The final kiai of kendo practice echoed in the dojo, and the tension bled from my shoulders. No sooner had I toweled off my neck than my phone buzzed. Ruyi. I picked up.
"Hey, Ruyi. What's up?"
Her voice was a soft command. "Meet me. Now." She sent a location pin.
A wry smile touched my lips. So demanding. I found her at a small fountain plaza, tapping her foot with exaggerated impatience.
"It's about time you got here. You made me wait so long," she said, pouting. It was a good look on her.
"Okay, okay. Where do you want to go today?"
"The arcade."
At the Arcade
Neon lights, the smell of popcorn, and the echo of kids shouting—it all felt oddly nostalgic.
Ruyi was glued to the claw machine, her violet eyes reflecting the LED glow.
She pointed.
"That one. The cat plush."
"Got it."
I slipped in a coin, moved the claw, and used a trick I learned back in the States—nudging the edge of the prize box just right before the claw dropped.
The machine clanked, and the plush fell cleanly into the chute.
Ruyi blinked.
"You cheated."
"It's called skill." I handed her the plush.
She hugged it, smiling like she'd just won the lottery.
"Still cheating."
Before I could answer, a familiar, booming voice cut through the noise. "AZAZEL!"
My blood ran cold. Oh hell no. Bro, please don't.
Kenji was striding towards us, a triumphant grin on his face, his younger sister trailing behind him curiously. "I caught you red-handed! You've been avoiding my questions with the guys around. Now it's just you and me, bro!" He crossed his arms, ready for the interrogation.
I could feel the pressure. There was no escape. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off.
"Yeah," I said, my voice flat. "She's my girlfriend."
Ruyi, clutching her new plushie, nodded with serene finality. "He's telling you the truth, in case you don't believe him."
To my utter shock, Kenji's posture instantly relaxed into nonchalance. "Cool. What took you forever to tell me, man? Anyway, my sister is waiting for me. See you guys at school. Bye!" He gave a casual wave and walked off as if he'd just commented on the weather.
I stood there, dumbfounded. Ruyi giggled softly. "You have a good friend, Azazel." Then she looked me directly in the eyes, smiled a smile that reached her light violet irises, and slipped her hand into mine.
We found a quiet bench in a nearby park. The evening air was warm. For a few minutes, we just sat, our hands still linked, making stupid jokes and laughing with a peace I rarely knew. In a lull, I looked at her—really looked at her—and squeezed her hand. I leaned forward slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
She didn't. She closed her eyes.
The kiss was soft, a tentative exploration that quickly deepened into something more. When we finally parted, her cheeks were flushed.
"That... was my first kiss, you know," she whispered, her voice breathy.
A strange sense of responsibility and pride washed over me. "Mine too," I lied smoothly.
She seemed to float on happiness all the way to her house. She held my hand the entire walk, her grip firm. As we reached her gate, I once again noted the imposing, mansion-like quality of her home. But whatever.
"Bye, Azazel," she said, standing on her toes to give me one last, quick kiss before disappearing inside.
I checked my phone. The night was still young. An old, familiar restlessness stirred within me. The persona of the attentive boyfriend faded, replaced by an older, sharper instinct. I headed for the neon-drenched arteries of Shinjuku and Roppongi, falling back into the old habits from a different life, a different hood. The night was a blur of shadowed deals and fleeting dangers. Somehow, I made it back to my apartment as the sky began to lighten.
Waking up later on Saturday, I was adrift. I called Kenji.
"Hey, you got any plans?"
"Ya! Me, the guys, and a few girls from class are hitting the pool. Wanna come? Invite Ruyi, too."
I agreed and texted Ruyi. Her reply was instant: Why not? See you there.
I called my handler for a ride to buy swim trunks and get to the pool. In the car, she performed her usual duty.
"How has school been? Any general activity?"
"Everything's been fine," I said, staring out the window. "How about you?"
"You know. Same old, boring job." Her tone was flat, rehearsed. Like I'm supposed to believe that.
She dropped me off at the pool entrance. "Looks like you have friends. That's good. Anyway, find your own way back home. Bye." The black sedan pulled away, leaving no trace.
The day was a splash of normalcy. I met up with the gang, and then Ruyi arrived. Everyone changed and hit the water. I watched as Ruyi, to my surprise, easily started chatting and laughing with the other girls. Me and the boys commandeered the high dive, the rush of the jump a clean, simple thrill.
Later, we all took the train home, a tired, laughing group. After everyone said their goodbyes, Ruyi and I were left alone. We walked through the twilight of Tokyo, our hands linked again. We walked without a real destination, just enjoying the city's hum. When I finally took her home, she hugged me tightly, then kissed me softly before vanishing behind her grand gate.
I went straight home, the scent of chlorine and her perfume still on my skin. I sat at my PC, losing hours in the glow of the monitor until true darkness fell.
Once night had firmly reclaimed the city, I stood up. The quiet of the apartment was suddenly suffocating. I grabbed the keys to the 240Z, the metal cool in my hand. The engine's growl was a welcome roar, a promise of freedom and anonymity. My destination was the only place that made sense for the other me: Daikoku Parking, to let the nocturnal echo of my other life drown out the strange, new quiet in my heart.
The air there always smelled like burnt rubber, oil, and bad decisions.
Engines revved like wild beasts.
Laughter and cigarette smoke mixed under the sodium lights.
A group of guys were huddled near a silver RX-7. talking animatedly.
"Yo" I called out, slipping into their circle. "What race you guys talking about?"
One of them turned, grinning. His jacket gleamed under the lights.
"We're running the hill tonight, brother. You in? Gotta put some cash down — bet makes it fun."
A race.
Cash.
Adrenaline.
Just like old times.
"Sure" I said. "l'm betting on the Supra."
They looked surprised.
"Not betting on yourself?"
I smirked.
"Never bet on yourself unless you're sure you'll win."
Engines lined up at the starting point, headlights slicing through the dark.
The crowd whistled and hollered, cameras ready.
A girl stepped forward, holding two flares. The orange fire painted her face with wild light.
"You boys ready?"
"Three—"
"Two—"
"One—Go!"
Tires screamed.
The 240Z shot forward like it had been starving for speed.
Tokyo's highway blurred — streaks of light and motion.
For a split second, I caught the reflection of a patrol car.
But the cops didn't move.
They never did.
Fun Fact:The police cars are only factory-tuned and cannot exceed 180 km/h, so they don't bother chasing cars that go faster. This is why Azazel isn't pursued when he reaches 197 km/h after being clocked by a police car, a detail that leads him to appreciate his new life in Japan.
The race snaked up into the mountains. It became a dance of physics and instinct—sharp curves. controlled drifts, the occasional shower of sparks as a fender kissed a guardrail. The GTRs and Supras ahead of me moved like primal predators, their taillights bleeding red through the mist.
"These guys…" I muttered, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. my tires scrabbling for purchase. "They really know how to dance."
But in the end, the mountain demanded more.
Thirty minutes later, we reached the summit. Five cars had crossed before me. The GT-R took the win. I rolled to a stop, killing the engine. The silence was abrupt. I exhaled, a half-laugh escaping my lips.
"Guess I'm rusty."
I'd lost the race. I'd lost the bet. And yet, I didn't care. For those thirty minutes, the quiet in my heart had been completely filled with the roaring, all-consuming sensation of being truly, undeniably *alive*
I drove straight home, the city's lights bleeding into a serene quiet. Back in my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch, and sleep took me before I could even process the day.
The morning brought the familiar routine: school, Ruyi's calm "Good morning, Bad Boy," and Kenji's loud camaraderie. But it all felt like a layer of film over my senses. My true life was measured in nocturnal pulses and the feel of a gearshift.
The handler, of course, noticed the dissonance.
"You've been driving a lot lately," she stated during a check-in, her voice devoid of curiosity. It was an accusation.
"Just getting used to Tokyo traffic," I deflected, the lie smooth and easy.
She let the silence hang, a clear, unspoken warning. "Right. Traffic."
Feels like she knows more than she lets on.
---
**Five Months Later**
The duality of my life solidified. By day, I was Azazel the transfer student, the third-best kendoka. By night, I was a Oin Kuro (黒) of the Wangan, a known face in the underground racing scene, making and losing money just to feel the rush.
But no matter how fast I drove, or how many bets I won, I could never shake the feeling. The quiet life was a facade. and my past wasn't just chasing me—it was waiting patiently at the next finish line. ready to claim its prize.
Summer had finally come.
The city shimmered under the afternoon sun, and the air smelled faintly of asphalt and sea salt.
Ruyi and I had planned an "expensive" date — five-star restaurants, luxury malls, and the kind of places you only see in glossy magazines.
All paid for by the money I'd won from street races, of course.
Funny how something illegal could buy moments that felt so pure.
We went everywhere — a riverside café, a rooftop garden, a restaurant so fancy the water cost more than a normal meal.
It should've felt impressive. Romantic, even.
But halfway through dessert, Ruyi leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and gave me a lazy smile.
"Wow, Azazel. I'm not impressed. This kind of treatment is… pretty boring."
I blinked. "What?"
Inside, though, I kind of expected it.
She wasn't the type to be dazzled by money. She probably grew up around this stuff.
Figures.
I sighed. "Yeah, I kinda knew it. You like the normal things, don't you, Ruyi?"
She tilted her head, a teasing spark in her violet eyes.
"Feels like you were testing me.*
"Testing you? Me? No, what are we talking about again?" I said, deadpan.
She burst into laughter — real, unrestrained.
Heads turned, but she didn't care.
"You think you can deflect like that? Hah! I guess that's why I really love you."
I froze for half a second.
Then smirked. "My bad, your royal majesty."
She giggled, flicking my forehead.
"Shut up, Azazel. Now take me on a real date."
"Sure thing," I said, standing up. "And by the way… love you too."
We left the restaurant, the city lights coming alive as evening fell.
For once, the night didn't feel like an escape — it felt like peace.
Her hand brushed against mine, and she didn't let go.
Neither did I.
(Narration)
And that was the moment I knew —
this wasn't just another game or distraction.
Azazel, the ex-broker, the runner, the liar,
was truly in love.
And Ruyi Ironveil —
the girl who saw through every wall I'd built —
loved him back.
It was stupid. Dangerous. Beautiful.
But it was real.