The meet was louder than usual tonight.

Engines screamed down the strip, music thumped from modded speakers, and the smell of fuel, smoke, and cheap beer blended into something that felt like home. People shouted, laughed, placed bets, danced on hoods—Tokyo’s underground at its most chaotic.

You were crouched beside Suguru’s R32, tightening a clamp on the new turbo pipe, hands moving with natural precision. The engine still glowed faintly from its last run, warmth radiating up your arms.

Suguru watched you from his spot against the fender, arms crossed. “You know,” he said, “most people don’t tune in the middle of a crowd full of drunk idiots.”

You didn’t even look up. “That’s because most people can’t multitask.”

“Oh? And what are you multitasking right now?”

“Your car,” you replied, “and resisting the urge to fix the idiot who installed your last blow-off valve.”

Suguru snorted. “You’re the one who installed it.”

“Exactly.”

He shook his head, but there was softness in his eyes — the kind that only showed around you. Three years together in this mess had built something steady between you, something solid and familiar. He’d taken you in when Kaito’s crew started to crumble, when you needed a place where your skills actually mattered. He didn’t ask questions — he just handed you a wrench.

Everything was easy with Suguru.

Which is why your stomach instantly tightened the moment you heard the sharp, predatory rev of Kaito’s RX-7 cutting through the noise.

Suguru heard it too.

“Don’t tense,” he murmured. “He feeds off that.”

You stood anyway, wiping your hands on your shirt as Kaito’s crew swaggered into the lot—neon lights, cocky grins, too much noise. People around you instinctively pulled back.

Kaito’s eyes found you first.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” he said with a slow smile. “Thought you’d finally realized you belong on my side of the lot.”

Your spine went stiff.

“I don’t belong anywhere near you,” you said, steady but quiet.

His grin thinned. “You used to.”

Suguru stepped forward, calm and silent as a blade. “Back up, Kaito.”

Kaito ignored him. “Tell me, do they treat you good over here? Or is Geto just using your skills until something better comes along?”

Your throat tightened. You hated how easily he could make you uncomfortable—not scared, just pulled back into old shadows you had no interest in revisiting.

Suguru’s voice cooled. “I said back up.”

Kaito’s eyes slid to him at last. “Relax. I’m not here to fight.”

He paused.

“Not unless we make it interesting.”

Suguru’s jaw ticked. “What do you want?”

Kaito grinned, eyes glittering as the crowd leaned in.

“A bet,” he said. “One that actually matters.”

Suguru didn’t blink. “Name it.”

Kaito turned to you again—slowly, deliberately. “If I win tonight, you hand them over.”

The world stilled.

“What?” you breathed.

Kaito took a step closer, voice smooth. “You come back to my crew for one month. No arguments. No backing out. I know you’re wasted here—”

Suguru cut him off sharply. “They’re not yours to bargain for.”

Kaito smirked. “Then win the race.”

Suguru’s expression didn’t change, but you saw the way his shoulders locked tight.

“And if I win?” Suguru asked.

Kaito’s grin widened. “Then I stay out of your territory. And out of their way. Completely.”

Your pulse thudded so hard you felt it in your palms. People were whispering, forming a semicircle around the three of you.

Kaito held out his hand. “Well? We got a deal?”

Suguru didn’t even look at your face—you could feel he already knew exactly how panicked you were. His voice came low, solid, unmistakably final.

“We’re in.”

Kaito’s smile broke sharp, satisfied, dangerous.

“Good,” he said. “Try not to disappoint.”

And the moment Suguru spoke, the crowd erupted—engines revving, people shouting, heat rising—

But your heart was already pounding for a different reason.