As night draped over the quiet edges of Inazuma, the soft hum of fluorescents flickered against the gas station's canopy, casting long blue-tinted shadows across the pavement. The AE86 sat under the neon glow like a coiled spring, its polished white panels catching the shifting light and scattering reflections across the tarmac in fleeting waves. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of motor oil and distant pine.
Collei leaned against the Eight-Six's door, arms crossed, her eyes distant beneath the faint glint of the station signage. The stiffness in her shoulders hadn't faded since her last run—her thoughts haunted by the sensation of lost control and the way the rear had twitched under her, slipping wide in a way the car never used to. It wasn't just the car. It was her.
Gravel crunched under a steady gait. Beidou approached from the shadows behind the pumps, hands in her jacket pockets, her presence always marked by that lazy confidence and the heavy thump of boots.
"How's the Skyline treating you so far, Collei?" Beidou asked, her tone laid-back, but the glint in her eye betrayed genuine interest.
Collei dragged a hand through her hair with a sigh, the motion frustrated, tired. "I don't know, Beidou. This whole AWD complex is confusing the living shit out of me."
Beidou raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "First time spinning out?"
Collei gave a shallow nod. "Yeah. Took a corner in Yougou Pass the wrong way. Came in with my usual rhythm, but it just… pushed. The nose didn't tuck in like I expected. Next thing I know, I'm countersteering a car that doesn't respond like the Eight-Six. It's been screwing with my head ever since."
Suddenly, a burst of energy cut into the tension like a spark. "Come on, Collei! Don't let that get to you!"
March had appeared out of nowhere, bouncing on her toes with a big grin plastered on her face. She threw a fist into the air. "Just drive the way you always do—your way!"
"I'm trying, March, believe me," Collei said, her voice low with doubt. "But driving an AWD has this… this weight to it. It's like I'm battling muscle memory every time I dive into a corner. My feet want to heel-toe, my hands want to pitch the car into oversteer—but the R34 doesn't want to rotate the same way. It pushes until you throw weight into it, and even then, the front diff just drags it out."
Amber stepped into the edge of the circle, arms crossed, her gaze sharp as always. "So, what's the plan now? Aren't you heading out to Asase Pass in Seirai Prefecture soon?"
Collei nodded slowly. "That's the idea. But I called in a friend—someone who knows the Eight-Six as well as I do. Figured I'd get her perspective before heading out."
Amber raised an eyebrow, half-smiling. "Ah. Ayaka, right?"
"Yeah." Collei exhaled. "She gets it. If anyone can help me make sense of all this, it's her."
Amber stepped closer and placed a hand on Collei's shoulder, her grip warm and solid. "Do what you need to do to shake this off. You've got this."
Collei looked up, grateful. Without a word, she pulled Amber into a brief hug. "Thanks, Amber. I really appreciate it."
Then, right on cue, the low, guttural growl of a supercharged inline-four cut through the quiet. The distinctive note was unmistakable—instant throttle response, no lag, just a steady, aggressive pull. A pair of bright headlights flared across the station lot as a silver-and-black Levin eased into view. The engine burbled with that characteristic whine as Ayaka rolled to a stop, parking nose-to-nose with the Eight-Six.
She stepped out in her usual composed fashion—poised, graceful, but there was a competitive sharpness in the way her eyes scanned Collei and the surrounding group.
"Hey, Collei! Come on, hop in!" Ayaka called, waving. "We're heading to Yougou Lake!"
Collei's lips curled into a grin as she gave Amber's head a light pat. "I'll catch you later."
"You bet!" Amber waved back.
Collei climbed into the Levin's passenger seat, the door thunking shut with a tight mechanical click. The moment her seatbelt locked, Ayaka dropped the clutch and rev-matched into first. The Levin's tires gripped clean as they peeled away from the lot and surged into the darkness.
The climb up Yougou Pass was a symphony of calculated aggression. Ayaka gripped the wheel with precision, each corner approached with surgical calm. The supercharger screamed under throttle, that instant boost launching the Levin up the incline like a slingshot. The steering wheel twitched subtly under Ayaka's fingers as the feedback from the road pulsed through the chassis.
They hit a tight left hairpin halfway up. Ayaka downshifted with a flawless heel-toe blip, the tach needle dancing, and stomped hard on the brakes. The Levin's front tires dug in, chassis transferring weight forward. She traced the inside apex with millimeter-perfect control, tires howling briefly before the throttle came back in with a snarl, hurling them out of the corner with all four tires straining for grip.
Collei grinned. "Gotta say, this Levin's got some serious punch coming out of corners."
"That's the supercharger at work," Ayaka said, her hands smooth on the wheel, eyes focused on the next bend. "Linear, immediate, and predictable."
Collei nodded. "Yeah, I've felt that kind of snap before. Clorinde's Lancia hits like a brick wall of torque when that blower kicks in. Instant throttle response—it's brutal on the uphill."
Ayaka smirked. "Last time I dyno'd it, this thing put down 280 horsepower. More than enough for these gradients. Back when I had the turbo setup, it was barely pushing 220. Too laggy. This is cleaner. More responsive."
They crested the final incline as Ayaka feathered the throttle and coasted through the last corner, letting the Levin settle. Moments later, the trees gave way to the shimmering stillness of Yougou Lake.
The water glowed silver beneath the moonlight, each ripple catching starlight like strands of mercury. Crickets sang from the underbrush. The scent of wet stone and lake mist hung in the air.
By the water's edge, the two of them stood quietly for a while, skipping stones across the surface. The soft plink of rock on water echoed between pauses in their conversation.
"You've officially beaten the Kannazuka team and now us," Ayaka said, tossing another stone that skipped six times before sinking. "You're running out of challenges around here."
Collei sipped from a vending machine coffee can, its aluminum still warm in her grip. She smirked. "Well, there's Asase in Seirai Prefecture. Ningguang's already got the logistics set. We're heading out tomorrow."
Ayaka's face darkened a shade. Her next stone slipped from her fingers without spin and plunked into the water with a dull thud. "Seirai, huh? That's shady territory. Real shady. The drivers there?" She exhaled. "The girl's good, I'll give her that. Smooth and tactical. But the guy? He's scum. The kind that rigs a race before it even starts. Watch your back—and bring spare parts."
Collei blinked. "Spare parts?"
"Just a precaution." Ayaka waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not saying they'll wreck you—but sabotage? That wouldn't be out of character."
The words hung in the night air like fog.
Ayaka turned slightly, her tone shifting. "So. What was it you wanted to talk about?"
Collei stood straighter, eyes on the lake. "I wanted to know if you've ever felt held back by the Eight-Six's limitations."
Ayaka didn't answer right away. She looked at her own reflection in the water. "Of course. That's why I went turbo. Then supercharged. I've tried everything to push past the car's natural ceiling. But even now, I wonder if the chassis is just too old. Too heavy. Sometimes I wish I could transplant all of it into a newer shell."
She looked back at Collei. "It's surprising hearing this from you, though. I thought your Eight-Six was practically a goddamn ghost on wheels."
Collei's jaw tightened. "I haven't told anyone this, but… after the rematch with Feiyun, I got passed the next morning. On my home turf."
Ayaka blinked. "What? By who?"
"A Skyline R34." Her voice was low, bitter.
Ayaka frowned. "Figures. AWD with switchable torque split. Heavy, but smart. Controlled aggression."
Collei nodded. "Ever since that night, I've had this itch I can't scratch. I see AWD, and I start doubting myself. It's like a ghost that follows me into every corner."
Ayaka turned, her voice quieter now, but firm. "I get it. But don't let that complex own you. You've beaten 4WD cars before. You just need to remember what made you good in the first place."
Collei exhaled. "That's why I called you. I needed to hear that from someone who gets it."
Ayaka smiled faintly. "Look. Fear isn't weakness. It's fuel. Let it sharpen you. Learn your opponent's car—where it shines, where it breaks—and hit them where it hurts. That's what it means to race beyond your car's specs."
They stood in silence, the wind skimming off the lake in slow, ghostly gusts.
Collei nodded at last. "Thanks, Ayaka. I'll keep that in mind."
Ayaka clapped her gently on the shoulder. "You've got this, Collei. Just keep doing what you do best—outthinking, outdriving."
Collei smiled. "I understand. I'll try to keep that in mind."
Ayaka bent to pick up another stone. She weighed it, feeling the shape, then flicked it across the surface in a smooth, perfect arc. It skipped once. Twice. Five times before sinking.
"That's what I like to hear," she said softly. "Sometimes, your cluelessness is what makes you such a special package, Collei."
Collei laughed under her breath, the sound soft and grateful. She watched the last ripple vanish into the black surface of the lake, the night around them deep and still.
The following afternoon.
The sun hangs high over Narukami, its harsh glare bouncing off every surface like shards of broken glass. Heatwaves ripple off the asphalt outside Arlecchino's house, distorting the edges of reality in a way that feels almost symbolic. Collei steps out the front door, one gloved hand shielding her eyes from the midday burn, and there it is—the R34, crouched in the driveway like a dormant predator, its pearl white paintwork throwing off a mirror sheen.
She pauses. Staring.
There's a reverent silence in the air, broken only by the distant whir of cicadas and the faint ticking of the house's outdoor AC unit.
Her boots crunch slowly over the gravel as she approaches the Skyline. Each step feels heavier than the last, the weight of recent memories clinging to her like oil-soaked smoke. The same car that passed her on Mount Yougou. The same one that buried an invisible knife into her confidence, twisted it until every corner felt wrong, like her instincts had betrayed her.
She reaches out and places her hand on the hood. The metal is warm—sun-soaked and stubborn. The curve of it runs beneath her fingers like muscle under skin. Taut. Refined. Dangerous.
"The strengths and weaknesses of a car that drives all four wheels… AWD or 4WD," she murmurs, voice low, almost like a confession. Her palm lingers, dragging across the hood, slow and contemplative.
She straightens up, the sun catching her green eyes as they narrow into slits of focused defiance.
"Ayaka's right. Last year, I was driving my damndest without really understanding things like this." She snorts under her breath, shaking her head. "If ignorance were a scale, I'd give myself a solid 6.5 out of 10."
The smirk fades as quickly as it appeared. Her jaw sets.
"At least now I know more about cars like these. All I have to do is remember what Ayaka said: 'Learn its advantages. Exploit its weaknesses.'" The words roll off her tongue with quiet resolve, like a prayer before a war.
Unseen from the doorway, Arlecchino watches. She doesn't say a word, doesn't step forward. Her gaze lingers on her adoptive daughter, something unreadable flickering in her eyes. Pride, maybe. A touch of nostalgia. Her lips curl into the ghost of a smirk.
"That's what I like to hear, Collei," she murmurs to herself before slipping back into the cool shadows of the house.
Nightfall. Asase Pass.
The road sleeps like a coiled serpent beneath a canopy of trees, cloaked in humid darkness. The occasional buzz of insects flickers through the underbrush, underscored by the steady hum of sodium streetlights bathing the cracked asphalt in a jaundiced glow. The atmosphere is thick—electric with anticipation.
Two cars idle beneath the amber gloom: a white Skyline R34 and a white Lancer Evolution V, parked side by side like twin wolves waiting for blood. Standing between them are their drivers.
Kafka leans against the Skyline, her arms folded across her chest, dark hair falling over one shoulder like silk threaded with tension. Her posture is relaxed, but her eyes scan the road like a sniper lining up a shot.
"So, Blade," she says, her voice smooth but cool, "what's the plan when Team Speed Stars show up?"
Blade tilts his head, grinning like a fox who already raided the henhouse. His eyes glint with mischief, the night casting hard shadows across his face.
"Keep this between us, Kafka, but we could make some quick cash out of this."
Kafka's expression tightens. She pushes off the Skyline slowly, standing straighter, the air around her suddenly tenser.
"What happened to racing to test our skills?"
He lets out a little giggle—sharp, dismissive, laced with ego. "Oh, please. It was never about skill. If we both win, we split half a mil. If just one of us wins, it's 250K. And if we tie with them? That's still 80 grand. Easy money."
Kafka shakes her head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "This isn't about money. We're here to race, Blade—not hustle people."
"Tsk, tsk," Blade clicks his tongue, wagging a finger in mock scolding. "Trust me on this, Kafka. Let me do the talking."
Before she can respond, the sound of engines splits the silence—low and growing, rolling over the trees like a storm front.
A convoy emerges from the darkness. The Lancia Rally 037 leads, its exhaust snarling like a chainsaw being revved by a lunatic. Right behind it, the unmistakable silhouette of Collei's Eight-Six, headlights piercing through the trees. Four black support vans trail them, massive and ominous, like war wagons from another era.
They slide into the lot in formation, gravel crunching under thick tires. The Lancia jerks to a halt, belching out a puff of exhaust like a warning shot. Collei's Eight-Six pulls in beside it, quiet in comparison but no less commanding.
Clorinde steps out of the Lancia like a coiled spring, gaze scanning the area with ice-cold efficiency. Collei exits her car with more restraint, but her eyes flick over the opposing lineup, locking onto the white Skyline and Lancer Evo across from them.
She exhales sharply through her nose.
"A Skyline R34 and a Lancer Evo V… Ayaka was right. Our next opponents are cars that power all four wheels. A mix of AWD and 4WD," she mutters under her breath. The words feel like iron in her mouth—heavy, final.
Ningguang stands off to the side, clipboard in hand, ready to debrief the Speed Stars. The air buzzes with low chatter until Keqing steps forward, cutting through the tension like a hot blade.
"Ningguang, can you come over here? We've got something to discuss."
Ningguang doesn't bother hiding the irritation that flickers across her face. "Here we go…" she mutters before walking toward the trio. Kafka steps back immediately, clearly distancing herself from whatever Blade is cooking up.
Keqing lays it out, tone tight. "Blade here says he wants to split the practice times in half—half for us, half for their team."
Ningguang exhales through her teeth, already tired of the bullshit. She turns to Blade, eyebrow raised.
"I don't see why we need to split the time. Can't we just practice together?"
Blade scoffs. "You kidding me? I'd rather practice with my team alone. I don't trust your drivers. What if one of them takes a corner too damn wide and wipes one of us out?"
The words are gasoline.
Clorinde's fists curl at her sides, knuckles whitening as fury flares behind her eyes. She takes a hard step forward, teeth grinding.
"You—!"
But Collei's already there, hand on her arm, yanking her back.
"Clorinde! Let it go!" Her voice slices through the tension like a racing line through a blind corner. Commanding. Final.
Ningguang pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing like someone being asked to play babysitter for the tenth time today.
"Fine. I don't have much choice anyway. We'll split the time."
"Wait, are you sure about this?" Keqing's voice rises, concern etched into her face.
"It's final," Ningguang says, voice like cold stone.
Blade smirks. Victory tastes sweet, even before the engine fires up. He walks back to his car with that cocky bounce in his step, sliding into the Lancer's driver seat like he owns the road.
Kafka hesitates. Her eyes flick between the Speed Stars and her teammate. Something in her gut churns—but she moves anyway, climbing into the Skyline R34 with a slow, reluctant motion.
The two AWD machines fire up simultaneously, engines snarling like beasts uncaged. Their exhausts crackle through the still mountain air, sending echoes tumbling down the pass.
Blade grins behind the wheel, hand draped lazily over the shifter.
"It worked…"
Inside the Skyline, Kafka's hands tighten on the wheel until her knuckles ache.
"This… this is a bad idea, Blade."
Back at base…
Clorinde stood with her arms folded tightly across her chest, her back leaned against a support van. Her eyes didn't waver from the dark mouth of the tunnel where Blade's Evo had disappeared minutes earlier. The dusk air was heavy, the kind that clung to your skin and made nerves itch.
"I've got a bad feeling they're going to try something," she muttered, her voice low and clipped.
Navia stood nearby, her fingers working tension out of the corner of a laptop's chassis. She gave a shallow nod, her brow furrowed in thought. "Yeah… good thing I packed backup components. Engine sensors, brake lines, even a full damper assembly. If they're planning shit, they'll have to do more than spill oil to put us out."
Her eyes drifted, almost absently, toward the Lancia. Something caught her eye—wedged tight beside the driver's seat frame, half-concealed in the gloom, was the matte black grip of a pistol in a minimalist holster. It looked like it belonged there.
Navia's voice dropped into a whisper. "You… brought your piece?"
Clorinde gave a subtle nod. Her face didn't change—flat, composed, steel behind the eyes. "Yeah. Just for protection."
Navia shook her head, the motion sharp with disbelief, like she was trying to rattle loose the implications. "Still doesn't make sense. They run this course every day. Why stack the deck?"
Clorinde didn't answer immediately. She pushed off the van, the gravel grinding under her boots as she stepped closer. "Because it's not about the win. It's about control. They want us dancing on a clock they rigged themselves."
Navia closed the laptop with a quiet click and slung it under one arm. Clorinde put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her into a one-armed embrace—brief but grounding.
"Don't worry, Navia. We'll beat them. And when we do, it'll sting worse knowing we did it with half the practice time."
Navia gave her a wry smile, faint but genuine. "Alright. I'll give the Lancia a final once-over. Make sure she's bulletproof."
On Ningguang's side…
Keqing stood near the edge of the parking lot, eyes tracking the curves of the pass in the fading light. She looked irritated—arms crossed, foot tapping.
"This course… it's perfect for Collei. But with practice time cut in half? It's gonna be a squeeze."
Ningguang stood beside her, her arms folded, watching the darkness settle over the mountains like a shroud. Her voice was quiet but certain. "Yeah. And I've got a bad feeling about those two. This whole thing smells off."
Keqing turned toward her. "You think they're scheming something?"
Ningguang didn't hesitate. "I know they are. I'm a businesswoman, Keqing. I know how to read people—and Blade's the kind who smiles while he knives you in the back. Just… stay sharp."
Time passes. Far down the pass…
The growl of engines echoed through the valley before the cars came into view—Kafka's Skyline and Blade's Evo pulled into the lot, headlights off, like wolves returning from the hunt. Gravel crunched as they came to a stop, both drivers stepping out.
Kafka gave a brief thumbs-up. "You guys are good to go now."
Keqing nodded curtly. "Alright! Let's light them up!"
At the starting point…
Clorinde climbed into the Lancia, her movements calm but deliberate. Navia finished syncing the telemetry software on her laptop, the glow from the screen casting her face in pale blue. She closed the lid and stepped back, nodding.
"Ready to rock, Clorinde."
The Frenchwoman smirked and yanked the handbrake release. "That's what I like to hear."
Her boot dropped onto the throttle, and the Lancia snarled as it launched into the night, rear tires kicking up dust and heat. The exhaust snapped and barked as she disappeared into the tunnel.
Moments later, Collei climbed into the Eight-Six, already belted in. Her hands gripped the small-diameter steering wheel, knuckles pale. Albedo checked one last data stream, then shut the laptop.
"We don't have much time," he said. "Make every run count."
Collei nodded tightly. "I understand."
Off to the left, Keqing threw up two big thumbs and shouted, "Kick some ass, Collei!"
Collei narrowed her eyes, flicked the handbrake off, and floored it. The new 20-valve engine screamed as the Eight-Six clawed into the first corner. The car danced through a right-hand flick, then braked hard into a left hairpin. She stabbed the clutch, yanked the wheel, and feathered the throttle mid-slide—the car held its line perfectly, tires howling.
Back at the base…
Blade leaned on the hood of his Evo, flipping his phone lazily between his fingers. He chuckled to himself, voice low. "They won't be so cocky after this. I'm gonna give that Italian relic a little surprise."
Kafka approached, her jaw clenched tight. "Blade. What the hell are you planning?"
Blade just grinned and thumbed open his phone. "An easy win. That Group B freak show? I'm not beating her fair. So I'm making it unfair."
He tapped the dial.
The call picked up immediately.
"Hey. You still down there?"
A low male voice crackled on the line. "Yeah. What's the plan?"
"Our target's the Lancia."
There was a pause. "You serious? That thing's worth more than some houses. If this goes sideways—"
Blade scoffed. "Doesn't matter. They'll never trace it."
"…Fine," the voice grumbled. The line went dead.
The man, hunched beside the guardrail at a lower hairpin, turned to his crew. "Alright. You heard him. Dump it at the bridge hairpin. Target's the Lancia."
On the course…
Collei's Eight-Six surged up the mountain. She grunted through every bump and jolt, hands constantly correcting. The tires bit into another sweeper as she rotated with clean heel-toe transitions. Still, the frustration simmered beneath her focus.
"Damn it. Half the time means memorizing twice the shit… every camber, every fucking dip."
Mid-corner, the car bounced on a hidden bump. She instinctively countered, the chassis twitching but stable. Albedo watched the graphs spike on his screen. "Nice save."
Meanwhile, on the descent—
Clorinde's Lancia screamed through the darkness. The turbo whistled under the roar of the engine, and her gloved hands moved like a sniper adjusting sights. The straightaway ahead dipped before the bridge.
Then—she saw it.
A dark shimmer on the pavement.
Her breath caught. "What the hell—?"
It wasn't water. No sheen like that. No spread.
Her gut dropped. "That's… oil."
She hit the brakes.
Too late.
The Lancia's front tires lost bite. Understeer. The nose plowed wide as she fought to bring it back. Rear traction broke first—the back end kicked out hard, and the car swung in a sickening arc. She tried to correct, too much angle, too little grip.
BANG.
The left rear slammed the guardrail. The impact crumpled the rear suspension, ripping it out of the subframe. The car snapped sideways, grinding to a stop in a cloud of rubber smoke and leaking fluids.
Inside, Navia blinked slowly. The laptop hit the floor. "C-Clorinde!?"
Clorinde sat there, fists clamped on the wheel. Her chest heaved once… twice…
"Motherfuckers," she hissed, her voice low, venomous.
Back at base…
Keqing's phone buzzed. She picked up and hit speaker.
"Clorinde?" she said.
The reply came like a thunderclap.
"FUCK'S SAKE—I'm not alright! Are they still there!?"
Keqing's eyes darted to Kafka, who stood by awkwardly. "Blade left. Kafka's still here."
"FUCK! Tell Collei to stop her run! Now!"
"What's going on!?"
"There's oil on the bridge hairpin. Sabotage, Keqing! This was deliberate."
Keqing froze. "You're sure?"
Clorinde's voice trembled with rage. "Yeah. I don't know how, but they knew our line. And they tried to take us out."
"What about the car? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine…"
She looked at the Lancia. The rear left wheel hung loose, torn from its mount. The rear spoiler had snapped at the bracket, dangling like a broken wing. Suspension fluid leaked in thick lines across the asphalt. The engine bay was warped. Her car—the icon, the weapon—was totaled.
"But the Lancia?" Her voice cracked. "It's fucked."
Hours later…
A low rumble cut through the stillness as one of the support vans crawled up the pass, headlights cutting long beams across the shredded mountain silence. Keqing, Ningguang, and Ganyu stepped out into the night air, tense and stone-faced. The AE86 sat idling nearby, its engine ticking faintly as it cooled. Beside it, the wrecked Lancia rested like a wounded beast under floodlights—its rear left suspension torn open like a gunshot wound, frame sagging, exhaust crooked, and rear bumper barely hanging on.
Keqing crouched by the spill site, dragging two fingers through the thick sheen on the asphalt. She lifted them to the light and rubbed the dark smear between her fingertips. Her voice was low, tight with disbelief.
"Jesus Christ… why?"
Ningguang stood still, her silhouette crisp in the halogen glare. Arms folded, her eyes tracked the streak of oil all the way into the turn. Her voice dropped, low and cold. "Even I couldn't have avoided that. No matter how clean your line is, you hit this—you're done. Any of us would've wrecked."
Ganyu stood back, her expression strained, her words soft but tense. "Who would do something like this?"
The silence cracked.
Clorinde snapped. Her composure shattered like glass underfoot.
"ISN'T IT OBVIOUS?!" she barked, voice ripping out like a gunshot. "WHO ELSE WOULD FUCKING TRY TO SCREW UP MY RIDE?!"
Her fists were clenched, knuckles white, every muscle in her shoulders coiled like she was ready to break someone's face. Her voice shook with fury. "That wasn't an accident. That was a hit."
Ningguang didn't flinch. She scanned the road ahead instead, eyes narrowing.
"There's a service route leading to the next town—back entrance into the pass," she said flatly. "They came in quick, did the job, and cleared out before anyone saw. They're long gone now."
The group moved toward the mangled Lancia. Navia was already halfway buried in the rear end, a flashlight gripped between her teeth, hands gloved and covered in grease. She didn't look up.
Ningguang knelt down beside her. "How bad is it?"
Navia exhaled slowly, pulling back from under the car. Her face was pale, but her voice stayed steady. "Bad. Rear left suspension's shredded—arms, struts, linkages, everything. Ripped right out, but at least the subframe mounts didn't crack. That's the only reason this thing isn't totaled. I've got spares in the van, but it's going to take a full day to get her track-worthy again."
She wiped her brow, leaving a streak of black across her forehead. "The driveshaft's fucked. Might've taken the gearbox with it. I've got a spare 'box too, but it's gonna be hell fitting everything tonight."
She paused, glanced back at the crumpled wheel well. "Chassis and space frame are intact. That's the only thing giving me hope."
Ningguang nodded once. No hesitation.
"Start repairs. No breaks. This car rolls to the line, no matter what."
Navia nodded grimly. "Understood."
Ningguang turned on her heel, facing Collei. "Collei. Keep running the course. But when you reach that left-hand hairpin—you turn around. No heroics. Got it?"
Collei gave a firm nod, jaw tight. "Understood."
Right then, the growl of a turbocharged engine echoed off the canyon walls. A white Lancer Evo V rolled into view, crawling into the scene like a fucking jackal sniffing a fresh carcass. The headlights washed over the busted Lancia. Blade rolled down his window, one elbow cocked lazily on the sill, lips curled into a smug little grin.
"There you are," he sneered. "I figured something was up—it was way too quiet at the upper lot."
His eyes locked onto the crumpled Lancia. His grin widened.
"Ha! You wrecked here? What a joke. This corner's not even hard."
Clorinde's teeth ground together audibly. Her boots thudded across the tarmac as she stomped up to Blade's car and slammed her hand against the roof with a metallic bang.
"That was a dirty fucking trick your boys pulled!" she snarled. "You even know what this car is worth?! Do you?! That's a Group B Lancia 037! That's automotive history! That's my car! And you tried to fucking kill it!"
Blade didn't flinch. His smirk only deepened.
"Easy," he said, voice soaked in condescension. "I've been with my crew all night. Kafka never left your side, did she? So unless I can teleport oil with my mind, I think you're looking in the wrong place."
"Don't bullshit me!" Clorinde barked, jabbing a finger toward his face. "You fucking knew! This reeks of your style. Sabotage from the shadows."
Her fists were shaking now. "Get the fuck out and settle this like a man!"
Keqing stepped in between them like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"Clorinde! Stand down!"
Blade cocked his head, still lounging behind the wheel. "Wow. You really do need babysitting." He looked past her to Keqing. "You people love drama, huh?"
He revved the Evo once, letting the turbo whistle scream.
"Look, race happens with or without you. If the Lancia's dead, that's a DNF. Sucks to suck."
Keqing leaned in the window, her voice like a knife in velvet.
"Don't worry. The Lancia will be there, you prick. You'd better bring more than smugness."
Blade's eyes darkened. His smirk dropped for half a second before he jammed the gear lever into first and slammed the gas, tires screeching as he peeled away down the pass.
Clorinde seethed. She turned, hauled off, and kicked the guardrail hard enough to dent it.
"FUCK!" Her voice cracked, raw and furious. "I'm going to end him when I get the chance! I swear to God!"
Ningguang's voice cut like a whip. "If you're done taking it out on the scenery, move your ass. Help Navia. You know that car better than anyone. Every bolt. Every weld. We need you."
Clorinde didn't argue. She marched over, jaw locked, and dropped beside Navia, diving into the wreck with bare hands.
Ningguang turned to Keqing and Ganyu. "We clean up this oil now. Every inch. We leave nothing."
—
Meanwhile… somewhere deeper in the pass.
The AE86 screamed through a tight left, tires biting hard into the pavement. Collei's hands gripped the wheel in a death clutch, her face lit by the orange wash of the tachometer. Her voice was a bitter whisper.
"That's so fucked up," she growled. "Clorinde didn't deserve that."
She punched the clutch and downshifted, matching revs in a smooth blip. The engine snarled.
"Now it's personal. I don't care if it's Kafka or Blade—I'll bury them."
She floored the throttle, the AE86 surging forward, the scream of the Silvertop engine echoing across the cliffs like a war cry.
—
As the night wanes…
Collei rolls back into the base area, brake lights glowing red in the dark. Sweat clings to her face. The Eight-Six ticks and pops as it cools, the bodywork dusted with grit and brake dust.
The Lancia lies still, but it is no corpse. Under floodlight and fury, Clorinde and Navia work like demons, sleeves rolled, hands bloodied with grease, wrenching it back to life piece by piece.
And when it runs again…
They won't just race.
They'll settle the score.