Summer, 202X – Mount Yougou
Mount Yougou loomed under the ink-black sky, veiled in a cool mist that clung to the trees like ghosts of old racers. Silver moonlight spilled across the road's damp surface, glinting off every guardrail and leaf. A hush blanketed the slopes, broken only by the chorus of crickets, whispering like spectators waiting for a ghost to reappear.
4:45 AM.
Then came the howl.
A set of headlights snapped through the darkness like twin blades, casting long shadows across the mountain's twists. The sound of an engine echoed off the ravine walls—raw, sharp, unfiltered.
A panda-colored AE86 Trueno burst into view, low beams skimming the road's surface as it devoured the downhill. The unmistakable snarl of a naturally aspirated 4A-GE engine sang through the morning silence, the high-strung 1.6L inline-four screaming as the tachometer needle surged past 6,800 RPM, dangerously flirting with redline. The revs weren't just high—they were sustained, held at peak torque as the driver squeezed everything from the modest powerplant.
This wasn't a car being driven.
This was a car being commanded.
The Trueno dove into a tight left-hander. The moment it did, the driver's left foot depressed the clutch in one smooth motion while the right heel blipped the throttle—heel-toe downshift—and the shifter was rammed into second gear with mechanical certainty. The clutch came out with perfect timing, revs matching flawlessly. The engine didn't jerk. It didn't stumble. It sang.
Just before turn-in, the steering wheel flicked right—a feint. The AE86's weight shifted momentarily away from the corner, then the wheel snapped left as the driver yanked the car into the true direction of the turn. The sudden shift in momentum kicked the rear end loose. The tires howled as the car entered an initiated drift, rear sliding outward in a precise arc.
Countersteer came immediately. The driver's hands gripped the wheel at 9 and 3, wrists locked in total harmony with the car's attitude. The front wheels pointed opposite the turn, just enough to angle the car into a perfect slip.
Right foot feathered the gas—tap, tap, squeeze, hold—just enough throttle to keep the back end hanging out but not spinning out. The LSD locked. The rear tires danced right on the edge of adhesion, each correction razor-thin. No overcorrections. No panic inputs.
This was touge ballet—and the driver was a goddamn maestro.
The car exited the turn with the tail barely brushing the edge of the guardrail, inches from disaster, inches from perfection. The moment the wheels straightened, the throttle went full—no hesitation. The engine climbed again with a rising wail, rear squat pressing the tires into the asphalt as the Trueno surged ahead.
This wasn't luck. It was a morning ritual.
To the few locals who even noticed, the panda AE86 was an apparition. A ghost that flew down Mount Yougou every morning before the sun rose, always unseen, always untouchable.
People talked.
Some called it an old racer stuck in the past. Others swore it was just a delivery kid practicing alone. Most dismissed it as a damn fairy tale. But every so often, a visiting team would try to follow it. Some even tried to chase it down.
They didn't catch shit.
Because this wasn't a delivery car.
This was the fastest machine on Mount Yougou.
Afternoon – A Local Gas Station
Heat shimmered above the sunbaked pavement outside a roadside gas station at the foot of the mountain. The sun hammered the rooftops, the smell of gasoline and hot rubber thick in the air. The low buzz of a vending machine and the distant crackle of cicadas filled the silence, while a greasy scent wafted from a food stall across the lot.
March 7th sat slumped against a gas pump, angrily stabbing her finger at her phone screen as she scrolled through car listings.
"Ugh! Everything's either rusted to hell or priced like it shit gold," she muttered.
She twisted the screen toward Collei, who stood with her arms crossed, her gaze half-lidded with disinterest. March kept flicking through the listings, one after another—wrecked Silvia shells, blown Supra motors, overpriced drift missiles—until she stopped on something that made her eyes light up.
"I was thinking about a Supra Twin Turbo," she said, turning the phone to show a pristine JZA80 with gleaming red paint and a spotless 2JZ under the hood. "But it's crazy expensive. And it's not even road-legal yet."
Collei gave a slow blink. "How much is your budget again?"
"Eight million Mora…" March mumbled, scratching her head. "Maybe ten. If I don't eat for a week."
Collei frowned. "And you're looking at fucking Supras?"
March groaned. "I was hoping for a miracle, okay?"
She scrolled again. A beat-up S13. A sketchy RX-8 with a check engine light in every photo. And then—
"WAIT." She shoved the phone into Collei's hands. "An AE86! Look at it! Clean body, no rust, original engine, and just barely within budget if we both pitch in."
Collei stared at the listing for a second. Her fingers twitched on the edges of the screen.
"I don't know, March…" she murmured. "I already have a car. It gets the deliveries done."
March froze. Her eyes widened in dramatic horror before she grabbed Collei by the shoulders like she just confessed to a war crime.
"That old hunk of shit?! You mean the rolling deathtrap you've been dragging up and down the mountain?!"
Collei shrugged. "It works."
"No no no—Collei, listen to me." March gestured wildly. "The AE86 is perfect. Lightweight, RWD, manual box, amazing chassis. Do you know how many people would sell a kidney for a clean one of these?"
"You're just quoting a car magazine."
"And you're quoting 'I don't care about fun'!" March snapped.
Before their argument spiraled further, a new voice cut in.
"You girls have good taste."
Both turned. Beidou stood near a pump, arms crossed, leaning casually against her R32 GT-R. The car sat low and aggressive, its deep gunmetal paint glinting under the sun. The quad round taillights looked like a set of angry red eyes.
March spun on her heel. "See?! Beidou gets it!"
Beidou exhaled a lazy breath, faint smell of motor oil and cigarettes clinging to her. "AE86 is a solid chassis. Not a powerhouse, but if you know what you're doing, that car will eat people alive on the touge. It's got balance, response, and soul."
March smirked triumphantly at Collei. "Told you."
Collei just sighed, mentally tapping out.
Beidou stretched, arms above her head. "My crew's heading up Mount Yougou tonight. Just some test runs. You two should tag along."
March lit up. "Wait—shit—we don't even have a car."
Beidou just nodded toward the R32. "I've got space."
March's grin was immediate. "FUCK yes!" She grabbed Collei by the arm. "We're going!"
That Evening
The sky bled orange and violet as the sun dipped behind the hills, streaks of dying light slashing through the clouds like fire. Streetlamps crackled to life one by one, casting pools of yellow against the cracked concrete of the gas station lot. The air reeked of burnt oil, old rubber, and sunbaked asphalt—Narukami's signature evening cologne. A low hum of distant engines carried over the wind, ghosts of machines roaming the twilight.
Beidou leaned against her R32 Skyline, idly spinning a Gojira keychain around her index finger. The gunmetal-gray coupe crouched low on Volk TE37s, its profile deadly even at rest. She spotted March and Collei approaching and straightened up.
"Bus stop. Eight o'clock sharp," she said, voice casual but edged with steel. "Don't keep me waiting."
March shot her a grin and tossed a lazy thumbs-up. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"
They were halfway to the sidewalk when a voice slid in, smooth and sharp as a boxcutter.
"I overheard that."
The girls turned. Lyney Snezhevich, owner of the gas station and former street demon, stepped out from the shadows behind the register window. His coveralls were stained with oil and brake fluid, sleeves rolled, black rag in one hand. His gaze pinned them in place like nails.
"You headed to Yougou?"
Beidou smirked. "Yeah. Gotta keep the edge sharp. My crew owns that mountain."
Lyney let out a small laugh through his nose, folding his arms across his chest. "You think you're the fastest?"
Beidou's smile faltered—just for a second.
"You got someone else in mind?"
Lyney stepped closer, voice lowering, eyes narrowing like he was peeling open a story he hadn't touched in years.
"Back when I still ran the touge, there was one driver nobody—nobody—could touch. She didn't show up at night like the rest of us. She ran alone. Dawn. 3, maybe 4AM. Every day."
March frowned. "You're saying she still runs?"
Lyney nodded slowly. "Without fail. Same run. No mistakes. Always alone. No stickers. No noise."
"Why?" Beidou crossed her arms. "Why the hell would anyone run the touge alone at 4AM?"
Lyney turned, nodding toward the far road that wound up into the mountains.
"She delivers tofu."
Beidou blinked. "What?"
"Runs it from her shop near the shopping street. Rain, fog, black ice—doesn't matter. She's out there. Her car's older than yours. Bone stock exterior. Panda paintjob. No one pays it any mind… until it overtakes them."
A beat of silence. Beidou squinted toward the horizon.
"…You're telling me the fastest thing on Mount Yougou is some tofu delivery car?"
Lyney smirked, stepping back into the shadow of the shop's neon.
"Believe what you want," he said. "But if you're out there early enough… you'll know."
Beidou said nothing, her eyes locked on the dark silhouette of the mountain. Her usual swagger dulled by something she couldn't quite name. A chill, like rubber skimming guardrail at 120 klicks.
Nightfall — Narukami Shopping Street
The shopping district had fallen into its usual nighttime lull, neon signs buzzing quietly above shuttered storefronts. Rain-slick cobblestones shimmered pink and gold from their reflections. A breeze crept through the narrow alleys, curling the scent of grilled meat from a yakitori stand still packing up.
On the porch of a modest two-story, Arlecchino stood under the flickering light, dragging on a cigarette. Her pale hair was tied up, her leather jacket creaked when she shifted her weight. In her other hand: a folded newspaper, more out of habit than interest.
Footsteps on stone. Soft. Hesitant.
"Where do you think you're going, sneaking around like that?"
Collei froze mid-step, the guilt on her face plain as daylight. She turned around slowly, forcing the weakest of smiles.
"March invited me out. Just for a bit."
Arlecchino didn't move. Smoke curled from her lips like dragon breath in the cold.
"Be back before two. And don't make me haul your ass out of bed for deliveries tomorrow."
Collei nodded fast—too fast—before turning and jogging down the driveway.
Her gaze flicked to the side.
There it was. Her car.
The AE86 Trueno sat parked under the sodium lamp, paint dulled by dust and streetlight. Black top, white bottom. No stickers. No flair. Just clean lines and aggressive silence. The Watanabes glinted in the dark—silver lips, jet-black spokes.
She stared a second too long.
Then she turned and disappeared into the night.
Mount Yougou — Ascent
The RB26DETT growled low as Beidou's Skyline R32 rolled to a stop under the bus stop's amber glow. Its twin turbos hissed under the hood, breath hot and impatient. The smell of 100-octane fuel and scorched clutch drifted out into the cool night.
Collei arrived out of breath. March was already there, bouncing on her heels like a kid before a rollercoaster.
Beidou jerked a thumb. "Backseat. Let's move."
The convoy assembled: Beidou's R32 in front, Seele's blood-red Fairlady Z S30 behind, and Pela's blue MR2 W20 pulling up last. Three predators slipping into the shadows of Mount Yougou.
The Skyline roared to life.
Inside the R32, the cabin felt more like a cockpit. Gauges glowed red. The turbo timer beeped once before silencing. The seatbelt barely held Collei as Beidou shifted up into third and took the first curve at speed. No warm-up. No easing in.
Collei gripped the oh-shit handle like her life depended on it. And it kind of did.
"Did you smack your head on a textbook, Collei?!" March shouted from the passenger seat, holding back laughter.
Collei's scream almost drowned out the engine. "I'm not built for this! This is insane!"
Beidou laughed. Hard. "Buckle up. This is real driving."
They hit a long left sweeper. Beidou stabbed the clutch. Slammed the stick from third to second. Blipped the throttle.
RRRRRRP—SSSSHHHHHHHH!
The rear tires broke free, the car pitching sideways into a perfect four-wheel drift. The tail swung out—clean, precise, skimming the guardrail like a brushstroke. Smoke whipped off the rear quarters. The engine howled like a war cry. She countersteered in one fluid motion, throttle dancing under her foot like a pulse.
Collei screamed again, voice cracking.
March groaned. "Shut up and enjoy it!"
But Collei was in shock. Her whole body felt weightless—like gravity didn't apply anymore. Like the car was floating sideways on nothing but nerve and instinct.
This wasn't a rollercoaster. This was freefall.
The Summit
They pulled into the mountaintop lot. Steam hissed from hot rotors. The skyline of Narukami shimmered in the distance, distant and irrelevant. The mountains whispered in the silence left behind.
Beidou flicked the parking brake and stepped out like it was nothing.
Collei collapsed out of the backseat, hands on knees, breathing like she'd just run a triathlon through a war zone.
March raised an eyebrow. "You dying?"
Collei looked up, face ghost-white. "That wasn't driving. That was—" she paused, searching for a word—"That was death, but sideways."
March snorted. "Pussy."
Seele offered a hand. "It's normal to freak out the first time. It's not normal to stay scared."
Beidou stretched, lighting a cigarette. Her grin was all teeth.
"If you can't stomach the passenger seat, don't even dream about racing."
Collei didn't reply. She just stared down the mountain, a quiet resolve creeping into her breathless terror.
Back at the Gas Station
Lyney flicked off the last light, locking the door behind him.
Then—he heard it.
BRAP-BRAP-BRAAAAP!
Two RX-7s screamed past the station, twin turbos singing. One white. One deep purple. Both lowered, aerodynamic, headlights down. The sound of rotaries ripping air apart filled the night.
Lyney's eyes followed the fading taillights as they shot toward Mount Yougou.
"…Never seen those before."
He smirked.
Something was coming.