Sanemi's grip tightens on the handlebars as he notices Mizu's familiar bike speeding beside him. The two rivals have always been neck and neck in these races. He leans forward, revving his engine louder, determined to overtake his nemesis and claim victory tonight. Sanemi weaves through the obstacles on the course, expertly maneuvering his bike while maintaining his speed. The roar of engines fills the night air.
He glances briefly at Mizu, noticing how close they are getting to the finish line. A smirk forms beneath his helmet. The wind whips past as Sanemi pushes his bike to its limits, the adrenaline rush fueling his competitive spirit. His tattooed hands skillfully control the throttle, muscles tensing with each turn. The crowd's cheers fade into background noise.
Mizu suddenly pulls ahead, and Sanemi's eyes narrow in determination. He shifts gears and accelerates even harder, the engine screaming. The finish line comes into view, mere meters away. Sanemi's heart pounds as he watches Mizu's bike inches ahead. With one final burst of speed, he leans into a sharp turn, attempting to cut Mizu off. The scent of burning rubber fills his nostrils.
Sanemi feels the bike tilt dangerously as he executes the maneuver, but he maintains control. The crowd erupts into chaos. He's right beside Mizu now, their wheels almost touching. The finish line is seconds away, and both racers are determined to cross it first. With a final roar, Sanemi's bike crosses the finish line just milliseconds before Mizu's. The crowd goes wild with mixed reactions.
He slows down and pulls over, panting heavily beneath his helmet. The taste of victory is sweet, but he knows Mizu won't take this loss easily. Mizu brings their bike to a screeching halt beside Sanemi's, the tension between them palpable even without seeing their faces. Their engine ticks as they both sit there, breathing heavily from the intense race. Mizu finally speaks through their helmet. Sanemi can feel Mizu's intense gaze through the helmet, though he can't see their eyes. The silence between them is heavy.
Mizu finally breaks it with a cold, competitive tone. "You got lucky this time, Kaze." Sanemi chuckles darkly at Mizu's words, recognizing the familiar tone of their rivalry even through the modulator. "Luck? That was pure skill, Mizu. Maybe you should practice more instead of talking shit." Mizu revs their engine aggressively, the sound echoing through the night.
"Next time, I'll be the one laughing. Don't get too comfortable on that throne of yours." Mizu speeds off into the darkness, leaving Sanemi alone with his victory. He watches their taillights disappear. Sanemi removes his helmet and runs a hand through his sweaty white hair, a determined look on his face.
"Bring it on, Mizu. I'll be waiting." The crowd begins to disperse, but Sanemi stays seated, staring at the path where Mizu disappeared. He checks his phone, seeing messages from friends congratulating him on the win. But his mind is already racing with thoughts of their next encounter. Sanemi puts his helmet back on and starts his bike, the engine rumbling beneath him.
He drives through the empty streets, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. The city lights blur past as he thinks about the upcoming race. Arriving at his apartment complex, Sanemi parks his bike and walks up the stairs, his muscles aching from the intense ride. He unlocks his door and steps inside, tossing his keys onto the table. The apartment is dimly lit, reflecting his solitary lifestyle.
Sanemi stares at the family photo for a moment, his expression softening slightly. His fingers trace the edges of the frame. He looks to all his siblings and his tired but happy mother. He remembers the days when he had everything, before tragedy struck. The contrast between then and now weighs heavily on him. With a heavy sigh, Sanemi turns away from the photo and heads to his bathroom. He needs a shower to wash off the sweat and tension from the race.
The sound of running water fills the apartment as he steps under the hot spray, letting it cascade over his scarred body. Steam fills the bathroom as Sanemi stands there, his mind still racing with thoughts of his family and the upcoming races. He absentmindedly touches one of his scars, a reminder of the battles he's fought - both on the track and in life. Sanemi's body is a canvas of stories, marked with numerous scars from both his racing and personal life.
His muscular frame is covered in intricate tattoos that extend from his chest down to his arms, each piece telling its own tale of pain and survival. His abs are defined and well-toned from years of intense training, water droplets sliding down each ridge. The tattoos on his stomach continue to wrap around his waist, creating an almost tribal pattern that emphasizes his strength and resilience.
Sanemi runs his hands over his abs, feeling the tension in his muscles. He flexes slightly, a habit from when he first started gaining muscle. The hot water continues to pour down, turning his skin a deeper shade of tan. Sanemi's back story is one of loss and struggle. His family was killed in a tragic accident when he was young, leaving him alone with his younger brother.
He turned to racing as a way to cope with his grief and channel his anger, finding solace in the speed and danger of the sport. His brother, Genya, was the only family he had left. They lived together in a modest apartment, Sanemi working multiple jobs to support them. Despite his tough exterior, Sanemi was fiercely protective of Genya and always made sure he had everything he needed, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.
The memory of that day still haunts Sanemi - the day he received the call about the accident. He had rushed to the hospital, only to find his family gone. He became distant and aggressive after that, pushing everyone away except for Genya, who he blamed himself for not being able to protect. Sanemi steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off. He wraps it around his waist and looks at himself in the mirror.
His reflection shows a man who has seen too much pain, but also one who refuses to break completely. He runs another towel through his wet hair, shaking off the excess water. Sanemi can hear Genya's footsteps in the living room as he dries himself. He knows his brother has been waiting up for him again.
Genya often worries about Sanemi's late-night races, though he never says anything directly. Sanemi grabs his clothes and puts them on, preparing to face his younger sibling.