The smell of disinfectant had seeped into the hallway itself. The clock on the wall read two in the afternoon. Sunlight streaming through the window cast a dull gleam across the polished linoleum floor. Kenta walked half a step behind Ikegaya. The bruise on his face was still a mottled purple. The swelling on his left eyelid had gone down, but the split at the corner of his mouth had scabbed over. "[serious]This is it." Ikegaya stopped walking. Room 302. Kenta swallowed. His throat was dry. His chest felt tight. A clammy sweat seeped into his palms. That night, he hadn't been able to do anything. He'd done nothing but watch as Takumi bled. Ikegaya pushed the door open. The room was quiet. The curtains were half-drawn, and through the window, the ridgeline of Mount Akina was visible. The mountain's green stood out sharply against the blue sky. Takumi was on the bed. Bandages securing his ribs were wrapped thickly beneath his sleepwear. A cast on his right arm. An IV tube stretched from the stand beside the bed, connected to Takumi's left arm. Multiple abrasions covered his face. His unruly brown hair lay disheveled on the pillow. Kenta's feet stopped moving. Takumi, motionless inside the Hachiroku that night. His face covered in blood. Pinned by twisted metal, yet his lips had still tried to say, "I'm fine." And now, he was right here. Alive. But battered to pieces. Takumi's eyes were open. His narrow gaze slowly caught Kenta. Those sleepy eyes were the same as always. But his complexion was terribly pale. "[gentle]...You came." His voice was hoarse. Even that short phrase left him breathless. Kenta couldn't say anything. Words stuck in the back of his throat and wouldn't come out. In the corner of the room, two SpeedStars members stood leaning against the wall. One had his arms crossed, the other stared at the floor. No one spoke. Ikegaya walked up beside the bed. His large hands were clenched tight. Silence alone filled the hospital room. —Had ten minutes passed? What broke the silence was the ringtone of a cell phone. *Brrrrrr.* Ikegaya's face, as he pulled it from his pocket, stiffened rapidly. His eyes, glaring at the screen, trembled faintly. "[cold]...Again." Choking on his words, Ikegaya read the message aloud. "The bastards behind Bloody Moon have filed a dangerous road designation request for the mountain passes with the Gunma Prefecture road management division. Three passes, including Mount Akina. The review for closure has already begun." The air in the room froze. One of the members punched the wall. A dull *thud* echoed. "[angry]You've gotta be kidding...!" The other hung his head low. "[scared]Just because they can't win at racing, they're gonna erase the passes themselves...?" The unwritten rules of street racers. Their pride. Their grit. None of it meant anything. The rules of the "outside" were trying to tear Akina out by the roots. Kenta felt the strength drain from his entire body. *(No way...)* Ryou's threat to "crush the passes themselves"—he'd been serious. Despair took hold of the hospital room. No one could say anything. Words were utterly useless. That was when it happened. "...Forget about my body." A low, brief voice. Everyone's eyes gathered on the bed. Takumi slowly turned his head. The IV tube swayed faintly. His narrow eyes were fixed straight on Kenta, and no one else. "[serious]Protect Akina." For a moment, Kenta didn't understand what he'd been told. "You drive. In my Hachiroku." The words pierced Kenta's chest. "[scared]...Huh..." His voice shook. "W-wait, hold on, Takumi-san! I don't even have a license, I can barely drive properly, and the Hachiroku is... the Hachiroku is wrecked so badly...!" The words wouldn't stop. He desperately lined up excuses. "There's no way someone like me could drive...!" Takumi said nothing. He didn't deny it. He didn't affirm it. He just stared straight into Kenta's eyes. There was no blame in those eyes, no coercion. They were the same as that first night he'd let Kenta ride in the passenger seat. The eyes that had asked, *You got the drive for this?* Eyes that looked at Kenta as a fellow street racer. *(Takumi-san...)* A warmth spread deep in his chest. *(He thinks of me as a street racer.)* Not just a spectator. He was acknowledging Kenta as someone who could carry the torch. It made him happy. But more than that, it terrified him. His legs trembled. The version of himself that had been powerless—now, this time, he had to do something. The weight of it pressed down on him. "[scared]I... I..." His voice cracked. That was when Ikegaya quietly stood up. A large palm rested on Kenta's shoulder. A rough, warm hand. "[serious]We're here too." A short statement. But that voice carried undeniable strength. The members by the wall nodded, one after another. "[gentle]He ain't telling you to do it alone." "[serious]We're Akina street racers too." Not a single one of them told Kenta, "That's impossible." Ikegaya, who that night at Fujiwara Tofu Shop had told him "Don't go rushing off alone," was now pushing him forward. Comrades. For the first time, Kenta felt the weight of that word in his very bones. He couldn't run anymore. Couldn't apologize. Not anymore. Kenta slowly lifted his head. He looked straight back into Takumi's eyes. "...Yeah." His voice didn't shake. "[serious]I'll do it. I'll drive." In that instant, something clicked into place deep in his chest. Something inside Kenta was decided. He would drive to protect. The world he had only ever admired as a spectator—he was now stepping into it by his own will. That was the moment his resolve first took true shape. — The hallway outside the hospital room was quiet. Kenta walked side by side with Ikegaya. Only their footsteps echoed in a steady rhythm—*clack, clack.* Ikegaya stopped in front of the vending machine. *Clunk* went the sound of a can dropping. Kenta accepted the offered canned coffee with both hands. His hands were still trembling. Ikegaya saw it and said nothing. He just stood beside him, drinking his own canned coffee the same way. Words weren't needed. The simple fact of standing there beside him said everything. "[gentle]Think the Hachiroku can be fixed?" Still gripping the can, Kenta murmured quietly. "[serious]We'll ask Maruse-san. We'll fix it, no matter what." The answer was immediate. Ikegaya had been moving long before Kenta ever did. While Kenta was hesitating, while he was agonizing, this man had simply faced forward and done what needed to be done. Once again, Kenta was struck by the weight of having comrades. The warmth of the canned coffee seeped into his trembling fingertips. When they stepped outside the hospital, the afternoon sunlight was dazzling. They climbed into Ikegaya's light truck. The engine started, and the vehicle slowly began to move. Kenta looked out the window. The ridgeline of Mount Akina stood out against the blue sky. He was going to drive that pass. In Takumi's Hachiroku. *(It's not about whether I can.)* He clenched his fist tight. *(I'm going to do it.)* The truck passed through the streets of Shibukawa and headed toward the base of Mount Akina. The mountain drew closer, little by little. The wrecked Hachiroku was still sitting out behind Fujiwara Tofu Shop. Repairs. And then, driving practice. An impossibly huge wall stood before Kenta. But he wouldn't waver anymore. He glanced at Ikegaya's profile as he gripped the wheel beside him. He had comrades. He had someone who had entrusted this to him. That fact alone was enough for now. Outside the window, the green of Mount Akina swayed in the wind.