I have been toying with a racing AU for a while; everything from a realistic AU to a space-age one to underground racing to a Speed Racer-esque universe. This is a modern AU version. I may or may not come back to this.

Racing Hearts

He checked the address again.

The number spray-painted on the cracked, uneven curb matched the one hastily scrawled on the whisky-splattered cocktail napkin.

"So this is it," he murmured, taking it all in.

The garage wasn't in the best area of town, which he supposed shouldn't surprise him.

He'd heard that the owner had fallen on hard times.

That was about all the man at the bar had told him; that and that he'd find the answer to his problems here. He wasn't even sure if he was supposed to be looking for the owner or someone who worked here, but he was told to go early and to go alone.

He pulled his car over and parked, noting that despite the location, the grounds and building were well maintained, and there was an air of dependability in the aging neighborhood

He picked his way over the broken sidewalk, pausing to listen.

The whir of machinery trickled out into the early light, as well as the faint strains of classic rock crackling through an old radio.

The sign on the door was flipped to 'closed,' but the doors to the main garage were open.

He strode in, and a pleasant chime rang in the building.

"Hold on!" a muffled voice came up from under a battered truck. "Be right out."

The squeak of wheels and a clatter of a wrench being tossed in a tool-box later, a figure in coveralls emerged.

"We aren't open yet," the cheerful greeting came closer, "is there something I can do for..,Oh." The tone went flat. "Never mind."

Pearlescent eyes locked with hazel as she stared him down, hands on hips.

"We're closed," she said coolly, before turning on her heel and striding back into the garage.

"I can see that," he returned sardonically, looking around the empty-but-for-her shop. "It's a wonder you even bother opening."

"I don't," she smiled, all steel-barbed honey. "At least not for you or anyone in your clan. Don't know how you found your way here, but you can find yourself back to wherever you came from."

She yanked down the zipper of her coveralls and shrugged out of the top half before tying the sleeves around her waist.

Her cheek had a streak of dirt that read like warpaint in the defiance of her features. Her black athletic tanktop hugged a solid core and revealed, taut, well-muscled arms. She turned an equally muscled and strong back to him and went over to a work bench and began scribbling rapidly on a clipboard. Her entire posture screamed that she could be tipped to hostile faster than he could count the two buns on the top of her head. All of this might have served as a warning to a sensible man.

He wasn't feeling particularly sensible.

"That is a pretty decided attitude to have about someone you've never met," he said idly, "Aren't you even curious about why I am here?"

"No," she said curtly. "And I don't need to meet anyone else from your clan, thank you very much."

"Neji," he supplied, much to her annoyance and his amusement. "Hyūga Neji, but I believe you deduced that."

"Fine," she flicked through the pages on her clipboard. "Goodbye, Neji. Door's that way," she jerked her thumb at the open garage door behind him.

There was something in the pertness of her eyes and mouth that told him she was indeed curious – by nature if not by incident – no matter what she said to the contrary.

He wandered into the garage while she pointedly ignored him.

"What is that over there?" he asked, pointing.

"Unless you are looking at the exit," she said, distracted by the figures she was comparing, "Then it's none of your concern."

She was so absorbed in what she was doing, she thought he might have left.

Until she heard the fwhoop' of fabric being flicked back and the dull thud of canvas hitting the floor.

"Ahh," the sound of enlightenment was muffled. "So that's where it got to."

She dropped everything and stalked over to where he stood, hands on hips, eyeing the beautiful vehicle that had been hidden under the unassuming cover.

It was sleek and fast and jet black with two green stripes running up the hood, over the roof, and down the back.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she shoved past him to get the cover off of the floor and back onto the vehicle.

"Who me?" he tried a door and found it to be unlocked. "Nothing. I'm not even here." He slid into the passenger seat and looked around the car with appreciation.

"Green interior," he noted. "So this really is the Springtime of Youth."

"Get your ass out of that car," she seethed, hands fisted in the fabric, probably to keep from throttling him.

"Or you'll what," he turned a smug look at her.

"Hard to say," she narrowed her eyes. "I have lots of things I'd love to do the people who took everything from the people I love – none of which are pleasant, and plenty of which would ruin the interior."

"And who are you, exactly?" he asked breezily. "How are you tied into all of this?" he motioned to the garage and the car.

"You came here," she crossed her arms. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I came here," he pulled the napkin out of his breast pocket, "because I was told if I came, I'd find what I was looking for."

"Whatever you think you came here to find, it isn't here," she bit back. "So get the hell out."

"I think it is," he leaned back in the seat and drummed fingers on folded arms. "This car has clearly been maintained. I am guessing that you also service the engine?" he raised his eyebrows in question. She offered a hard stare in return.

"I think I'm right," he said pleasantly. "And I think that once you hear why I am here, and what I came to offer, you will jump at the chance to work with me."

Her eyes went so wide and so round, he thought she might harm herself.

"Oh, I've got to hear this," she muttered, folding the cover over her arm and putting it carefully on a nearby bench. She shifted her weight to one hip and stared him down. "I'm looking forward to the pleasure of shooting you down."

"We'll see," Neji smiled, congratulating himself on having snagged her attention. "We are sponsoring a driver in the Konoha Grand Prix. I need someone to head up the engineering and mechanic team, and if I don't miss my guess, you're the person for the job."

"Is that all?" She scoffed. "Well that was fast. Sorry. No deal."

"Oh, I think you'll reconsider when you hear who we've hired to drive for us," he flicked an invisible fleck of something off of his trouser leg and onto the garage floor.

"Doubt it."

"Are you familiar with the name Rock Lee?"

She looked as if her world slipped a timing belt, sending her engine clattering into chaos.

"Lee," she breathed in astonishment. "No, he… he can't – he wouldn't – I don't believe you," she shook her head. "Besides – he is a Formula One racer now; he isn't available for general contracts and he certainly wouldn't risk his standing by entering into a race that isn't a part of his circuit."

"It is a showcase year, and we have turned the event into a charity one," Neji's smile was meant to goad her. "It took some negotiation, but the Formula One racers have been allowed to participate. And I hardly need to tell you that your friend is one of the best drivers available."

"He promised," she said, throat tight. "He promised Gai-sensei he wouldn't run this race – not anymore. Not since-"

"Since the fiasco that ended his teacher's career?" Neji arched an eyebrow. "I don't see how you can blame the race for the incompetence of its drivers."

Her face paled and then flushed angrily.

Her eyes glittered dangerously.

"Get out of here," she growled. "You know NOTHING."

"I know that Lee is having a terrible time adjusting to our car," Neji frowned. "He almost crashed twice at practice last week."

"It's his reflexes," she said automatically.

"Pity," Neji sneered. "Guess we need someone better."

"There is no one better," she spat back. "His reflexes are too damned fast," she continued. "Chances are your shitty transmission can't keep up with him; he needs something custom that you can't possibly-

"We can't replicate," he finished. "You are exactly right. No matter how hard we try," he shrugged. "We can't seem to do it. We tried to find the person who built your mentor's car, but to no avail."

"Wouldn't do you any good," she laughed bitterly. "He's impossible to find, and he wouldn't help you. Even for Lee. Besides he-" she bit off the rest of her sentence.

"He didn't design or build Lee's current car," Neji finished for her. "You did."

"What makes you think that?" she snapped.

"Oh, I don't think," the gleam in his eyes was predatory. "I know."

"How?" she demanded.

"Let's just say it's enough that I know," he spread his hands elegantly. "Just like you know that particular car can't be entered in this race, and I know that Rock Lee will race with or without your help. His chances of coming out unscathed will improve exponentially if you cooperate."

Her jaw was tight.

"Hey boss," a voice echoed from the other side of the garage. "Sorry I'm late – Family's still visiting. So what are we-."

He stopped abruptly when he spotted them.

Neji was still in the passenger seat of the car, and she looked like she might kill him.

The mechanic looked between them, and his manner abruptly shifted, his voice hard.

"What's going on, Morino?"

She never broke eye contact with Neji.

"Nothing, Kankurō," she said, steel threading her words. "Mr. Hyūga here was just leaving."

"Hyūga?" he asked, eyes darting between the two of them, his body language clearly reading 'oh, fuck.'

Neji tipped his head, studying the two of them, idly noting the animosity was rolling off of her in waves.

He slipped out of the car, thinking.

Morino.

Morino.

The name rolled in his head, and he conjured up the image of a large man – a powerful man – but he wasn't connected to the racing world.

Then he remembered.

"Morino," he said looking her over, realization dawning on him.

There had been a driver with that name. An up and coming driver that had made quite a name for himself on the amateur circuit, who died in suspicious circumstances shortly after joining the professionals.

He had been a Morino.

Morino Idate.

Neji noted the raw note in her anger, and made the last connection.

Idate was estranged from his brother, Ibiki, and had no other siblings. This woman then…

"You're Idate's widow," he said, the puzzle falling into place.

Her spine went solid iron, and Kankurō crossed to stand next to her. He was a solidly built man – burly with shaggy brown hair and dark, menacing eyes.

The electricity that buzzed between them all was volatile.

Neji closed the door of the retired vehicle with care that bordered on reverence.

"Then, you more than anyone should want to make sure that our driver stays safe," he said quietly, and he felt a twinge of guilt knowing that this was the angle that would secure his triumph.

He stepped away from the car, slowly reaching into his breast pocket. Kankurō's eyes narrowed and he immediately stepped between them.

Neji arched an eyebrow and flicked out a business card.

"It's alright, Kankurō," she said, her voice calm with banked anger. "Like I said. Mr. Hyūga was just leaving."

"I am," Neji leveled a challenging stare to Kankurō before side stepping him to hand his card to the woman.

"But I will be back," he said softly, holding it out between two fingers. "Count on it."

Her hazel eyes gave away nothing, and she held his stare for a solid twenty seconds before plucking the card from his fingers and tearing it in half.

"Is that wise?" he asked, easily as it fluttered to the ground between them.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hyūga," she returned evenly.

Neji gave another elegant shrug, and headed for the door. The licensing certificates caught his eye, specifically the ones for the mechanics behind him. Kankurō looked cocky and defiant in his picture but she…she looked happy. Playful. The picture was so incongruous with the woman behind him that it gave him pause.

He turned to look at them both.

Kankurō was just behind her, still an intimidating figure.

She stood defiantly, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, jaw unyielding.

He couldn't help but appreciate the beauty in her fury.

"Until next time, Tenten," he inclined his head.

She said nothing in return.

He could feel her eyes on him, boring into his back and skull even as he drove away.

"I will be back," he said, flicking eyes to the rearview mirror.

A slow, smug smile crossed his face.

He was looking forward to it.

Sometimes you just have to write cocky, jerk Neji (with a touch of humanity.) I might have to come back to this one. Thoughts?

Fact: One of the versions I wrote of Force Majeure had Tenten as an airforce mechanic, and the widow to pilot Morino Idate.