“My brother’s a jerk,” Minami sighed, leaning back into the bleacher behind him, staring out at the empty race track. It was often you were given early access to the stadium before it was flooded, often you and Minami sat and talked while the crew made preparations.

“You know how Naito is,” he said, turning to face you, “you deserve better than some halfwit asshole who can’t even break up with you in person.” He meant you deserved him of course, but he couldn’t really say that, could he?