The Day Before the Race
Morning – Gas Station
The gas station had never felt so quiet.
Not in the literal sense—pumps clicked, tires rolled over pavement, and the hum of idling engines still echoed against the concrete—but the vibe was off. Heavy. Tense.
March stood frozen by pump #4, hands stuffed into the sleeves of her hoodie. The breeze tugged at her skirt, but she didn't feel it. Not really.
Seele leaned against the rust-stained fuel dispenser, arms crossed over her chest, jaw set. Pela stood beside her, methodically twirling a lock of her platinum hair around one gloved finger, eyes hidden behind slim, cold lenses.
The words hit March like a sucker punch.
"Wait—her engine blew up?!"
Pela nodded without looking up. "Last night. Yougou Pass. During practice."
Collei, standing silently beside March, blinked hard. The early morning chill bit through her hoodie, but the cold in her gut had nothing to do with the weather.
"Is Beidou okay?" March's voice cracked around the question.
Seele exhaled through her nose, her breath misting slightly in the crisp air. "Yeah. She's fine. Barely kissed the guardrail. If her reflexes were even half a second slower, she'd be in the hospital right now."
Pela glanced at March, her voice even and clinical. "She lost traction going into the third hairpin. Rear kicked out. Full 360 spin at 100 kph. She kept it out of the trees." A pause. "Barely."
March's breath left her in a tight, shaky sigh. Relief... but no comfort.
Silence took hold again. Until March said what they were all thinking.
"Then… who's racing in her place?"
Seele didn't flinch. "Me." She tilted her chin toward the parking lot, where her midnight blue Fairlady S30Z sat under the rising sun, paint catching glints of gold and silver in the morning light. "The Z's warmed up and ready."
Collei and March exchanged a glance. It wasn't relief, exactly—but something close. A chance. A thread of hope in a storm.
Beidou's Garage – The Aftermath
The garage stank of burnt oil and regret.
Beidou stood with her boots planted in a puddle of coolant, staring down at the hollowed corpse of her R32. The RB26DETT lay exposed, its once-pristine assembly now a charred, oil-soaked ruin. Pistons cooked. Seals ruptured. Bearings? Gone.
Smoke had long cleared, but the smell hadn't. It clung to the walls, the floor, her clothes.
Beidou didn't move. Didn't speak.
Her mechanic finally broke the silence with a low whistle, hands on his hips. "Damn thing's lucky it didn't take the whole bay with it."
Beidou exhaled slowly through her teeth. Her fingers twitched at her sides, clenching into fists. "Yeah. Not exactly the send-off I had in mind."
The mechanic reached for a rag and wiped the sweat from his neck. "You wrung every last ounce outta that block. I told you it was riding the edge."
"I needed more grip coming out of that downhill straight. I redlined second into third."
"Redlined? You cooked it alive. But I get it." He tossed the rag onto the workbench. "The RB26 is a legend, but this one was stock. You outgrew it."
She didn't respond. Just stared into the abyss of her ruined powerplant.
"We've already put in the order," the mechanic said, stepping closer. "Guy we know in Konda. Does billet builds. Whole new RB26DETT block—heat-treated, custom porting, forged internals. You'll get your torque back, and then some."
Beidou's jaw tightened. Her eyes finally moved from the engine bay to the ceiling. "How long?"
"Minimum two weeks. Could be three."
That hit harder than the engine failure.
She inhaled sharply and rubbed her face with a grease-streaked glove. The sting of defeat bit into her throat. "The race is tomorrow."
The mechanic didn't answer right away. He didn't need to. Beidou already knew.
He just nodded solemnly and laid a hand on her shoulder. "We'll rebuild her stronger. But right now?" He gave her a sympathetic look. "You gotta let it go."
Beidou swallowed hard. The smell of metal and oil made her stomach twist. "I'm not scared of losing," she muttered. "But this? Sitting out?"
"Sometimes the strongest thing a racer can do is step back and trust someone else to hold the wheel."
She stared at the broken heart of her R32 one last time. The beast was dead. For now.
Then she turned on her heel and walked out, the garage door groaning closed behind her.
Hours Later – Hearth's Tofu Shop
The S30Z purred to a stop, engine settling into a steady idle. Beidou sat stiffly in the passenger seat, her knee bouncing, fingers tapping a restless beat on the leather armrest. The old Nissan smelled of vinyl, dust, and gas—not like home. Not like the R32.
Seele said nothing as she killed the ignition.
Beidou unbuckled and stepped out, boots crunching against gravel. She pushed through the tofu shop door. The bell above gave a flat chime. Warm air rolled out—deep-fried soy, old oil, wood polish. Familiar. Nostalgic. Comforting and oppressive all at once.
Behind the counter, Arlecchino was wiping down the wood in slow, deliberate circles. Her coat was off, sleeves rolled up, forearms laced with faint scars and burn marks—stories of an entirely different battlefield.
She looked up and smirked. "Oh, it's you."
"Where's your car?"
The words slipped out raw, unfiltered.
Her eyes scanned Beidou's face, reading the exhaustion behind the bravado. Beidou's smirk faltered.
"…Engine blew," Beidou admitted. "Two nights ago."
Arlecchino's hand paused mid-wipe. Her expression flickered—something unreadable, something that might've been concern.
"Damn," she muttered. "That's rough."
Beidou shrugged one shoulder. It felt like her entire body weighed a thousand pounds. "I'm fine. Barely avoided wrecking out." She cleared her throat. "Just… one box of fried tofu."
Arlecchino nodded. She moved efficiently, filling a box without another word, the hum of the fryer and distant voices outside the only sound.
Then, as she slid the container across the counter, she spoke—quiet, but firm.
"You know… I thought it over."
Beidou looked up, confused.
"I might race for you tonight."
Beidou blinked. The words hit like a jolt to the spine.
"…Wait. You will?"
Arlecchino's smirk returned, just a little wider now. "Guess you'll find out."
Beidou's heart leapt in her chest. It wasn't hope—it was something wilder. Desperate gratitude clawed up her throat, and she grabbed the tofu like it was a lifeline.
"You won't regret this!" she said, already turning for the door.
She didn't wait for a reply. Didn't want to give Arlecchino time to change her mind. She sprinted out, the bell above the door jingling violently behind her.
Arlecchino leaned back against the counter, arms folded, her eyes still on the door.
"You won't regret this, Ms. Arlecchino!" Beidou's voice echoed from the lot.
Arlecchino chuckled low under her breath, the sound dark and amused. Her eyes dropped to the half-cleaned countertop, fingers idly drumming against the wood.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Little do you know…"
She pushed away from the counter, walking toward the back room.
"…I'm not the one driving the Eight-Six tonight."
Later That Afternoon
Collei leaned against the faded drywall of the kitchen, her arms crossed, body language defensive but coiled, like a spring waiting to snap. Her eyes tracked Arlecchino with a simmering intensity—the older woman lounging in a sun-warmed chair by the window, boots propped up on the table like she owned the place, thumbing through her phone without a care in the world.
Collei chewed at the inside of her cheek. The silence grated on her nerves.
"Hey, Dad—" she began, her voice tentative, every syllable carefully balanced. "Can I borrow the car tomorrow?"
Arlecchino didn't even glance up. Her thumb lazily scrolled the screen, smirk barely concealed. "No can do, kiddo. I've got a meeting."
Collei's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Your timing sucks. I need it."
Arlecchino gave a little snort, a low sound that was equal parts amused and sharp-edged. "Ohh, I see how it is." She paused dramatically. "Taking your pink-haired friend out for a little nighttime drive, huh?"
Collei's face turned scarlet. "Wha—?! That's—none of your business!"
She huffed and spun away, arms tightening over her chest like a shield. "Stop being annoying and just let me take the car!"
Arlecchino's voice slid in behind her like a knife. Smooth, but dangerous.
"That car isn't moving without the key. And that key?" She dangled it between two fingers like a prize. "It's gonna be hanging around my neck. Try to take it, and you better be ready to fight."
Collei spun back around, irritation blazing in her eyes. "Ugh! What's your deal?"
The tension hung in the air, hot and heavy.
Then Arlecchino cracked a smile. "Fine. You can take the car."
Collei blinked. "Really?! Thanks, Dad—"
Arlecchino's expression twisted into something sharper—wolfish, like she was waiting for the punchline to hit. "On one condition."
The joy in Collei's eyes faded into wary caution. "...What condition?"
With a flick of her wrist, Arlecchino sent the keys spinning in the air. They jingled faintly before landing with a solid clink in her palm.
"Tonight. 10 PM. You're heading up to Yougou Pass."
Collei's brow furrowed. "Okay…?"
"There's a girl up there," Arlecchino said, voice lower now. "Drives an FD. Midnight purple, rotary scream, full Sendai spec." She leaned forward, crimson eyes gleaming. "Your job? Smoke her. Beat the ever-loving shit out of her on the downhill."
Collei stared at her like she'd just been handed a live grenade.
"You're kidding," she muttered.
"I never kid about racing," Arlecchino said, tossing the keys with a flick of her fingers.
Collei caught them midair, the cool metal biting into her palm.
Arlecchino's voice darkened, eyes serious now. "Win, and I'll even throw in a full tank of gas for you."
Collei's mouth twitched. She stared down at the keys for a long moment, then slowly lifted her head, a wild grin spreading across her face.
"A full tank of gas? Deal."
Arlecchino leaned back, satisfied. "That's my girl."
As Collei walked toward the stairs, Arlecchino, with her hand still wrapped around the key, Her voice followed Collei, low and dangerous.
"Now get some rest, kid. You're gonna need it tonight."
Gas Station – Pre-Race Preparations
The garage floor was coated in a thin sheen of oil and dust, the air thick with exhaust and iron. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the scene. The Z sat like a predator beneath the open hood—its black bodywork gleaming under the lights, a monster held in chains.
Beidou leaned over the bay, sleeves rolled up, gloves smudged with grime. Her fingers tapped the intake manifold once, twice, as she muttered specs under her breath.
"3.1-liter L28. Twin turbos. Ball bearing cores. Tuned to six hundred horses, easy."
She straightened, wiping her hands on a red shop rag, gaze flicking over to Seele.
"But horsepower won't save you in the corners. If you can't hold a fucking line through a downhill sweeper, you're dead."
Seele looked up from where she was crouched, tightening a hose clamp on the intercooler piping. Her silver hair was pulled back, jaw clenched.
"I know that," she shot back, a little sharper than she intended. "Boost is down. She's making around four hundred right now."
Beidou gave a grunt of approval, but her eyes still said she wasn't fully convinced.
From underneath the car, a voice rang out—cool, calm, and razor-sharp.
"Suspension's locked in. Toe, camber, caster—everything's to spec."
Pela slid out on the creeper, wiping her hands as she stood. Her lab coat was long gone, replaced by coveralls and racing gloves.
"You're ready, Seele. Especially if you're up against Keqing."
Seele exhaled, shoulders tight. "...I'm still not convinced Arlecchino's gonna show."
Beidou just smiled—confident, defiant. "She'll be here," she said, like it was law. "She promised me."
Mt. Yougou – The Summit – 9:00 PM
The mountain was alive.
Engines screamed up the switchbacks like war cries, headlights carving white scars through the darkness. The crowd at the summit was thick—tuners, racers, wannabes, pros. Everyone smelled the storm coming. The air was gasoline and nerves.
Beidou stood with her arms crossed, watching every car that rolled in. Her RX-7 parked nearby, silent and waiting. Seele paced near the S30Z, flexing her fingers, eyes twitching to the entrance every few seconds.
And then the RX-7s arrived.
First, Ningguang's FC. Smooth, effortless, refined. It slid into the rest area like a blade sliding into silk. She stepped out, sunglasses still on despite the night, posture regal.
Then came Keqing.
The FD snarled up the final incline, rotary buzz high-pitched and angry. Keqing popped the door open before it stopped moving, boots crunching gravel as she stepped out, violet eyes scanning the crowd like she was hunting prey.
Ningguang leaned in close. "You sure about this?"
Keqing cracked her neck with a grin. "I didn't come here for pleasantries."
Beidou checked her watch. Still nothing.
"She'll be here," she muttered.
Base of Yougou – 9:10 PM
The AE86 idled softly in the gas station forecourt, the streetlights flickering like warning signs. Collei sat behind the wheel, palms resting on the steering wheel, fingers twitching. Her heart pounded against her ribs like a war drum.
Arlecchino stood by the pump, one foot up on the curb, lighting a cigarette with a match that flared bright in the dark.
Collei glanced over. "Hey, Dad…"
"Mm?"
"Should I bring a water cup? You know… like before?"
Arlecchino chuckled, exhaling slowly. "You're not carrying tofu tonight, kid."
Her eyes locked on Collei, voice flat and serious.
"All you need to carry tonight… is your pride."
Collei nodded once.
Then she gripped the wheel, blipped the throttle, and dropped into first. The NA 4A-GE screamed to life, its raw bark echoing through the trees as the Eight-Six tore away from the station, tires biting into the tarmac like a beast unchained.
Summit – 9:30 PM
Keqing was getting twitchy. Her arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping.
"If the Eight-Six isn't showing, at least tell me who I'm racing."
Beidou opened her mouth—then the radio on Seele's belt squawked to life.
"Hey! We got a car coming up fast! Black-and-white. Pop-up lights. Might be an Eight-Six, but—holy shit—it just blew past us like a missile."
Keqing's head snapped toward the road.
Silence fell like a dropped gear.
Then—
"She's here," Beidou whispered.
Keqing's smile turned feral. "Took you long enough… Phantom."
She turned to Seele. "Move your car."
Seele exhaled and stepped back. "With pleasure."
Then—like a shadow shot from a railgun—the Eight-Six rounded the bend. It skidded to a stop in a perfect arc, tires whispering across the gravel like silk. The U-turn was flawless, surgical. The engine dropped to idle, pulsing low and steady.
Then the door opened.
And Collei stepped out.
The crowd went dead silent.
Green hair. Tan jacket. Gloves still scuffed from morning deliveries.
Beidou's breath hitched.
Keqing's smirk vanished.
Even Ningguang blinked.
March stepped forward, stunned.
"No way…" she whispered. "That's… Collei?"
And in that moment, the legend wasn't just alive.
She was the mountain.