Dawn's Quiet Reckoning
The first light of morning spilled faintly over Araumi Pass, painting the horizon in hues of dull amber and steel gray. The mountains loomed in quiet silhouette, and the roads below lay coiled like serpents—twisting, unforgiving. Collei stood at the overlook, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets, green eyes tracing the winding path that had, just two nights ago, tested her in ways she hadn't anticipated.
The ghost of that final straight haunted her—the roar of the Lancia beside her, the scream of her own tires clawing for grip, the screaming tachometer buried in the red. Her chest still felt tight with it, the raw memory of slamming third gear and giving everything the Eight Six had.
She had crossed the line first.
No—with Clorinde.
Not ahead.
Not enough.
A faint breeze pulled at her hair. Her knuckles clenched in her pockets.
Behind her, soft footsteps on gravel approached. Amber's voice broke the silence.
"Hey. You alright?"
Collei didn't turn. Her voice came quiet, strained. "Yeah. Just thinking. About last night."
Amber stepped beside her, hands on her hips, expression unreadable for a beat. "You mean... about the draw?"
A stiff nod. Then Collei's tone cracked, low and tight. "It doesn't feel like a win. Everyone cheered like it was, but... it's not. Not to me."
She exhaled sharply, her breath fogging in the morning chill. "I pushed that car to the fucking limit, Amber. Brake balance, steering angle, tire temps... I nailed everything. I did the gutter run, I had the perfect line, I even downshifted mid-corner on instinct—and she kept up. Every time I glanced at my mirror, she was right fucking there."
Amber's brow furrowed. "But Collei, it was a draw. That doesn't mean she beat you."
Collei finally turned, her eyes intense beneath tired lids. "Yeah, but it sure as hell means I didn't beat her."
She paused, jaw tightening. "I wanted to prove I'm faster than everyone. And now? Now I've got someone who matched me. Exactly. No lead, no gap. Just... dead even. Like I hit the ceiling of my skill, and she's standing right there with me."
Amber's voice dropped, soft but firm. "You're not done growing, Collei. This wasn't the peak. It was just another wall to break through. You think Clorinde's gonna stop here? Hell no. Neither should you."
Collei blinked at her, breathing steady but shallow.
Amber smiled faintly, her voice gentler now. "You're already the best downhill racer I know. But if you're still chasing something? Good. That's what makes you dangerous."
Slowly, Collei allowed herself a half-smile. "Thanks... Amber."
The Arrival of Feixiao
Later that day, as the golden afternoon light spilled over the peaks of Araumi, the sharp, distinctive hum of an approaching engine echoed through the trees. The sound wasn't a roar—it was a mechanical conversation, restrained, controlled. But it carried weight.
A gray Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX appeared in the rearview mirror of every parked car along the summit road, moving through each corner with crisp precision. The AWD system gripped cleanly as the car traced the apexes like a surgeon's scalpel—smooth, deliberate, with no wasted motion. The driver wasn't testing limits. She was studying them.
The Lancer rolled into the summit lot, its idle purring low and steady. Steam curled faintly from the intercooler vent as the engine ticked beneath the hood.
Ningguang was already there, leaning back against the hood of her immaculate white FC RX-7. She looked every bit the part of the queen of the mountain—calm, composed, unreadable behind her dark sunglasses. One hand flicked ash from a half-finished cigarette before she crushed it under her heel with surgical finality.
The Lancer's door clicked open. A girl stepped out—lean, white-haired, with fox-like ears that twitched subtly as they adjusted to the elevation. Her stance was loose, casual, but carried the practiced poise of someone who'd lived behind the wheel.
She smirked. "Hey, Ningguang. Long time no see."
Ningguang's lips curled. "Feixiao. Been a while."
Feixiao folded her arms, shifting her weight with a subtle clink of leather and nylon. "Thought I'd drop by. Get out of Jakotsu Pass for a bit. That place got boring fast. Figured I'd find something better."
A pause.
"And maybe challenge you to a rematch."
Ningguang raised one perfect brow, her interest piqued. "A rematch, hmm? After all this time?"
Feixiao's grin widened, teeth flashing. "Last year, you took my streak from me. First time I ever got beat on a dry course. Been thinking about it ever since."
Ningguang chuckled softly, low and rich. "Sorry to disappoint you."
Feixiao blinked. "What?"
The smile faded from Ningguang's lips, her voice dropping into something cooler. "You're too late. My streak's already been broken."
Feixiao's brows shot up. "No shit. Who?"
Ningguang stood straight, her coat catching the breeze. "I lost on Yougou Pass. Downhill. To an Eight Six."
Feixiao didn't reply at first. Her eyes narrowed. "That Eight Six?"
Ningguang nodded once. "The same."
Feixiao exhaled, rubbing the back of her glove against her jaw. "Huh. So the rumors are real."
She looked toward the horizon, her voice drifting. "I've heard things... about that car. The one that ghosts through corners like it's made of vapor. About the kid behind the wheel, too. Guess I'm gonna find out for myself."
Ningguang's eyes flicked toward her, sharp again. "You'll have your chance."
She moved toward the driver's side of her FC, unlocking it with a deft flick. "I'll arrange for the course to be cleared for the next two nights. Get your practice in. Get your line perfect."
Feixiao's jaw set as the RX-7 came alive with a shrill rotary purr.
"After that," Ningguang continued, shifting into gear with a precise flick of the wrist, "I'll race you."
With a howl from the twin-rotor engine, the FC tore off down the hill, leaving only the scent of burnt rubber and cigarette smoke.
Feixiao stood motionless, gaze locked on the trail of dust.
The Eight Six beat Ningguang?
Her fingers flexed around the wrist of her glove. That wasn't just a fluke. That was a statement. A new rival had stepped into the game.
And Feixiao wanted to see it up close.
The sun sank low over Yougou Pass, stretching shadows long across the tarmac and bathing the gas station in golden light.
It had been two days since the legendary dead heat between Collei and Clorinde, but the world hadn't moved on. The mountain air still hummed with tension, like something was coming.
A storm was gathering—one born not from the sky, but from the sound of engines winding up.
Feixiao had come for Ningguang.
But maybe, just maybe...
She'd found a new name to chase.
Yougou's Eight Six.
The legend wasn't over.
It had just evolved.
Collei's Lingering Doubt
The midday sun hung lazily overhead, casting long beams through the trees as a low hum filled the quiet at the edge of the gas station lot. Collei stood alone by pump four, methodically refueling the Eight Six, her movements mechanical. She didn't look up. Her eyes were fixed on the concrete below, and the soft hiss of gasoline flowing into the tank was the only thing grounding her.
March furrowed her brows, watching from a few feet away. Something about Collei was off. The usual brightness that animated her—even in the most mundane moments—was missing. Her stance was slouched, her shoulders heavy with something unspoken. That flicker of joy, that usual spark in her eyes when she was around the car, the crew—it was just... gone.
She turned to Beidou, who stood beside her battered R32, arms folded across her chest like a sentry. Her gaze hadn't left Collei once.
"Is it just me," March asked in a hushed voice, "or has Collei been acting weird lately?"
Beidou exhaled slowly, the breath leaving her chest like it had been building for hours. "No denying it," she said, her tone even, measured. "Ever since that draw with Clorinde, she's been different. It's like nothing's enough anymore. Like even perfection wouldn't satisfy her unless she knows she's ahead."
Amber stepped closer from her spot near the vending machines, a can of peach soda in one hand. "I talked to her earlier," she said, voice soft, eyes full of concern. "She expected to be ahead of the Lancia. Not by a little—she thought she could leave her. But a draw? That shook her. She's second-guessing everything now."
Seele, leaning against the Devil Z with her arms crossed and one boot hooked on the rear bumper, didn't sugarcoat it. "I'd feel the same way," she said coldly. "Nobody likes a draw. It's either a win or a loss—there's no in-between. If someone kept up with me like that, I wouldn't sleep right for a week."
The low, throaty braaaap of a supercharged engine cracked the air like a whip. Heads turned.
The Lancia 037 rolled in smoothly, pulling behind the Devil Z like a shark circling the other apex predators. Its guttural idle snarled through the lot, each cylinder firing with a pulse of raw, mechanical aggression. The car looked out of place in a modern world—like a relic pulled from a war it refused to lose.
Clorinde stepped out, cool and composed, the door shutting with a firm thunk. Her boots clicked against the pavement, and as her eyes scanned the group, there was something confident—unshaken—in her posture. She carried the weight of countless battles behind the wheel, and it showed.
"Hey! What's going on here?" she asked, casually, but with that unmistakable tone racers shared—the one that said I'm always ready.
March perked up instantly, waving. "Hey, Clorinde! Not much, really. Just... hanging out."
Clorinde smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth lifting as she leaned briefly against her car. "Good. I just got word about something interesting happening up in Araumi."
That name froze the group like a needle dragged across vinyl. Even Seele shifted.
They gathered around her instinctively—drawn in by something deeper than curiosity. When racers talked about Araumi, it wasn't casual. It was sacred.
Clorinde continued, her voice steady, even. "Ningguang's old rival from last year showed up in a Lancer Evo. She challenged her to a rematch."
Beidou's brow lifted. "A rematch?"
"Yeah." Clorinde nodded. "They've been doing runs since yesterday. Exhibition stuff. No timing, no flags—just raw, pure driving for the sake of it. Old-school."
Seele's expression sharpened. "We should go check it out. Tonight. Or tomorrow."
Nods followed. The scent of burning rubber already seemed to hang in the air. But Clorinde's eyes lingered on one person.
She turned to Collei, her tone soft but pointed. "What about you, Collei? Planning to head up there?"
Collei paused. She hadn't looked anyone in the eye since they arrived. Now she met Clorinde's gaze—and hesitated. Her voice came out lower than usual. "I don't know... I'll think about it."
Clorinde offered a knowing smile, warm but edged with challenge. "Alright. You have my number. Let me know—or have one of your buddies let me know—if you're heading up."
Collei gave a nod. Just a nod. Nothing more.
Clorinde climbed back into the Lancia, its supercharged engine flaring to life like a caged beast. She eased it back onto the road, then disappeared down the highway in a blur of tail lights.
As the growl of the Lancia faded, Amber stepped up beside Collei, her hand landing gently on her shoulder.
"Cheer up, Collei," she said gently. "You should take that offer and show up. Push yourself to the limit out there. You've come this far—don't stop now."
Collei's gaze shifted, not to the Eight Six, but inward—deep into that place where ambition clashed with doubt. Something clicked. Slowly, the shadows lifted from her expression. Her grip tightened. Her jaw set.
"You're right," she said, voice firmer now. "Considering it was a draw, I can always challenge Clorinde to a rematch when the time's right."
Amber grinned, pumping her fist. "That's the spirit! A rematch could be exactly what you need to take the next step."
From the sidelines, Beidou let out a low chuckle. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes said finally.
"Let's go!" she said, standing upright and cracking her knuckles. "Bring your A-game, team. We're heading to Araumi tonight!"
Excitement surged through the lot like the opening beat of a high-RPM launch. The path forward had become clear.
And Collei? She was ready to face it.
Later That Night — Arlecchino's House
The porch light buzzed faintly overhead, casting a warm glow on the Eight Six parked below. The car sat like a sentinel in the dark—its paint dull, its lines modest. But every inch of it radiated history. Wear. Experience.
Lynette stood beside it, fingers grazing the roof. "Still can't believe your daughter's the one behind the wheel of this thing," she said, half to herself. "The way she drives... who knows how long this engine'll hold out. Might already be circling the drain."
Arlecchino took a drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing bright in the dark. She exhaled slowly. "It's only a matter of time," she said flatly.
Lynette leaned against a stack of old crates. "So what's the plan when it happens? You always said you'd do the swap after her first loss. But that draw with the Lancia... it wasn't a win, but it wasn't a loss either. If she keeps winning, that moment might not come."
Arlecchino's red eyes flicked to the car. "When I raced that Lancia's old driver, we never settled anything. Just draw after draw. Every time, we walked away with our heads high... but not satisfied. I didn't expect Collei's streak to last this long." She shrugged. "But I can't force her to lose."
Lynette smirked. "So what's gonna give first—her streak, or the engine?" She gave the hood a gentle tap. "Either way, I'll be ready."
A rare smile ghosted across Arlecchino's lips. "Very good."
Right then, the front door creaked open. Collei stepped out, hoodie half-zipped, keys already twirling around her finger. She walked with intent, not hesitation.
"Hey, Dad?" she asked. "Mind if I take the car? We're heading up to Araumi for practice runs."
Arlecchino tossed the keys without a word.
Collei caught them mid-air. A second later, the Eight Six roared to life, that old 4A-GE engine snarling with defiant spirit. Taillights blinked as she backed out and disappeared into the night.
At Araumi Summit
Near the first major hairpin, the evening air had turned crisp. Cold wind funneled down from the higher ridges. Ningguang and Keqing stood just off the road, surveying the bend.
Then—headlights.
Engines howled as a pack of cars tore through the corner: the white Lancia, the black R32, the Devil Z, a gleaming Supra, and behind them all... that unmistakable white-and-black panda-trueno. The Eight Six.
Keqing's eyes widened. "Did you see that?"
Ningguang nodded slowly, eyes tracking every line of motion. "I did. Looks like Clorinde brought her Yougou friends up for a little warm-up."
Back at the House
The driveway was quiet again.
Lynette sat atop the crates, arms folded as she watched Arlecchino light another cigarette.
"Still can't believe Collei's only eighteen," she muttered.
Arlecchino scoffed. "Big deal. When I was eighteen, I was a million times better."
Lynette laughed. "You'd say that. But when I talked to my brother, he said something interesting. Said Collei's got more talent than you ever did. Exact words: 'Arlecchino's too stubborn to admit her daughter's faster.'"
Arlecchino sneezed. Sniffed. "Typical Lyney," she muttered darkly.
Lynette grinned. "Anyway... when Collei pushes past her limits, that engine won't last. But..."
She leaned forward, serious now.
"You think she'll keep winning—after it blows?"
Arlecchino crushed her cigarette in the ashtray. Her eyes flicked toward the road her daughter had taken.
She didn't answer.
But something in the way the smoke curled from the ashtray said everything.
At the Araumi Parking Lot
The convoy rolled into the mountaintop lot in sequence, headlights cutting through the lingering fog that clung to the edges of the asphalt. One by one, the machines growled to a halt—engines ticking, radiators hissing faintly in the cool mountain air. The 037's mid-engine whine faded to a whisper. The Skyline's deep rumble fell into silence. Seele's Devil Z purred menacingly before cutting off with a clean click of the ignition. Then the Supra. And lastly, the Eight Six, its engine note soft and modest, yet defiant as ever.
Waiting for them was a lone figure, already leaning against her machine like she'd owned the place for years. The Lancer Evolution was unmistakable—an aggressive, jet-black VI RS, its battle-scarred splitter and wide stance making it look like a predator crouched before the hunt. The woman beside it stood tall and relaxed, arms folded, a single boot propped on the curb. Jet-black hair fell over one eye, her expression unreadable save for the ghost of a knowing smirk.
Clorinde stepped forward first, cool and composed as always. She lifted a hand toward the Evo. "Everyone, this is Feixiao. She's from the Mumei Prefecture. She's here for a rematch against Ningguang."
Feixiao pushed off the car with casual grace, her presence immediately shifting—measured but commanding, like a coiled spring under calm surface tension.
She offered a disarming smile, nodding politely. "Pleasure to meet you all. I've heard stories—now I get to put faces to the names."
Beidou gave a low whistle, hands on her hips. "So you're the famous Evo girl."
Feixiao chuckled. "Famous might be pushing it, but sure, I'll take it."
March waved eagerly, practically bouncing in place. "It's awesome to meet another mountain racer!"
Seele's expression stayed guarded, arms crossed but eyes alert, studying Feixiao's posture and the Evo's setup with the sharpness of a wolf sniffing out a rival.
Pela gave a polite nod. "Welcome to Araumi."
Amber extended a hand cheerfully. "Looking forward to the rematch. Heard you gave Ningguang a real fight last year."
Feixiao shook her hand firmly, that same confident glint still in her eyes. "She gave me hell back then. But I've been practicing ever since."
Then, her gaze shifted—and locked straight onto Collei.
"You must be Collei," she said, stepping forward, something sparking behind her eyes. "Nice to finally meet you."
Collei blinked, caught off guard. "Huh? You know me?"
Feixiao gave a light laugh. "Of course I do. Everyone's heard of the Eight Six tearing up Mount Yougou. You're the one nobody can beat."
Collei flushed slightly, unsure how to react. She extended a hand, and Feixiao took it—firm grip, solid eye contact. No mind games. Just mutual respect.
Feixiao's grin widened. "How about an exhibition run? Just you and me. No pressure, no wagers. I've been itching to stretch my legs, and you… you look like someone who could push me to my limit."
Collei hesitated for only half a second. Then she nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing as a quiet excitement rose in her chest. "Sure thing, Feixiao. I could use the practice too."
Feixiao clenched her fists, beaming. "Hell yeah! This is gonna be awesome."
Back at Home
The porch light buzzed softly, casting a sickly orange halo over the concrete below. Arlecchino stood in the doorway, unmoving, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on the empty space where the Eight Six had sat just hours ago. The night air was colder now, the kind that seeped into bones and stirred the kind of memories she'd rather leave buried.
She rubbed her chin absently, the pad of her thumb grazing the edge of her lip. Her brows knit tighter the longer she stared.
That familiar stillness—the kind she knew from the seconds before a race began, or the split moment before a punch was thrown. That charged silence. The world holding its breath.
"Something big is going to happen tonight…" she murmured, not to anyone in particular. Not even to herself. It was just a truth, pulled from the ether.
Her fingers dug into the crook of her arm as if she were anchoring herself to something tangible.
She couldn't explain it. Not fully. But the engine, the races, the way Collei had looked lately—too serious, too driven, like the fire inside was consuming more fuel than the body could handle. She'd seen it before. She'd been there before.
"…Why am I feeling so uneasy all of a sudden?"
The cigarette between her fingers burned itself out. She didn't notice.