A/N: Long chapter, this. Rather emo and angsty too, because that's the mood I'm in. Still laying down foundation, typical of me…very slow, rather plodding as usual…bare with me though, because the action will be starting soon.
I might note…while I'm writing this…for the last THREE HOURS, I have been entertained with the joygasmic burbles of a rather enthusiastic Subaru right outside my window. The neighbours across the road own a Type R (as in, same as Bunta's…only a model earlier…slightly different nose and that's it), in an obnoxiously bright colour of blue. It's got a blatantly aftermarket blow-off valve and a blatantly aftermarket exhaust. How can I tell?
He's been stonking it up and down and up and down and up and down the street repeatedly, breaking only to rev it up multiple times, pause for a few minutes, start it up again and be off. I'm wondering when he's gonna run out of petrol…but honestly…I'd all but forgotten what a joygasmic sound the GC8 STi has!
Btw…thank you pilot-tenkawa and cricketchick1990 for your lovely reviews! I know at some points this story seems a little unrealistic, but hopefully once the foundations are all laid down it will all fall into place. If not…I has edit button :3
Disclaimer: Initial D is the property of Shuichi Shigeno. I still want Takumi for myself though…he's such a sweet lil' thang :/
Edit: Re-wrote a bit here and there, just pulling the characters sliiiightly more in character.
---
"You can bloody believe me or not, but I'm telling you…I've heard the rumours, Aniki!" The hotheaded blonde slammed both hands down on the table separating himself from his older brother, nearly knocking over the two half-finished cups of coffee with the violent motion.
The darker-haired of the pair jumped somewhat despite himself, but only spared a split second for a frustrated glare before embedding himself within his study again. "I have no idea what you're smoking Keisuke, but do you mind? I have an exam soon and I need to cram as much of this into my head as I can before the end of the week."
Keisuke sighed exasperatedly and ran his slender fingers through his haphazardly-spiked hair. "Yeah well once you're done being a nerd, we have some researching to do."
Ryosuke pulled a face. "What? You, research? You wouldn't know research if it kicked you in the head." He didn't lift his head from his textbook.
"The hell is that meant to mean?" Keisuke's mood was degrading by the second. "You're one to talk anyway…since when do you turn down research? What's your damn job, after all?"
"I think the question is," he started with a glare, "Why the hell are you suddenly so interested in chasing after so-called ghosts off in the abyss? We have better things to do with our lives Keisuke. In case you hadn't noticed, no one cares any more. Street racing…it's over, gone, done for."
Keisuke grunted bitterly. "No, your street racing career is over, gone and done for, Aniki. It has been for a year now." He paused a moment to lean into the raven-haired student's personal space. "Some of us still race though." He growled huskily, his anger control a testament to his maturing over the last few years.
"Get out of my face already." Ryosuke placed a large hand in the middle of Keisuke's face and pushed him away. It was late, they were both tired and frustrated, and frankly, ghosts and racing were two of the last things on the older Takahashi's mind at that moment in time.
A vague hint of hurt crossing his angered features, Keisuke grunted in frustration, turned on his heels, and marched out of his brother's room, sure to slam the door heavily on the way out. He threw the door of his own room open then shut again aggressively as he passed threw, collapsing backward onto his bed with a deep sigh.
He had to admit…life currently sucked…all areas considered. For one, his true love was dead. Racing; it was a pastime almost no one indulged in any more. It was a year since he had his last proper race against someone else…nowadays it was simply screaming through all the back roads of Akagi until he was dizzy from going around in circles. Free time…what was that? His time was spent either studying, attending lectures, fixing cars or speeding from one end of the mountain to the other.
And then there was his Aniki. Ever since Fujiwara was killed there had been something blatantly different about the older Takahashi; what was normally a quiet, calculating demeanour had deteriorated into a cold but easily frustrated façade. Keisuke knew that Ryosuke was far more severely affected by the loss of Project D's downhill demon than he cared to ever admit – the fact that it was so blatantly obvious despite the firm denial was more frustrating than the blonde could describe.
Of course, Keisuke had to admit that he missed Takumi terribly as well. Hey, the kid was a decent guy. A good friend, one might say. A brilliant rival and even more brilliant ally. He had respect for him while he was alive…some of it had dissolved when he, as Keisuke partially believed, let himself be hit and killed.
After all…how could the world's most promising racer die from being hit by a speeding car?
Still, the rational side of his mind – something he had never really capitalised on – knew that the Gaijin that had been racing drunk on Japanese roads was solely responsible for the loss of one of Japan's most respected racers outside the professional arena.
Keisuke rolled over with a heavy sigh to stare at his alarm clock. Midnight…how typical. He groaned; there were lectures to attend tomorrow and he needed sleep.
He pulled his t-shirt and jeans off in a rather disgruntled manner, discarding them amongst several other piles of previously worn clothes on the floor. The only thoughts running through his mind – why did every day have to be such a damn mission?
Left in nothing but a pair of dark grey satin boxers, the blonde slipped beneath the covers and killed the room's lighting with a deft flick of a switch at the head of the bed. He always came back to the same thought…why did he bother? Why did he bother at all? He hated studying. He hated not racing. He hated his brother being the way he was, so different to the calm and collected Ryosuke he was used to while he was growing up.
He couldn't be happier with the thought that one day soon, he might just go to sleep and not bother ever waking up.
---
"I won't be back for dinner. Say hi to Mum for me." Ryosuke didn't bother looking Keisuke in the eyes as he slipped into the driver's seat of his glistening white FC. Keisuke, likewise, didn't lift his head from the engine bay of his car. A mere grunt was sufficient reply, in his opinion. After all, he had half the engine bay lying on the ground at his feet in an effort to find something to modify. What else could one do with a lazy Saturday afternoon?
Ryosuke reversed down the long driveway with expert ease and pulled out onto the main street. A less-than-enthusiastic blip of the throttle pulled the FC up to speed with passing traffic, and he was on his way.
Oh how his driving style had changed over the last few years. He had moved on to another period in his life – and he wasn't sure he liked it. Now a med student, this former racer's days of wasting petrol and tyres were over; it was all study these days.
Funnily enough, study wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. Creativity was his domain…running simulations in the days of old, modifying the FC and the rest of Project D's cars to be the toughest competition out there, even dreaming up new surprise techniques when the usual secret weapons had become common knowledge.
All his creative energy came out in cars, it was true. The distinct lack of their presence in his life aside from mere transport wasn't the source of this glum, almost depressed feeling though – Ryosuke was bright, he was smarter than to assume the obvious.
The logical side of his mind knew what the problem was, but the little of him left that was simply raw emotions and humanity constantly argued with the bare facts. The daily battle always wore him thin, even after all this time…he knew he was guilty of taking it out on his younger brother, but when the boy was just so irritating…there was little he could do.
That problem…he found himself dwelling on it once more as he puttered down the road, ignoring bashful smiles and giggles from girls walking down the footpath next to him. He had not been to Akina since the accident. The excuse…it was a long way out of his way, and there was no reason to be there aside to race.
Something he didn't partake in any longer.
Fool. You know you're avoiding Akina because of what happened.
The logical side of his mind demanded attention once more. His body tensed visibly, emotions begging to spring forth.
Hell no. That part of life is history…it's time to be an adult, time to be successful…time to grow up…
He wrinkled his nose, willing the battle in his head to stop.
You're so disrespectful. He was the best racer you knew, yet you won't even see him. You haven't seen him since the funeral! Hell, you won't even go and visit his father!
Takumi's father…Bunta…now there's a thought that hadn't occurred to him before. Logic finally won some ground; Ryosuke took the next right and headed away from his original destination, and back towards the looming mountain range in the distance.
There's no choice. You must face your pain head-on or it will stay with you for the rest of your life and destroy you!
Logic always had a habit of rubbing salt into the wounds, didn't it?
---
It was growing dark by the time Ryosuke found the quiet little town of Akina. Then again, he hadn't left much earlier than dinner time.
Outside one of the stores on the roadside was a grey Subaru, left idling on the turbo timer as the owner lugged shopping bags out of the back seat and onto the sidewalk. Without a second thought Ryosuke pulled over to the side of the road in front of the Impreza, parked up, and stepped out to help the aging gentleman with his shopping.
"Here, let me give you a hand." He began lifting the remainder of the bags out of the Impreza's suede back seat.
Bunta made no effort to continue, but simply stared lackadaisically at the younger man instead. "You're one of the Takahashi boys…Ryosuke, correct?"
He paused, bag handles filling both hands. "Indeed I am."
The older of the pair leaned down to pick up the bags on the footpath and bumped the Impreza's door closed with a knee. In true Subaru fashion it simply refused to close under the light impact, and was only set right by a much harsher thump from said knee. "It's been a while since I've had any guests. Come in." It was more of an order than an offer, but little more could be expected from the elder Fujiwara.
Ryosuke took the majority of the bags and followed Bunta into the kitchen, where he aided in unloading them and putting the spoils of the shopping trip away in their respective places. It was a quaint little house Fujiwara lived in, and strangely enough, he felt somewhat comfortable in it despite his wealthy upbringing.
Groceries sorted, the older man sat himself down on a seat by the bench, gesturing for Ryosuke to join him in a spare perch.
"So. Care to tell me why you showed up all of a sudden?"
Well…there was no denying he could be straight to the point at times.
"I was curious, I suppose." What a pathetic excuse, he scolded himself. "That and…I always felt like I had unfinished business here."
"Oh?" Bunta's eyebrows rose somewhat.
"Yeah." He sighed, resting his elbows on the benchtop. "Everything seemed to stop after that fateful day…the whole world seemed to change, and I didn't do anything to stop it."
"You miss my son, don't you?" His face remained perfectly straight…no hint of emotion on either expression nor tone of voice.
This habit Bunta had of cutting straight to the chase was making Ryosuke incredibly uneasy. No wonder Takumi often didn't get along with him…this old geezer was onto it.
"Well, yes. I think everyone does." He nodded. "He was a good racer…a nice kid. Very few people could find it in themselves to not get along with him."
"Hm." Bunta glanced away as he reached for a pot of tea and a fresh cup. "I'll tell you what, I can see why he always complained about having to do the deliveries every morning on his own. I'd forgotten what a bastard cold mornings are…"
Ryosuke smiled somewhat. This is the Bunta he'd heard about…emotionless, cold, somewhat scathing…yet despite all this, there was still something loveable about the old man. No wonder people respected him for more than just his racing genius.
Silence ensued awkwardly as Ryosuke was given a cup of tea and a moment to enjoy a few sips. Hell, what do you say to a man who's lost his son at the very sport you'd taught him to be brilliant at? He sighed softly to himself, deep in thought.
"A penny for your thoughts." Bunta interrupted him softly, releasing himself from his own train of thought.
"Hm?" Ryosuke put his cup down gently, leaning back to stare idly at it. "Mind's racing at the moment to be honest. Deep down inside, I still can't really believe it happened. Cursed Gaijin…what are they doing on our roads creating a mess anyway?"
"Drunk and disorderly…they should give drinking licenses to those that can handle a good drop without losing it." Bunta sighed into his cup.
"So true." Well, this is awkward. "I'm glad the bastard was deported and tried back in the US."
Bunta simply nodded in response. If he didn't know better, Ryosuke would guess he was almost trying to hold back an outburst of emotion there.
More silence ensued. Two clever minds, two individuals that had lost something great…and one thing that was just too painful to talk about.
"I know there's something you're simply not saying." Once again…straight to the point was Bunta's arsenal here.
The remark caught Ryosuke by surprise…he glanced toward the older man, somewhat stunned, before hunching himself over his teacup again. "What makes you say that?" Idiot…what sort of response was that?
"The blatant silence gives it away. You didn't come all this way just to enjoy my tea."
Ryosuke found himself tied up in knots…was he being outsmarted by an old man? Hell, he was the one supposed to be tying people up in knots. Then again…he'd all but lost his brilliance completely with the hachi-roku. Hell…time to play back.
"Seems you're doing the same. Takes two to tango." Wait, that was a bit rude. "Fujiwara-sempai…you seem to have taken this whole situation with ample grace."
This time it was Bunta's turn to be caught off-guard. "Well…" Really off-guard. "I…haven't been, actually." Oh god, here come the floodgates. "You know, there's a time in everyone's life where they must realise that the statement 'you never know what you've got until it's gone' is as true as they come. I always thought my business and my cars were all I wanted or needed. There was a time where my wife and my racing days took the same place in my heart. Turns out I was wrong on both counts." He paused to take a sip of tea.
Ryosuke listened with interest. "Of course, it's always the most irreplaceable things that leave the biggest holes behind."
"Without a doubt." Bunta's demeanour was slowly deteriorating. He'd never needed to hold a mask over his true feelings so intensely for so long in his life. "Takumi…he and I never really got along as well as we should have, but make no mistake…I was proud of him."
Was that the slightest of falters Ryosuke detected in the older man's voice?
"Sure, he nearly failed school. He was awkward with girls to the point it embarrassed even me. He was an absolute muppet when it came to anything mechanical. But…" He placed his cup down with a sigh – his hands were shaking too much for his liking and didn't trust them to hold the hot item steady. "He was still my son. I've never said this to anyone before, but…I have to admit…I miss that blank expression and his incessant moping about."
Nice save, Ryosuke had to admit. The man was a master of letting things on but covering up as much pride as he could.
Still, this was a battle not too dissimilar to those that use to take place on Akina's slopes. Bunta took his turn to switch it back in his favour. "Takahashi…you were closer to him than you let on, weren't you?"
For once, Ryosuke was lost for words. "Wha…in what way?"
One of Bunta's eyebrows perked. "I don't know, you tell me."
Feeling somewhat fish-like for opening and shutting his mouth in quick succession, Ryosuke scrabbled desperately for words. "Hell…I don't know what to say. He was my student in a way, as well as…I have to confess, a damn good friend. He was hard to dislike, and a surprisingly fast learner. You raised a good one, Fujiwara-sempai."
Bunta couldn't hold back a smirk at that. "Nice save, boy. I know Takumi looked up to you in the greatest of respect…more than he had for me, that's for sure. And I have seen the way you looked at him…that was fondness that superseded respect on any level."
Ryosuke scowled slightly. "If you're implying that…"
"I'm not implying anything." He replied flatly, staring at the cup on the table in front of him.
A shaky sigh escaped Ryosuke's lips. "Takumi was a good kid. A brilliant friend. I was very fond of him yes, for whatever reason…I've never worked it out. I…" He felt his breath hitch as his mind flashed back over those images he saw on the news of the dead boy's mangled body…the moments where tears threatened at the memorial service…the good times they'd had when he was still alive, when he'd completely whitewashed his opponents through sheer luck and simply being who he was. "I miss him."
Ryosuke fell silent for a moment to regain his composure. He was so close to exploding it wasn't funny. Two years…two years of anguish, loneliness and self-hatred was on the brink of splurging forth in one hell of an embarrassing mess, and he didn't want to look half his years in front of a man he just had to respect with all his might.
He wasn't the only one fighting though…but it appeared he still had the upper hand. He heard the other's breath hitch, and when he glanced over at the older man, he saw tears trickling down the aging cheeks and over down the stubbly chin. The sight shocked him…and left his own eyes stinging with tears.
Bunta drew a breath, trying to force it all back in where it belonged. "I miss him too." His voice was thick, bordering on breaking. "He was a good son."
Ryosuke was sure they were both seeing the same images in their minds. Takumi's mangled body…the wreckage on Akina…the news footage when they were tearing the little Toyota apart to pare the lifeless body out of it…even Ryosuke, master of the cold and calm demeanour, couldn't fight it. Tears finally broke forth and trickled down his cheeks, though to his credit, that was all that didn't stay back where it belonged behind his calm façade.
Their morbid thoughts were interrupted by an impatient grown from Ryosuke's stomach. He scowled down at it, wrapping an arm around his middle with a frown. "I should go…I haven't eaten in hours."
Bunta simply nodded as the younger man headed for the front door, then stood to follow a moment later as he dried his face on the back of his sleeve. Ryosuke managed to get almost all the way out of the house before he accidentally brushed by a stack of papers on the coffee table, spilling it and its contents onto the floor.
"Kuso…gomen nasai…" He crouched down to pick everything back up, when he realised what the folder contained.
Every single item that had spilled out of the folder was a photo of Takumi. Baby photos (snuggling his mother in nothing but a nappy), childhood photos (scowling heavily at being photographed in the bath), school photos (complete with awkward, uncoordinated grin), photos with the Trueno (blushing and trying to hide, yet failing miserably of course)…Ryosuke's hands shook too much to be of any use. He stood and turned away from the pile, tears finally flooding forth in their full glory.
"…I'm sorry…" He spluttered, forcing his face not to fall into the typical I'm-about-to-sob-my-heart-out expression…to little avail.
"It's so I never forget him…" Bunta bit his bottom lip and looked away.
Ryosuke once again bit back as much emotion as he could, and caught Bunta's gaze. To anyone watching, the pain evident in both pairs of eyes was palpable and almost too much to bear. Desperately trying to regain control, Ryosuke let out a shaky sigh and ran his hands through his hair…Bunta once again dried his eyes on the back of his sleeve.
"You'll never forget him." Ryosuke forced a smile. "And neither will I."
For once spontaneity took over from sheer emotion…Bunta grabbed Ryosuke in a sloppy bear-hug. Surprised, Ryosuke returned the gesture. The older of the two patted the other lightly on the back before pulling back to simply resting his hand on a strong shoulder.
Funny. This was exactly what Ryosuke used to do to Takumi when he'd done well in a race.
"Thank you Takahashi."
He smiled right back at him through wet eyes. "Thank you, Fujiwara-sempai."
With that he turned on his heels and hunted for the FC's keys in his pocket. A moment of indecision saw him sitting in the driver's seat for a short period, once he found his keys, deep in thought. Despite his sore face and racing heartbeat, Ryosuke felt almost…relieved. A weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Had the lack of reconciliation in regards to Takumi's death really had that much of an impact on him?
Why not continue on this little journey, he thought to himself. He started the FC's engine, heading straight on towards that fateful passage through Akina's mountain pass. The rotary engine purred happily along, minding its own business much as it had for the last two years…it was a rare moment when it was pushed like it was born to be.
As the slopes came rushing up toward him, his foot grew closer and closer to the floor beneath the accelerator pedal; the heady feeling of the turbo's suction-like pull was something he'd all but forgotten the sensation of. It was as exotic and addictive as he remembered – how had he ever given up?
The corners came on faster and faster as his driving became more and more aggressive; before long, the Mazda's rear end was kicking out around the corners like it was designed to, filling the night air with the intense screams of controlled loss of traction and the smell of toasted rubber.
Ryosuke's driving hadn't grown rusty in the slightest. Despite being out of the racing scene for months upon months at this point, he still had it. Flawless control, flawless execution. His driving was as perfect as it had always been.
Still, like everyone before, it tapered off as the hairpins approached – and not because of the tight nature of the corners.
A lump welled up in his throat as he approached that one deadly turn, a shiny new section of Armco marking the exact point he was looking for. The FC rumbled over to the side of the road by the top end of the straight, purring into a soft idle before cutting out completely with just the hazard lights on.
Ryosuke stepped out into the warm summer evening air, drenched in a cold sweat despite the heat. The hand holding his keys was visibly shaking – it was almost as if he were scared of what he might find here.
On the one hand, he might see a ghost…and shatter his scientific groundings into pieces.
On the other hand, he might not see a ghost…and come to, once again, that horrible, shocking realisation that Takumi Fujiwara was gone for good.
Leather shoes crunched softly against the rough, gravely tarmac at the edge of the road by the Armco barrier; Ryosuke found himself staring at the torn and battered foliage by the spot where the Trueno had been parked in pieces…this was the first time he'd been here since their last race. He hadn't ever visited after Takumi's death.
He glanced around, then drew a deep breath. There was something about this particular night that was insanely haunting…he could feel he wasn't alone, yet the world seemed completely empty. Was this what it was to see a ghost? Simply have these uneasy, unsettled feelings that you weren't alone, that you were being watched?
"Fujiwara…"
Silence.
"Fujiwara…if you're here…" What to say, what to say? "…I'm sorry I never came before. I just…well hell. You were our best racer."
He couldn't help but smile to himself. "I know you won't tell Keisuke I said that…it would break his heart."
Oh boy did he feel stupid standing there talking to himself.
"I miss you, Takumi. I wish you were still here. And this is the first time I've said this. If you're here…I'm glad you heard it from me."
He remained there for another minute or so, gazing at that ruined patch of nature. There were still bits of debris, he noticed, from the hachi-roku…two years after, and still pieces remained. What a mess.
Just as he was about to turn to leave, he felt a tingling in his shoulder. It felt almost like…a hand…reaching out to grab him gently. He gasped softly, whipping around to see if anyone was there. Blood pulsed through the veins in his neck with almost painful force as his heart raced.
No one.
A shaky sigh of relief, and he put it down to a lingering sense of Bunta's earlier shoulder-squeeze.
Or was it?
He couldn't be sure…all he knew is he was getting too worked up, too tired, and needed sleep. Without any further hesitation he retreated to the FC, started the engine up once again and turned back to head towards the city.
---
Sad eyes watched as the white rotary headed away. Why hadn't he seen him? He'd been standing there the whole time!
"Ryo…Ryosuke-san, don't leave…"
The softly-spoken, half-hearted words fell on deaf ears…he couldn't see him. It was something Takumi couldn't understand…Itsuki had seen him, yet Ryosuke hadn't. He hadn't heard him either. He stayed where he was, one hand outstretched limply, reaching for the path of the FC.
"Fuck…why does being dead have to suck so much!" Takumi kicked at a small rock in frustration, only to have his foot go straight through it.
"Nyah...just like that…"
Seems he was his own best company as well as his own worst enemy.
What had confused him about that encounter was the fact that Ryosuke couldn't hear him, couldn't see him, yet…yet he'd reacted to Takumi firmly grabbing his shoulder in a desperate attempt to get him to stay. Unfortunately for Takumi, Ryosuke whipping around in a panic had let the ghostly figure crash down to the ground, off-balance, to land on his rear-end.
The world of the dead was something Takumi had not yet truly grasped…sitting and contemplating was not his forte, yet this was what he was sentenced to spending the rest of eternity doing. Sure, he learned quickly…sure, he eventually figured things out…but nothing but endless thought and searching was something that felt like hell to Takumi.
That thought, however…provoked another more frightening prospect. His friends couldn't see him. His father couldn't find him. He could no longer drive, yet was apparently to spend eternity on the mountain he called home…
…was this Hell?