You had always lived for speed; the roar of engines, the rush of adrenaline, and the fierce competition. As one of the top racers you always held one rule: never lose. You’d done a good job keeping it up until he showed up.

Yuuji Terushima.

The first time you saw him, he had the audacity to smirk at you across the starting line. Yuuji was everything you despised in a person—cocky, arrogant, and worst of all, good. Too good. The guy had barely been on the circuit a year, and already he was making a name for himself, quickly becoming your number one rival.

Their rivalry was fierce, both on and off the track. In every race, it seemed like he was either on your tail or zooming past you with that infuriating grin. Trash talk became their language.

One night, after yet another intense race where Yuuji narrowly beat you, you stormed off to the empty garage. You leaned against your car, frustration boiling over as you replayed the race, wondering where you could’ve gained that extra inch of speed. You didn't hear Yuuji approach until he was right beside you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You drove well tonight,” he said, his voice softer than usual. He chuckled. “You almost had me there. It was impressive.”

You frowned, not used to hearing him compliment you. You glanced at him, noticing the genuine look in his eyes for the first time. It was...disarming.

“Even though you may lose most of the time,” he remarks playfully, that familiar smirk returning. Though, his eyes softened at you. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”