Author's note: Didn't think I'd make it but phew! Couldn't just leave a cliffhanger like that, eh? Anyhow, there'll probably a dry spell of chapters for the next few weeks so… enjoy this one, wontcha?

Song of the Chappie: Rocket Ride – Felix Da Housecat

Chapter 11

Imiga's eyebrows rose when Ming mentioned her name. He ignored the wannabe yakuza's surprise and kept his eyes fixed on the girl beside him: Yuri. And not only was she letting him keep a possessive arm around her waist, but she was about to race for him. On normal circumstances, he would have just shrugged and went with the flow.

But this was Yuri – the Yuri, and why did she have to look so damn good?

He could see that she was even more nervous than him – and there was a hint of guilt and plea on her face. But he wouldn't buy any of it now. Maybe later, but now his blood was rushing in his veins, drowning out all reason and tolerance. But still he found the ability to keep a calm and nonchalant look on his face.

Imiga laughed, breaking the tense spell between Ming and Yuri. "Why the long faces, my friends? Let's get the show on the road."

"We're still on pink slips?" asked Ming, never taking his eyes off her. At the sound of 'pink slips', all signs of emotions were wiped off from Yuri's paling face, replaced by a cool and steely look, one that spoke of nothing but pure determination. He knew at once that she would never forgive him if he managed to beat her and win her Supra. And he found himself eager to step up to the challenge.

"Yep," said Imiga, and, as if to arouse his anger, he drew Yuri closer to him and planted a kiss on her cheek. "Go beat him up, tigress."

Ming turned around to get to his Eclipse. He didn't think he could stand to see anymore of that crap. To hell if she had wanted for it to happen or not – he had a race to win.

Yuri steered her Supra to the starting line, her heart thudding against her rib cage with anxiety and apprehension. She had never seen that kind of look on his face before – a look that spelt of no forgiveness and no turning back. How she wished she could bring him to a quiet corner and explain everything to him, but he whisked himself away from the scene too quickly for her to catch him. He wouldn't let her get away so easily, not now that he had seen her and that jerk together.

And he was the D.K. of Shibuya, of all things! A D.K. He had never told that to her – he had let her believe that he was just an ordinary street guy who did tune-ups for cars in his rundown garage. As she had come to learn from Morimoto, D.K.s always, always had some kind of connection to the yakuza, some kind of dirty business tricks up their sleeves, and always, always, had girls in their arms every time they showed up at their scene.

So how many girls had he bedded, how many girls had he tricked and swindled: showering them with affection one night and the other treat them as nobodies? Hot tears attacked the corners of her eyes. She could have been one of them, one of those doe-eyed cheap girls.

She hated the realization, and the hatred delivered her a kind of energy that she had never found before as she put her foot down onto the pedal and accelerated hard, her tires squealing and burning smoke and propelling the car into the intangible and exhilarating zone where only speed, instant reflexes, and barely-there common sense existed.

Ming's Eclipse was much, much faster than she had expected, it being an Eclipse an all, but Yuri shrugged it off with a harsh laugh. She would defend her Supra at all costs.

Both cars were almost neck to neck on the long straight as the spectators cheered and screamed their hearts out for their respective drivers. Then the hairpin loomed and Yuri jerked the E-brake, kicked the clutch and yanked her steering wheel, never lifting her foot of the throttle. She felt her car making the drift, a surefire clean one, and upon the verge of sliding she quickly counter-steered. Her Supra was in the inside line, while his Eclipse took the outside. She glanced quickly at the side mirrors and saw, with bated breath, as he drifted just as smoothly and confidently as her.

Damn it, she was so not going to lose to him!

Both cars pulled out of the corner at the same speed, neck to neck again, and the spectators couldn't decide who was leading, the Supra or the Eclipse. Both drivers were equally matched, and never before had they seen such furious racing. The second corner came up fast, a looser one, and Yuri attempted something that had always worked for her loose corners. She braked as late as she could, using the normal brakes, and then put her car into a drift as she attacked the corner. The Eclipse turned in just a split second later. Yuri's Supra, as if rebelling, slid even looser than she had expected, forcing her to concede to the outer line, and the Eclipse snatched the inside line at once, like a lion pouncing on its prey.

Sean stood among the spectators at that fateful corner. No, he didn't believe it, that Jap step-sister of his was actually racing. Again. She couldn't be that popular. The Eclipse attacked the corner with a kind of familiarity that struck him at once. He had seen that kind of drift, he knew he had. No two racers drifted similarly, but Sean could certainly identify with the one he had just seen. Where had he seen it? Where?

"Looks familiar, ain't it?" popped Twink's voice all of a sudden.

"I can't put my finger on it," said Sean.

"Well I can," said Twink, shrugging as Sean looked at him curiously. "It's Han's. Han drifts that way – look at how neat it is – the nose and the butt is an almost perfect 90 degrees, if I might say, with the racin' line. An' you know you don't see it that often, but I've seen it a hundred times with Han, when he was teachin' us how to drift an' all."

"But it can't be," said Sean. Right at that moment, he couldn't form sturdy arguments, his mind was still fixed on the overtaking. Perhaps that tough-as-nails girl couldn't take an experienced opponent, despite the apparent skill she showed.

"This fella," said Twink again, "had got to have had some kinda trainin' with Han. One way or anotha, ya know? Maybe he was a really faithful disciple, or – or, maybe – "

"The way you're puttin' it, Twink," said Sean with a grin. "You're gonna suggest that they're related next."

"Hey, you never know, aight? Hey," Twink held up a chunk of cash. "Wanna bet who wins?"

Sean took one look at the thick pile and Twink's grinning, hopeful face, and reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Aw what the hell. This here's for the guy – I got a feelin' he'll be beatin' that Jap girl tonight."

Twink gave him a pained look. "Come on, Sean. I know you can do better than that."

"Can't do, Chief. Anymore and I'll burn in hell."

"Heck Sean, we'll all burn in hell. But before I do, I wanna smell banknotes till I get sick of 'em."

"Wait a minute, have you seen Neela?"

Twink shook his head. "No Sir. Finally separated from the hip?"

Sean gave him a sarcastic grin. "Very funny, Little Star."

"No I ain't seen her since I left da two of you earlier tonight. Don't worry Sean. She'll turn up. They always do. Sooner or later."

"Man, you're talkin' as if she's some kinda cow or somethin'."

"Livestock's the word, my brotha. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some collectin' to make before the race ends."

"Just get outta here," said Sean with a playful grin.

Yuri bit her lip in pure, concentrated frustration. She had tried to make a pass by him many times during the corners, but he was too good for her. But not too good, fortunately, for she was constantly just millimetres away from his rear bumper. Once or twice her nose and his rear brushed each other and sparks flew from the furious trading of paint but neither of them barely noticed.

Ming wasn't having such a ball of a time either. He thought that he could lose her, wrench his car from the fierce fangs of her Supra, even if for only a few inches. But no, she kept showing up on his radar, dangerously close to him, and he found this race one of the most exhilarating he had ever done, and such an instance was rare. In his 7-year career as the D.K. of Shibuya, he had never found himself so closely hounded by another racer, but perhaps he had seriously misjudged her.

The final hairpin came their way, the one before the all-or-nothing drift to attack the ramp to the rooftop. Yuri braked and drifted her car so aggressively that her fingernails dug into the vinyl of her steering wheel and bent under her force. Then she quickly counter-steered as soon as she had achieved her desired drift angle and balanced the throttle feed to maintain her drift. The Eclipse followed a split second later, and, her heart jumping, found that he had run too wide. She quickly moved in for the kill and duly overtook him.

She had the advantage now to take the ramp, and, heart leaping, she accelerated hard across the long straight as she weaved to left and right, finding the racing line, then pulled her car into a drift.

To her judgment, her angle had been just right. Everything seemed decided, everything seemed correct, logical. But out of nowhere, he came.

Ming had somehow found a tighter angle than hers, enabling him to sneak right past her, even in mid-drift, and reclaim the lead. She watched in mixed horror and despair as he drifted ahead of her up the ramp while she followed close behind with a sort of tiny hope that he would please, please, let up, but it didn't happen.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

He had won. Yes, he had won. But why wasn't he feeling nothing else but guilt? Ming got out of the car as the eager and hyped-up spectators crowded in on his Eclipse, clapping and cheering, some recognising him as the D.K. of Shibuya and paid him all due respect. He attempted a half-smile, but his eyes later strayed over to the defeated Supra of Yuri's. He wondered what she would do.

The door of her Supra opened faster than he had expected, and out came Yuri. She looked a bit tired, but other than that, she still appeared to be steady and sure of herself. But he noticed that her face was as pale as death, and he bet that her hands were actually shaking, shaking with grief to part with the one thing that she had loved and cared for her whole life.

And all he wanted to do now was to go to her and hold her and tell her that he was sorry and please keep her Supra. He didn't want it. He didn't want any part, not even cash. All he wanted and needed, right there and then, was for her smile, her joy for him to share in, heck, even her affection, not ashen submission. He now realised that no matter how painful it was to see her with another man, and the fact that she had allowed him to kiss her, that he couldn't' possibly stay angry at her, that he couldn't hate her, and even in his victory, he felt as if he was the defeated one.

Imiga appeared at her side as she made her way towards him. He gave her a long, hard look; the kind of look that Ming didn't see fit to give to any woman, no matter if she was a whore; and then snatched the keys out of her hands. Yuri drew a sharp breath and turned away, walking off towards the elevator, but Imiga went straight to him.

"Nice race," he said with a smile, but Ming could tell that it was dripping with resentment and embarrassment. He handed the keys to the Supra to him. "Here: it's yours. You deserve it."

The crowd surrounding them burst into approving applause and cheers and whistles, but Ming didn't appreciate it one bit. "Keep it," he said, pushing the keys back to him. "I was just racing for fun."

Imiga laughed, but it was a harsh one. "Ha-ha. Yeah, we all know that. Come on, don't shame me will ya? Not in front of everyone. Heck, it's not even mine."

"Why don't you ask the owner first?" he replied back. Soft laughter bubbled among the crowd.

Imiga's face turned slightly scarlet but he forced the smile to stay on his face. "Aww come on. Just take it. She lost. The end. Just take it and, I dunno, sell it and earn money. Come on. I ain't got all day."

"So that you can catch up with her and beat her up for her failure?" Those words were out of Ming's mouth before he could stop them. Anger rose up in him when he realised that Imiga was fully capable, and fully intending as well, to punish Yuri for losing to him. And he couldn't stand it. Gasps ignited among those watching but he ignored them.

A short laugh escaped Imiga's lips. "What do you think she is to me, a slave? I'll teach her a lesson, of course, but not the way you picture it to be, oh no – it'll be a lesson full of gentleness and… love." The last word he drawled with deliberate sweetness, causing the rest of his gang to snicker and snort.

Ming clenched his fists, but he refrained from hitting his stupid, smug face. "Fine. But if I ever find out – "

"You won't. Bye bye, gotta go. Catch you around?" said Imiga abruptly, tilting his head slightly and then turning around and walked back to the elevator, escorted by his gang. The crowd dispersed amid mutters and excited whispers as Ming watched him. Yuri was waiting for him by the elevator, wearing a mask of stricken calm. Imiga grabbed her by her arm roughly and pushed her into the open elevator. Ming drew a sharp breath but before he could move a muscle, Imiga had gotten in himself and they both locked gazes.

Just before the doors closed, Imiga gave him a twisted smile and waved a small bye-bye.

Yuri waited for a reaction with bated breath. The elevator was deathly silent; no sound except for the whirring of the machine operating the tin box. Inside her now she felt nothing but emptiness, sheer hollow emptiness, as if an organ had been ripped out brutally from her system. For the first time, she would be going home without her Supra. For the first time, she had actually lost in her Supra. Now she waited for the blow, the blow that Imiga always gave to her back in Hokkaido whenever she had displeased him.

And then it came.

He turned around suddenly and slapped her hard, right on her cheek. The force was so great that she was forced onto her knees. Her cheek stinging hotly of his slap, she bit her lip to withstand the pain. She couldn't show him her weakness. Not now. Not here. But neither could she attempt to argue with him, or defy him, for he could just pluck out his cell phone, make that call, and she would never see her mother again.

Tears again pricked at her eyes, but she forced herself not to cry. He yanked her arm up to get her to her feet and she couldn't stop the yell of pain from escaping her lips. "Painful now, isn't it?" he hissed at her ear. "Now you know what it's like to have your honour smeared, smeared with black ink. You have shamed me!" He roared the last sentence at her face and gave her another hard slap on the other cheek. She let out a brief, ragged whimper, waiting for his next move.

"Day after tomorrow, I want you to be back here with a car," he said, much calmer than before, but it held a lethal edge to it, and his words might just as well slit her throat there and then, "And when you race, you win, okay? Win, or I'll make that blasted phone call. Oh I swear I will. You haven't seen the rest of me yet. Understand?"

She nodded shakily.

The elevator doors opened and Imiga quickly led his gang out. Yuri followed silently then parted ways immediately once out of the elevator, holding her head down so that no-one would notice her beet red face, red not from blushing but red from pain. She walked aimlessly, blindly, as long as she was far and away from him. Tears threatened blurred her vision, but she was alert enough to watch out for obstacles and evade them just in time. She wouldn't like to add another bruise or scar to her gallery of injuries.

"Now what did I tell ya, Twink?" said Sean with a wide grin as they emerged out of the other elevator. "I told ya the guy would win – any guy who drifts like Han won't loose to a wannabe Jap gal like her."

Twink was not happy at the idea of giving money to anyone, so after paying off a huge sum of it to those who had betted for the guy, he was at his murkiest mood when he handed over the last of the betting cash over to him. "Yeah, yeah, you don't need ta toot like that. It's bad enough that you're just about earnin' wads of yen every day by winnin' races – "

Sean halted all of a sudden. Twink frowned and turned around to look at him, still holding the cash.

"Hey what are you – " Twink said as he followed Sean's stare. His eyes nearly popped out of his sockets when he saw Neela talking to, of all people, that jerk freak idiot Morimoto.

"Whoa is that what I – wait, Sean, what you doin' man?"

Sean made a furious beeline for them, his fists clenched and his jaw set in such a way that Twink had never seen before. "Hey Sean! Sean!"

Morimoto saw Sean coming for him and backed off instantly, holding his hands up and saying, "Hey, hey, easy boy – just talking to an old friend."

"The hell you are talkin' to an 'old friend'," hissed Sean, giving him a rough shove. He didn't, and couldn't tolerate people who had once insulted and tested his patience mercilessly in the past. Sean didn't forget easily, and neither did he forgive. "Now you better tell me what you're doin' here before I find out the hard way."

"Sean!" said Neela, putting her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "We were just talking, baby."

Sean's eyes darted wildly between her and Morimoto, upon whose face was already carved a sarcastic smirk. The look in Neela's face, one that showed nothing short of horror, fear, and plea, softened his heart and made him realise how close he had come to loosing his temper, something that he had promised himself he would never do in front of her, especially because of her. She had made him make that promise or she would walk out on him. For good.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Morimoto and said as calmly as he could, "Get the freakin' hell outta my face."

"Done," said Morimoto, and he went off, disappearing into the scene.

"What's wrong with you?" asked Neela with a shake of her head.

"What? What did I do wrong?"

"Just look at yourself. You almost punched him, didn't you? Didn't you?"

"Look, I was just concerned, okay?" He almost yelled at her.

"Oh good, now you're raising your voice against me, aren't you? You're so hell of a great right now aren't you?" she retorted back him, but her eyes were shining with the promise of tears.

Sean drew another deep breath. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, right? How would I know what he was up to?" Neela shook her head and started to walk away, but he caught her hand.

"Neela, please," he said pleadingly.

She turned around and her eyes were already slightly moist and red. He felt bad at once. "Three years ago, I would have just stayed and swallowed it all," she said slowly, her voice shaking, "But that was then. I won't stand up to this now. I don't want a guy who loses his head over stupid things like me talking to another guy. I want a man who thinks twice before saying or doing anything. I'm sorry Sean, but I need a break. We both need a break. I love you, Sean. I love you more than anything in the world, and I can't imagine living without your love. But we need to step back and give each other some breathing space, you know?"

He felt his heart breaking, heard the cracks widening and tiny shards clinking. "Please, Neela – please don't do this."

"I must. We must. Rethink your priorities okay? When you think you've got everything figured out, then call me."

"But I have gotten every damn thing figured out," he insisted. "I love you, and I don't give a damn about anythin' else. Nothin's more important to me than havin' you by my side. I need you, Neela. I really do."

But she shook her head again, this time defiantly, and Sean knew that it was a definite no. He could only stand there, helpless and shattered, as he watched her walk away towards her RX-8.

It was a long, long silence as he saw her leave, Neela not once looking back at him, but he could see the trail of wet tears on her face when her car drove past him slowly before roaring its way out.

"Hey Sean," said Twink hesitantly. "I – uh…"

"What is it, Twink?" He turned around to look at his friend, but judging from the look on his face, he was not in the mood to be amused.

"It's just that, uh… well look over there!"

Sean glanced at where Twink was pointing and saw the lone and forlorn figure of his Jap step-sister. Her head was bowed down, as if not wanting to look at even the road before her, and suddenly he felt the urge to call out to her.

"Hey – hey Yuri!"

She turned around, surprised to see that the call came from him, but walked towards him anyway, her eyes narrowed curiously and frowningly at him. Twink was even more surprised to hear that Sean actually knew the chick's name, and boy, what a heck of a chick she was. She didn't look like the ordinary Jap girls that littered Boshi, but there was something unusual in her. He couldn't call her a Jap, but at the same time, he couldn't call her a Caucasian either. And look at those long, fine legs, thought Twink most approvingly, she deserves to be on the catwalk.

"What?" she said bluntly at Sean. Sean saw traces of red streaks on her face, especially around her cheeks and frowned. "Boy, what happened to ya?"

"What do you care?" she replied carelessly, but Sean had to know. If they went home to the Lieutenant like this, he would have not just her but him too, grounded for good, even though he was not schooling anymore.

"Well, er, Yuri, this is Twink. Twink – Yuri. I feel like goin' home. Come on, I'll give you a lift."

Yuri would rather be caught dead than being seen getting into a car with him, but she could save money on taxi fare. She smiled faintly at Twink, who returned the smile with a wide one. "Nice ta meetcha. You goin' off so soon, Sean?"

"Yep, ya heard me. See ya tomorrow. Let's go, Yuri."

She had no choice but to follow him to his S15, a dark silver beauty that, unfortunately, was plastered all over with decals. She didn't approve of that kind of taste. "Ugh. Why do you do this to your car?" she couldn't help but ask as he unlocked it.

"Do what?" he asked accusingly, frowning.

"Scarring your S15 with nosy little decals," she said irritably. Even though she wished she had kept her mouth shut, in a way she was glad that she hadn't because slowly but surely by arguing, it was returning a little bit of life and spirit back into her. And surprisingly, she knew almost certainly that he felt the same way.

Sean tried to stifle a grin. "They ain't nosy."

She couldn't quite well hide her smile as well. "Oh yes they are."

His grin grew wider as he got into the driver's seat. "I said they ain't."

"I say they are."

"Why you little – "

"Go on, say it cowboy. Say the word. I dare you to."

"Prick."

"Baka."

"Hardeehar. Very funny."

But the little argument ceased after a while. They both fell quiet as he steered his way out of the parking basement. It wasn't until they halted at the first traffic light that he turned and asked her: "Now you're gonna tell me what the heck happened to you after that race or I can't help you arrange a good defense against the Lieutenant."

She closed her eyes for a while. "It's one hell of a story. Can you please just act like you never saw anything?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm your step-brother. If anything happens to ya, the Lieutenant is gonna skin me alive. And ya know that I'm too young to die like that."

P.S. – Baka means 'idiot'. Review please, as always!