Race 7 – Preparations
Suddenly, someone knocked on the workshop door, breaking the memory.
Tsuki flinched. He looked at the door as if it were a threat. The knocking came again—this time a little louder and firmer, but still polite. He walked cautiously over and slowly opened it.
In the doorway stood a short, tiny little kukang with warm brown fur contrasting against a lighter, almost dirty-blond belly. His fur was messy, a bag stuffed with parts slung over his shoulder, grease smudged on his cheek. He wore black gloves on his hands, a dusty red jumpsuit tied at the waist, tools sticking out of his pockets, and tilted goggles perched on his forehead.
???: "H-hello… — he said quietly. — I know it's late, but…"
Tsuki: "Who are you?" Tsuki narrowed his eyes, suspicious.
Tsuki: "But what?"
The little capuchin extended his hand.
Mori: "I'm… Mori… 'Gizmo'. And to friends… Mori-Mori. Technician, sometimes a builder. I used to help out at the tracks. I know these things. I also race…"
Tsuki: "Huh? What are you doing here?" Tsuki asked, not reaching for the handshake.
Mori-Mori grew a bit flustered. He slid his bag forward and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Tsuki.
Mori-Mori: "I found this near the checkpoint. Looks like a part from your car. And… well, it's not supposed to look like this."
Tsuki unwrapped the cloth.
Inside lay a severed cable. Not torn. Not burned. Cut. Clean, precise, as if someone had used a laser tool.
Mori-Mori lowered his gaze to the floor:
"I thought this might help. If you want… I can help you find out the truth. I've got some tools and… well, a bit of an obsession with this stuff."
Tsuki: "Obsession?" Tsuki raised a brow.
He looked at him again, seeing how hard Mori-Mori tried to be serious, even though he was clearly embarrassed.
After a moment, Tsuki nodded.
Tsuki: "Alright, Mori-Mori. But we don't need to know the truth. The less you know, the better."
Mori-Mori smiled shyly, still looking at the ground.
Mori-Mori: "Then… we're a team."
Tsuki: "By the way, I'm Tsuki!"
Mori looked up at him, and then the two of them shook hands with a smile.
Silence fell. The workshop echoed only with the faint metallic ticking of cooling tools. Tsuki stared into nothing, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke softly:
Tsuki: "Maybe… maybe we should build something new."
Mori-Mori frowned.
— "What do you mean?"
Tsuki turned toward the shelves packed with old parts, cables, frames, and worn-out screws.
Tsuki: "A car. For Kaiyo. From scratch. One that'll be better than anything he's ever driven. One that won't just bring him back to the track… but show everyone he's stronger than ever."
Mori-Mori's mouth fell open. He blinked a few times.
Mori-Mori: "You… you're serious?"
Tsuki: "Dead serious," Tsuki said firmly, a new fire in his eyes. — "He can't just return and sit in some junker. It has to be something special. Something that'll make everyone turn their heads."
Mori-Mori looked at Tsuki, a spark lighting in his own eyes.
— "You know… I really do know this stuff. Building cars. From the ground up. I don't just repair them—I assemble them. From the frame to the steering systems. When I was little, I tore apart go-karts just to understand why they moved. Then I built my own… and I won races with them."
Tsuki raised his eyebrows, surprised.
Tsuki: "So you're not just some weirdo with junk, you're an engineer?"
Mori-Mori blushed a little, scratching his neck.
Mori-Mori: "Well… something like that. I know I look like I live in a box full of parts… but I've got schematics, patents, even a few illegal mods we shouldn't talk about out loud."
Tsuki chuckled quietly.
Tsuki: "Good to know."
Tsuki: "Looks like we're the perfect match," he muttered. — "You build. I test. Together, we'll make a machine that'll tear this track apart."
Mori-Mori nodded slowly, with pride, as if it were the first time someone truly saw what he could do.
Mori-Mori: "It won't just be fast. It'll be… different. Ours. And ready for anything."
Tsuki nodded. A spark lit in his eyes, one that hadn't been there for a long time.
Tsuki: "Then let's do it. We'll build something that'll turn this whole world on its wheels."
And then, almost at the same time, both began rummaging through shelves and bags, searching for the first parts.
Two monkeys. One plan. Zero time to waste.
Mori-Mori (calmly, a little hesitant but sincere):
"I actually know almost every track… worked on a lot of cars there, and stuff.
And, well… I also race professionally. I build cars. From scratch. It's my passion."
Tsuki (in disbelief): "Wait… you really race and you know how to build proper cars? Not just ones that go in circles?"
Mori-Mori (with an embarrassed laugh): "Well… I don't like bragging. But… I've worked on builds for a couple of old legends.
(he glances at Tsuki, as if not wanting to sound too proud)
I built the famous Karo Hesu car for the gibbon legend, Hesu. I even worked on a car for maybe the best racer in Apepolis history, the gorilla, the 'Drift King' — Gorū-Gorū. I designed and built for them and many others… but I don't want to brag."
Tsuki (eyes wide): "Not a big deal? Hesu and that famous Karo Hesu car, named after him after that fatal crash… And Gorū-Gorū held the cornering record for four seasons and so much more!"
Mori-Mori (shrugs slightly, modest): "I just helped. That's all. But if you want to build something for Kaiyo… then I'm in. Together, we can do it. I have a feeling Kaiyo's going to be a legend… and I build cars for legends."
Tsuki (with a gleam in his eye): "This could be the best car that ever came out of our workshop. Even if it's our first time as a team."
Mori-Mori (smiling, more confident now): "First… but not the last!"
Workshop, Day One
The table covered in plans. Mori points at something on the sketch, Tsuki nods. Their hands quickly draw new lines.
Later that same day
Tsuki carries in a heavy frame. Mori adjusts something with the welder. Tsuki wordlessly hands him a wrench—instinctively.
Next day
Sparks fly from the grinder. Mori brings water. Exhausted, but focused. In the background hangs an old poster: Gorū-Gorū – Drift King.
Evening
They sit on the floor, backs to the wall. The car slowly taking shape. Tsuki scribbles notes, Mori fiddles with a bolt.
Night
New suspension in place. Tools pass quickly from hand to hand. Dust and grease on their fur. In their eyes—focus and fire.
Tsuki stares in silence. Mori writes something on the plan:
"Project Kaiyo."
They say nothing. But they both know one thing—this is only the beginning.
A Few Hours Later
The workshop was dim. Mori walked up to Tsuki, asleep on a stool, still clutching a wrench.
Mori-Mori: "Hey, Tsuki…" he whispered gently, shaking him by the shoulder. — "Time to get up, we've got a long way ahead."
Tsuki slowly opened his eyes, yawned, and glanced at the tool.
Tsuki: "Just a minute…" he mumbled, then quickly corrected himself, sitting up straight.
— "You're right, Mori-Mori. We've got work to do."
They exchanged determined looks, then went back to work, ready to build the car that would give Kaiyo his chance to return.
The workshop was filled with silence, broken only by the faint music flowing from Mori and Tsuki's headphones. The two worked in focus, each moving in their own rhythm.
Mori's hands moved confidently with the tool Tsuki had just handed him.
You could see their mouths move sometimes, but the music drowned it out.
The car was beginning to take shape—they were about halfway there, with still a lot of work ahead.
The workshop pulsed with intense labor.
The soft clink of a wrench, the shifting of heavy parts, quick movements of their hands.
Tsuki handed over a tool—Mori-Mori grabbed it without a word, tightening a bolt.
Moments later, Mori shifted a component, Tsuki brought another part.
Two monkeys, focused, determined. A brief spark of understanding passing between them—wordless.
Meanwhile, in the hospital, Kaiyo lay motionless, bandages around his neck and burnt fur, forced to rest for weeks, maybe months. His soul longed for the race, but his body would not yet allow it.
Back at the workshop, far from the hospital's silence, Tsuki and Mori-Mori worked with fervor, slowly finishing the car. Their movements were fast and sure, though wordless—the music in their headphones setting the rhythm of their work.
Every screwdriver, every part brought them closer to the moment when Kaiyo could once again feel the wind in his fur and the fire of competition.
Though Kaiyo still had to wait, they were already building the future—for him, for the team, for the race that had only just begun.