Gold Ship's whisper was loud enough to be heard three rooms away.
"Shhh, Mayano, this is delicate recon!"
"I am being quiet!" Mayano Top Gun whispered back, bouncing on her heels with the energy of a sugar-high child.
The two were crouched outside the barely open door to the headmaster's office, their heads comically close together as they peered inside like schoolkids spying on a teacher's private stash of snacks.
"...What are you doing?"
McQueen's voice came from behind them, flat as stone. The two jumped in sync, but immediately turned and pressed a finger to their lips in exaggerated unison, silencing her before she could say another word.
Gold Ship's grin widened, and she jerked her head toward the crack in the door. "You gotta see this, McQueen. Trust me."
McQueen rolled her eyes. "This had better not be another one of your—"
"Shh!" Mayano hushed her, tugging her by the sleeve. "Just look!"
Suppressing a sigh, McQueen leaned forward to peer into the room.
Inside, Akuma stood before a large whiteboard, marker in hand, his eyes fixed on a stack of papers spread across the desk. On the board, a meticulously drawn race track wound in precise curves, each bend and straight marked with numbers, times, and notations McQueen couldn't fully decipher. A smaller board beside it bore a neat list of names—hers, Special Week's, Teio's, Nice Nature's, King Halo's… and even Silence Suzuka's.
Her brows furrowed. What is he…
"What's he doing?" she murmured under her breath.
"Why, research, of course."
McQueen nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to find Adal standing behind her, leaning casually against the wall with his usual air of effortless poise.
Mayano and Gold Ship froze, eyes wide.
Adal's smile brightened. "That—" he gestured toward the room with a flourish "—is the specialty of the Demon King."
Before McQueen could ask what he meant, Mischa stepped into view, striking a dramatic, muscular-esque pose with his sunglasses tilted down just enough to reveal his eyes. "The ability to analyze anything that could and will influence a race… and plan accordingly."
McQueen gave them both a deadpan stare. "You two have way too much fun doing this."
Unbothered, Adal straightened his coat. "Mock it if you wish, but this is serious. You've only known him for a short while, but we haven't seen him this focused on a race in years."
Mischa's grin softened, and he added in a quieter tone, "You picked the right trainer, McQueen. Trust me on that."
Something in their voices made McQueen hesitate. "Does… this have something to do with Tachyon?" she asked cautiously.
The two exchanged a glance, then shook their heads in perfect sync.
"No," Adal said with a light chuckle. "This is… different. But I think he should be the one to tell you." He pushed off the wall and began to walk away.
Mischa followed with a quick nod, but not before flashing one last playful grin. "See you on the track." Then he bolted down the hallway, as if to avoid further questions.
McQueen stared after them, brow furrowed. Different? Then what is—
A faint shift in the air made her ears twitch.
Her pulse quickened. Slowly, she turned—
And found herself looking straight into Akuma's eyes.
He was standing directly behind her, silent as a shadow, marker still in hand. His gaze was unreadable, but there was a weight to it, a presence that made even the unflappable McQueen straighten instinctively.
She opened her mouth to speak—
And he simply said, in that calm, even tone of his, "We need to talk."
McQueen glanced over her shoulder, only to realize the hallway was now completely empty. Gold Ship, Mayano, Adal, Mischa—every single one of them had mysteriously evaporated, leaving her alone in the doorway with Akuma.
Her ears lowered slightly as she let out a reluctant sigh. "Alright… I understand. I'm sorry."
Akuma blinked, tilting his head slightly. "Sorry? For what?"
She hesitated. "…For interrupting you earlier."
He gave her a small, puzzled frown, then shrugged. "Uh, no need. It's fine if it's you."
The words slipped out so naturally, so casually, that neither of them processed the implication right away. But when they did—both froze, their gazes darting away at the same moment. McQueen's cheeks took on the faintest pink hue, and Akuma scratched the back of his neck as if to brush the moment off.
"Right, uh… come in." He stepped back, gesturing her into the office.
Inside, the whiteboards were even more packed with information up close—arrows, circles, notations so dense that McQueen felt her head spin just trying to read them. Papers were spread in neat stacks, and several diagrams of different race tracks had been tacked to the wall.
Akuma moved with purpose, picking up a marker and gesturing toward a diagram of the Hopeful Stakes course. "Alright, here's the breakdown. Teio thrives at keeping pace with the pack and bolting at the final lap. Nice Nature will stall—she's a master at disruption and controlling the race's tempo. Silence…" He tapped another part of the board. "Silence will bolt out of the gate instantly. She'll aim to grab the lead early, force others to chase her pace."
McQueen nodded, her eyes following every motion.
"And King Halo," Akuma continued, "does the opposite—she'll hang back at the start, then strike hard in the later stages. That unpredictability makes her dangerous."
He stepped away from the board, a faint smirk forming—one that was sharper, darker… almost predatory. It was a look McQueen had seen only a few times before.
"But…" he said, reaching into a file and pulling out a folded piece of paper, "…they'll never expect this."
McQueen took the paper and opened it. Her brow furrowed as she studied the contents—a sequence of pace changes and positioning instructions that looked almost counterintuitive at first glance. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, looking up at him.
Akuma's smirk deepened, but his tone softened. "I believe in you."
Her grip on the paper tightened, her earlier doubts melting into a confident smile. "Of course."