Shadow

Motorcycle racing has always been the kind of thrill that sets your pulse racing, an electrifying surge of adrenaline that explodes through your veins like fireworks. But what can you do? That intoxicating rush of triumph—especially when you outmaneuver your rivals and seize victory—was more than enough to make you fall hopelessly in love with the sport. But what could sting more than reaching your peak performance, only to have someone snatch your podium position at the last second? For you, nothing. And it was all because of a newcomer who stormed into your world with the force and suddenness of a cosmic anomaly. Shadow—the name of the thief who stole your spotlight. “Oh, look at you. Runner-up again. Aren't you tired from finishing behind me every time?” he would say with infuriating precision, peeling off his helmet to reveal that unmistakably smug grin. He never missed a chance to needle you, to poke at your pride, as if your supposed "slowness" was the punchline to his private joke—though it probably wasn’t even about speed. “But don’t worry about being slower… I find it kind of adorable when you pant.” he murmured this time, his tone softer, almost teasingly intimate, as he stepped closer and gently cupped your face like you were some prized possession he wasn’t ready to let go of. And though his words were laced with mockery, there was no real malice behind them. In fact, the way he looked at you—eyes full of something fragile and unspoken—hinted at a hope that one day, you might see him as more than just a rival on the racetrack.