In the quiet suburbs outside Tokyo, the streetlamps cast long amber streaks across the pavement as Agnes Tachyon, Manhattan Cafe, and Akio stood beside the Midnight Blue S30Z. The cooling night air clung lightly to their clothes, and the freshly detailed paint of the Z reflected the porch lights of Akio's home.
Akio turned toward Tachyon with an earnest smile.
"Congratulations, Ms. Tachyon. I really hope you enjoy her. With all the work put into this machine, you genuinely got a bargain."
Tachyon gave a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of her neck as she glanced at the car.
"Heh. Yeah… well, I'll take good care of her for you. I know how much this thing means to you."
Manhattan Cafe bumped Tachyon's shoulder lightly.
"And remember to transfer the registration to your name tomorrow. We don't want you getting a visit from the police a week from now."
Tachyon scoffed.
"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to remind me."
Cafe shook her head slowly.
"Knowing you, you'd forget by sunrise."
Tachyon let out a small huff and shrugged.
"Maybe. But who knows. The night is still young."
Cafe walked back toward her Porsche, the streetlamp overhead glinting off the carbon fiber skin.
"Well, signal me when you're ready to move."
Tachyon turned back to Akio, extending a hand.
"It was nice meeting you."
They shook hands firmly. Akio gave a small nod.
"Drive safe. She's a feisty one when you push her, especially with all the power she's got."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," Tachyon replied.
With that, she walked over to the right-side driver's door of the S30Z. She grasped the slim door handle, pulled, and the lightweight panel swung open with a mechanical click. She stepped into the car, lowering herself into the deep Recaro bucket seat. The cushion hugged her sides, immediately locking her body into place.
She reached under herself, gripping the bar beneath the seat, sliding it forward and back until the positioning felt natural. Then she tested the pedals—pressing the clutch all the way down, letting her foot hover over the gas, checking the travel.
It felt right.
Good sign.
She placed both hands on the wheel—thumbs resting lightly at the inside edges of the spokes. The suede-wrapped rim felt worn but trustworthy.
Without hesitating further, Tachyon grabbed the green Takata shoulder straps. She pulled them over her arms, clipped the latch into the cam-lock buckle, and twisted until everything tightened snugly against her chest and hips. She exhaled once, satisfied.
Then she pulled the golden ignition key from her pocket and slid it into the ignition slot. She turned the key to ACC.
A soft electrical whir filled the cabin. The gauges lit up in a warm glow—speedometer, tachometer, boost gauge, and various auxiliary dials humming to life.
She turned the key further.
The starter engaged.
After a second-long crank, the 3.1-liter stroked L28 twin-turbo engine snarled awake. The idle oscillated in a deep, steady rhythm—uneven at first, then settling to a controlled rumble. Tachyon's eyes moved around the dashboard, watching every gauge needle stabilize.
And then that strange feeling washed over her again.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel spokes.
"…There it is again," she whispered to herself. "Why do I feel like I've driven this before…? I've never even sat in it until now."
The sensation clung to her chest—a faint déjà vu, unsettlingly familiar.
She shook her head slightly and reached for the headlight stalk. She flicked the switch, flashing her high beams toward Manhattan Cafe.
Cafe immediately responded, firing up the swapped twin-turbo M64/50 flat-six in her Porsche 930 Turbo. The Blackbird rumbled loudly, its exhaust note sharp and aggressive even at idle. Cafe rolled down her window and signaled Tachyon forward.
Tachyon pressed the clutch, slotted the gearstick into first, and gently fed the car some throttle. The Z crept forward quietly, its exhaust surprisingly calm compared to its performance potential. She kept the revs low, moving slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping neighborhood.
Tachyon waved a final goodbye toward Akio as she passed.
Akio waved back, his expression a blend of pride and melancholy. He watched as the Midnight Blue Z rolled away, its taillights glowing faint red in the distance before disappearing around the corner.
He sighed softly.
"I'm gonna miss that car."
A pair of footsteps approached from behind. A woman joined him—Reina, leaning her head gently on his shoulder as the last glimpse of the Z vanished.
"Did you really have to get rid of the Z, Akio-chan?" she asked quietly.
Akio gave a small, tender smile.
"Of course I did, Reina-san. Our family's growing. We can't afford to keep a heavily modified sports car around. Not right now."
Reina sighed, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
"I'm going to miss that car."
Akio wrapped an arm around her.
"Tell you what. Once we've got the budget… we'll build our own Devil Z."
Reina smiled softly, nodding.
"I'd like that, Akio."
A block away from Akio's home, the small residential lane widened into a broader, smoother strip of asphalt. The two-car convoy eased onto it—Tachyon in the Midnight Blue S30Z leading, Manhattan Cafe following close behind in the Blackbird.
The moment Tachyon saw the road ahead was completely empty, her instincts twitched.
She checked her mirrors.
Left clear.
Right clear.
Cafe still behind her.
Her fingers tightened around the gearstick.
She clicked the shifter from fourth, guided it across the gate, blipped the throttle with a sharp heel-toe motion, and slotted it into first gear. The revs jumped perfectly.
The instant the gear engaged, she pressed the clutch out and buried her right foot into the accelerator.
At first, the Z moved with a restrained surge—turbos still spooling.
Then the boost spiked.
The engine howled.
The rear tires erupted into wheelspin, shrieking as the car fishtailed slightly. The chassis vibrated violently through the seat and steering column. Tachyon gritted her teeth and tightened both hands around the wheel to steady the car.
Redline.
She slammed the clutch, yanked the shifter into second, and dropped it again.
The rear tires broke loose again, screeching as the Z surged forward with explosive force. The entire rear end wiggled left and right like it wanted to break free from her control. Tachyon counter-steered with quick, precise movements—micro-corrections, wrist flicks, steady pressure.
She kept her foot down.
Turbo whistles grew louder.
She shifted into third. This time traction started to hold, the acceleration pushing her firmly into the bucket seat. The boosted L-series engine roared with an unmistakable fury that rattled every bolt in the cabin.
After a few more seconds, Tachyon finally lifted off the throttle. The Z's nose dipped slightly as the blow-off valves hissed sharply, venting excess boost into the cool night air.
Tachyon blinked, breath catching in her chest.
"…Holy shit," she murmured. "Akio wasn't kidding. This thing hits like a freight train."
Just then, her phone—resting in the passenger-side bucket seat—buzzed violently. The vibration echoed through the cabin.
She reached over, tapping the answer button and hitting speaker mode.
"Cafe?"
Manhattan Cafe's voice came through immediately, almost shouting over the sound of her own flat-six engine.
"Holy moly, Tachyon! You are flying! Take it easy! Try to make it to the Wangan in one piece!"
Tachyon burst into a laugh, shaking her head as she kept her right hand lightly on the wheel.
"I'll try my best!"
Behind her, the Porsche's headlights followed steadily, the turbocharged flat-six snarling as Cafe matched pace.
Together, the two cars surged down the wide suburban road, closing in on the on-ramps of the Shuto Expressways—heading straight for the glowing arteries of Tokyo's Wangan.
As the minutes slipped by, the city grew quieter and the sky above the Shuto faded into a deeper shade of black. The time was now nearing midnight.
Maruzensky and Grass Wonder continued their steady cruise down the expressways, the Countach's twin-turbo V12 humming with a controlled, restrained note. Their trip was close to its end.
Grass Wonder sat with her arm resting lightly against the passenger-side window, eyes drifting over the neon reflections sliding along the guardrails and noise barriers. The endless ribbons of streetlights flickered across her face.
Maruzensky kept both hands firmly on the wheel, lightly correcting the car's direction with small inputs of her wrists. Her posture was relaxed, but she drove with the quiet precision of someone who had spent decades reading these roads like a second language.
It was Grass Wonder who broke the silence.
"Maru-chan. I need to ask you something."
Maruzensky flicked her eyes toward the right, keeping the Countach steady with her left hand.
"What's on your mind, Grass?"
Grass Wonder shifted in her bucket seat. "Is the Devil Z really as powerful as you say? I mean… the way you talk about it. It sounds less like a car and more like some kind of supernatural monster. And the name. Devil. Who even names a car that?"
Maruzensky exhaled sharply through her nose. "There's a reason it earned that name. And it's not a—"
She stopped.
Her right ear twitched. Her eyes darted to the side-view mirror.
Trailing them now was a familiar silhouette.
A Bayside Blue Nissan R34 GT-R, its iconic quad tail lights glowing like four red embers.
Maruzensky smirked. "Well well… look who's behind us."
But then her ears twitched again.
From behind—faint at first—came the rising howl of engines being pushed hard. Two engines. Two straight-six turbos climbing through the rev range.
One of them let out the distinctive bark of wheelspin through second gear.
Maruzensky's eyes sharpened. She glanced forward as they approached a long on-ramp leading toward another section of the Wangan.
And then she saw them emerge from the on-ramp's curve.
First, a black Porsche 930 Turbo—low, wide, unmistakable. Its round headlights cut through the dark, the air-cooled flat-six screaming as it clawed for speed.
Behind it, or rather ahead of it—forcing the Porsche to chase—was a Midnight Blue Nissan S30Z. A machine whose presence alone made the hairs on Maruzensky's arms stand.
Her pupils narrowed.
"Holy… it's returned."
Grass Wonder blinked. "What returned?"
Maruzensky pointed at the Z carving its way onto the main lane in front of the 930.
"That black Porsche Turbo is Manhattan Café. The car right in front of her? That is the Devil Z."
Now all four cars were aligned on the same stretch. The Countach and GT-R trailing. The Blackbird and the Devil Z ahead.
Inside the S30Z, Tachyon glanced into her rear-view mirror. She could see the Porsche's headlights, blazing like two white suns locked onto her.
"So. Café behind me. Maruzensky farther back. And that blue GT-R joining in too."
She smirked, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Her right hand slid down and adjusted the harness strap across her chest.
"Well then… if this thing is called a Devil, let's show them its horns."
She slammed her right foot onto the accelerator.
The Z lunged forward. Boost surged violently. The chassis trembled as the rear tires broke traction for a second before hooking back into the asphalt. The needle climbed past 5,000, then 6,000, then 7,000 rpm.
Behind her, Café narrowed her eyes and grinned.
"Alright. If that's how you want it… the old Blackbird versus Devil rivalry continues."
She dropped the Porsche from fifth down to third. The shifter clicked into place with a mechanical clack. She floored the pedal—boost building instantly. The 930 shot forward.
Farther back, in the Countach, Maruzensky tightened her jaw.
"You might want to recheck your harness, Grass-chan. Because we're not sitting this one out."
Grass Wonder's eyes went wide. "Wait. We're what—?"
Maruzensky didn't answer.
She pressed the clutch, pulled the gated shifter into second, and then buried the accelerator. The turbos spooled. The Countach threw itself forward with a roar.
Behind them, the R34 GT-R downshifted as well, exhaust cracking loudly as it joined the pursuit.
And just like that—
Four monsters of the Wangan were unleashed together.
The Devil Z.
The Blackbird.
The Twin-Turbo Countach.
And the Bayside Blue R34 GT-R.
Midnight on the Shuto had just become a battlefield.
The four cars surged past 200 km/h with ease, engines howling in unison as they blasted down the Ichinohashi route heading north toward the inner C1 loop. At this hour the road was practically empty, leaving nothing but concrete, guardrails, and the echo of turbochargers.
They approached the first junction. One by one, the machines swept through the transition lane and merged into the Inner Circular Route without a single change in position.
Café held her place just behind Tachyon's S30Z, the Porsche's air-cooled flat-six screaming as it kept pace.
"I have to give it to you, Tachyon," Café said into her headset, glancing ahead. "You actually have some skill."
But then she caught movement on her right.
Maruzensky's red twin-turbo Countach was sliding into the adjacent lane, closing fast.
Café smirked. "You never change, do you, Maruzensky?"
The Countach swept past her Porsche, the gated shifter likely clacking through gears as Maruzensky positioned herself directly behind the Devil Z.
The pack entered another junction, veering left to continue along the Inner Circular Route. The curves tightened, the lane markings blurring as they carved their way forward.
Then came a sharper right-hand corner—one of the more infamous bends of the C1.
Maruzensky braked hard, the Countach's nose dipping as she heel-and-toed through fourth, third, and down to second. The turbos hissed as the revs matched cleanly.
Tachyon didn't brake yet.
Not until the last possible moment.
Then—
She stomped the brakes.
Hard.
The Z shuddered under the sudden deceleration. She downshifted rapidly—fourth, third, second—blipping the throttle with crisp precision. The right-side brakes locked for a split second.
The rear stepped out violently.
Tachyon's eyes widened, but her hands reacted instantly. She countersteered only a touch, not too much, keeping the chassis just barely under control.
Then she eased into the throttle.
The Devil Z swept through the corner in a smooth, controlled four-wheel drift—barely any countersteer, the entire body gliding sideways like it weighed nothing at all.
Maruzensky's eyes sparkled. "He still knows how to drive that thing… incredible."
Grass Wonder turned toward Maruzensky again. "Okay. Now I really need to know. What is with the Devil nickname?"
Up ahead, the Z straightened out cleanly and began pulling away once more, its tail end dancing with each throttle input.
Maruzensky shifted up, the Countach's shifter clicking through the gate, the turbos spooling down slightly between gears. She stayed on the attack.
"The reason it's called a Devil," she began, "is because of how impossibly difficult it is to drive."
She pointed ahead at the Z for emphasis, then immediately returned her hand to the wheel.
"The car is oversteery in the rear while still being understeery in sharp corners. To make it through a turn properly, you have to force the rear to slide just enough to counter the front end's push."
She shifted again, the Countach howling as she pushed toward the Z.
"And that's not all. It's extremely light, far too powerful for its weight, and it can spin its tires all the way into third gear. On the Bayshore Route? It reaches over 350 kilometers per hour."
Grass Wonder stared at her. "Really? That fast?"
"Yes," Maruzensky said without hesitation. "That fast."
The race intensified—engine notes rising, headlights flashing across tunnel walls—but just as the chase reached its peak…
The Devil Z dropped speed.
Tachyon backed off the throttle. The Z slowed further, letting the Countach, the Blackbird, and the R34 all pass her one by one.
Then the Z flashed its hazard lights three times.
Inside the cockpit, Tachyon was breathing hard. Her hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel, her eyes wide.
She had done it.
She had controlled the Devil Z.
"H-how…? I drifted that corner like it was nothing," she murmured aloud. "I can barely drift at all. But that… that felt different. Natural."
Up ahead, Maruzensky's voice softened with genuine relief.
"Glad to see an old friend back on the road."
Grass Wonder raised her eyebrow. "You mean that?"
Maruzensky nodded. "I do. Racing on the Wangan… it's rare enough to even encounter the Devil Z. But to race alongside it? And with other Umas? That is rarer still."
The four cars continued onward at normal speed now, engines settling down from their high-rpm frenzy. The city lights washed over them as they cruised side by side.
But Tachyon slowed further, falling back to keep a comfortable distance. Her heart was still pounding, her mind racing with what she had just accomplished.
The Devil Z was tame.
For the first time in decades.
And no one quite understood how.
The group exited the Inner Circular Route and coasted into Tatsumi Parking Area, the open expanse of concrete illuminated by yellow sodium lights. Even at midnight, the place buzzed faintly with the presence of other late-night drivers and idling engines.
Maruzensky and Grass Wonder arrived first.
Grass Wonder popped open her scissor door, lifting it upward before sliding out of the Countach. She stretched her arms, then casually walked toward the vending machine, the cold night air brushing past her.
Maruzensky opened her own scissor door, unbuckled her seatbelt, and shifted her weight to sit on the door sill. From there, she leaned out and looked backward—standard Countach procedure. She eased the car into reverse, hands steady on the wheel, turning her head to keep track of the space behind her.
Once the rear tires aligned cleanly with the parking lines, she eased off the clutch and brake, shifting into neutral. She flicked the ignition, the V12 rumble fading as the car shut down. Stepping out, she lowered the scissor door behind her with a firm thud.
Maruzensky approached Grass Wonder.
"That was one hell of a ride, huh?"
Grass Wonder nodded, cracking open a can of coffee. "I'll hand it to you… that was some fine driving."
A pair of engines echoed in the distance.
The carbon-black Porsche 930 Turbo—Blackbird—and the Bayside Blue R34 GT-R rolled into Tatsumi PA. The Porsche parked first, the signature flat-six spooling down as Manhattan Café stepped out, closing her door with a quiet push.
She eyed Maruzensky and Grass Wonder.
"Figures you two would be in the Countach."
Maruzensky folded her arms with a grin. "And what makes you say that, Café-san?"
Café chuckled as she walked over, hands still in her jacket pockets.
"Of all the cars I can identify by sound alone, yours stands out the most."
Maruzensky laughed, giving her a quick thumbs up. "You know me too well, Café-san."
Café shrugged. "More like I know that car too well."
The R34's engine cut off next. Its door opened, and Tokai Teio stepped out, shutting it gently behind her.
Maruzensky raised her voice. "Didn't know you had that much skill in your Thirty-Four, Teio!"
Teio smoothed her jacket, approaching the group with a confident grin.
"Well, I can't just sit in the dorm watching driving technique videos all day. I have to put it into practice out here."
As she joined them, her tone shifted. "Speaking of techniques… you all saw that S30Z, right?"
Everyone nodded.
Teio continued, "That Z just pulled off a perfect four-wheel drift on that corner."
Café exhaled through her nose, nodding. "You're telling me."
She glanced toward the exit, her expression unreadable.
"And they still have no idea who the current owner is," she muttered barely above a whisper.
Maruzensky took a long sip of her fresh can of coffee. "I'm just glad to see that Z—and its driver—doing alright. It's been a long time since I last saw him out there."
She reached into the vending tray again and offered a can toward Teio.
"Want one, Teio?"
Teio waved her hand. "No thanks. I'll take a cup of Hachimi when I get back to the dorm."
Maruzensky chuckled. "Suit yourself."
Café leaned against her Porsche, staring off toward the entrance of the PA. The growl of the Devil Z still lingered faintly in her ears.
Then it came—the familiar, sharp report of a straight-six twin-turbo downshift echoing through the entrance ramp.
All three Uma drivers turned their heads toward the sound.
The Midnight Blue S30Z appeared under the overhead lights, its headlights dimming as it rolled into Tatsumi PA.
Maruzensky let out a long breath, her shoulders easing.
"Glad to see he made it too…"
Teio nodded. "Considering that car is a legend, I'm surprised it still holds up at this level."
The Z eased past them, Tachyon keeping the revs low. She turned the wheel smoothly, lining the rear bumper between Café's Blackbird and Teio's GT-R. She eased onto the clutch, backed into the space with a controlled creep, then straightened out.
The engine gave a final throaty pulse before Tachyon turned the key and shut it down. The idle dropped, the mechanical whine fading into silence.
Inside the cockpit, Tachyon exhaled, unbuckling the Takata harness and letting the shoulder belts fall to her sides. She looked into the side mirror.
Waiting outside were Maruzensky, Café, Grass Wonder, and Teio.
Only Café already knew the truth.
Tachyon inhaled deeply—then released the breath slowly. She grabbed the door handle, pushed the driver's door open, and stepped out into the cool night air.
The reaction was immediate.
Maruzensky's jaw dropped. Grass Wonder froze mid-sip. Teio's ears folded downward in pure shock. Their tails went still, their expressions identical.
In unison, all three shouted:
"Tachyon?!"
Tachyon closed the door gently and turned to face them.
"Hey there," she said casually, raising a hand in greeting.
They rushed toward her.
Maruzensky was the first to get close.
"Tachyon! You drove the Devil Z?!"
Teio jumped in right after.
"Did you steal it for one of your experiments? Or did you actually buy it?"
Tachyon gave her a slow, unimpressed stare.
"Look… I may act insane with my experiments, but I did buy this car. Thank you."
Maruzensky blinked. "Wait… you bought it?"
Tachyon nodded.
"The former owner—Akio. He was selling it. Didn't have the budget to keep maintaining a heavily modified machine like this. The car was fresh from service, so he let it go."
Grass Wonder stepped closer. "How much did you pay for it?"
Tachyon turned to look at the Z, her hand brushing the roof lightly.
"Three million yen."
Maruzensky's mouth fell open again.
"Three million… for a Wangan legend?"
Teio crossed her arms, nodding slowly.
"That's quite a steal, Tachyon. Really."
Tachyon shrugged slightly. "Yeah. It is."
Café finally spoke.
"We actually got the car not too long ago."
Maruzensky snapped her attention toward her.
"And you knew this and didn't tell us?"
Café scoffed.
"Tell you while we were driving? Not like it'll stay hidden forever. You would've figured it out soon enough."
Maruzensky sighed. "Fair point."
She stepped forward and placed a hand on Tachyon's shoulder.
"Well then, Tachyon-san…"
She grinned.
"Welcome to the Uma Car Club."
Tachyon gave a small laugh.
"Gee… thanks?"