Tokyo buzzed with media energy. Cameras clicked, mics hovered, and questions flew like sparks. The paddock had turned into a furnace of flashing lights and quick-fire interviews. It was a chaotic but necessary ritual — part of the theater that surrounded the race weekend.
Drivers, draped in their team uniforms, were ushered from one interview booth to the next like royalty on a press parade.
Sukhman stood tall in his deep navy Vaayu GP jacket, the tricolor flag stitched neatly above his heart. He adjusted the cap on his head — one side slightly tilted, the brim shadowing his eyes. Cool. Composed. But the nerves simmered quietly beneath the surface.
"Mr. Singh! Over here!"
"Sukhman! What are your expectations this season?"
He turned toward the line of reporters with a calm smile. "To go beyond expectations."
Laughter and nods rippled. But the questions didn't let up.
"How does it feel to be back on this track after last year's crash?"
The energy shifted. For a moment, everything around him dulled — the clicking cameras, the shuffling of crew, even the hum of the circuit — it all dropped into a slow, muffled beat. A beat that thudded deep in his chest.
He could still remember it: the blinding flash of the barrier, the metallic scream of bending steel, the feeling of helplessness as the car flipped — and the silence afterward, eerie and endless. They'd pulled him out unconscious. Told him he might not walk the same again.
There was a brief pause. The reporter's mic lingered.
From the corner of his eye, Harinder tensed. In his maroon turban and white team jacket, he looked every bit like a security agent ready to intervene.
Sukhman inhaled, grounding himself in the moment. Then he met the reporter's gaze, his voice steady but touched with something deeper — earned pain, and healing.
"It reminds me of how far I've come. That's all."
Before the reporter could push further, Harinder stepped in with theatrical flair, slipping between Sukhman and the camera crew like a seasoned bodyguard.
"Bas bhai, no trauma mining today. Man just survived a car crash, not a reality show elimination."
Laughter broke the tension, including from Sukhman, whose shoulders eased slightly.
One of the reporters chuckled. "And you are…?"
"I'm the wall between him and inappropriate journalism," Harinder said proudly, flashing his own Vaayu GP badge. "Also, his self-declared manager, security, and snack supervisor. You want answers, you talk to me first. Unless you're offering free samosas. Then we talk business."
The surrounding journalists chuckled, and the energy softened again. Some stepped back, giving Sukhman a little space. Others moved on to lighter topics.
Harinder turned and gave Sukhman a subtle nod.
"You good?" he asked in a low voice.
Sukhman nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."
"Always," Harinder replied, then added with a smirk, "Next time someone asks about the crash, I'm gonna throw glitter in their face and yell 'plot twist.'"
Sukhman laughed for real this time — the kind that pushed away the ghosts.
They continued down the paddock lane together, back into the blur of questions, flashbulbs, and anticipation.
But now, he felt steadier.
Not because the cameras were kinder — but because someone always had his back.
---
The Broadcast Begins
As the sun rose on Qualifying Day, the camera cut to the race broadcast.
On the split-screen, the faces of two commentators appeared.
"Hello and welcome to the 2025 World Grand Prix Championship! I'm Whitney Moore."
"And I'm your truely Jack Simmons! Buckle up, folks. It's time to burn rubber in Tokyo!"
Whitney smiled. "This season begins with 20 drivers from around the world. Some names you'll recognize, others are rising stars."
Jack leaned forward filled with enthusiasm. "Let's run through the lineup, shall we?"
A graphic displayed the drivers:
Callum Graves (UK) - Three-time defending champion.
Jia Tan (China) - Strategic and disciplined.
Erik Holtz (Germany) - A rising threat.
Thiago Martins (Argentina) - Fast and flamboyant.
Amelia Foster (UK) - Cool under pressure.
Dante Rizzo (Italy) - Known for aggressive overtakes.
Diego Montoya (Brazil) - Stylish and daring.
Alain Bellamy (France) - Smooth and consistent.
Finn Carter (New Zealand) - Risk-taker.
Omar Irani (Morocco) - Precision-focused.
Noa Takahashi (Japan) - Local hero.
Lukar Meier (Switzerland) - Best European racer of the year contender.
Sukhman Singh (India) - Returning after injury.
Ravi Deshmukh (India) - Another Indian prodigy. Backed by Tejas Motorsports.
Yuki Sasakai (Japan) - Strong in wet conditions.
Khalid Zidan (UAE) - Fast on straights.
Jonas Frigg (Norway) - Expert in cold tracks.
Miguel Costa (Portugal) - All-rounder.
Charlotte Reid (Australia) - Best Women racer of the year candidate.
Rosa Calderon (Mexico) - Aggressive on corners.
"The top 10 drivers from today's qualifying race will move on to the final race tomorrow," Whitney explained. "Each lap today is a test of nerves and precision."
"And remember folks," Jack added, "the times posted today will decide the grid positions. Fastest gets pole position."
---
Paddock Preparations
The Vaayu GP garage was a whirlwind of focused chaos. Engineers checked tools, updated dashboards, and confirmed fuel loads.
Siddharth stood by a whiteboard with a tire chart.
"Softs for the early laps. Track temp's still rising, but we need the grip upfront," he said, marking the selection. "Then switch to mediums if we hit sector two clean."
Coach Arne crossed his arms. "This isn't about pushing to the edge. It's about controlled aggression. Let the others burn out."
Crew Chief Rajan added, "Sector three's got tight corners. Save your KERS (Kinetic Energy Recovery System, a technology used in Formula 1 to recover and reuse energy that would otherwise be lost during braking) until then. We'll need it for exit speed."
Sukhman listened, nodding. The nerves were gone now. In their place: razor-sharp clarity.
Harinder handed him his gloves. "Just remember, bro. Steering wheel mein haath hai. Magar control tere dimaag mein hai." ("Your hands are on the wheel, but the control's in your mind.")
Sukhman smiled. "Let's put Vaayu GP on the board."
---
To the Grid
Engines roared to life as the 20 drivers rolled out of the paddock and into formation on the Tokyo street circuit. A blur of color and sound filled the screens.
The countdown began.
"Alright, folks, bring some popcorns," Jack said, voice rising. "The qualifying race is about to begin. Hold onto your snacks!"
Whitney kept it composed. "Twenty enter. Ten move forward. The season is about to begin now."
Lights flickered above the starting line.
3... 2... 1...