November.
The peak month of autumn.
The air had finally lost the lingering warmth of summer, replaced by a cool, crisp breeze that swept across Japan. The skies were clearer now, a deep blue stretching uninterrupted over the cities and countryside, while the trees had erupted into brilliant shades of red, orange, yellow, and gold.
Across the mountains, entire forests looked as though they had been painted by hand.
Leaves drifted lazily across roads and sidewalks.
The mornings carried a faint chill.
The afternoons were cool enough to be comfortable without being cold.
And for the first time in nearly two years, the weather seemed almost perfect.
It was the kind of November people looked forward to.
A season for quiet walks.
A season for warm drinks.
A season for looking back.
Because the year had been anything but quiet.
The past twelve months had been filled with action, triumph, setbacks, rivalries, accidents, comebacks, and more than a few moments that had left the entire racing world holding its breath.
The Twinkle Series had once again delivered everything it promised.
And now, with November settling in, the racing calendar was approaching its final stretch.
There was only one major race remaining.
The Arima Kinen.
The final race of the year.
One of the two All-Star races on the Japanese racing calendar, alongside the Takarazuka Kinen.
Unlike most races, where the field was determined primarily through conventional qualification, the Arima Kinen carried something different with it.
It was a race shaped by the fans.
A race where the public could have their say.
A race where the stars of the season gathered together on the same stage.
And because it was the final major race of the year, the Arima Kinen had always carried an atmosphere unlike anything else.
For some, it was a celebration.
For others, it was unfinished business.
For others still, it was one last opportunity to end the year on a high.
But before that final race arrived, there was another story dominating the headlines.
A story that had effectively defined the latter half of the season.
The story of one particular Umamusume.
King Halo.
Her name had been everywhere.
On television.
Across newspapers.
On racing websites.
On magazine covers.
Across social media.
Even on enormous electronic billboards in Tokyo.
The headlines seemed almost endless.
"King Halo Wins the Shuka Sho!"
"King Halo Completes the Triple Tiara!"
"King Halo Becomes the First Ever Double Slam Recipient!"
"History Made at Kyoto!"
"King Halo Enters the Record Books!"
And perhaps the most important headline of them all:
"King Halo Has Done What No One Else Has Done."
The Shuka Sho had been the final piece.
The race that completed the second half of her extraordinary achievement.
The Triple Tiara.
Three victories.
One season.
One extraordinary campaign.
And combined with what she had accomplished earlier in the year, King Halo had become the first Umamusume to achieve the unprecedented distinction that the racing world had begun calling the Double Slam.
It was an achievement that had seemed almost impossible when the year began.
Now, it was history.
Her name had been permanently written into the record books.
Yet, strangely enough, as the celebrations surrounding her achievement began to settle down, another headline started appearing alongside them.
One that had nothing to do with another victory.
One that had surprised even people who had followed King Halo for years.
"King Halo Calls It Quits With The Twinkle Series."
At first, many had assumed it was a rumor.
Then the reports became more frequent.
Then came confirmation.
King Halo was stepping away.
Not from racing entirely.
Not from driving.
Not from competition.
But from the Twinkle Series.
The announcement had sent shockwaves throughout Tracen Academy.
And beyond it.
For an Umamusume who had spent so much of her life pursuing the highest level of racing, walking away from the Twinkle Series immediately after reaching the summit was something few people understood.
She had just achieved the impossible.
She had just completed a historic season.
She had just become one of the most decorated racers of her generation.
And now...
She was leaving.
The decision had become one of the most talked-about subjects in the racing world.
Some wondered whether she had simply achieved everything she wanted.
Others wondered whether there was something more behind the decision.
But King Halo herself had been remarkably consistent.
She had made her choice.
And she had no intention of taking it back.
For the first time in years, her future was no longer being defined by the Twinkle Series.
There were no more mandatory training schedules.
No more racing calendars dictated by the academy.
No more preparation for the next graded race.
No more constant pressure to prove that she belonged among the greatest.
At least...
That was what everyone assumed.
Because King Halo had never been the type to simply stop moving.
And those who knew her best understood something important.
King Halo had not lost her ambition.
Far from it.
She had merely decided that the Twinkle Series was no longer where she wanted to pursue it.
The racing world had given her everything it could.
Now she wanted to find out what else the world had to offer.
And perhaps, more importantly...
What else she could become.
November had only just begun.
The Arima Kinen was still waiting.
The final race of the year was still approaching.
And somewhere beyond the bright lights of the racecourses, beyond the trophies and headlines, beyond the cheers of tens of thousands of spectators...
King Halo's next chapter was already beginning.
The night had settled over Tokyo.
The moon hung high above the city, casting a pale silver glow between the gaps of the skyscrapers.
Above it all, the sky was unusually clear.
Stars glittered across the darkness, faint but visible between the countless lights of the metropolis.
Tokyo was normally a city that never truly slept.
But tonight, even it seemed tired.
The streets that had been packed with people only hours earlier were nearly empty now.
Shops had closed.
Office buildings stood mostly dark.
The crowds around Fuchu had disappeared.
The usual streams of headlights and taillights had thinned until only the occasional vehicle remained.
The traffic lights continued changing on empty intersections.
Red.
Green.
Yellow.
Red again.
Lamp posts illuminated the asphalt beneath them, their light stretching across deserted roads.
For once, Tokyo's endless movement had slowed.
But far above those quiet streets, the Shuto Expressway was still alive.
Not with traffic.
Not tonight.
With something else.
An engine.
A deep, aggressive mechanical roar echoed through the C1 Inner Loop.
BRRRAAAAAAM—!
The sound bounced between the concrete barriers and the walls of the surrounding buildings before fading into the night.
Then it returned.
Louder.
Closer.
An orange Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 swept through the darkness.
Its headlights illuminated the road ahead as it flowed through the curves of the expressway.
The RB26DETT under its hood was working hard.
The engine's metallic howl climbed through the rev range before the driver shifted.
Clutch in.
Gear lever moved.
Clutch out.
The transmission engaged.
The engine note dropped for only a fraction of a second before climbing again.
The HKS exhaust system amplified every mechanical note.
The sound rolled through the sleeping city.
Jungle Pocket was driving.
And she was driving alone.
Her hands remained firmly planted on the steering wheel.
Her posture was forward.
Focused.
Her eyes never left the road.
The orange R34 moved smoothly through the C1.
There was no traffic to contend with.
No headlights ahead.
No cars beside her.
No brake lights in the distance.
Nothing.
Just an empty road stretching into the darkness.
Yet Jungle Pocket wasn't looking for traffic.
She wasn't even really looking at the road anymore.
Her eyes were fixed on something that wasn't there.
Something only she could see.
A car.
Midnight blue.
Low.
Wide.
Aggressive.
The silhouette of an S30 Fairlady Z.
A car that had become almost mythical among those who knew the underground side of Japan's automotive world.
Agnes Tachyon's car.
The Midnight Blue Devil.
Pokke's eyes narrowed.
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened.
There was nothing ahead.
Just asphalt.
Lane markings.
Concrete.
Guardrails.
And the occasional glow of Tokyo's buildings.
But in her mind...
The Devil was there.
A few hundred meters ahead.
Its taillights glowing faintly in the darkness.
Waiting.
Watching.
Inviting her to chase.
Pokke pressed the accelerator down.
The R34 responded instantly.
The RB26DETT roared.
The needle on the tachometer climbed.
The exhaust note became sharper.
More violent.
The orange GT-R surged forward.
But the imaginary Z remained ahead.
Always just ahead.
No matter how hard she pushed.
No matter how much speed she carried through the corners.
No matter how aggressively she attacked the imaginary racing line.
She couldn't catch it.
Pokke's jaw tightened.
"Come on..."
Her voice was barely audible inside the cabin.
She shifted again.
The R34 lunged forward.
The C1 curved beneath her.
Left.
Then right.
A short straight.
Another bend.
The city blurred around her.
But the Devil remained.
Midnight blue.
Untouchable.
Waiting.
It wasn't merely an imaginary car.
It was a memory.
A challenge.
A rival.
And, in some ways, a source of frustration that Jungle Pocket had carried for years.
Agnes Tachyon.
Her friend.
Her rival.
Her Devil.
Pokke had known Tachyon for a long time.
Long enough to understand her strange personality.
Long enough to know how brilliant she was.
Long enough to know that underneath the eccentric experiments, wild theories, manic laughter, and constant pursuit of scientific breakthroughs was an Umamusume with an extraordinary talent for racing.
Tachyon wasn't merely fast.
She was terrifyingly fast.
And Pokke had never been given the opportunity to show her what she could truly do against her.
Not when it mattered most.
Because every time Pokke had raced Tachyon...
She had finished second.
Every.
Single.
Time.
The thought burned.
Pokke's eyes hardened.
Two years ago, everything had changed.
Agnes Tachyon had entered the Satsuki Sho.
Her thirteenth race.
She had arrived at the racecourse undefeated.
Thirteen races.
Thirteen victories.
A perfect record.
And that record hadn't been built without interruption.
After her fourth race, Tachyon had taken a hiatus.
She had disappeared from competition for a period of time.
Many wondered whether the eccentric scientist would ever return.
Then she did.
And when she came back...
She didn't slow down.
She won.
Then won again.
And again.
And again.
Nine consecutive victories after her return.
By the time she reached the Satsuki Sho, the streak had become something almost absurd.
Thirteen starts.
Thirteen wins.
No losses.
No second places.
No third places.
Nothing.
Perfect.
And then came the fracture.
A serious fracture suffered during the Satsuki Sho.
Serious enough that continuing her career in the Twinkle Series was no longer possible.
The injury ended her racing career.
At least in the traditional sense.
Tachyon retired from the Twinkle Series and eventually moved into the Dream Trophy League.
Her competitive career had not ended entirely.
But the stage was different now.
And that was what bothered Pokke.
Because Tachyon had left the Twinkle Series undefeated.
Just like Maruzensky.
Two Umamusume.
Two perfect records.
Two legends who had walked away without ever experiencing defeat.
Pokke couldn't stand it.
Not because she hated Tachyon.
That was the problem.
She didn't.
She liked Tachyon.
She trusted her.
She considered her a genuine friend.
But somewhere beneath all of that friendship was something that had never gone away.
A competitive fire.
A desire to prove herself.
A desire to finally stand beside Tachyon rather than behind her.
Because every time they had raced together...
Tachyon had won.
And Pokke had followed behind.
Second place.
Every time.
No exceptions.
She could still remember the feeling.
Crossing the finish line.
Hearing the crowd.
Seeing Tachyon ahead.
Seeing the gap.
Feeling the realization that once again, she hadn't been enough.
Second.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Pokke hated that number.
Second.
She didn't want to be second to Agnes Tachyon.
She wanted to beat her.
Even once.
Just once.
She wanted to know what it felt like to cross the finish line ahead of her.
But Tachyon had retired.
She had escaped the Twinkle Series with her perfect record intact.
And then, as if that weren't enough...
Pokke had finally begun winning.
She had finally started building momentum.
Finally found herself stepping into the spotlight.
Finally started proving that she wasn't merely another Umamusume following behind someone else's legend.
And Tachyon wasn't there anymore.
Pokke's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
"Why did you have to quit?"
The question disappeared into the cabin.
There was no answer.
Only the sound of the RB26.
The imaginary Midnight Blue Z remained ahead.
Pokke stared at it.
Her breathing became heavier.
"Why?"
The Z accelerated.
Pokke followed.
The R34's engine screamed.
The orange GT-R shot through another section of the C1.
The tires gripped the asphalt.
The suspension compressed as she loaded the car through the corner.
Her hands moved quickly across the steering wheel.
A small correction.
Another.
Then straight.
Accelerator down.
The GT-R surged forward.
But the Midnight Blue Devil remained ahead.
Always.
Just.
Out.
Of.
Reach.
Pokke's expression darkened.
She knew exactly what she was chasing.
It wasn't simply a car.
It wasn't simply Tachyon.
It wasn't even simply a perfect racing record.
She was chasing the feeling she had never managed to overcome.
The feeling of being second.
Of being behind.
Of knowing that no matter how hard she pushed...
Agnes Tachyon was still ahead.
And that fact had remained lodged in Pokke's mind for years.
Even now.
Even after Tachyon had left the Twinkle Series.
Even after Pokke had started carving out her own path.
Even after the rivalry should have ended.
It hadn't.
Because Pokke hadn't finished.
Not in her own mind.
She wanted one final chance.
One opportunity.
One race.
One stretch of road where there was nothing between them.
No injuries.
No interruptions.
No retirement.
No excuses.
Just two cars.
Two drivers.
And the finish line.
Pokke stared into the darkness.
The imaginary Midnight Blue Z disappeared around the next bend.
Her eyes followed it.
The corner approached.
She downshifted.
Clutch in.
Fourth.
Clutch out.
The engine blipped.
BRRRAAAP!
She turned the wheel.
The R34 entered the corner.
The tires whispered against the asphalt.
For a moment, the orange GT-R felt almost weightless.
Then Pokke opened the steering and planted the throttle.
The RB26 screamed.
She exited the corner.
But the Z was gone.
Not because Pokke had caught it.
Because there had never been a car there.
Only an image inside her head.
Pokke remained silent.
Her eyes stayed on the empty road.
Her expression softened for only a moment.
Then hardened again.
"...Tachyon."
The name lingered inside the cabin.
She exhaled slowly.
"You really think you can just leave it like that?"
The R34 continued through the C1.
Tokyo remained asleep around her.
But Jungle Pocket wasn't.
Her rivalry wasn't asleep.
Her frustration wasn't asleep.
And the question that had been haunting her for two years still remained.
What would have happened...
If Agnes Tachyon had never been injured?
If she had stayed?
If they had been allowed to race each other again?
Pokke didn't know.
And perhaps that was exactly why she couldn't let it go.
Because there had never been an answer.
Only an unfinished race.
And tonight, beneath the cold November sky, Jungle Pocket was going to chase that answer through the sleeping streets of Tokyo.
Even if the only opponent waiting for her was a ghost.
The night slowly died away.
The darkness that had covered Tokyo gradually faded into shades of deep blue and violet.
The moon descended.
The stars disappeared one by one.
And eventually, the first light of morning began creeping over the horizon.
A new day had arrived.
Morning settled over Japan.
The cities began to wake.
Lights flickered on inside apartment buildings.
Convenience stores remained open as commuters began appearing on the streets.
Delivery trucks rolled through intersections.
Bicycles filled the roads.
And from restaurants, cafés, and dormitory kitchens came the unmistakable smell of breakfast being prepared.
The quiet of the night was gone.
The world was moving again.
At Tracen Academy's Ritto dormitory, the same transition was taking place.
Students were beginning to leave their rooms.
Some were heading toward training.
Others were making their way toward the cafeteria.
And some were simply trying to survive another morning.
Among them was King Halo.
The sharp click of her heels echoed against the paved path as she walked toward the dormitory car park.
She carried herself with her usual elegance.
One hand was tucked casually into the pocket of her pants.
The other held a set of car keys.
The key ring swung gently with every step.
Attached to it was the unmistakable key for her Gemballa Mirage GT.
A student walking in the opposite direction noticed her.
The student immediately raised a hand.
"King-san! Good morning!"
King turned her head.
A warm smile appeared on her face.
"Good morning!"
She raised her hand in return.
The two passed each other.
King continued toward the parking area.
She had nothing particularly pressing on her mind.
No race preparation.
No training session.
No appointment.
Her Twinkle Series career was over.
For the first time in a long while, she could simply wake up and decide what she wanted to do.
And this morning...
She wanted breakfast.
The cafeteria was still closed.
So she had decided to go into town.
Her Mirage GT was waiting.
King stepped into the car park and turned her attention toward the silver Gemballa.
The car sat quietly beneath the morning light.
For a moment, she simply looked at it.
Then—
Tap.
Something touched her shoulder.
King stopped.
Her ears twitched.
She slowly turned around.
Nobody.
Her eyes narrowed.
She looked left.
Nothing.
Right.
Nothing.
Behind her.
Still nothing.
King blinked.
"...What?"
She turned back toward the Mirage GT.
And nearly jumped.
Standing directly in front of her was Kitasan Black.
"King-san! Good morning!"
King stared at her for half a second.
Then she chuckled.
"Kita-chan."
She shook her head.
"You startled me."
Kitasan smiled brightly.
"Sorry!"
King sighed, though the smile remained.
"Good morning."
Kitasan's eyes dropped toward King's hand.
The car keys were dangling from the key ring.
Her eyes immediately returned to King's face.
"Heading somewhere?"
King nodded.
"Breakfast in town."
She glanced toward the dormitory building.
"The cafeteria is still closed, so I figured I'd go somewhere outside for breakfast today."
Kitasan's eyes widened.
"Oh!"
She pointed at herself.
"Do you want me to drive you there, by chance?"
King stared at her.
Then laughed.
"Kita-chan."
She shook her head.
"My racing season is over. It'll be quite a while before I start racing in the Dream Trophy League."
She then glanced around the parking lot.
"And besides..."
Her eyes returned to Kitasan.
"You don't even have a car yet, do you?"
King winked.
"I think I'm perfectly capable of driving my own car."
She raised a thumb.
"But you can ride along if you want."
Kitasan immediately waved both hands.
"N-No, King-san! Not like that!"
She turned around.
Then pointed toward a car parked a short distance away.
By pure coincidence, the car directly behind where Kitasan was pointing happened to be a McLaren 765LT.
King's eyes followed her finger.
She stared at the car.
Then looked at Kitasan.
Then back at the McLaren.
"...That 765LT is yours?"
Kitasan nodded.
"Yes, King-san!"
Her hand dropped to her side.
"I've been eyeing one ever since I got my license!"
King stared at her.
Then stared at the McLaren again.
Then back at Kitasan.
One eyebrow rose.
"Isn't that car a little..."
She paused.
"...much for you?"
Kitasan slapped the air in front of herself.
"Not at all, King-san!"
She clasped both hands together in front of her chest.
"Come on, King-san!"
"Just this once!"
King looked at her.
Kitasan's eyes practically sparkled.
King's expression softened.
She sighed.
"Alright, Kita-chan."
She raised one finger.
"Just this once."
Kitasan's entire expression lit up.
"Yes!"
She raised a fist and gave a small jump.
Then she immediately clasped both hands together and bowed.
"Thank you so much, King-san!"
King nodded.
"Of course, Kita-chan."
Kitasan turned around.
The two walked across the parking area toward the McLaren.
The car immediately stood out.
Its MSO Volcano Red paintwork shimmered beneath the morning sun, reflecting the surrounding dormitory buildings and the trees around the parking lot.
The McLaren's low nose sat close to the ground.
Its bodywork flowed backward into the distinctive long-tail rear design.
Dark-gray Vossen LC2 wheels filled the arches, giving the 765LT an even more aggressive stance.
It looked less like an ordinary road car and more like a machine that had escaped from a racetrack.
King stopped several steps away.
She folded her arms.
Her eyes traveled slowly from the front splitter to the roofline.
Then along the doors.
Then toward the rear.
"I must admit..."
She walked around the front corner.
"...it does look impressive."
She continued around the side.
"And that rear really does emphasize the Long Tail."
She finally stopped beside Kitasan.
King looked at the McLaren.
Then at Kitasan.
A young driver.
Someone who had only obtained her driver's license earlier that year.
And yet she was standing beside a 755-horsepower, twin-turbocharged V8 supercar.
King blinked.
"Still..."
She crossed her arms.
"I'm surprised you managed to get a car like this."
Kitasan smiled sheepishly.
King raised a hand.
"And no disrespect, Kita-chan."
Her hand returned to her crossed arms.
"The car looks fantastic."
"But..."
Her expression became more serious.
"I'm still a little skeptical about your ability to handle something with this much power."
Kitasan didn't argue.
Instead, she nodded.
"I understand your concerns, King-san."
She leaned her back lightly against the side of the McLaren.
"Someone like me..."
She gestured toward herself.
"Young, relatively inexperienced, and fresh out of driver's education..."
She then pointed toward the 765LT.
"...now driving a seven-hundred-plus-horsepower supercar."
King nodded.
"Exactly."
"But..."
Kitasan raised one finger.
"After my regular driving lessons, I took advanced special driving lessons specifically for high-performance cars like this."
King's eyes widened slightly.
She took a step closer.
"You actually did?"
Kitasan nodded confidently.
"I did."
A small smile appeared.
"I received my certificate of completion three weeks ago."
King's expression changed.
She looked back toward the McLaren.
Then toward Kitasan.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Finally, she nodded.
"I'm impressed."
She paused.
Then gave Kitasan a small smile.
"And I'm sorry for doubting you."
Kitasan immediately waved her hand.
"N-No sweat, King-san!"
She bowed politely.
"I understand your concerns."
She straightened.
"Especially considering my age and the fact that I'm still relatively new to driving."
Then she smiled.
"And thank you for trusting me."
King bowed slightly.
"Of course, Kita-chan."
She looked toward the McLaren.
"So..."
King gestured toward the car.
"Shall we head for breakfast?"
Kitasan's hands closed into fists.
She brought them up beside her chest.
"Of course!"
She hurried toward the driver side.
King followed.
Kitasan pulled her key fob from her pocket.
She pressed the unlock button.
The McLaren responded immediately.
The doors unlocked with a series of mechanical clicks.
The hazard lights flashed once.
Kitasan stepped toward the driver's side.
She reached into the door opening and pressed the interior door-release button.
The McLaren's dihedral door released from its latch.
With a smooth mechanical motion, it swung upward.
Kitasan held it for a moment before stepping aside.
King approached the passenger side.
She looked at the door.
Unlike a conventional door, the 765LT's passenger door also hinged upward.
King reached behind it.
Kitasan called over from the driver's side.
"There's a button behind it!"
King leaned closer.
Her fingers found the release.
"Ah."
She pressed it.
The latch released.
King pulled the door outward slightly before allowing it to swing upward.
She looked into the cabin.
The interior was unmistakably McLaren.
Low seating.
Carbon-fiber trim.
A compact steering wheel.
Controls arranged around the driver.
And two deeply sculpted bucket seats.
King carefully lowered herself into the passenger seat.
She settled back.
The seat hugged her body firmly.
She adjusted herself until she was comfortable.
Kitasan climbed into the driver's side.
The two doors came down almost simultaneously.
Thump.
Thump.
The cabin suddenly became quieter.
Outside noise was muffled.
Inside, the two of them were surrounded by leather, carbon fiber, and the subdued mechanical sounds of the car.
King reached for her seat belt.
Kitasan did the same.
Both belts clicked into place.
Kitasan placed her right foot firmly on the brake pedal.
Her hand moved toward the center console.
She pressed the engine start button.
The McLaren's displays illuminated.
The instrument cluster came alive.
Various warning lights briefly appeared before disappearing as the systems completed their checks.
A soft electric whir came from somewhere behind them.
The fuel pump primed.
Kitasan kept her foot firmly on the brake.
Then she pressed the button again.
The starter motor engaged.
For a moment, there was only the rapid mechanical cranking of the engine.
Then—
VRAAAM!
The 4.0-liter twin-turbocharged M840T V8 fired into life.
The engine settled into a deep, controlled idle.
The exhaust note was surprisingly restrained.
King raised an eyebrow.
"Fairly quiet."
Kitasan nodded.
She pointed toward the drive-mode controls.
"It's currently in Comfort."
She tapped the controls.
"And the exhaust has a valve flap that controls the noise level."
She rotated her hand as though operating a switch.
"If I twist it over toward Track mode..."
Her hand moved downward.
"...the exhaust valves open fully."
She paused.
"And it gets considerably louder."
King nodded.
Kitasan slowly lowered her hand.
"But I don't want to get yelled at by Air Groove."
King immediately nodded.
"Wise choice."
She chuckled.
"The last thing you want is another 'Nattie' incident."
Kitasan's eyes widened.
"Nature-sensei?"
She tilted her head.
"What happened with her, King-san?"
The corner of King's mouth lifted.
She lowered her head slightly.
"Let's simply say..."
She paused.
"...Nattie's exhaust was loud enough to be heard across the campus grounds."
Kitasan blinked.
Her eyes widened.
She leaned toward King in disbelief.
Her seat belt stopped her halfway.
"Nature-sensei's car is that loud?!"
King simply nodded.
"Yes."
Kitasan stared at her.
King remained completely serious.
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then Kitasan slowly leaned back into her seat.
"...Wow."
King gave a small smile.
"Exactly."
Kitasan adjusted her seating position.
Her hands settled onto the steering wheel.
She checked the mirrors.
Then looked toward the instrument cluster.
Everything was ready.
Her right hand moved down toward the electronic parking brake.
She pressed the switch.
The parking brake disengaged.
Then her hand moved to the gear selector.
She pressed the selector button and selected Drive.
The transmission engaged.
Kitasan carefully checked the surroundings.
Left.
Right.
Behind.
Clear.
She released the brake pedal gradually.
The McLaren began to creep forward.
Kitasan applied a small amount of accelerator.
The 765LT rolled smoothly across the parking area.
King watched her.
There was no sudden throttle input.
No unnecessary steering.
No jerky movement.
Kitasan guided the McLaren toward the exit at a controlled pace.
King's eyes briefly moved toward the speedometer.
Then back toward Kitasan.
She said nothing.
But there was a faint approving smile on her face.
Kitasan noticed.
She smiled.
They reached the exit.
Kitasan checked once more.
Then turned onto the road.
The Volcano Red McLaren 765LT left the dormitory grounds.
The tires rolled over the morning pavement.
The sound of the engine remained subdued.
For now.
Behind them, the dormitory gradually disappeared from view.
Ahead was Fuchu.
The streets were already beginning to fill with morning traffic.
Commuters.
Delivery vehicles.
Buses.
Cyclists.
Students.
The ordinary rhythm of another Japanese morning.
Kitasan kept both hands on the wheel.
Her eyes moved between the road ahead and her mirrors.
King sat comfortably beside her.
For the first time in a while, neither of them had to think about a race.
No training schedule.
No starting gate.
No stopwatch.
No finish line.
Just breakfast.
And perhaps, for King Halo, that was exactly what she needed.
A normal morning.
A simple drive.
A little time away from the racing world.
Even if she was riding shotgun in a 755-horsepower McLaren driven by one of Tracen's newest licensed drivers.
But not for long.
The morning drive through Fuchu passed by quickly.
The streets were already becoming busier as the city fully woke up. Buses moved along their routes, bicycles passed through intersections, and commuters filled the sidewalks.
Kitasan kept the 765LT in Comfort mode, her driving smooth and deliberate.
King had been watching her closely for most of the journey.
So far, she had nothing to complain about.
Kitasan didn't accelerate unnecessarily.
She maintained a safe following distance.
She checked her mirrors regularly.
And whenever they approached an intersection, she eased off the accelerator well in advance.
For someone who had only recently received her license, she was considerably more composed than King had initially expected.
Eventually, Kitasan turned off the main road.
Another few minutes passed.
Then the breakfast diner came into view.
It was only about ten minutes away from Tracen Academy, making it a convenient stop for students and staff who wanted something more substantial than the academy cafeteria.
The restaurant itself was modest.
Nothing extravagant.
A single-story building with large windows, a simple sign above the entrance, and a parking lot beside it.
The kind of place where people could come in early, sit down, eat a hot breakfast, and leave without making a fuss.
Kitasan turned into the parking lot.
The 765LT rolled slowly across the asphalt.
Then King noticed something.
She blinked.
There were already several familiar cars parked outside.
A bright orange 1969 Dodge Charger R/T.
A yellow 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T.
A Mazda MX-5.
And a Nissan Skyline R34 GT-R.
King's eyes immediately went toward the Charger.
Then the MX-5.
Then the R34.
"Huh..."
She leaned slightly toward the window.
"Urara is here too."
Kitasan followed her gaze.
"Seems like they had the same idea about breakfast."
King smiled.
She pointed toward the unmistakable orange Charger.
"If I had to guess..."
She paused.
"...that Charger would have to belong to Taiki Shuttle."
Kitasan laughed.
"That has to be Taiki-san's Charger!"
She shook her head.
"Of course she had to bring a piece of America here to Japan!"
King chuckled.
"That does sound like Taiki."
Kitasan continued deeper into the parking lot.
She spotted an empty space beside the Mazda MX-5.
"There's one."
She slowed the McLaren down.
The steering wheel turned.
The 765LT eased past the MX-5 before Kitasan began reversing.
She checked the mirrors.
Then the rear camera.
A small adjustment.
Another.
The rear wheels crossed the parking-space line.
Kitasan straightened the steering.
The Volcano Red McLaren settled neatly into the space.
She shifted into Park.
The engine continued idling for another few seconds.
Then Kitasan pressed the engine button.
The M840T V8 fell silent.
The last few mechanical sounds from the engine bay faded away.
Silence returned.
Kitasan unfastened her seat belt.
King did the same.
The two reached for their respective door releases.
The dihedral doors rose upward.
Both stepped out.
King straightened her clothes before looking around the parking lot.
She squinted slightly at the morning sunlight.
Then her attention moved toward the yellow Challenger.
"Hm?"
She pointed.
"Who's Challenger is that?"
Kitasan stepped beside her.
She looked at the Charger.
Then the Challenger.
Then back at the Charger.
Her brow furrowed.
"Uh..."
She scratched the back of her head.
"Pearl-san's?"
King immediately shook her head.
"No."
She crossed her arms.
"Seeking the Pearl has something else."
She looked toward the Challenger again.
"Definitely not a classic American muscle car."
Kitasan nodded slowly.
"Yeah..."
King's eyes then moved toward the R34 GT-R.
She stared at it.
Kitasan's expression changed.
"And I didn't know Teio restored her Skyline like nothing happened."
King shook her head.
"Teio's Skyline was a total loss."
Her voice became more serious.
"There was no chance in hell they'd repair that car."
Kitasan looked at King.
Then back at the R34.
King folded her arms.
"Teio's R34 had a modified stock appearance."
She gestured toward the parked GT-R.
"This one is different."
She studied it.
"It's built like a track car."
Kitasan tilted her head.
King continued.
"Look at the stance."
"The wheels."
"The suspension setup."
"And the way it's sitting."
She narrowed her eyes.
"That car was built to take corners."
Kitasan rested her chin against the top of her hand.
"Hm..."
She studied the R34 more closely.
"Now that you mention it..."
Before she could continue—
Footsteps approached from behind them.
Then came a familiar voice.
"Ah."
A pause.
"I see you two admiring my car, eh?"
Kitasan immediately turned around.
King did as well.
Standing behind them was Jungle Pocket.
Pokke had one hand resting on her hip.
A smirk stretched across her face.
King closed her eyes.
She already knew exactly who it was.
"Figures..."
She muttered under her breath.
Kitasan blinked.
Then jumped slightly.
"Pokke-san?!"
Jungle Pocket laughed.
"Well?"
She gestured toward her R34.
"What do you think?"
Kitasan turned toward the GT-R again.
She examined it for a moment.
Then smiled.
"A race car for the roads."
Pokke's grin widened.
"Exactly."
Kitasan rubbed one eye and looked again.
"It looks great!"
She pointed toward the car.
"And very fast, too."
Pokke nodded appreciatively.
"I appreciate it, Kita."
She walked toward the R34 and stopped beside the front fender.
"I built the car to look good on the streets..."
Her hand swept along the roofline.
"...while still being fast on a course."
She then tapped the roof lightly.
"I wasn't interested in making something that was only good in a straight line."
Her expression became more serious.
"Handling was the priority."
She gestured toward the suspension and wheels.
"Something that could turn."
"Something that could stay planted."
"Something I could trust when the road starts getting complicated."
King glanced toward the R34.
She gave a small nod.
"That much is obvious."
Pokke looked at her.
King met her eyes.
There was a brief silence.
Neither needed to explain what the other was thinking.
King knew about Pokke's late-night drives.
Pokke knew King understood the feeling of chasing something that couldn't simply be left behind.
But before the moment could become too serious, Pokke shook her head.
She looked toward the restaurant.
Then gestured toward it with one hand.
"Well?"
She started walking.
"Come on."
Kitasan blinked.
"Eh?"
Pokke looked over her shoulder.
"Breakfast won't wait forever, ya know."
Kitasan immediately hurried after her.
"R-Right!"
King sighed softly.
She looked at the R34 one last time.
Then toward the restaurant.
"What a morning already..."
She smiled faintly and followed.
The three walked toward the entrance.
As they approached, the smell of freshly prepared food became stronger.
Coffee.
Toast.
Grilled bacon.
Eggs.
Pancakes.
The aroma drifted through the open entrance every time someone entered or exited.
Kitasan's ears perked up.
"Oh..."
Pokke laughed.
"Now that's more like it."
King smiled.
"I suddenly understand why this place is popular."
They stepped through the entrance.
A small bell mounted above the door chimed.
Ding.
The interior was warm and welcoming.
Wooden tables occupied most of the dining area.
The walls were decorated with simple signs and photographs.
Morning sunlight came through the windows.
And despite the relatively early hour, several tables were already occupied.
Then a familiar voice came from deeper inside.
"Hey!"
Kitasan looked over.
A hand shot into the air.
"King-san! Kitasan!"
Taiki Shuttle waved enthusiastically from one of the tables.
She was seated beside Haru Urara.
Narita Brian sat across from them, quietly eating while occasionally glancing toward the others.
King smiled.
"Good morning, Taiki."
Taiki grinned.
"Good morning!"
Urara turned around.
Her face immediately brightened.
"King-chan!"
She raised both hands.
"Good morning!"
Kitasan smiled.
"Good morning, Urara!"
Urara looked past them.
Then her eyes widened.
"Pokke!"
Jungle Pocket raised a hand.
"Morning."
Brian gave them a brief nod.
"Morning."
King nodded toward her.
"Brian."
Brian simply continued eating.
Taiki leaned forward.
"So you guys came here for breakfast too?"
King nodded.
"The cafeteria wasn't open yet."
She gestured toward Kitasan.
"And Kita-chan offered to drive me."
Taiki's eyes immediately widened.
"You came in that?"
She pointed toward the parking lot.
"The McLaren?"
Kitasan laughed.
"Yep!"
Taiki grinned.
"Nice!"
Urara's eyes sparkled.
"I saw it when we arrived!"
She pointed toward the windows.
"It's really pretty!"
Kitasan's cheeks reddened slightly.
"Thanks!"
Brian glanced toward the window.
"The 765LT?"
Kitasan nodded.
"Yeah."
Brian looked at her.
Then gave a short nod.
"Good choice."
Kitasan's eyes widened.
"Really?"
Brian nodded again.
"It's fast."
That was all she said.
Kitasan looked delighted anyway.
King couldn't help but chuckle.
"Brian isn't exactly known for lengthy reviews."
Pokke pulled out a chair.
"Yeah."
She sat down.
"If Brian says it's fast, that's practically a five-minute speech."
Brian gave Pokke a flat look.
Pokke grinned.
Taiki laughed.
Urara giggled.
Even King smiled.
The atmosphere was immediately relaxed.
The five of them settled around the table.
A server approached with menus.
"Good morning. Are you ready to order?"
King picked up her menu.
Kitasan did the same.
Pokke glanced through hers.
Taiki barely needed to look.
"I'll have the American breakfast!"
The server nodded.
"Eggs, bacon, toast?"
"And pancakes!"
Taiki raised a finger.
"Don't forget the pancakes!"
The server smiled.
"Of course."
Urara looked through the menu carefully.
"Hmm..."
She eventually pointed.
"I'll have the pancakes too!"
She paused.
"And strawberry jam!"
The server wrote it down.
"Anything else?"
Urara thought.
"Orange juice!"
"Certainly."
Brian closed her menu.
"I'll have the grilled bacon and eggs."
"How would you like your eggs?"
"Sunny-side up."
The server nodded.
"And coffee."
Pokke looked at the menu.
"I'll take the breakfast set."
She pointed.
"Scrambled eggs, sausage, toast."
She paused.
"And black coffee."
The server wrote everything down.
Then looked toward King.
King calmly scanned the menu.
"Hmm..."
She considered her options.
Eventually, she closed it.
"I'll have the French toast."
Kitasan looked at her.
King continued.
"With fresh fruit."
She glanced toward the drinks.
"And tea."
The server nodded.
"And for you?"
Kitasan looked at the menu.
Her eyes moved across the selections.
Then she smiled.
"I'll have the bacon and eggs with toast."
She thought for a moment.
"And a glass of milk, please."
"Certainly."
The server collected the menus.
"I'll have those out shortly."
"Thank you," King replied.
The server walked away.
The five settled into conversation.
For the first time that morning, there was no racing schedule hanging over them.
No training.
No race strategy.
No championship points.
No pressure.
Just friends sitting around a breakfast table.
Outside, the McLaren, the R34, the MX-5, the Charger, and the Challenger remained parked beneath the morning sun.
Inside, the smell of coffee and freshly cooked food filled the restaurant.
Taiki leaned back in her chair.
"So..."
She looked toward King.
"I heard something interesting."
King raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Taiki grinned.
"You're really done with the Twinkle Series?"
The table became slightly quieter.
King's expression remained calm.
She leaned back.
"Yes."
Urara stopped swinging her legs.
Kitasan glanced toward King.
Pokke remained silent.
Brian looked up from her coffee.
King simply smiled.
"For now, at least..."
She looked toward the window.
"...I think I've had enough of it."
Outside, sunlight reflected off the Volcano Red McLaren.
King's reflection appeared faintly in the glass.
Her racing career in the Twinkle Series was over.
But this morning...
She wasn't thinking about what came next.
She was simply enjoying breakfast with her friends.
And for the first time in a very long time, that felt like enough.
The conversation around the table gradually settled into a comfortable silence.
For the first time in a very long time, none of them were talking about races.
There were no race schedules.
No training plans.
No pressure.
No expectations.
Just breakfast.
And for King Halo, who had spent so much of her life measuring herself against finish lines, records, and expectations, that simple feeling was surprisingly unfamiliar.
And for the first time in a very long time, that felt like enough.
Minutes passed.
Plates were gradually emptied.
The last pieces of toast disappeared. Coffee cups were drained. Pancake plates were left with little more than traces of syrup and crumbs.
Eventually, the group settled back into the booth.
Kitasan Black casually glanced outside through the restaurant window.
Her eyes landed on the yellow 1970 Dodge Challenger R/T parked across the lot.
She tilted her head.
"I still can't believe you actually got a second car, Brian-san."
Narita Brian leaned back against the booth seat.
She folded her arms.
"It's not that I hate the Lancia."
She paused.
"I've just gotten slightly annoyed with its stiff ride."
Pokke immediately chuckled.
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
Brian's Lancia 037 was hardly what anyone would describe as comfortable.
The Group B machine was practically a competition car that happened to have enough road equipment to legally exist outside a rally stage.
Its suspension was firm.
Its steering was direct.
Its cabin was cramped.
Its ride quality was somewhere between "unforgiving" and "why does my spine hurt?"
And while Brian loved the machine, even she had apparently reached the point where she wanted something she could drive without feeling every imperfection in the pavement.
Pokke looked between Brian and Taiki.
"So..."
She slowly pointed at Taiki.
Then at Brian.
"Who's at fault for making you get a muscle car, Brian?"
Brian didn't even hesitate.
She subtly gestured toward Taiki.
Taiki Shuttle immediately laughed.
"Come on!"
She threw both hands up.
"It's not like American muscle cars are bad!"
She grinned.
"Practically, they're museum pieces!"
Urara nodded enthusiastically.
"Yep!"
She leaned forward across the table.
"They're two badass cars!"
Brian gave a small smirk.
"May I remind you again that your car looks like something from that 1970s television series where they kept jumping Chargers?"
Taiki's smile froze.
One corner of her mouth twitched.
She slowly closed her eyes.
"Oh, really?"
Brian simply stared at her.
Taiki opened her eyes.
"And your car is quite literally a video game character's car that so happens to work for the police as a detective in San Francisco!"
There was a brief silence.
Pokke burst out laughing.
Taiki immediately turned toward her.
"Don't laugh, Pokke!"
Pokke tried to cover her mouth.
It didn't work.
Taiki pointed accusingly at her.
"Your car looks exactly like a certain Need for Speed character's car at the beginning of the game!"
Pokke shrugged.
"It's a coincidence!"
Taiki nodded.
"And so is mine."
She gestured toward the window.
"Mine just so happens to coincidentally have that paint."
She raised one finger.
"From the factory!"
Another finger.
"It's an original paint job."
Then she used both hands to outline the front of her Charger.
"And it just so happens to coincidentally be equipped with a bull bar!"
She paused.
"For farm work."
Brian slowly raised one hand.
"Mine so happens to be painted an orange-ish yellow with black stripes and markings."
She counted them off with her fingers.
"Shaker hood."
"Rear spoiler."
"Classic muscle body."
"Five-speed manual."
She lowered her hand.
"And apparently, that is also a coincidence."
Pokke was still laughing.
"This is getting ridiculous."
Taiki pointed at Brian.
"You're the one who started it!"
Brian calmly pointed back.
"You started it when you bought the Charger."
Taiki gasped.
"That is completely different!"
Kitasan covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
King, meanwhile, simply took another sip of her coffee.
She looked through the window.
Then toward the three cars sitting outside.
The orange Charger.
The yellow Challenger.
The orange R34 GT-R.
Three very different machines.
Three very different personalities.
And yet, somehow, each of them carried a strange connection to something that had existed in fiction before they ever became real machines in their world.
King lowered her coffee cup.
"So happens you all changed bits and pieces of the cars."
Taiki, Brian, and Pokke all nodded.
"True that," Taiki said.
"Fair point," Brian added.
"Right," Pokke agreed.
King nodded.
"Wheels, for example."
Taiki glanced outside.
"Changed mine."
Brian nodded.
"Same."
Pokke leaned back.
"Mine too."
King smiled faintly.
"Based on a television show, a game, or anything else..."
She looked at the three of them.
"It will be, at the end of the day, a coincidence."
Her voice softened.
"Just so happens that those shows and games made them cult legends."
She looked outside again.
"So enjoy your rides."
King lifted her coffee slightly.
"Associated with a show or game, or not."
Taiki nodded.
Brian gave a single thumbs-up.
Pokke raised both thumbs.
"Got it, King!"
The conversation settled for a moment.
Then Taiki suddenly turned toward Urara.
"Urara-chan."
Urara looked up.
"Hm?"
Taiki smiled.
"How's the turbocharger?"
King's eyes widened slightly.
She slowly turned toward Urara.
"You actually went through with forced induction, Urara-chan?"
Urara nodded.
"Yep!"
She pointed outside toward her little Mazda MX-5.
"Supercharging at the end of the day was more expensive."
She shrugged.
"So I went for the cheaper bolt-on turbo kit instead."
King blinked.
"You installed it yourself?"
Urara shook her head.
"Nope! I had a shop handle the installation and tuning."
Brian gave a small nod.
"Good."
Urara smiled.
"I wanted to make sure everything was done properly."
She then looked at King.
"Although..."
She tapped her chin.
"The turbo that was available was fairly big."
Taiki's eyebrows rose.
"How big?"
Urara gave an innocent smile.
"Big enough."
Pokke laughed.
"That's not an answer."
Urara laughed too.
King folded her arms.
"How much power now, Urara-chan?"
Urara glanced upward.
She tapped her chin.
"Hmm..."
She thought about it for several seconds.
Then looked back at King.
"Three hundred-something horsepower."
The table went silent.
Taiki's jaw dropped.
Brian stopped moving.
Pokke slowly turned toward Urara.
King blinked.
"Three hundred..."
She paused.
"...something?"
Urara nodded.
"Yep!"
Taiki shook her head.
"I never knew you had that need for power, Urara-chan!"
Urara laughed.
"Me neither!"
She pointed toward the MX-5.
"It just sort of happened!"
She then shrugged.
"The turbo that was in stock was fairly big."
Brian raised an eyebrow.
"How big is 'fairly big'?"
Urara smiled awkwardly.
"Big enough."
Pokke slapped a hand against the table.
"You're still not answering the question!"
Everyone laughed.
King shook her head with an amused smile.
"And how is the turbo lag?"
Urara shrugged.
"It's there."
She tilted her hand from side to side.
"But it's manageable!"
King nodded thoughtfully.
"Throttle response must be quite different from before."
"Yeah!"
Urara leaned forward.
"It takes a little more time to build boost, but once it comes in..."
She made a small gesture with both hands.
"Whoosh!"
Taiki grinned.
"That's the spirit!"
Urara then gently bumped King on the shoulder.
"You should drive my Miata one day, King!"
King looked at her.
"Your Miata?"
Urara nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah!"
She clasped both hands together in front of her like a prayer.
"Please, King-san?"
King stared at her for a moment.
Then smiled.
"Of course, Urara-chan."
She gently patted Urara's head.
"We can plan something soon."
Urara's ears perked up.
"Yes!"
She rocked one fist excitedly.
"King-san!"
She bowed slightly.
"Thank y—"
Bonk.
Urara's forehead lightly collided with the glass cup sitting on the table.
The cup wobbled.
Everyone froze.
It didn't fall.
Urara slowly raised her head.
"Ow..."
She rubbed the top of her forehead.
King immediately chuckled.
"Careful next time, Urara."
Urara looked embarrassed.
"Sorry, King-san..."
King smiled and pulled Urara into a gentle hug.
"It's fine."
Taiki laughed.
"Still the same Urara!"
Urara puffed her cheeks.
"Hey!"
Pokke laughed.
Brian simply shook her head.
The mood remained light.
No one was in a hurry.
Eventually, King glanced toward the clock.
"We should probably head back to campus."
Kitasan nodded.
"Yeah."
Taiki slid out of the booth.
"Come on, everyone."
Brian stood next.
Urara followed.
Pokke pushed herself away from the table.
The group began gathering their things.
King reached for her handbag.
Kitasan checked that she had her phone and keys.
Taiki stretched her arms.
Brian simply stood there with her hands in her pockets.
Urara was the last to move.
But as the others began walking toward the restaurant entrance, Pokke suddenly stopped.
She remained seated.
The others didn't notice at first.
Kitasan looked back.
"Pokke-san?"
Pokke didn't answer.
Her eyes were fixed on the window.
Outside sat her orange R34 GT-R.
The morning sunlight reflected softly across its bodywork.
The large rear wing cast a thin shadow over the trunk.
The dark wheels sat firmly beneath the fenders.
The car looked almost ordinary from a distance.
Just another R34.
But Pokke knew exactly what was underneath it.
The RB26DETT.
The HKS exhaust.
The suspension.
The brakes.
The carefully balanced setup.
A car built not merely to go fast in a straight line, but to change direction.
To attack corners.
To stay planted.
To carry speed.
A machine built around the idea that speed wasn't only about horsepower.
Pokke slowly stood.
Her eyes remained on it.
Tachyon.
The name alone was enough to make something inside her tighten.
Agnes Tachyon.
Her friend.
Her rival.
The Devil Z.
The Midnight Blue S30Z.
That impossible machine.
That impossible opponent.
Every time they had met on a race course...
Second place.
Every single time.
Pokke had chased her.
She had pushed herself.
She had tried different approaches.
She had tried different lines.
She had tried to close the gap.
But Tachyon always found something more.
And then, just as Pokke had begun to truly believe she could eventually catch her...
Tachyon's career ended.
The injury.
The Satsuki Sho.
The fracture.
The retirement from the Twinkle Series.
Thirteen races.
Thirteen starts.
Undefeated.
Nine consecutive victories after her hiatus.
And then...
Gone.
Not beaten.
Not surpassed.
Not finally caught.
Just gone.
Pokke clenched her fist.
For years, that had been the part that bothered her most.
She didn't want Tachyon to have lost.
She wanted to beat her.
Fair and square.
On the track.
With both of them pushing their limits.
She wanted to see what happened when the gap finally disappeared.
She wanted to know who would cross the finish line first.
But that race never came.
Not on the track.
Pokke's eyes narrowed.
She looked at her R34 again.
"If I wasn't able to race Tachyon on the race courses back then..."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Her expression hardened.
"Then now is my chance to challenge her in a different way."
Kitasan, standing near the entrance, noticed.
"Pokke-san?"
Pokke finally turned toward her.
She smiled faintly.
"Nothing."
She stood fully.
Then looked back outside one last time.
"A challenge in the Shuto."
Her eyes sharpened.
"And on the mountain passes."
The thought settled into her mind.
The Shuto.
The C1.
The Wangan.
The mountain roads.
Different roads.
Different rules.
Different kind of racing.
There would be no starting gate.
No packed grandstand.
No announcer calling their names.
No trophy waiting at the end.
Only asphalt.
Traffic.
Corners.
Elevation changes.
Engine noise.
And the question that had remained unanswered for years.
Could she finally catch Tachyon?
Pokke turned away from the window.
But the thought followed her.
She walked toward the entrance.
The bell above the restaurant door rang as the group stepped outside.
The morning air greeted them.
Kitasan headed toward the McLaren.
Taiki walked toward the Charger.
Brian headed toward the Challenger.
Urara skipped toward her Miata.
King followed behind them.
Pokke remained still for a moment.
Her orange R34 sat only a few meters away.
She approached it.
Ran a hand briefly along the roof.
Then smiled.
"Guess we've got somewhere to go."
She opened the driver's door.
The familiar smell of the cabin greeted her.
She slipped inside.
The door shut with a solid thud.
Her hands settled onto the steering wheel.
She looked across the parking lot.
King was already standing beside the McLaren.
Kitasan was unlocking it.
Urara was waving toward her.
Taiki gave her a thumbs-up.
Brian simply nodded.
Pokke raised a hand in response.
Then she turned the key.
The RB26DETT came alive.
The engine fired with a deep mechanical growl before settling into its idle.
The HKS exhaust gave a sharp, metallic note that immediately separated it from the other cars in the parking lot.
Pokke smiled.
She pressed the clutch pedal down.
Her right hand wrapped around the gear lever.
First gear.
A slight pause.
Then she eased the clutch upward while giving the engine just enough throttle.
The R34 rolled forward.
As she left the parking space, Pokke glanced toward the McLaren, then toward the road leading away from the diner.
The city was waking up around them.
For everyone else, it was just another November morning.
For Pokke...
Something had changed.
The unfinished rivalry that had followed her for years no longer felt like a memory.
It felt like a destination.
She didn't know when she would meet Tachyon again.
She didn't know whether Tachyon would even accept the challenge.
She didn't know what kind of road would become their battlefield.
But for the first time since that fateful Satsuki Sho...
Pokke had something to chase again.
Not a trophy.
Not a championship.
Not a finish line.
Her eyes narrowed as the R34 joined the morning traffic.
"Just wait, Tachyon."
The Skyline disappeared down the road.
"And this time..."
A faint grin appeared across her face.
"...I'm not settling for second."
The orange R34 continued toward the city.
Behind it, the McLaren 765LT followed.
Then the Charger.
The Challenger.
The Miata.
One by one, the cars merged into the morning streets of Fuchu.
The diner became smaller in the mirrors.
The conversation faded.
But the road ahead remained.
And somewhere beyond the city...
Beyond the Shuto Expressway...
Beyond the familiar circuits and stadiums...
Beyond everything Pokke had known as racing...
A new chapter was waiting.
The world beyond the track had only just begun.