I had this all edited and ready to go like two weeks ago and I just...kept on forgetting to post it lol.

Sorry for the wait, but I hope you enjoy it!

—

The drive to Tsukuba is relatively long; it happens to be their farthest race yet. Takumi spends most of the drive staring at the road unfurling before him, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in a slow, rhythmic pattern. He's sandwiched between Keisuke's FD ahead of him and the two vans behind him.

This isn't anything unusual, he normally drives in the center like this, but he can't fight the distinct feeling he's being watched. They are putting in a great effort ensuring that he doesn't hide his weakened health from them.

Which, if he honestly considers it, isn't unwarranted. He wasn't lying to them when he said he was feeling better, but that isn't the complete truth. He might be feeling better than when he was lying feverish and coughing up mucus, but he wasn't exactly in picture perfect health.

He doesn't like feeling like this, lethargic and absentminded. He's missed details during his runs down Akina and Akagi, things that he would've noticed under any other circumstances. His concentration slipping isn't something he can risk during a race. It could be the difference between a loss and a victory.

Despite him dutifully taking his antibiotics, his cough hasn't cleared. At least, not completely. He isn't coughing up mucus anymore but his cough has warped into something drier. On account of his recovery, he has no idea if it's a positive or negative development. But the pain is sharper and centered in his upper rather than lower chest. Despite not coughing up anything, these fits leave him weaker and less steady.

The painkillers help, but they only serve to worsen his concentration. He's disoriented and uncoordinated while on them. He didn't even notice until he was over his fever, attributing the lack of focus to the fever rather than the medication.

He really should've read the packet the doctors gave him. It not only would've had a list of side effects of the medication but it also would've told him the ideal recovery path. He would at least have an idea of what to expect.

But, as he's proven on multiple occasions in the past week alone, foresight isn't one of his strong suits.

At least he remembered to pack all his medication, including the painkiller. He isn't going to take it before his race and the odds of him taking it afterwards are just as unlikely. But having it as a precaution won't hurt.

He only has a few more doses of the antibiotic and about twice that much of Advil. Both should last him the two or so days they'll be gone for the race. By the time their next race rolls around, he should be over his pneumonia.

Granted, that's what he thought for today. It's clear he underestimated his recovery time. But the next race is at least two weeks out. It's unimaginable that he wouldn't be over his cough by then. Or, it should be unimaginable. It wasn't for his—

He draws in a sharp breath and pain flares down the entire right side of his body. It breaks into a short cough that he has trouble quelling. He can't go down that train of thought. There's no reason for him to. But he can't seem to stop thinking about it. His hospitalization dug up memories he thought he long since forgotten, memories he wishes that he did.

Bitter anxiety flutters in his chest, and it takes a considerable amount of effort to shove it back into the box it belongs to. He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, the material rough in his hands. It was easier when everything just fit and he could tuck it away into the corner of his mind.

Now it bleeds out of cracks he didn't even know were there and reopens wounds he thought were scarred over.

He takes another breath, slower and longer. Then he draws in a few more for good measure. His heart rate steadies into something more manageable and the anxiety jolting in his chest quells. He needs a task, something to distract him from his thoughts. It doesn't matter how mundane it is. In fact, the more mundane the better.

He starts counting cars.

It's repetitive and boring, but it's what he defaults to when he can't think of anything else to do. Counting cars is simple and it's easy to change. He would count car colors when he was younger and was still learning how to trust himself behind the wheel. Now he can count car types if he's so inclined.

He passes the rest of the trip like this, watching the cars that fall behind him and the road that unfurls out before him. By the time they pull onto Tsukuba's peak, the sun is starting to set. The roads were relatively empty while they were in the city, but crowds of people accumulated on the pass. It isn't near the volume of people on the day of their race, but it's enough for him to notice.

Their stares are heavy on his car and make his skin crawl. He isn't one for this level of attention and he was far more content with his obscure infamy as Akina's Eight-Six. But after all the races he's driven for with Project D, he's grown to tolerate it. He just filters out anything that isn't relevant to the course at hand and continues driving.

That is what they're here to see after all.

He parks next to Keisuke's FD. Across the lot sits a pair of cars, an S2000 and an R34, with their respective drivers beside them. Fumihiro and Ryousuke handle the introductions. Takumi hangs back a few feet away.

He doesn't know what to make of their opponents. Both of them are older than anyone else he's officially faced—he doesn't know what to call that race with his dad—by a large margin. A strange apprehension settles in his stomach. He's not afraid per se, he would never be afraid of a race or driver, nor is it purely reluctance. He wants to race.

However he can't deny that they both have years of experience over them. It's a gap that he isn't going to overcome easily, no matter what techniques he can try. But he can't accept his place before the race starts. That's how he'll lose.

Ryousuke turns away from their opponents, glancing back at their cars a moment before speaking. "Run the usual: five laps at 80 per cent."

Takumi nods in lieu of responding and returns to his Eight-Six. He grabs his medication from the glove box, taking Advil and the antibiotic with a sip of water. He pulls out of the lot, getting another look at the cars they'll be racing. He'll be facing the S2000.

He doesn't know what to make of the car itself. It's obviously fast and he's slightly proud of the fact that he could name the vehicle himself, but there's little else he can tell himself. Ryousuke briefly told them about each cars' capabilities, no doubt after extensively researching them himself. Whatever advice Ryousuke gives him should be more than enough when coupled with the deductions Takumi makes himself.

Which, at the moment, are limited. But he'll make due with what he learns after he runs the course a few times.

It takes him a handful of hours to run the five laps. He takes note of anything of importance and starts shifting the map he made from watching the course videos. The crowds have thinned significantly from their arrival, only a few people remaining on the sides. They aren't doing all that much, but he can catch their stares on his Eight-Six as he passes.

There isn't anything else he can do but ignore them. They aren't malicious and they differ from the ones he felt when he first started racing.

These are filled with expectation.

He's gone from a kid with a car that's half his age to a respected, or even resented, driver with Project D. It doesn't stop people from underestimating him, but he no longer sees a sharp condescending edge in his opponent's gaze.

He doesn't know what to do with that. What he should do with it.

He pulls back onto the lot at the peak, parking the Eight-Six next to the vans. He steps out of his car, shutting the door behind him. Matsumoto looks up from the computer on a small foldable table. "Takumi, good timing. There's something I need to tell you."

Takumi approaches him. He glances at the computer screen but he doesn't get a good enough look to make sense of anything that's on there. "What is it?"

"As you already have seen, there are these concrete lips on the side of the road" Matsumoto uses one hand to estimate the size of the lip. "You can hook onto them like Akina's gutters but you should be careful."

"Careful how?" Takumi asks. He's seen the lips when he was driving, and he considered using them exactly how Matsumoto described. He has an idea what could happen when he uses them, but isn't sure if that's what Matsumoto is referring to.

"Because they aren't flat, it's rougher on the suspension. There shouldn't be any problems with your suspension now, but it isn't exactly new." Matsumoto turns back to the computer. "It isn't anything you need to worry about, I thought I should let you know."

Admittedly, Takumi had only briefly considered the ramifications of the concrete lip. He spent most of his time figuring out the timing for the gutter hook rather than how his suspension would hold.

But if Matsumoto says there isn't a need to worry, then he should be fine continuing as is.

Takumi nods in lieu of responding. By now, Keisuke has returned as well. He's talking with Ryousuke. When he meets Takumi's gaze, he jerks his head in his direction.

Takumi joins them, standing a few feet away. He's not quite as awkward as he was when he first joined Project D, getting him to even speak up was an act in itself, but he still has difficulty integrating himself within the team. Especially after what had happened last week. There is no doubt that he crossed into being an inconvenience with that.

"Your times have been good so far. You should be able to get in another set of laps before morning." Ryousuke looks over to Takumi. "You've spoken to Matsumoto, I presume?"

"Yeah. He told me about the suspension," Takumi says.

Keisuke gives them both a confused look. "Suspension?"

"There's a different type of concrete lip here." For once, Takumi actually understands the mechanical aspect of his racing. A note of pride resides in his voice despite his attempts to hide it. "It can rub against the suspension differently if I hook against it." There's a decent distance from Joshima and Hoshino, but Takumi still keeps his voice low. This is one of his trump cards. He isn't going to let them know about it preemptively.

"Well said." Ryosuke continues and a small shard of pride definitely flickers to life in Takumi's chest. "It's a concern but not a large one. It's just about the timing." Ryousuke glances over to Keisuke. "And Keisuke, make sure you continue focusing on your tire management."

"Yeah, I got that far." Keisuke glances over to Joshima and Hoshino. "Hoshino's driving a heavy ass R34."

Even after racing against them, Keisuke still holds a disdain towards GT-Rs. It's lessened from what Takumi allegedly heard it was. Takumi still doesn't know exactly why Keisuke dislikes GT-Rs and he hasn't found the time to ask.

And in all honesty, it isn't really his place to.

Ryousuke smiles. It's a little fond but mostly full of a sharp, teasing edge. "I won't disagree. It is a heavy car."

Keisuke says something, but Takumi misses it with the sharp pain that threads between his ribs. It presses against his lungs and makes it hard to breathe. He schools his expression, pressing the pain that crawls down his back.

He can't afford to do this. Not here. Not now. If Ryousuke sees him having a coughing fit, he'll postpone the race, results be damned. Takumi can't have that. He needs to race.

He draws in a slow, shaky breath, trying to manage the pain. Logically, he knows that if he's still coughing, he shouldn't be driving. It's a simple concept but one he doesn't want to accept. He doesn't know what he'll do if he can't race again. If he's the reason why they have to postpone it again.

Keisuke hasn't said anything, but it's clear that he's just as antsy as Takumi is to race again. Running practice laps around Akagi isn't the same as racing. There's nothing that can compare to the exhilaration of racing on a course you barely know.

Takumi can't do that to him, forcing him to wait yet another week to race.

But he can't ignore the sharp dread pooling in his stomach. It's unusual and bitter. If he's risking a coughing fit just standing here, how is he going to fair during a race? He can't imagine it will end well. But he can't stop himself either.

All he can do now is continue.

"Takumi." Ryosuke says, surprisingly patiently. His voice is open and underlied with a misplaced concern.

Takumi's head snaps up, swallowing back the cough that rises in his throat. "Yeah?" His voice is rough and strained.

"Is everything alright?" Ryousuke asks, a slight frown pulling at his lips. Keisuke is gone, presumably continuing his runs, but Takumi didn't even notice. Takumi narrows his eyes at the question and pushes down the anger budding in his chest. Ryousuke's expression shifts into something less sharp. He sighs. "You must be tired of hearing that question but I'm not asking it because I'm doubting you. I'm just concerned."

That doesn't make it any better. Takumi knows that Ryousuke's concerned. He was concerned the moment they returned from Tsuchisaka. Takumi's sick of it. Concern is only a step shy of pity. "I'm fine. I'm just a little tired." He slips in a shard of truth to make it easier to believe. He is tired, but that isn't exactly the whole picture.

Ryousuke narrows his eyes. "If resting in your Eight-Six is more beneficial than running more laps, then do so. Additional practice isn't worth the exhaustion."

"No!" Takumi cuts himself, drawing in far too sharp of a breath. It breaks off into a weak coughing fit that tears through his chest. He leans over as an attempt to steady his breathing. "No, I can run the laps." He rasps out. His words sound weak, even to him.

Ryousuke is crouched in front of him, sharp concern in his expression. He hesitates with his hand over Takumi's arm before resting it on his shoulder. "You should rest. Even doing this much after being hospitalized last week is enough."

Takumi shakes his eyes, frustration pooling in his stomach at the pity in Ryousuke's voice. "I don't need to." His voice trembles with strain.

"I need to be able to trust that you'll take care of yourself." An undercut of a thin edge rests in Ryousuke's voice, stiffening his words. "Or I reasonably can't let you race."

Takumi grits his teeth, but he sees the logic in Ryousuke's argument. If he doesn't accept Ryousuke's offer to rest in the Eight-Six, he isn't going to be racing tonight. It's as simple as that. "Alright."

Ryousuke gives him a soft, relieved smile. "I'll make arrangements for a few rooms the day. It'll be easier to sleep with the air conditioning."

Takumi doesn't argue with Ryousuke. He just nods and drags himself upright. Ryousuke releases his shoulder and Takumi walks back over to his car. He climbs into the passenger seat and rolls down the window. The general ambiance of the mountain filters into his car and he leans back in the seat.

He considers taking the painkiller. But he doesn't know how he'll feel while on it and the last thing he wants is to tip Ryousuke off that something's wrong. Ryousuke might think that if the pain is bad enough for Takumi to take a painkiller, it's too much to ask him to race. Takumi can't afford Ryousuke even considering thinking like that.

He doesn't know how much time passes while he sits and spaces out. He can't sleep, not when he's distinctly aware of the time he's wasting. But there's no way he'll be able to slip out now. Ryousuke would stop him before he could even shift out of neutral.

Through the windshield, he watches the sun rise. About fifteen minutes later, Keisuke returns. He parks beside Takumi, giving the Eight-Six an unreadable look before walking over to Ryousuke. Takumi rolls up the window and climbs out of his car.

Ryousuke approaches the two of them. He hangs up his phone. "I've prepared a couple of rooms for today. We all should be well rested for tonight." He types something on his phone, glancing down momentarily. "I've sent both of you the address. We'll finish up here and you can go down first."

Keisuke's eyes narrow and he looks a moment away from protesting. He glances at Takumi before returning his gaze to Ryousuke, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. "Alright," he concedes.

Takumi would rather wait until everyone is ready to settle down for the night—or for the day if you wanted to be technical—before leaving, but if Keisuke has already agreed, he won't get much say. And it's not like Ryousuke will let him do anything if he stays up here.

Ryousuke gives Takumi a look, one that Takumi can read quite well. Takumi nods, conceding as well.

He ignores the edge of concern that rests in Ryousuke's gaze.

Ryousuke gives them a smile that's a little too pleased to be friendly. "Good. I'm glad that we could come to an agreement."

Keisuke rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. But he just shoves his hands into his pockets and turns around. He opens the door to his FD and Takumi does the same with his Eight-Six. To their backs, Ryousuke continues, "You can pick up the keys from the front. They'll be under my name."

Keisuke sticks his head out of the door. "Alright" He shuts the door and starts his car.

Takumi follows him out of the lot and down the mountain, keeping pace with him well enough. It doesn't take long for them to reach the motel, not much different than the one they had to stay at last week. They park and Keisuke climbs out of his FD.

Takumi reaches over to the glove box and pulls out his medication. He leaves the painkiller alone. There won't be any need for it.

He shoves the bottles into his pockets and steps out of his Eight-Six, locking the door behind him. Keisuke isn't there and his FD is empty. Presumably, he went to pick up the key to their room. Takumi leans against his Eight-Six and waits.

Keisuke returns a few minutes later with a key in hand. He gives Takumi a grin. "I got the one on the first floor." He sets off in the direction of one of the sets of rooms.

Takumi follows him. "Are you going to tell Ryousuke which room you choose?"

"I'll text him after we get situated." Keisuke slides the key into the lock, opening the door with a twist of the handle. "Although I don't think it'll be hard for him to figure it out himself."

Takumi walks into the room after Keisuke, flicking on the lights as he goes. It isn't all that different from the previous room: sparsely decorated with a single table and a set of chairs. Keisuke drops the keys onto the table and they clatter against the wood.

Takumi pulls out his keys and the pill bottles. He drops his keys with Keisuke's and lines the pills against the wall. Keisuke looks up, a futon in his hands. "You're still taking those?"

Takumi shrugs and grabs the closest one. "It's only for a few more days." He opens it, shakes out a pill and swallows it dry. He repeats the process for the next one.

Keisuke watches him. "I just thought you'd be done with them by now."

"I think they gave me a longer dose of the antibiotic." Takumi flips both bottles so they're resting on their caps. "It's something about not wanting the infection to come back. Ryousuke probably knows better than I do."

Keisuke gives him a look, like he doesn't know whether to trust him or not, and rolls out the futon. "I guess that makes sense."

Takumi grabs another futon from the closet and spreads it out near the wall. They both get ready to sleep relatively quickly. Takumi draws the blinds closed while Keisuke makes sure everything is situated with Ryousuke. He leaves the key beneath the doormat before returning inside.

Keisuke sits in one of the seats by the table, resting his head against his hand. Takumi sits on his futon, leaning against the wall. He refrains from drawing his knees to his chest. It will only serve to make him look childish.

Takumi draws in a single, long breath, letting it settle in his lungs before exhaling. A sharp pain cuts through his ribs and it takes everything he has to stop the wince show on his face. The pain has dulled after taking Advil, but not enough.

He knows all this could be solved if he just took the painkillers.

He also knows that would be the worst thing he could do for himself right now.

Keisuke is watching him with a frown from his place at the table, looking far more concerned than he ought to be.

It makes Takumi's skin crawl.

Keisuke sighs, breaking the strange silence that had settled between them. "Ryousuke told me what happened."

Instantly Takumi is on guard. "I'm fine," Takumi bites out, far harsher than he intended. He should've known that Ryousuke would've at least said something to Keisuke. If not the rest of Project D. "Nothing happened."

"Really? It didn't sound like nothing." Keiuske's voice is neutral, tentative even, as if he's testing the waters.

"It caught me off guard but I'm fine now." Takumi feels the need to reiterate that fact. Because it's true. He's fine. At this point, it is nothing more than a cold or allergies. If it were under any other circumstances, they would think nothing of it. "You weren't even there."

"I wasn't," Keisuke concedes, even if his tone sounds far from giving in. "But Ryousuke was."

"Then you should know that there isn't anything wrong." Takumi forces himself to maintain eye contact with Keisuke, swallowing back the slight tremor in his voice. "He does."

Keisuke narrows his eyes. "You're trying to say that this is a normal part of your recovery, right?" Keisuke doesn't continue until Takumi gives him a slow nod, unsure of where he's going with this. "But, isn't it usually with rest or something? Not racing?"

A lick of cold anger flickers in Takumi's chest. Keisuke isn't saying it outright, but it's clear he's doubting Takumi's ability to race. He might've had some grounding before, when Takumi was quite clearly hiding his illness, but there's no reason for him to think that now.

Takumi is fine. This is all normal. Or, at least it should be.

"I can race tonight, if that's what you're asking." Takumi sounds far more defensive than he intended.

"But, there's nothing wrong if you can't. We don't have to race tonight." Keisuke hesitates just for a moment, betraying how much the concept pains him. He hates being grounded like this, forced to walk when Takumi's the one who can't fly.

"I can't do that to you." Takumi draws in a shaky breath. "To everyone."

He's already set them back at least a week. He cannot set them back even further.

"You aren't doing anything. Just 'cause you need another week to rest isn't your fault. It's not like you asked to get sick."

"But it was my responsibility," Takumi finds himself saying before he can stop, the truth far more bitter than what he was saying before. "I should've handled it without all this."

Keisuke gives him an appalled look. Takumi doesn't understand it. "Without what?" Keisuke asks, confusion clear in his voice.

"Involving you guys."

"No." The cold seriousness in Keisuke's voice startles Takumi. It's the last thing he expected. "Don't ever feel like you can't come to us."

"It's not that." Takumi's gaze drops to the floor. He struggles to explain what he actually means. It's not that he doesn't think he can go to Keisuke, or Ryousuke, or the rest of Project D, it's just that he shouldn't have to. "It's just that—it's something….I shouldn't need to do."

"We're here to help each other. To help you." For some reason, Keisuke sounds inexplicably sad. "Don't you know that?"

"Yeah." At least, they were willing to stay with him through last week's mess. He knows that much.

"Then why are you saying shit like that?" Keisuke gestures in front of him in some form of disbelief. "You can go and do the same thing you did last week and we'll still be here. Whether or not you think it's something we should do."

Takumi draws his knees to his chest and doesn't say a word.

Keisuke gives him a hard look. "Do you trust us?"

Takumi flinches at the blunt words. "...Yes."

He knows from the moment he sees the way Keisuke's expression twists that he hesitated too long before answering. "If you do trust us…." Keisuke pauses, as if he's choosing his words carefully. "Then why won't you tell us anything?"

"I wanted to race." Takumi's voice is quiet. It barely breaks through the thrump from the AC kicking on. Something crawls into his chest. It feels distinctly like admitting that he knew exactly how bad his illness was.

And he did, to an extent.

"So?" Keisuke leans forwards, some of his hot anger bleeding into his voice. It makes him sound like a hypocrite.

"You would've done the same thing." Takumi sounds far more defeated than anything else. He leans further against the wall, wrapping his arms loosely around his legs.

Keisuke freezes and Takumi knows he's hit the bullseye. If there's nothing else in the world they both want more than anything, it's to race. "I might've," Keisuke offers when they both know how false that is. "But it doesn't matter. All I want to know is if you're better. Like actually better."

"I already told you that I'm fine."

Keisuke shakes his head. "Give me a good enough reason to believe you. Last time you said you were fine you had fucking pneumonia."

Takumi draws in a breath and exhales slowly, almost to prove that he could. But he no longer feels like arguing. It's pointless. It's not like what he says has been changing their minds. "I've been taking my antibiotics."

"And they've been helping?"

"Yes." At least, Takumi hopes so.

Keisuke is silent for a moment. He looks conflicted, a frown pulling at his lips. "...Will you say anything if you don't think you can handle this?"

Takumi looks up in confusion. He isn't sure where this came from exactly and it puts him on edge. "I'll be able to handle it."

Keisuke gives him a look of doubt, veiled just enough so Takumi can barely make out the emotion. Takumi stomach churns at the sight and he tightens his grip on his legs. Keisuke sighs and stands. "We should sleep."

Takumi lets him change the subject and nods. It's easier that way. He doesn't know how much longer he could continue defending himself against this. He's fine. He has to be.

He doesn't know what he would do if he wasn't.

—

I'll admit that a lot happened between now and the last time I posted, including a whole ass hurricane that went directly over my home town. Luckily we're all okay and the damage to our house wasn't too severe. But it was definitely an ordeal to deal with.

But, on to better news, I finally bought my own car! As much as I love my Jeep, it ultimately was my parents. She's a 2011 Mazda3 and I absolutely love her. She's far sportier than the SUVs that parents own and is a blast to drive.

I have a bit of rewriting to do for the next few chapters, so idk when they'll be out, but hopefully I'll see you guys again sometime soon!