FOREWORD: I, HashiriyaGDB, am submitting this Initial D facfic on behalf of Midnight Dorifuta, the author of this fanfic and a fellow user on the Initial D World Forums. The only things I've done to this is correct some (if not all) the typos.

All trademarks are owned by their respective owners.

THIS CHAPTER IS A SIDE STORY AND IS NOT (AT LEAST THIS CHAPTER) RELATED TO THE MAIN STORY.

Chapter X-01 - Arrival in Japan

So this was the not-so-big country that everybody in this living world is making such a stink about, eh? Japan. Japan is... interesting, from what I can tell of this first impression of mine. The people act quite differently. They're more curteous. And boy, is it me or is everyone in these airports always in a big rush?

I grabbed my luggage from the conveyer, double checking all my bags to make sure I had my documentation, my clothes, oh, and of course, my money, and the title to that... what is it again? Well, hey, it's worth a look, just to be safe. God make sure it isn't a Kei car, I thought to myself as I glanced over the sheet again, blinking repeatedly and speaking to nobody in particular.

"Ah! This is..."

Supra. Nice. Very fucking nice. That's an automatic plus in my boo- ...christ. Oh, god, a Supra 2.0, and automatic? I've heard bad rumors about that smaller engine, though I don't know much about it, but still, let alone the fact this piece of crap probably has zero aftermarket. But hey, for ten thousand yen, can I really complain? It says rod knock here... Lord help me. Still. It's a Supra. And Supras have big, honkerin' engine bays that you could easily shove something like a, uh-

Wait. They do sell Corvettes here in Japan, right? Well, whatever, that isn't important at the moment. What is is getting a taxi and getting my ass to this car whose engine I'll have to rebuild or change the moment I acquire it. 2.0 automatic. Dear lord. 2.0 liters can not be sufficient to haul thirty-five hundred pounds of car. It just can't. Especially when you equate the extra drivetrain loss.

Oh, hey, there's a cab! I waved the driver down and he pulled to a near-screeching halt. The car I've never seen in my life before... and a quick glance around these bustling streets before I got in and spat off my destination verified that I'd have a lot of catching up to do on my Japanese Car 101. It's wonderfully ironic, though, that I get a chance to drive a GT500 Supra and a street-model Supra at once. Even if one's a third gen and one's a fourth. But hey, who gives a fk about jellybeans, anyways? The 80's is where it's at. But racing is racing, and so, racing only uses modern cars.

The streets here are pretty narrow, and this whole driving-on-the-left-side-of-the-road concept is pretty iffy if you'd ask me. I mean, come on, are most Japanese people left-hand dexterous or something? That shift knob's gotta feel wierd on the other side. Hell, driving on that side's gotta feel wierd. But that didn't matter too much; I didn't have much street racing in mind, anyways. I'm here to win a real championship.

"Ah, right here, sir!" My Japanese knowledge was very limited, but I did what I could do, and he was kind enough to filter the Japanese in through my fairly heavy Southern drawl, fortunately. As I pulled the bags from the taxi's trunk, I gazed at that sky-blue Supra that was mine, here in Japan as my first car.

Just like the description said. '87 2.0 GT Twin Turbo. And of course, my small apartment here out in the boonies. turning around, I paid my fare... a charge that I dare not speaketh of with the exception that the fair did make me cringe... and then proceeded to walk into the house, using the key that - just as the land-lord said - was tucked under the Supra's left-front tire. Actually, that's a pretty smart idea. Sure kicks the shit out of the klee-sheik (clicheic) doomat.

Opening the door, I at once was also surprised and then was relieved. Turns out I have a roommate here, and that probably explains the low rent. But hey, she's a girl, and she's got purple hair an irresistable green eyes... and a rather macho all-black get-up, including a red tie, that made me wonder if that was actually crossdressing. "Yo!", she waved, more focused on the soup than me. And that, coupled with my current energy level, made me almost fall over laughing.

The girl was ravaging on a ramen bowl, apparently knowing my face the second she saw it. Well, I've gotta give props to the owner of this place. He gave everyone the four-one-one so I can just kick back and settle down, and recover from the inevitable jet lag. I looked over the mop-topped girl again, with her fashionably short-yet-long hairdo that reminded me of some of those new punk-ish trend girls back in the States, but she seemed totally down-to-earth.

"Yo. Good evening, and all that stuff." Oh, did I mention that we were speking English? Schwang.

"Help yourself", she mumbled, mouth full - often, I've gotten scolded for bad table manners, which kind of annoyed me, so do you know how refreshing and good feeling it is to meet a woman who slurps down her soup like a pig? - while pointing to my unfilled bowl. "Juss micwowave it an incoherent." I chuckled again, before locking the door behind me. I could see already she was going to be a cool girl to hang with.

So this is what Japan is? To be perfectly honest, it doesn't sound all that bad.