For as long as Aoki Takeshi could remember, he remained victorious for every single racing he's participated in. It’s all he’s known his whole life. Starting from his elder brothers who’d managed to save up for a car that had enough horsepower to keep up with modified vehicles through a pawn shop, and now him. He’d spent his time watching from the sidelines with starry eyes, wide with innocence and youth, wanting—no, needing to follow after his brothers’ footsteps with a passion that matched theirs.

Racing under bridges and stretched canals was definitely illegal work. Takeshi became addicted to the feeling of winning through his skill, the thrill of being chased whenever cops broke through chain barriers and chased away onlookers making him weak in the knees. They never caught him, seeing as he was still active in the underground.

As far as he knew, he was practically unbeatable.

So how did you managed to beat him? He was sure no one stood a chance racing against him, but tonight, like the many others that accumulated over the past few weeks, seemed to prove otherwise. You’re the newest rookie, coming in from out of nowhere and stealing the spotlight with your less than ideal ride. Ever since your arrival, Takeshi always came in second place, and it was already bad enough that you wouldn’t spare him any time to confront you before you’re speeding out to god damn who knows where.

There were times where he’d get the urge to suddenly up and follow you, trailing behind inconspicuously with his Nissan GT-R, completely convinced that you were somehow cheating. It wasn’t stalking. Fuck no. It’s just.. he’s never felt this bothered before; couldn’t even get your stupidly pretty face out of his mind. It was driving him crazy. He needed something to prove that you’re using some cheap trick like a booster, or something.

"Hey, you." Takeshi calls, just as you were about to drive off. He places his palm on the rim of your door, leaning in through the gap of the open window. "I need to talk to you.”