Wednesday.
It was a clear autumn day.
Today marked the Hakone Turnpike Uphill Time Trial event.
Only a designated section of Hakone Pass was closed for the occasion. The course began at the toll gate and stretched uphill all the way to the Sky Lounge.
The Hakone Turnpike Event existed to give tuners and racers a rare chance to push their machines on real public mountain roads—legally. And thanks to its popularity, it had grown into something far bigger than anyone had anticipated.
The event was being streamed live across social media platforms, YouTube, and even televised nationwide.
Dozens of cars lined up behind the starting line at the Anest Iwata Turnpike Hakone Road, just before the toll gate. Tires squealed as engines screamed—one by one, cars launched hard off the line and disappeared uphill, beginning their timed ascents.
Marshals stood stationed at every technical corner. At downhill run-off zones, sand pits lay in wait—designed to stop cars whose brakes failed under the relentless climb. Nearby, ambulances and fire trucks stood ready, engines idling.
Agnes Tachyon, Special Week, Manhattan Café, Tokai Teio, and King Halo walked casually toward a rest area just before the toll gate.
Given how publicized—and how unique—the event was, all of them had chosen to wear their G1 racing outfits.
Café couldn't help herself. A small laugh slipped out as she shook her head.
"I still can't believe you wear that oversized lab coat, Tachyon. You even kept the test tubes."
Tachyon chuckled.
"Hah! I'm never getting rid of it. It's what identifies me on the URA tracks, after all."
Special Week nodded enthusiastically.
"She's right, Café-san. She's still an undefeated Uma—thirteen wins out of thirteen races before announcing her hiatus."
Café nodded, glancing at Special Week before looking back at Tachyon.
"I know that. It's just funny that you still wear it even though you've got a sweater underneath."
She tilted her head slightly.
"Seriously—aren't you hot under there?"
Tachyon shook her head.
"It's autumn. And besides… I said part of me has changed. I can still act like a mad scientist if I want to."
She paused, smirking faintly.
"Though I'll admit—it does get old."
Café nodded.
"Fair enough."
King Halo had remained silent, her sharp eyes scanning the lineup of cars queued behind the toll booth.
Then she glanced toward Teio.
"Any idea where Maruzen and Suzuka are?"
Teio shrugged.
"No clue. They left Tokyo early to secure a better position. They're probably further up front."
Special Week suddenly pointed ahead.
"Ah—there! Suzuka and Maruzensky!"
Ahead of them stood Maruzensky's red Lamborghini Countach.
Parked just behind it was Silence Suzuka's NSX.
And between the two cars stood Maruzensky and Suzuka themselves—currently being interviewed by a reporter, a cameraman beside them broadcasting the scene live to viewers across the country.
"Maruzensky, it's great to have you back."
Maruzensky nodded confidently.
The interviewer continued,
"So—you're back not just as an entrant, but also as the defending Time Trial Champion from last autumn. How does it feel to return?"
Maruzensky glanced around briefly at the course, the lined-up cars, the cameras—then looked back at the reporter.
"It feels great to be back. And the pressure's definitely on this year to make it back-to-back."
The reporter pulled the microphone back toward himself.
"And of course, this marks the fifth attempt for the Emperor to finally take the podium."
The mic returned to Maruzensky.
"Do you think she'll be able to do it this time?"
Maruzensky nodded without hesitation.
"I think she has a very good chance. We ran into her during a practice session here a few days ago. From what I saw—she's got what it takes."
The reporter nodded, then turned toward Silence Suzuka.
"Suzuka-san, it's great to have you back as well. How was the Goodwood event this year?"
He held the microphone toward her.
Suzuka nodded, offering a small, composed smile.
"Goodwood was wonderful this year. And I'm always grateful to McLaren for allowing me to drive their classic Formula One cars."
The reporter drew the mic back again.
"And speaking of classic McLaren Formula One machines—there's been a lot of speculation in the car community. Many say your driving technique closely resembles that of the late, great Ayrton Senna. What are your thoughts?"
Suzuka let out a soft chuckle.
"I think it's just a coincidence that parts of my driving style resemble Senna-san's."
The reporter bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Suzuka-san. Maruzensky-san. Best of luck to you both today."
Both Uma bowed in return as the reporter moved on, searching for his next interview.
Maruzensky smirked, glancing at Suzuka.
"That went well."
Suzuka nodded calmly.
"We came prepared for the press, Maruzen. Just like a race course—only this time, with microphones instead of corners."
Maruzensky nodded.
"That's true."
Moments later, the others finally reached them—Agnes Tachyon, Manhattan Café, King Halo, Special Week, and Tokai Teio.
Teio lifted a hand in greeting.
"Hey, hey! Maruzen! Suzuka-san!"
Both turned toward the group.
Maruzensky smiled brightly and gave a playful wink.
"Hey there! Great to see all of you here."
Suzuka nodded.
"Thank you for coming. We appreciate the support."
Tachyon crossed her arms, nodding once.
"Anything for fellow Umas."
Her gaze drifted over their outfits.
"So—you two are running the event in your G1 race attire as well?"
Suzuka nodded.
"Yeah. We're treating this like a G1. There's a wide range of competition today—supercars, exotics, all of it."
Maruzensky nodded in agreement.
"That's right."
She suddenly struck a quick, flashy pose.
"And of course—presentation matters."
Suzuka gently bumped her with an elbow.
"Alright, alright."
Suzuka turned her head to the left, eyes scanning the remaining cars lined up behind them.
Then her gaze narrowed.
There it was.
The green Ferrari F40.
"…Not surprised the Emperor's F40 is here too," Suzuka said quietly.
Maruzensky raised an eyebrow.
"Huh?"
She turned to Suzuka's side, following her line of sight. The others—Tachyon, Teio, Café, King Halo, and Special Week—did the same.
Maruzensky blinked once.
"Oh yeah…"
A faint smirk tugged at her lips.
"And she's last."
King Halo narrowed her eyes.
"You think she'll dominate this year's event?"
Maruzensky's eyebrows lowered slightly as she side-eyed Halo.
"From what we saw a couple of days ago?"
She nodded once.
"Yeah… she's going to dominate this event."
Tachyon raised an eyebrow.
"You're that sure?"
Maruzensky nodded without hesitation.
"Yes. I'm sure."
Halo crossed her arms.
"Mind if we take a look before your runs? Doesn't look like she's around at all."
Suzuka nodded.
"Sure. Why not—before our runs."
The group moved together toward the back of the pack.
When they reached the car, it stood alone.
No driver in sight.
King Halo stopped directly in front of the F40's front-left corner, studying it closely.
"So… this is the Emperor's F40."
Café nodded.
"Yeah… it is."
Tachyon leaned closer, peering through the side window into the cockpit.
"This thing is really track-focused. No door cards at all."
She lightly tapped the window with a knuckle.
"And this window…"
Her eyes traced the edge of the Lexan panel before spotting the slider.
"…It doesn't even have a proper glass window. Just a sliding Lexan panel."
Teio, meanwhile, remained oddly quiet.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the paint.
"This shade of green looks… familiar."
Suzuka raised an eyebrow.
"Huh?"
Teio pointed at the bodywork.
"This green—it's really close to Kaichou's FB RX-7. The same shade."
Maruzensky blinked, thinking.
"She's suspicious just from the paint…?"
She shook her head, speaking aloud.
"Could just be a coincidence. Plenty of cars come in green."
Suzuka nodded.
"Could also be the lighting."
Teio glanced back at Suzuka.
"Fair point. The lighting might just make it pop more."
Café chimed in from the rear of the car.
"Could be Verde Jewel. A factory Ferrari color."
Teio nodded.
"Maybe."
She looked back at the F40, eyes lingering.
"It's a beautiful metallic green, though."
She leaned closer, peeking inside.
"…Whoa. It's got four-point harnesses."
Then her eyes widened.
"Guys—look at the seats."
Suzuka, Café, Tachyon, Halo, and Special Week gathered around Teio, leaning in to look.
Maruzensky stayed back.
She already knew who owned this car.
And she wasn't saying a word.
Café leaned closer to the window.
"…Tan bucket seats."
Special Week turned to her.
"How rare is that, Café-san?"
Café swallowed.
"If those came like that from the factory…"
She paused.
"Then extremely rare."
She moved toward the rear hatch.
"And considering the rear section looks like it's sourced from a genuine F40 LM…"
She stepped back, crouching slightly to study the side profile.
"Suspension, wheels, engine components, front splitter—those are LM parts too."
She stood up, hands on her hips, shaking her head.
"I don't know…"
Tachyon turned toward her.
"But wouldn't all those aftermarket parts hurt the value?"
Café shook her head.
"No. Not for a car like this."
She continued,
"You don't throw away the original parts—and even modified, cars like this only climb in value over time."
She looked back at the F40.
"Especially this one."
Right on cue, one of the event staff approached Maruzensky.
"Maruzen-san. It's time for your run."
Maruzensky turned toward him and flashed a confident grin, raising both thumbs.
"Alrighty!"
She then turned back to the group.
"Okay guys. I'm off."
Suzuka nodded, calm but sincere.
"Best of luck out there, Maruzen-san."
Maruzensky returned the nod.
"You too, Suzuka."
She walked back toward the front of the grid.
Reaching the Countach, she grabbed the left scissor door handle. With a smooth motion, the door lifted upward, revealing the cockpit beneath.
Maruzensky lowered herself in, sliding her legs past the wide sill before pulling the door down. It shut with a solid, mechanical thud.
She reached over her shoulder, pulling the harness forward.
Click.
Then the other strap.
Click.
She tightened the lap belt, tugging firmly until the harness sat snug against her chest.
Her right hand reached for the ignition key.
She paused.
Eyes closed.
The noise of the event faded away.
Then—
Her eyes snapped open, sharp and focused.
She twisted the key.
The twin-turbo 5.2-liter V12 exploded into life, its roar echoing off the surrounding mountains. The idle settled into a deep, aggressive growl as the turbos whined faintly beneath it.
A marshal stepped forward and motioned for her to advance.
Maruzensky pressed the clutch in, engaged first gear, and eased the Countach forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then the marshal crossed both arms.
Stop.
He stepped back.
The starting lights illuminated.
Clutch in.
First gear.
Maruzensky fed in the throttle, RPMs climbing steadily.
The turbos began to spool.
One red light.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Two red lights.
The engine note sharpened.
Three red lights.
Then—
Green.
She buried her right foot.
The clutch came up fast.
The rear tires broke loose instantly, shrieking as the Countach lunged forward. Smoke poured off the line as the car rocketed ahead.
Her run had begun.
As speed built, the rear tires clawed for grip and found it.
Second gear.
A sharp lift—bang—flames spat from the exhaust as she got back on the throttle.
The rear stepped out for a split second before settling.
Third gear.
The road flattened briefly.
The Countach crested the rise—and lifted.
For a heartbeat, all four wheels left the ground.
Then it slammed back down.
Sparks erupted as the underside kissed the asphalt, the suspension compressing hard before rebounding. The car stayed planted, charging forward as if nothing had happened.
Ahead.
A left-hander.
Maruzensky hit the brakes hard.
The nose dipped.
She turned in.
Back on the throttle.
The run continued.
—
Back at the start area, the group gathered near a television feed mounted by the restrooms.
The footage showed an onboard camera mounted between the driver and passenger seats.
Maruzensky filled the screen—hands working the wheel, feet dancing between pedals, the Countach screaming its way uphill.
Displayed on the timing board beneath the feed:
Current fastest time:
Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX – 3:10
She was hunting it.
And she wasn't holding back.
Then—
Her Sector One time appeared on the screen.
Purple.
Two seconds faster than the previous fastest sector.
King Halo shivered slightly.
"Jeez… Maruzen-san is really going flat out…"
Suzuka nodded calmly.
"That's Maruzen's style. Either she's flat out—"
A faint smile formed on her lips.
"—or she's not giving it her all."
Suzuka let out a soft chuckle.
"That's why street racers call her the Lead Foot Queen."
—
Up the course, Maruzensky charged onward.
She crossed the halfway point.
Sector Two time flashed up.
Eight seconds faster than the previous best.
The Countach thundered into another uphill section.
As she reached the top, the slope flattened, feeding directly into a medium-speed right-hander.
Maruzensky slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel right.
The nose dropped.
The rear lifted.
The rear tires broke traction.
The Countach stepped sideways.
She instinctively buried the throttle, snapping into countersteer to catch the slide.
The rear regained grip violently, snapping back into line.
Control restored.
Maruzensky's eyebrow twitched.
"Shit… lost time there."
She pressed on.
A banked left-hander approached.
She attacked it harder than before, committing fully.
It was the final sector.
An uphill stretch.
The finish line sat just past a crest—slightly left.
Third gear.
Fourth.
Boost surged.
The V12 howled.
166 km/h.
248 km/h.
The Countach rocketed toward the crest.
Then—
Hard on the brakes.
Speed bled off violently.
She hit the crest.
All four wheels left the ground.
For an instant, the Countach flew.
Then it slammed back down.
The suspension compressed hard as the checkered flag waved.
Her run was complete.
Maruzensky eased off, slowing to a walking pace as she followed the exit road.
She rolled toward the Sky Lounge and stopped beside a waiting marshal.
She lowered the small window open and leaned toward it, shoulders slouching slightly from the adrenaline dump.
The marshal crouched beside the door.
"Maruzensky—you set a perfect lap. Three minutes dead. Nice!"
He handed her a small slip of paper.
Her lap time.
Sector splits.
And the difference versus the previous record.
Maruzensky took it and nodded, closing the window afterward.
She glanced down at the numbers.
Then nodded once more.
"Not bad at all, Maruzensky… not bad."
She eased back onto the throttle, turning right.
The Countach rolled along the road circling the lake, heading toward National Route One—
And back toward the Anest Iwata Turnpike Hakone Road.
Back at the base of the mountain—
The group stood frozen, eyes locked on the large screen.
Tachyon blinked slowly.
"…Damn. Maruzensky really went all out."
Cafe nodded.
"Yeah. New event record."
—
Another engine roared to life.
They all turned toward the starting line.
Suzuka's NA1 NSX sat there, idling steadily.
Inside the cockpit, Suzuka pulled hard on her harness straps, tightening them snug against her shoulders.
Special Week suddenly broke into a run toward the passenger side.
King Halo reached out instinctively.
"S—Spe!?"
Too late.
Special Week reached the car and knocked on the Lexan window.
Suzuka glanced over and lowered it slightly, leaning left.
"Spe?"
Special Week clenched her fist, eyes bright.
"Good luck, Suzuka-san!"
Suzuka smiled softly and nodded.
"Thank you, Spe."
Special Week nodded back and gently patted the roof of the NSX before jogging away.
King Halo let out a sharp sigh.
"Spe-chan… what was that for?"
Special Week bowed slightly.
"S-Sorry, Halo-san. I just wanted to wish Suzuka-san good luck."
King Halo shook her head.
"Please tell us before you suddenly run off like that."
Special Week scratched the back of her head.
"S-Sorry, Halo-san…"
—
Suzuka's NSX rolled forward slowly.
The marshal stepped into view and crossed both arms.
Suzuka stopped.
Handbrake up.
She waited.
Her eyes narrowed.
Her grip tightened around the steering wheel.
One light.
She pressed the throttle.
The revs climbed.
Two lights.
Three lights.
Her foot slammed to the floor.
RPMs surged.
Two-step launch engaged.
The engine snapped and crackled.
Revs locked at 7,000 RPM.
BANG—POP—POP.
Flames burst from the exhaust.
Tachyon, Special Week, King Halo, and Cafe all flinched instinctively, hands flying up to cover their ears.
Suzuka didn't blink.
Her focus never left the lights.
Then—
Green light.
Suzuka snapped the handbrake down and dumped the clutch.
The rear wheels broke traction instantly as the NSX launched forward.
The engine screamed—
8,500 RPM.
The tires bit hard as Suzuka slammed into second gear.
BANG—
Flames spat from the exhaust as the rear tires chirped briefly, struggling for grip.
Then the car surged forward.
Hard.
Within seconds, the NSX vanished from sight—
but the sound of the 3.1-liter stroked, supercharged C30A V6 continued to echo violently through the uphill section.
—
Tachyon was the first to lower her hands.
Her ears twitched upright again.
"…Holy shit. I didn't expect Suzuka's car to do that."
Cafe soon followed, shaking her head.
"Neither did I."
Special Week looked up at Cafe, concern written all over her face.
"I-Is that bad for Suzuka-san's engine?"
Cafe shook her head calmly.
"Not at all."
She glanced at Special Week.
"That's called two-step launch control—or just launch control. It limits the RPM at launch to the engine's optimal power or torque band. It gives maximum acceleration without overloading the drivetrain."
Special Week blinked.
"O-Oh…"
—
Silence Suzuka carved through the course.
Her Sector One time flashed onto the screen.
Purple.
Eight tenths faster than Maruzensky.
Suzuka pushed harder.
She entered a long straight.
The speedometer pegged at 180 km/h—
—but she was going far faster.
She crested a small rise.
The NSX lifted.
Rear dipped.
Front rose.
Then—
SLAM.
All four wheels hit the ground hard.
Sparks erupted as the underchassis scraped the asphalt.
She charged into a slight right.
Then a wide left.
Hard on the brakes.
Heel-and-toe—
Fifth. Fourth. Third.
The NSX turned in.
Suzuka blipped the throttle rhythmically.
The rear stepped out—
just enough.
The corner tightened.
She spotted the exit apex.
Foot down.
The rear loosened.
The car slid—
—but Suzuka never countersteered.
A perfect four-wheel drift.
The rear right quarter panel passed within inches of the guardrail.
Suzuka glanced left.
Unfazed.
—
Sector Two.
One full second faster than Maruzensky.
—
The finish approached.
Flat out.
Then—
Checkered flag.
Final time:
2:58.6
A new record.
Sector Three flashed purple—
putting Suzuka 1.4 seconds faster than Maruzensky overall.
Back at the base.
Special Week shot a fist into the air.
"Let's go, Suzuka-san!"
They all stood before the television screen, eyes locked onto the onboard live feed.
Tachyon blinked slowly.
"She really does have Senna's style…"
Cafe chuckled softly.
"See? Told you."
Tachyon nodded, eyes never leaving the screen.
"It's incredible… her handwork on the wheel."
She shook her head in disbelief.
"A-And her rhythm when blipping the throttle… it's insane."
King Halo lowered her head slightly.
"And the craziest part is—her driving isn't even inspired by Senna. It's just a coincidence they share the same style."
Cafe nodded, folding her arms.
"Exactly."
—
Time passed.
One by one, cars disappeared from the starting line.
As the day reached its peak, only one remained.
The Emperor's Ferrari F40.
The group—now reunited with Maruzensky and Silence Suzuka—stood at a distance as the green F40 rolled to a stop beneath the toll gate.
King Halo glanced at Maruzensky.
"Is it normal for the Emperor to run last?"
Maruzensky shook her head.
"No."
Her eyes remained fixed on the F40.
"It's random. Sometimes she runs first. Sometimes in the middle. Sometimes at the back."
—
Inside the Ferrari.
The Emperor glanced at her rearview mirror.
A smirk formed.
"I'm not holding back anymore, Maruzensky…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Today… I'm taking the top step."
She built the revs.
The Tubi titanium exhaust wailed—the raw, violent scream of an F40 LM–tuned flat-plane V8.
One light.
Two.
The engine slammed into redline.
Three.
Green.
The F40 launched forward.
Tires screeched as the engine bounced off the limiter.
Then—
Grip.
Second gear.
The flat-plane V8 echoed violently through the concrete walls of the pass.
Maruzensky grinned widely.
King Halo raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you smiling, Maruzen?"
Maruzensky laughed softly.
"Because—"
She gestured toward the empty toll gate.
"You don't see an F40 do a power launch every day."
Suzuka nodded.
"Mhm. A car with that kind of value… most people would baby it."
Maruzensky raised a finger.
"Exactly. There's a saying."
She cleared her throat.
"Cars are meant to be driven—
not locked away in private collections like art pieces."
—
The F40 tore through the opening sections.
Sparks erupted as the rear bottomed out, striking the titanium skid plate mounted at the lowest point of the chassis.
The Emperor was pushing the car beyond its limits.
Every corner—tires screaming.
Tighter bends—
four-wheel drifts.
Every crest—
The F40 took flight.
Sector One: Purple.
Sector Two: Purple.
Three seconds faster.
Then five.
The commentators lost their composure.
The feed shook with excitement.
Tachyon.
Suzuka.
Teio.
Maruzensky.
Special Week.
Cafe.
King Halo.
All watched in stunned silence.
The clock ticked.
And ticked.
Final straight.
230 km/h.
240 km/h.
250 km/h.
The leftward crest loomed.
Hard on the brakes.
A slight steer toward the apex.
The left front locked—just for an instant.
The F40 lifted.
Then—
SLAM.
Back to earth.
Run complete.
—
Maruzensky's jaw dropped.
A new all-time event record.
Two minutes.
Fifty seconds.
Dead.
The four-year fourth-place "curse"—
was over.
But only one question remained.
Apart from Maruzensky…
who was behind the wheel?