Crimson Storms // A Hiroto Amamiya Fiction

Chapter Nineteen: The Race

• Suki Nakamura •

   Street racing has always been my thing; the thrill is just unbeatable. However, I've never been in the driver's seat, mainly because I never had the cash to buy a car or a motorcycle.

Tonight's race is all about motorcycles, a speed dash to the bridge. You rev up from one end and tear down to the other. Cobra bragged about the record being a mere 10 seconds. 

Rolling in with Cobra stirred quite the commotion. The ladies shot me a few side-eye glares, and the guys couldn't resist a subtle up-and-down glance. But it's not like I'm not used to it. 

Cobra shot a glance back at me, "Stay close," his firm grip on my wrists, leading us through the bustling crowd.

The pulse of the racing world became palpable as Cobra engaged with fellow racers, discussing engines and strategies. His reputation seemed to echo through the space, establishing him as a figure of authority. The respect people accorded him made it evident that Sannoh Rengokai held a significant presence in the racing realm.

As Cobra stepped back, introducing me to the three racers, Ryohei greeted, "You must be the new girl in town."

A cheerful addition came from Shuntaro, "And I'm the 13-Second Title holder."

I chuckled, teasing, "But I heard the fastest is ten seconds?"

Amid their laughter, Kento joined, "Forgive my friend, I'm Kento. Will you be racing tonight?"

I shot a look at Cobra, playfully questioning, "I don't know, will Cobra let me borrow his motorcycle?"

Their collective "Ooh" resonated, while Cobra met my gaze with a smirk. The banter continued as Shuntaro pulled out a wad of cash, announcing his bet on me breaking the fifteen-second record.

Ryohei joined in, waving cash, "My bet is Suki beating your record."

Kento, with a mischievous grin, chimed in, "And my bet is on Cobra letting her borrow his motorcycle."

Silence enveloped us as we awaited Cobra's response. Finally, he broke it with a deadpan declaration, "One scratch and you're dead." Cheers erupted around us, drawing attention from the people around us.

   The engine purred beneath me, a comforting hum that resonated with my anticipation. I exhaled, a visible cloud of excitement, and ran my fingers over the motorcycle's handles. A quick self-check in the mirror, and Cobra approached, placing his jacket around my exposed legs, and fastening it securely around my waist.

"Don't wear a skirt next time you race," he advised.

"Okay, father," I teased, rolling my eyes at his unexpected conservatism. With a swift motion, I secured the helmet in place.

"Feel the engine, don't forget to brake. You can just test this out, no need to win," Cobra reminded me. My gaze drifted behind him, catching sight of people placing their bets. He followed where I was looking, concern etched on his face. "Hey, you understand? We can always lose money, just not life."

"Chill, I got this," I assured him, shielding my face with the visor. With a confident rev of the engine, I watched Cobra step back, a mix of anxiety and an attempt at composure on his face. I was determined to prove that I could get through this without a scratch and even break the record.

As I prepared to speed off, my designated opponent pulled up beside me. Typically, I wouldn't pay much attention, as it had always been a competition with myself. However, I froze as I realized the identity of the person beside me. 

It was none other than Hiroto Amamiya.