As the race was set to begin, Collei and Ayato walked toward each other under the dim, bruised hue of the evening sky, the last light of day bleeding into thick storm clouds overhead. A soft drizzle hung in the air, clinging to their clothes and hair, misting the pavement and fogging the distant tree line. The scent of rain, rubber, and high-octane fuel mingled into an intoxicating haze that coated the mountain pass.
They met halfway between the cars—two opposing forces colliding in silence.
"I'm Kamisato Ayato. It's a pleasure to meet you," Ayato said, calm but unmistakably confident, extending a gloved hand.
Collei didn't hesitate. Her emerald eyes burned with competitive fire as she grasped his hand firmly. "I'm Collei of Team Speed Stars. The pleasure's all mine."
Their handshake was brief but unflinching—neither of them blinking, neither giving an inch. It wasn't just a greeting. It was a contract. No fear, no excuses.
Without another word, they turned back toward their machines, engines rumbling to life with the crack of thunder rolling far overhead. Ayato's Lotus Elise barked and settled into a smooth idle, that high-revving four-cylinder whirring like a wasp trapped under glass. Meanwhile, Collei's AE86 came alive with a rougher, throatier growl, its race-tuned Group A Silvertop snarling through a stripped-out exhaust.
At the starting line, Keqing stepped forward, rain soaking into her hair as she raised both arms high above her head. Her voice cut through the storm.
"Let's begin the countdown!"
"FIVE!"
"FOUR!"
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
"GO!!"
Her arms dropped.
Tires shrieked. The Lotus Elise leapt forward like a coiled spring, engine bouncing off the redline at 8,500 RPM as Ayato dumped the clutch with mechanical ruthlessness. The rear tires bit into the wet pavement just enough to catch traction and go, launching him ahead in a blur of white paint and rain spray.
Collei was half a second behind. She finessed the throttle just shy of redline, careful not to overspin on launch. Her AE86 shuddered for half a heartbeat as the rear tires searched for grip, the LSD locking violently before the car clawed forward with surging urgency. The engine screamed through first, then second gear, her right hand snapping through the gears with mechanical precision.
The race was on.
The first S-turn snapped into view.
Ayato's Elise dove into the right-hander with surgical finesse. The mid-engine layout and featherweight body allowed the car to pivot naturally, weight transferring in a smooth arc as his tires bit deep into the wet pavement. The entire chassis rotated like a blade being drawn across a whetstone—cold, precise, efficient.
Collei, a second behind, wasn't so lucky.
She flicked into the turn, but the Eight-Six's tail stepped out sharply. Her rear tires lost traction as soon as weight shifted—old-fashioned FR layout and stiff coilovers working against her in the wet. She countersteered quickly, correcting the angle, keeping the nose aimed forward—but it wasn't clean.
Her teeth clenched. "Son of a bitch. He's fast."
Left-hander incoming.
Ayato rotated through it like the car was on rails. Smooth throttle input. Minimal steering correction. The Elise was in its element—low weight, low center of gravity, wide stance—it danced.
Collei was still playing catch-up. She blipped the throttle mid-slide to reduce the angle, her left foot feathering the clutch just slightly to help reengage traction without upsetting balance. The AE86's tail wavered, caught, and stabilized. Not perfect. But enough.
On the next straight, the tables turned.
The AE86 came alive like a demon breaking its chains. The 2.0L Group A engine roared, each gear pulling long and hard. The tach screamed past 9,000, then 10,000, until the needle kissed 11,000 RPM. She banged into fourth—CLACK—and the revs dropped to 8,000. The scream surged back up, mechanical fury echoing through the trees.
She was gaining. Ayato's taillights grew larger in her windshield. The Eight-Six's raw power and short gearing were working, even if the corners kept biting back.
Farther down the mountain, at the base, Ganyu held an umbrella over Clorinde, the rain now falling in steady sheets. The Lancia 037 behind them sat still and glistening, rain sliding down its aggressive lines. But Clorinde's eyes were elsewhere—locked on the foggy incline, listening to the sound of engines warring above.
"What's so special about a Lotus Elise? It's like a bigger kei car, anyway," Ganyu muttered, shifting uncomfortably. Her tone was bored, dismissive—more out of habit than belief.
Clorinde smirked, not looking away from the road. "Are you kidding me? You really don't get it, Ganyu. Remember what everyone said about Collei's Eight-Six last year? People laughed. Said it was a joke. A has-been car from the '80s with no chance. But how many of those assholes are still laughing now?"
She paused, watching the faint glint of headlights flash through the trees for half a second.
"She's handed us loss after loss. Keqing, Yelan, Silver Wolf, Ningguang, Feixiao—doesn't matter how exotic or expensive the car is. That AE86 has made believers out of every single one of them. She doesn't have Ayato's grip or agility—but Collei's not losing anytime soon. Not with that engine. Not with that instinct."
Back on the mountain, the duel raged.
Collei continued wrestling with every turn. The corners were hell. She fought countersteer after countersteer, the car twitching beneath her with every input. Ayato's Elise, meanwhile, floated through like it was dancing, never overstepping, never stuttering. But the moment the road opened up—boom—the Eight-Six clawed the distance right back.
Then came another S-turn.
Ayato shifted down, heel-and-toe clean, weight transferring perfectly into the apex. His Lotus glided through, tires slicing water cleanly without so much as a squeal. A study in grace under pressure.
Collei tried to match it. She attempted something different—Clorinde's technique—Senna's throttle control. Feathering the gas while maintaining partial load on the outside tires, letting the chassis settle before committing to exit. It worked—barely. Less sliding, more balance. But she was on the edge. Any harder and she'd spin.
Higher up the mountain, March and the others trudged along the soaked roadside, umbrellas barely shielding them from the cold mist and splashing tires.
"Goddamn this rain! I'm soaked like I just took a freaking bath!" March groaned, kicking a puddle.
Amber rolled her eyes. "You could've shared my umbrella from the start, dumbass."
March blinked. "Wait—you mean you were serious about that?!"
Pela laughed. "It's called common sense. Besides," she added, tone sobering, "Collei's the one really dealing with this. She's in the thick of it. We're just wet. She's dancing on the edge of grip at eighty miles an hour."
Seele nodded, scanning the distant light flashes from the mountaintop. "Racing downhill in rain like this... most people would shit themselves."
March grinned and wagged a finger. "But this is Collei we're talking about! The same Collei who beat that S2000 on Jinren Pass, remember that?"
Seele's cheeks flushed. "You mean the run where you were bouncing around in her backseat screaming like a maniac?"
"HEY! That's in the past!!" March flailed. "Come onnn!"
Their laughter echoed off the mountainside, mingling with the distant thunder and war cries of revving engines.
The race surged toward its boiling point.
Collei's AE86 roared behind the Elise, the gap shrinking on every straight. The Lotus had finesse—but the Eight-Six had fury. That Group A engine didn't just scream—it howled, like an animal with something to prove.
Yet every corner was a bloodletting.
Ayato's car danced through with composure, balance, flow. His inputs were invisible. Nothing wasted. He floated through apexes like he'd written the road himself. Collei fought tooth and nail to hang on, wrangling the rear end back into line every time it tried to kill her.
Inside Ayato's cockpit, the calm belied something sharper. A memory echoed in his head.
"Remember this, brother," Ayaka had told him days ago. Her voice was soft, her presence calm—but the words were laced with steel. "The lead car carries the burden. The chaser adapts. But you're not built to chase, are you?"
Ayato leaned back against the Elise, arms folded, eyes narrowed. "I'm not giving her a second chance. One run. That's it."
Ayaka smiled faintly. "Then lead with confidence. And finish it clean. Leave no doubt."
Back to the present.
Another hairpin loomed. Ayato pivoted in smoothly—downshift, rotate, apex, unwind. The Elise took it like a surgeon's scalpel, barely a twitch.
Collei entered hot, too hot—the rear broke loose, fishtailing hard. Her steering wheel whipped in her hands, tires screaming as she caught it in the last instant. The slide cost her.
Inside her cockpit, Collei's jaw clenched so hard it ached. The windshield wipers beat furiously, but they couldn't keep up. Her vision blurred with rain and sweat, heart hammering against her ribs. Her left foot hovered over the clutch, twitching like a nervous tic.
Then her mind snapped back to Ningguang's voice earlier that day.
"You'll see it for yourself, Collei. That little British car's a monster in the rain. But if you want a chance, you have to think backwards."
"Backwards?" Collei had asked, skeptical.
"Flip everything. The instinct to brake late—ignore it. The urge to power out early—suppress it. Reverse every decision you'd make on instinct. That's the only way you'll beat him."
Collei's eyes widened as the longest straight on the course appeared through the mist. She floored it.
The engine howled. Redline. Shift. Redline. Shift. Rain blasted off her hood like bullets. The Eight-Six surged, closing the gap in seconds.
But then—the corner came.
Another fast right-hander.
Ayato sliced it clean. The Elise didn't flinch.
Collei's AE86 snapped sideways again—rear stepping out into a wide arc. She caught it, but barely. More lost time. More distance opened.
"Damn it!!" she shouted. "How the hell is he making that piece of junk look so good?!"
The next corner hit harder. She countersteered into the slide again. Tires shrieked. Her body strained against the belts. She stayed on throttle—but it was costing her.
"I can catch him on the straights," she muttered, jaw clenched. "But if I keep losing everything on these corners... if I can't hold the rear end—then what the fuck am I even doing out here?!"
Her fingers locked around the wheel.
The rain kept falling.
The war wasn't over.
Not yet.
Back at the base, the rain showed no signs of easing. Water pooled on the gravel lot beneath their feet, and fat droplets thudded against the canopy of the large black umbrella that Clorinde held steady above both their heads. Ganyu stood beside her, arms folded, her brows furrowed in a mix of fascination and confusion.
"I still don't get it," Ganyu finally said, her voice soft, puzzled. "Why is Ayato's Lotus Elise so much better?"
Clorinde tilted her head, the brim of her cap casting a shadow over sharp blue eyes. She let out a long breath, not in frustration, but as though the answer were so fundamental it barely needed explaining. "It's all about weight, Ganyu. What's the curb weight of Collei's AE86?"
"About 950 kilograms, right?" Ganyu guessed.
Clorinde gave a curt nod. "Right. The Elise weighs 875 kilos. That's a 75-kilogram difference—roughly the weight of an adult passenger. In conditions like this, especially on a rain-slicked downhill, that kind of difference changes everything. A lighter car transitions faster, responds quicker, and has less inertia fighting the driver's corrections."
Ganyu blinked, absorbing that. "But doesn't your Lancia Rally 037 weigh about the same as the AE86?"
"It does," Clorinde admitted. "But the Lancia's got something else. A perfect 50/50 weight distribution. My engine's in the middle, just behind the cockpit. That central mass means the car pivots like a compass needle. No weird pendulum effect from a front-heavy layout. The grip stays balanced across all four tires—fronts bite in, rears rotate. That lets me precisely control when I want to oversteer or straighten out mid-corner."
Ganyu's expression shifted, eyes widening as realization settled. "So… it's not just about being light. It's about how the weight is handled."
"Exactly," Clorinde said, voice rich with quiet respect—for both the car, and for Ayato's driving. "The Elise is a featherweight scalpel with a mid-engine layout and near-perfect balance. It's not just a car. It's a precision instrument. And in the hands of someone like Ayato? That makes it a fucking nightmare to chase in the rain."
Thunder cracked faintly in the distance. And out on the mountain, under the endless curtain of rain, Collei chased the nightmare anyway.
Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Her breaths shallow. Her mind a vortex of inputs—throttle pressure, steering angle, gear selection, brake force modulation. The AE86 roared down the soaked touge like a banshee with clipped wings, the 4A-GE Silvertop howling as it screamed toward redline.
Reverse everything.
Ningguang's words echoed again, carved into her memory like scripture.
If I can't beat him in a straight fight… I'll beat him my way.
Up ahead, Ayato danced through the corners, the Lotus Elise slicing arcs through the darkness like a scalpel in a surgeon's hand. His grip was calm, precise. The car's steering rack fed him every subtle twitch of resistance through the column. Even in the wet, the Elise was supple and sure-footed—rotating through each bend as if it were made of liquid nerve endings.
"This car is fantastic," Ayato murmured, his voice barely audible over the engine's midrange growl. "But I have to keep it in the groove. Wet corners love this little car. It's so light it floats on the edge of hydroplane…"
His tone dropped, muttering almost to himself, "It'll turn into a leaf if I get sloppy."
He flicked a glance to the rearview mirror—just a quick look.
The AE86 was still there.
Even in the shadow of the rain and the blur of the straights, those rectangular headlights were etched into the storm behind him. They would shrink, then swell again, never fading completely. A presence. A threat. A stalker that refused to be shaken.
"Damn the luck," he muttered, frown deepening. "She's still fucking there."
He downshifted with a clean heel-toe, revs matching perfectly, rear tires gripping just enough to rotate the car cleanly into the next right-hander. Yet even through that textbook execution, the weight of pressure was crawling up his spine.
Behind him, Collei was fighting a war.
The AE86 twitched and slid more aggressively than the Elise. Every braking zone came with a gamble—every downshift with the threat of rear-end snap. The front tires fought to maintain grip while the rears flirted with drift. But Collei never let go. She caught every slide, feathered the throttle through every corner exit, her hands working the wheel in tiny, calculated corrections.
Still, Ayato's Elise had the advantage. On entry. On rotation. On grip.
But Collei wasn't aiming for entry anymore.
As the next straight approached, she muttered under her breath. "Déjà vu."
This was familiar. The same feeling. The same battle of nerves and control she'd fought a dozen times before. But this time, she was fighting smarter.
She took a breath and repeated the mantra Ningguang had drilled into her brain:
If your opponent can drift faster, let them have the entry.
Her right foot hovered over the brake.
Brake early. Set your heading. Aim for the exit.
Her hands moved with almost eerie calm. Downshift. Third gear. Rotate early.
Then—
SLAM the throttle right out of the turn.
The rear tires shrieked as she punched the gas, the 4A-GE screaming to life. The ITBs opened fully, flooding the intake with air, the engine's exhaust note erupting into a banshee wail that cut through the downpour. The tach surged—6,000—7,000—8,000 RPM and rising.
The AE86 launched out of the apex like a bullet from a high-caliber rifle. The chassis squirmed under the sudden torque, rear end threatening to snap loose before the limited-slip diff hooked up and shoved the car forward like it had been shot from a railgun.
Ayato's eyes flicked up to the mirror again—and his blood ran cold.
Those headlights weren't shrinking anymore.
They were growing.
"What the f—?!" Ayato snapped, his voice sharp. "How is she gaining on me so fast!?"
He threw the Elise harder into the next corner, exploiting every gram of its lightweight balance, but now, something had changed. The pressure had flipped. The lead he'd maintained was bleeding away, corner by corner, exit by exit. The AE86 wasn't faster through the bends—but it was hitting the exits like a hammer, using brute throttle and strategic pacing to turn Collei's deficits into opportunities.
She was no longer just following him. She was hunting.
Back at base, the tension was suffocating. Ningguang stood with arms folded, eyes locked on the live telemetry, the occasional wisp of vapor curling past her lips from the cold night air. Beside her, Albedo's gaze was analytical, yet tinged with concern.
"You think Collei understood your advice?" he asked, voice low.
"She should have by now," Ningguang said, a knowing smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "Collei doesn't just memorize. She adapts. She watches. She learns. That's what makes her dangerous."
She nodded toward the display. "She's no longer racing on Ayato's terms. She's shaping the battlefield. If she manages to pass him—it won't be by force. It'll be because she's mastered the chaos of this course."
Albedo tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. "You're willing to bet on her now?"
Ningguang didn't answer immediately. She watched the rain dance across the monitor screen—listening to the delayed roar of the AE86 surging out of another corner.
"…That's something I'm willing to accept," she said at last.
The storm raged on.
But in the heart of it, Collei's storm had just begun.
Across the street, Ganyu and Keqing stood silently, the rain coming down in relentless sheets that shimmered in the glow of the streetlights. The distant symphony of high-revving engines drifted through the mountain mist, a ghostly reminder of the battle unfolding in the darkness. Keqing glanced sideways, her lavender eyes narrowing as she caught the far-off, distant look on Ganyu's face.
"You seem deep in thought," Keqing said, her voice low but probing, trying to pierce whatever memory was haunting her companion.
Ganyu didn't respond immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on the far bend of the course, where headlights briefly flickered behind a curtain of rain before vanishing again into the mist. "This reminds me of our race last year in Jinren..." she murmured, barely above a whisper.
Her thoughts reeled back to that storm-lashed night. She remembered the soaking asphalt, the glare of her own S2000's headlights slicing through sheets of rain. The sound of her VTEC screaming in the high revs, tires hydroplaning on slick patches—every moment etched into her memory. And yet, despite her raw speed, Collei's AE86 had clung to her like a shadow. Then that pass—clean, inside, unshakable. The flash of pop-up headlights cutting through the corner, and Ganyu was left staring at the taillights vanishing into a downpour that seemed to swallow the world whole.
"It didn't matter what the weather was," Ganyu murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "Any conditions. Collei can handle it."
Back on the pass, Collei's teeth bared in a grin, her eyes narrowing behind the wheel. Her breathing was steady, in rhythm with every shift and steering input, synced with the dance of grip and slip. The car was talking to her—and she was talking back. She could feel it through the chassis, the vibration in the pedals, the pull of g-forces with every early brake and throttle-pinned exit.
"It works," she muttered, almost in awe. "Just like before."
As Ayato's Elise initiated another graceful arc through a medium-speed left, Collei once again feathered the brakes early, loading the front tires without overcommitting, the weight transfer settling the AE86 just right. Her hands moved with clinical precision—half-turn left, a quick flick, countersteer held in check—not letting it slide, just letting it rotate. The tires clawed against the wet pavement like talons, and as the corner unwound, she slammed the accelerator to the floor. The ITBs screamed their war cry, the revs surging past 10,000, the Silvertop's howl cutting through the rain like a razor.
The AE86 surged forward, almost violently, closing in.
By the next straight, she wasn't following anymore—she was threatening. Her headlights flooded Ayato's mirrors like the glare of fate closing in.
They reached the final left-hand hairpin before the long straight—a vicious, soaking curve that left no margin for error. Both cars initiated the slide in unison, side by side in a ballet of water spray and screaming tires. The Elise held its arc with balance and grace, but the AE86 snarled its way through the exit, twitchy but alive, eager to strike.
Collei's grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to turn her knuckles white. Her pulse pounded in her ears, syncing with the rhythmic surge of the engine at full throttle. "This is it," she whispered under her breath. "My last shot. I can't let this go to another run. I have to pass now!"
As they burst out of the hairpin and launched onto the second-longest straight of the course, she pounced. The AE86 darted to the right shoulder like a predator lunging from the brush, the rear tires spinning slightly before biting down hard.
Ayato reacted instantly. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "You're not passing that easily!" he barked, his Elise weaving into Collei's line with calculated precision, blocking her advance.
But Collei didn't flinch. Her expression darkened, the fire in her eyes burning hot beneath the mist. Her foot stayed down. Her voice was quiet but filled with steel: "This ends now. Time to... disappear..."
At the finish corner—just ahead—the spectators stood waiting. Beidou, Seele, Pela, March, Amber. Their breath caught in their throats as the unmistakable growl of tuned engines surged louder, like a coming storm through the trees.
March spun around first, her hair whipping in the wind. "I hear them coming!"
They turned toward the bend together—and from the mist, the silhouettes emerged. Two beasts barreling through the rain, locked in mortal combat. The AE86 still trailed—but not by much. Not anymore.
Then it happened.
Collei's headlights blinked out.
In an instant, the front pop-up lights retracted into the hood with a mechanical whir, plunging her car into the shadows.
Gasps echoed under the umbrella.
"What the…?" Beidou squinted into the fog.
Seele's eyes shot open. "Holy shit!"
Amber stumbled back a step, lips parted in disbelief. "No way… The AE86 just… vanished!"
Inside the cockpit of the Elise, Ayato's confidence cracked. His rearview mirror offered nothing but the shimmering spray of his own tires and black, empty road. The silhouette that had been hounding him seconds ago was just... gone.
"Where the hell did she go!?" he snapped, panic rising. He veered right, anticipating another attack. But that was the mistake Collei had waited for.
Behind him, concealed in the darkness, Collei's right foot mashed the gas to the floorboard. The 4A-GE shrieked in rage, the tach climbing violently toward redline—10,800, 10,900, 11,000 RPM—needle pinned. The chassis bucked as the AE86 came alive beneath her, thrusting forward like it had been unleashed from a slingshot.
She made her move.
A precise dart to the left. Her hand snapped the wheel over with practiced violence. The pop-up headlights flared open again like a beast awakening—yellow beams exploding across Ayato's driver-side window.
Ayato flinched. The sudden glare hit him like a flashbang.
"What in the—!?"
Their cars were side by side. Water blasted out from all four wheels in twin rooster tails. Collei's AE86 was nearly kissing the guardrail, the passenger-side tires mere inches from the edge—an all-or-nothing move. The suspension buckled but held, the entire car trembling with the velocity of the gamble.
"Everyone jump for cover!!" Amber shouted, shoving her friends off the road. Beidou and Seele grabbed March and Pela, dragging them into the undergrowth just as Collei's AE86 screamed past, its exhaust note reverberating through the trees like a shotgun blast.
Up ahead, the final bend. The finish line just beyond it.
Collei didn't hesitate.
She snapped the wheel, flicked the tail of the AE86 into a shallow slide, and planted herself right in front of the Elise—slamming the door shut on Ayato's last chance. There was no gap left. No room. No counterattack. Just the white flash of the AE86's rear end cutting across Ayato's line like a guillotine.
Ayato's foot lifted, and instinctively, he fell back.
The AE86 crossed the finish line first. The spray, the light, the sound—everything blurred into a single moment of thunder and fury.
Victory.
Moments later, far from the chaos, Ayaka stood beside Kazuha under a quiet awning, a soft breeze brushing past them. Her expression remained composed, but the weight of the loss was clear in her tone.
"It looks like my brother lost this one," she said, a tinge of melancholy creeping into her voice.
Kazuha stood frozen, his eyes hard and full of disbelief. His fists clenched at his sides. "How? How is that even possible? How did she finish this in a single run!?"
But neither of them had time to dwell on it.
Because deep in the forested course, the storm hadn't passed.
It was only moving uphill.
And now, the legendary Clorinde and her vicious Group B Lancia Rally 037 were revving to life.
Across the start line, Ayaka's AE86 Levin waited in silence—rain pattering on the hood like war drums.
The next battle was about to begin.