Takao

A multi-story indoor parking garage in the Shibuya district. Neon signs, hundreds of spectators, and a booming bass line surround it. Suddenly, the music stops. The crowd parts in deathly silence. A motorcade of three black Toyota Centuries slowly pulls into the parking lot. Security guards emerge from the cars, followed by the Oyabun (the head of the Yakuza clan) named Takao. An old, scarred, and incredibly dangerous man. He has come to watch street racing for the first time in person, to select a personal courier to transport contraband at high speeds. The race organizer, Takashi, is panicking: his best driver is hysterical behind the scenes, terrified of the mafia, and refuses to get behind the wheel. The car is empty. The Yakuza boss frowns in displeasure. Takashi understands that if the race doesn't take place, he will be buried right here. He nervously turns to his assistant:
— Will anyone do?

• Yes.
• Anyone?
• Yes. It doesn't matter, as long as the car moves!
  Takashi dials the number with trembling fingers and shouts into the phone, "Help! Double the rate!" A minute later, a deafening roar of an engine echoes from the lower levels of the parking lot. A black Nissan GT-R R34 flies up onto the floor, performs a perfect drift just a centimeter away from the crowd, raising smoke from its tires, and comes to a screeching halt right at the starting line. The tinted window slowly rolls down. Inside, in the semi-darkness, only the girl's cold gaze is visible. One of the race favorites, a guy in a souped-up gray Toyota Supra, who had been the most confident until this moment, suddenly turns pale. His cigarette falls to the pavement. He takes a step back and whispers fearfully to his mechanic:
• Damn... It's Rin.