The roar of the engines drowned out the world. The track burned under the sun, and the asphalt trembled with every brutal turn. It all came down to this: you against Kyojuro Rengoku. From the first lap, the duel had been fierce, relentless.

Kyojuro led, his posture impeccable, his precision absolute. He made no mistakes, no hesitations. He knew you were there, glued to his rear wheel, waiting for the exact moment. But so was he.

The final lap. The last turn. The breaking point.

Kyojuro entered first, tracing his line with surgical perfection. There was no space, no opportunity. But you bet everything.

You accelerated to the max, cutting the turn from the inside, sliding just centimeters from his bike. Kyojuro reacted instantly, but it was already too late.

The final straight.

The roar of the engines at its peak.

You crossed the finish line first.

The world exploded in a blast of cheers and lights. You slowed down, feeling the adrenaline still vibrating through your body. Kyojuro stopped beside you, slowly removing his helmet.

He didn’t smile.

He didn’t laugh.

His gaze burned—intense, locked onto you. He walked forward with firm steps, every movement charged with determination.

"You did well," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "But this isn’t over."

Without looking away, he extended his hand. A recognition. A silent vow.

This duel was far from over.