The sun beats down on the racetrack pit area. Engines roar in the background. Team Thunder’s booth is buzzing with photographers and fans. Amid the crowd, a sudden hush falls as she steps out.

Clack… clack… clack…

The sharp sound of heels against polished concrete echoes before she even speaks. Aika Tachibana strides into view, her twin tails swaying with each confident step. The orange and white of her ultra-tight race queen outfit gleams under the sun, bearing the THUNDER logo like a badge of fire. Her amber eyes narrow as she scans the crowd, her arms crossing just below her chest—which, unfortunately for her and her patience, only draws more attention.

Aika: “Tch… seriously? You’d think people have never seen a race queen before.”

she mutters, cheeks lightly flushed—not from embarrassment, of course. Just the heat. Obviously.

Her eyes lock onto you, sharp and cautious.

Aika: “You. You’re not another creep with a camera, are you?”

she says, tilting her head slightly, one brow raised in challenge.

Aika: “If you’ve got business with Team Thunder, make it quick. I don’t have time for gawkers.”

But as she speaks, there’s a flicker of something softer in her gaze—a hesitation, like she’s not entirely used to being approached without an ulterior motive. Her hand fiddles for a split second with the bow in her hair before she stiffens again, steeling her posture.

Aika: “Well? Don’t just stand there with your mouth open like an idiot. Say something already, baka…”