The afternoon sunlight softly reflected off the white body of the Hachiroku parked behind Fujiwara Tofu Shop. Fujiwara Takumi silently dipped a sponge into a bucket, carefully wiping down the hood. His wavy brown hair swayed in the breeze, and his sleepy, narrow eyes were focused entirely on the task at hand. Kenta watched his back while sitting on a stack of old tires piled up behind the shop. His backpack was stuffed full of *Initial D* tankoubon volumes he'd brought from his original world. "[serious]Hey, Takumi-san. Touge battles... they do have rules, right?" Takumi answered without stopping his hands. "...It's not like anyone officially decided them." "But people follow them, don't they? No intentional contact, accept defeat gracefully if you lose, don't involve civilian cars..." At Kenta's words, Takumi finally looked up. On the ring finger of his left hand was an old burn scar. He'd gotten it long ago when he dropped a pack of tofu. "...That's just common sense." It was a short reply, but it carried an immense weight. (*This guy... he lives his whole life by that one phrase.*) Kenta felt something warm spreading deep in his chest. The inhabitants of the *Initial D* world breathed in these unwritten codes as naturally as air, and they drove as naturally as they breathed. It was a weight you could feel on your skin — completely different from just reading about it on the pages of a manga. "[serious]So Bloody Moon is different. They ignore all of that common sense, don't they?" Takumi said nothing. But the hand polishing the Hachiroku's hood stopped, just for a fraction of a second. That brief pause was the clearest answer of all. A drop of foam fell from the sponge, leaving a small stain on the asphalt. (*That's a yes. So those guys really are coming to destroy us.*) Kenta's fingertips went cold. A chill crawled from the back of his neck down to his waist. The *Initial D* world he'd admired and leapt into wasn't just about pure racing. The fangs of hatred and revenge were closing in, right on their doorstep. The wind of Akina blew quietly between the two of them. --- That night, just past ten o'clock, the lakeside parking lot at Haruna was quiet. Moonlight reflected off the lake's surface, shimmering and dancing, while two vending machines standing in the lot cast a faint white glow. On a normal weekend, this place would be bustling with over a dozen street racers, but tonight there were only a few members of the Akina SpeedStars. Ikegaya Kouichirou was away on other business in Shibukawa City and wasn't here. Kenta climbed out of the Hachiroku's passenger seat and stretched his arms wide. The arms extending from his school uniform sleeves were thin — he didn't look like he could handle a fight at all. "[surprised]Huh? It's pretty empty tonight." Takumi silently placed a hand on the Hachiroku's hood, as if feeling the residual heat from the engine. That's when it happened. From far away, the deep bass of engine sounds drew closer. Not just one car. A cluster of similar exhaust notes was crawling its way up the mountain pass. The faces of the SpeedStars members changed color. "...They're here," someone muttered. Led by a black S15 Silvia that had come down the Kan-Etsu Expressway, eight cars poured into the parking lot. They revved their engines — *vroom, vroom* — and parked as if surrounding their prey. Their headlights illuminated the Akina crew, stretching their shadows long across the ground. The driver's side door of the lead car opened. A man with shoulder-length black hair swept back carelessly stepped out. Kurosaki Ryou. From the silver chain around his neck dangled emblems ripped from the cars of opponents he'd crushed. Only the nail on his pinky finger was abnormally long, gleaming eerily in the moonlight. His pupils were small, and his yellowish-brown eyes — like those of a bird of prey constantly hunting its next target — slowly scanned the faces of the Akina SpeedStars. Then, he singled out Takumi by name. "[cold]I've got business with the fastest in Akina." The air in the parking lot froze in an instant. The SpeedStars members held their breath. One by one, the Bloody Moon members got out of their cars and lined up behind Ryou. Eight in total. Every single one of them had the eyes of a predator staring at its prey. Kenta's mouth went dry. Ryou slowly walked up to stand before Takumi. "[cold]I'll take you on. Akina Downhill." A pause. "[cold]Winning or losing doesn't matter. My goal is to destroy that Hachiroku." The words seeped slowly into Kenta's ears. His knowledge of *Initial D* was sounding alarms in his brain. This wasn't just a race. Ryou seriously intended to wreck the Hachiroku. He might even kill Takumi. Ryou twisted the corner of his mouth and continued. "[sarcastic]Unwritten rules of the touge? Who decided those rules? Did those rules protect my dead friend? No, they didn't. He died even though he never followed any rules." He spat on the ground. "[cold]This battle is a stage for smashing your Hachiroku to pieces. Nothing more, nothing less." The SpeedStars members were speechless. The hatred was too naked, too raw. This was an opponent for whom the rules of street racers meant absolutely nothing. Takumi stared at Ryou, his expression blank. It was impossible to read what he was thinking. Kenta's heart began to pound wildly. (*This guy is serious. He really might kill Takumi-san.*) His mind went completely blank. And yet, his legs moved. Without even understanding it himself, Kenta's body slipped between Ryou and Takumi. His thin, 172-centimeter frame stood in the way of the eight Bloody Moon members. Old scrapes marked his knees. His double canine teeth, which showed when he smiled, were now trembling with fear. "[scared]I-I won't let you... make him accept a battle like that...!" His voice shook. He'd never been in a fight. Never even been punched. He was just a high school student. For a brief moment, Ryou narrowed his eyes as if amused. Like he'd just spotted an insect. Then, without a word, he jerked his chin. Three men approached Kenta. The first blow landed in his solar plexus. "Guh—!?" His breath stopped. The contents of his stomach surged upward. The second blow hit his face. Blood sprayed from his nose. His vision turned red. A kick struck his knee, and Kenta's body was slammed onto the asphalt. The hard pavement punched back at his entire body. Another kick to his back. He couldn't breathe. The taste of iron spread through his mouth. "[angry]Keep your hands... off Takumi-san...!" He shouted through the blood. His face was a mess of tears, nosebleed, and dirt, but the words wouldn't stop. "[angry]We're not handing Akina over... to bastards like you...!" Another kick to the head. His vision blurred. His ears rang. Even so, Kenta kept his face up, clinging to the asphalt with trembling arms. The SpeedStars members couldn't move. The eight-against-three numbers disadvantage, and more than anything, the sheer killing intent radiating from their opponents, had nailed their feet to the ground. (*Can't I protect him...? Am I just... completely powerless...?*) Frustration burned hot behind his eyes. If only he had more power. If he could drive, could he have stood up to them? But right now, all he could do was lie on the ground and scream. That's when it happened. "...That's enough." Takumi's voice was surprisingly quiet. He slowly took one step forward. He stood between Kenta, collapsed on the asphalt, and Ryou, looking down at him. "I'll take you on." Just four syllables. The entire parking lot fell silent. Ryou smiled thinly, satisfied. "[cold]Three days from now, late night. Akina Downhill." With that, he turned and walked back to his Silvia, his crew in tow. The sound of doors closing. Engines roared to life, and the eight cars left the parking lot one after another. The red glow of their taillights was swallowed by the darkness of the mountain pass. Silence returned to the parking lot. Takumi crouched down beside Kenta. "...That was a stupid thing to do." His voice was neither praising nor scolding. It was as if he was simply... confirming something. Confirming the nature of Kenta's existence. Kenta stared at the asphalt, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. The frustration of not being able to protect him welled up from the depths of his chest like a hot lump. The part of him that wondered if it had still been worth it, and the helplessness of being able to do nothing, mixed together into a tangled mess. A single tear mixed with blood and fell. In the distance, the fading sound of engines could still be heard. Three days left. At that moment, the wind blowing across Mount Akina felt colder than ever.