"
Beidou, her eyes wide, slowly circled the car like a panther sizing up a new beast. She crouched to eye level with the front lip, then walked around the side, fingers ghosting over the tight panel gaps and factory body lines with admiration that bordered on lust.
"Shit, March..." she muttered, breath catching slightly. "You actually went and did it. Is this financed, or did you drop a stack?"
March spun the keys again, letting the metal catch the sunlight.
"I got a dealer hookup," she said, puffing out her chest like she'd just struck a business deal with Rex Lapis himself. "So I dropped my whole savings account on this bad boy!" She rapped her knuckles lightly against the hood—thunk—a solid, confident sound. "Worth every mora."
Collei stepped forward slowly, as if the Supra might vanish if she approached too quickly. She reached out and laid her fingertips on the front fender, the paint smooth and cool beneath her touch. The slight flare of the arches, the way the widebody kit nestled perfectly over the tires, the factory precision of the welds and seams—it was all so clean. Too clean. Like it had been wrapped in velvet since it rolled off the line.
"I gotta hand it to you, March," Collei murmured, drawing her hand back with an appreciative nod. "This is the real deal."
March practically lit up like a neon sign. "Wait for this—!"
With a grin, she unlatched the roof panels, stepping to the side and lifting the Targa top with both arms. She set it carefully into the back seat, and just like that, the car transformed. The Supra's lines opened up, flowing from front to rear in one unbroken, sinuous sweep. The cabin basked in sunlight now, the deep leather seats and analog dash suddenly exposed to the world.
"It's a Targa Top!" March practically sang, throwing her arms wide like she was unveiling a stage show. "Perfect for days like this! You feel that breeze? Imagine carving up Yougou with the top off—just you, the road, and the wind in your hair!"
Seele squatted down beside the car, eyes scanning every detail like a sniper sighting targets. She ran a gloved hand along the open roofline, then rapped her knuckles against the Targa brace inside.
"Tight fit," she noted. "Doesn't rattle. That's rare." She moved around to the wheels, crouching low. "Still stock rims. Yokohama tires. Original sizing—225s up front, 245s in the rear. You kept it period-correct. I like that."
She stood up again and cocked her head.
"But... is this the turbo model?"
March hesitated. Her smile faltered for just a breath.
"Well..." She looked down at the car, sheepish. "No. It's the naturally aspirated 2JZ-GE. The twin-turbo Targa variant was way out of my price range, so... I went with this."
Beidou stepped in with a firm clap on March's shoulder, her grin unfading.
"Who gives a shit? It's still got the 2JZ block—iron-bottom, square-bore, ready to rip with the right bolt-ons. That engine is a fucking legend even without turbos." She knocked lightly on the hood. "This thing's a time bomb just waiting to be tuned."
March's face lit up again. Her earlier hesitation evaporated into pure, electrified joy.
"Right?! I was thinking maybe I'd start light—remap the ECU, slap on a better intake, maybe a custom exhaust. Then we drop the suspension, get her sitting low and tight. And after that... maybe a single turbo setup! Just imagine the whistle!" She mimed a blow-off valve hiss and pumped her fists in the air.
Beidou gave her an approving nod, arms crossed.
"Now you're thinking smart. Don't dump it all in at once. Feel the car evolve with you. You build a relationship with it that way." Her eyes glinted. "Bring it by my mechanic tomorrow. Guy's done Supra builds since the '90s. He'll know exactly where to start."
March bounced on the balls of her feet. She couldn't hold still if her life depended on it.
"Yesss! Oh my gods, this is so sweet!"
Then, as if struck by lightning, she whipped around toward Collei, eyes wide, practically glowing.
"Collei! We gotta take her for a run up Yougou tonight. Come with me?"
Collei crossed her arms, lips twitching into a smile. She cocked a brow, eyes narrowing with a familiar spark.
"Sure thing, March. I'm in."
March pumped both fists into the air, then spun on one heel like she was about to break into dance.
"YES! Let's fucking go!"
The Supra gleamed under the rising sun, its paint glowing like a blade pulled from the forge. There was a new sound in the mountain air now—not the shriek of a downhill battle, but the slow, steady heartbeat of something just beginning.
A new car.
A new chapter.
A 2JZ engine, idling with untapped promise.
And one more legend ready to chase the shadow of the Eight-Six.
The night air was crisp and electric as March and Collei ascended the winding roads of Mount Yougou. The Blue Pearl Metallic Supra hugged the curves with obedient precision, the naturally aspirated 2JZ-GE murmuring a smooth, mellow note beneath the hood. Each downshift was clean, each throttle blip matched with finesse as March guided the coupe through the bends with a grin plastered on her face.
The moon hung high above the ridgeline, casting pale silver across the asphalt. The trees stood in rows like silent sentinels, their leaves rustling softly with the car's passing. At the summit, the two girls pulled off into a gravel turnout, the Supra's brakes groaning faintly as it came to a stop.
They stepped out into the still night, the air rich with pine and ozone. Stars scattered across the sky like shattered glass, the Milky Way a faint smear of light above the treetops. March stretched her arms overhead and let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"Yes!" she practically shouted. "That felt fantastic!" She turned to Collei, her eyes shining with the post-drive high. "It might not have the raw power on the straights, but it takes corners like a fucking dream, doesn't it?"
Collei leaned against the Supra's front fender, brushing a hand along the paint, still warm from the climb. "It sure does," she said with a soft smile.
March popped the hood, the latch clicking with a metallic snap. She propped it open, revealing the meticulously clean bay—no showcar polish, but everything was tidy, functional, purposeful. The 2JZ-GE sat there like a sleeping beast, its intake manifold and valve covers gleaming under the engine bay light.
"This is the naturally aspirated 2JZ-GE," she said with unmistakable pride. "The turbocharged one's the 2JZ-GTE, yeah, but the GE shares most of the same bottom end. Converting to a GTE spec later? Way cheaper than buying a GTE outright. Smart financial move."
Before Collei could answer, a low, guttural growl tore through the night, echoing up from the lower bends of the mountain like the approach of a predator. Headlights cut through the treeline. The hiss of a venting blow-off valve followed. Then the car appeared—Red Supra, gleaming like fresh blood under the halogens, its body low and tight, turbo spool whining beneath the hood like a caged animal.
It rolled to a halt beside them, idling low and mean. The passenger window eased down. A girl stepped out, closing the door behind her with a casual swing.
She was tall, maybe a couple years older than them. Dark blue and green hair tied in a low ponytail, her frame lean but confident. Her movements were smooth—deliberate. Like someone who had spent countless hours behind the wheel and earned every ounce of her swagger.
She gave them both a once-over and nodded.
"Nice to see another Supra up here," she said, her voice cool and composed. "Name's Xianyun."
March, ever the bold one, tucked a hand behind her back and cocked a grin. "Heh, thanks, Ms. Xianyun."
But Xianyun's gaze was already drawn toward the raised hood. Her brow twitched.
"You've got the hood up—checking fluids or something?"
March started to wave her hand. "Nah, just admiring the—"
Xianyun leaned in, scanning the engine bay. Then she blinked. Took a slow step back. Her lips curled into a half-disbelieving sneer.
"Wait… is this the naturally aspirated version?"
The temperature dropped. March's smirk faltered.
"Well, yeah," she said evenly. "Didn't have the budget for the GTE. But I'm planning to add a turbo later."
Xianyun scoffed. "If you had the budget, you'd have bought the real one from the start."
Her tone wasn't mocking—it was worse. Dismissive.
Collei's fists clenched at her sides, knuckles whitening. She bit her tongue.
Xianyun turned back toward her own Supra, already reaching for the door handle.
"Try not to eat my dust when I leave you in my rearview," she said flatly.
Then—VRAAAHHH!—she dumped the clutch, the Red Supra's tires screaming as it launched down the mountain, turbo wailing into the night.
March stared after her, slack-jawed. "Man… what's her problem?"
She turned—only to see Collei already moving. Her jaw set, eyes glowing with fury.
"That's it." Collei snapped. "Now she's gonna pay the price."
"Wait—what?!"
"Get in."
Collei was already sliding into the driver's seat. The Supra's dome light flared for a heartbeat.
"Collei, wait—"
"Get. In."
March didn't even argue. She threw open the passenger door and slid in, fumbling with her seatbelt. The moment it clicked, Collei stabbed the clutch and twisted the key.
WRRROOOM! The engine barked to life.
"Collei, just let it go!" March cried. "It's not worth it! Besides—no LSD, stock tires, it's not prepped for racing!"
But Collei's hands were already on the wheel, her posture locked in. Eyes forward. Calm, deadly calm.
"I'll warn you now—I'm gonna be rough with your baby. But she'll come back in one piece. Probably." A smirk crept across her lips. "You trust me?"
March hesitated.
"…Yeah."
Collei grinned wide. "Good."
BAM! First gear slammed in. The tires chirped and caught as she floored the throttle, launching them into the night like a shot. March screamed as the rear end squirmed under the sudden torque.
The mountain swallowed them whole.
Xianyun's Red Supra was just ahead, carving clean through the bends with surgical grace. She flicked the wheel into a right-hand hairpin, weight shifting, rear tires sliding out as she modulated throttle through the apex. The vented turbo hissed and spat with every gear change.
She glanced in the mirror—and froze.
They were gaining.
"No way…" she whispered. "She's got the NA version!"
In the passenger seat, March was clinging to the door like it was a lifeline.
"Collei, hit the damn brakes!"
Collei didn't answer. She was heel-toeing into a braking zone, slamming the gearstick down into third, rev-matching with millimeter precision. The Supra pitched forward into the turn, tires screaming for mercy as she rotated the chassis mid-corner with a tight clutch-kick.
"Is this really my so-called crappy Supra?!"
The guardrails flashed by in blurs of silver. Trees became streaks. The tires—nearly three decades old—were hanging on by willpower alone. Collei fed in countersteer, dancing the line between control and chaos.
Up ahead, Xianyun was fighting to stay ahead. She dropped into second and punched the throttle, her rear end snapping out wide, turbo boost surging violently as she tried to extend the gap.
Collei read it instantly.
"She's overdriving. Her line's sloppy."
She tucked in. Nose to tail. The NA Supra was lighter, more balanced. Less turbo torque, sure—but less lag, too. Collei used every inch of the road.
And then—the last tight corner before the straight.
Collei's eyes narrowed.
"Watch this."
She yanked the wheel left. Slammed the brakes. Dropped the left wheels into the gutter—SLAM!—the chassis jolted but held. The front end hooked like it was glued to the inside line.
March gasped. "You're doing the Gutter Run?!"
Xianyun's head snapped back. She looked left—just in time to see March's Supra flying past her on the inside.
"WHAT?!"
The NA Supra catapulted ahead. Clean overtake. Xianyun floored it, chasing—but Collei was already gone. Gone like a ghost, swallowed by the forest and the curves of Mount Yougou.
By the time she reached the next bend, the taillights had vanished.
Inside her Red Supra, Xianyun seethed. Her hands tightened on the wheel—but the anger gave way to quiet admiration.
"…I should've kept my mouth shut," she muttered. "Should've encouraged her… not pissed her off."
She cracked a smirk despite herself.
"Those girls can drive. I'll give 'em that."
Above, the stars blinked on in silent approval as March's Supra disappeared beyond the ridge—its howl echoing across the mountains.
Victory, written in tire marks and moonlight.
The night stretched on in peaceful silence, the hum of distant cars echoing faintly from the foot of the mountain. Every now and then, the wind stirred the trees with a dry rustle, their branches whispering secrets into the cold air. The racing was done, but adrenaline still lingered in the quiet like the scent of burnt rubber.
Collei stood at the edge of the overlook, the chill of the mountain air brushing against her exposed skin. The city lights far below twinkled like another sky turned upside down, and for a moment, she just listened—to the stillness, to her heartbeat slowing, to the mechanical ticking of March's cooling engine behind her. The high from the race was fading, but something deeper had taken its place. Something quieter. More lasting.
Behind her, March leaned against the warm hood of her Blue Pearl Metallic Supra, arms crossed, her expression lit not by the moon or stars, but by something softer—understanding. There was something unspoken now between them. Something real. Racing had ignited the connection, sure, but it was what came after—the risk, the trust, the raw vulnerability of it all—that tied them together now like unseen cables beneath the skin.
"You know," Collei said finally, her voice a quiet thread barely audible over the breeze, "I never really thought much about what I could do in a race until now."
March tilted her head slightly, curious, her eyes catching the glint of starlight.
"Really? How come?"
Collei rolled the still-warm coffee can between her fingers, the metal gently radiating heat through her gloves. She didn't look at March right away. She looked past her, over the railing, to the sharp curves and forest-shrouded blacktop below—roads she'd just danced down like a phantom in a borrowed body.
"It's not that I didn't enjoy it," she said slowly. "But I think a part of me never really let myself feel the thrill. Like… I kept telling myself it wasn't my thing, or maybe I was just worried about disappointing someone. Especially you."
March didn't laugh. She didn't tease. Instead, she pushed off the hood and walked toward her friend with a look that said she knew exactly what that felt like.
"Disappoint me?" she said, her voice light, but sincere. "Collei, the only thing I've been tonight is impressed."
She reached up and tapped the side of her own head.
"You've got it in here," she said. Then her hand dropped, pressed lightly against Collei's chest. "And in here. You weren't just driving—you were reading the road. Feeling every flex in the suspension, every tug from those worn tires. You didn't fight the car, you flowed with it. That's instinct. You don't teach that shit. It's just there."
Collei's cheeks darkened, and this time it wasn't the wind that flushed her skin. She met March's gaze head-on.
"I guess... maybe I do have something," she murmured. "But it's more than the car. Tonight, it felt like I stopped running from myself. Like I stopped pretending I didn't want this. I didn't realize how much I was holding back until I let it all go."
March looked up at the sky, her breath rising in faint clouds. A few clouds drifted lazily across the stars, and for a moment, the mountaintop felt suspended between worlds—one below, chaotic and heavy, and one above, vast and free.
"I get that," she said softly. "I've been holding back too. Not just in the car, though… in life. I've always been afraid to push past the lines I drew for myself. But being in that passenger seat? Watching you take corners that should've been impossible… I felt something shift."
She smiled faintly, brushing her bangs out of her face.
"When you're behind the wheel like that, you're not just driving—you're deciding who you want to be."
Collei didn't speak right away. The silence was rich—not empty, but full of unspoken understanding. The kind of silence that said more than words ever could. She finally exhaled, long and slow.
"You know," she said, her voice low, "maybe racing is just one way of figuring out who we are. It's not just about who crosses the line first. It's about testing your limit. Seeing what you're made of."
March turned toward her with a crooked grin.
"Winning's nice," she said. "But the real win is knowing you belong out there. That feeling when the tires are just barely hanging on, your pulse is spiking, and everything else in the world disappears? That's not just racing—that's freedom. And you, Collei... you're made for it."
Something loosened in Collei's chest at that. Not relief exactly. But release. Like she'd stopped bracing for something that never came.
Above them, the stars shimmered just a little brighter, as if nodding in approval. The mountaintop stood still, frozen in a perfect moment between the chaos of the night and the unknowns of tomorrow.
They weren't just two drivers anymore. They were something more—two souls chasing the edge of what they could become, side by side.
And maybe—just maybe—this was only the beginning.