The quarry lot hummed with electricity.Engines revved against the chill of the night air, headlights cutting crooked beams through the gathering mist.It wasn't a race yet — but the hunger for one was thick enough to taste.
Riku stood awkwardly by the Prelude, arms crossed, feeling every glance graze across him like invisible needles.
Tatsuya bounced on his heels like a child waiting for candy."You see that guy over there?" he whispered, jabbing his chin toward a group of older racers near the far side of the lot. "That's Shohei. Drives a Silvia K. King of Kurokawa Bend. No one's beat him in months."
Riku barely nodded.
He didn't know why he was here.He didn't belong among these loud engines and louder personalities.He wasn't a racer.
The Prelude sat quietly behind him — humble, clean, almost apologetic amidst the neon monsters lined up like warriors ready for battle.
"Hey," a sharp voice barked.
Riku turned.
A tall, broad-shouldered kid swaggered over, a cocky grin plastered across his face. His jacket hung off one shoulder, all messy cool and cheap cologne.Behind him trailed a couple of hanger-ons, all sneering and nudging each other.
"You new?" the tall kid asked, sizing up Riku like a bad piece of produce.
Riku said nothing.
The kid jerked a thumb toward the Prelude. "That yours?"
Riku nodded.
The kid snorted. "What is that, some old lady's car? You lost, grandpa?"
His crew laughed, the sound sharp and mean against the night air.
Tatsuya bristled, stepping forward — but Riku held up a hand.No anger.No embarrassment.Just... nothing.
The kid frowned, irritated by the lack of reaction.He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only Riku could hear.
"You drive that thing around here, you better be ready to put up. Otherwise, you're just clogging up the lot."
He straightened, loud again. "Tell you what — one warm-up run. No stakes. Just a little friendly lesson."
More laughter.More eyes turning toward them, sensing blood.
Tatsuya opened his mouth — probably to yell something dumb — but Riku spoke first, voice flat and calm.
"Where?"
The tall kid blinked.
"Top of Kurokawa," he said after a beat. "Down to the old bridge. Standard run."
Riku nodded once, turning back toward the Prelude without another word.
The kid watched him go, clearly thrown off by the complete lack of fear or posturing.
Tatsuya hustled after Riku, whispering urgently.
"Bro, you sure? These guys don't mess around. They'll do anything to win. Dirty blocking, brake-checks, you name it."
Riku shrugged, sliding into the driver's seat.
"It's just a drive."
Tatsuya stared at him like he was insane.
And maybe he was.
But when Riku closed the door and turned the key, the Prelude rumbled awake — not loudly, not aggressively — but with the quiet, focused pulse of something alive beneath the surface.
Something waiting.
Something patient.
They lined up at the edge of the lot.Two cars.Two drivers.
The Silvia beside him growled, exhaust burbling like a restless animal.The tall kid grinned across at Riku, revving the engine hard, trying to intimidate.
Riku sat still, hands resting lightly on the wheel.The world outside the windshield seemed to slow, the mist thickening, the road ahead stretching out like a dare.
A handkerchief dropped between them.
Tires screeched.The Silvia shot forward, tires barking against the cold asphalt.
Riku rolled off the clutch and eased into first gear, the Prelude gliding forward — smooth, unhurried.
He wasn't racing.
Not yet.
He was just driving.
The mountain curled its finger toward him, inviting him upward.
And deep inside the mist, a ghost began to wake.