INITIAL D: FRONT RUNNERS
DISCLAIMER: With the exception of my OC's, I OWN NOTHING MENTIONED HERE. Yay for me.
ACT ZERO - PART 2
March 23, 1999; Yokohama Docks, 12:18 AM:
"Sate, minna-san," a man called from the front of the crowds, "We're going to start some tsuiso rounds now!"
As his voice echoed across the warehouses of the Yokohama dockyard, a cheer rose from the gathered crowd. A series of machines, engine tones rising and dropping as the drivers revved gas pedals and released clutches, formed up in opposing lines down both sides of a long alley between a pair of buildings. Each car was lined up directly opposite from another: that driver's opponent for the tsuiso, or tandem drift, rounds.
Kenji looked across the narrow street from Gotou's S14. It appeared that the increasingly dilapidated Nissan had been paired against a vibrant white Toyota Chaser. A Chaser driven by a woman, no less. Kenji shook his head, wondering what Gotou's reaction would be at losing to her. Then again, maybe it was better not to think about that…
Gotou and the Chaser were the third of the groups set to run the Yokohama Bay drift course; the first being a pair of 180SXs, followed by a good looking 70-series Supra – which Kenji noticed bore the same tuning company logo as the Chaser – against an RE Amemiya kitted FC3S RX-7.
Kenji's attention returned to the track as the 180SX duo came around the second-to-last corner on their return trip, their rear tires nearly invisible behind the wall of deep gray smoke. At the last possible moment, they both spun nearly 90 degrees, inverting the angle of their drifts and sliding around the edge of a concrete barrier.
The two cars crossed the finish line, with the neon metallic blue one that had been leading going into series of smoking donuts as the driver sat on the door, rodeo style. Kenji smiled and joined in the applause as the crowd cheered on the victorious driver. Not that anyone actually kept track of scores or anything, everyone was just here to have fun and, hopefully, win some bragging rights. Kenji preferred racing a bit more seriously, but had to admit that the relaxed atmosphere wasn't bad at all.
The 180 drivers having returned to the "paddock", the next two cars were ushered forward. Kenji was rather surprised when, upon further inspection, he realized he'd never heard of the shop the Supra bore stickers naming. He considered himself quite familiar with those shops in and around Tokyo and Yokohama, but the sight of the car's Nikko Prefecture number plates had things making sense.
Nikko, eh?
Kenji had heard, though mainly from Gotou, that there was some exciting stuff going on in the mountains in central Japan.
The RX-7 also bore plates from a more mountainous region, but Kenji knew this driver well, by reputation at least. The man, few actually knew his name, had established himself pretty well when he beat the black FD RX-7 and rather disturbingly pink Z32 Fairlady that had been dominating Yokohama's point-to-point racing for some time.
The two white cars, both very similar looking, were it not for their touring-car-esque body modifications, pulled up to the line and waited for the starter, with staccato pops-hisses from turbo wastegates cutting through the sound of the crowd.
The starter dropped both hands and the two cars launched hard, the deep roar from the Supra's inline 6-cylinder providing a bass counterpoint to the RX-7's stratospheric rotary. The better low-end torque from the Supra allowed it to pull into a leading position going into the first corner – a tight hairpin left that wound in a 180 degree turn around a stack of shipping containers.
The Supra driver feinted right, then tapped the brakes and spun the car back to the left, getting back on the gas vigorously as he did so. The RX-7's brake lights remained dark, but as it spun sideways, Kenji saw the rear wheels locked up – the driver had used the hand brake to scrub off speed and get a better angle of entry on the deceptively sharp corner.
The Supra cleared the containers by a wide margin, sliding by at very high speed with plumes of smoke pouring off the rear tires in what was effectively a moving burnout. The RX-7 trailing managed a much tighter line, coming within mere inches of the leading edge of the heavy steel containers and leaving a slight streak of paint from the front bumper across the far side of the metal box.
His shorter line, however, allowed him to exit the corner inside the Supra's line, forcing the suddenly trailing Toyota driver to tap the brakes; allowing the RX-7 time to get into its high-end powerband and pull away by a car length.
The two cars flashed past the area where the crowd, now wild with excitement from the daring overtake, stood screaming and cheering alongside the course.
Diving into the consequent sweeping right corner that snaked across a parking lot, the Supra driver simply let off the gas for a moment, then as he steered hard into the corner and began to counter, floored the accelerator again, kicking the rear out in a style not dissimilar from his approach in the first turn.
The RX-7 driver, in an effort to keep his engine in the high revs it so relished, didn't slow down much for the corner and gave the clutch a firm step as he entered the start. The 13B roared up, bouncing off the 10,000 RPM rev limiter as use of the clutch briefly removed all resistance from the transmission. This sudden shock to the powertrain snapped the rear loose and spun the car into a long drift, with occasional bursts of RPM echoing as further clutch kicks sustained the long slide.
Kenji failed to see which car managed to come out of the corner ahead as the turn took them behind a series of low office buildings and out on the service access road for the docks.
When next he caught sight of them, they were rounding the final corner for their chosen course – a long, right sweeper that carried them within yards of the dock's edge and the bay beyond.
He heard the roar of engines long before he saw the cars, but then they appeared, rear tires billowing as always, with the two cars almost perfectly side-by-side, the Supra inside near the crowd, the RX-7 outside, edging ever close to the sea.
Kenji saw a spray of pebbles be thrown into the dark water back the RX-7's wide rear tires, sending up a small series of splashes.
The two cars were both able to keep their lines and hold their drift angles across the finish line from the opposite side than that of the 180SXs had been. As both cars slowly returned to the paddocks, Kenji marveled at the skills of the two men; there was no way he could really call a winner on the round.
He returned his gaze to Gotou, who had just fired up his SR20 and was letting the engine idle for a moment to warm up; not a bad idea given just how cold it could get out here this time of year.
Across the row, the man who had driven the Supra exited the vehicle and headed down the row of cars. Kenji was rather surprised to see that the man was not Japanese…this was something he'd have to look into.
The foreigner walked over to where the driver of the Chaser was belting herself into the Bride seat and Takata harness. He pointed out to some part of the course, wove his hand through a maneuver of some sort, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and walked out to the start/finish line, circling his right hand above his head as he did so.
Gotou, already behind the wheel, edged his car up to the line, giving the woman in the Chaser an unmistakable grin that Kenji was glad he was not on the receiving end of. Kenji shook his head in disgust; Gotou had always thought he was such the ladies' man.
June 14, 1988; outskirts of the Nerima Ward, Tokyo:
"Oi, onee-chan, wait up!"
Kenji knew who the voice belonged to even though he couldn't see him. He shook his head in disgust; Gotou was always thinking he was such the ladies' man. Kenji pushed off of the underside of the transmission bell housing, sending the crawler he laid on sliding out from under his deep green Toyota Celica.
"Gotou, if you're going to do that," Kenji sailed, watching the dark blue sailor-uniformed girls walk away, "do it somewhere other than in front of my house. I don't want the police asking why I'm harassing high school girls."
Gotou rolled his eyes, but relinquished with a smile. He turned his attention from Kenji's grease-stained t-shirt and rolled-down mechanics jumpsuit to the car that sat behind him.
"What're you working on today?"
"Installing my new clutch. The old one wasn't gonna last long between the miles on it and the new carb setup I just finished."
Gotou's eyes caught a mischievous glint, "So, you finally finished with the Mikunis, eh? I expect that means you'll be back on the street with us soon, yes?"
"Us?" Kenji arched an eyebrow, "Since when is there an 'us'? You don't race, Gotou."
"Correction: I didn't race."
"So, you've finally got yourself a car, huh? What, you buy a beater Bluebird off somebody?"
Gotou rolled his eyes, "Oh, ha-ha, Kenji. As a matter of fact, no. But you did get the maker right."
"Okay, so you've got a Nissan. Stop being so coy and just show me already."
"If I drove it here, I would. But I didn't. So you'll just have to come out to Yokohama tonight to see it."
"Alright," Kenji said, shrugging, "I was planning to hit the wangan tonight anyway, make sure I got the carbs jetted right."
A Parking Lot on the Wangan Line:
Kenji pulled into a parking space at the service station, being careful not to get too close to the bright orange Z432R Fairlady in the adjacent space. He killed the engine and stepped out into the noise of the crowd filling the parking area.
His eyes trailed along the rows of parked cars, noting the different levels of competition that had come out to race that night. Up at the far end of the lot were the top tier racers – the guys who could afford to buy and modify a Porsche 911 Turbo to pass 200Kmh. Down from them were the people running the new Supra and RX-7 Turbos, as well as DR30 and R31 Skylines and a few Z31 Fairladys. And then, at the end of the line, the people like Kenji; an assortment of other Celicas, Celica XXs, older Skylines, and a pair of brand new S13 Silvias.
Suddenly, Gotou appeared from behind one of the S13s.
"Kenji! Good to see you!"
Kenji waved at his friend, "Yes, Gotou, I'm here. Now where's this car you won't let me see?"
Gotou grinned devilishly and waved Kenji around the back of the S13s and a Hakosuka Skyline.
"Well, Kenji, I'd say I did pretty well, yeah?"
Kenji had to admit, Gotou, it seemed, had actually pulled something off quite well. Before the two teens sat an 8-year-old Nissan S110 Silvia coupe. Gotou opened the driver's door and flipped the hood release.
"And check this," he said, lifting and propping the hood.
"Freshly built engine with an HKS turbo – makes something like 160 horsepower."
Kenji gave a low whistle, "Not bad, Gotou. Not bad at all."
11 Years Later, Yokohama Docks, 12:37 AM:
As soon as the cars came around the first corner, Kenji knew that Gotou was in over his head. The Chaser led by slightly more than one car length, throwing the rear of the heavy four-door within mere inches it seemed of the concrete barriers, all the while maintaining a high speed, high angle slide. Gotou, however, was not about to go down without a fight and floored it into the corner, using the burst of torque from his S14's turbo to exceed the limits of the tires' grip through raw power.
Unfortunately for Gotou, while the maneuver looked fantastic and remained high speed, it brought him in at a poor angle for the sharp right that formed the second half of the "S" curve. The Chaser feinted gracefully and spun rightside, rear tires locking as the driver used the handbrake to scrub off speed.
Gotou, whose speed had carried him a scant few meters past his apex, tapped the brake and popped the clutch, aggressively spinning the car to the right, but not quite sharply enough. Kenji winced as the scrape of FRP on concrete echoed across the dockyards. He looked up to see Gotou entering the next corner, with his rear bumper now barely still attached to the car.
When Gotou returned to the paddock something like three minutes later, it was all Kenji could do to keep from laughing. The rear bumper, still primer-gray, dragged along the ground, attached to the car by a single black zip-tie. The left side skirt had been torn free, then lashed to the trunk, with a pair of bungie cords looped around the carbon fiber spoiler to hold the piece of fiber-reinforced-polymer in place.
The true horror, however, was what had become of the Nissan's front clip. At some point, it appeared that Gotou had…"grazed" one of the many warehouses or container stacks scattered around the course. The INGS front bumper now sported a massive crack down the right side and had a large chunk taken out of the center, where the intercooler and radiator had been crushed somewhat and forced backwards into the engine bay.
Gotou pulled the car into a parking space, a few chips of plastic from the shattered left right headlight dropping onto the ground as the car lurched to a halt. Gotou left the engine running, stepped out, then walked to the front of the car and popped the hood.
He bent down over the mangled front of the engine bay, careful to avoid a jet of steam from the partially punctured radiator.
"Looks expensive," Kenji said, leaning in over his friend's shoulder. That earned Kenji a quick glare from the other driver.
Gotou turned, "Is there a mechanic in the house?" he said, speaking to no one in particular.
Toward the back of the crowd, one hand went up.
"Afuro-man?" Gotou said, raising and eyebrow at the foreigner.
The American came forward, joining Gotou and Kenji beside the S14's engine bay. After a moment, he looked back up at the two Japanese.
"You got a garage?"
Gotou shook his head, "Not really, but I've got a friend who'll let me borrow a maintenance stall at his shop."
"Lemme know if you ever want a 2JZ or something to replace that with," a new voice came from behind.
The three men turned around and found themselves talking to the owner of the white Supra from the earlier race.
Gotou barked a quick laugh, "Yeah, no thanks. I'm quite happy with my engine."
The man shrugged, "Don't say I didn't offer."
He started to leave, then turned back and quickly added, gesturing toward the white Chaser, "Oh yeah, and don't talk to or look at her like that again, wakaru?"
Kenji stifled yet another laugh as Gotou nodded and the man left. He looked over to where the dark-skinned American was now inside Gotou's S14, checking the response from the accelerator as Gotou watched over his shoulder.
Kenji shook his head; it looked like he had another follower now. At the rate this was going, he'd have a full team assembled without ever trying.
END