With one hand in the engine she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. The Mazda she had been touching up for the past 20 minutes belonged to a wealthy man from another prefecture. If you asked her, a car like that didn't belong to a man like him - a man who only drove it to show his material worth. A car like that belonged on the streets. The racers she knew would kill for wheels that fast.

She closed the hood with a sigh and wiped her hands on stained coveralls.

There was nothing wrong with the car, it wasn't even driven enough to warrant a break check but the man faithfully brought in in every couple of months. And while it was slightly obnoxious, money was money and it was areallynice car.

Bianchi had gone to lunch with a girlfriend leaving Chrome alone in the shop. Although, she had thoughtfully left a plate of something in the office fridge – honestly, everything the woman made turned out so excessively spicy it was inedible and even after living with the women for nearly ten years she was yet to be able to tolerate the extensive amount of spice.

"Chrome-chan! You in?" A familiar voice echoed through the garage.

"In here!"

"Whose care is that?" a man with blond hair – held back with pins or various colors – and a paper bag in his hand entered the office.

Chrome looked up the computer she had been working at, "The Mazda? Or?"

"The Mazda."

"Ah, it's Mitsuya-san's," she turned her chair around to face him, "Are you off work?"

He shook his head and sat in the other chair, "Naw, I'm on break. Thought I'd bring you lunch."

Chrome beamed up at him.

She had met Ken soon after she had started working at Bianchi's when she was fifteen and still in high school. Ken and his friends – Chikusa and Mukuro – were in their third year and were soon to graduate. When they met, Ken had already been racing for two years in a rundown drifter that should have never left the impound.

Since then, Ken had gotten a degree in zoology and worked as a falconer at the zoo nearby. He had stopped racing sometime during college after he wrecked and couldn't get his car fixed and while he still attended races he had lost whatever passion he had for sitting behind the wheel.

Chrome slurped her ramen, "You coming to the mountain tonight?"

"Was planning on it. Is Bianchi racing?"

"Hmmm, I don't think so. Reborn's hosting."

Ken crossed his arms and leaned back, "Since Reborn's hosting, you don't have to set up, right?"

She nodded.

"Then would you maybe like to go to dinner before we head out?"

Chrome choked back laughter, an action that caused her to snort loudly.

"What?!?" he shouted despite his red cheeks.

"You're just so cute sometimes," she teased.

His brow furrowed, "So, will you go with me or not?" he grumbled.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, "Of course I'll go with you."

Bianchi's Motor Shop was in a word, legendary. She had inherited it from her Japanese mother when she was 16 and was currently 27. There was only one other garage that's legacy surpassed her own: Raitoningu Mota a city over. It was run by the infamous racer Reborn and his genius mechanic Verde; it also happened to be the headquarters of the tenth generation of hashiriya known as Ten-Kai – there has always been rumors that they were actually yakuza.

Chrome couldn't believe it first, they were just a bunch of dorks who loved cars after all. But the longer she spent around the races the more she was convinced otherwise.

They were probably yakuza, honestly.

And she honestly didn't care.

American music was playing loudly and as they pulled into the lot the crowd parted.

"Chrome-chan!"

"Ken-kun!"

Numerous voices called out as they made their way towards the start line Ken's arm casually slung around her shoulders.

Bianchi had taken Chrome to her first race when she was 14 and not even working yet. When she was younger the loud music and the bustling crowds only caused her discomfort. But over the years the racing crowd became played a large part in her confidence gain and it eventually became her home.

They stopped once they reached a familiar face.

"Who's running first?" Chrome had to shout to be heard over the enthusiastic crowd.

Chikusa was leaning against the hood of a newly restored Nissan with a lock box carefully balanced on the edge and a notepad in hand and, "Hibari, Muira-san, and the kid."

"Lambo 's racing the touge?" Ken scoffed, "The brat 's got better control on the straights."

Chrome leaned into his side, "It is unusual, but it's not his first ride."

Chikusa shrugged, "Reborn 's letting it fly."

As a whole, there were a few basic rules that applied to all races across the board. Additionally, whoever facilitates a race applied rules of their own.

For instance, whenever Reborn was facilitating, he refused to let anyone drive under the influence and completely bared anyone under the age of 20 from racing – unless of course it was Lambo. Reborn had a begrudged tolerance for the kid.

Ken and Chikusa continued to talk, Chrome searched the crowd for another familiar face.

She smiled widely when she located a friend and kissed Ken's cheek before walking off.

"Haru-chan!" she called out.

Miura Haru sat cross-legged on the hood of her black Toyota her hair thrown up in a messy bun – something that had become her signature over the years.

The women motioned her over excitedly, "Chrome-kun!"

Chrome and Haru had- unknowingly – attended the same undergraduate university and met through Tsunayoshi.

Haru gave her a hand pulling her up onto the hood next to her.

Chrome situated herself against the windshield, "Heard you're drifting tonight."

If it was possible, Haru smiled even wider, "And Kyoko got the night off!"

After successfully completing school in the minimum of six years, Kyoko was a resident in the Emergency Room at the main hospital downtown. Needless to say, she worked a lot of nights.

She and Haru had known each other since middle school and had been together since high school – another set up by Tsunayoshi, apparently. He seemed to be the center of most anything interesting that happened around her. Their schedules frequently clashed as Haru worked days at a private elementary school.

"How 's Ken-chan?"

"Don't let anyone else hear you call him that," Chrome laughed, "No one would ever let that go."

She giggled, "So how is he? How 're you?"

Chrome leaned back with a small smile, "I think we're doing well. We went to dinner before we came out."

Before Haru could respond the crowd started cheering and the music was turned down.

"If you're riding, line up. If you're not, get out of the way," a familiar voice echoed out.

Haru clapped her hands in excitement and pushed Chrome off the hood.

"Come on ladies!" she called out. "It's time to ride!"