The cold dark eyes stared intently at the screen of the laptop computer perched on the hardwood desk in the light, spacey bedroom. Takahashi Ryosuke was concentrating. Hard.

And the interruption from his brother who suddenly barged into the room is, obviously, not so welcome. But he reasoned out to himself that such interruptions must be endured for everybody's quiet and calm. He paused his rapid typing and wheeled the computer chair around to face his brother. "What is it this time, Keisuke?" he asked mildly, taking a careful sip of the coffee from the mug beside the computer.

"I want to ask you something, aniki," Keisuke said tentatively, gauging Ryosuke's expression. He looked tired, but nothing surprising about the fact, since just last week they finished the Ibaraki battle just last month. He himself still felt the fatigue of racing the memorable olive-green GT-R and its middle-aged yet enigmatic owner.

"What is it? Ask away," Ryosuke said, frowning slightly.

"Er, I just want to clarify that we're going to race in Kanagawa next. Is that right?" Keisuke asked, marveling at the destination already. "Wow, it's-I dunno, a little overwhelming, I guess."

Ryosuke smiled this time. "Yes, that's right, but before we go to Kanagawa, I've challenged a team from Tokyo Prefecture. I think it'll be interesting for you to race in the Tokyo roads before moving on to the more serious aspect of racing that is Kanagawa."

"Are you sure? Tokyo?" Keisuke scowled. "I think that's a little out-of-bounds for our original itinerary for Project D. I mean, Tokyo's great, for a city, but I doubt it if someone there does serious touge battles. And it's the first time I've heard that you set out to challenge someone instead of letting them challenge us one by one."

"Well, it's pretty unusual, I admit myself, but this team is much too passive to challenge someone out of their territory and I think the experience of racing them will go a long way for you. And Keisuke, as long as there are mountains and good roads to go with them in a prefecture, there'll be teams who'll try out the highs and lows of touge racing." Ryosuke enjoyed talking like this to his brother. It saved him from relying in evasive sleep to stave off his headaches. "And also the challengers' natures are so interesting that I'd like to accept their challenge."

"Why?" Keisuke asked curiously. "What d'you mean?" He felt curiosity pooling in his stomach. Or was it just a feeling from eating too much pickles for lunch? He couldn't tell which option exactly suited the sensation, but he was genuinely interested.

"Shall I tell you already?" Ryosuke teased, with a shadow of a grin. "It'll spoil all the fun."

"Come on, aniki!" Keisuke whined, his eyes silently begging for the answer.

"It'll be unfair for the others," Ryosuke said in subtlely cajoling tones.

"Duh," Keisuke grumbled. "Let's see, then. When're battles?"

"Next week," was the reply. Keisuke was astounded, but manfully kept his astonishment carefully away as his brother spoke. "Their strategist asked for this battle to take place as soon as possible, and I couldn't say no to her persistent pleading."

"Err-her, you say?" Keisuke repeated carefully to make sure he heard correctly. "Their strategist is a girl?"

"Yes, and not an ordinary girl either. She has been blessed with the gift of understanding the mechanics of cars. I, personally, take my hat off to her. And if I may add, she has a fierce passion for the Mazda, like I do," Ryosuke noted rather drily.

Keisuke noted the tone of his brother, wondering if "she" is a kind of ex-girlfriend of Ryosuke's. 'I mean, they had three things in common already-they are both stategists, mechanics, and Mazda worshippers. Although there's something unusual in their similarity also,' he thought.

As Keisuke stood there lost in his own mind, however, Ryosuke rotated his chair around and resumed his typing. Then, one hand on the touchpad, he hit the "Send" button on the screen.
He had sent the challenge.

-oooOOOooo-

Fujiwara Takumi yawned as he stepped out in the humid and slightly hot air. The warm season was thankfully passing-Takumi wasn't really crazy for the warmth of summer, since he felt that he'll get a lot of whinings from Itsuki about going to the beach if the warm weather kept up.

The thought reminded him abruptly of Mogi. What was she doing right now in Tokyo? Is she studying well in the university? He had so many questions about her that he almost wished that he had the time to visit Tokyo and drop in to say hello, and perhaps exchange news. Takumi had never been that verbal to begin with, but this time he wished he had even told her how much he'd missed her... how much...

The telephone rang shrilly in the living room of the Fujiwaras. Scowling and wondering who'll call at this time of the day-it was barely eight in the morning-he stomped inside and took the offending phone out of its cradle.

"Moshi-moshi, Fujiwara Tofu Shop."

A smooth, deep voice answered at the other end, saying in a deliberate tone, "Moshi-moshi, may I speak with Fujiwara Takumi, please?"

"Erm, this is Takumi speaking," the curious Takumi replied. "Who is this?"

"This is Ryosuke speaking," the voice at the other end answered. Takumi could almost hear the smile in his mentor's voice as he waited nervously. "We have a battle next week. I want to brief you a bit sooner than this, but I was a little busy studying for an exam the past two days. It's just really urgent back then. Gomen nasai."

"No, that's okay really, Ryosuke-san," Takumi answered. "It didn't matter the least bit, honest."

"Nonetheless, it's rude on my part, I should say, even if it's alright with you." Ryosuke paused for a little while. Takumi didn't answer, however, since he can feel that Ryosuke was going to say something more. He could hear Ryosuke's steady breathing on the other side of the line, apparently weighing the words the latter was going to say.

"The next race is going to be in Tokyo Prefecture. I can't say exactly where, but I guess you'll have to prepare for this well. It was a little sidetracker for our original plans for Kanagawa, but I guess it wouldn't hurt, to have an enjoyable race before the stark seriousness of the challenge in Kanagawa, right, Fujiwara?" Takumi's eyes widened upon hearing the location of the battle, and because of his utter amazement he blurted out-

"Tokyo? For-for real?"

"Hai." Ryosuke seemed amused at his downhill ace's reaction to the news. "Do you know someone there, perhaps?"

"Er-yeah, I do know someone there," replied Takumi, in a rather nervous voice. He had never before needed to tell someone in Project D anything about his personal life ever. Especially about the Mogi part. And if given a choice, he'd rather tell anyone in D-maybe he'd even consider Keisuke-as long as Takahashi Ryosuke won't hear. "But she's-erm-"

"Well, I'll not bother you anymore by lengthening our conversation. If you have acquaintances in Tokyo, that's fine, although I'd like you first to focus on the race. This group is no joke when it comes to the downhill. It's good to say that they don't usually hold pinkslip races, though. It's a bit popular on the Wangan, but I guess touge and hot spot racers are never on good terms there." Ryosuke seemed to notice his initial hesitation, but thankfully for Takumi, Ryosuke seemed to understand his hesitation about the topic and let the matter slide. "I'll be keeping in touch with your training, Fujiwara. I tell you this thing at least-Tokyo racers absolutely hate to lose. All racers hate to lose, of course-but they especially take racing very seriously. I suggest you keep your head down during our stay there and try not to aggravate someone, just in case. They have the unfortunate tendency to settle disputes with battles."

"Hai, Ryosuke-san," Takumi said, absorbing every word carefully. "Er-can I just ask what's a pinkslip race?"

"Well, I think I'll explain it better once we actually enter Tokyo Prefecture and meet face to face. I shall discuss other matters further with you then. For now, though, I will task Fumihiro to supervise your tuning along with Matsumoto." Ryosuke paused, then, as if deciding that that was all he wanted to say over the phone, he continued, "Sayonara, Fujiwara. I'm hanging up." Then a beep, and the phone sounds that are heard usually when nobody's on the line emanated from the receiver, a cue for Takumi to place the receiver back to the cradle on the wall.

"Tokyo, huh?" Takumi muttered, staring at the phone in utter disbelief. "What a strange coincidence. Or was I dreaming again?"

-oooOOOooo-

Over at Tokyo, the elegant blackness of a sleek Mazda MX-5 slips in a tight street and winds its way through occasional night traffic. Thankfully, traffic is a little mild at this time of the night, although it might prove irritating once in Shibuya (particularly in Dogenzaka) and this driver seemed impatient already at this pace as the car pushes its speed further and further still.

Let's try to see the identity of this Mazda driver. Inside behind the wheel, to our surprise, a beautiful dark-eyed girl is tensing her body, her slim white hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly for comfort. Every time she fails to beat the red light, she swears loudly and looks at her watch.

Let's see the time on her watch. By the brilliant lights of the buildings around, we see strapped around her milk-white wrist a delicate Philip Stein watch reading a little past eight o'clock. Her eyes narrow in worry as she sees the time.

"Izumi must be sticking pins into a voodoo doll shaped like me by now," she says loudly to nobody in particular. "Aww, this is totally annoying..."

She glares at the red light, willing it to turn green. She taps the accelerator tersely, causing the car to rumble in tension as it acknowledged the handbrake's hindrance to freedom.

"Come ON!" she screams in desperation.

-oooOOOooo-

Mount Akina's graceful shadowy form was etched against the dark sky as the moon watched it with silvery eyes. The whisper of the wind echoed within the trees as it swept past, leaving a trail of loneliness in its wake. Takumi, as he drove on the mountain's empty roads, felt something close to loss at that moment as he felt the wind buffeting the Hachi-Roku.

He and the Hachi-Roku never felt more alive as they traipsed the well-worn roads of their home course, well aware that each next hard battle is only an introduction to another next battle that is even harder than before. It made Takumi's heart pound loudly as he recalled the location of the next battle. 'Mogi is there...' he thought with a happy sigh at the idea of seeing her face again. It had been too long already...

The Hachi-Roku hummed with a steady determination as it synched its movements to the thoughts of its grinning driver.

-oooOOOooo-

"I got a challenge."

The lovely dark-eyed girl that we saw driving the black Mazda MX-5 earlier was now in a bar in downtown Tokyo, sipping a white lady and looking totally bored.

"Really?" Her friend, a slim brunette with a red streak down her straight brown hair smirked, her scarlet lips a ribbon against white porcelain skin as she toyed with a glass of margarita. "So the boys from Tokyo really wouldn't tire of playing with us, huh?"

"Well, if the threat's from Tokyo, it'll never come. The teams here are all afraid of us to even consider any forthcoming challenge from them." The dark-eyed girl scowled. "Actually, it's from Gunma."

"Wow, are we that famous? I thought we're just homebodies here in Tokyo, but some team coming from that far to challenge us must be something." The brunette sipped her drink and smiled. "So you accepted, Kazumi?"

"Do you even have to ask, Izumi?" the dark-eyed girl, Kazumi, sniped. "I had to."

She then downed her cocktail in a gulp.

The other, Izumi, watched her shrewdly.

"That's not very ladylike, Kazumi," she observed.

"Who cares?" Kazumi muttered. "I don't give a damn for what people think-especially men. They all look stuck-up outside, but inside they only want one thing from women. Submission, that is." She thumped the table for emphasis.

"Is something the matter?" Izumi said, frowning at her friend.

"The next challenging team's leader and strategist is the matter. He's a total butthead." Kazumi was shredding words like a cheese grater. "He returns after almost five years to pester me again. I so hate him-like this-!" And she gestured threateningly into the air.

"I've never seen you like this before, ever," Izumi said sympathetically. "Is he like your ex or something?"

"We-ell, not really," Kazumi muttered glumly, ordering another drink from the bartender, this time a non-alcoholic shirley temple because she remembered that she had to drive later. "He's just a sort of-high school schoolmate. I never forgave him for always besting me at almost everything. I totally hate his guts, his brains, and ESPECIALLY his looks. It's so unfair for me."

"Oh, so you have a crush on him then, but on the other hand he always beats you at stuff," Izumi said calmly, glancing at Kazumi to make sure. Kazumi nodded mournfully.

"And now he shows up after five years and challenges you at something again that coincidentally, both of you do?" Izumi frowned. "Is that even possible out of fictitious love stories?"

"I dunno," Kazumi said miserably, shoulders sagging.

"Wait, didn't you say that you can beat him at 'almost' anything?What's the thing that he can't beat you at?" Izumi asked humorously.

"Seeing who spits plum pits the farthest," Kazumi replied with a very straight face.

"Ew," Izumi remarked. "What's the next team's name, by the way? And their leader's?"

"Project D is our next challenger," was the reply. "And the guy's name is... Takahashi Ryosuke."

-oooOOOooo-

At approximately the same time when those two girls were talking about him, Ryosuke was out on the verandah of their house, watching the moon's silver luminosity washing the tops of the trees and the houses. It was a full moon tonight, one of the first true full moons that he had ever seen for a long time already.

"It looks like a beacon for something," he mused aloud to himself, staring at the unearthly beauty of the queen of the night. "I hope it tells me that victory is coming."

He smiled ever so slightly, his eyes momentarily breaking their everlasting expressionless state to sink in a meditative calm.

-oooOOOooo-

The next morning rose at Akagi with every ounce of energy. Takahashi Keisuke's eyes were forced open by the sunlight hitting his eyelids.

"Ah, c'mon! Can't a man sleep soundly without this interruption!" he grumbled, managing to sit up on his bed and messing his already messed-up hair, effortlessly making a charming picture in bed.

Three knocks sounded like blasts on the heavy wooden door of his bedroom. It usually told the younger Takahashi three things, one for each knock: one, that his aniki was awake; two, that breakfast will soon be ready; and three, that he must get up or he'll really get it. Nothing gets Keisuke out of bed like the thought of what his brother had in store for his sorry butt if he failed to abide by his brother's "three knocks" rule, as he liked to call it.

He leaped out of bed immediately and started dressing in his usual jeans and shirt, whose sleeves he rolled to elbow length for a more casual look. This time he opted for a lighter color, the weather being a little warmer than usual this morning. Then he slipped his feet into white loafers.

"Time to rock the house," he muttered to himself.

-oooOOOooo-

As Keisuke was still just beginning to slip on his clothes, though, Ryosuke was just finishing up his cooking, only pausing in his work to go up and knock at his brother's door. He transferred the eggs from the pan with machine-like accuracy onto the platter, and followed it with the bacon. On a separate dish he placed the pieces of toast, then carefully maneuvered everything into the adjoining dining room and finally to the table.

He stripped off the apron and flung it on the hook that hung behind the dining room doors, his expression a little strained, even for him. He usually enjoyed cooking for his brother and himself, a bizarre request he asked his parents to indulge him in despite of the housekeeper already taking care of everything. Cooking usually took his mind off problems because focusing on the procedures takes half of his concentration and leaves the rest of his mind blank and fresher afterwards as a result.

This morning, however, he found it strangely hard to concentrate on anything but the immediate challenge that loomed in front of Project D. He moved slowly and halfheartedly in the kitchen as he prepared breakfast. Not that he considered this battle as drastically more difficult from all other battles that they've already had (Ryosuke wasn't a fool to make Project D bite off more than it can chew), but because of a subtle hint in Kaga Kazumi's acceptance reply to his challenge: namely, that she'd like to race him in Tokyo for a challenge, not between his team and hers, but between himself and her. Between old rivals for precision and accuracy.

The thought of gripping the steering wheel tightly because of the sheer pressure and adrenaline that only a race can provide was so tempting, so enticing, that he almost lost his head fantasizing about the memories he had of his skin being touched by silky winds as he drove through Mount Akagi with windows rolled down to take in the breeze. If he was asked at that same moment what sensation truly aroused him as a man, he'd immediately reply that the pleasure of racing against a worthy opponent aroused him more than any woman can. Not that he was speaking in literal words, of course.

He sighed as he sat down, ate, and decided to not wait any longer for Keisuke. A familiar tingly sensation pervaded his soul. The touge was calling for him.

Finishing the rest of the only toast he had eaten for breakfast, he threw down his table napkin, grabbed his keys that were lying on the mantelpiece, and almost flew out the door in his haste to quench his overwhelming lust for speed that was craving to be satisfied.

-oooOOOooo-

Keisuke heard the door slam with a feeling of surprise as he made his way downstairs and heard the FC's familiar whirring of rotary power as it cranked up, as battle-ready as ever. The FC usually mirrored his brother's moods, and hearing the car's hum explained it immediately.

He grinned, widely. "He can say all he wants about the must of his being a doctor, but he can never really suppress his love for the rush of racing. It's like a drug addiction with no cure."

Finding himself without anyone to breakfast with, he proceeded to eat his meal alone and think of the upcoming battle in Tokyo.

-oooOOOooo-

Takumi was taking the Hachi-Roku for a morning spin to Takasaki to see Fumihiro Hiroshi, Ryosuke's right-hand man, and his mechanic, Matsumoto Shuichi. He eventually saw the pair in Matsumoto's workshop-slash-garage, looking at some data in a computer.

He decided to walk in by himself since they looked busy, but fortunately Fumihiro looked up at the sound of the Hachi-Roku's engine and spotted Takumi. He met Takumi at the entrance with a handshake and a smile, asked him how is he doing, and led him inside the workshop to see Matsumoto.

"Good, you're here already, Fujiwara, so let's get this started and running," Matsumoto said as he shook Takumi's hand warmly. "Ryosuke-san told me that this next team's good on the downhill, so you'd better prepare yourself. You'll handle the larger share of the pressure."

"I guess so, Ryosuke-san told me something like that on the phone." Takumi remembered the call Ryosuke made the other day. "What is the team's name, by the way? He never mentioned anything about it."

"It's 'Tokyo N. S.,' or something along that line. It means Tokyo no Shihai for short. I think they named their team that way since they particularly focus on Tokyo Prefecture rather than fix their sights on to higher goals like us. They're rather introverted on that line, but every challenger that came to Tokyo had their butts kicked and sent away, so they've had a bit of experience. I guess Ryosuke thought it'll be interesting to race them before moving to Team 246. Maybe he thinks Tokyo N. S. could give us some pointers."

"Tokyo N. S., huh?" Takumi drew his brows together in silent thought but was ultimately beaten. "I guess we have to start our tuning, then. Did Ryosuke-san tell you any specific modifications, Matsumoto-san?"

"What Ryosuke-san told me exactly was, 'Trust in Fujiwara's instincts. Whatever he tells you to modify, modify it without question.' So I guess he'll let you do it your own way, Fujiwara." Matsumoto smiled as he said this, because the famous Hachi-Roku driver in front of him, the Eight-Six of Akina, was astounded at the news of making him modify his own car, his brown eyes widening.

"I-I'm not sure if I can," Takumi finally stuttered, "but I'll try to meet Ryosuke-san's expectations."

Fumihiro smiled lightheartedly. "That's the spirit. Let's begin!"

-oooOOOooo-

Keisuke and Tomiguchi pored under the great yellow hood of the FD, examining the complex rotary engine. The mechanic straightened up first, wiping his brow.

"How d'you want her to run, Keisuke?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, exactly, but I'll try turning up the horsepower a little bit. I've been feeling a little inadequate in the past battle," Keisuke mused as his lanky frame straightened up also to talk more properly with Tomiguchi. "And I want to show those Tokyo guys what the rotary power really means."

"Let's see if that's a good choice. Let's crank 'er up."

The two men nodded at each other and set to work at modifying the FD into a more potent machine.

-oooOOOooo-

Ryosuke dialled a number in his mobile and hit Call. It rang a few times before the person at the other end finally picked up the phone.

"Moshi-moshi. Fujiwara Tofu Shop." Takumi's father picked up, his voice a little muffled as he put his cigarette between his teeth and searched through his pockets for a lighter.

"Moshi-moshi, Fujiwara-san. This is Takahashi Ryosuke. Leader of Project D."

He detected an uneasy silence at Bunta's end, but at last he answered. "Oh. So you're the Takahashi guy. The one responsible for Takumi's getting into these battles lately."

"Well, if you'll say it in rough terms, I guess that's slightly true, although my assistant Fumihiro is the real one who sets up appointments with other teams. But of course he never strikes without my orders." Ryosuke smiled slightly at the old man's reply.

"Oh." Bunta hesitated a bit, then bravely plowed on. "If you want Takumi, he's not here, unfortunately. He's going there in Takasaki."

"That's okay, Fujiwara-san. I actually want to talk to you and that's why I called."

"You want to talk to me?" Bunta grimaced. "And what can a youngster expect an old man to talk to him about?"

Ryosuke sighed softly and said, "I'd like to ask you something that greatly concerns Takumi's future battles. It's about the Hachi-Roku..."

"Mm, yeah. I'm all ears," Bunta said.

Bunta listened to Ryosuke, his brow furrowing slightly at the words he was hearing.

-oooOOOooo-

The day finally came for the Tokyo "expedition," as Nakamura Kenta called it. The three vans were readied and tanked up with gas a day ago because Project D is due to leave early in the morning.

The Project D crew waited in Matsumoto's workshop, their eyes fixed on the flashy yellow of the FD and the battle-toughened white-and-black of the Hachi-Roku that had arrived just moments ago. The two aces had arrived on the scene with Keisuke leading, and are now parked in the garage.

Takumi had gotten out first, his expression a determined one, his eyes a docile brown. Keisuke next, his smooth, slightly arrogant face carefully composed and resembling his brother slightly.

"What happened, Keisuke?" Fumihiro said to the latter, his expression worried. "Why did Ryosuke order us to wait here? Did he tell you?"

"I'm not sure either," was Keisuke's reply. "All he told me was fetch Fujiwara and take him here to wait for him so that we can all leave together. He said that, then left early with the FC. I thought he went here in advance."

"Shoot. Up to now, he never really trusts anybody with information," young Kenta said with emphasis on 'anybody.'

"Well, we already know that my aniki's a sneaky person," Keisuke said, shrugging. "But it still doesn't make sense, what he told us to do. What's he doing to take this long?"

As if in answer to Keisuke's question, a familiar rotary engine whine met their ears, and they looked out on the street in unison to see the gleaming crystal white of Ryosuke's FC skirting the corner of the street smoothly, its tires evidently new and the sound of the rotary engine interlaced with a new sound. And the wide spoiler certainly didn't fail to catch their attention. It certainly broke Ryosuke's stolid resolution to never give off a flashy look, but it was already serving its true purpose. The FC was smooth in every turn, and in corners it would surely counter the instability of drift.

"Is that, a new intercooler?" Keisuke swore softly. "He's not intending to go with that, is he?"

The driver side window rolled down, and Ryosuke stuck his head out, smiling slightly. "I'm sorry if I took so long, but I can't resist to take the FC out for a date on Akagi. It's been so long," he said, his dark eyes lighted up with exhilaration. "And she runs so finely. I can't find any serious fault with the FC, for today at least."

"Maybe that's why you fell in love with that car at first glance," Keisuke said, shaking his head in disbelief at his brother's odd behavior.

Ryosuke smiled. "All right, get ready," he said, his face turning once again into his usual composure. "Let's start!"