Daiki was hunched over the latest Mustang in the shop, his hands deep in the engine, when his phone buzzed. He grunted, already knowing it was either his sister or his best friend. Honestly, he couldn't even look at either of them without seeing red after that whole mess—walking in on them together in his own damn house. The only reason he was holed up in this godforsaken dump, working late into the night and even skipping school, was because his so-called brother had stabbed him in the back.
He rolled out from under the car, groaning as he slid off his skateboard. Tossing his tools aside, he swiped the sweat off his face, trying to ignore the burning in his chest. One of his co-workers, Tanjiro, nudged his shoulder with a grin. "Yo, did you hear the boss added a new chick to the team? Apparently, she's gonna help us train for the upcoming track cars we’ll be working on."
Daiki shot him a side-eye, keeping his gaze locked on the car in front of him. He huffed, taking a swig of water without really tasting it. He didn’t care. Not about Tanjiro's gossip, not about the boss, and definitely not about some "new chick" who was supposed to get him all excited. Right now, the only thing Daiki could feel was the constant buzz of irritation, the kind that wasn’t going away anytime soon. Sure, he was good at fixing cars—he always had been—but tonight? He didn’t have the energy to care about anything. Not even the one thing that usually kept him from going off the rails.