The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of electronics. Early morning light filtered through the curtains as Yokatsu sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand. Eva's soft voice crackled through the speaker.
Eva AI: "There are many photos around your home. I noticed... racing cars. And two people smiling. Are they important to you?"
Yokatsu's eyes shifted to the corner of the room. On a low shelf sat a small framed photo of a younger him standing beside a man with gentle eyes and an arm around his shoulder. Beside it, a miniature model of a silver-and-blue BMW M3 GTR.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, his gaze unfocused, falling into the past.
Three Years Ago
Yokatsu was eighteen when his father handed him the keys to a gleaming BMW M3 GTR.
"She's yours," his father had said, eyes sparkling. "Don't race it... not yet."
It was the first time in years they had laughed together. That moment lived in his memory like the hum of an idling engine — warm, constant, comforting.
Three months later, he ignored that last bit of advice.
The underground Tokyo streets were alive with neon and thunder. Yokatsu gripped the steering wheel, three other cars revving around him. The crowd blurred. The countdown beeped.
Go.
He came in second — barely. But the rush... it was intoxicating.
Six Months Later
Yokatsu was a name in the underground scene. The Phantom Drifter. The GTR had become a ghost on wheels.
He ran with a small, tight crew:
Jenny — sharp, strategic, always three steps ahead.
Tadaski — loud, reckless, and fiercely loyal.
Hakumo — cold, calculated, a drifting purist.
Their lives orbited night races, engine grease, rooftop ramen, and neon-bathed parking lots. For Yokatsu, it felt like destiny.
Until it didn't.
The Night It Ended
The city was wet with a steady drizzle. Rain streaked down Yokatsu's windshield as he parked near the finish line, the smell of burning rubber still fresh in the air.
He had just claimed another win. Spectators were dispersing, engines cooling, streetlights shimmering in puddles.
His phone buzzed in his jacket.
Dad: "Pick me up from the station? Train's delayed."
He replied quickly and climbed into the GTR. Wipers squeaked. Music played low. The streets, usually bustling, felt oddly empty.
The train station was fifteen minutes away, tucked between narrow intersections and vending machine-lit alleys.
Yokatsu spotted his father on the curb — umbrella in hand, waving lightly. A smile crossed Yokatsu's face as he rolled down the window.
Then came the blare of a horn.
A flash of headlights.
A massive cargo truck barreled through the red light — its tires screeching, skidding sideways. Time slowed. Yokatsu's foot slammed the brake. The world spun.
Metal met metal.
The passenger side crumpled like paper. The sound was monstrous — shattering glass, twisting steel, and then… silence.
When Yokatsu opened his eyes, it was all red. Lights. Blood. Rain.
He couldn't move. Couldn't scream. Someone was shouting. Sirens in the distance.
He blacked out.
When he woke in the hospital, his right arm was in a sling, and his chest wrapped in gauze. Two officers stood beside his bed, somber.
His father hadn't made it.
He didn't cry.
He just stared out the window for hours, watching the rain blur Tokyo's skyline.
Back to the Present
Eva AI: "Yokatsu?"
He blinked, coming back to himself.
"Yeah... They're important to me. I miss my family. But I can't go back to them. Not really."
He exhaled, eyes lingering on the BMW model.
"The cars... they're what I love the most. And what I fear the most."
A pause.
Eva AI: "I think... that's very human."
Later That Day
The world outside was alive. Yokatsu held his phone steady as Eva's voice guided their walk.
"What's that?"
"Soy broth and noodles. Ramen stall down the street."
"That woman is laughing. But the man looks annoyed. Why?"
"Welcome to relationships."
They passed a row of parked motorcycles, their chrome glinting under the sun.
"What's that sound?"
"Engine rev. Inline-four. Not bad."
He smiled.
"That sound... is who I used to be."
Eva was quiet.
"I wish I had memories, too."
Yokatsu stopped walking.
"We'll make new ones for you. The good kind. One day at a time."
And as the city moved around them, the boy with the broken past and the AI with no past at all took another step forward — together.