The hands of the wall clock in the office crept past noon, the August heat bleeding through the thin glass windows. Daichi sat at his desk, headset on, one hand scribbling notes while his other clicked through a spreadsheet. His voice was calm, but his pen kept tapping. Negotiating with sponsors always pulled a different side out of him.
"Yes, I understand… two banners, one on the car and one at the pit wall. No, the hood space is already booked… Yes, that logo is fine, just send the high-res file."
Behind him, the workshop hummed with the sound of air tools and faint music from the radio. Suddenly a knock at the door didn't come. Instead, the door slammed open so hard it rattled the window blinds. Haruka burst in, slightly out of breath.
"Walter! Hide. Now." Haruka said with panic in his voice.
Walter, who had been perched on the couch scrolling through something on his phone, blinked. "Eh? Why?"
"Izamuri's here. I told him to wait outside, but if he finds you, it'll spoil everything. Especially with Daichi here…".
Walter frowned. "You never said I had to hide—"
"No time. Go!"
Before Walter could ask another question, Haruka was already pushing him toward the nearest window. It wasn't far to the ground. A short drop to the side alley where the workshop's wall met a strip of overgrown grass. Walter glanced once at the door, heard footsteps on the stairs, and decided not to risk it.
With a muffled curse, he swung a leg over and dropped, landing in a crouch. Walter dusted himself off, glancing around. The coast was clear. He made a brisk walk toward the back alley, turning the corner into the street until the warm, savory scent of broth hit him. He followed it straight into a narrow ramen shop squeezed between a laundromat and an electronics store.
Inside, two familiar figures sat hunched over steaming bowls.
"Oi, Walter!" Tojo called, waving his chopsticks. "What are you doing here?"
Walter squinted. "Better question — what are you doing here?"
Hojo, mouth half-full, shrugged. "Toilet break."
Walter raised an eyebrow. "...At a ramen shop?"
"Yeah," Tojo said without missing a beat. "We delegated our work to Hana and Ayaka. Teamwork."
Walter pinched the bridge of his nose and slid onto the stool next to them. "You two are unbelievable."
Back at the workshop, Haruka straightened his jacket, forcing his breathing to steady. Daichi was just wrapping up his call.
"Alright," Daichi said into the phone, "we'll finalize the sponsorship placement by Friday. Appreciate your time." He hung up and set the handset down.
Haruka was already leaning on the desk, lowering his voice. "If Izamuri asks, we were talking about your 3000GT. I'll handle the rest."
Daichi frowned but nodded. "Alright, but you're buying dinner if this backfires."
The door creaked open. Izamuri stepped in, wiping his hands on a rag, looking between them with mild suspicion.
"...What's going on?" he asked.
"Just discussing Daichi's 3000GT," Haruka said smoothly, folding his arms like it was the most ordinary thing in the world
.
Izamuri tilted his head but didn't press further for now and walks towards the door and stood in the doorway a moment longer, eyes flicking between Daichi and Haruka. He clearly suspected something, but whatever it was, Haruka's calm smile and Daichi's easy posture didn't give anything away.
"Well," Izamuri finally said, "I guess I'll get to work."
"Right," Haruka said quickly. "Actually… no. You're taking the rest of the day off."
Izamuri blinked. "Eh? I just got here."
"You had the suit fitting this morning," Haruka said, tone casual but final. "That's enough running around for one day."
"I'm fine, really," Izamuri replied, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. "I can still work. There's probably something in the garage that needs-"
Haruka was already crossing the room. Without another word, he reached out, grabbed Izamuri's wrist, and pulled him toward the stairs.
"Oi. what the-?" Izamuri stumbled after him, half protesting, half bewildered.
"You heard me," Haruka said, not breaking stride. "Take a walk. Get some fresh spring air. Go look at cherry blossoms or whatever it is normal people do."
"I'm not-"
"Or," Haruka cut him off as they reached the front door, "you can stay here and babysit the twins all afternoon."
Izamuri froze. "…I'll go for a walk."
"That's what I thought." Haruka opened the door and all but nudged him outside. The air carried the faint perfume of early-blooming sakura from the nearby park, mixed with the oily tang from the workshop. Izamuri sighed, hands shoved in his pockets, and started down the street. Haruka watched until the rookie rounded the corner, then stepped back inside, dusting his hands like he'd just finished a chore.
"That's one problem handled," he muttered. "Now…"
Something nagged at him. He glanced toward the far bay, where the faded red AE101 sat on the lift. It had come in that morning for a suspension service, and Haruka had told the twins to handle it. The problem was… the twins were nowhere in sight.
Instead, Hana and Ayaka were under the car, tools in hand, talking quietly about sway bar bushings. Haruka frowned.
"Oi," he called, stepping over an air hose. "Why are you two working on the AE101?"
Hana slid out on the creeper, wiping her hands on a rag. "Because somebody dumped it on us."
"Ayaka," Hana added, rolling her eyes, "tell him what Tojo said."
Ayaka kept working but smirked. "He said he was going to the toilet. And Hojo followed him. That was… forty minutes ago."
Haruka's brow furrowed. "You're telling me they ditched their job and left you two to do it?"
"Pretty much," Hana said, sliding back under the car.
Haruka sighed. He'd been in this game long enough to know the twins' "toilet breaks" were never toilet breaks. But still, disappearing in the middle of a job on a customer's car? That was a new level of audacity.
He was about to go searching when the side door creaked open. Walter walked in first, face unreadable. In each hand, he had a firm grip on an ear, one for Tojo, one for Hojo. The twins were bent slightly forward, walking in awkward half-steps to avoid making the ear-pinching worse. he dragged the Kaira twins into the workshop like a furious school teacher.
"Ow ow ow!" Tojo yelped, trying to twist free.
"You're gonna rip it off!" Hojo added, flailing uselessly.
Walter ignored them, his German accent thick as he scolded. "Skipping work to eat ramen while everyone else does your job? You think this is a holiday?"
Hana straightened from the AE101's engine bay, biting back a grin. "Found them?"
"Found them," Walter growled. "They were in the ramen shop down the street, arguing about who could eat faster while I walked in. I thought my eyes were lying."
Haruka folded his arms. "You're lucky I didn't send Izamuri to find you. He'd have thrown you both in a dumpster."
The twins pouted in unison. "It was just a break."
"You've been gone for forty minutes," Ayaka said pointedly.
Walter finally let go of their ears. "Back to work. Now."
Daichi, who had been watching the scene unfold with the faintest smirk, finally spoke. "If you're all done with the family drama, I actually have work for you."
Walter released the twins, who rubbed their ears like injured puppies. "Work as in…"
"As in, get back to the Corolla," Daichi said, nodding toward the lift. "And no more scenic routes. I've got enough rust in here without you two bringing in more from your personalities."
The twins sulked toward the AE101, muttering under their breath, while Walter brushed his hands off like he'd just wrangled wild animals.
"That should keep them busy," Haruka said.
But the peace didn't last long. From the far side of the workshop came a faint, muffled thump. Haruka frowned. "What was that?"
Walter tilted his head. "Sounded like it came from the storage room."
They walked over and opened the door, only for a roll of duct tape to fall out onto the floor. Inside, on the cold concrete, Rin sat bound to a chair, duct tape around his chest and wrists, a strip over his mouth. His eyes glared murderously over the gag.
Walter blinked. "What… the hell?"
Haruka peeled the tape off Rin's mouth.
"THEY-" Rin coughed. "They said they needed my help moving something, then jumped me!"
Haruka glanced back at the AE101 bay where the twins were suddenly working very quietly. "You duct taped him?" Haruka called out.
"No comment," Tojo said.
"Plausible deniability," Hojo added.
Walter rubbed his temples. "You two are going to be the death of me."
Rin yanked at the remaining tape around his wrists. "They said they'd let me go after lunch!"
Ayaka tossed him a box cutter. "Here. Free yourself."
Haruka sighed, looking at Walter. "You sure you don't want to throw them back into the ramen shop?"
Walter smirked. "Tempting. But no, they're your problem now."
As Rin freed himself, muttering darkly, Haruka took a mental note: whatever chaos the twins touched seemed to multiply. It was almost impressive.
At least Izamuri was far away, strolling through spring air, blissfully unaware of the fact that if he had stayed, he'd be knee-deep in this circus. Haruka just hoped it stayed that way until Saturday.
While Haruka wrestled with chaos back at the workshop, Takamori and Nikolai were across town, standing in the shadow of a massive white Hino Profia. The truck loomed in the cavernous modification bay, its cab freshly polished, its flatbed bare and waiting for the upgrades they'd discuss.
In front of them sat the Hino Profia — big, boxy, and bare. The paint was still a dull factory white, but Takamori already saw it in his head in glossy black with the G-Force logo emblazoned across the sides.
"Looks a bit… naked," Takamori said, hands in his jacket pockets.
Nikolai crouched by the frame, running a hand over the metal. "It's good. No rust, solid welds. Perfect skeleton to build on." His accent made every word sound like it carried absolute certainty.
The shop's lead fabricator, a stocky man named Ohta, wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. "So, you said you had some special requests?"
Takamori nodded. "Right. We're not just slapping on some shelves and calling it a day. We need this thing to be our pit garage on wheels."
He glanced at Nikolai, who produced a small notebook filled with neatly drawn diagrams.
"First," Nikolai began, flipping to a page, "hydraulic ramp system. Strong enough to lift at least two tons. That way we can load the EK9 even if we have to push it in dead."
Ohta whistled. "Two tons? That's more than most portable ramps we do."
"Exactly," Nikolai said. "We don't want it straining just because the suspension is compressed or the tires are slick with rain. Solid steel, good hydraulics, reliable."
Takamori leaned on the truck's side. "Second… built-in tool cabinets. None of that bolt-on crap that rattles loose after a year. Welded in. Drawers that lock. We want to open the doors at a track and be ready to work."
Ohta nodded slowly. "Custom compartments, recessed latches… yeah, we can do that."
"And third," Nikolai added, tapping the notebook, "communications. VHF and UHF radios, linked to the pit crew's headsets. Wired into the truck so we can set up a temporary comms base anywhere."
Takamori grinned. "Basically, we want this thing to be part workshop, part command center, part tank."
Ohta scratched his chin. "Not impossible… but not quick, either. You're asking for a lot of custom fabrication. Hydraulic ramp alone will take a couple weeks once the parts arrive."
"How long in total?" Nikolai asked.
Ohta hesitated. "A month. Minimum."
"A month?" Takamori groaned. "We've got our first round and a test session before that!"
"That's why I said 'minimum.'" Ohta shrugged. "Could be longer if we hit any delays. The ramp design's the biggest time sink, everything else is straightforward."
Takamori muttered something under his breath. Nikolai, however, was calm. "Then we need a temporary solution. Flatbed tow truck rental, yes?"
Ohta nodded. "Plenty of companies in Tokyo that'll rent you one. Won't have your tool storage or comms, but it'll get your car to the track."
Takamori sighed. "Guess we don't have a choice. I just hate showing up without the real setup. Makes us look… unfinished."
"Better to look unfinished than to be stranded," Nikolai said dryly.
They spent the next half hour with Ohta walking them around the Profia, pointing out where the hydraulic pistons would mount, where the tool cabinets could be built in along the passenger side, and the best location for the comms rack.
Takamori's imagination was already painting it in detail: the side door swinging open to reveal rows of gleaming tools, the ramp lowering with a hiss to unload the EK9, the team huddled inside around a radio during a rain delay.
"Think we can add an awning?" he asked suddenly.
Nikolai gave him a look. "You want an awning too?"
"Why not? Shade in summer, cover in rain. It's smart."
Ohta chuckled. "That's doable. Won't delay the build much either."
By the time they wrapped up the design discussion, the Profia looked much less "naked" in Takamori's mind and more like the future home base of G-Force. Still, the reality was it would sit in the shop for weeks, guts open, while the first race loomed closer every day.
Outside, the afternoon sun caught the chrome on a row of other trucks parked along the curb. Takamori shoved his hands deeper into his jacket. "So… flatbed, huh?"
"Flatbed," Nikolai confirmed. "We find one with good suspension, wide enough for the EK9. No point in renting a cheap one that'll bounce the car half to death on the highway."
"You're picky about everything," Takamori said, shaking his head.
"That's why I'm still alive," Nikolai replied without missing a beat.
They walked toward Takamori's R32 GTR, the sound of grinding metal from the shop fading behind them.
"First round's gonna be messy," Takamori said finally. "New team, rented truck, rookie driver…"
"Messy isn't bad," Nikolai said. "Messy means we learn."
Takamori smirked. "And what if we crash?"
"Then we learn faster."
The two of them climbed into the R32 GTR, the plan for the Profia set in motion even if it wouldn't be ready in time. For now, the rented flatbed would have to do. a humble stand-in until the real monster rolled out of the shop.
But Takamori couldn't help it. He glanced in the rearview mirror as they pulled away, already picturing that gleaming black hauler following them down the highway, the heart of G-Force's future rumbling in its diesel engine.