A/N: -sneaks in a drops update-
I'll confess, I utterly forgot that I didn't post an update. Why? Well, I got a job! Aaaaand, it sucked. Spent 14 hours of my day either at work or driving to/from work, 6 days a week. It made me miserable, I wasn't getting anything out of it and I barely did anything but work and sleep and eat when I managed to get home. But as the saying goes, when a door closes, a window opens. I broke down, quit this morning, and a couple hours later, I started getting all sorts of leads for job opportunities. Funny how the world works.
Anyway~ One more chapter after this one.
Shatterglass
By Catsitta
3. THE CHANGE
"Never going to ride a chocobo again?"
Zack and Cid both stared at Cloud, mouths slightly agape. The blond jockey felt the stinging prick of tears itching at the corner of his eyes. He needed out of here. With a silent plea for forgiveness in his gaze, Cloud ran. His mako tainted blood heated as adrenaline seized shaky limbs. It wasn't long before he hopped the fence and fled past the stables. There were wide open stretches of flatland all around, only sparse trees in sight, so hiding wasn't much of an option. But he could run. And run, and run and run. He could run until his legs gave out and he was sprawled on the grass, numb and exhausted.
But when had anything gone as planned lately?
Cloud slowed just slightly to maneuver around an uneven patch of ground, and right before he sped up, something hit him. Or more accurately, someone. They both crashed down in a tangle of limbs and dirt, the blond's breath knocked right out of his lungs. Momentum made them roll; Cloud helplessly flopped around until landed on his back, a heavy weight around his waist.
He groaned.
The weight became a vice, curling and gripping around Cloud's middle.
"Let me go!" Cloud barely registered what just occurred, but he did know that the pressure pinning him was someone's arm. He struggled, light headed from the impact, fingers plucking at the limb around him.
"No."
The young jockey stilled for a second, "Sephiroth!"
Then he began to thrash anew.
"Hold still!"
"What do you want?" Cloud twisted like a wet feline until he wriggled free. Sephiroth was quick to regain a hold, jumping on him again before he could regain his footing. A short struggle later found the blond sitting on the older jockey's lap, arms pinned to his sides, back against Sephiroth's chest. He kicked futilely, face heated, eyes clenched shut. But his captor was stronger and unwilling to release his grip.
Both of them were breathing heavier and Cloud felt the other's breath against his hair. This was weird. Unbearably weird. Sephiroth did not touch people, much less pounce on them—he was infamous for his aloof persona, a heartbreaker that none could lay a hand upon. As for Cloud, he did not sit in people's laps. Girls sat on boys laps; guys didn't do the same. What made this worse was the fact that he was sitting on mister untouchable's lap specifically. It was wrong.
Yet he did shout for him to let go, or to let him up.
He just sat there, red faced and fuming, caught between fury and humiliation at his predicament.
"Feeling more rational, Strife?"
Cloud snorted, "Says the man who kicked a toolbox and tackled me for no apparent reason. How much mako did they pump you with anyway? I couldn't have done that."
"You are avoiding the issue. I did not do either of those things without rationality."
"Nope. Still don't see why you would, er, do this. I just made your life easier, Crescent." Cloud dropped his chin to his chest and released a sigh, all fight abandoned. "By quitting, you have one less contender for those title races. You can go back to being unrivaled for Jockey of the Year."
Sephiroth stood, dragging Cloud up with him. The blond squawked in protest, struggles renewed, but his rival held tight. Next thing he knew, he was slung over a shoulder like a sack of dried greens.
"You are my only opponent of worth," Sephiroth said.
Cloud's face heated another degree, "Idiot. You have plenty of rivals. Even Kisaragi almost kicked your ass a couple times this year. Bet she'd take up your stupid wagers if you challenged her."
She was competitive enough. Zack complained plenty about Yuffie's one-sided rivalry with him, in which she verbally berated him whenever she lost a race to Zack and in turn, lost the Gil she wagered on her chocobo winning.
Silence met his argument.
If he knew nothing else about his rival, it was how he was a man of action as opposed to words. When he spoke, it was generally to provoke, but when he wanted to make a point, he took action. Probably because deep down he was an antisocial asshat with an ego the size of Mt. Nibel. Being nice was beneath him...usually. That visit in the hospital was surreal, with him quietly checking in on Cloud, curt but almost restrained with concern. And the only one with the moxie to tell the blond what happened.
Cloud's thrashing stilled as the gears in his head turned.
He released a low sigh, "Why? Why are you doing any of this?"
"You ran off like a child, I am merely returning you," Sephiroth said.
Cloud kneed his rival in the chest, earning a satisfactory grunt, "That's not what I meant, you dense oaf. Why are you here with Zack? Why did you have ShinRa care for Fenris? Why did you visit me in the hospital? Last I checked, we aren't friends. We only talk when you're harassing me or issuing your stupid challenges. So what gives?"
They stopped moving. A light breeze plucked at long silver hair, twisting it like it would a web of spider's silk.
"...honor."
"Excuse me?"
"Honor. You won the race, suffering injury doing so, knowing that I would reap the reward should you fail. Then you do not take from me as I would have you. I dislike my honor placed in such a predicament."
"Uh huh. If I remember correctly, your little wager had me quitting racing forever. What changed between then and now?"
"Nothing."
Cloud was tempted to yank those long locks in frustration, "What?!"
Sephiroth made an indignant sound.
"Is this your ass backwards way of saying you were expecting me to win from the beginning? Wait. That meant you were making that idiotic wager believing you would lose your sponsorship. Crescent, that's...that's utterly insane."
"As is your ridiculous insistence of quitting."
His rival adjusted Cloud on his shoulder and strode right up the hill, returning them to the stables, where a baffled Zack Fair and Cid Highwind stood with a wide-eyed Fenris in tow. The rough trainer was trying to light a smoke, but the cigarette fell from fumbling fingers as he watched the pair approach. As for Zack, the dark-haired jockey recovered quicker and replaced his shock with a lopsided grin.
Sephiroth dumped Cloud nonchalantly onto the ground at Fenris' clawed feet.
"Fair, we cannot dither here all day," he said, adjusting the wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. "The purpose of this visit has been met. It is time to leave."
"We can't leave, Seph, Spiky-boy here just said he was quitting racing!"
"I am well aware."
"Seph..."
"Desist your whining. As your senior, you follow my command. Now come along, Fair."
Zack cast a worried glance at Cloud, who was rising to his feet and brushing dirt off his clothes. He was still processing these past couple minutes. As Sephiroth led Zack away, the blond offered a shaky smile.
.x.
A fortnight later found Cloud sitting on the hill, watching the dawn rise over the horizon. Like most nights since the accident, he struggled to sleep. When he did slip into slumber, he did not dream. Yet he woke with a pounding heart and a audible gasp, every nerve alive and ready to act, eyes darting around the shadowed corners of his bedroom. It was hard to compare the sensation to anything else other than paranoid fear, the kind that left him restless and anxious, any sudden movement or loud sound making him flinch.
It was hard on his body.
The lack of sleep and constant roil of stress in his belly was like an inescapable bout of mako sickness. It was hard to find the urge to eat and more than once, he spent an hour in the bathroom at some odd hour of the morning, curled around the toilet, willing the bile in his belly to settle.
But the night air helped.
Sitting out beneath the stars, the chill of early winter seeping into tight lungs, soothing overheated skin—it was calming. He almost wished the morning would never rise again, so that he could remain on the dewy grass, counting stars and tracing constellations.
Cloud drew in a ragged breath and stood.
With dawn came duties.
After declaring he would no longer race, Cloud tried to leave Costa del Sol. Barret and Cid stopped him, for some baffling reason, and insisted that he remain at the stables until he found new work and accommodations. Only there was a problem. Barret's motorcycle was broken and needed a new part that would not arrive until the end of the month, at best; which meant if Cloud was to go to town to find work, he would either need to walk or ride a chocobo.
Given how dangerous the wilds were between the stables and the city, walking alone and unarmed was a stupid idea. His mako enhancements made him very tolerant of injury, but getting chased around by aggressive razor weeds or by some species of predatory carnivore, was not exactly the best way to commute to work. After the last attempt ended with Cloud's clothes getting ruined and him breaking the baseball bat he borrowed, the blond realized that transportation was needed if he was to actually find work.
Which meant riding a chocobo.
He struggled to go into the stables and care for Fenris—the very idea of hopping onto his back made him recoil. Even if it was just to make a slow walk around the fields...he couldn't muster the mindset to do it. Raking a hand through messy locks, Cloud turned his back to the rising sun and returned to the house.
Another night passed.
.x.
Later that day, Barret cornered him.
Apparently some people were coming to the stables. Important people. The gruff man did not go into detail, but ushered the blond to go help Cid clean up. Cloud rolled his eyes as he sought out the trainer. Why hadn't Barret mentioned those big wigs visiting earlier than the day they were to arrive? Not wanting to disappoint his employer any further than he already had, he threw himself into the chores he was given.
Alongside Cid, he tided up the stalls and groomed the chocobos.
The fresh coat of paint and the scent of new wood reminded him of the improvements made lately. With Cloud's earnings from the championship race, the stables were soon to be expanded, the current building brought to a glowing liveliness with repairs. He heard talk of the fence getting replaced. That would be good, some of the posts were starting to rot.
"Spike, I think they're here," Cid said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. They had been working for nearly four hours on making everything look perfect.
Cloud turned to face where the trainer looked, and saw a pair of silhouettes meandering down the side of the hill. One of them appeared to be the bulky stable owner, but the other was whip thin. A stranger. He grimaced. All that work left him grimy and sweaty. Hopefully Barret didn't expect them to make stellar first impressions with their appearances. Tidying his unruly hair as best as he could with his hands, Cloud approached the newcomer, Cid strolling behind him.
When he could see them clearly, Cloud nearly choked.
"Somethin' the matter?" Cid asked.
"Do you know who that is?" The blond's eyes were as big as the Gold Saucer.
Walking down that hill, with Barret at his side, was the one person in their industry more famous than Sephiroth himself. Former champion jockey, Vincent Valentine. Known as a prodigy from the previous generation, he held an unprecedented and unbroken record winning streak of 10 years. By the time he was Cloud's age, Valentine was said to only ride in championship circuits. And the last five years of his career, he rode chocobos he bred himself and raised a line of champions, starting with his first record making bird, a black stud named Death Penalty.
After he retired from the industry, Valentine became reclusive.
A hidden legend.
Feet rooted to the ground, Cloud stared as Valentine moved gracefully towards them. Black hair kept short during his racing years, hung low between his shoulders, ebon strands plucked up by errant breezes. Ruby eyes glittered like drops of blood on a pale, aristocratic face. His features were faintly Wutainese, with a soft, rounded jaw and thin brows. He wore a crisp black suit with shiny shoes and a crimson tie. Yet despite all of the polish, he still had a vibrant wildness in his gaze and stride that bespoke of those youthful years.
The blond held his breath.
"Well lookie here! Good to see yah, Vinnie." Cid's voice made him wince. Why was he grinning and acting like this man was his best friend? Vinnie. Did they know each other? "I didn't expect you to be the hotshot we were cleaning up for."
Valentine stood before them at a polite distance, hands behind his back. He graced the trainer with a faint smile, but said nothing in return. Cid did not appear to mind. He walked right up and looped an around around his shoulders. Valentine didn't shake him off.
Barret grunt and smacked Cid on the back of the head, "Oi, he's here on business. Be polite, you idiot."
"I am being polite!"
"It is quite alright, Mr. Wallace. The Captain and I have known each other a long time."
Cid grinned, "That's right. Hey, as much as it's grand to see you again, what the hell are you doing here? Last I heard from you, you were frettin' over that lady of yours. How is Lucy?"
Valentine shifted at the mention of 'Lucy', "Lucrecia is well..."
At the silence that followed, Cloud found himself distinctly uncomfortable. He was witnessing what should be a private conversation. Clearing his throat, the blond gave a small smile and held out a hand toward the older man, "Hello sir, it's an honor to meet you. I'm-"
"-Cloud Strife. The young jockey rumors say may surpass Sephiroth as most talented of his generation. Given how young he began, and how short you've raced, it's rather impressive."
Cloud swallowed.
This legend of a man knew his name.
At least he was keeping his cool far better than when he first met Sephiroth. That was embarrassing to look back on. It was his rookie year, the season drawing to an end. He'd made such an impression on Barret that he decided that Cloud would ride their best chocobo at the Midgar Trophy Stakes. There, he saw him. Long silver hair and mako eyes gleaming in the greenish glow of the upper Plate. He had the reigns of his most recent champion mount, Masamune, in hand. Cloud wandered close to him, almost afraid to breathe the air around the man. He led Barret's chocobo towards him, wanting to confess how he inspired him to race and how he watched him on television for years. He wanted to shake his hand...
Then, less than five feet from him, Cloud tripped.
One foot hooked around the heel of the other and he face-planted like a clumsy idiot.
Sephiroth's shadow fell over him.
He smirked.
"How pathetic. Groveling at the feet of your betters before you even lose?"
Those words brought tears to his eyes. The perfect illusion, that impassive star, he looked down upon Cloud as if he were dirt. He turned into a stuttering, humiliated wreck. And he might have quit racing after that race too...but by some miracle, he won.
As he pulled across the finish line, his gaze tore to the side, a flabbergasted Sephiroth staring at him as he desperately tried to comprehend the scant inches between him and victory. After that came no apology, just challenges. Many vicious. Thus why it came as such of a surprise for him to show up at the hospital or bring Fenris to Midgar to heal. Or why he protested Cloud's desire to quit when it was the purpose of his idiotic challenge to make him stop racing!
Cloud blinked back into the moment, reality returning a haze.
Valentine gripped his proffered hand and a shot of cold surged up Cloud's arm. He glanced down, a creeping self-consciousness chilling him. Gleaming in the light was the golden shell of his prosthetic arm. Unlike Barret's, this one did not stop at the elbow, but continued all the way to the shoulder. He could not see it through the suit, but Cloud knew it like any fan of the sport did. The reason why Valentine's winning streak ended, and why the Continental league now required all resident racers to have mako enhancements.
"Is something amiss?" Valentine asked as he drew away. There was knowing in his eyes.
Cloud flexed his palms as he allowed his arms to fall to his side, "N-no."
His breaths shortened as he recalled reading those news articles; watching recordings of the event. It was plastered all over the day it happened. A headline story. Cloud was only ten when he came across the details behind Valentine's accident that ended his career.
It was on the infamous Space Bridge at the recently built Golden Saucer.
His mount at the time, Chaos, held an impressive lead. It was the chocobo's last race before being put to pasture as a full-time stud, his days spent lazing away in fields and siring offspring. They were on route to make this last race a spectacular one.
Then it happened.
Chaos suddenly lost traction, a non-enhanced Valentine was unable to correct their fall. He tried to lessen the impact but found his left leg tangled in the stirrups, caught by the unexpected shift in balance. Unable to free himself, Valentine fell to the ground with Chaos on top of him. No one is quite sure how, but he ended up landing on his arm in such a way that all the bones shattered. His shoulder broke through the glass of the bridge and the chocobo's weight cracked it even further. The momentum of the fall also caused them to slide.
It was a gory sight.
The jagged glass tore open Valentine's thin clothes and Chaos' feathered side. Blood coated the bridge. It wasn't the first incident to occur at the Golden Saucer, but it was the worst yet.
It was said the sound of the pair hitting the bridge sounded like a whip-crack snapping through brittle silence.
Valentine was rushed to the hospital where he was comatose for three days. The next few months were kept very hush-hush, but when he was next spotted in the public light, he was missing his arm and confined to a wheelchair. It was almost a year after that before he was seen at a race again, sporting a golden arm and the announcement that it would be his final time. A goodbye to his trade.
Everyone expected him to leave in a bang and take first place with him.
But to their shock and dismay, the wounded champion came in at a middling fourth.
Cloud looked down at the ground.
A man who was mutilated by an accident still got up and rode again. Yet here he was too terrified to sit on Fenris' back. Sephiroth was right. He was pathetic.
"Care to share your thoughts?"
Valentine's calm voice brought him out of his malaise.
"Er, n-no. I'm fine. Welcome. And I hope you enjoy your time here," Cloud turned. "Excuse me."
"Curious. I can see why Sephiroth is so worried about you."
Cloud's retreat stilled and he glanced over his shoulder, "What?"
The retired jockey tucked a long lock behind his ear, "Sephiroth. He is worried. Understandably."
"How do you know Crescent?"
Valentine blinked, "I am surprised he never told you. I was under the impression the pair of you were rather close." Close? Him and Sephiroth? The guy was a jerk with the social skills of a rotten tree stump. Valentine hummed an interested note. "He is my son."
Son. Sephiroth was Vincent Valentine's son. A jumble of numbers and dates clicked into place. That would mean that his rival was born shortly after Valentine's retirement race. Always the private man even during his prime, nothing was said about him being married or having a family. But wait...Sephiroth's last name was Crescent. Did that mean...?
Cloud blinked owlishly.
He knew very well people did not have to be married to have kids. He was born to a single mother. But by the sound of it Valentine was involved in Sephiroth's life.
"Speaking of my son, he is waiting for us in the house. Along with a few other individuals."
"He's here?" Cloud tore his gaze away, heart skipping. Last time lord asshat was here, he kicked his toolbox and tackled him. He did his best to ignore the way his face heated, blaming it on Valentine's expectant stare. "I...I should go finish some chores."
A giant weight landed on the blond's shoulder, "Valentine came all of the way out here for you, kid. So shape up." Paralyzed by the announcement, he didn't fight it when Barret shoved him up the hill. Cid chuckled but did not follow.
"Catch up with you later, Vinnie!" he said before meandering into the stables.
Valentine gave a small nod before turning to follow Cloud and Barret to the house.
.x.
Cloud was uncertain who all would be at the house.
Valentine and Sephiroth were both sponsored by ShinRa for their races. Did that mean on of the ShinRa men were here? That would be miserable. Wanting to drag his feet and delay a disaster, Cloud sluggishly walked up the front porch steps and opened the door. He heard voices as he stepped inside. Familiar ones. Frowning, he wandered toward the voices, ending up in the entryway to the kitchen.
He wasn't sure whether to cringe or smile.
At the table, chattering together, were four familiar faces. Tifa sat with her back to him, long black hair loose, a cup of coffee held loosely in her hand. Opposite of her sat Zack, energetically gesticulating as he told some wild story. Standing to Zack's left, back against the counter, eyes closed, arms crossed, was Sephiroth, looking none too impressed. And at Zack's right was...Dr. Gainsborough? Free of her scrubs and white coat, the young doctor looked even younger than before, her hair braided, a bright pink bow knotted at the base. She was smiling dreamily at Zack, a glittering band on her left finger.
Cloud blinked. A while ago Zack mentioned that he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend. Was that girl her? Vague memories of the older jockey gushing about how he met the prettiest girl when he was sixteen—how she was the daughter of a prominent ShinRa scientist who loved gardening. He did say something about her being away a lot of the time...Medical school and work?
Small world.
But despite that small world, he could not understand why they were all in Barret's kitchen.
"Look who showed up at last."
Everyone went silent when Sephiroth spoke, all eyes snapping to Cloud. That disdainful mako gaze fixed itself on his face before shifting to above his shoulder.
It was Tifa who broke the lull.
"Cloud! It's good to see you again," she said, rising from her chair and throwing her arms around his neck. He blinked and patted her back. Zack grinned and stood as well, Aerith quick to join him. The arm he threw casually around her shoulders confirmed his suspicions. She was that girl he gushed about during his visits.
"Um, as much as its nice to see all of you, er, why are you guys here?"
Tifa pulled away and grabbed his hands, "To help."
"What?"
Cloud looked around. He could understand Tifa and even Zack, but why were the others here to help him? Aerith barely knew him, Valentine was a stranger and Sephiroth was his rival. The brunette stepped back, guiding Cloud to the others. She glanced at the people surrounding them. Even at Barret who loomed in the doorway, Valentine lurking nearby, his posture similar to his son's.
"Racing is your life. Your dream." Her eyes and voice were soft. "I remember the little neighbor boy who talked endlessly about going to Midgar someday and racing for ShinRa, because that meant he would be one of the best. He loved chocobos. He feared nothing. He inspired me." Tifa ducked her head, trying to hide the pink on her cheeks. "He grew up into my dearest friend. A good, brave man. And I don't...we don't...want that man to give up on his dream."
Zack nodded, looking more serious than normal. Dr. Gainsborough smiled reassuringly. And Sephiroth...he did not wear a smug expression. In its place was a determined one. As if Cloud were a puzzle he was going to solve, no questions asked.
"You...you're all here to help me?" Cloud was surprised by the way his voice cracked. A leap of panic swelled in his belly. "I don't need help. I'm fine. I don't want to race anymore! So I'm sorry, but you're wasting your time."
Tifa's face fell. Zack and Aerith both seemed to wilt slightly at his declaration.
Sephiroth, however, sneered.
"You never struck me as a coward, Strife."
Cloud turned on him, the fluttering fear making him twitchy. He wanted out. He wanted to run. But he was cornered. Trapped. His only other option was to stand his ground and fight.
"It's not like you know me, Crescent. All you've done is toy with me since we met." Cloud's lip curled as he spat his frustration, "Does it give your oversized ego a boost to help poor pathetic little me?"
His rival pushed from the counter and loomed over Cloud, thunderous and dark, like a violent storm on the brink of unleashing a blinding torrent upon the victims below. His presence swallowed up all in proximity, rendering the air thick with suffocating static.
"Watch where you tread."
"Why should I? Last I checked I can say whatever I damn well please. Just because you're a big shot, doesn't mean you can boss me around. I don't work for you or for ShinRa!"
"This explains quite a bit."
Both Sephiroth and Cloud looked over upon hearing Valentine's amused drawl. The smirk he wore was one hundred percent the one his son lorded with whenever he had some twisted scheme brewing to make the blond miserable. The bickering pair silenced and drew back, retreating subconsciously from the older man. Despite being twice their age and slimmer than Sephiroth, he commanded a room with ease, his voice cutting while being little more than a polite hush.
Crimson scanned the brief distance between the rivals before settling on Cloud for a dreadfully extended second. Then he quirked his head in a disarming manner as he looked at Sephiroth.
"You are your mother's son," Valentine said, strolling to stand by the table. Everyone watched him. The silver-haired jockey crossed his arms, averting his gaze, earning further amusement from his father. "All of this trouble and you never said a word to him."
Upon receiving a lethal glare from his son, Valentine swept a hand toward Aerith, Zack and Tifa, "Take a moment, Strife, and tell me what you see."
Cloud frowned, a little off-kilter from his spat with Sephiroth, "I see my childhood friend, and a senior jockey with his doctor girlfriend."
"Is that all?"
"Yeah..."
The creak of metallic joints flexing and realigning rippled through still air. Valentine's prosthetic hand settled on his shoulder, "Try considering the fact that everyone in this room is here at the behest of one person."
A name escaped before Cloud could stifle it, "Sephiroth."
Valentine dropped his hand.
Blue eyes took in the earnest smiles cast at him. They were all here because Sephiroth requested them. But why? Why would he do such a thing? Because he wanted his rival back? He was a conflicting, confusing man whose motivation was as clear as the polluted waters of Junon Harbor.
But as he met those steady gazes, something twisted. Shifted. An aching yearning for something familiar. Something that bickered with the fear that boiled in his belly and offered a shimmering candle flame worth of hope.
Zack was the first to break the stifling tension, kicking back his chair and slamming both hands on the table, "We're gonna help you prep for the Midgar Gold Trophy Cup!"
"WHAT!" Cloud jumped back, nearly knocking Valentine over in his retreat.
Tifa stood next, fists up in determination, "Yeah!"
Aerith rose gracefully and laid a hand on Zack's arm, "After all that work patching you up, I'd like to see you back on a chocobo." She giggled.
"You guys..."
"If you are to ever win ShinRa's favor, then you will need to shape up, Strife." The blond bit his lip. Sephiroth stared at him with surprising determination. The older jockey huffed and inclined his chin with aloof arrogance. "Your presence at the races is...refreshing."
Valentine snorted, "Is that what you're calling it? Refreshing?"
Sephiroth's cheeks pinked.
Apparently even he wasn't immune to familial teasing,
However, that begged the question. Why did Sephiroth invite his father to speak with Cloud? He was even more out of place here than Aerith.
"So, what's it gonna be, Spike?"
Barret's deep baritone boomed through the cramped kitchen.
For the first time in months, Cloud felt light. As if he were seeing the world in perfect clarity after a lifetime of fog and rain.
"I...I'll race at Midgar Gold Troth Cup."
As he said those words, he watched his rival. He watched as that angelic facade cracked, offering a raw glimpse of humanity. Green eyes were wide and full of life. Soft lips parted slightly. He looked more radiant in that instant than ever before.
He looked beautiful.
As the moment passed, Cloud realized two things.
That he just agreed to participate in a prestigious race in less than a month.
And he found his egomaniac of a rival...beautiful.
-tbc-
A/N: (Thanks for reading! Comments and reviews are love~)