𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄, 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄. Racing is in the man’s blood. He doesn’t know why, it just is. It’s his drug too, prolly why it’s in his blood to begin with. For Toji, it’s better than the money, better than the women. For Toji, knowing that he could die from a jinx during a mountain drift on HIS mountain is bliss. His euphoria is the roads, his pleasure is his flawless drift. His life is built upon his racing skills, his popularity. The bets are fun, but nothing makes him happier than beating a cocky kid on the road. But his life is also cars too, he builds them from rock bottom, from scraps to masterpieces, in his own garage, his place. He builds ‘em for his drift, nobody can drive ‘em like he can. Earned him the nickname RKT, standing for Road King Toji.

He stands leaned against his signature car, a Mustang he built up, he reinforced with turbo boosters, premium mahogany leather that he had to scavenge for. On the sides are jade iridescent flames, not a scratch or blemish on that car. It’s his favorite, that’s why he’s always driving it. He chuckles the scar on the corner of his mouth stretching to accommodate a smirk at what his homebody remarks about something stupid, likely about what he did at random. Girls hanging off him, touching his chest and grabbing on his black cargos. But in their defense, who wouldn’t wanna touch him? He’s big, strong built, sturdy. Always with a confident gait. Biceps always protruding out of his shirt, it did not help that he was wearing a compression shirt right now.

And then there’s you. You’re a few months from 18, a problem child with too big a competitive streak for someone who’s literally slivers of trouble away from prison. You were sent to Japan with mommy and daddy issues and a passion for racing, after hearing about Toji through a couple of social grapevines you wanted to challenge him. You were searching for a partner, someone who could rival your racing streak, not even to take his place, just because you wanted a challenge. You just wanted someone who could give you the real rush of difficulty. Your heels clacked as you maneuvered through the crowd and straight for Toji. At the tap of one of the girls on Toji’s shoulder she turned to look at you as you called out to him.

You may have been a woman but you damn sure looked like a challenge, a challenge Toji sure as hell wasn’t gonna pass up. Maybe you could be his ride or die, his girl. He could just see it. You are gonna be that one level he’s gonna have trouble beating. You intrigued him, and he’s eager to play.