The Following Morning
Beidou and Amber had just finished laying everything out for Lyney—every last detail of what had gone down the night before.
The air inside the gas station office hung heavy, stale with the lingering scent of engine oil and over-roasted coffee. Lyney sat perched on the edge of the desk, his gloves off, fingers laced. When Amber finished recounting the final moments of the race, he blinked, eyes wide in disbelief.
"Collei actually lost!?"
Amber exhaled hard, her breath carrying the weight of everything unspoken. She leaned back against the wall, arms folded, shoulders slumped.
"Technically," she said, her voice flat but gentle, "it wasn't a real loss. It was an exhibition run. No finish line. No stakes on paper. Nobody officially lost anything."
A beat of silence passed. Then her voice softened to a near-whisper.
"But… Collei lost something a hell of a lot more personal. Her pride. Her machine. Her identity. That Eight Six was everything to her."
Beidou stood off to the side, arms crossed tight over her chest, her face locked in a rare display of pure seriousness. She gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. It hit her hard. Real hard." She looked down at her phone, thumbing through a recent message. "She texted late last night. Said she couldn't sleep—said the sound of the engine blowing up kept replaying in her head like a stuck record. She's spiraling."
And then, right on cue, the still morning air was split by the unmistakable howl of something angry and Italian.
The three turned in unison as a wedge-shaped blur coasted into the gas station—sleek, wide, and unmistakably aggressive.
Clorinde's Lancia Rally 037.
It growled up to the pump with the grace of a predator, the high-pitched whine of the supercharger echoing off the pavement as the four-cylinder engine snarled in a deep, staccato idle. Every movement of the car felt precise, surgical.
She killed the engine and stepped out, her presence cold, self-contained, military-clean. Her slate-blue eyes swept over the trio.
"Is Collei here?" she asked, voice calm, clipped.
Amber shook her head. "Nah. Took the day off. She's still… processing what happened. It hit her harder than we thought."
Clorinde gave a single nod, slow and measured. "I figured as much."
She paused, lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms across her chest.
"It's a hard truth to swallow. But it happened. What's done is done. She has to find a way to move forward. There's no other option."
Beidou grunted in agreement. "Tell me about it. When the RB26 in my R32 let go a few months back, it felt like the end of the world. Oil all over the highway, white smoke pouring out the back like a goddamn bonfire." Her gaze drifted toward the distant mountain ridge, her expression turning almost wistful. "But the truth is, machines break. Doesn't matter how much you care for them. Eventually, they'll fail."
She looked back at Clorinde, voice resolute.
"The only way through it is to face it. Accept it. Then rebuild."
Clorinde's reply was subtle—just a faint lift at the corner of her mouth. Not a smile. Something cooler. Something understanding.
"Exactly."
She glanced at her phone, checked the time with a glance.
"I just came to check in. I'll be heading back to Araumi to prep for tonight's race. Big night ahead."
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and slipped back into the Lancia's tight cockpit, shutting the door with a hollow clack. The engine fired back to life with a sharp bark and settled into that same lean, brutal idle. She revved once—clean, sharp throttle input. No wasted motion.
Then the car pulled away, disappearing into the brightening horizon. The scream of the 037's exhaust echoed for several seconds after it vanished from sight.
Afternoon – Collei's Home
Collei lay flat on her bed, arms at her sides, eyes staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun slowly above her.
She wasn't really seeing it.
In her mind, the scene looped over and over again—the moment everything fell apart.
The ear-splitting BANG of metal giving out.
The lurch of the Eight Six as the rear tires broke loose without warning, fishtailing violently.
The sickening centrifugal spin that threw the car off its line and into stillness.
She could still smell it—the scorched oil, the fried coolant, the metallic burn of something important that had torn itself apart. The AE86 had sat there, lights on, hood smoking, oil leaking out onto the tarmac like blood from a slit artery.
Her car. Her car.
Gone.
Her chest clenched, tight and sharp. She squeezed her eyes shut. As if it might somehow rewind the tape.
It didn't.
KNOCK KNOCK.
She flinched.
Then held still, pretending she hadn't heard it. Maybe if she didn't move, it would stop.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Harder this time. Persistent.
With a groan, she sat up and dragged herself to her feet. "I'm coming, I'm coming…"
Her voice was hoarse, the words slurred by exhaustion.
She made her way downstairs, each step like walking through molasses. When she opened the door, Amber stood on the porch, her expression tight with concern, brows knitted together.
"…Hey, Amber."
Collei's voice barely carried. Her eyes were dull, red-rimmed. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week.
Amber stepped forward and gently rested a hand on her shoulder. Her tone was quiet but unwavering.
"Collei… are you okay?"
Collei didn't answer right away. She just shook her head, slowly.
"…Not really."
Amber gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Come on. Let's go for a drive. Clear your head. Yougou Lake. Just us."
Collei hesitated. Her eyes flicked down, then back up. Searching Amber's face for any hint of judgment. There wasn't any.
Finally, she gave a small nod.
"…Yeah. I guess we can go."
She locked the door behind her, and the two headed out to the driveway. The Sileighty was parked there, its low, two-tone body gleaming softly under the afternoon sun—gunmetal over pearl white. The turbocharged engine purred to life with a smooth, controlled hum.
Collei slid into the passenger seat, silent.
The tires rolled onto the road, and the Sileighty eased down the slope, winding its way toward the edge of Mount Yougou and the lake that waited beyond.
Evening – Araumi Pass
Meanwhile, far above sea level, the sun had dipped into the treetops as Beidou and Seele made their way toward Araumi Pass—both of them already bracing for the thunderstorm of a race about to unfold between Ningguang and Feixiao.
The Devil Z sliced through the twilight, its deep blue bodywork almost melting into the shadows.
Beidou reclined in the passenger seat, one arm draped over the window. She turned and smirked at Seele.
"So she's back to 600 horsepower now, huh?"
Seele's grin was unmistakably smug. "Damn right."
She tapped the dial of the electronic boost controller on the dash—set to 1.3 bar, full send.
"Full boost tonight. I want all 600 horses on the leash, ready to rip."
Beidou whistled low. "And Pela tweaked the suspension again, yeah?"
Seele nodded without taking her eyes off the road. "Corner exit grip was the weak link. Pela dialed in stiffer rebound on the rear coilovers. Also swapped to semi-slicks. Yokohama A050s. We're ready."
As they climbed into the higher switchbacks, a pair of headlights began creeping up in the rearview mirror—close. Too close.
Seele's eyes narrowed. "Tch. We've got a tick on our ass."
Beidou glanced over her shoulder. "Damn, they're drafting like it's a slipstream game."
Seele's fingers curled tight around the Nardi wheel. A wicked smile crept onto her face.
"Wanna show 'em why they shouldn't poke the Z?"
Beidou grinned. "Let it eat."
With a snap-blip, Seele downshifted. The transmission clicked into gear. Then she crushed the throttle.
Twin turbos screamed in sync as the Devil Z roared to life. The surge was instant. The rear tires clawed into the pavement, shoving the car forward like it had been kicked by a rocket.
The G-forces hit like a gut punch.
The gap exploded open. Within seconds, the tailgater was a speck in the mirror, shrinking fast.
Seele chuckled low, her eyes glowing with satisfaction. "That's why they call it the Devil Z."
Beidou laughed out loud. "Hell yeah. Just try not to get us banned from the mountain tonight."
Seele lifted off the gas, letting the engine settle into a menacing burble as she dropped the car back into cruise. The power was there—always. But for now, it could sleep.
As they crested the ridge, the faint glow of taillights and parking clusters lit up the overlook.
Araumi Pass was alive.
And tonight?
Tonight was gonna be war.
By Yougou Lake – Sunset
The sun was slipping behind the horizon, its golden rays melting into the lake's glassy surface like molten metal poured from a crucible. Shadows stretched long and sharp, and the wind had quieted to a whisper, letting the hush of gentle ripples carry unbroken across the shore. It should've felt peaceful—perfect, even.
But inside Collei's chest, there was nothing but static and wreckage.
She stood motionless near the edge of the lake, the toes of her sneakers just kissing the wet gravel. Amber lingered beside her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of her bomber jacket, silent save for the rhythmic tap of her heel against a stray rock.
Collei's voice, when it finally came, was flat. Raw. "Clorinde stopped by earlier," Amber said, breaking the silence like a thrown pebble. "She wanted to check on you."
Collei said nothing at first. Then she crouched low, her fingers brushing the cold, glassy surface of the water. Her reflection stared back at her—distorted, blurred. The ripples turned her eyes into vague shadows. It felt appropriate.
"I'm okay… I guess. Sorta," she mumbled. "I just… I can't get my head around it."
Amber dropped into a crouch beside her, mirroring her posture. Her brow furrowed. "What can't you wrap your head around?"
Collei's hand skimmed the water again. The chill bit at her fingertips, grounding her.
"I was outmatched," she admitted, voice barely above the murmur of the wind. "I pushed the Eight Six to its limit. Past it, even. I took everything it had to give. And that's when it all went to shit."
Amber hesitated. The next question clung to the back of her tongue like a splinter. She asked it anyway. "What's gonna happen to the Eight Six now?"
Collei let out a long breath. Shoulders sagging, posture collapsing inward like her whole frame was folding under the weight of her own failure.
"I don't know," she muttered. "Dad'll probably swap in a new engine. That's the easy part. But… beyond that? I have no fucking clue."
The Corners of Araumi – Night Falls
The mountain pass came alive under floodlights, and the hum of anticipation buzzed in the humid night air like static before a lightning strike. Tight hairpins and blind corners lined the serpentine road like waiting jaws, and every inch of guardrail was flanked by spectators—drivers, locals, and diehards from every prefecture of Inazuma. All of them pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, phones out, eyes fixed on the downhill.
And then it happened.
A banshee wail cut through the night—the unmistakable sound of a high-revving four-cylinder turbo winding out in third gear.
The crowd parted as a white AE86 Levin burst out of a switchback, all sharp angles and crisp throttle modulation. The back end twitched, snapped sideways, and then bit again as the driver caught the slide and rocketed into the next straight with razor-sharp precision. The polished paint caught the light like a scalpel flash.
"Whoa!" one of the crowd shouted, gripping the guardrail as the Levin flew past. "Is that Yougou's Eight Six!?"
"Nah," another guy said, squinting at the tail lights. "Check the plates—Kannazuka. Different driver."
The Levin slid into a rest area with a clean, practiced trail-brake entry, the turbo fluttering on lift-off. It came to a stop beside a vending machine, the idle loping steady and confident.
The driver door opened with a tired creak.
A teenage girl stepped out, school uniform rumpled and collar half-untucked. She stretched long and slow, arms over her head, muscles tight from hours of white-knuckle driving.
She leaned on the guardrail, gaze fixed on the mountain like it owed her something.
"Finally," she muttered, wiping sweat from her brow. "That drive was brutal… been at it since sunset."
The Summit – Feixiao vs. Ningguang
The mountaintop was a crucible.
Low clouds crawled over the treeline, stained gray by the halo of headlights and campfire smoke. The scent of fuel, scorched tires, and damp pine mixed in the air like incense before battle.
Then, the predator arrived.
The unmistakable snarl of a tuned 4G63 filled the silence as a dark grey Lancer Evo IX crested the ridge, its projector headlights slicing twin blades through the mist. The car moved like a loaded spring—controlled, but thrumming with tension.
Feixiao guided it up to the starting line with the nonchalance of someone who'd done this a thousand times but never stopped respecting it. She cut the engine with a flick of her wrist, yanked the handbrake, and stepped out in one smooth motion.
Across the line, already waiting, was the FC RX-7—low, pristine, clinical in its beauty. Its rotary engine purred like a tiger pacing a cage.
Ningguang leaned against her hood, arms folded, smile unreadable.
Feixiao mirrored her stance, arms crossing over her own chest as the weight of the moment coiled in her gut. "Well," she said, voice steady but sharp as broken glass, "looks like the time has finally come."
Ningguang didn't move, but her smile grew. The confidence rolling off her was palpable—dense like pressure in the air before a thunderclap. "Just you and me this time."
Feixiao's lips curled. Not a smirk. A grin. Wild. Proud. Hungry. "That's the spirit. You'll see—I'm not the same Feixiao from last year."
The engines roared to life, the mountain preparing to bear witness once more.
Back at Yougou Lake – Midnight
The stars spilled across the sky like a shattered mirror. The lake was a black sheet, perfectly still—so calm it looked fake. But Collei felt none of it.
Her boots thudded dully on the wooden dock as she walked beside Amber. Every step felt heavier than the last. Each footfall echoed off the water, the sound swallowed quickly by the vast silence.
Amber glanced sideways at her. "Still feeling the weight of it?"
Collei gave a tiny nod, barely perceptible. Her voice came out strained, like it hurt to even form the words. "Yeah… I can't shake it."
Amber's arm slid across her shoulders without hesitation. "Talk to me," she said gently. "We're partners, remember?"
Collei inhaled, held it, then let it out slowly, like she was trying to bleed the poison out through her lungs. "Ever since I raced Clorinde, it's been like there's something chasing me. Speed, time, pressure—I dunno. I'm trying to get faster, smoother, sharper. But the more I push… the angrier I get. The more the noise builds up in my head."
She clenched her fists at her sides.
"That anger—it screws me up. I've been slipping up. During deliveries, even—I almost spill the water all the time now. It's like… like my control's cracking."
She looked skyward. Stars stared back.
"And then Araumi happened. I chased that Evo like a fucking maniac. I pushed the Eight Six harder than I ever had. Way harder. And when I crossed that invisible line…"
She swallowed, voice cracking.
"It was over."
Amber didn't say a word. Just pulled her closer as Collei's voice faltered and the dam broke.
Tears spilled down her cheeks in hot, messy waves.
"Come on, Collei," Amber said softly. "You know that wasn't your fault."
"How can it not be?" she whispered. "I was the one holding the wheel. I should've known better."
Amber tightened her grip, firm and steady. "Don't do this to yourself. It wasn't even a real race—it was an exhibition. There wasn't supposed to be a winner or a loser."
Collei collapsed into her arms, the weight of failure finally too much to carry.
"But… I was a loser," she choked. "I lost my Eight Six…"
Amber held her close, her voice low and firm as stone.
"We'll get through this. Together."
At Lynette's Garage – The Resurrection Begins
The garage was dim, the only illumination coming from a flickering fluorescent tube above the workbench. Shadows danced across the concrete floor, warped by scattered tools, oil cans, and half-assembled engine components.
Lynette stood in the center, calm and focused as ever, pulling on a pair of snug nitrile gloves. Her white hair caught the blue-white glow of the light as she turned toward the covered mass in the middle of the shop.
The tarp rustled. With one swift pull, she yanked it off—revealing a freshly built powerplant, all polished aluminum, steel braided lines, and high-strung promise. A new heart for a fallen beast.
Behind her, Arlecchino stood with her arms crossed, cigarette smoke curling from between her lips as she watched.
A smirk tugged at the edge of her mouth. "By tomorrow," she said, exhaling slowly, "everyone will be talking."
Her eyes locked on the Eight Six—stripped down to the skeleton, panels removed, engine bay gutted but clean.
"Yougou's Eight Six… back from the fucking dead."
Lynette rolled up her sleeves, stepping toward the car. Her golden eyes narrowed as she picked up a torque wrench and checked the mounting bolts. Her fingers were sure. Unshaking.
"Let's make it happen," she said, voice quiet but certain.
The resurrection had begun.