Gunma – 9:46 PM
Rain kissed the pavement in a steady rhythm, like the mountain had decided to cry quietly for itself.
Water pooled in the gutters. Mist coiled around the trees like smoke from a dying fire. The mountain didn't roar tonight.
It whispered.
Bunta Fujiwara sat behind the gas station with a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the ember dimming as the drizzle wet the edge of his collar. He hadn't moved in almost ten minutes.
Yuichi burst through the back door, newspaper covering his head. "You're seriously standing in the rain like that?"
Bunta didn't answer.
Yuichi squinted at him. "You feel that?"
Bunta blinked slowly. "The road's angry."
Yuichi laughed, then stopped when he realized Bunta wasn't joking.
Earlier That Day – 4:12 PM
A red 1983 Honda Civic pulled into the station. Nothing flashy — just a humble hatch with wide tires, cut springs, and a driver who thought too highly of himself.
Tanaka Ryoma.
Local. 19. Greasy hair. Loud mouth. Could drift halfway decent when nobody was watching.
He stepped out, flicking his keys in the air. "You Fujiwara?"
Yuichi poked his head out the garage. "No, but he's around."
Ryoma smirked. "Good. Tell him Tanaka's calling him out. Rain or no rain."
Yuichi raised an eyebrow. "Tonight? It's gonna be a storm."
Ryoma leaned in. "That mountain's only singing because it's afraid of me."
Yuichi scoffed. "More like it's laughing."
Ryoma pointed toward the sky. "Tonight, I shut down the legend."
10:22 PM – Akina Summit
The rain had gotten worse. Heavy now. Thicker. Blinding in patches.
Most of the regular crowd stayed away. Only a handful of soaked jackets and umbrella-covered heads gathered in the mist to witness what some called suicide.
Bunta stood by the Fairlady, expression unreadable. Water ran off the hood in streams, dripping into the puddles below like the car itself was breathing.
Yuichi jogged over, drenched. "You don't have to do this, man. The guy's not worth it."
Bunta lit a cigarette with a flick of his thumb, shielding it from the wind. "Neither was the last guy."
Yuichi groaned. "It's dangerous."
"So is standing still."
Tanaka revved the Civic hard. Loud. Sloppy.
"Let's go, ghost-boy," he barked. "Let's see if you float or drown!"
Bunta pulled on his seatbelt and rolled up the window.
No words.
Only a storm to answer for him.
Start Line – 10:37 PM
The cars launched like arrows from a soaked string.
The Civic skidded immediately, back end twitching, tires hydroplaning slightly as it tried to grip. Tanaka fought the wheel, swearing under his breath, trying to muscle the car into line.
The Fairlady?
It didn't fight the mountain.It flowed with it.
Mid-Sector
Visibility: nearly zero.
Tanaka leaned forward, nose to windshield, wipers at full speed.
Every corner felt like guessing. Every drift was a gamble.
He took the outside line once — skidded into the gutter, caught it just barely.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
And that's when he saw it.
A faint flash of taillight, cutting through the fog like lightning across a battlefield — disappearing again into the next bend like it was never there.
Meanwhile – Overlook Ridge
Ken Kogashiwa stood under a shared umbrella with a man from Tokyo, silent as the storm poured around them.
Down below, two cars flashed across the mountain.
The Tokyo man turned. "That the one?"
Ken nodded once. "He listens."
Final Stretch
Tanaka went wide again, the water eating into his traction. He floored it on the straight, finally catching a glimpse — the back end of the Fairlady slicing sideways through a drenched turn, kissing the inside like it knew every drop of water personally.
Tanaka growled.
"No way… no way this guy's real—"
Then he blinked — and Bunta was gone.
At the Bottom
The Fairlady was already parked.
Steam hissed from its hood.
Bunta stood outside, arms crossed, rain dripping off his hair.
The Civic pulled in seconds later, headlights flickering. Tanaka stepped out, soaked, defeated, and silent.
Yuichi handed Bunta a towel. "You ever think you're scaring people on purpose?"
Bunta didn't respond.
Instead, he turned his head — toward the shadows up the ridge.
Where two faint figures stood. Watching.
Ken's voice echoed faintly across the distance.
"One day," he said. "We'll meet properly."
That night — Gas Station, Closed
Yuichi and Bunta sat inside, steam rising from their clothes as they dried off.
"You've changed," Yuichi muttered. "You're not just beating these guys anymore. You're… dissolving them."
Bunta stared out the fogged window.
"No. I'm still learning."
Yuichi looked at him sideways. "From who?"
Bunta didn't answer.
Outside, the mountain slept — but something deeper had awakened.