INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS
A/N: Hey, everybody! Sorry I've been gone for forever, been pretty busy with stuff. Anyway, this is a side story to Drift Kings 2, and it will all come together before long, but these first chapters are really a prologue. So, welcome my new set of characters, as well as what is hopefully a much better work of fiction then any of my previous works. Enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT own Initial D, Wangan Midnight, any cars I mention, or anything else that belongs to anyone else. Except my OC's, I get to keep them.
ACT ZERO, PART ONE:
February 27, 1999
Tokyo, Japan, A parking area near Tatsumi, on the Wangan line-1:12 AM:
Tanaka Kenji clenched and unclenched his knuckles across the cool metal edges of his steering wheel as he watched a few flakes of snow drift lazily across the long hood of his car. He leaned forward, resting his head against the wheel, feeling the gentle tug across his shoulders from the Sparco racing harness as he did so. This was it. Almost a year now he'd been running the highways around Tokyo, and tonight was what it had all been leading up to.
He took one final deep breath, inserted the shifter into first, and eased off the clutch as he applied power. His Nissan Skyline GT-R rolled slowly from the parking area and made its way to the freeway on-ramp. Kenji locked his eyes forward, drove slowly down the ramp for a moment, then gunned the engine.
The GT-R responded almost instantaneously, lurching forward with a violence only slightly mediated by its advanced all-wheel-drive system. The heavy car pulled out into the six lanes of asphalt; there was little traffic at this hour of the morning and in this cold.
As he accelerated past 70 KmH, shifting into second gear as he did so, he flipped a small switch seated next to the gauge cluster on the dash. The engine suddenly roared up as the exhaust system was bypassed and it began running straight off of the headers.
Kenji shifted through third and fourth, watching his speedometer rise well past 200 KmH as he hit fifth gear and sped over Rainbow Bridge. Then, by the roadside, he saw it. Or rather, he saw them. Two cars parked beside the road, painted in the stand-out two-tone black-on-white of the Tokyo Metro Police. They had certainly heard him coming, perhaps several kilometers out, but they made no attempt to stop him as he flashed past them.
Not that they can really do anything, He thought, But it's not them I'm worried about…
It took less time than Kenji thought for the real trouble to show itself, as a fast approaching pair of lights appeared less than 5 minutes later. The trailing vehicle drew ever closer until eventually Kenji could make out the flashing red light-bar across the roof.
The black-and-white car continued to close in, flashing its light blue tinted high-beams as it did so.
Kenji smiled grimly to himself. This was the life he'd chosen, this was how things would be from now on.
April 7, 1995:
"Tanaka Kenji."
Kenji stood, somewhat shocked, then marched to the front of the room, and stood alongside the podium with the other three individuals whose names had been called. Behind the podium stood the Captain of Kenji's precinct, a small man named Yamada.
He spoke, "With regards to your specific skills demonstrated, impeccable character, and exemplary service, the four of you are hereby transferred to the Special Pursuit Division. Congratulations and good luck."
Kenji snapped a smart salute, along with the others, but it was merely through reflex that he was able to complete the action. Special Pursuit Division? He had heard rumors that there would be spots opening, but had never guessed that he might be so fortunate as to be selected for one. This was going to be-
Great! Oh, just great! Kenji thought to himself.
He swore as he brought the modified Toyota Crown that was his training vehicle back to the edge of the skid pad.
"Alright, now, start from neutral and go again. Remember, under 20 seconds this time."
Kenji nodded, suppressing his desires to throw the instructor out of the car and practice maneuvers over him. Kenji slipped the shifter back into neutral, built up the revs, and waited for the instructor's call.
"3, 2, 1…GO!"
Kenji grabbed first gear and dumped the clutch, tires squealing in protest as the heavy four-door jumped forward. He held in the clutch and grabbed the e-brake, sliding the car around several cones, before doing a 180 degree turn around a pylon and repeating the series back to the starting point.
He slammed on the brakes and skidded the car across the line as the instructor clicked off the stopwatch.
"20.19. Start from neutral, go again."
It took all of Kenji's willpower not to slam his head against the seat in disgust.
September 20, 1995:
Kenji stepped out of the elevator and walked into the long, echoing structure that was the Special Pursuit Division's garage. He began walking down the open center area, checking the numbers stenciled in yellow above each space. In every space sat a car, soon to be some officer or another's high performance machine. He studied the machines as he passed; an old 70-series Supra, a Soarer, a Fairlady Z, a new FD3S RX-7, a pair of older FC RX-7s, a brand new R33 Skyline, and then – space number 107. His car.
Kenji felt a smile begin to creep in at the corners of his mouth. He pulled the keyring he'd just received out of his pocket, and unlocked the driver's door of the R32 Skyline. He slid into the factory bucket seat, but couldn't find the seatbelt when he reached for it. He looked behind him, then smiled and pulled up the straps of a four-point racing harness. He fiddled with the straps for a moment; apparently the mechanic who'd brought the car here was quite a bit…stockier than Kenji.
Having solved that issue, he buckled the clasp at his waist and slid the key into the ignition. The sound as he turned the key sent chills down his spine.
Yes, he thought, patting the leather wrapped steering wheel, you and I will get along quite well.
February 27, 1999, the Wangan Line – 1:19AM:
Kenji wove his gray Skyline through the increasingly small space between a Mitsubishi truck and the concrete center median wall. The police Supra trailing him disappeared behind the truck then was back again, coming around the opposite side. Kenji gritted his teeth, trying to find some way to dislodge the other car from his rear bumper.
As he passed under a bright green road sign, Kenji suddenly got the answer. According to the sign, it was 1.5 kilometers until the turn-off from this part of the Tokyo highway onto the inner route, the C1. And that turn was a left that could be quite sudden and sharp when approached at well over 200 KmH.
Kenji pressed harder on the gas, trying to gain even a few meters on the Supra, but to no avail. Up ahead, however, he could see the inverse "Y" formed by the off-ramps onto and off of the C1 highway. He began to slowly edge the car into the left-most lane, positioning himself at what would soon be the inside line for the corner.
Then, the roads split. Kenji dove into the left corner, waiting until the last possible second to brake and sliding the heavy Skyline through the corner, still keeping his speed above 100KmH. As he did, he saw the front end of the Supra behind him dive as the driver braked hard and soon.
You never could get me in a late braking contest, Hajime.
As his car exited the left turn, Kenji held in the clutch and pulled the e-brake, spinning the car 180 degrees and sliding it into the opposite lane of traffic. Now facing into the Outbound C1 lane, he gunned the engine again and pulled away, leaving the Supra well behind…
The memory of that night still somewhat haunted Kenji. He took a deep breath and held it, trying to clear his mind of such things. When he reached a count of ten, he stood swiftly from his position kneeling on the tatami floor and, in a single smooth motion, unsheathed the katana he wore at his waist, flitting it through a series of tight turns. His imaginary foes vanquished, he returned the sword to his waist, drawing it forward over the edge of the saya scabbard before sliding the weapon back into place. He resumed his kneeling pose on the floor and took another deep breath, the walls of the empty dojo still echoing slightly of the sword's re-entry to its home at his side.
Then, the gentle reverberations of steel-on-steel were drowned out by the swish of the sliding door behind him being opened. Kenji turned slowly to see who had interrupted him and found himself facing another man, about his age, and rather tall for a Japanese person.
The man smiled, "You know you should have just done Judo like the rest of us."
Kenji smiled back at the man, "So you tell me, Hajime. But I've always found Iaido much more…cleansing."
Itazura Hajime shrugged, then looked over to a series of bamboo shinai hanging on the wall. "Care for a quick round?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the training weapons.
Kenji grinned a predator's smile, one he hadn't used in many years, and nodded in affirmation, setting his still sheathed katana back on its ceremonial stand. He turned and deftly caught the bamboo sword that had been tossed to him. The two men squared off in the center of the room and gently tapped the ends of their blades together, forming an "X" in the air between them.
"So, Kenji," Hajime said, as both men drew back and assumed their respective stances, "about a month ago, this silver GT-R blitzed me on the C1. Any ideas about that?"
As he said the question, he lunged forward with a thrust at Kenji's midsection. Kenji parried it to the side and retaliated with a rising, diagonal slash.
"This guy managed to take you on the C1? No idea, my friend."
Hajime sidestepped Kenji's slash and came in with a series of high, heavy-handed blows at his head. Kenji stepped left, right, and then caught the third attack on his "blade". The loud snap of the bamboo swords echoed loudly as both men spun away, Kenji taking a neutral stance while Hajime held his sword in an aggressive, high stance.
"That's too bad, I'd been hearing some rumors that you were getting to know some people in the wangan racing scene."
Hajime came at Kenji again, first a set of two high blows which Kenji blocked, followed with a sudden slash at Kenji's legs. Narrowly avoiding the strike, Kenji swept his own sword along Hajime's, sending it farther along his attack angle than he planned and unbalancing him slightly. Kenji took the opportunity and made a fast slash at Hajime's right arm.
Hajime hissed in pain as the weapon connected, the loose bamboo strips snapping a thin, pink line down his arm. Kenji's predatory smile returned as they squared themselves yet again.
"Sorry, but I really don't know much. At least, no more than when we worked together."
Hajime, now fueled by pain and adrenaline, came at Kenji again. This time he was taking fewer chances, attacking from a middle stance and making mostly simpler, but still effective, slashes at Kenji's torso. Kenji dodged those he could, and parried the occasional one he could not move from, waiting for a breach in his old friend's guard.
"Anyway," Hajime said, his voice strained from the effort of combat, "What are you driving these days Kenji? You always did have good taste in cars…"
Kenji almost lost his balance at the question, but quickly recovered and spun to Hajime's left side. A sudden hard slash landed just above the hilt guard on Hajime's sword and sent it spinning across the room. Kenji, smiling and panting a little from the exertion of the fight, lifted the cloth covered tip of his blade to hover in front of Hajime's throat.
"I think I win," he said, lowering the mock sword and leaning against it.
Hajime nodded, conceding, "That you did. Well done." Suddenly, his eyes changed.
"A word of advice, though, Kenji; don't make runs past our sector again. Next time you won't lose me."
Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Should I know what that means?"
"Just remember."
With that, Hajime returned to his usual self, his eyes losing that momentary hardness, "Well, thanks for the match. I'll see you around…one way or another…"
As Hajime strode from the building, Kenji replaced then shinai on its wall hanger, resumed his kneeling pose on the floor, and took another deep breath, holding it to a count of ten.
March 20, 1999; Bihoro Touge, Hokkaido - 11:38 PM:
The deep blue Nissan Stagea slowly began to shrink in her rear-view mirror as Akima pressed harder on the accelerator, her custom twin-turbo MR2 launching forward in a burst of turbocharged torque. The large diameter blow-off valves chirped loudly as she grabbed third gear, then again when she let off the gas and pulled the hand brake. The SW20 spun into a long high-speed drift, the Kaminari front bumper mere inches from the guard rails and the trees beyond.
Some might accuse one of toying with an opponent; drifting like that, when one had only a tenuous grasp on the lead, but Akima Blaise never really saw it that way. What's the point in winning by a mile, when winning by 5 yards was so much more fun? And at the end of the day, isn't that what it was all about anyway? If anything, she was giving her opponents another chance. If she lost while having some fun with the lead, then so be it.
Not that she was going to lose tonight. She had to admit, though, this guy had some guts. A Stagea may practically be a GT-R underneath, but on top, it was still a station wagon. A very fast one, but a wagon, nonetheless. If this were the wangan, maybe she'd have to work a little harder, but a near stock Stagea versus her MR2 on the touge?
Several minutes later and, just as she had guessed, it was a clean win. Akima pulled her MR2 onto the gravel shoulder that was being used as a makeshift parking lot by the racers. She exited the car, being sure to grab her parka from the passenger seat. It may have been late March, but the snow was barely gone from the mountain passes, to speak nothing of the cold.
Her current "team" members, a loose coalition of drivers who lived near each other and helped each other, looked up as she came over.
"Blaze!" Toshi, probably the best of the group after her, called out, "Nice win, there."
She nodded in thanks, then stopped to look up at the night sky.
"So who's next?"
"Who?" Akima asked.
"Sure, you've still got Takayama to beat, y'know."
Takayama. The current #1 on this particular touge. A man with a perfectly set-up TRD KP61 Starlet and the skills to back it up.
"Honestly," she said, "I don't think I wanna try going after him…"
Toshi nearly fell backwards against his yellow Integra Type R.
"Y-y-you, you what?"
Akima shrugged, "Think about it, if I win, I become the best, right?"
"Well, I mean, yes. I thought that was the point."
Akima shook her head condescendingly, "No, no, no. The point is to enjoy yourself. If I was #1, I'd have to deal with being challenged all the time by, well, people like you. And where's the fun in that?"
It took Toshi a few seconds to recover from that. Finally, though, he regained his voice.
"So, what'll you do next?"
Akima stood silent for a few moments, staring up at the stars. Then she turned back with a big grin.
"Y'know, I have always wanted to go to Tokyo."
March 23, 1999; Yokohama docks - 12:05 AM:
Darren Rochteaux pulled his Honda NSX alongside a bright purple Mazda Roadster and killed the engine, flipping off the series of toggle switches on his carbon fiber center console that controlled the fuel pump and ignition circuits. He freed himself from the Takata harness and slid the Mugen S1 racing seat forward, flipping the latch for the engine cover as he did so. He opened the cover, allowing the engine to rest in the cool night air. He came back around to the front of the car and bent back inside to retrieve his camera bag from behind the seat.
"I'm going to have to confiscate your camera, sir."
Darren nearly jumped out of his skin as a voice came from the unlit warehouse door behind him. He held the bag out with one hand toward the voice. As he did, a Japanese man emerged slowly from the shadows. Darren saw the man reach around his back.
Oh, God, he thought, This guy's gotta be yakuza...he's gonna shoot me…
Then he noticed the man lean forward and double over laughing, barely able to stay on his feet.
Only then did Darren notice the large "SR Powered" sticker on the back of the man's black shirt. The man walked over, putting his arm around Darren's shoulder.
"Sorry, I just couldn't resist that. You're here for the street drift, right?"
Darren, still not fully recovered, nodded mutely.
"Me too. Glad to meet you, my Honda driving friend. My name's Gotou. Ohashi Gotou. I'm a bit of a racer myself. See that silver car over there?"
Darren followed Gotou's finger, "You mean that R32? It's gorgeous…"
Gotou smiled, "Isn't it just. Too bad it's not mine. I have the S14 next to it."
Darren adjusted his view and had to work to keep the shock of his face. Gotou's S14 had originally been white. Or maybe it was red…there were enough body parts of both colors that Darren couldn't guess for sure. The rest of the car was a primer-gray INGS bodykit that was held on with at least 4 colors of zip-ties, and held together with something like 3 colors more.
"Looks…nice."
"I know, right. Just wait till you see how it looks sideways. Speaking of which, I better go get ready. See you around, Afuro-man!"
Darren forced a smile as the man left. In all his time in Japan he had never thought he would encounter someone like that. He shuddered slightly, then started back toward his car to wait for the races to start.
That was when he saw her. A slim asian woman bent over his car's rear fender, snapping pictures of his engine bay. Normally this wouldn't bother him, but the fact that she wore a mechanic's jumpsuit with a speed shop's logo on it bothered him a bit.
Darren's NSX carried within it a C32B V6 from a new NSX. And it had been modified by a close friend of his with a fortune's worth of Mugen parts until it was as it sat now: a street de-tuned version of the NSX touring car's engine. He had never liked the idea that speed shops would spy on each other's work. He knew it probably happened, probably a lot, but it still bugged him.
As he began to walk toward his car, she looked up and saw him coming. She spun and darted back into the darkness between some buildings. He saw a set of red lights flash as she started her car, then watched as an extremely dark red SW20 MR2 pulled out into the street nearby. Darren knew there was no watch he could catch her now. HE had noticed one interesting thing though: her MR2 had a set of Hokkaido number plates.
Kenji Tanaka watched the girl sprint over to her SW20 as the African-American man watched her. Then he was interrupted by the return of one Ohashi-san.
"Gotou," Kenji said, "If I was still a cop, I'd charge you with harassment for what you did to that American."
"Who, Afuro-man? He'll be fine, besides, I haven't had fun like that since we were in high school. You remember whe-"
Kenji held up a hand, "Not tonight, my friend. I want to actually enjoy being here tonight," he said with a bit of a smirk.
Gotou smiled, "Spoilsport."
"Just drive, Gotou."
END
So ends Act Zero, part 1! Stay tuned for part 2 when a new team will take rise! As always, R&R please!