The following afternoon — Lyney's Gas Station.
On the surface, it was just another day.
The low thrum of engines idling, the occasional honk from the road, the metallic rhythm of socket wrenches clicking against bolts—a familiar soundtrack, steady and unchanging, masking the aftershock still rippling beneath the surface of everyone who'd been on the mountain last night.
Near the pumps, Collei moved with practiced ease, crouched beside a Civic Type R in Championship White, the kind of car you could tell belonged to someone who waxed it twice a week and pushed it to the redline every weekend. She was already halfway through topping off the tank, her other hand wiping down the windshield with a clean rag.
Her eyes flicked across the fender, sharp and momentary, catching the carbon accents and upgraded tires.
Recognition. Not of the car—but of the driver's intent.
She didn't say a word, just nodded once as she handed back the receipt, her posture calm, unreadable. The driver gave her a polite nod before rolling off, VTEC barking as he rejoined the traffic on the main road.
Over by the garage, the usual crew had clustered together in a loose semicircle. A socket wrench clanged onto concrete in the background. The storm had passed, but the buzz hadn't.
Beidou leaned against a support post, arms crossed, a half-empty soda bottle dangling from her fingers.
"It's crazy, right? Collei's just your average teenager, fresh out of high school…"
She trailed off, the unspoken part hanging in the air: But last night, she drove like a monster.
March gave a sheepish laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
"No kidding. I was in the back seat losing my damn mind, and she didn't even blink! Like—total focus. I kept yelling, and she didn't even flinch."
Seele shifted her weight, arms folded, her expression unreadable—calculating something.
"Hey… you said she asked you to sit in the back seat? On purpose?"
March blinked. "Yeah. She didn't explain why, though. Even after."
Seele's eyes gleamed with sudden insight. The smirk came next—sharp, knowing.
"I think I get it now."
Beidou tilted her head, March leaned in.
Anticipation hung in the air.
"Come on, spill it!" they said together.
Seele straightened, full drama mode now, letting the moment hang for half a second longer than necessary.
"Because March is annoying."
Beidou and March instantly collapsed, flopping against each other like their souls had left their bodies.
A beat passed. Then laughter erupted.
March wiped at her eyes between wheezes.
"Damn it, Seele—you got me!"
From under the adjacent car bay, Lyney rolled out on a creeper, grease-streaked and holding a ratchet. He stood and dusted off his gloves with exaggerated annoyance.
"Unbelievable. None of you paid attention in physics class?"
The group turned toward him, still chuckling.
"Collei had March in the back seat for weight balance," Lyney explained, matter-of-fact. "Rear-wheel drive car in the rain? You want more weight over the rear tires. Improves traction."
He shook his head, mock-exasperated.
"She probably figured that out the moment she saw the cloud cover."
Silence. Then a collective "…ohhh."
Amber, who'd been lounging casually against her SilEighty with her arms behind her head, narrowed her eyes slightly in thought.
"Y'know, it's funny. You guys all said Collei used to avoid racing. Like she didn't wanna accept any challenges?"
Everyone nodded.
Amber smirked.
"Well, last night? She didn't hesitate. Not once. Took the fight to an S2000 in the rain—and won. No hesitation, no fear. That's not a kid who's scared of losing anymore."
Beidou gave a low whistle, eyes shifting toward the Eight-Six now parked by the air pump, its black-and-white silhouette dull under the afternoon sun, streaked faintly with dried rainwater.
"Can't believe it," she murmured. "She didn't even know what an Eight-Six was when we first met. And now?"
She exhaled through her nose.
"Now she's starting to think like a racer. Feel the road. Adjust mid-run. No panic. No showboating. Just execution."
Amber pushed off her car and strolled toward the pump station.
Each step casual, but with a purpose.
Collei was finishing up, returning the fuel cap and tucking the rag into her back pocket when she spotted her.
"Oh hey, Amber."
Amber grinned, but something in it felt… different. A glint of challenge mixed with respect.
"So, Collei… You free tonight? Thought we'd head out to Yougou Lake. You can ride with me."
Collei blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, but she didn't backpedal.
She held Amber's gaze for a heartbeat longer than usual.
"Sure thing, Amber. I've got time."
Amber just smiled. Not cocky. Not smug. Just… knowing.
"Cool. I'll pick you up after your shift."
She turned back to the others without waiting for a response, hands in her pockets.
Collei stood there for a moment, then exhaled through her nose and reached for the squeegee again, slipping back into the rhythm of the station.
But everything had shifted.
The air. The tension. The way the others looked at her now—not just as a friend or classmate, but as something more.
A driver.
And somewhere deep in her chest, even if she didn't say it out loud—
She was starting to believe it, too.
As the sun dipped beneath the rooftops, Collei turned into the driveway.
The AE86 Trueno stood beneath the bruised-orange glow of dusk, the fading light spilling across its battle-worn body like the final spotlight after a war. The white paint—once clean, even luminous—was now speckled with dried mud and road grime, streaks of brown and gray splashed up from the fender arches and across the side skirts. Rainwater still clung to its edges in rivulets, clinging stubbornly like scars from the night before.
The Eight-Six had survived the storm. Not just the weather—but the pressure. The S2000. The mountain. Everything.
It had held.
Collei exhaled through her nose.
"What a mess…" she murmured, stepping out. "Must be from all the rain last night. Well—time to clean her up."
She slipped inside, swapping her damp work uniform for a simple brown sleeveless dress. Nothing fancy, nothing frilly. Just something light and easy to move in. Her hair was tied up in a quick bun, loose strands curling against her neck from the humidity.
A few minutes later, the screen door creaked open again and she stepped out, bucket in one hand, pressure washer hose dragging behind her. The driveway lights buzzed to life overhead.
The hose hissed and the pressure washer kicked on with a mechanical whirr-clack, shooting a hard stream of water across the hood. Grime sluiced off the AE86 in sheets, the impact thudding against the panels like soft rainfall on a tin roof. Mud ran down the sides in dirty streaks, circling the tires and flowing toward the drain.
Droplets refracted the sunset, painting liquid prisms across the once-dull paint. The light scattered along the sharp edges of the hatchback's body, revealing the ghost of the car's former glory beneath the filth.
Collei moved with methodical purpose. No wasted motion. No stray thoughts. Just her and the machine.
She killed the water, stepped back, and dunked a microfiber cloth into the warm, sudsy bucket. Foam clung to her arms as she scrubbed in tight, deliberate circles—first the hood, then the fenders, roof, and finally the hatch. Her hands, still calloused from months of wrenching and fueling cars at Lyney's station, were precise but firm. She washed like she drove—intentional.
When she reached the wheels, she dropped to one knee. A small brush dipped into the soapy water, working between the spokes of the black-and-silver deep-dish Watanabes, each flick of the bristles tracing over the faint, ghostlike rubber streaks that told the story of last night's brutal downhill battle.
Every scratch. Every mar. Every darkened patch of rubber. She knew what caused each one. She remembered the way the tires had shrieked beneath her on the last corner, the way the back end had danced just shy of oversteer.
This wasn't just a cleanup. This was ritual.
Inside the house, Arlecchino sprawled on the couch with one leg slung over the armrest, cordless phone pressed to her ear. Her voice was smooth, a smirk hiding just behind every syllable.
"Well, well. Lisa Minci. I thought you'd dropped off the face of the Earth."
The line crackled with static, then laughter.
"You're too funny, Arlecchino! But no—this time, no hospital visits. Just news. I've been hearing a lot about your little speed demon."
Arlecchino raised an eyebrow, her tone staying casual but her spine straightening ever so slightly.
"She's doing alright. Getting quicker every week."
"More than alright, according to what I heard. Apparently she's up against Ningguang this Saturday. Ten million on the line."
That got a pause. Arlecchino sat up, her expression shifting just slightly—something tightening behind the eyes.
"Ningguang, huh? That supposed to mean something to me?"
Lisa's scoff echoed down the line like she couldn't believe the question.
"You serious? You used to run Narukami's mountains, and you don't know that name? She's the fastest thing on four wheels in this prefecture. Even the guys in FOM shut up when she's on the road. Precision like a scalpel. No mercy. No mistakes."
Arlecchino's fingers curled around the phone. Something long dormant stirred in her gut—an old reflex, a cold calculation spinning up behind her eyes.
"Interesting."
Outside, the pressure washer clicked off.
Collei was rinsing the last of the suds from the side mirror, dragging a drying towel over the rear glass, face flushed with the effort, but calm.
Lisa's voice dropped, half-curious, half-teasing.
"So, who do you think takes it?"
Arlecchino chuckled low and quiet, the kind of laugh that used to make rival drivers flinch at the start line.
"I don't know," she said. "But Saturday's gonna be one hell of a show."
Lisa laughed again, sharp and bright.
"Gods, you haven't changed. Still terrifying."
"That was a lifetime ago."
In the background, someone called for Lisa—"Ms. Minci, the race is starting."
"Duty calls. Let's talk again soon."
"Count on it."
The line went dead with a soft click.
Arlecchino set the phone down, expression unreadable.
Then she rose to her feet and made her way outside.
The sky had bled into indigo, streaked with the last light of the sun. The crickets were out, filling the silence with their steady rhythm. Collei stood in front of the car, cloth slung over her shoulder, sweat sticking to her collarbones. Her work was done.
The AE86 glowed softly under the driveway lamp, every surface clean, every imperfection buffed away.
It didn't look like a legend.
But it was ready.
"Good as new," Collei murmured, stepping back.
From the doorway, Arlecchino watched in silence, arms folded, eyes soft with something close to pride—but still guarded, restrained.
She didn't say a word.
She didn't need to.
Then, without ceremony, she turned and headed back inside.
Collei remained where she stood, staring at the machine she'd tamed just hours before. She wasn't smiling. Not exactly.
It was something else.
Conviction.
The Eight-Six wasn't just a car anymore. It was her proving ground. Her partner. Her reflection.
And on Saturday, that reflection would be tested like never before.
That night, the mountain echoed with the sound of boost and fury.
Amber's Sileighty tore through the curves of the Yougou Lake pass, its headlights slicing through the dark like a pair of white-hot scalpels. The turbocharged SR20DET screamed at redline, gears slamming home with precise violence as the short shifter clicked into third, then second, then back to third in a seamless dance of throttle and clutch.
Collei gripped the passenger seat's bolstering tightly, knuckles pale, heart pounding—not out of fear, but admiration. The way Amber handled the car… it wasn't just skilled. It was intimate. The rear tires broke traction cleanly as she initiated a Scandinavian flick into a long right-hander, then snapped the wheel left to catch the slide. The turbo howled. The tail came out. And yet, she was calm, casual—like she was brushing her teeth.
"I gotta say, Amber... I'm impressed. You drive this well!" Collei shouted over the howl of wind and motor.
Amber flashed her a grin, eyes still locked on the next bend, heel-and-toeing without missing a beat. "Thanks, Collei! You know, I've been driving this course every day since I moved back. It's muscle memory now."
The corners came sharper as they neared the summit—the final hairpins notorious for chewing up inexperienced drivers. Amber didn't hesitate. Her foot stabbed the brakes, weight transferring forward with a violent jolt. The Sileighty's nose dipped; tires screamed as she downshifted with mechanical perfection, rear end stepping out in a calculated drift.
She countersteered with one hand and feathered the throttle with the other, balancing the Sileighty's weight like she was holding a glass sculpture in a hurricane.
The car glided sideways across the tarmac, tires grazing the white line with surgical precision before snapping back straight, screaming out of the apex and charging up the last incline.
At the summit, Amber lifted off the throttle. The engine note dropped from a fierce growl to a soft, satisfied purr. The road widened into a scenic overlook, perched just above the mirror-like surface of the lake below.
She rolled the Sileighty into a parking spot and killed the engine.
Silence returned—thick and surreal.
They stepped out into the still night. The air was crisp, touched by the high-altitude chill, and the sky was a velvet canopy stitched with stars. The lake below reflected it perfectly, like the heavens had poured themselves into the water.
Collei stood still, awestruck. "Look at that view… It's so peaceful."
Amber leaned on the wooden guardrail, her fingers curling around the weather-worn wood, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Yeah… it sure is..." Her voice softened, like she was speaking to a ghost only she could see.
Collei walked up beside her, the gravel crunching lightly beneath her sneakers. Her voice came gentler now, almost hesitant. "You know... this reminds me of when we were kids. Our parents used to bring us here—to bond, remember?"
Amber chuckled, the sound caught halfway between nostalgia and disbelief. "Yeah... those were the days."
The wind picked up, brushing strands of hair across their faces. Amber folded her arms, her voice growing more serious.
"And now, here we are again. Except this time… I know you're going to win this race."
Collei turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet resolve. "I hope so too, Amber."
A heavy silence settled over them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was grounding. The kind of quiet that lets every unspoken thing between two people hang in the air, wordless but known.
Then, Collei spoke again—this time quieter, her breath hitching just a little.
"Amber… you know something?"
Amber turned to her, brows raising. "Hm?"
Collei hesitated. Her chest rose and fell with one deep breath, her hands lightly trembling. Then she laughed, short and nervous, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"This feels just like the night we first met."
Amber blinked, then her eyes softened.
She remembered it instantly. The memory hit like a crash—young Collei, standing alone by the classroom door, too anxious to even say hello. Amber, wild and loud and fearless, dragging her into the light.
"How could I forget?" she said with a soft laugh. "You barely talked to anyone back then, and I was the hyper one, always making noise. Dragging you into conversations whether you liked it or not."
Her tone shifted, becoming something warmer, something more delicate.
"But look at you now. You're fearless. You're out here, racing down goddamn mountains, making legends out of tire smoke."
Collei's cheeks flushed a shade deeper, her eyes dropping to the gravel at their feet. "Well… I couldn't have done it without you, you know."
Then, slowly, she looked up again.
"You were always there for me—when no one else gave a damn. When I couldn't even speak to people. You were the one who picked me for group projects. The one who made me feel like I mattered."
Amber's breath caught. A stillness fell, like the mountain itself was holding its breath.
Collei stepped forward. Just one step. But her body betrayed her nerves—her fingers trembled, her knees slightly locked.
"Amber… there's something I need to tell you."
Amber turned to her fully now. Her posture relaxed, but her expression alert—focused. She reached out, gently taking Collei's hand, her thumb brushing the top in steady, soothing strokes.
"Yeah, Collei? What is it?"
Collei swallowed, then opened her mouth. Her voice cracked, but she didn't falter.
"I… I have feelings for you. M-more than just friendship."
She bit her lip, eyes filled with a dozen things—fear, hope, longing.
"You've been my light… my inspiration. And I think… I think I'm in love with you."
Amber froze for a heartbeat. Two. Three.
Then the words hit her like a wave she hadn't seen coming.
Collei stood there, vulnerable and exposed, waiting for judgment or rejection or silence—but none came.
Instead, Amber smiled.
Not wide. Not cocky. But warm. Real.
"Collei… I…" she began, voice hushed. Then she nodded.
"I've felt the same way since that night in Amakane."
Collei's eyes widened. "R-really? You mean it?"
Amber's grin grew. "Of course I do. You're incredible. Everything about you—the way you see the world, the way you fight through everything, the way you drive… You amaze me."
Collei's breath escaped her in a shaky laugh. Her whole body seemed to release the weight it had carried.
"Amber… I… I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to."
Amber stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, holding her close—tight, protective, like she never wanted to let go.
Collei melted into her, burying her face in Amber's shoulder. The scent of gasoline and wildflowers filled her senses. Her hands gripped the back of Amber's jacket like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
The stars shimmered above. The lake shimmered below.
And the rest of the world simply… faded.
Eventually, Amber pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.
"Collei," she said softly, "you're going to crush it on Saturday. I know you will."
Collei smiled through the haze of her emotions. "I'm going to try. I know Ningguang's fast, but… I'm not backing down. Not now."
Amber gave her hand a light squeeze. "That's my girl. No matter what happens, I'm proud of you. I always have been."
"Thanks, Amber," Collei murmured. "I… I couldn't have done this without you. You're everything to me."
Amber's thumb ran along her knuckles. "And you're everything to me."
The night wind moved softly through the trees. The lake murmured against the shore. Everything else was still.
Collei looked up at the sky, her voice barely above the breeze.
"I think I'm ready for whatever comes next."
Amber smiled. "I know you are."
They stood there, hand in hand, beneath the stars, two souls carved from the same mountain, shaped by speed, trust, and the quiet kind of love that doesn't scream—it drives.
And for the first time in a long, long while, Collei didn't feel afraid of the road ahead.
She felt ready to race it.
The following morning at the gas station…
Pela's white SW20 MR2 rolled into the gravel lot with a throaty growl, the high-pitched whine of the turbo spooling down as she eased off the throttle. The early morning sun glinted off the car's spotless pearl-white bodywork, highlighting the aggressive lines of its low-slung mid-engine design. The twin exhaust tips burbled softly as she parked beside the garage office, letting the engine idle for a few seconds before killing it with a practiced flick of her wrist.
She stepped out, dressed in her usual dark jacket and cargo pants, one hand casually swinging a small flash drive between her fingers.
"Yo!" she called out, grinning. "You guys are gonna want to see this."
March, already leaning against a stack of tires with her arms crossed and her expression way too smug for that early in the day, perked up. "Oooh! What is it this time? More 'homework,' Pela?"
Pela shot her a look and gave her a light tap on the forehead with the flash drive. "Not today, smartass. This one's about the race."
That line hit like a starter gun.
Beidou, standing with her arms folded at the garage entrance, straightened up. She narrowed one eye, her expression sharpening. "Something Collei needs to see?"
Pela nodded, her grin widening. "More like something all of us need to see."
Inside the office...
The small space reeked of gasoline, brake cleaner, and too many microwaved noodles. Pela shoved aside an empty ramen cup, plugged the flash drive into her scratched-up laptop, and within moments, folders of video files popped up on-screen. She double-clicked the first one.
The footage opened on a dimly lit intersection somewhere in Narukami Prefecture. Headlights buzzed in the distance, and the faint echo of revving engines filled the night air.
Beidou squinted. "This just looks like a random street battle."
"Give it a sec," Pela said, scrubbing forward to the moment that mattered. The camera zoomed tight on a white RX-7 FC3S, its body stock but impossibly clean, the rotary engine's distinct warble rising as it charged into a high-speed corner.
March raised an eyebrow. "That's just an FC. So what?"
"No," Pela said, her tone shifting. "That is her FC."
She let the next few seconds play out in silence. The RX-7 ripped through a hairpin, the rear end swinging wide in a perfect four-wheel drift—no understeer, no hesitation. It snapped back into line with surgical precision, the tires barely squealing, suspension compressed just right as it kissed the inside apex.
The clip ended with the FC coasting to a stop under a lone streetlamp. The driver's door cracked open. Out stepped a slim figure in a light jacket, long white hair catching the wind, and unmistakable golden eyes cutting through the shadows like twin blades.
March nearly choked on her breath. "HOLY SHIT—That's Ningguang!?"
Pela hit pause, freezing the screen on the younger Ningguang just as she looked toward the camera.
Beidou let out a slow, impressed whistle. "Damn… she must've been what, sixteen?"
Seele, arms crossed, leaned forward with a deeper frown. "That looks like Araumi's old north run. Pela, where the hell did you dig this up?"
Pela leaned back, folding her arms. "A buddy from my old team used to run in the Prefecture scene. They kept all kinds of race footage—archives, matchups, the works. These are six years old, back when she was known as the White Star of Araumi."
Beidou furrowed her brow. "So she was solo back then? Before Keqing?"
"Exactly," Pela said. "She built that rep all on her own. No team. No backup. Just raw, unfiltered skill."
Right then, the door creaked open and Lyney strolled in, hands in his pockets, scarf still dangling loose around his neck. "What's up, grease monkeys? What're we watching?"
Before anyone could answer, Seele slammed the laptop shut with a sharp snap.
"Nothing, Lyney."
Lyney held up his hands, laughing. "Whoa, okay, relax! I'm not here to blow up your secrets. Just curious."
Pela rolled her eyes and popped the lid open again. "Fine. You want in? Buckle up."
The next video played—this time a downhill battle through wet asphalt and fog. The camera car struggled to keep up as the RX-7 blazed ahead, each turn taken with impossible speed and control. Ningguang didn't just drive the road—she commanded it. Her inputs were razor-sharp, each countersteer and throttle tap calculated to the millimeter. She clipped apexes like she'd memorized the mountain's DNA.
No decals. No sponsors. Just her and the FC.
Lyney gave a low whistle. "So this is Collei's opponent?"
Seele nodded grimly. "That's the girl waiting at the starting line tomorrow night."
Beidou ran a hand through her hair, exhaling. "Shit… if Collei's not careful, this could be a bloodbath."
March snapped her gaze to Beidou. "Don't say that! Collei's gonna win, right?! She has to!"
Seele shook her head, her voice dropping. "You don't get it, March. Ningguang's not just fast. She's untouchable."
She clicked to the final clip—a brutal, downhill sprint where Ningguang's FC took the inside on a blind left-hander, shaving inches off the guardrail and leaving her opponent three car lengths behind by the next sector.
"She's never lost a race. Not in Araumi. Not in Chinju. Not even once."
March blinked. "Never?"
Seele stared at the screen. "And here's the worst part..."
She turned, locking eyes with everyone in the room.
"She says she's never gone full throttle. Not even once."
The silence hit like a dropped clutch.
Pela leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "That means Collei's not just fighting a ghost from the past. She's facing someone who's still holding back. And still winning."
March looked between them, her voice small now. "So… what do we do?"
Beidou stood up, the weight of it all sinking in. "We hope Collei's got something left in the tank. Because if she doesn't… she's not just gonna lose. She's gonna get humiliated."
Evening in Araumi — A Small Café
The sun melted into the horizon, casting long golden shadows across the worn cobblestone streets. Inside the quiet café, everything was tinted amber—the walls, the tabletops, even the steam curling up from the cups of coffee in front of Ningguang and Keqing.
Keqing scrolled idly through her phone before glancing up. "Got a message from a pro team in Inazuma City. They want to set up a meeting with you—talk future sponsorships. R&D backing. A real shot."
Ningguang didn't even look at her. She cradled her coffee cup, eyes fixed on the street outside. "Tell them no."
Keqing blinked. "No? Are you serious?"
Ningguang's tone didn't waver. "Dead serious."
"Why!?" Keqing leaned forward, incredulous. "You could be racing on circuits across the country. Get top-tier parts. Full support. You're wasting your talent staying here."
Ningguang finally turned to face her, lips curving into that calm, smug smile. "Because the streets are the only place that matter. Out there, there's no rules. No pit crews. Just me, the car, and the edge."
She took a slow sip. "The track? It's just a cage. A polished one, sure, but still a cage."
Keqing shook her head, defeated. "You're impossible."
"And yet," Ningguang said, smirking, "you've been following me since the beginning."
Keqing sighed, letting the argument drop for now. Outside, the sun dipped fully below the horizon.
Inside, there was only the quiet hiss of the espresso machine, the clink of porcelain, and the tension of something just beneath the surface—like two predators waiting for the hunt to begin.
Later That Night – Yougou, Near the Skating Rink
The midnight mist clung low to the road as the panda AE86's twin-circle headlights cut through the gloom, the hum of the 4A-GE engine sounding more sinister than usual. Arlecchino's Trueno slid into Lyney's gas station lot with a low growl, the idle throbbing faintly through the asphalt. She eased the window down with two fingers, her smirk already in place like a loaded gun.
"Yo, Lyney. You done polishing pumps? Let's take a ride. I want to test the new suspension tuning."
Lyney glanced up from inside the shop, his rag still looped around one hand. "With you?"
Her smile widened like a knife being drawn. "C'mon. I promise—it's an easy ride."
Lyney muttered as he locked up. "Sure… 'easy ride,' like a tiger's back is a couch."
Yougou Pass – The Ride Begins
The AE86 cruised into the dark canyon stretches of Yougou Pass, slicing through moonlight with its high beams. The rebuilt suspension soaked up the road's minor imperfections, but there was an underlying tension in the frame—like a caged animal waiting for the whistle to blow.
Lyney sat in the passenger seat, arms folded, gaze flicking nervously to the tach needle. It hovered around 4000 RPM—low for Arlecchino. Too low.
"So… just to be clear," he said, voice hesitant, "you didn't touch Collei's race settings, right?"
"I did," Arlecchino said flatly, both hands on the wheel, eyes locked dead ahead.
Then, just as casually, she added, "I'm about to push it. Hold on."
"Wait, right now—?"
She stomped the gas. The AE86 snapped forward with a sudden jolt, engine screaming as it pulled clean through second and third in a heartbeat. Lyney was thrown back into his seat as the car dove into the approaching corner like a predator diving for a kill.
"SHIT!" he yelped, grabbing the oh-shit handle with white knuckles.
Arlecchino's foot stabbed the brakes. The nose dipped hard. In a flash of motion, she downshifted—clack-clack—fourth to second, perfectly rev-matched. The rear snapped out, tires wailing against tarmac as she yanked the wheel and kicked the tail into a brutal drift.
G-forces slammed Lyney into the door. His vision blurred at the edges.
"I can feel the G-force pushing me out the window!" he screamed, half laughing, half terrified.
He turned to Arlecchino—
And saw nothing on the wheel.
She had let go. Completely.
Her left hand flicked a cigarette from a crumpled box. Her right hand struck a lighter.
"WHAT THE FUCK!? WHO'S DRIVING THE CAR!?" Lyney screeched.
The AE86 began to oversteer wide—far too wide. The guardrail loomed on the outside of the corner like a buzzsaw waiting for blood.
Just as the steel threatened to kiss paint, Arlecchino nonchalantly tapped the wheel back into alignment with her knee, the Trueno correcting mid-slide with terrifying smoothness. The rear end tucked back in line like a trained animal obeying its master.
She lit her cigarette, exhaled slowly, and muttered, "Still got it."
Lyney wheezed like someone drowning in adrenaline. "Still got it!? You almost put us into a fucking ravine!"
Arlecchino's smirk never faltered. "That was just a warm-up."
She flicked the gear lever down into second, throttle-blipped for flair, and crushed the gas again. The Trueno howled up the next straight, tires kissing the limit of traction as another hairpin loomed.
Lyney screamed again.
The Following Afternoon – Araumi, FC3S Tuning Session
The sunlight hit the white FC3S like a spotlight, gleaming off the bodywork that had been waxed down to perfection. Ningguang stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the cool metal, watching Keqing tweak the final settings on the coilovers.
"You've got just the right ride height now," Keqing said, tightening the last bolt and wiping her hands on a grimy rag. "So what's the verdict on the power output?"
Ningguang smiled faintly. "280 horses."
Keqing froze. "Two-eighty!? You downgraded?"
Ningguang's expression didn't shift. "I did."
"You had at least 350 last week! Why would you detune before a major race?"
"Because raw power is for drag strips," Ningguang said, stepping forward to close the hood with a crisp click. "On a downhill like Yougou? Weight balance, throttle modulation, and corner exit speeds matter more than brute force. Besides…"
She looked up toward the mountains.
"…this isn't a race about ego. It's about control."
Keqing muttered something under her breath and followed Ningguang to the car. The quiet streets of Araumi buzzed faintly with the coming storm, and the setting sun lit Ningguang's profile like a goddess carved from ivory and smoke.
"I'm not a team leader anymore, Keqing," she said softly. "I'm not racing for names or titles. I'm racing because this is who I am."
Keqing didn't reply. She didn't need to.
The Gathering at Lyney's Gas Station – 9:00 PM
The sound of turbochargers and straight-pipe exhausts echoed off every wall of the sleepy gas station as the Yougou faithful began to swarm in. Headlights cast strobe-like shadows as tuned machines rolled up—each with a different snarl, a different purpose. The air smelled of fuel, brake dust, and impending violence.
Lyney stood by the door, sipping a canned coffee, jaw tight.
"Looks like the whole damn prefecture's showing up tonight," he muttered.
Beidou arrived, slinging her duffel onto a bench. "Garage's locked up. Pumps shut. I'm heading out."
Lyney smirked. "Going to watch Collei lose, huh?"
Beidou frowned, serious. "I'm not saying she can't drive. But Ningguang… she's a fucking machine. Collei's just a high schooler with talent."
Before he could respond, the sound of a low, guttural roar swept through the lot.
Seele's Devil Z appeared first—gloss black and shimmering blue under the lights. The RB26 engine purred with menace. March's Supra followed close behind, blowing the occasional fireball. Pela's white MR2 and Amber's candy-red Sileighty brought up the rear.
The convoy revved in unison, a mechanical war cry.
"Later," Beidou said, climbing into the Devil Z's passenger seat.
Lyney watched them disappear into the dark, then shook his head and muttered:
"If Collei has a shot… it's only 'cause she inherited Arlecchino's crazy."
Yougou Pass – The Approach – 9:15 PM
The convoy hit the lower pass, engines echoing off the cliffside. Crowds already lined the roads—flashlights, cameras, drone buzz filling the air.
Beidou leaned out the window, scanning the masses. "We're about to witness something insane."
Five turns up, a deep blue GT86 parked at a rest area. The crowd murmured.
"Isn't that Amakane's old GT86?"
The driver stepped out. Icy blue hair. Cold stare.
Eula Lawrence leaned against the rail, scanning the switchbacks with sniper-like focus.
"This is the perfect spot," she whispered. "I want to see how far Collei's come."
Yougou Pass – Starting Line – 9:30 PM
The peak was a shrine to chaos. Crowds cheered and swelled. Someone flew a drone overhead. Spectators climbed guardrails to get a better view.
March looked at her phone. "It's almost time."
Then—the wail of a rotary.
Ningguang's FC3S crested the slope, its tri-point headlights slicing the dark. She eased the car to a stop, smooth as silk. The engine idled with a low hum, restrained and elegant. She stepped out, standing with arms folded, gaze hard.
"She's late," she said.
Keqing, nearby, shrugged. "She always is."
Ningguang didn't reply. She simply turned her head toward the crowd, eyes sharp, and said:
"The day I lose a race… is the day I retire."
Keqing blinked. "Wait, what?"
"I'll step down from the top," Ningguang said, almost casually. "But don't worry—I'm not planning on losing."
Just then—
An angry, high-pitched scream tore through the night.
The pop-up headlights of a black-and-white AE86 flared to life as Collei's Trueno rolled into view. No flair. No revving. Just that unmistakable sound of a perfectly tuned 4A-GE at 9000 RPM as it eased toward the line.
The crowd exploded.
"There she is!"
"She made it!"
"It's happening!"
Ningguang turned her head just slightly. Her expression didn't change—but her eyes locked onto the AE86 like a hawk locking onto prey.
Collei didn't even look at her. She parked. Engine still running. Lights still on. Her hands rested calmly on the wheel.
No fear. No nerves.
Just the road in front of her.
The battle was here.
And neither driver planned to lose.