Keisuke edged his way around the corner that marked the bottom of Akina's slope, easing onto the throttle further as he did so. The engine ahead of him buzzed louder, and the boost gauges rose and fell with a warbling hiss.

Yep, she's feeling just like she used to. It'll take a bit to get used to a road setup after all of this track driving… but this car's got essentially the same characteristics as my racer.

He pushed his foot down a hair further, and the rear tires produced an excited squeal. With a steady hand on the wheel, he guided the FD3S through the corner at a sharp angle, eased up on the throttle, and sailed out onto the straight.

It's been a while since I've hit the mountains. It still feels great.

He threw his shifter up a gear, stifling the engine's roar. He still knew how to drive hard, but his goal tonight was to re-familiarize himself with Akina's toge. It was a course of average difficulty; more technical than the sweeping, high-speed corners of Miyogi, but calmer than the nightmare blind corners of Usui. Keisuke found it infinitely more interesting than Akagi, though; he had long been too bored with his own mountain to bother with it. He cast his gaze to his left, noting the shallow grooves that ran along the side of the road- drainage gutters. They were Takumi's secret weapon, which the boy had used to sully Keisuke's reputation. It didn't chafe the Takahashi anymore, since Takumi's skill had become an asset, and his own abilities had won him much respect. But those concrete divots would always stay with him, for they were a symbol of the first time he had been utterly shamed. He looked back ahead to the road as he negotiated two gentle, consecutive corners, but a flash of blue-white in his rear-view mirrors caught his eye.

Headlights. I wonder who's following me.

The lights grew closer, condensing from bright circles into two glowing trapezoids. Keisuke knew that the bluish tint meant that the headlight assembly was newer, and their height from the ground suggested the large, flat bumper of a new car. He was not worried. There were few new cars that would be able to keep pace with his FD3S on the uphill, and a driver relying on a newer machine probably lacked the skill necessary to pass him. A smile was brought to his face as the lights flashed their high beams, and the right-turn indicators began to flash.

So you want to pass me, huh? Your mistake.

Keisuke completed his turn onto the third straight and shifted down, prodding the hornet's nest beneath his hood to terrifyingly murderous rage. Keisuke felt himself drawn back into his seat as the turbochargers spooled up, pushing his car out of its gentle cruise. He checked the distance until the next corner- there was still a ways to go. Plenty of time to pull away from his new opponent. He kept on the throttle, and checked his wing mirror. Two trapezoids began to snake around, hauling a massive slab of car next to his window.

They've got enough power to catch up in the straight? What kind of-

A brief examination revealed exactly what Keisuke feared. A crease flowed down around the large front wheels, and a deep rumble could be heard over the sound of his own car's shrill rotary.

"It's a Nissan R35… the GT-R," he gasped. Among domestic cars, it was without an equal. Keisuke couldn't make out the exact trim in the dark, but even the most lowly version of the R35 could outpace exotics like Porsche and Lamborghini, and could even make mincemeat of a Ferrari in the corners. He still was confident that his skill surpassed his opponent, but the GT-R was certainly improving their chances. The brutish R35 slunk past Keisuke with a gurgling roar, exposing its quadruple hollow-circle taillights.

I'll overtake them in the corner, Keisuke reassured himself. They probably have no idea how to handle a car that heavy. Besides, I still have the inside.

Determined to stay as close behind as possible, Keisuke continued to pour on the speed, shifting up as the tachometer warned him of the approaching redline. The GT-R continued to pull away, but slowly. He knew if he could keep the gap small, the corner would give him the chance he needed. He counted off the requisite number of posts along the guardrail until he reached the breaking point, shifting down once more. The FD3S' tail broke lose, and Keisuke stomped onto the throttle. He caught the car's oversteer with the wheel at full lock, and began to negotiate his way through the inside of the turn.

That GT-R can't drift. It's got too much grip. It'll be braking through this turn, while I'll be accelerating out of it.

Keisuke was not one to throw caution to the wind, and made sure to check on the status of his opponent. The R35 had not fallen behind, as it should have. It instead maintained a drift in tandem with the FD3S, paralleling Keisuke's movement a few feet away.

How the hell are they pulling that off? How can they attack at that kind of angle?!

For a brief moment longer, the two cars continued to move in parallel. Then, the GT-R shuddered, lurched ahead, and cut across Keisuke's view, dashing past his hood and disappearing in a glowing stream of taillights that faded into mere glimmers further down the straight. Aghast, Keisuke pulled the FD3S out of gear, engaged the handbrake, and scraped to a halt as he watched the four glowing circles dance up and away from him, leaping up the mountain in great swerving bounds.

"What… the hell?"

Keisuke was not entirely sure of what had just happened. There should have been no way for such a big machine to move the way it did, even if it was a GT-R. What had it done? Why had it behaved so strangely? Desperate for an answer, Keisuke flicked on his hazard lights, unbuckled himself, and stepped out of his car. He followed the tire marks from his car's own rear tires back, tracing them until he located the second set. Four wheels left a trail for the GT-R, which made sense for a four-wheel-drive vehicle. But the tracks stopped early, while Keisuke's continued. The seasoned racer placed his hands along the road, feeling the warmth from the distressed compounds the machines had laid down, double-checking that the GT-R's trails really did end. Keisuke looked up, and saw the long straight the car had disappeared down, before looking back down at the tire marks.

"They stop… right where it reached the apex."

He scrambled for the phone in his pocket, and quickly took as many pictures as he could before diving back into his driver's seat. He needed to talk to Ryosuke. This meant trouble.

"You're doing what?"

Bunta had hardly ever seen his son get so worked up before.

"I want to watch you in this tournament. So I'm closing the shop down for the week. I've got just enough in savings to take that kind of vacation, I think."

"No, I mean- I spend how long working with Project D, and you never came to see those races. But now that we're going into this big thing and everything's so uncertain, now's when you're going to be watching my every move?!" Takumi jammed his hands into his pockets more violently than usual.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does your father being proud of you make you angry? All right then, I'll give you a better reason. I've got some old friends of mine coming into town and I want to go hang out with them."

Takumi raised his eyebrows. "Wait, who?"

"Oh, nobody you'd care about. Some doctors and accountants. All boring."

"I'm sorry, dad," the boy sighed. "I'm grateful for your support."

"What support?" asked Bunta. "I'm there for my friends, remember?"

The abrupt hiss of air brakes from outside prevented Takumi from snapping back at his father. He was glad for it too, as his old man was far better at arguing than he was. Takumi ducked out past the tofu shop's counter and stepped through the door to shake hands with Matsumoto.

"Do you have the keys?" asked the mechanic. Takumi nodded and produced them from his pocket- he had been carrying them around in anticipation of the truck's arrival. Matsumoto took them and headed around the shop's corner to locate the resting AE86, while Ryosuke emerged from the hauler's cab.

"Ryosuke!" called the younger racer. "What's the word?"

Project D's leader gave him a sullen look. "Keisuke thinks he's found some of the competition arriving in the area."

"Really? Are they strong?"

"We don't know that yet. But they are very well-equipped. There's at least one Nissan GT-R."

"Could you refresh my memory on what that one is?"

"It's an updated, ultra-high-performance version of the Skyline GT-R. It's a big car with all-wheel-drive and strong acceleration."

"That sounds like an uphill racer to me."

"It was, at least when Keisuke ran into them. It's unlikely anyone would run a GT-R for the downhill. But if that's the kind of machine we'll run into, you need to be at the top of your game, too."

"Right. That's why you're supervising the repairs on the Hachiroku?"

"Exactly."

Ryosuke walked over to the truck and extended the entry ramp, and Takumi followed as they returned to Matsumoto. With a coordinated effort, they rolled the AE86 from its slumber next to the tofu shop, pushing it onto the flatbed.

Takumi hopped off of the truck as the two men began to secure his car. A lazy ribbon of smoke drifted into his vision, and he turned to find his father watching the process.

"She's gone a long way, hasn't she?"

"Yeah. And so have I. But… is it going to be enough to take on the whole world?"

"Guess we're going to find out," sighed the man with a burst of smoke.

Takumi nodded solemnly as the truck rolled away, carrying the Hachiroku off for its final upgrade.

"And slowly, gently…" murmured Holly, peeling away the paper. The thin strip coiled and tumbled away in her hands, until she had completely removed it from the car. In its place stood a series of bold-font letters declaring the machine to be the property of Team Mockingjay. The elf stepped back, putting her hands on her hips.

"Katniss, does this look straight to you?"

The girl did not respond. She instead pressed in her clutch and worked the shifter through each of the gears, focusing on the ghostly, invisible gates below her in the transmission. In the dark of her silent car, Katniss almost thought she could hear something other than the soft clunks between the gears, and the words from her friend.

"Yeah, great," she said softly.

"Katniss, you're not even looking."

"Sorry, Holly," said the girl. She turned and looked out her window, easily finding the yellow lettering against Holly's new electric-blue car. It was a lot bigger than hers, and louder, too. It didn't have a standard transmission, Holly explained, because it was faster to have machines do the shifting for you . Katniss didn't really care. What she knew was that she liked her car. "It looks fine."

"Are you doing all right?"

"No," muttered Katniss, slumping against her seat. "Our lives are on the line, and I can't make it out like I always do. I climb trees, Holly, I shoot things. I can't race."

"A couple days ago, you couldn't drive. Now you're practically my chauffeur," said Holly with a reassuring smile. "If you keep making progress like you are, you'll be in Formula One by next week."

"That's nice to say, but what if you're wrong? What if I'm just having… some kind of beginner's luck? What if I'm not good enough? What if I make one wrong move and fly off the road, and we lose, and the Master of Games calls off the tournament right there, and it's all over? What then?"

Holly frowned. "Then… it's over, Katniss. You said it yourself."

Katniss felt her chest heave in an involuntary sob, bringing her head down on the steering wheel in defeat. "I just- I can't-" she cried miserably.

"Listen, Katniss. If there's one thing I know you can do, it's that when you're in an impossible situation, you find a way to come back out fighting. And doesn't this feel pretty impossible?"

"Uh-huh," she sniffled.

"Good. Because that means I know you're going to be just fine."

"Th-thanks, Holly."

"Don't mention it," said the elf, reaching through the open window to pat Katniss' still-heaving shoulders. "Are you hungry?"

"A-a little."

"Good. I'm going to see if there's any places that do delivery in town."

"Delivery?"

"You call them up, and they bring food to your door."

"Oh," mumbled Katniss. Like in the Capitol.

Takumi double-checked the receipt. The street number did match, but he had driven down this street plenty of times, and he had never once known a garage to be here, let alone one that seemed to have not had business in a while. His first instinct was that he had been prank called, but the order was fairly modest; not the kind of massive quantities pranksters would send to a fraudulent address. Takumi reluctantly stepped out of the Impreza, hauling two bags of fried tofu to the door. Unusually for a business, he found the entrance to be locked. He gave it a knock, which yielded no response. He then tried the doorbell. He could detect no movement inside the building.

Maybe it was a prank call after all.

As he was about to give up and return to the car, the knob began to rotate. It swung open slowly to reveal a girl about his age, perhaps a little younger. She was slightly taller than he was, and was clearly not Japanese.

"I have two orders of fried tofu here," Takumi said, holding out the bag. The girl reached forward silently and took them, closing the door. Takumi pressed the bell again, and she re-opened the door, looking slightly confused and frustrated. "Are you going to pay?"

She set the bags on the floor and produced a thin piece of plastic from her jacket's pocket, which she handed to him.

"A credit card? No, I can't take this," explained Takumi.

"It should be enough," the girl said quietly.

"No, we- we don't take credit. Cash only."

The girl blinked at him, as if he had just told her that they only accepted poison dart frogs as payment.

"H-Holly," she grunted.

Takumi stood still, holding his elbow to prevent his hands from hanging idle.

"What's up, Katniss?" called another voice from inside the building.

"They won't take the card."

"D'Arvit," it growled.

A childlike creature emerged at the girl's side, arms crossed in frustration. Takumi's eyes widened as he picked out the pointed ears, and the glittering, heterochromatic eyes.

"We don't have any cash," she said, the voice sounding lower and prettier than before.

"You don't have any cash," Takumi repeated, understanding their plight intimately.

"You should let us have the tofu for free this time," she continued.

"I should let you have the tofu for free this time," he agreed. Takumi felt strange, light-headed. He was glad he had already handed them the tofu, because he would have crushed it when he toppled to the ground.

"Is he okay?"

"Should be. He's breathing."

"What happened?"

"Some humans can't take the Mesmer. It just wonks them out."

"Ugh," Takumi groaned, prying his eyes open. He seemed to be in the garage's little lobby, reclining on a rough couch. Instantly, he felt a glass of water press against his lips.

"Drink," said the voice of the short creature. "You were dehydrated."

Takumi took a few uneasy sips before bringing himself into a more upright position. The girl and the short thing sat on a coffee table across from him, as did two unopened bags of fried tofu.

"I passed out?" the boy asked.

"No, you got sozzled and this is the hangover," snipped the creature. "Yes, you passed out."

"I can't… quite remember."

"Best if you didn't," the thing said quickly. "We don't have any cash. Can we barter for the tofu? We're in a shop, yeah? Need anything done on your car? I'm sure we can find something worth eight hundred yen."

Takumi knew he wasn't supposed to accept a deal like that, but it had never happened before, and he wasn't sure he wanted to say no to these people, lest he pass out again.

"The gas cap is… a little rusty."

"Aha! Yeah, gas cap, we can do that. "

She got up from her seat on the coffee table excitedly and scrambled across the shop while Takumi and the girl watched. She immediately arrived at a sight familiar to Takumi- the small, red car he had seen on the mountain.

These are the owners? Who… or what are they?

The pointed-ear thing returned with a circular chunk of black plastic.

"See, a new gas cap. I'll just go put this on your car- we'll take your old one."

She sprinted out the door, leaving Takumi quite confused. He turned back to the girl, who seemed slightly closer to normal.

"So… who are you people?"

"We're from… out of town," she said. "My name's Katniss."

"Takumi Fujiwara," said the boy, extending his hand for a shake. The girl took it awkwardly, and instantly Takumi felt the same pulse he had the other night, a soft whisper of an alien language. It disturbed him greatly, but evidently he was not the only one. The girl's own eyes were wide with horror, and she quickly dropped his hand. Takumi had no doubt about it now- this had been the driver. She was not what he had expected.

The creature burst back into the room, holding a silver-brown circle. "Katniss, I'm going to go put this on your car, okay?"

Without the girl responding, it darted away.

"And that's Holly," Katniss said quietly, breaking the silence between them.

"What is she?" Takumi asked.

"An… an alien," Katniss whispered.

Takumi nodded slowly, as if to indicate that he was not going to flee from their insanity.

"Okay, got it," called Holly, leaping back. "Does that cover our tofu?"

"Uh huh," mumbled Takumi.

"Great. We're in town for the tournament, you see."

Oh, no.

"R-really? The Grand Toge Battle?"

"Yeah, that's the one," sighed the alien, taking her seat on the coffee table again. "You've got a WRX out there, I see. Have you ever fancied being a street racer?"

"Uh… um… I… no."

"Well, if you're any sort of gearhead, I suggest you come out to watch us. Katniss will be doing downhill runs in the ZN6, and I'll be covering the uphill in my GT-R."

She threw a thumb over her shoulder to indicate the car in the second service bay, a big, slab-sided beast.

And that's what Keisuke saw. Oh, crap.

"It's going to be a lot of fun, you know. People from all over the world are competing."

"Y-yeah. Maybe I will go and, ah, watch it."

"Absolutely! And just remember to root for Team Mockingjay!"

"Uh huh," he gulped, getting up from his seat. "I'll… see you guys there."

"Sure thing!" called Holly as he scurried for the door. "And next time, we'll have cash for the tofu!"

A warbling burp came from the car parked outside as it started up, and Holly took what had been the boy's spot on the couch, snagging a bag of fried tofu and lifting a light-brown square to her mouth.

"What a nice kid," she said through a mouthful of bean curd.

Katniss didn't feel hungry anymore. It wasn't that she didn't find the tofu appetizing, as she had eaten many things that looked less food-worthy than it. She felt something when the boy shook her hand- some sort of raw power. She could not say for certain, but she had a gut feeling that it was an omen. Holly was wrong about this, and they were going to lose.

"So, what do you think Mifune's up to with this tournament?" asked Yuichi.

"He realized he got old like us," grunted Bunta. "And unlike a gas station or a tofu shop, you can't be an old man and run a race team. He wants a successor."

"A successor to the name of Speed? You really think he'd hand off his power like that?"

"I don't care," laughed Bunta, his eyes closed. "The young guys get to figure that out, they're the ones racing! We can have all the fun we want!"

The two raised their glasses to one another, before Yuichi turned to their younger companion.

"C'mon, Tatsuya. You're a grown-up now, have a drink!"

The sullen-looking young man frowned, erased a line in his notebook, and re-wrote it.

"I do not mean to be cold, Tachibana, but I am drafting a paper on a study I just completed. I have bigger priorities than getting drunk."

"You're as uptight as you always were, Choir Boy," guffawed Bunta after another puff on his cigarette.

"I simply am true to my beliefs," replied Tatsuya. "The human body has a natural state in which it is meant to work. To poison the body with alcohol or smoking disrupts that state. I intend to avoid such disruptions."

Yuichi Tachibana shook his head and finished his glass. "You really did turn into a doctor when you went to med school, didn't you?" The younger man did not respond to this comment, and finished the sentence he was writing before speaking again.

"So your son has taken to racing, hasn't he, Bunta?"

"Yes, that's right," said the smoking man. "His team's going into the tournament."

"And he has been rather successful?"

"I think their team beat all the competition in the prefecture," he chuckled.

"It is a shame, then," said the young doctor solemnly, "that I will be the one to break their streak."