Chapter Two: White Comet, Black Wreck

Eric slammed down the hood to Mike's 3000 GT and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

"That should do it, the throttle was sticking when it got pushed past a certain point, I'd say around 8500 RPMs from the wear on it and knowing how hard you push your machine. It should be fine now, but I'll take another look at it tomorrow to make sure it'll stay fine for the race."

"Hey thanks, I can't believe I didn't pick up on the throttle sticking."

"Probably because in a race, you don't think about it, or feel it, you just worry about slamming the quarter faster than the guy next to you. After the race is over and you're braking, I'd suspect that the sudden deceleration jarred the throttle enough to un-stick it, thus the reason you never knew."

"Jeez man, that's amazing. With all that knowledge up in there, you'd be a killer driver. You sure you don't want to reconsider participating in the SRT?"

Eric leaned against the hood of Mike's car, a hand running through his hair.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I screw up, and next time it might be more than my back that gets all messed up."

Mike only shook his head, putting a hand on Eric's shoulder.

"You can't let one accident keep you from racing. You were good man, REAL good; probably the best togue racer in the States, and you'd only been driving six months! If anyone has a shot at winning the SRT, it's you. C'mon, you can't tell me that you're not thinking about that $10,000 prize, that alone should be enough to get your motor running."

"$10,000 means nothing to me if I'm dead, man."

Mike sighed and fished his keys out of his pocket.

"I guess you're right, but still, you were the best, even if it was only for a few months."

Eric shrugged, "it's in the past man, and besides, no matter how good I am, there's gotta be someone better than me out there."

Mike unlocked his car and slid into the driver's seat.

"Maybe, maybe not. Can you be by at around noon tomorrow? I wanna get a good amount of time in under the hood and maybe test out how she'll run."

"Yeah sure, but are you sure you want to use the 3000 GT? It's not exactly meant for mountain racing, it could be dangerous."

"Yeah I'm sure, man! Trust me, no one can drive a 3000 GT like me, on or off mountains."

Eric shrugged and sighed, "Alright man, if that's what you want, I'll be by tomorrow."

"Great! Seeya then!"

Mike put the key in the ignition and was soon nothing but a set of tail lights in Eric's field of vision.

Eric got home that night, tossing the keys to his car onto his dresser. He didn't even bother getting out of his clothes before lying down on his bed, falling asleep within minutes.

April 15th, 1994. 10 p.m.

"If the spotters are in position, we'll start the countdown."

The walkie-talkie he held gave a burst of static before voices could be heard, saying they were ready and they could begin the countdown anytime.

Eric couldn't believe he was here, in Japan of all places, accepting a challenge he got issued in the mail. Apparently the way he was tearing up the American togue circuit was making the rounds all over, including the togue racing capital of the world, Japan. He sat behind the wheel of his black RX-7, revving the engine to get it warmed. He gripped the steering wheel hard, going over the course again in his mind; he'd only been on it for three days before the night of the race. Now it all came down to one final run on Akagi. He looked over at his opponent in the white RX-7 FC, calmly sitting there as if he was about to leave for a leisurely summer drive. Eric let out a long breath.

"You're ok man, you're cool. It's just another course, don't let your emotions get in the way, just drive like you always do, cold, calculating, and with no mercy."

Eric focused on the course once he heard Kent start counting down from ten.

"Here we go, the best Gunma has to offer against me, rotary against rotary."

At the count of five, one of the members of the team spoke through the glass of Eric's RX-7.

"Don't worry, everyone loses to the Red Suns and the Takahashi Brothers, be glad you're gonna lose to the best of them!"

Eric grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Time to rock."

"GO!"

Both Eric and Ryosuke Takahashi, the White Comet of Akagi, hit the gas and sped off into the night, neck and neck off the line.

Even Eric had heard of the Takahashi Brothers, the Kings of the Rotary Engine. Every big street racing magazine from Japan to the States had covered them and their team, the Akagi Red Suns, some even touted them as the fastest racers on the Kanto Plain. The Takahashi Brothers, Keisuke and Ryosuke, both drove RX-7s, Keisuke driving an FD, Ryosuke an FC, both extremely modified and specifically tuned for mountain racing. Keisuke was the number two driver on the team, with his brother being the best, and most analytical. He would tail on opponent for a short while, and in that short while, he absorbed everything about his opponent, from what his weaknesses were and were his faults lay, to how much power was under the hood of his challenger's car and how worn the tires were. He was a living, breathing, street racing computer, and it was a combination that had made him undefeated in his many years as a street racer. Eric now hoped to break the myth that Ryosuke Takahashi was undefeatable.

They hit the corner at the same time, both of them turning hard to the left, drifting into the turn. They both came out of the turn at the same time, but Ryosuke pulled ahead slightly on the short straightaway leading to the next turn. Ryosuke hit the turn a bit before Eric did, Eric drifting through but Ryosuke gripped the turn, gaining even more of a lead on Eric.

"Damn! He's beating me out of the turns! Plus he knows the course better than I do, I shoulda gripped along with him."

This exchange continued for most of the race, Eric tightening his technique with every turn until, two-thirds of the way into the race, he actually started gaining on Ryosuke out of the turns.

"Damn, this kid's good," Ryosuke said as he blew into the next turn, not needing to look in his rear-view mirror to know he was there. Ryosuke came out of the turn, and when he did, Eric was nowhere in sight, until, that is, he pulled up alongside Ryosuke, maybe a half of a car length behind him.

"If I'm gonna make my move, I gotta make it now!"

Eric figured if he could grip the next turn, he'd force Ryosuke to have to grip as well, since he was cutting off his drift line. Eric hit the brakes to slow down enough take the corner, and just he started to turn, all the traction his tires had just went away and he began to spin.

"Wh-what? Dammit, no! What happened? Between my speed and how good my tires were holding up, I shouldn't be spinning!"

Eric did what he could, but it wasn't enough as his back bumper clipped the guardrail, spinning him into the rock wall of the mountain. He began to slide sideways until the car finally flipped, rolling over the roof and landing back onto its tires, Eric unconscious in the driver's seat.

"Looks like you're finally awake, Mr. Shields."

Eric slowly opened his eyes, looking around the room for a moment before focusing on the face above him.

"Where am I?"

"You're in Takahara Hospital, Mr. Shields; you were in a car accident."

It was then that Eric remembered Ryosuke, the turn, the loss of traction, and then….that was it.

"What happened exactly? I can't remember."

"Well, when the ambulance arrived, it looked like your car had flipped, and from what we saw, it looked like you smacked into the guardrail and then the mountainside before flipping."

"Oh," was all Eric could manage. He was still groggy, and his back felt like a mess.

"Please don't try and move, you're back was badly bruised in the crash, with some bone bruises on the spine itself."

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost two weeks."

"Two weeks? Christ, I gotta call my mom at home, she's gonna be worried sick!"

"It's ok, we've informed her already, you just worry about getting better."

The nurse left the room, leaving Eric all to himself.

"Y'know man, it coulda been worse, you could be dead," Eric spoke to himself as a way to try and kill the boredom.

"That's it, no more. I don't care if Ryosuke stays undefeated until he's fifty, he can stay that way. I'm done. It's not worth my life."

As much as Eric told himself he was done with street racing, and even though it landed him in a hospital thousands of miles away from his home, somewhere in the back of his mind, he couldn't let go of that fact that he screwed up somewhere, that he caused himself to spin.

"There's no way, no way it was me, but….what other explanation is there? Maybe you just lost your edge."

It was two more weeks before he got out of the hospital. The car was wrecked, bought by some guy in Gunma Prefecture for a great price. Eric's pride was shot, his instincts gone. The first thing he did was have the taxi take him to the airport and caught the next flight home.

That was two years ago, but it still seemed like yesterday to him.