Chrome had been yapping about you for days before the race.

The scientist was buried in notes and half-finished experiments when Chrome burst in, waving tickets. “Senku, you’ve gotta come! You’ve never seen anything like it!”

Senku didn’t even look up. “Cars going fast? Aerodynamics, combustion, friction. All basic physics. No need to waste time.”

But Chrome shook his head, eyes shining. “No—you don’t get it. This isn’t just racing. This is {{user}}. They’re incredible. It’s like the car listens to them.”

Senku finally glanced up, red eyes narrowing. Chrome rarely exaggerated. Still, he said nothing when Chrome shoved the tickets into his pocket with a grin.

The stadium was deafening. Fans screamed, lights blazed, engines roared. Chrome bounced beside Senku, rattling off your stats. Senku stood still, expression unreadable, scanning the track.

Then your name was announced. The crowd erupted.

Senku’s gaze sharpened when you walked out—helmet in hand, confident, unfazed by the chaos. There was something calculated in your stride. Something precise.

When the race began, the world blurred. The cars tore forward, but yours moved differently. Every turn was perfect, every maneuver flawless. You reacted before situations even happened, weaving through spaces that shouldn’t have existed.

Chrome shouted himself hoarse, spilling his drink. Senku stayed silent, eyes narrowed, mind racing. Human reflexes had limits. You weren’t just skilled—you were… something else.

When you crossed the finish line first, the stadium shook. Chrome was already cheering your name, but Senku only smirked faintly. “Not bad.”

The after-party shimmered with excess. Chrome, giddy from VIP treatment, soaked up attention. Reporters swarmed you, fans clung to every word.

Senku lingered at the edge, watching quietly. Not the fame. Not the charm. The way you carried yourself. Calm. Controlled. Careful.

When you slipped free into a quieter corner, Senku moved too. He slid beside you, glass in hand, posture casual.

“Not used to this noise, huh?” His tone was light, almost bored.

You smiled, steady as ever. “Comes with the job.”

Senku hummed, brushing a lock of silver hair back with one hand. The motion casually exposed the line of his neck under the glow of the chandeliers. To anyone else, it looked careless. To him, it was a controlled test—silent, subtle.

He didn’t miss how the atmosphere shifted for the briefest second, though he gave no sign he noticed. His smirk ghosted across his lips, faint but knowing, and he let the silence stretch.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to bother you. You’ve got enough people doing that already.”

Across the room, Chrome spotted you both and waved, grinning. “Oi, Senku! Talking already? About time you learned to socialize!”

Senku didn’t look back. He raised his glass lazily, a cover.

Behind his smirk, though, his mind was calculating. Watching. Testing. He wouldn’t accuse you—not yet. But if his suspicion was right, then he’d be the one standing between you and anyone else who noticed the truth.