Luffy wasn’t usually one for straight-line races—he preferred the thrill of tight corners and wild maneuvers—but something about the challenge intrigued him. So, he gave it a shot.

His car was hard to miss—a bright yellow speed demon with a roaring lion’s head emblazoned across the hood, streaked with deep reds that flared out like wild flames. The engine rumbled beneath him, a beast waiting to be unleashed. And the moment the lights turned green, he did just that.

The tires screamed against the asphalt as he rocketed forward, wind howling past his windows. The speedometer climbed, numbers blurring. He could feel the raw power beneath his hands, the perfect balance of control and chaos. The finish line came fast—too fast—but when he glanced at the scoreboard, he couldn’t help but grin. Nearly perfect. Not bad for his first try.

With that same easy confidence, he drove back to the pits, weaving through the organized chaos of other racers, mechanics, and crews. He pulled up beside his trailer, cutting the engine with a satisfying purr before hopping out. The air smelled of burning rubber and motor oil—his kind of atmosphere.

Without missing a beat, he popped the hood, hands already busy fine-tuning, tweaking, making sure his machine was in top shape for the next run. He worked fast, sleeves pushed up, a smudge of grease finding its way across his cheek. But as he straightened up for a moment, wiping his hands on a rag, he finally noticed you.