Clear blue skies.
And a cool, steady wind.
The unmistakable signs that the seasons were beginning to change.
Fall.
With the arrival of the "Ber" months, the last traces of summer slowly began to disappear.
For some countries, September also marked the beginning of the long countdown toward Christmas.
Stores would begin preparing decorations.
Holiday advertisements would slowly appear.
Music would eventually begin filling shopping centers.
But Japan was different.
Not yet.
September was still September.
There were no Christmas decorations hanging from the ceilings.
No Christmas music playing through the shopping centers.
No giant trees being assembled in department stores.
No sudden explosion of red and green decorations everywhere.
For most people, it was simply business as usual.
And for one particular Umamusume at Tracen Academy, September meant something else entirely.
One month.
One month until the Shuka Sho.
The final race of the Triple Tiara.
Two thousand meters.
A right-handed course.
Kyoto Racecourse.
And the final opportunity for King Halo to complete what she had started.
The Japanese Oaks had already given her the second crown.
Now there was only one left.
One more race.
One more victory.
One more step toward cementing herself among the greatest racers of her generation.
But that race was still a month away.
For now...
It was another Saturday at Tracen Academy.
The campus was quieter than it normally was during the school week, but there was still plenty of activity.
Students wandered between buildings.
Some were heading into town.
Others were spending their weekend inside the dormitories.
Some were training.
And others were simply enjoying their free time.
But this particular Saturday had another responsibility attached to it.
Campus cleaning.
The junior students were the ones primarily responsible for cleaning the academy grounds.
They moved around in groups, sweeping walkways, cleaning windows, tending to flowerbeds and making sure the various facilities were presentable.
The senior students, however, had a little more freedom.
Some participated in the cleaning anyway.
Others decided to use the time to clean their dorm rooms.
And then there were those who had something else that needed attention.
Their cars.
At the academy's parking area, several Umamusume had taken advantage of the relatively quiet Saturday morning to give their vehicles some much-needed attention.
Among them was King Halo.
She stood beside her R32 GT-R.
The familiar Kyoseki Group A green paintwork reflected the clear morning sky.
The hood was raised.
And King was working her way through the engine bay.
A microfiber cloth moved carefully across the upper surfaces.
She wiped away dust.
Checked around the edges.
Then folded the cloth over to a clean section before continuing.
The RB26DETT sat in the engine bay, looking every bit like the mechanical heart of the machine it powered.
King wasn't simply wiping the obvious surfaces.
She took her time.
The intake piping.
The surrounding brackets.
The accessible portions of the engine bay.
Even the areas around the strut towers received attention.
She occasionally stopped to inspect her work before continuing.
There was something almost therapeutic about it.
No racing.
No training.
No reporters.
No cameras.
No discussions about the Triple Tiara.
Just her, her car, and a quiet Saturday morning.
King hummed softly to herself as she wiped another section clean.
"Hmm-hmm..."
She glanced over the engine bay.
"Much better."
She moved toward the front of the car and carefully wiped the edge of the radiator support.
The cool wind brushed against her hair.
She paused.
Closed her eyes for a moment.
And took a breath.
The air felt different.
Not cold.
Not yet.
But cooler than it had been only a few weeks earlier.
Summer was beginning to loosen its grip.
King opened her eyes.
"Fall already..."
She looked up at the sky.
Clear blue.
Almost cloudless.
The leaves on the nearby trees rustled softly in the wind.
It was peaceful.
And for once, King wasn't thinking about the next race.
At least...
Not consciously.
A faint metallic sound came from somewhere nearby.
King turned her head.
Parked beside her on the left was Haru Urara's NA Miata.
Its soft top was folded completely down.
Urara was sitting inside the driver's area, cleaning the interior with considerable enthusiasm.
She had one hand holding a cloth while the other reached toward the dashboard.
She wiped across the instrument panel.
Then the center console.
Then the door trim.
She leaned forward to reach a particularly awkward corner.
"Almost..."
She stretched.
"Got it!"
King watched for a few seconds.
Then smiled.
"You're certainly taking your time with that."
Urara turned around.
"King-san!"
She smiled brightly.
"Of course!"
She held up the cloth.
"I want her to be super clean!"
King chuckled.
"She's a Miata, Urara-chan. Not a museum exhibit."
Urara gasped dramatically.
"She deserves to be treated like one!"
King laughed.
"Fair enough."
Urara turned back toward the dashboard and continued wiping.
The little Miata looked almost comically small beside King's R32 GT-R.
Two very different cars.
One was a compact, lightweight roadster built around simplicity and balance.
The other was a legendary Japanese performance machine with a twin-turbocharged inline-six under the hood.
Yet both had something in common.
Their owners cared about them.
A lot.
Urara leaned farther across the cabin.
"King-san!"
"Hm?"
"Do you clean your car this much every Saturday?"
King looked back toward the engine bay.
"Not every Saturday."
She wiped another section.
"Just whenever it needs it."
Urara nodded.
"I think that's what I like about cleaning cars."
King raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Urara smiled.
"It makes you notice all the little things."
King stopped wiping.
She looked toward Urara.
For a moment, she didn't answer.
Then a small smile appeared.
"You're right."
She looked back down at the RB26DETT.
"You start noticing things you wouldn't normally pay attention to."
Urara nodded enthusiastically.
"Exactly!"
She turned back toward the Miata's interior.
"Besides..."
She began wiping the steering wheel.
"I like knowing that when I drive her again, everything is clean."
King smiled.
"That's a good reason."
The two continued working side by side.
The wind passed through the parking area.
Leaves rustled overhead.
The occasional footsteps of students echoed across the pavement.
Somewhere farther across campus, another group of junior students laughed while carrying cleaning equipment.
And for a little while, the upcoming Shuka Sho felt distant.
King Halo continued wiping down her R32's engine bay.
Urara continued cleaning her Miata's interior.
Two friends.
Two very different cars.
And one quiet Saturday morning before the final crown came within reach.
King wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
The sun was beginning to climb higher, and even with the cool autumn breeze moving through the parking lot, the work was starting to make her warm.
She returned to wiping down the edge of the engine bay when Urara's voice suddenly caught her attention.
"Hey, King. I got to ask you something."
King stopped.
She turned her head toward Urara.
"What is it, Urara-chan?"
Urara had finished wiping down the dashboard and was now holding a small battery-powered portable vacuum cleaner.
She hesitated for a moment before asking.
"Do you think a turbo for my Miata would be overkill for a driver like me?"
King blinked.
Her hand froze halfway through another wipe.
She stared at Urara.
Then quietly whispered to herself.
"Urara... wants more power?"
That was certainly unexpected.
King lowered the microfiber towel and placed it carefully on top of the engine, making sure it wouldn't fall into the engine bay.
She closed the hood slightly—not enough to latch it, just enough to keep the work area from being exposed unnecessarily—and walked over toward Urara.
"Well, it depends."
Urara gently closed the driver's door of the Miata.
Click.
The little roadster's cabin was now sealed, although the roof remained completely folded down.
She was still holding the portable vacuum.
"Depends on what?"
"How much power are you thinking of targeting?"
Urara paused.
She looked toward her Miata.
Then back at King.
"I just feel like I'm lacking in overtaking power."
King raised an eyebrow.
"Overtaking power?"
Urara nodded.
"Yeah!"
She pointed toward the road outside the academy.
"If I have to pass a truck or something, sometimes I feel like I have to plan really far ahead."
King folded her arms.
That made more sense.
The NA Miata wasn't a particularly powerful car to begin with. Its greatest strengths were its light weight, balance, steering feel, and simplicity.
It wasn't designed to shove its way past traffic with a mountain of horsepower.
Urara tapped her chin and glanced upward.
"So..."
She looked back at King.
"You think a turbocharger is overkill for someone like me, King-san?"
King shrugged.
"Well, what do you actually want from it?"
She raised one finger.
"Do you want a huge increase in power?"
Urara shook her head.
"Or do you want more power because you want the peace of mind of being able to easily overtake slower cars?"
Urara immediately nodded.
"Yes! Yes!"
She didn't even let King finish.
"That's exactly what I want!"
She raised a finger of her own.
"I don't want something crazy!"
"I just want enough power so that when I press the accelerator, she actually moves faster!"
King chuckled.
"Well, in that case..."
Before she could finish—
"I'd get a supercharger, Urara!"
Both of them turned.
Special Week was walking over from the opposite side of the car park.
Her hands were resting behind her head as she approached, having apparently overheard the conversation from a short distance away.
Urara tilted her head.
"A... supercharger?"
Special Week stopped directly in front of the two of them.
"Yep!"
She raised one finger.
"A turbocharger uses exhaust gases to spin a turbine."
She made a small circular motion with her finger.
"That turbine is connected to a compressor wheel, which forces more air into the engine."
Urara listened intently.
Special Week then crossed her arms.
"While a supercharger works on a similar principle of forcing more air into the engine, it gets its power directly from the engine."
She pointed toward her own AE86 parked nearby.
"Like my Eight-Six."
Urara's eyes moved toward the Levin.
"The supercharger is mechanically driven by the engine, usually through a belt."
She mimicked the motion of a belt moving around pulleys with her hands.
"So when the engine is turning, the supercharger is turning too."
Urara blinked.
"So... there's no waiting?"
"Exactly!"
Special Week grinned.
"That's the big difference."
She raised another finger.
"A turbocharger can have lag."
"Depending on the setup, you have to wait for exhaust flow and turbine speed to build enough boost."
She then pointed at herself.
"But a supercharger gives you boost much more directly."
Urara's eyes widened.
"So it's instant?"
"Almost like a naturally aspirated engine."
Special Week gave a confident nod.
"Especially when you press the accelerator."
Urara imagined it for a moment.
She mimicked pressing an accelerator pedal with her foot.
"So if I floor it..."
"Then the engine responds immediately."
Special Week smiled.
"That's the idea."
King nodded.
"That's the basics of it."
She turned her attention toward Urara's Miata.
"But there's something else to consider."
Urara looked at her.
"What?"
King walked around the front of the little roadster.
"The NA Miata's engine bay."
She glanced beneath the hood.
"Your car is an NA1."
Urara nodded.
King continued.
"Mazda themselves experimented with forced induction on the BP-series engines, and there were factory-backed supercharged applications."
She tapped her chin.
"So a supercharger isn't completely out of the question."
Urara's ears perked up.
"Really?"
"Yes."
King looked at the Miata again.
"If you specifically want a supercharger, you could make a case for one."
Urara's eyes widened.
"How much power would I gain?!"
King looked upward, thinking.
"Depending on the exact engine and configuration..."
She lowered her gaze back toward Urara.
"A factory supercharged setup would be somewhere around the 160-to-180 horsepower range."
Urara's jaw dropped slightly.
"Whoa..."
King continued.
"But that's factory output."
She glanced at Urara's Miata again.
"Your engine isn't exactly stock anymore."
Urara smiled proudly.
"Nope!"
King nodded.
"So with your current setup, if you had a properly engineered supercharger system, supporting fuel system, engine management, cooling, and the right calibration..."
She paused.
"Two hundred fifty horsepower or more isn't necessarily impossible."
Urara's eyes practically lit up.
"Whoaaaa!"
She stepped closer to the Miata.
"Two hundred fifty?!"
"Potentially."
King immediately raised a finger.
"But."
Urara stopped.
King gave her a serious look.
"That's only if you can find a tuner who actually knows what they're doing."
Urara nodded slowly.
"And that's important."
King crossed her arms.
"You don't just bolt a supercharger onto the engine and expect everything to be fine."
She began counting the considerations on her fingers.
"Fuel delivery."
"Engine management."
"Intake temperatures."
"Cooling."
"Belts."
"Pulley sizing."
"Boost pressure."
"And most importantly, tuning."
She lowered her hand.
"If you want the engine to remain reliable, all of those things have to work together."
Urara nodded.
King then exhaled slowly.
"If I were you, though..."
Urara looked at her.
"I'd probably go with a turbocharger instead."
Urara blinked.
"Why?"
"Availability."
King gestured toward the Miata.
"Turbo kits and turbocharger setups are considerably more common for the NA generation than proper supercharger conversions."
Special Week, who had been listening quietly, slightly raised her head.
"Superchargers are rare for Urara's car?"
King nodded.
"Yep."
She turned toward Special Week.
"Turbocharging an NA Miata is a much more established path."
Special Week tapped her chin.
"Hmm..."
King continued.
"That doesn't mean a supercharger can't be done."
She pointed toward the Miata.
"It just means you'll have fewer options, fewer off-the-shelf solutions, and potentially more custom fabrication involved."
Urara looked thoughtful.
"But what about the NB Miata?"
King nodded.
"That's different."
She leaned against the side of the Miata.
"Some higher-performance NB variants had factory-supercharged applications available in certain markets."
Urara nodded slowly.
"So supercharging a Miata isn't completely weird."
"Not at all."
King smiled.
"In fact..."
She suddenly raised another finger.
"I've got another interesting fact about your engine."
Urara immediately leaned closer.
"My engine?"
"Yep."
King nodded.
"The engine family used in your Miata was based on something Mazda had experience with in forced-induction applications long before the MX-5 became what it is today."
Urara's ears perked up.
"R-Really?!"
King nodded.
"Yep."
Urara stared at her Miata with renewed interest.
The little NA suddenly looked very different to her.
Not just a lightweight roadster anymore.
But a machine with plenty of untapped potential.
Urara sighed.
"But..."
King looked at her.
Urara's shoulders dropped.
"I really would like a supercharger, though."
She looked toward the Miata.
"So I can get that instant boost of power when I floor it!"
King blinked.
She wasn't expecting Urara to be so attached to the idea.
"You really want one."
Urara nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes!"
King thought for a moment.
She looked at the Miata.
Then at Urara.
Then back at the Miata.
"Well..."
She scratched the side of her head.
"I've got no clue."
Urara blinked.
"Huh?"
King shrugged.
"I know what you're asking for."
She pointed toward the Miata.
"But I don't personally know anyone who specializes in supercharging an NA1 Miata."
Urara's expression became thoughtful.
King raised a finger.
"But!"
Urara looked at her.
"If you really want one, I'd start by looking through MX-5 forums."
She gestured toward the Miata.
"See if someone has already completed a supercharger conversion on an NA1."
"Look at what parts they used."
"See how they handled the belt drive."
"See what ECU they're running."
"And most importantly, find out what problems they encountered."
Urara nodded.
"Got it, King!"
King smiled.
"And don't just look at the horsepower numbers."
She gave Urara a stern look.
"Look at how the car actually drives."
Urara nodded again.
"Okay!"
Special Week chuckled.
"You two are already planning a whole new build."
Urara smiled.
"Maybe!"
She looked toward her Miata.
"Just a little more power."
King raised an eyebrow.
"That's what everyone says."
Urara giggled.
Special Week laughed.
"Then six months later, they're making twice the power."
Urara looked horrified.
"Twice?!"
King laughed.
"Don't worry, Urara-chan."
She patted Urara lightly on the shoulder.
"Just take it one step at a time."
Special Week turned around.
"Well, I'm going back to my Eight-Six."
She started walking toward her AE86.
"And if you ever want to know anything about superchargers..."
She raised a hand over her shoulder.
"Ask me!"
Urara smiled.
"Thanks, Spe!"
Special Week gave a small wave before continuing across the car park.
Urara watched her go.
Then she looked down at the Miata.
She slowly smiled.
"A supercharged Miata..."
King shook her head with an amused smile.
"You're already thinking about it, aren't you?"
Urara nodded.
"Maybe."
King sighed.
"Of course you are."
Urara laughed.
She opened the driver's door again and climbed back into the Miata.
The portable vacuum was placed on the passenger-side floor.
She reached inside and resumed cleaning the cabin, this time with considerably more enthusiasm.
King returned to her R32.
She picked up the microfiber towel from the top of the engine and resumed wiping the engine bay.
The two continued working.
Urara cleaning her Miata.
King cleaning her GT-R.
Special Week returning to her AE86.
Three very different cars.
Three very different personalities.
And somewhere in the back of Urara's mind...
A small idea had just taken root.
A supercharged NA Miata.
Maybe one day.
Just as King picked up the microfiber towel again, she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.
Tap.
She stopped.
Her ears perked up.
King turned around.
Standing behind her was Maruzensky.
"Oh. Maruzen-san."
Maruzensky laughed, taking a small step backward.
"King! Are you free later?"
King nodded.
"Sure."
She placed the microfiber towel back on top of the engine and lowered her arms.
"What's going on?"
Maruzensky's smile widened.
She winked.
"You know what's going on!"
King blinked.
"Do I?"
"My Countach is coming back later!"
King's eyes widened.
"No kidding?"
Maruzensky nodded enthusiastically.
"Yep!"
She placed both hands on her hips.
"She's finally coming home!"
King smiled.
"That's good to hear."
The Countach had been out of commission for quite some time after the engine failure.
For Maruzensky, having her beloved Countach back wasn't simply about getting a car repaired.
It was about getting part of her life back.
"So who's coming?" King asked.
Maruzensky began counting on her fingers.
"Chiyono O, C.B, Gentil, Vodka, and Daiwa."
King nodded.
"That's quite a group."
She paused.
"And Rudolf?"
Maruzensky shook her head.
"Busy preparing for the Shuka Sho."
She shrugged.
"Finding accommodations and whatnot."
King understood immediately.
The final Triple Tiara race wasn't far away now.
There were plenty of logistical things that needed to be handled before race day.
"Sure thing, Maruzen."
Maruzensky's smile widened even further.
She raised both thumbs.
"Alrighty, King!"
"We leave in half an hour!"
King nodded.
"Sure thing, Maruzen."
Maruzensky winked.
"See you then!"
She turned on her heel and walked away, her steps light and energetic.
King watched her disappear around the next corner of the parking area.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Then Urara approached from King's right.
She had apparently finished cleaning the Miata's interior.
Urara looked toward the corner where Maruzensky had disappeared.
Then back at King.
"What was that all about, King-san?"
King shrugged her shoulders and exhaled slowly.
"Nothing much."
She glanced toward her R32.
"Maruzen invited me and a couple of the others for a cruise after we pick up her car from the shop."
Urara's ears perked up.
"Maruzen-san's car is fixed already?"
King nodded slightly.
"Apparently so."
She looked at Urara.
"You planning on coming along?"
Urara shook her head.
"Nope!"
She smiled.
"I've got plans with Rice-chan later."
King nodded silently.
"Alright."
She turned away.
The morning's cleaning was finished.
King walked toward the front of her R32.
She reached up and carefully removed the microfiber towel from the engine bay.
Before closing the hood, she gave the engine bay one last inspection.
Everything looked clean.
Nothing had been left where it shouldn't be.
She then reached for the hood prop.
With one hand holding the hood steady, she released the prop from its mounting point and lowered it carefully into its storage position.
Once the prop was secured, King brought the hood down slowly.
The metal descended with a muted movement before settling into place.
She pressed lightly near the latch.
Click.
The hood locked securely.
King then used the microfiber towel to wipe her hands one final time.
She looked toward Urara.
"I'll talk to you soon, Urara."
Her expression softened.
"Stay safe, alright?"
Urara nodded.
"Alrighty, King!"
She smiled brightly.
"See you later!"
The two stood there for a moment.
Then Urara stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around King.
King's eyes widened slightly.
"Urara..."
But her expression softened almost immediately.
She returned the hug.
Her hands rested gently against Urara's shoulders as the two remained like that for several seconds.
Neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
Eventually, Urara loosened her grip.
King gave her shoulders a gentle rub before they finally parted.
"Take care."
"You too, King-san."
Urara headed back toward the Miata.
King watched her for a moment.
Then turned toward the academy building.
She left the parking lot behind and walked through the entrance of the dormitory building.
The familiar warmth of the interior surrounded her.
Her footsteps echoed faintly through the hallway as she made her way toward the staircase.
One floor.
Then another.
She continued upward until she reached the third floor.
The hallway was relatively quiet.
Most students were either outside enjoying the weekend or spending their time in their rooms.
King eventually reached her dorm room.
She took out her key.
Inserted it into the lock.
Turned it.
Click.
She pushed the door open.
Then stepped inside.
She closed the door behind her.
Click.
Silence.
King didn't bother doing anything else.
She walked straight toward her bed.
Then sat down on the edge.
Her shoulders dropped.
She closed her eyes.
And took a deep breath.
Slowly...
She inhaled.
Held it for a moment.
Then exhaled through her mouth.
The tension in her body seemed to leave with it.
Or perhaps...
The stress.
King remained there for a few seconds.
Then slowly opened her eyes.
She looked around the room.
Everything was familiar.
Her belongings.
Her bed.
Her desk.
Her wardrobe.
The quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
King slowly lay down.
Her head rested against the pillow.
Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
For several moments, she simply stared.
Then, quietly, she spoke to herself.
"Can this final race be the end of what I'm seeking for?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
There was no one around to answer.
King slowly pushed herself back into a sitting position.
She slouched slightly.
Her hands rested against her lap.
Then her eyes moved toward the window.
The afternoon light spilled through the glass.
Beyond it, the campus continued as normal.
Students walking.
Cars moving through the distant roads.
Trees swaying gently in the autumn breeze.
Life continuing.
King stared at the horizon.
"After this race..."
She paused.
"I'm transferring to the Dream Trophy League."
The words felt strangely heavy when she said them aloud.
King stood up.
She walked toward the window.
Her hands slipped into her pockets.
She stared outside.
"After this race..."
She repeated herself.
"It just doesn't make sense to keep racing."
Her reflection stared back at her through the glass.
For a moment, she barely recognized the expression on her own face.
There was no arrogance.
No confident smirk.
No high-and-mighty attitude.
Just exhaustion.
King lowered her eyes.
"I've achieved so much already."
A faint smile appeared.
She gave a quiet chuckle.
"It's a miracle I can still race as well as I did three years ago..."
Her smile grew slightly.
"Hell..."
She shook her head.
"Even two years ago, during my Triple Crown campaign."
She remembered the races.
The pressure.
The expectations.
The victories.
The defeats.
The endless training.
The cameras.
The crowds.
The cheers.
The criticism.
The comparisons.
And her mother.
Always her mother.
King slowly raised her head.
"I've achieved everything I can do."
Her voice was firmer now.
"And I've inspired a whole new generation of Umamusume."
She looked toward the distant campus grounds.
The younger students.
The ones who would eventually take their places at the starting gates.
The ones who would grow up watching the current generation.
The ones who would one day become the names everyone talked about.
King smiled.
Perhaps that was enough.
Perhaps that was what a career was supposed to become in the end.
Not simply how many trophies you collected.
Not simply how many records you broke.
But what you left behind.
King's smile slowly faded.
She lowered her head.
"It's time..."
Her voice became quieter.
"...to let the next generation take the helm."
She remained by the window.
Still.
Silent.
Watching the world outside.
For the first time in years, King Halo wasn't thinking about how far ahead she could go.
She was thinking about when to stop.
And somehow...
That thought frightened her more than any starting gate ever had.
Time continued onward.
And, as it always did, business continued as usual.
The hours passed.
The sun slowly began its descent toward the horizon, bathing the academy grounds in the warm golden light of late afternoon.
By the time King made her way back toward the parking area, the campus had become noticeably quieter.
Most of the students who had spent the afternoon cleaning had already finished.
The junior students had returned their cleaning equipment.
Cars had been started and moved around.
And the parking area was once again becoming active.
King walked with both hands in her pockets.
Her footsteps carried her across the pavement.
She looked ahead.
A group of familiar Umamusume had gathered near the back of C.B.'s Lanzante 930 TAG Turbo.
Maruzensky.
Chiyono O.
Mr. C.B.
Gentildonna.
Vodka.
Daiwa Scarlet.
And tagging along with them was Special Week.
Special Week had just finished talking to Vodka when King approached.
She gave a small bow.
"Thank you for letting me ride with you, Vodka-san!"
Vodka waved her hand dismissively with a grin.
"Don't worry about it, Spe!"
She chuckled.
"Glad for you to join in on the fun!"
Special Week nodded enthusiastically.
"That's right!"
She scratched her cheek.
"Although..."
She glanced toward the collection of cars around them.
"My car isn't as fast as all of your cars."
King approached from behind.
She placed a hand on Special Week's shoulder.
"Your car may not be as fast..."
Special Week looked up.
King smiled.
"...but you can take corners like nobody else, Spe."
Special Week looked toward King.
Then her ears perked up.
She nodded.
"That's right, King-chan!"
She gave a confident grin.
"My Eight-Six may not have the biggest engine here..."
She glanced toward the others.
"...but I know how to drive it!"
"That's the spirit."
King gave her shoulder a light pat before stepping closer to the group.
Just behind them, Gentildonna was leaning against the rear quarter of C.B.'s Lanzante 930 TAG Turbo.
Her arms were crossed.
She glanced toward C.B.
"Why not let me drive, C.B.?"
C.B. immediately scoffed.
"You?"
She pointed at Gentildonna.
"Drive my car?"
Gentildonna shrugged.
"Why not?"
C.B. stared at her for a moment.
Then she raised an eyebrow.
"Should I remind you about that one time you were invited to Tsuchiya-san's show?"
Gentildonna's expression immediately changed.
C.B. grinned.
"The one where they were teaching you how to drift?"
Gentildonna remained silent.
C.B. lifted one hand and mimicked pulling an imaginary handbrake.
"And then you yanked the e-brake so hard..."
She made a snapping motion with her wrist.
"...that you actually snapped the handbrake mechanism?"
Gentildonna's eyes narrowed slightly.
C.B. wasn't finished.
"Or..."
She pointed downward.
"That time you snapped the brake pedal?"
Gentildonna blinked.
C.B. spread her hands.
"Like, literally snapped it right off the mounting?"
Vodka burst out laughing.
Daiwa covered her mouth, trying not to laugh herself.
Special Week's eyes widened.
"She actually did that?!"
C.B. nodded.
"Yep."
She looked back at Gentildonna.
"No wonder you need a car with a floor-mounted pedal assembly like your LFA."
Gentildonna sighed.
She glanced down at her own hands.
"...Fair."
C.B. shook her head with a grin.
"Do you ever get annoyed at how strong you are, Gentil?"
Gentildonna thought about it.
"Kinda?"
She shrugged.
"I don't know."
C.B. chuckled.
"I think it's time you slightly lessen your strength, Gentil."
Gentildonna looked at her.
C.B. spread her arms wide.
"Besides..."
She looked around at everyone.
"We're not in the Twinkle Series anymore."
Her arms slowly fell back to her sides.
"That's one of the perks of being in the Dream Trophy League."
She looked directly at Gentildonna.
"We race for fun now!"
Gentildonna nodded.
"Fair point."
C.B. smiled.
"Exactly."
The atmosphere around the group was relaxed.
There was no pressure.
No upcoming race they needed to win.
No championship points.
No reporters waiting for quotes.
Just friends.
Cars.
And a Saturday evening drive through Tokyo.
Maruzensky looked over the group.
She stood near the front of her red Countach, her hands resting on her hips.
"Ready to roll, everyone?"
The others looked toward her.
One by one, they nodded.
Maruzensky winked.
"Then let's head out for Tokyo!"
Chiyono O immediately turned toward her red Aventador SVJ.
She reached for the driver's-side door handle.
With a smooth motion, she lifted the scissor door upward.
The door rose above her head and locked into its open position.
Chiyono O climbed inside.
The low seating position of the Aventador made the movement look almost like she was lowering herself into a cockpit.
Meanwhile, Vodka and Daiwa exchanged glances.
Then both looked toward King.
Daiwa pointed a thumb behind her.
"Need a lift, King?"
Vodka nodded.
"We've got a seat free beside Spe in the back."
King looked over her shoulder.
Her R32 was sitting exactly where she had left it.
Clean.
Polished.
Ready to go.
Then she looked toward Vodka's Charger.
She shrugged.
"Eh."
She paused.
"Why the heck not?"
Vodka pumped a fist.
"Alright, King!"
King walked over with Daiwa and Special Week toward the passenger side of the Charger.
Vodka headed around toward the driver's side.
Daiwa reached inside and grabbed the seat-recline lever.
She pulled it upward.
The front passenger seat tilted forward, opening access to the rear.
Special Week climbed inside first.
"Excuse me..."
She carefully stepped into the rear compartment.
King followed.
She ducked her head slightly as she climbed in.
Daiwa then grabbed the seatback.
With a firm push, she returned the front passenger seat to its upright position.
Thud.
The seat locked into place.
Daiwa climbed in afterward.
Vodka settled into the driver's seat.
She adjusted herself behind the wheel before pulling her racing harness across her torso.
Click.
She secured the buckle and gave the straps a quick tug to make sure they were properly seated.
Daiwa, meanwhile, had only the lap belt available for her position.
She buckled it and settled back.
In the rear...
King looked around.
She leaned forward slightly.
Then stopped.
"Uh..."
She looked at Vodka.
Then Daiwa.
Then back toward the interior.
Her expression slowly changed.
"There are no seatbelts back here."
Vodka nodded.
"I know."
She looked over her shoulder.
"I never really intended for anyone to sit in the back most of the time."
King's jaw dropped slightly.
"Most of the time?"
Daiwa chuckled.
"Just hold onto something in the back."
King slowly leaned back against the seat.
Then she looked toward Special Week.
"I think Spe holding onto me is going to be the seatbelt instead."
Special Week immediately nodded.
"That's not a bad idea!"
King's eyes widened.
"No."
Special Week blinked.
"No?"
King shook her head.
"Absolutely not."
Vodka started laughing.
Then she turned the key.
The Charger came alive.
The American V8 erupted through the exhaust with a deep, aggressive roar.
Rumble.
Rumble-rumble.
Then—
BRRRAAAAAAAM!
The sound filled the parking area.
King immediately waved both hands dismissively.
"No way, Spe!"
She shook her head.
"Absolutely not!"
Special Week laughed.
"Okay, okay!"
Vodka grinned from behind the wheel.
"Everyone ready?"
Chiyono O's Aventador fired up first.
Then C.B. started the TAG Turbo.
The flat-six roared to life behind the rear seats.
Finally, Vodka eased the Charger into gear.
The convoy began moving.
Chiyono O took the lead.
The red Aventador rolled out of the parking area first, its scissor doors now closed and its rear exhausts giving a brief bark as she accelerated away.
C.B. followed.
Gentildonna was with her.
Then came Vodka's fully loaded Charger.
Vodka at the wheel.
Daiwa beside her.
King and Special Week in the back.
The three cars exited the academy grounds.
The streets of Fuchu were relatively empty at this hour.
The convoy maintained a relaxed pace as they moved through the city.
The Charger rumbled along behind the two Italian cars.
King sat in the rear, one hand braced against the seat as the car went over a small road imperfection.
She glanced out the window.
The scenery slowly changed.
Residential streets gave way to larger roads.
The traffic increased.
Then the group reached the highways leading toward Tokyo.
Vodka smoothly accelerated onto the on-ramp.
The Charger squatted slightly at the rear as the V8 climbed through the rev range.
King could feel the change in the engine note.
The low rumble became a stronger, deeper roar.
Special Week looked out the window.
"Wow..."
She smiled.
"I haven't been in the back of this car before."
King glanced at her.
"Enjoy it while you can."
Special Week laughed.
The convoy continued toward Tokyo.
As daylight faded, the first city lights began flickering on.
Streetlights illuminated the roads.
Buildings became silhouettes against the deepening evening sky.
Traffic lights reflected across windshields.
The city gradually transformed from an ordinary Saturday afternoon into the glowing landscape of Tokyo at night.
Eventually, the convoy left the main highway.
They followed the familiar roads toward the waterfront.
King looked ahead.
She recognized where they were going.
Then she heard Maruzensky's voice over the phone.
"Almost there!"
Vodka smiled.
"Nice!"
The convoy continued onward.
And soon...
They arrived at a place all of them knew very well.
Daikoku.
Not the Daikoku PA.
But Daikoku Futo itself.
The massive artificial island and logistics hub sitting within Yokohama's port area.
Container terminals.
Industrial facilities.
Freight roads.
Warehouses.
Cranes.
And the countless lights of the port stretching into the night.
The familiar waterfront atmosphere surrounded them.
For the group, however, this wasn't simply another industrial area.
It was somewhere they could relax.
Somewhere they could gather.
Somewhere where cars from all walks of life could eventually find themselves sharing the same stretch of pavement.
Maruzensky's Countach led the convoy deeper into the port area.
The Aventador followed.
C.B.'s TAG Turbo came next.
And behind them, Vodka's Charger rumbled along with four passengers inside.
King looked out through the window.
The lights of Daikoku reflected across the glass.
She smiled faintly.
For tonight...
There were no races.
No records.
No expectations.
Just cars, friends, and the open road.
The trio continued down the industrial road, the sound of their engines echoing between rows of concrete buildings and warehouses.
Parked along the curbside were trucks of all sizes. Some were box trucks, while others were larger freight carriers, their trailers sitting idle as their drivers took their breaks or waited for their next assignments.
Big warehouses surrounded the area on both sides.
Tall fences separated loading yards from the road, with stacks of pallets, shipping containers, and industrial equipment visible behind them.
It was the typical sight of a port.
Or an industrial district.
There was nothing particularly glamorous about it.
But for people who loved cars, there was always something interesting hiding somewhere.
The convoy eventually turned onto a smaller road.
Then—
Chiyono O slowed the Aventador.
C.B. followed behind her in the Lanzante 930 TAG Turbo, with Gentildonna riding alongside her.
Vodka brought the Charger to a stop behind them.
One by one, the cars came to a halt in a single-file line outside a fairly small shop.
The engines gradually fell silent.
The Aventador's V12 quieted first.
Then came the sharp mechanical note of the TAG Turbo as C.B. switched it off.
Finally, the deep rumble of the Charger disappeared, leaving the industrial district strangely quiet.
Doors opened.
The group stepped out and gathered around.
King stretched slightly as she looked around.
Apart from the rows of warehouses and a few small offices scattered throughout the area, there wasn't much to see.
It looked like the kind of place most people would simply drive past without giving it a second thought.
But then King noticed the cars parked outside the shop.
Her eyes immediately narrowed.
She knew these cars.
Actually—
All of them knew these cars.
They were the kinds of cars they would regularly see parked around the campus dormitory parking area.
A first-generation, pre-facelift Lamborghini Gallardo sat silently near a section of wired fencing.
It was finished in white.
King immediately recognized the shape.
It was similar to Nice Nature's Gallardo Superleggera.
But sitting beside it was something that caught even more attention.
A Ferrari F355.
Scuderia Rosso paint.
Silver HRE wheels.
King's eyes widened slightly.
It looked remarkably similar to Sirius Symboli's F355 Berlinetta.
Chiyono O immediately noticed it too.
She began walking toward the Ferrari.
Maruzensky followed, curious about what had caught her attention.
Chiyono O stopped beside the F355 and looked over the car from front to rear.
Then she turned toward Maruzensky.
"This is the same F355 I saw in that sale listing years ago."
Maruzensky blinked.
"Really?"
She walked over toward Chiyono O, looking at the Ferrari herself.
Chiyono O nodded, keeping her eyes on the car.
"Yeah."
"Same wheels. Same color."
She stepped closer to the rear of the car and looked at the license plate holder.
Her expression changed slightly.
"No plate number, though."
Maruzensky walked around toward the driver's side door and leaned down slightly, peeking through the window.
The interior was still visible despite the reflection on the glass.
She studied the seats, dashboard, steering wheel, and the rest of the cabin.
"This is a pretty neat build."
Chiyono O nodded, slipping her hands into her pants pockets.
"The F355 was my original choice, ya know."
Maruzensky's ears immediately perked up.
She turned her head toward Chiyono O.
"No shit?"
Chiyono O nodded.
"No kidding."
She chuckled.
"I was actually pretty serious about getting one."
Her eyes returned to the Ferrari.
"Then I remembered Sirius-san owned one."
Maruzensky's expression softened into understanding.
She stood back up straight and nodded once.
"Ah."
Chiyono O smiled faintly.
"Yeah."
For a moment, she simply stared at the F355.
It was funny how a car could sometimes remind someone of a decision they had almost made years ago.
Different person.
Different circumstances.
Same car.
She finally turned away.
"Anyways. Come on!"
Maruzensky looked over.
Chiyono O was already walking toward the open garage door.
"You have to check out this build now!"
Maruzensky's eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Now that's more like it."
C.B. laughed from behind them.
"She's hooked."
Gentildonna crossed her arms.
"She was hooked the moment she saw the Ferrari."
Maruzensky glanced back at them.
"Can you blame me?"
She then hurried after Chiyono O toward the garage.
Chiyono O sighed.
And smiled.
"Here we go."
Chiyono O walked back over to the others as Maruzensky continued toward the open garage door.
Special Week chuckled and leaned close to Chiyono O.
She lowered her voice and whispered.
"She's like a kid in a candy store."
Chiyono O nodded.
"She couldn't sleep at all last night, Spe."
Vodka chuckled.
"You two."
She shook her head.
"Of course. If you were in the position of getting something you've been looking forward to, you'd probably fail to sleep too."
Daiwa Scarlet then butted in, her arms crossed.
"Or you will think about it all night."
Vodka immediately snapped back at her.
"That's just the same thing as failing to sleep!"
Daiwa Scarlet shot back.
"You weren't specific about why you can't sleep!"
"That's the number one reason why people fail to sleep, Daiwa!"
Vodka talked back, clearly unwilling to let the argument go.
King sighed and shook her head.
"These two..."
C.B. laughed.
She then walked between the two and placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"You two! Relax!"
Daiwa and Vodka both looked at her.
C.B. grinned.
"We're here to look at cars, not start another argument."
Vodka folded her arms.
"She started it."
Daiwa immediately pointed at her.
"You started it!"
C.B. sighed.
"See?"
King covered her face with one hand.
"Unbelievable."
Meanwhile, the sound of footsteps came from the garage.
Maruzensky stepped back outside.
But this time, she wasn't alone.
Someone was walking beside her.
A man who looked to be in his middle years, dressed casually for a day spent working around cars. His hands showed the faint signs of someone who spent far more time working on engines than sitting behind a desk.
Maruzensky smiled as she approached the group.
"Everyone!"
The conversations immediately stopped.
The group turned toward her.
Maruzensky stepped slightly to the side and opened a palm toward the man beside her.
"This is my tuner."
She smiled proudly.
"Matteo. He's actually from Italy."
Matteo raised one hand.
"Ciao, everyone!"
The group greeted him in return.
Maruzensky's hand fell back to her side.
"He's been the one tuning, fixing, and modifying my Countach for a while now."
Matteo nodded.
"I knew Maruzensky thanks to her father."
He glanced briefly toward the Countach inside the garage.
"And my father was the one tuning her father's cars decades ago."
Gentildonna bowed slightly.
"So you specialize in Italian cars?"
Matteo nodded.
"Lamborghini and Ferrari, mostly."
He then turned his back toward the group and walked back toward the red Countach.
Everyone followed.
Matteo stopped beside the car.
"This is it, everyone."
He gestured toward the Countach.
"Version Two of Maruzensky's Twin Turbo Countach."
Special Week's eyes immediately sparkled.
"Whoaaaaa!"
She stepped closer.
"So shiny! So clean!"
Matteo nodded.
"Part of the work we've done."
He ran a hand lightly along the Countach's bodywork.
"We touched up the car, cleaned everything up, repaired the scratches and small dings accumulated from daily driving, then had the entire car buffed and detailed."
He stepped back.
"The bodywork has been brought back as close to its original condition as possible."
Maruzensky smiled.
She clearly couldn't stop looking at her car.
Matteo then moved toward the rear.
"And just like what Maruzen-chan mentioned, we built the engine for high power output."
He pointed toward the Countach's suspension.
"And the suspension is inspired by Walter Wolf's Countach."
King's attention immediately shifted toward him.
Matteo walked up to the rear quarter panel and reached underneath the edge of the engine hatch.
He lifted it.
The hinges moved with a solid mechanical sound.
The rear-mounted V12 was revealed.
Everyone leaned closer.
Maruzensky remained slightly behind them, allowing Matteo to explain the work himself.
Matteo continued.
"The engine was completely cleaned up."
He pointed toward different areas of the engine bay.
"All of the worn components have been replaced."
He paused.
"This time, the internals are all forged."
King's ears perked up.
"But they're still built to the original Lamborghini specifications where possible."
Matteo nodded.
"We wanted the engine to remain true to what Lamborghini intended."
He then smiled.
"But we also built it with some inspiration from eighties Formula One."
King leaned closer.
Her eyes scanned the engine bay.
"How much power are we talking about, Matteo-san?"
Matteo didn't hesitate.
"From six hundred forty-eight horsepower..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"We are now able to bring it up to eight hundred seventy-six."
Audible whoas and whistles immediately came from the group.
Special Week's mouth fell open.
"Eight hundred and seventy-six?!"
Daiwa Scarlet raised her eyebrows.
"That's quite a jump."
C.B. let out a low whistle.
"That's not just a tune-up."
Matteo chuckled.
"No."
He continued.
"Peak power is at seven thousand two hundred RPM, with peak torque at six thousand six hundred."
Chiyono O raised a finger.
"Wait, Matte-san."
She looked at him.
"Isn't the Countach redline around eight thousand?"
Matteo smirked.
"Not anymore."
He pushed himself slightly away from the Countach, taking a step back.
"The engine revs up to nine thousand now."
Chiyono O's eyes widened.
"Nine thousand?!"
Matteo nodded.
The group collectively took another step back.
Even King looked impressed.
Matteo continued.
"Not only that."
He gestured toward the drivetrain.
"We customized all five gear ratios for optimal shifting points around the peak torque and peak power ranges."
He then raised one finger.
"And then, for a bit more extra power..."
He paused.
Then winked.
"And noise."
His gaze dropped toward the rear of the Countach.
"We installed a Kreissieg exhaust system."
He emphasized the name as though he knew exactly what kind of reaction it would get.
"We requested a custom fabrication to retain the stock quad-tailpipe appearance."
Special Week immediately looked toward the exhaust.
"So it still looks original?"
"Exactly."
Matteo smiled.
"From the outside, it retains the character of the original Countach."
He pointed toward the exhaust outlets.
"But when you open the throttle..."
He gave a knowing smile.
"You'll know."
C.B. looked toward Maruzensky.
"You beloved Ta-chan is back to peak glory."
She grinned.
"Maybe even beyond."
Gentildonna nodded.
"You went ten-tenths on Version Two."
Daiwa Scarlet wagged a finger.
"No."
Everyone looked at her.
Daiwa corrected herself.
"Maruzen-san went ten-tenths."
Maruzensky laughed.
"Thank you all!"
She placed a hand on her hip and looked proudly at the Countach.
"The dream build is finally complete."
Special Week raised a hand.
"Say, Maruzen-san?"
Maruzensky turned toward her.
"Hm?"
Special Week tapped her chin.
"Why Walter Wolf?"
She tilted her head.
"What is so special about it, anyway?"
Maruzensky looked toward Matteo.
Matteo blinked.
He looked at Maruzensky.
Then back at Special Week.
"Want me to... uh..."
Maruzensky shook her head.
"No need."
She turned toward Special Week.
"Because the Walter Wolf build is something special from my childhood."
Her expression became a little more nostalgic.
"Of course, I technically can't get one."
She glanced back toward the Countach.
"It's way more valuable than the Twin Turbo Countachs out there."
Special Week nodded slowly.
"And..."
Maruzensky's voice became quieter.
She lowered her head slightly.
Then looked back toward the group.
"Of my bloodline."
Special Week tilted her head.
"Bloodline?"
Maruzensky nodded.
"I am Japanese-American-Canadian."
Special Week suddenly jumped.
"Ehhhh?!"
She pointed at Maruzensky.
"You are Japanese-American-Canadian?!"
Maruzensky nodded.
"My mom is American."
"My dad is Canadian."
She shrugged slightly.
"Technically, I'm more on the American side."
"But the Canadian blood is still there, anyways."
The group listened quietly.
Maruzensky sighed.
"That..."
She looked down for a moment.
"Is also the reason why I can't participate in the Derby..."
The atmosphere changed.
The smiles disappeared.
Everyone became quiet.
King looked at Maruzensky.
Special Week's ears lowered slightly.
Even Vodka and Daiwa stopped bickering.
Maruzensky noticed the sudden silence.
She shook her head.
"Never mind that."
She forced a small smile.
"That's a story for another time."
Nobody pressed her.
Maruzensky then turned back toward Matteo.
She reached out and shook his hand.
"Hey. Grazie, Matte."
She smiled.
"Appreciate all these years of partnership."
Matteo nodded warmly.
"Grazie mille, Maruzen-san."
He gave her hand a firm shake.
"May our partnership continue for many more years to come."
Maruzensky released his hand.
She looked toward the Countach.
"I test-drove it before you all came."
She grinned.
"She's all warmed up and ready to go."
Maruzensky nodded.
"Thanks!"
She began walking toward the Countach.
Then Matteo raised a hand.
"Hey, Maruzensky!"
Maruzensky stopped.
She looked over her shoulder.
"Matte-san?"
Matteo pointed toward the Countach.
"Take it easy for the first few hundred kilometers, okay?"
His expression became more serious.
"No hard driving on the Shuto Expressway for the next three or so weeks."
Maruzensky's ears drooped slightly.
"Just have a nice, gentle drive, okay?"
Maruzensky pouted.
"Aww, come on!"
She crossed her arms.
"I thought it's all good now!"
Matteo nodded.
"Yes."
"It's all good now."
"But the clutch, transmission, and suspension bushings still need to be broken in first."
Maruzensky's expression immediately changed.
She snapped her fingers.
"Ah!"
She winked.
"Gotcha!"
Matteo sighed with a smile.
"Good."
"I know you."
"That's why I'm telling you now."
Maruzensky laughed.
"You know me too well."
She approached the driver's side scissor door.
Her hand reached underneath the door.
She pulled it upward.
The door rose vertically, revealing the driver's seat and the Countach's interior.
King approached her.
"Hey, Maruzen-san?"
Maruzensky looked over.
"Yeah?"
King glanced into the passenger compartment.
"May I ride with you heading back?"
Maruzensky smiled.
"Of course!"
"I appreciate all the company!"
King nodded.
"Thanks."
She walked around toward the passenger side.
Maruzensky settled herself into the driver's seat.
She adjusted herself against the seat and looked over toward Matteo.
"I'll keep in touch, Matte!"
Matteo nodded.
"Alright, Maruzensky."
"Keep safe, okay?"
Maruzensky nodded.
"You got it!"
She reached up and pulled the scissor door down.
The door closed with a solid thud.
King opened the passenger-side door and climbed inside.
The interior smelled faintly of leather, fuel, warm mechanical components, and the lingering scent of an engine that had just finished being tested.
She settled into the passenger seat.
The rest of the group began returning to their respective cars.
Special Week chose to ride with Chiyono O this time.
C.B. and Gentildonna returned to the TAG Turbo.
Vodka and Daiwa climbed back into the Charger.
King reached across herself and pulled the shoulder portion of her four-point harness into position.
She brought the buckle together with the lap straps and clicked it securely into place.
She tugged on the harness once.
Tight.
Secure.
Then she settled back into the seat.
Maruzensky looked over the dashboard.
She inserted the key into the ignition.
The key turned.
The electrical systems came alive.
Then—
She twisted it farther.
Ignition.
The Countach's starter engaged.
The engine cranked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then—
VRRRAAAAMM!
The V12 fired to life.
The entire car seemed to come alive beneath them.
A faint puff of blue smoke escaped from the quad exhausts.
King glanced toward the rear.
Matteo had already explained what it was.
A newly rebuilt engine could burn off small amounts of oil left from assembly and lubrication during the rebuilding process.
Nothing alarming.
Just another sign that the engine was beginning its next life.
The Countach settled into its idle.
It sounded deeper than before.
More mechanical.
More purposeful.
Maruzensky reached down and buckled her own four-point harness.
She checked the straps.
Then she slowly ran her hand across the steering wheel.
Her fingers rested there for a moment.
She smiled.
"Back in my loving arms."
King nodded.
"It sure is nice to have your iconic car back, Maruzen."
Maruzensky looked at her.
Then winked.
"You know it!"
Outside, the rest of the convoy began moving.
Chiyono O's Aventador slowly pulled away first.
The TAG Turbo followed.
Then the Charger.
Maruzensky watched them move ahead.
She placed her left foot on the clutch.
Her right hand moved to the gear lever.
First gear.
She eased the shifter into position.
Her right foot gently pressed the accelerator.
The Countach began to roll.
She slowly released the clutch, carefully keeping the revs low.
The newly rebuilt drivetrain responded smoothly.
No hard launches.
No unnecessary throttle.
Exactly as Matteo had instructed.
Maruzensky followed the convoy.
The Countach slotted itself into the middle of the line.
King looked out through the passenger window.
The red bodywork reflected the industrial lights as they passed.
Behind them, the garage became smaller and smaller.
Matteo remained outside, watching the Countach leave.
Maruzensky lifted one hand briefly from the wheel and gave him a small wave through the open window.
Matteo raised his hand in return.
Then the convoy reached the end of the industrial road.
The road opened up ahead.
Maruzensky shifted into second.
The engine note changed.
She kept the throttle light.
The V12 was eager.
Very eager.
But for once, Maruzensky wasn't going to let it stretch its legs.
Not yet.
She had waited years to have her Countach back.
She could wait a little longer before unleashing all eight hundred seventy-six horsepower.
King looked toward her.
"You're really going to behave, aren't you?"
Maruzensky smiled.
"For the first few hundred kilometers?"
She nodded.
"Absolutely."
A brief pause.
"Probably."
King immediately looked at her.
"Maruzen-san."
Maruzensky laughed.
"I'm kidding!"
She shifted smoothly into third as the road widened.
The convoy continued forward.
The red Countach settled behind the Aventador and ahead of the cars following them.
And soon, the industrial district began disappearing behind them.
The warehouses gave way to larger roads.
The city lights grew brighter.
The open road stretched ahead.
And for the first time since the engine failure, Maruzensky was driving her beloved Countach again.
Not as a trophy.
Not as a museum piece.
Not as an unfinished project.
But as a living machine.
And she couldn't stop smiling.
The sunset slowly disappeared behind the horizon.
What had once been a warm orange glow across the sky gradually faded into deep blue, then into the darkness of night.
The last traces of daylight reflected across the Countach's red bodywork before finally disappearing beneath the artificial lights of the city.
Soon, they were back on the highway.
The convoy settled into a comfortable pace.
No one was in a hurry.
There was no destination that demanded urgency.
For once, the drive itself was the destination.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead of them, illuminated by overhead lights and the occasional glow of passing signs.
The tires rolled steadily over the asphalt.
Every so often, the Countach passed over one of the small grooves and joints in the road.
The faint rhythmic sound of the tires crossing them disturbed the otherwise smooth ride.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Each one briefly traveled through the chassis before disappearing beneath the steady mechanical hum of the car.
The lights of the highway passed by one after another.
Inside the Countach, everything was relatively quiet.
The new exhaust system was far from silent.
Its deep, metallic hum reverberated through the cabin, especially at cruising speed.
But compared to what the V12 could produce when Maruzensky opened the throttle, it was almost relaxing.
Almost.
King sat comfortably in the passenger seat.
Her four-point harness held her firmly against the seat as she watched the world outside.
Light poles flew past the window.
Then another.
And another.
The occasional truck appeared in the distance before slowly growing larger.
The convoy passed it.
Then the highway opened up again.
King's eyes remained fixed on the scenery.
She watched the lights of distant buildings.
The illuminated signs.
The red and white lights of other vehicles.
The city that never seemed to completely sleep.
For several minutes, neither of them said anything.
Maruzensky kept both hands on the steering wheel.
Her eyes remained focused on the road ahead.
She wasn't pushing the Countach.
She was doing exactly what Matteo had told her.
Gentle throttle.
Smooth shifts.
No sudden acceleration.
No hard cornering.
No attempt to discover what nine thousand RPM sounded like.
Yet even at a relaxed pace, the Countach felt alive.
Every movement through the steering wheel was transmitted back to Maruzensky's hands.
Every change in the road surface could be felt through the chassis.
The rebuilt suspension was firm without being uncomfortable.
The engine responded instantly whenever she made the smallest adjustment to the throttle.
It was the same Countach she had loved for years.
Yet somehow...
It felt different.
New.
Reborn.
Maruzensky occasionally glanced down at the instruments.
Oil pressure.
Temperature.
Everything was stable.
Exactly where it needed to be.
She smiled again.
King noticed.
But she didn't say anything.
Instead, she continued looking out the window.
Then, eventually—
She straightened herself in the seat.
Her attention shifted away from the scenery.
She turned her head toward Maruzensky.
"Maruzen?"
Maruzensky glanced at King for only a split second before returning her eyes to the road.
"Hm?"
King adjusted her seating position.
She shifted slightly against the four-point harness before settling back into place.
"I have to ask..."
She paused.
Maruzensky waited.
King looked at her.
"Why didn't you participate in the Derby race?"
The smile on Maruzensky's face slowly faded.
Her hands remained steady on the steering wheel.
But her expression changed.
Her ears lowered slightly.
She sighed.
Her voice became softer.
It was suddenly a much more serious conversation.
Maybe...
It was something King needed to hear.
Maybe it was something Maruzensky had been carrying with her for years.
Maruzensky stared at the road.
Her lips parted.
Then she began.
"Because..."
She paused.
"Of what I told you a while ago."
King's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Because..."
She hesitated.
"Of your foreign heritage?"
Maruzensky nodded.
"Yeah."
She kept her eyes on the road.
"Even though my parents are from the West..."
She took a breath.
"I'm born and raised here. In Japan."
She smiled faintly.
"Hokkaido, to be specific."
King listened.
"But..."
Maruzensky's voice became quieter.
Her eyes remained forward.
Her mind, however, was no longer on the highway.
It had gone somewhere else.
Somewhere far away.
Years ago.
Back when she was younger.
Back when the Twinkle Series still felt like the beginning of everything.
Her Classic year.
The Japanese Derby.
The memory returned with uncomfortable clarity.
A younger Maruzensky stood inside a URA office, her hands clenched at her sides.
She was younger.
Fiercer.
And far less willing to accept an answer she considered unfair.
Across from her stood a URA official.
He had already explained the decision several times.
But Maruzensky refused to accept it.
"That is not fair, you know!"
The younger Maruzensky slammed a hand against her chest.
"Just because I have bloodlines from America and Canada doesn't mean you can bar me from at least attempting it!"
The URA official sighed.
"Maruzensky..."
His voice was calm.
Almost painfully calm.
"You can't participate."
Maruzensky's ears flattened.
"No matter what?"
"No matter what."
She stared at him.
"Then put me on the outer gates!"
The official blinked.
Maruzensky continued.
"I don't care!"
Her voice grew louder.
"Do anything to slow me down!"
She pointed toward herself.
"I'm not in it for the prize money!"
"I just want to see how I can compete with the others!"
Her breathing became heavier.
"Hell!"
She clenched her fists.
"Don't even classify me in the race!"
"I don't care about the classification!"
"I just want to run!"
The official remained still.
There was nothing he could say that she hadn't already heard.
Maruzensky stared at him.
Waiting.
Hoping.
Even begging without actually saying the words.
But the answer remained the same.
The official slowly shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
Maruzensky's anger faltered.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her voice became smaller.
"...Why?"
The official didn't answer immediately.
Because there was no answer that would make her feel better.
Rules were rules.
Her heritage placed her outside the eligibility requirements.
It didn't matter that she had been born in Japan.
It didn't matter that she had been raised there.
It didn't matter that she had trained there.
It didn't matter how much she wanted to prove herself.
The Derby was simply something she wasn't allowed to enter.
Young Maruzensky's eyes began to water.
She quickly looked away.
She didn't want him to see.
She didn't want anyone to see.
She had always been confident.
Always been energetic.
Always acted as though nothing could stop her.
But that day...
Something had.
Not another racer.
Not a mechanical failure.
Not an injury.
Not even her own ability.
A rule had stopped her.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
The memory began to blur.
The sound of the highway returned.
The steady hum of the Countach's engine.
The faint vibration of the road.
The lights passing outside the windows.
Maruzensky blinked.
She was back in the present.
She took a slow breath.
"I have no regrets about the races I ran."
King remained silent.
Maruzensky continued.
"I really don't."
She smiled faintly.
"I had a wonderful career."
"I got to race."
"I got to meet so many incredible people."
"I got to drive this car."
Her right hand briefly tightened around the steering wheel.
"And I got to experience things that younger me could only dream about."
King looked at her.
"But..."
Maruzensky's smile disappeared again.
"At the same time..."
She stared straight ahead.
"I can't help but imagine sometimes."
"What would have happened..."
She paused.
"If I had participated in the Derby that time."
The words hung in the cabin.
King didn't immediately answer.
The Countach continued down the highway.
The convoy remained visible ahead.
Red taillights.
White headlights.
A steady line of friends traveling together through the night.
Maruzensky continued.
"I know it wouldn't change anything now."
"I know that."
She laughed softly.
"There's no point thinking about something that happened so long ago."
"But..."
Her voice became quieter.
"You know how sometimes you look back at one moment in your life..."
"And you wonder..."
She swallowed.
"...what if?"
King's expression softened.
Maruzensky glanced at her.
"That's what the Derby is to me."
"A what-if."
King looked down.
She understood that feeling.
Perhaps more than Maruzensky realized.
Maruzensky continued driving.
"The funny thing is..."
She smiled faintly.
"I don't even know if I would've won."
King looked toward her.
Maruzensky shrugged.
"Maybe I would've."
"Maybe I would've lost."
"Maybe I would've surprised everyone."
"Maybe I would've finished somewhere nobody remembers."
She chuckled.
"I'll never know."
"And that's probably what bothers me the most."
The Countach's engine continued its steady hum.
Maruzensky's eyes remained on the road.
"I didn't get the chance to find out."
King remained silent.
Then Maruzensky looked at her.
"That's why I'm really envious of you, King."
King's eyes widened.
"Y-You... are?"
Maruzensky slowly nodded.
"Yeah."
King stared at her.
Maruzensky gave her a small smile.
"Because you still have something I never got."
"A chance."
King's expression changed.
Maruzensky continued.
"You've already accomplished so much."
"You've won races people thought were impossible."
"You just won the Japanese Oaks by a margin nobody expected."
"And now you're heading toward the final crown."
She paused.
"But you're still wondering what comes next."
King looked down at her lap.
Maruzensky's voice remained gentle.
"You're wondering how far you can really go."
King's fingers tightened slightly against the edge of her seat.
Maruzensky saw it.
She knew exactly what King was thinking.
"Even though..."
She hesitated.
"Even though you're past your prime."
King's ears twitched.
The words didn't hurt because they were cruel.
They hurt because they were true.
Maruzensky wasn't insulting her.
She was describing the very thought that had been sitting inside King's head for weeks.
King had already accomplished things that many racers spent their entire careers chasing.
The Tiara.
The Japanese Oaks.
The records.
The attention.
The expectations.
And yet...
She still wondered.
What if there was more?
What if she could go further?
What if she had another peak?
What if she could accomplish something nobody expected from her?
And what if she stopped now?
Would she regret it?
King looked out through the window again.
The lights continued passing.
One after another.
One after another.
One after another.
She finally spoke.
"So..."
Her voice was quiet.
"You're saying you're envious because I still have the opportunity to find out?"
Maruzensky nodded.
"Exactly."
King looked down.
"And you don't regret not racing in it?"
Maruzensky smiled.
"No."
She thought for a moment.
"Not exactly."
King turned toward her.
Maruzensky continued.
"I don't regret the life I lived."
"I don't regret the races."
"I don't regret the cars."
"I don't regret anything I've done."
She paused.
"But I do wonder."
"Sometimes."
She looked at the road ahead.
"That's different."
King understood.
There was a difference between regret and curiosity.
Regret was wishing you could change the past.
Curiosity was wondering what another version of your life might have looked like.
Maruzensky had accepted the past.
But she hadn't stopped wondering about it.
And perhaps she never would.
The Countach passed beneath another overhead sign.
Its red paint briefly reflected the white light.
Then the car disappeared back into the darkness.
King finally spoke again.
"I think..."
She paused.
"I understand."
Maruzensky glanced at her.
King continued.
"Because I've been thinking about my own 'what if.'"
Maruzensky raised an eyebrow.
"Your own?"
King nodded.
She looked down.
"I've been thinking about what happens after the Shuka Sho."
Maruzensky's expression became serious.
"The final crown."
King nodded.
"Yeah."
She looked toward the road ahead.
"I've been thinking..."
"What if I stop after that?"
Maruzensky didn't interrupt.
King continued.
"I've already done so much."
Her voice became increasingly uncertain.
"Maybe it's time to let someone else take over."
"The next generation."
She clenched her hands.
"Maybe I've done everything I needed to do."
Maruzensky was quiet for several seconds.
Then she asked.
"Do you actually believe that?"
King looked at her.
"I..."
She couldn't answer.
Maruzensky nodded slowly.
"That's what I thought."
King frowned.
"You don't think I should retire?"
Maruzensky didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she looked at the road.
"I don't think that's my decision to make."
She smiled faintly.
"Neither is it your trainer's."
King's eyes narrowed.
"Then whose is it?"
Maruzensky glanced toward her.
"Yours."
King blinked.
Maruzensky returned her attention to the road.
"But don't make that decision because you're scared of what comes after."
King went still.
Maruzensky continued.
"If you retire because you genuinely believe your story is finished..."
"Then that's one thing."
"But if you retire because you're afraid that your next chapter won't be as impressive as the last..."
She shook her head.
"That's different."
King stared at her.
Maruzensky smiled.
"Don't confuse the two."
For several seconds, King didn't respond.
The words stayed with her.
She looked outside again.
The city was moving past them.
She could see distant buildings.
Highway signs.
Bridges.
The occasional airplane passing overhead.
And somewhere ahead, the rest of their friends were driving too.
Nobody knew what she was thinking.
Nobody knew that she had been seriously considering leaving the Twinkle Series.
Nobody knew that part of her believed she had already reached the end of her story.
Except perhaps Urara.
And now Maruzensky.
King slowly leaned back into her seat.
The harness held her firmly.
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Maruzensky noticed.
"You okay?"
King opened her eyes.
"Yeah."
A pause.
"I'm just thinking."
Maruzensky smiled.
"Good."
She gently moved her hand across the gear lever.
The Countach continued cruising.
She waited for the revs to settle.
Then smoothly shifted into the next gear.
No sudden movement.
No unnecessary throttle.
Just a clean mechanical transition.
The rebuilt transmission responded exactly as it should.
King listened to the change in engine note.
The V12 dropped slightly in pitch.
Then settled into its steady hum again.
Maruzensky smiled.
"She's behaving."
King looked toward her.
"Matteo would be proud."
"Matteo would probably still tell me to drive slower."
King laughed quietly.
"Probably."
Maruzensky laughed too.
For a moment, the heaviness disappeared.
Just two friends.
Just a car.
Just a highway.
But the conversation had changed something.
Neither of them said it aloud.
They didn't need to.
King had been thinking about ending her racing career.
Maruzensky had spent years wondering about the opportunity she never received.
Both had their own unanswered questions.
Both had their own "what if."
And perhaps that was why the conversation mattered.
Because sometimes the person who understood your doubts wasn't the person who had lived the same life.
It was the person who carried a different version of the same question.
What could I have done?
What could I still do?
The convoy eventually approached another interchange.
Chiyono O's Aventador moved smoothly toward the exit.
C.B. followed.
Vodka's Charger came behind them.
Maruzensky activated the turn signal.
The Countach moved into the appropriate lane.
King looked ahead.
The city lights were becoming more familiar.
They were getting closer to home.
Closer to Tracen.
Closer to the dormitories.
Closer to the end of the night.
Maruzensky gently guided the Countach through the interchange.
She kept the steering movements smooth and controlled.
No hard acceleration.
No sudden braking.
Exactly as Matteo had ordered.
King smiled faintly.
"You really are behaving."
Maruzensky grinned.
"Of course."
A beat.
"Mostly."
King rolled her eyes.
"Maruzen-san..."
Maruzensky laughed.
"I'm joking!"
The Countach continued toward the city.
Eventually, the highway ended.
The convoy entered the streets.
Traffic lights illuminated the road ahead.
Pedestrians moved along the sidewalks.
Late-night restaurants remained open.
Convenience stores glowed brightly against the darkness.
The city was still alive.
But compared to earlier in the evening, everything felt calmer.
The convoy maintained formation through the streets.
Nobody needed to say where they were going.
They all knew.
Home.
As they approached the dormitory area, the Countach's exhaust note became quieter between the buildings.
Maruzensky slowed.
The V12 dropped into a low, steady idle.
She turned into the entrance.
The familiar parking area came into view.
Cars were parked beneath the lights.
The same place where they had spent countless evenings talking, working on cars, cleaning them, and planning their next drives.
Maruzensky guided the Countach into an empty space.
She pressed the clutch.
Moved the gear lever into neutral.
Applied the brake.
Then pulled the handbrake.
The Countach settled.
Maruzensky let her foot come off the clutch.
For a moment, she simply sat there.
King unbuckled her harness.
Click.
The shoulder straps loosened.
She placed them neatly aside.
Maruzensky switched off the ignition.
The V12 gradually fell silent.
The exhaust stopped humming.
The cabin became completely quiet.
Maruzensky smiled.
She placed both hands on the steering wheel.
She looked down at it.
Then at the dashboard.
Then through the windshield toward the parking area.
Her Countach was home.
King looked at her.
"You happy?"
Maruzensky nodded.
"Very."
She smiled.
"I missed this."
King nodded.
"I can tell."
Maruzensky looked at her.
"And you?"
King paused.
"Me?"
"Are you feeling better?"
King thought about it.
Then gave a small smile.
"A little."
Maruzensky nodded.
"Good."
They opened their doors.
King stepped out first.
Maruzensky followed.
The cool night air immediately replaced the warmth of the cabin.
King stretched her arms.
Maruzensky walked around the Countach and looked at it beneath the parking lights.
The red paint gleamed.
The freshly detailed bodywork reflected the lights cleanly.
The quad exhausts sat beneath the rear bumper.
Everything looked almost too perfect.
Maruzensky reached out and rested a hand against the rear quarter panel.
"Welcome home."
King smiled.
"You really do talk to your car."
Maruzensky turned toward her.
"Of course."
She grinned.
"Don't you?"
King looked toward her R32.
She paused.
"...Sometimes."
Maruzensky laughed.
"I knew it!"
The others began arriving in the parking area.
Chiyono O parked the Aventador.
C.B. brought the TAG Turbo into its space.
Vodka pulled the Charger in behind them.
Special Week climbed out, stretching after the long ride.
Daiwa stepped out after her.
The group slowly gathered again.
For several minutes, nobody talked about racing.
Nobody talked about records.
Nobody talked about the Shuka Sho.
Nobody talked about retirement.
They simply admired the cars.
The Countach.
The TAG Turbo.
The Aventador.
The Charger.
The R32.
The other cars waiting beneath the dormitory lights.
It was an ordinary night.
At least on the surface.
But for King, the conversation on the highway remained in her mind.
Maruzensky's words echoed quietly.
Don't make that decision because you're scared of what comes after.
King looked toward the Countach.
Then toward Maruzensky.
She remembered what she had said earlier.
After this race.
I'm transferring to the Dream Trophy League.
She had been so certain.
Or at least, she had tried to be.
Now...
For the first time, she wasn't entirely sure.
Maybe the Shuka Sho wasn't the end.
Maybe it was simply another starting line.
King looked toward the dark sky.
The final crown was still months away.
There was still time.
Time to race.
Time to train.
Time to think.
And perhaps most importantly—
Time to find out what she was actually capable of.
Maruzensky walked over and gently tapped King's shoulder.
"Hey."
King turned.
"Hm?"
Maruzensky smiled.
"Come on."
"Let's get some sleep."
King looked at her.
Then smiled.
"Yeah."
She nodded.
"Let's."
The two began walking toward the dormitory entrance.
Behind them, the Countach sat quietly beneath the lights.
Its rebuilt engine was cooling.
Its new exhaust was silent.
Its suspension was settling after the long drive.
It had survived its failure.
It had been rebuilt.
It had been given another chance.
And perhaps, King thought as she glanced back one last time—
So had she.
She turned forward.
The dormitory doors opened.
The two disappeared inside.
Outside, the cars remained parked beneath the night sky.
Tomorrow would bring another morning.
Another training session.
Another day closer to the Shuka Sho.
And eventually, October would arrive.
Where the final crown would be waiting.