Weeks had passed since Collei's explosive showdown with Ayaka on the slopes of Mount Yougou. The blistering tension of summer had given way to autumn's fading gold—and now, even that warmth was vanishing. The skies were growing heavier by the day, overcast with the muted silver of approaching snow, and the air had taken on that dry, bitter edge that hinted at winter's slow crawl through Inazuma.
Still, for Collei, it was another ordinary morning. She walked the familiar path toward the gas station, her breath misting in the cold. The wind cut low between the hills, rustling the leaves and sending a loose flyer tumbling across the cracked asphalt. Her hands were buried deep in the pockets of her jacket, the early chill already biting through the seams. And yet, her mind drifted—not with the weather, but with the now-familiar hum of revs in her memory.
Then a voice cut through the quiet.
"Hey, Collei!"
She turned her head, eyes narrowing slightly against the wind. March 7th was jogging up the sidewalk, all pink hair, radiant grin, and enough chaotic energy to cut through the morning frost like a blowtorch.
"Oh, hey there, March," Collei said, offering her a subdued smile.
March fell into step beside her, bouncing slightly on her heels. "So! What's up today, Collei?"
Collei raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching in mild amusement. "With what, exactly?"
March bumped her shoulder with a smirk. "Your Eight-Six, obviously! It's been what, weeks since that race with Ayaka? How's she feeling with the new heart transplant?"
That made Collei's smile deepen—quiet, almost reverent.
"She's been… incredible. It feels like I've finally unlocked her full potential. Like she's not fighting me anymore—she wants to go fast now." Her eyes gleamed as she spoke, and for a second, she looked far older than she was. "With the new engine, I've been pushing harder than ever. The 4A-GE 20V sings all the way to redline like it's begging for more."
March whistled, nodding. "Man, I wish I could say the same about my NA Supra. She still throws a tantrum every time I ask her to do more than eighty in third gear. But hey—when I do get her sorted, you owe me another run up the mountain."
Collei giggled, brushing a few strands of hair from her face. "Sure. Just… promise you won't scream like Beidou did. She's still mad I made her clutch the seat like a grandma."
March laughed so hard she nearly tripped. "Excuse me! I'm not Beidou, alright? I've got nerves of steel. You'll see—I'll keep my cool the whole way through."
The two bantered the rest of the way to work, their footsteps echoing off the cold pavement, voices light against the gathering gray.
The day melted by in a blur of shifting tires, cold pumps, and customers bundled in coats and impatience. By the time the final tank was filled and the last oil receipt signed, the sun had already dipped low in the sky, staining the horizon in streaks of burnt orange and dusty crimson.
Collei made her way to the gas station's garage, the clang of tools echoing inside. She ducked through the sliding door—and there was Beidou, hunched over her R32 with sleeves rolled and grease smeared up to her elbows. The twin-turbo straight-six sat exposed like an anatomical diagram, its pipes gleaming from a recent polish.
"Hey, Beidou?" Collei called out, walking up from behind. "Got a second?"
Beidou straightened, wiping her hands with an old cloth. Her expression was calm, but her eyes held curiosity. "What's up, kid?"
Collei didn't answer at first. Her gaze drifted over the complex layout of the RB26, tracing lines and connectors she didn't yet understand—but wanted to.
"I wanted to ask… how did you learn all this? Like, really learn it?"
Beidou arched a brow. "The mechanic stuff?"
Collei nodded.
Beidou grinned. "My old man was a grease monkey. Ran a shop down near the coast. I spent most of my childhood elbow-deep in busted-up transmissions and rotted-out carburetors. Started wrenching on his Galant VR-4 when I was barely tall enough to see over the fender. The R32 came later—my first real project car. Everything I've learned since then? Trial and error. Mostly error."
March had wandered in without a word, now leaning casually against the lift jack. "Look who's catching the bug," she said, pointing at Collei with a teasing grin.
Collei gave her a sideways glance, but smiled. "Not catching the bug. Just… starting to understand that there's more to driving than I thought."
She stepped out into the cool air again, watching the last sunlight bleed behind the treeline. Her voice was quieter now, introspective.
"Ever since I installed that new tachometer… and swapped in the Group A 4A-GE, I've felt it. Every drive is different now. She pulls harder. Rev matches are sharper. The throttle's like a hair trigger—and I love it, but it's also shown me how much I don't know. About cars. About myself."
Beidou and March exchanged a glance.
Beidou chuckled. "I never thought I'd hear that coming from you."
March added, "The girl who used to treat the AE86 like a glorified delivery van. Look at you now."
They turned as one to face the mountains—black silhouettes now, Yougou's jagged ridges stretching into the dying light.
"You've done more this summer than most people do in a lifetime," Beidou said, her voice mellowed by memory. "When we met you, you didn't even know what the hell an Eight Six was. Now? You're the one people come to see race."
March leaned on Beidou's shoulder, laughing. "And let's not forget how hard we had to push you into that first race."
Beidou nodded. "Worth it, though. All of it."
Collei didn't answer immediately. Her thoughts were already elsewhere.
Flashbacks ignited like backfires.
Keqing. The mountain air was cold, the RX-7's exhaust echoing off the cliffs. Her own hands trembled as she told Beidou she just delivered tofu—that she didn't race. Then the engine roared. The first gutter run. The five hairpins. That unbeatable moment where she flew past Keqing's FD and never looked back.
Yelan. Blackbird. The Araumi specter. Her Porsche 930 Turbo cutting through the dark like a goddamn missile. Collei had danced on the edge that night—feinting, diving inside, outmaneuvering the queen of top-speed control until Yelan spun out and kissed the guardrail in a plume of sparks.
Silverwolf. Gum Tape Deathmatch. The rawest race she'd ever survived. Hands taped to the wheel. No margin for error. A spin-out. A recovery. A jump that sent her airborne. The violent crunch into the final guardrail to force a win. Pain. Adrenaline. Glory.
Eula. Amakane Pass. The GT86 and AE86 danced as equals through the turns. Neck-and-neck through Turn A105, twin red taillights flashing like twin comets. When she finally overtook—clean and precise—it felt like poetry written on asphalt.
Ningguang. The Ice Queen. The White Star of Araumi. Her FC hugged the inside like a scalpel. But in the final corner, Collei made her move. A controlled slide, a whisper of grip, and the AE86 slipped past. The undefeated streak—broken.
She blinked. The present returned.
"I've changed a lot," she murmured. "Thinking back to those races… I barely recognize who I used to be."
Beidou grinned and clapped her on the back. "You were a quiet delivery girl. Now you're the defender of Yougou's street scene. Collei 'fucking' Fujiwara."
March added, "Knight in shining armor. With a screamer under the hood."
Collei laughed—quiet, but honest. The cold wind passed through again, but she didn't notice.
In that moment, something deeper had settled inside her.
She wasn't just driving anymore.
She was racing.
And the legend was just getting started.
Right on cue, the distinct, raspy hum of a rotary engine tore through the air like a buzzsaw on idle. That unmistakable sound—dry, aggressive, and just a bit unstable—rolled in from the road like thunder through the mountains. All three heads turned instinctively toward the source.
From the entrance to the lot, a low, wide silhouette appeared—sleek, painted in a glacial white that caught the last rays of dusk. Pop-up headlights retracted, the RX-7 FC3S glided in, suspension taut over the slightly uneven tarmac, idling smooth but fierce. The deep burble from the twin-rotor 13B engine echoed slightly off the station walls before dying down as the car rolled to a stop beside the pump.
March's jaw dropped. "Holy... That's Ningguang's FC!"
The door popped open with a subtle click. Ningguang stepped out, immaculate as ever. Her hair and coat fluttered slightly in the breeze, her presence as polished and precise as the car she drove. She didn't just walk—she moved, like someone who didn't second-guess a single step.
Beidou, wiping her hands on a shop towel, didn't hesitate. "Hey, Ningguang! What can we do for you?"
Ningguang offered a polite smile, the kind that looked calm but calculated. "Fill her up with high-octane, please."
Beidou gave her a thumbs-up. "You got it. 102 RON coming right up."
As Beidou moved to uncap the fuel tank and slide the nozzle in with a practiced hand, March grabbed a squeegee and began cleaning the windshield, unable to hide the giddy excitement on her face.
Ningguang, meanwhile, turned on her heel and strode toward Collei with the poise of someone accustomed to commanding boardrooms—and racetracks.
"Collei," she began warmly, her voice velvet smooth, "it's great to see you again."
Collei smiled, subtle and genuine. "Nice to see you too, Ningguang."
Without warning, Ningguang reached out and placed a hand gently on Collei's shoulder. Not forceful—just enough to let the contact register.
"Do you have any free time later?" she asked, her gaze steady. "Can you meet me at Lake Yougou tonight?"
Collei blinked, her brow creasing slightly at the unexpected question. Still, she nodded. "Yeah, sure. We can meet up tonight."
"Perfect." Ningguang reached into the inside pocket of her coat and produced a neatly folded slip of paper. She handed it over without hesitation. "Here's my phone number."
Collei accepted it carefully, her smile unchanging but with just a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "Thanks, Ningguang."
After the payment was handled, Ningguang slid effortlessly back into the driver's seat. The rotary engine snarled to life with that signature flare of revs before settling into a pulsing idle. The FC backed out, then peeled away with the kind of smoothness only someone like Ningguang could deliver—controlled, deliberate, and damn near silent in its confidence. The rasp of the exhaust trailed off as she vanished into the horizon.
March and Beidou reappeared at Collei's side, eyes fixed on her like a pair of hawks.
"Collei," March began, crossing her arms, "what was that all about? Ningguang shows up, gives you her number, and drives off like she's in a noir film?"
Collei scratched the back of her neck, avoiding eye contact. "I don't know. She just asked me to meet her later at Yougou."
March raised a skeptical brow. "Really? Then why are you blushing?"
Collei's face went red instantly. She waved her hands defensively, almost smacking March in the process. "I-It's not like that! I just—she caught me off guard! And we're still in uniform and everything, I get nervous when she shows up like that, okay?!"
Beidou let out a belly laugh, clapping her on the back hard enough to nearly send her forward. "Easy, tiger. Don't blow a fuse."
Across town, the atmosphere was a little less comedic.
In a dimly lit garage tucked between rows of residential buildings and shuttered businesses, Clorinde was under her Lancia. The 1983 Rally 037 sat on jack stands, exposed and brutal, its tube-frame chassis glinting under the fluorescent lights. Oil dripped in slow, methodical taps into the drain pan below. The air smelled of brake cleaner, metal, and old gasoline.
She reached up with a socket wrench, tightening the oil drain bolt with a final twist that rang out with a muted click. She gave it a quarter turn more—then winced.
"Argh! Shit!" The sharp edge of the lower control arm had grazed the heel of her hand. She jerked her arm back, twisting out from under the car in one fluid motion. Blood welled up from a fresh, shallow gash on her palm, smeared with grime and motor oil.
Standing now, she shook her hand out, gritting her teeth. "Damn it... Gonna need a bandage."
Just as she reached for a rag, the hum of a rotary engine—distinct, aggressive, and not at all subtle—drifted in from outside. Her brow lifted.
A moment later, Ningguang's white FC coasted into view, headlights off but parking lights glowing softly against the concrete. It eased to a stop in front of the garage like it belonged there.
Clorinde wiped her hand hastily and stepped outside, a bemused grin pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Hey, Ningguang! What brings you to my lively little corner of paradise?"
The door clicked open. Ningguang stepped out, unflappable as always. "Hey, Clorinde. I just wanted to talk to you for a second."
Clorinde stepped closer, folding her arms loosely across her chest. "Sure. What's on your mind?"
But before Ningguang answered, her eyes fell to the red streak across Clorinde's palm. She stepped closer. "Wait—are you okay? That's bleeding."
Clorinde glanced down at it like she'd forgotten. "Oh, this? It's nothing. Just caught the edge of the frame tightening a bolt. Happens."
Ningguang didn't press, just gave a short nod. "Alright. I was wondering if you're free tonight. I'm meeting Collei at Lake Yougou and thought you might want to join us."
Clorinde blinked. The mention of Collei's name shifted her stance ever so slightly—attention sharpened, like something had just clicked into place. She glanced over her shoulder at the Lancia, still mid-service. Timing belt replaced, fluids drained, plugs pulled—she had a bit more work to do, but she could finish it later.
"Yeah. I've got time tonight. I'll see you there."
Ningguang stepped forward, handing her a slip of paper. "Here's my number. Just in case."
Clorinde took it without ceremony and tucked it into her back pocket. "Noted."
With no more words needed, Ningguang returned to the driver's seat and fired up the FC again. The engine barked to life, then settled into that throaty, uneven hum as the rotary spun freely in its housing. She pulled away with her usual clean precision, the sound trailing off into the gathering night.
Clorinde watched the taillights vanish around the bend, her expression unreadable. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the paper in her pocket.
"What's she up to?" she muttered, half to herself. "Why come all the way here?"
She looked down at her palm again. A few dark red drops had splattered onto the concrete floor near her boots.
Sighing, she turned back toward the garage. "Better clean that up before I start bleeding on the timing cover."
She disappeared inside, reaching for the first aid kit tucked behind the tool chest, already plotting how long she'd need to get the 037 road-ready again—just in case tonight turned out to be more than just a friendly meetup.
As the Night Rises at Lake Yougou
The chill of the evening wrapped itself around Lake Yougou like a silk shroud—quiet, still, and waiting.
Ningguang stood beside her FC3S, one gloved hand resting lightly on the roof, the other holding a cigar that glowed faintly in the low light. The engine idled behind her in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the rotary's pulse as steady as her heartbeat. She took a long drag, exhaling smoke into the crisp mountain air, the ember flaring orange against the encroaching dark. Her expression was unreadable. Calculating, perhaps. Reflective, even.
With a final sigh, she dropped the cigar and ground it under the heel of her boot. Ash scattered across the asphalt and disappeared into the breeze.
A few moments passed before the silence broke.
Faint at first—then steadily growing—the roar of tuned engines echoed through the canyons surrounding the lake. Headlights pierced the darkness, a twin approach on the horizon. One came low and smooth, the sound sharp and aggressive—Collei's Eight-Six, its rebuilt heart humming with the unmistakable cadence of a high-revving four-cylinder. The other snarled and barked like a caged animal—Clorinde's Lancia Rally 037, a Group B monster whose presence alone felt like it could crack the pavement.
They pulled in slowly, engines winding down as the two machines settled beside Ningguang's FC. Three very different beasts now idled in a row beneath the moonlight—past, present, and future lined up like a challenge waiting to be made.
Collei stepped out, bouncing slightly on her feet, her smile immediate. "Hey, Ningguang!"
Clorinde emerged more slowly, wiping the last traces of engine oil from her bandaged hand with a rag she'd stuffed in her coat pocket. She leaned against her Lancia, arms crossed, pale hair catching the light. Her expression was harder to read—guarded, but curious. "So, why did you bring us all the way out here?"
Ningguang didn't answer right away. She straightened from her lean and pushed off the FC with a subtle shift in posture. Her gaze swept from one driver to the other, sharp and direct.
"The reason is simple," she said, her voice cutting clean through the stillness. "I want you both to drive for my expedition team."
Silence fell. Even the engines seemed to pause as if the air had thickened.
Collei blinked. "An expedition team?" she echoed, voice rising a touch with disbelief. "Wait, what kind of—?"
"I want to take on the mountain passes beyond this prefecture," Ningguang said smoothly. "One by one. Prefecture to prefecture. If they have records, we'll break them. If they have legends, we'll challenge them. I don't want to dominate—I want to leave something behind. Make noise. Make history. When we're done, we disband. Just like that."
She turned slightly, stepping closer to her car, but keeping her eyes on them both.
"I don't have much time left in this game. A year, maybe two. Racing's been good to me, but it takes its toll. So I want to build something before I'm out. And I want you two to be the core."
She turned to Clorinde first. "You'll take the uphills. No one else has the balls or the power-to-weight ratio to tame some of the climbs we'll face."
Clorinde nodded slowly, the corner of her mouth twitching with the start of a grin.
Then Ningguang shifted to Collei.
"And you... You're downhill. Pure instinct. Unfiltered talent. I've never seen anyone do what you did to me at Mount Yougou. You passed me in a fucking corner I never thought was passable."
Collei flushed slightly, scratching the back of her neck.
"You serious?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Ningguang's answer was a slow, deliberate nod. "Dead serious. This will push you harder than anything you've done. And if you take it seriously, I promise you—you'll evolve. You're fast, Collei. But talent alone won't carry you forever. You're riding instinct right now—nothing more. That'll hit a ceiling eventually. You need knowledge. You need theory. You need foundation."
She took a step forward. "And haven't you felt it already? That creeping feeling that your limits are approaching? That something's missing, even if you can't put a name to it?"
Collei's breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled slightly at her side. She didn't answer.
Ningguang's eyes narrowed, her voice softening—but it lost none of its steel.
"When instinct is backed by knowledge, it becomes something unstoppable. You'll move beyond just reacting—you'll start controlling. Calculating. Dominating. That's how pros race. That's how legends are made. Not just talent. Not just guts. Understanding."
She paused for breath, then added, "And it's a hell of a lot more useful than whatever you're getting in that classroom."
That made Collei blink. Hard.
Ningguang smirked. "Learn from the road. Learn from me. Trust the process. Become something more than what you are now."
She looked between the two of them. "You can give me your answer tonight... or later. But don't wait too long. This offer has an expiration date."
Silence returned like a heavy blanket. Then—
"I'm in."
The words came quiet but firm. Clorinde straightened, her stance squared, her chin lifted. The light from the lake reflected in her eyes, sharp as glass.
Ningguang smiled—this time, openly, almost proud. "Glad to hear it."
She turned back to Collei, the unspoken question still lingering in the space between them.
Collei hesitated. Her eyes dropped to the gravel at her feet, then rose again. "I... I'll think about it. I need some time."
Ningguang nodded without judgment. "Fair enough. Just don't take too long."
With that, she opened the FC's door and slid in, shutting it with a soft thunk. The engine snarled to life, the idle smooth and deep. She pulled away with minimal drama, the taillights vanishing into the blackness as the sound of the rotary faded down the pass toward Araumi.
Clorinde moved to stand beside Collei, hands in her jacket pockets, posture relaxed but voice sincere.
"You should do it," she said. "It'd change everything for you."
Collei stared ahead, brows furrowed, her hands tucked tightly into the pockets of her school uniform.
"I know... I just... I need a little time. A couple weeks, maybe."
Clorinde gave a simple nod. "Two weeks, huh? Alright. We'll be waiting."
The two stood together in the cool mountain air. The moon hung overhead like a silent witness, and the lake stretched out in silver-black shadows before them. Autumn winds rustled the trees, carrying with them a hint of the coming frost.
Collei looked up at the stars—sharp, distant, and cold. A new year was coming. And with it, a new test.
Maybe even a new self.