The ability to imitate one's action perfectly is something that not most people have; nor do they easily acquire it.
It's an ability that most people envy.
If you could copy the best driver's style, then you could automatically become the best--of course, only second to the original.
Of course, however, copying does have its flaws.
If you can perfectly copy a driver's moves, then you can also perfectly copy their flaws--dealing with the flaws is an impossibility, only the best knows their way around their own flaws.
How do you beat this ability's devastating downside?
You correct the flaws and mold it into a driving style you are comfortable with.
Being able to do this was Riku's greatest advantage.
Regardless of whichever category he found himself dropped into; all he had to do was study the best driver's form and turn it into his own.
This was what earned him his title, "The Copycat"
It was lesser known, but it still existed.
He gained this ability from his own father, the same man who used it to win his first and last championships--the very man who was examining his current lap with a surprisingly dissatisfied look on his face.
With a sigh, he walked up to Hiroshi; gripping onto his shoulder firmly as he stared at Riku's telemetry.
"Cancel the lap."
His words immediately grabbed everyone's attention; Daiki and Khalif being the most surprised.
As drivers, they understood Riku's frustration.
Having such a small gap between him and the lead would have left any racer infuriated; some would have lost their cool had they been told to bring it back home--especially with a chance as hot as Riku's
His car was in perfect condition to go all in, he clearly felt sharper than ever and his driving spoke for him; his first sector was already ahead of his previous lap.
So why call it off?
"The hell are you on about, Yamato?"
"Cancel the lap, you'll lose the advantage you already have."
"A little more faith in your own son maybe?
"Oh I believe in him alright," Yamato calmly responded, a slight chuckle escaping him after he spoke, "...I just don't believe in that hunk of steel he's in."
Hiroshi had to digest the statement for a second, his confusion visibly growing; his brows now furrowed as he tilted his head slightly with his arms crossed.
"What are you talking about, have you finally lost it?"
"Open your damn mind before opening that mouth..."
Yamato's tone had changed; he was serious--so much so that he nearly shouted the words out.
It was more of a low growl, a mix of disappointment and frustration; his narrowed eyes piercing through Hiroshi's thick fog like a hot knife through butter.
Riku was a copycat; a driver who somehow managed to imitate other drivers' style whilst negating their errors and blending it into his own--it was unique, but that alone wasn't enough to set him on the top spots.
Place Max Verstappen or Ayrton Senna in a regular sports car and pit them against modern formula 1 cars and they'd get humiliated beyond their wildest imaginations.
A half of an equation can never give you an answer.
In motorsports, a driver was one part of the equation, his team and supporters were another...the last part of the equation was the car.
"He's only going to keep pushing it beyond its limits," Yamato sighed out, turning his gaze towards BMW's pit box; the M3's headlights meeting him back with a dead stare.
"Regardless of how you look at it, he's not driving anything close to that..."
The more Yamato spoke, the more it made sense to everyone else.
Aya, Khalif and Hiroshi digested Yamato's words a lot better than the rest.
As the car's mechanic, Aya understood how incredibly vast the gap between Riku's current vehicle and that of BMW's team.
It was track built from its very core.
Every bolt, every piston, every panel stuck onto the car--it was built to go fast and handle aggressive driving...as BMW's second driver, Khalif understood this as well.
Riku barely managed to end his second lap successfully whilst copying Khalif alone.
Noticing everyone's suddenly grim expressions, Yamato turned back to Hiroshi; eyes narrowed once more with his brows furrowed as his grip on Hiroshi's shoulder tightened.
"Call it, whilst you still can."
The statement was clear, yet to Hiroshi, Yamato's words meant a lot more than the others could understand.
The look in his eyes explained it all; that wasn't anger, worry was written all over his face.
Of course...
If their car can't survive under the extreme pressure it was being subjected to; then the aftermath wouldn't just be a wreaked car.
Swiftly, Hiroshi shrugged off Yamato's grip as he pulled his seat in; firmly pressing the button with his thumb as he pushed his headset's microphone closer to his mouth.
"Box this lap, box this lap Riku. We will not be attempting another lap..."
A second went by...
Two...
three...
No response came through Riku's end; and unfortunately, both Yamato and Hiroshi knew why.
If anyone were to dive into Riku's mind at the moment, they'd think he was in the middle of a high tension battle between him and the entire grid.
His pupils had dilated, his grip around the wheel was tighter than ever and his breaths were steady.
Behind him was Khalif and ahead of him was the menacing rear end of a BMW M3 GTR; its rear lights flashing for a moment as it dove into a corner, leaving behind streaks of red which Riku quickly chased after.
Barely keeping his car on the track, Riku rebalanced the car before attacking again.
His exit was better, half his car was now inside of the BMW.
He could see the flaws; it was time to correct them.
Where he'd make the attack?
Spoon; he was determined to get ahead of his adversary by the end of the second sector.
The right hand bend was where he'd get the head-start; his exit propelling him enough to bring him side by side with the phantom M3.
Clean and swift...
That was the plan.
His focus was sharply cut by a deafening blast, his car quickly spinning out at the entrance of spoon; gravel quickly splashing all over as his car came to a full stop.
His tyres had held out for long enough but had now finally reached their limits; his rear left quickly making its departure known.
The moment felt unreal to him.
It took him a solid second to digest; his eyes still following the phantom vehicles he had imagined.
For a moment, his gaze pierced through the M3's window, meeting the unfamiliar image of an unknown individual grinning at him as the car passed.
If ever there was a doubt in anyone's mind; then at that very moment, it had been cleared.
He had bitten off more than he could chew.
"Riku! Come in! Can you hear me?" Yamato's words pierced through his thoughts, his shouting nearly deafening him.
"Yeah, loud and clear."
"Thank God! can you get out of the car?"
"I'm sorry...I couldn't..."
"Forget about that, get out of the car and follow the marshals to safety, kid!"
Swiftly after finishing his words, Yamato tossed the headset back to Hiroshi before darting towards the pit box's exit; narrowly avoiding a collision with a lean individual who was making his way towards Nissan's pit box.
A wide grin on his face as he examined the area.
"Khan?" Khalif let out, his tone clearly displaying his confusion as he slowly rose from his seat, "...first time seeing you still on the track at these hours."
"You know the kid?"
Khan's tone was nearly a growl, his eyes locked onto Khalif as he slowly closed the gap between them.
"His name is Riku" Hiroshi interrupted, sighing out as he took off his headset, "He's our rookie this season."
Khan examined Hiroshi for a second, his grin dying down to a neutral expression before growing into a wider smile.
"Ah...I see, so you're the one who brought him..."
"Not exactly; that would be the man that just sprinted past you, his father." Hiroshi responded, stretching slightly as he rose from his seat; his gaze falling back to Khan quickly after, "...if you came here to intimidate us or something, then move along Khan."
Hiroshi's statement sat for a while before Khan quickly burst into laughter, walking towards Hiroshi with slow yet careful steps.
"Intimidate? You've got it all wrong."
"Have I now?"
"I'm here to make a declaration."
"Out with it."
Khan paused for a second; his smile dying back down to a neutral expression as he stared right at Hiroshi with an intensity that sent goosebumps up Hiroshi's arm.
It was hard for him to put it into words, but in all his years within motorsports; he could confidently say that he had never seen a more determined individual than the one he was facing.
The champion of Infinity drive...
"From today onwards, that kid is my rival," Khan begun, before pointing towards Hiroshi with his other arm pocketed, "...meaning, you MUST make it to group one."
A chuckle escaped Hiroshi after hearing Khan speak; a confident smile drawing itself on his face as he stared back at Khan.
"Shouldn't you be making this declaration to him instead?"
"Always a wise-ass, aren't you?" Khan responded, stepping back before slowly making his way to the pit box's exit, "...I'll let it slide this time, I'm too overjoyed to quarrel with you."
"Hey, hold it..." Khalif interrupted, placing a firm grip on Khan's shoulder, "--exit's the other way."
"Don't worry about me," Khan begun, his voice calmer than usual, "...just going to give my thanks to that kid's father"
"Thanks...for what?"
Khan remained silent again, a slight smirk drawing itself on his face yet again; his gaze rising to meet Khalif's.
Once they locked gazes, khalif quickly loosened his grip; eyes widened slightly as he examined Khan's expression.
They had raced under the same banner for years yet not once had Khalif ever seen Khan in such a state.
Was it joy?
Excitement?
Masked frustration?
Or perhaps something beyond his own understanding?
Regardless, the khan before him was one that he had never witnessed...and he didn't know whether to be excited or worried.
"For what?..." Khan begun, brushing off Khalif's arm, "...it felt like that kid and I had an intense battle just now...nothing much."