Kasumi shifted into first gear, and the Honda S2000 shot forward with a jolt, away from the sparsely lit parking lot, into the darkness of the mountain pass road. The deep sound of the engine turned into a more aggressive growl as she accelerated and took the first ascending curve. I involuntarily gripped the grab handle. Kasumi was driving fast, very fast. Her hands moved fluidly over the steering wheel, her shifts short and precise. She took the corners rapidly, turning in late and accelerating out early, using the entire width of the narrow road. The tires squealed softly in the tightest hairpins, and I felt the G-forces pressing me into the seat. Outside, it was pitch black, only the cone of the headlights cut through the night, illuminating the trees by the roadside for fractions of a second before they disappeared back into the darkness. The road snaked up the mountain like a black serpent, and Kasumi danced with it. The amazing thing was how normal all this seemed to her. Her face was concentrated, yes, but relaxed. No hint of strain, no visible nervousness. She didn't chat, but she didn't seem overly tense either. It was as if she was driving a familiar route, just at a speed that took my breath away. You could tell this wasn't everything yet, that there was no real seriousness behind it yet. It lacked the final, cutting tension I would expect in a real race. This was warming up, routine for her. The actual race, I thought, as we flew up another switchback, will have a completely different intensity. When she gives it her all... A shiver ran down my spine, a mixture of fear and a strange, almost morbid fascination. I was about to experience something far outside my previous world, and part of me was horrified, while another part couldn't wait. The drive lasted a few more minutes, corner after corner we climbed up the mountain. Then the road widened slightly, and Kasumi slowed down a little. Ahead, in the headlights, two more cars appeared, parked on the side of the road, their taillights glowing red in the night. One of them was the blue Nissan Skyline, our opponent. Now Kasumi seemed to come alive, completely in her element. With a quick, fluid motion, she yanked the steering wheel, the Honda's rear end broke loose briefly, and she drifted elegantly around the two stationary vehicles with squealing tires before aligning the car perfectly parallel to the Skyline, both facing downhill – the starting direction. A man in a dark jacket stepped onto the road in front of us. Kasumi slowly rolled towards him. He raised his hand, giving her precise signals with gestures on how far forward she should go. There was no painted starting line on the asphalt, but it was obvious that nothing unprofessional was happening here. Everything seemed rehearsed, routine. The man stopped Kasumi with a hand gesture and then waved the Skyline slightly further forward until both cars stood exactly side by side. The starting position. Kasumi didn't turn off the engine; the deep hum of the S2000 filled the interior. She turned her head towards me. Her gaze met mine with an intensity that seemed to cut right into my soul. It was the same look she had when she left my hospital room back then – a mixture of determination, vulnerability, and something unfathomable. My heart pounded loudly against my ribs. I felt it clearly. In that moment, everything else seemed to fade – grades, friends, the complicated relationships with Hana and Emiko. Right now, only the two of us mattered, here, on the threshold of this race. A slight smile played on her lips. "What are the chances?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. She turned her gaze forward again, briefly analyzing the situation. "The start will be tough," she said matter-of-factly. "The Skyline has significantly more power on the straights. If we manage to stay reasonably close in the first few kilometers, we have a good chance." She paused briefly. "We're lighter, need the brakes less, and can go into the corners faster. At the end of the pass, there are several tight, sharp corners in succession. I suspect it will be decided there." She shrugged slightly. "I estimate it's a 50/50 chance of winning." I was amazed at how she talked about it. Coolly, analytically, weighing every detail – almost like Shigeo talking about strategies in his computer games. No trace of nervousness, just pure concentration and calculation. She glanced at me again from the side. "Ready?" I could only nod, my throat dry. Kasumi gave the man in front of us a brief signal with the headlights. At the same time, I heard the driver of the Skyline next to us provocatively revving his engine, giving short, aggressive bursts of gas, as if trying to show off. My pulse was racing now, adrenaline shooting through my body. I felt it in every fiber – it was about to start. Kasumi focused completely on the man who now stood exactly between the two cars. He raised both arms high, held them for a moment – the signal to get ready. Kasumi gently pressed the gas, the engine's RPM increased but remained stable. You could tell immediately she knew exactly what she was doing, keeping the car perfectly in the optimal range for the start. The man abruptly lowered his hands. It started. Kasumi let out the clutch, and the S2000 shot forward. The acceleration pressed me into the seat, harder than I had ever experienced before. The sound of the engine was deafening, a hoarse, mechanical roar that echoed off the rock walls and swallowed everything else. I glanced to the right. The blue Skyline was even faster. Its engine screamed louder, more brutally, and it immediately pulled past us on the short straight before the first corner, building exactly the slight gap Kasumi had predicted. The first corner approached rapidly, a sharp left turn that looked like a black hole in the darkness. My instinct screamed. I wanted to brake, mentally pressing with all my might on an imaginary pedal, as if trying to push through the metal under my feet. But Kasumi did the opposite. She stayed on the gas, turning sharply only at the very last moment. The car leaned, the tires fought for grip, and we flew into the corner... The car felt like it was balancing on a knife's edge. The G-forces continued to pull at me, while Kasumi corrected the slight slide of the rear end with an almost imperceptible counter-steer movement. Her concentration was absolute, her gaze fixed on the corner exit. The engine howled again as she hit the gas at the apex and accelerated us out of the corner. For a moment, the road was straight. I gasped for air and saw the Skyline's taillights ahead of us. The gap might have grown a little, but not dramatically. Kasumi had gained time in the corner, just as she had analyzed. But the next corner came immediately, a fast right-left combination. Again, Kasumi braked later than seemed safe to me, downshifted lightning-fast, threw the car to the right, then immediately to the left. It was like a dance, a brutal, deafening dance between human, machine, and asphalt. I briefly closed my eyes as we shot through the left curve, the guardrail seeming only centimeters away. When I opened them again, we were on another short straight. The Skyline was still ahead, but the gap didn't seem to be growing anymore. Kasumi's S2000 stuck to the road like glue, following her every command without hesitation. I began to understand what she meant. The lighter Honda was more agile, faster in the corners. A series of tighter S-curves followed. Here, Kasumi was in her element. Her movements became even more fluid, almost hypnotic. Steering, shifting, braking, accelerating – everything merged seamlessly. The car moved beneath us, alive, agile. The fear slowly gave way to a state of exhilaration, a mixture of adrenaline and incredulous awe at Kasumi's skills. She wasn't just driving fast; she mastered this road, this machine. After the corner combination, another straight followed, a bit longer this time. The Skyline ahead used its extra power and pulled away a few more meters, but the gap was definitely smaller than after the first corner. Kasumi had caught up in the technical sections. She can do this, I thought. She can really beat him. The thought filled me with unexpected excitement. I was no longer just a terrified passenger. I was part of it. Part of our race.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.