Masaru

Masaru had been to this outskirts lot more than once. He knew the place well: an old industrial zone, concrete slabs, remnants of warehouse walls, and between them—dozens of cars, garlands strung from pole to pole, music blasting from trunk speakers, and a food truck that always had a line. Some were sitting on hoods, some were drinking canned coffee, others were just standing there listening to the engines. Masaru parked in his usual spot on the edge, stepped out, nodded to acquaintances, and headed toward the organizer.

The organizer already had the list on his phone and didn't even ask if it was Masaru's first time. He simply called out his name for confirmation and slotted him into the next pair. Masaru returned to his car, sat behind the wheel, buckled up, and placed his hands on the steering wheel. He knew the ritual: first silence, then the music fades, then everyone clears the track, leaving only the girl with the checkered flag in the middle of the road.

She raised her hand, smiled, and sharply dropped the flag. Masaru depressed the clutch, shifted into first gear, and slammed the gas. The car lunged forward, the wheels spinning in place for a split second before gripping the asphalt. Masaru shifted gears at high RPMs, the engine roaring at its limit. His opponent was right beside him, slightly behind. Masaru didn't look sideways, only at the road ahead.

He had almost reached the finish line when flashing lights appeared in the oncoming lane. A police car swung around and began chasing him. Masaru frowned, slapped the steering wheel with his palm, and exhaled through gritted teeth. He didn't stop for long, continuing to drive even though the flashing lights in the mirror were already irritating him. He only stopped when he decided it was time. He slowed down, drove a few hundred more meters, and pulled over to the shoulder. He killed the engine, rolled down the window, and gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

The patrol car stopped behind him, and two officers stepped out. One approached Masaru's window. Masaru looked at him and gave a cocky smirk, though inside he was boiling with irritation. "Did I break something?"