The morning sun spilled across the cracked sidewalk outside the café, casting long beams of light through the smudged glass windows. Inside, the low murmur of conversations mixed with the hiss of the espresso machine and the clink of ceramic cups. The air was thick with the scent of roasted beans and vanilla syrup. Beidou and Collei sat tucked into their usual corner booth, half-hidden behind a potted ficus, the table between them littered with two untouched coffees and a plate of untouched toast.
The mood was far from casual.
Beidou leaned forward, her forearms resting heavy on the faux-wood surface. She didn't slouch. Not today. Her fingers were steepled under her chin, expression sharp, the crows' feet around her eyes deeper than usual.
"I talked to Eula last night," she said, voice low and deliberate. "She wants to race you—on Amakane Pass. Tomorrow night."
No sugar-coating. No buildup.
Collei didn't react immediately. She stared into her coffee like it held the answer, watching the ripples vibrate against the ceramic from the slight tremor in her hand. Her thumb rubbed slowly along the side of the cup. The smell, the warmth, none of it reached her.
She finally looked up. "I don't know, Beidou." Her voice was quiet but firm, her words clipped. "Something about her doesn't sit right with me."
Beidou frowned. "What do you mean?"
Collei's gaze drifted to the window, beyond the crowded sidewalk and traffic, into memory. "Since we first met her… she's been trying way too hard to get close to you. To get into our scene. And now she wants me? Just like that?" She tapped her finger against the ceramic, rhythmic and tense. "It's like she's maneuvering around something—getting someone else to push me into it."
Beidou exhaled through her nose, more forcefully than intended. "Look," she said, leveling her tone, "this isn't some mind game. She told me herself—this is her last race. She's retiring. Stepping off the mountain for good." She paused, letting the words sink in. "She wants a challenge before she bows out. She wanted Ningguang, but she's too far gone. That leaves you. And she knows you're the real deal."
Collei blinked once, slowly, as her mind ticked through the variables. She didn't answer right away.
But then a memory crashed in—uninvited, vivid.
The squeal of tires. The scent of scorched rubber bleeding into the cold mountain air. Eula's GT86—white, pristine, surgically precise—snaking through a series of linked drifts on a wet downhill. Every line was intentional. The weight transfer was flawless. Her braking points were conservative but deliberate. It wasn't flashy. It was cold-blooded execution.
Collei's voice returned, low and calm. "I remember her. She drove like a machine. She didn't just drift that hairpin—she dissected it."
Beidou leaned back, watching her. Waiting.
A long silence passed. Then, with the resolve of someone flipping a switch in their soul, Collei nodded.
"Alright," she said. "I'll take the Eight-Six to Amakane."
Beidou's face lit up, relief flooding her features. "Yes! That's what I'm talking about!" She leaned back in the booth, tension slipping from her shoulders like a weight dropped off a cliff.
But Collei wasn't done.
She lifted a single finger, her gaze razor-sharp. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not doing this for her. I don't give a shit about whatever drama's going on between you two. You asked me. That's the only reason I'm in."
Beidou's grin faltered, the adrenaline dialing back. She nodded, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. "I get it. You have my word. It'll be worth it."
Collei exhaled slowly. Her voice was a quiet burn. "It better be."
The silence that followed wasn't comfortable—but it was understood. Between them hung the weight of more than just a race. And outside, the café's low hum continued, blissfully unaware that the fuse had already been lit.
Gas Station — Early Afternoon
By the time the sun had crossed its peak, the gas station was a pressure cooker of rumors. Every conversation, every socket wrench and pneumatic hiss came to a halt when March's voice cut through the din like a siren.
"WHAT!?" she shouted, practically jumping out of her sneakers. "You're telling me Collei actually said yes to racing that GT86 on Amakane!? That's fucking insane!"
Several of the mechanics turned their heads. A socket clinked to the floor.
Seele, arms folded, leaned against the roll-up garage door. She didn't flinch. "I know," she said simply. "But you know how she is. Once she says yes, she follows through. No hesitation. No backing down."
March ran a hand through her hair, pacing like a stray bullet. "But why there!? Yougou's her playground. It's where she controls the lines. She knows every camber shift and drainage groove on that road. Amakane? That's—" She flailed. "That's giving away the goddamn map."
Before Seele could offer a rebuttal, the low, thundering growl of a tuned engine rolled over the hill like a thunderclap. A moment later, a blur of electric blue swept around the bend and into the lot.
The Nissan Sileighty slid into place in a clean, low-angled arc—no tire squeal, just a whisper of rubber and control. The engine idle was pure butter. Amber stepped out, slamming the door shut behind her with a smirk.
"Well?" she called. "What do you think?"
Seele's sharp gaze drifted across the car. The deep blue paint was flawless, polished to a mirror. The gold BBS LMs caught the light like jewelry. Not a single speck of grime on the lip.
"That shade's perfect," Seele admitted. "And those wheels? Chef's kiss. You've been busy."
Amber grinned, brushing a fleck of dust from her shoulder. "Since the day I got here."
March didn't skip a beat. She pointed at the hood. "Alright, hotshot. What's under there?"
Amber's smile stretched wider. "SR20DET. Ball-bearing turbo, high-mount manifold, tuned for 480 to the rear."
Seele raised her eyebrows. "That's more than enough. You could wheelie that thing if you weren't careful."
Amber winked. "Only on weekends."
Then her expression shifted—eyes narrowing, voice lowering a half octave. "So. The race. Tonight?"
Both March and Seele nodded.
Amber's instincts caught the change in atmosphere immediately. The tension. The quiet worry hidden behind forced calm. She tilted her head. "Mind if I come along?"
Seele didn't hesitate. "Yeah. Support's good."
Off to the side, leaning lazily against a steel column, Lyney pushed up his sunglasses and muttered, mostly to himself, "Collei's racing the Amakane GT86, huh…"
A pause.
"…Interesting."
The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching across the pavement like long fingers. The smell of gasoline lingered in the air. Around them, the world spun as always—but for the team, the night ahead felt heavy with consequence.
This wasn't just another race.
This was a crossroads.
And at the center of it all was Collei, driving into something far bigger than she realized.
A Change in the Wind
The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, bleeding streaks of molten orange and bruised violet across the sky as Arlecchino stood in the kitchen, the pale refrigerator light casting her sharp features in ghostly contrast. Cold air breathed against her skin as she stared at the barren shelves inside. Milk? Gone. Eggs? Mysteriously vanished. Leftovers? Probably old enough to file taxes.
She clicked her tongue, closed the door with a thud, and muttered under her breath, "Guess we're taking the Eight-Six for a spin."
The old jacket came off the hook in one smooth motion. She slung it over her shoulders and stepped outside, her boots hitting the concrete with clipped finality. The air outside was crisp and biting, perfumed with oil, distant exhaust, and the static silence of a twilight not yet broken by nightfall. A scent she knew as well as her own name.
But as she stepped off the porch, something froze her in place. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
Her driveway—empty.
Her eyes scanned once, twice, then locked onto it.
The AE86 Trueno was gone.
In its place: a wide-bodied MK4 Toyota Supra, sitting squat and defiant under the dying light. Midnight black. Vented hood. A wing on the rear that screamed function before form. The twin-turbo beast looked like it had been air-dropped in from a high-octane fever dream.
"…What in the actual fuck."
She stepped toward it cautiously, eyes narrowing as if the car might disappear. But it was real—too real. The stance, the gloss of the paint, the subtle ticking of the turbos cooling down. Someone had driven it hard before parking it here.
And then she saw it—tucked neatly under the windshield wiper.
A note.
Snatching it with a rough motion, Arlecchino unfolded it, her eyes scanning the messy scrawl:
"Hey Dad, I borrowed the car. Here's your replacement — Collei."
Her fingers crumpled the paper.
A long, slow exhale hissed through her teeth.
"Collei…"
En Route to Amakane Pass
Three cars tore through the night like wolves running down prey. The Eight-Six led the formation, its white-on-black paint shimmering like an apparition under the orange arc-sodium streetlights. Close behind, Amber's freshly minted Sileighty purred, the low whine of its turbo echoing with rhythmic precision. And tailing both like a silent predator: Beidou's R32 Skyline, its RB26DETT engine howling beneath the hood.
Their formation cut clean through the empty expressway, a convoy of precision and controlled chaos. Brake lights flickered in unison during tight lane changes. Turbos spooled and fluttered with each throttle release. They weren't driving—they were slicing through the city's veins.
Inside the Eight-Six, March slouched in the passenger seat, but her eyes were alert. She broke the silence with a nervous giggle. "Think your dad's gonna forgive you for hot-wiring the Supra?"
Collei's hands gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, the leather-wrapped rim worn smooth from endless laps. She didn't look over. "He will. Eventually."
The tach needle hovered just under 6,000 RPM, the engine purring steadily in fifth. But the tension in Collei's shoulders betrayed the calm of her hands.
"I mean… we did just rob a demon's car," March muttered. "I hope that was worth the grocery run."
In the R32, things weren't nearly as lighthearted.
Seele sat with her arms crossed, the seatbelt pressing into her chest as she glared out the windshield. The low hum of the inline-six filled the cabin like a war drum. Her voice, when it came, was sharp as glass.
Act: 4 Chapter 3 | Challenge Accepted.
The following morning, Beidou and Collei met up at their usual café in Yougou. It was a quiet little place, tucked away from the bustling main streets, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the faint aroma of gasoline from the nearby tuning shops. This was their sanctuary, the place where they often took time to relax, sip coffee, and have long, drawn-out conversations about racing, life, and the road ahead. But today, the air between them was different—charged, heavier. The topic at hand wasn't just another casual chat about engine specs or the best line through a tricky hairpin. Today was about Eula's so-called "Final Race."
Beidou leaned forward, both hands firmly placed on the table, her eyes locked onto Collei's with an intensity that left no room for casual bullshit. "So," she began, her tone both serious and eager, "I talked to Eula last night. She wants to race you—on her home turf, no less—tomorrow night. Are you willing to do it for her, Collei?"
Collei took a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee, leaning back in her chair, her expression unreadable. The warmth of the cup in her hands was comforting, but her mind wasn't on the drink. It was spinning, trying to process what Beidou had just laid out. "I don't know, Beidou," she muttered finally, exhaling through her nose. "Something about her bugs me. After what you said when we stopped by that restaurant… I couldn't shake the feeling that she lied to you. She's been trying to get close to you, to talk you into challenging me to a race. It feels off."
Beidou let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her dark hair. "Come on, Collei! She told me it's her wish to race you before stepping back from racing in Amakane. She's been wanting to race the most challenging driver she can find. Ningguang is out of reach, and you're the only option left in the wild."
Collei furrowed her brows, her mind now racing faster than any car on the mountain pass. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut. And then, like a film reel spinning in reverse, a memory surfaced.
A flashback from years ago: Eula, behind the wheel of her GT86, gracefully maneuvering through the tight corners of Amakane Pass under the glow of the streetlights. She handled the course with the kind of precision that made seasoned racers pause—flawlessly drifting into hairpin A105 with no wasted movement, no second-guessing. A continuous inertia drift, perfect in execution. It had been a moment that stuck with Collei, buried deep but never truly forgotten.
She blinked, snapping back to the present. Beidou was still looking at her, waiting. Collei's gaze softened, but behind it, a quiet storm was brewing. "Alright," she said finally, her voice steady, decisive. "I'll do it. I'll take the Eight Six to Amakane Pass."
Beidou's eyes lit up, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. "Alright! Thanks, Collei! You're the greatest!" she exclaimed, her excitement barely contained.
Collei, however, wasn't about to let her get carried away. She held up a single finger, stopping Beidou in her tracks. "I'm only doing this because you asked," she said, her tone firm, her words weighted with meaning. "I don't give a shit about whatever is going on between you two. But it better be worth my damn effort, Beidou."
Beidou nodded quickly, knowing better than to push further. "Trust me, it will be."
By the time the afternoon rolled around, word had already spread like wildfire through the gas station.
March's voice rang out, loud and incredulous, cutting through the usual noise of tools clanking and engines revving. "WHAT!? You're telling me Collei actually agreed to race Amakane's GT86!? That's freakin' crazy!!!"
Seele, standing nearby, exhaled through her nose and crossed her arms. Unlike March, she wasn't the type to get too worked up over things, but even she looked mildly concerned. "I know," she admitted. "But once Collei makes up her mind, there's no backing out. You know how she is—when she commits, she follows through."
March rubbed her cheek, clearly unsettled. "It's just so unlike her to race anywhere outside of Yougou. This is her home turf, you know? Why the hell would she go to Amakane?"
Before Seele could respond, the deep, throaty rumble of an engine grew louder in the distance. A moment later, a sleek, electric-blue Nissan Sileighty pulled into the lot, its engine purring with the kind of fine-tuned smoothness that came from hours of dedication.
Amber stepped out, her expression brimming with energy. She slammed the door shut and turned toward them, eyes shining with excitement. "Hey! What do you think?" she asked, her voice laced with enthusiasm.
Seele's sharp gaze ran over the car, taking in every detail before nodding in approval. "Gotta say, that shade of blue is perfect," she said. "And those gold BBS LM wheels? Exquisite. You really put some love into this thing."
Amber's face flushed, a bashful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She rubbed the back of her neck, clearly flattered. "Gee, thanks, guys. I've been working on this build since I moved here. It's been a labor of love."
March, however, wasn't about to let the conversation end there. Her eyes flicked toward the hood, curiosity gleaming in her expression. "Alright, spill it. What's under there?"
Amber's grin widened as she casually leaned against the car, arms crossed. "SR20DET," she answered with pride. "Slightly modified, pushing around 480 horsepower to the rears."
Seele and March exchanged glances, both visibly impressed. That was more than enough power for a lightweight car like the Sileighty—Amber wasn't playing around.
Amber pushed off the car, standing tall. "So, the race is tonight, right?"
Both Seele and March nodded in near-unison, though neither looked particularly thrilled about it. They weren't worried about Collei's skill—far from it. But there was something unsettling about this whole situation. The fact that Collei was willing to leave her comfort zone, to race on someone else's home turf… it wasn't normal.
Amber raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension. "Mind if I come along?" she asked. "I'd love to watch the race."
Seele gave her a short nod. "Yeah, of course. Support is always welcome."
Meanwhile, standing just within earshot, Lyney leaned casually against a nearby post, arms crossed, listening in. His lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. "Looks like Collei's racing the GT86 from Amakane," he murmured to himself, his tone laced with intrigue. "Hmm. Interesting."
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the stage was set. Amakane Pass would soon become the battleground for one of the most anticipated races in recent memory. But beneath the excitement, something else lingered in the air—an unshakable sense that this wasn't just about speed.
There was more to this race than anyone was letting on.
And Collei was about to find out exactly what.
A Change in the Wind
As the sun began its slow descent behind the horizon, painting the sky in a brilliant blend of orange and deep purple, Arlecchino found herself standing in her dimly lit kitchen, staring into the empty abyss of her fridge. The cold air barely reached her face before she sighed in frustration.
Milk? Gone. Eggs? Gone. Leftovers? Questionable.
She closed the door with a heavy sigh, running a hand through her hair. "Looks like we're taking the Eight Six for a spin to the grocery store," she muttered to herself.
Pulling on her jacket, she stepped outside, her boots clicking against the pavement of the driveway. The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of gasoline and the faint hum of distant engines—comforting in its familiarity.
But the second she looked toward her car, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Her breath hitched, and her eyes went wide.
"...What in the hell?"
She blinked once. Twice. Three times.
Her Eight Six—her pride and joy, the car she had built and maintained with her own two hands—was gone.
And in its place sat something entirely different.
A Supra.
Arlecchino's mouth parted slightly, her pulse quickening. "My Eight Six… turned into a Supra?" she whispered in disbelief.
It didn't make any damn sense. The sleek, aggressive shape of the Toyota Supra MK4 gleamed under the evening light, its wide-body stance and rear spoiler making it clear that it wasn't some cheap replacement. It was a proper performance car.
And tucked under the windshield wiper was a note.
Frowning, she took cautious steps toward the car, snatched the piece of paper, and unfolded it with slightly trembling fingers.
"Hey Dad, I borrowed the car. Here's your replacement – Collei."
Silence.
Then, realization dawned.
Arlecchino inhaled sharply, her jaw tightening. "Collei…"
En Route to Amakane Pass
The expressway hummed with the sounds of roaring engines as a convoy of three cars carved through the night. The iconic black-and-white Eight Six led the pack, followed closely by a blue Sileighty, with a gunmetal-gray R32 Skyline bringing up the rear.
The rhythmic growl of the engines, the whir of turbos spooling, and the occasional flutter of blow-off valves filled the air as they surged forward, the neon-lit highway stretching out ahead of them.
Inside the Eight Six, March let out a quiet giggle, breaking the tense silence. "Hope your dad doesn't mind driving my Supra for the night," she mused, glancing at Collei from the passenger seat.
Collei's hands remained steady on the wheel, her expression unreadable. "I hope not too," she murmured, but there was an unmistakable edge to her voice—something between determination and unease.
Meanwhile, inside the R32, the mood was far less lighthearted.
Seele sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her arms crossed, her expression dark. She exhaled through her nose, shifting her gaze toward Beidou, who gripped the steering wheel firmly, eyes fixed on the road.
"Hey, Beidou… I gotta ask you something."
Beidou flicked a glance at her. "What is it?"
Seele hesitated, her fingers tightening around her seatbelt strap before she finally said it. "I just want to know... whose side are you on?"
The question hit.
Beidou's hands tensed around the wheel, and for a split second, her focus wavered.
Seele didn't let up. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're throwing Collei into the ditch just to patch things up with Eula."
Beidou's expression hardened, but her eyes remained forward. "That's a load of horseshit, Seele, and you know it."
"Oh, I know?" Seele snapped, her voice cutting through the engine noise. "Then tell me this: do you honestly think Collei has a chance of winning this race on a course she's never seen before? Or are you just okay with watching her leave Amakane with a loss on her record?"
Beidou remained silent.
Seele scoffed. "Yeah. Thought so."
For a brief moment, Beidou's foot tapped anxiously on the accelerator, the R32 surging forward before she corrected her speed. The flutter of the wastegate punctuated the silence.
Seele's tone softened, but her words were no less biting. "She doesn't stand a chance on this course, Beidou. The only course Collei really knows is Yougou. Amakane Pass is different. It's more like a rally stage than a traditional touge. Even veteran racers struggle with it."
She turned to look at Beidou, her expression unreadable. "You and I both know she hasn't had a single practice run here. Meanwhile, Eula knows every single inch of that course. She could drive it blindfolded. This race might already be decided. So tell me—is this really what you want?"
Beidou's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Seele's voice grew cold. "If you keep pulling this crap, Beidou, you can consider our friendship—and my place on your team—over."
That hit harder than anything else.
Beidou inhaled sharply, her fingers flexing against the leather steering wheel as her foot eased off the accelerator.
A long, heavy silence hung between them.
Then, at last, Beidou exhaled.
"...You're right," she admitted, her voice quiet but filled with guilt. "I messed up. Big time."
The R32 sped up. So did the silence.
The Last Stop Before the Race
The convoy pulled into a dimly lit convenience store, the kind of place where time seemed to stand still. Flickering lights buzzed above the parking lot. A stray dog wandered past the vending machines. The air had the sharp chill of oncoming nightfall.
Engines cut off, one by one.
Beidou stepped out of her car and made a beeline for the Eight-Six. Collei was already halfway out the door, stretching her legs, when Beidou called her name.
"Collei."
The tone made her stop.
"I think you should back out."
Collei turned slowly, expression unreadable.
Beidou's voice was tight. "Look, this is bigger than we thought. Your streak—your whole reputation—it's on the line here. And Eula's… she's ready. You don't have to do this."
Seele joined her, arms crossed. "We can take care of the fallout. Just walk away."
Collei didn't flinch. Her face held no anger, no rebellion. Just… stillness.
"No."
Beidou's brows knit together. "What?"
Collei repeated, firmer now. "No. I'm not turning back."
Beidou stepped forward. "You've seen what Eula can do. She'll leave you in the dust!"
Collei's smirk was small, but sharp. "Then let her try."
Seele's voice cut in, frustration flaring. "Why are you being so stubborn!? You're the Eight-Six of Yougou! You've got a legacy now!"
Collei stared at the horizon, the wind tugging lightly at her hair. "And I never asked for that."
She turned back toward her car, hand resting on the familiar metal of the driver-side door.
"I started out delivering tofu. I didn't care about wins or titles. People started calling me a legend, and suddenly I couldn't even shift gears without someone analyzing it."
She looked over her shoulder, gaze cold and clear.
"So let them talk. Let them bet on me. I'm not doing this for them."
Beidou was silent. Seele, too.
Collei climbed in and shut the door with a clean clack. She twisted the key.
The 4A-GE came alive with a rough bark, settling into a steady, angry idle. The headlights flicked on, cutting through the dark like twin blades.
Inside the cabin, Collei tightened her gloves.
Amber leaned against her Sileighty, watching from a distance, eyes wide with something between awe and concern.
Seele stared at the Eight-Six, then turned toward Beidou. "We should've known," she muttered.
Beidou didn't reply. She just watched that old familiar silhouette pull away from the curb, tail lights glowing red in the dark.
The wind had changed.
And on Amakane Pass, everything was about to be tested.
Moments later, the group begins their ascent of Amakane Pass.
The low grumble of combustion builds into a chorus as engines come to life one by one, melding into the eerie quiet of the mountain like some restless animal exhaling in its sleep. Collei leads the way in the AE86, the twin pop-ups cutting white arcs through the dark as her rear tires catch traction and roll into the climb. Her fingers are curled tight around the steering wheel, knuckles barely pale under the leather gloves. She's focused—eyes locked ahead, already racing the road in her head. She doesn't need to see the next corner to know how deep to brake, where the camber shifts, how wide the exit pushes.
Behind her, Seele and Beidou follow in the R32, its RB26DETT snarling up the rev band like a caged monster ready to pounce. The sound is meaty and aggressive, turbo spool slicing faintly through the growl. Amber brings up the rear in the Sileighty, her engine note higher pitched, a rasping twin-cam buzz that echoes along the cliffside like the whisper of a blade being drawn.
As they snake up the mountain, the mechanical symphony reverberates off stone and foliage. The pass feels alive—like it's watching.
Air thickens with the perfume of burning fuel, the faint scorched tang of rubber scrubbed on asphalt. The road narrows as the group climbs, patches of mist sliding between trees and guardrails like ghosts lingering from the battles fought here long ago. Headlights slice through the darkness, carving tunnels of light as the road coils tighter with each elevation gain.
Inside the AE86, Collei doesn't speak. Her right foot is smooth, precise—modulating the throttle like a scalpel. Her left hovers over the clutch, ready to heel-toe downshift at a moment's notice. She feels everything. The chassis flex through the wheel, the subtle play in the rear when the differential loads up, the harmonic vibration as she clips the apex just close enough to kiss it. Her movements are unflinching—instinct married to experience.
Behind her, in the R32's passenger seat, Seele watches Collei's lines, lips tight. Tension winds across her brow as she mutters, almost to herself, "Sorry if I came off harsh earlier. But seriously, how the hell can we talk her out of this after that fucking monologue?"
Beidou, one arm draped lazily out the window, keeps her eyes on the AE86's taillights. She watches the way the Trueno flicks through the turns—light on entry, feathered on exit, the tail just kissing the edge of oversteer before being reeled back in with surgical throttle control. "I know, right?" she finally says, voice calm, but not dismissive. "She's something else. You never really figure her out. I don't know if she's gifted... or just has a screw loose in her skull."
The climb continues, and the mood grows heavier. Trees crowd the edges now, tall and close. The road ahead turns serpentine—tight switchbacks, shallow S-curves, uneven grades that test every inch of suspension travel. But Collei drives like the pavement is an extension of her body. The AE86 sways and slides and locks back in like it's tethered to the Earth.
Eventually, they reach the summit.
Gravel crunches beneath tires as the cars pull into a flat overlook—a clearing at the peak, shrouded in shadow. The engines tick in the aftermath, heat radiating from the hoods, some steam venting quietly into the moonlit air. Silence presses in. The whole world feels suspended.
Above, the moon hangs low and full, a silver eye casting its pale glow across the cracked asphalt. The trees surrounding the lot stand still—no wind, no rustle. Just the breath of machines and the adrenaline in their blood.
Eula steps out of her GT86 with the confident fluidity of someone used to owning space. She stretches—arms overhead, spine cracking in the quiet—then lets her gaze settle on Collei, who's just stepping away from her own car.
A beat passes between them. Eula breaks it first.
"Hey, Collei. Good to see you again." She says it with a smile, but there's a competitive glint in her eye—smooth and polished like a blade.
Collei mirrors it, but her smile is tighter. Sharper. The edge of something cold under the warmth. "Likewise, Eula." Her voice is calm, almost lazy, but there's something unsettling in her stillness—like a forest before a storm.
As Eula approaches, she takes a closer look—and the confidence wavers just a touch. Damn, she thinks. She's young. Like, really young.
"How old are you?" she asks, a hint of disbelief leaking in despite herself.
Collei doesn't blink. "Eighteen."
Eula blinks. "Eighteen? You're still in Senior High?"
Collei's smirk twists wider. "Not anymore. I graduated this spring."
For a moment, Eula just stares. Then she exhales, folding her arms against the side of her GT86. Her eyes sharpen, voice tightening to something more serious. "Alright then. Let's set the rules. Cat-and-mouse. You know the drill—mouse in front, cat chases. If the mouse pulls away, they win. If not, we switch until someone wins clean."
Collei nods. "Sounds fair."
Eula gestures with a hand. "You're the outsider. You pick. You chasing, or am I?"
Before Collei can answer, the others close in—Seele, Beidou, Amber, and March—swarming like pit crew on race day.
Seele grabs Collei's arm and steers her toward the Sileighty. Her voice is low, but the urgency's there. "Start behind the GT86. Learn her line. Study her rhythm. Let her think she's leading."
Amber immediately steps in, voice cutting and firm. "Nope. Bad idea. Seriously."
Everyone looks at her.
Amber plants her hands on her hips, unwavering. "If Collei's up front, she will figure Eula out. Like clockwork. She'll build a profile on her inside three corners and dismantle it by the fourth. She won't chase—she'll destroy."
Seele pauses. Then nods, slowly. "She's right. Collei... chase her. Make her show you everything."
Collei's smile is subtle, but something glints behind it. "That was my plan anyway."
She turns back toward Eula. No hesitation in her walk. "I'll chase."
Eula's brow twitches. Just a flicker. "Tch... So I don't get to study you. Figures."
Collei doesn't answer—just gives a small nod and slips back into the AE86 like she's slipping on armor. Seatbelt snaps in. Hands to the wheel. The key turns. The 4A-GE kicks over with a throaty snarl—metallic, raw, unfiltered. The pop-up headlights click up with a mechanical clunk, their twin beams throwing sharp light across the cracked pavement.
She gives the throttle a blip. The revs spike fast and smooth. Everything is dialed in. The car is lean, light, lethal.
Down below, far from the noise and tension of Amakane Pass, Arlecchino stirs a pot in the quiet kitchen of the tofu shop. Her phone buzzes across the counter like an angry insect.
"Damn. Just when I was making dinner." She snatches it up. "Harth's Tofu. What?"
Lyney's voice crackles through the line. "Arlecchino? It's Lyney."
Her tone flattens. "Oh. You. Make it quick, I'm cooking."
"It's Collei," he says, tone clipped and tense. "She's gone up Amakane Pass. With the others. It's a race."
There's a pause. Arlecchino exhales slowly through her nose. "So the kid went to the pass. And?"
Lyney's voice rises. "And?! Are you fucking serious? She's up there with no advice, no warning from you? How can you not care?"
She snorts, flicks the burner lower. "She doesn't need advice. She already knows the answer." She hangs up without another word.
Back at the peak, the air is thick. Electric. The road behind the starting line stretches downward into shadow and silence. Beidou steps up to Collei's window and slaps the roof twice, firm.
"Alright, kid. Let's see what you've got."
Collei glances at her. Her voice is ice over fire. "I'm chasing her for a reason."
The R32 and Sileighty back away, engines idling as they find spots to spectate.
Eula sits in her GT86, glancing in her rearview at the Trueno's low silhouette. Her grip tightens. She tries not to let her heart race too hard.
This is the edge. The drop. And once they dive in—
Everything changes.