coanda effect

by bunniehoney

Summary:

Coanda effect: noun (Co·an·da effect) (kō¦andə-, -än-) : the tendency of a fluid jet, such as airflow, to be attracted to a nearby surface. Used in motorsport and car design by aerodynamicists to help divert airflow to specific areas of the car.

 

-

“Yo, Satoru.”

Getou Suguru looks older. His hair is longer. He still has the same small scar along the left side of his forehead from 2013. It’s fainter, now, than it was then.

“It’s been a while.”

It's been seven years, but who's keeping count?

-

Or, the JJK motorsport AU based on Formula One.

Chapter 1: i - outlap

Summary:

Noun. out lap (plural: out laps) (in reference to motor racing) In qualifying, the (non-competitive) lap on which one exits the pit lane and prepares for a flying (competitive) lap , to set grid positions for the grand prix or other feature race.

Notes:

hello. welcome to my magnum opus. my two hyperfixations coming together. sorry if you follow me for my BF fic (i promise it's getting updated soon!)

anyway, quick breakdown: even though i've tried to make it self-explanatory, you'll probably need some basic F1 knowledge to get the technical aspects of this fic. I use a lot of racing terms, lol :) if you are an F1 fan, this is in no way RPF of any actual drivers even though i will take inspo from certain events and teammate dynamics (iykyk, i guess ur cursed with it). The word formula is also replaced with Grade, just to add in some jjk spice.

also: please mind the tags, this is tagged as CHOSE not to use warnings, not no warnings apply for a reason, ty!

I use the IRL F1 calendars for each year and racetracks throughout, and reference the modern points system. i am also aware that F2 was only introduced in 2017 (bless leclerc, first f2 golden boy), but for simplicity, i am using the F4-F1 format as far back as the early 2000s. this fic also ignores (for the most part) sexism and gender gaps in motorsport. suspend ur disbelief!!

teams are named after JJK eras, instead of using the IRL teams. There are also several characters who drive for alternate countries to Japan, but I am NOT whitewashing characters or changing their ethnicities in any way - explanations will be in the fic, but most just have dual citizenship. Just to shake things up since having a majority of the grid from any country is rare.

ok, onto the fic bc this note is super long!! more notes at the end!!

EDIT (2/11/23) This chapter has been edited heavily! might be worth a reread!

1999, Japan

 

When Suguru was six, his dad made the incredibly stupid - according to his mom - mistake - also according to his mom - of buying him an electric go-kart. He had peeled the bow off the front, and sat in the seat, and refused to get out, driving in circles in the driveway until he was peeled out of it by his very disgruntled mother, telling him he had to eat sometime.

But Suguru loved that kart. He used to speed it up and down the road in front of his house, accelerator pressed to the cool metal floor and wind flying through his hair. 

He didn’t feel any wind in his hair when his dad bought him a new kart, a real petrol one, because he also got a new helmet, a proper one that he struggled to pick up, at first. It was shiny, and had his initials on the crown, and a small Japanese flag at the base. It even had a proper visor that he could flip up and down. He spent hours doing so, actually, fascinated by the way the hinges worked. 

Still, the old electric kart sat in the garage, and Suguru put a sheet over it to keep it clean. 

His dad took him to a proper track for his seventh birthday. They hooked up a trailer to his dad’s car’s towbar, and pushed the kart in together, and drove almost two hours to the nearest track. 

The wheels hit the tarmac of the start line. Suguru shuffled himself around in the seat. Pulled the visor down and struggled against the urge to pull it up again to test the hinges. 

No one should have been surprised that Getou Suguru was a natural. So much of a natural that his dad got excited about it. So much of a natural that they moved houses, to be closer to the track, to practise more. 

Suguru would stand by the door, hold the helmet in his hands, jump up and down, tell his dad to hurry up! 

His dad would laugh, tell him to be patient. He was a natural, after all. Things would come to him, he’d just have to wait. 

As an eighth birthday present, Suguru’s dad replaced his kart again, with a super cool new (pre-loved) kart that was in line with competitive regulations. Because, starting in June, all the way until September, his dad had let him race in a full competitive season of karting! The whole summer! Just for racing! 

They rented a motorhome, with a towbar for Suguru’s kart, and Suguru had a race suit, and proper shoes, and he was holding his helmet close to his chest, hoping he could show it to someone. His school friends didn’t really care. Maybe he could make real racing friends, who would tell him that his suit was cool. And that the initials on his helmet were cool, too. 

His motorhome is parked right next to another one, and it’s not long before he sees another child his age wander out. She’s pretty, with light brown hair. She’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt with a cartoon character on the front. Suguru doesn’t recognise it. He doesn’t like watching TV. 

“Hi.” 

The girl turns. Her eyes are wide. She frowns at him as if she didn’t expect to be spoken to. “Hi.” 

“I’m Getou Suguru.” Suguru shuffles his feet. “What’s your name?” 

The girl blinks. “Ieiri Shoko.” 

“Do you want to have dinner with us?” 

“No, thanks.” 

There’s a pause. Suguru really wants to make friends with her. He’d offered dinner! Is that not what you’re supposed to do?

“Are you racing?” 

Shoko looks at him like he has two heads. “Yes. I am racing.” 

“It’s my first real race,” Suguru blurts. 

Shoko purses her lips together. Then she smiles, “me too.”

The sun sets, and Shoko and Getou walk around the track together, in the dying light. It turns out Shoko’s family sold his dad the kart that he drives. Shoko comes from a proper racing family, with loads of money, and they bought her a new kart for the series. For the summer. 

Suguru thinks it’s a little wasteful, but he says nothing. He wishes Shoko luck when they line up on the track for their first practice session. He looks at the number on his kart, forty-seven, and hopes he gets to keep it when he races in another series. 

In practice, he learns a few things. One: being a natural does not mean you’re faster than anyone else. Shoko laps him. 

Two: no one gets out of each other’s way. He hates it. It’s so hard to find space to push the kart, and he doesn’t know anyone’s racing lines, and everyone seems to move from one side of the track to the other all the time. Where were the racing principles that his dad taught him?! 

Three: he learns about the existence of Gojo Satoru. He’s his age, apparently. A few months older. He catches a glimpse of brilliantly white hair under a balaclava, and blue eyes through a visor, before he flips it down. His number on his kart is boring, a number zero. 

They’re in the same heat, in the end. Gojo races fiercely. They bump a few times. 

Suguru climbs out of his kart. His legs feel like jelly. It’s his longest stint in the kart so far, and he was so nervous, and it all catches up with him at once. He stumbles, hand resting over his own number, only to see Gojo staring at him. 

He’s holding his helmet. Getou thinks it looks too big for his small hands. It dangles near his knees. Gojo is standing, next to his kart, pulled up on track, just staring. 

Getou pulls his helmet off, then his balaclava. Gojo doesn’t look away, still. 

“Who are you?” 

Getou looks behind him. 

“No, you.” Gojo is demanding an answer. He jabs a finger forward in the air toward Getou.

“Getou Suguru.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says, and Getou already knows, but he also doesn't, so he listens. “We have the same initials, in English,” 

Suguru doesn’t really know what to say to that. They’re not speaking English. They’re speaking Japanese. Suguru doesn’t even speak English very well. He finds he doesn’t have to know what to say, in the end, because Gojo turns around and starts pushing his kart away, all by himself. 

His dad doesn’t know who Gojo is. Shoko does, though. Because she’s from a racing family, obviously. 

“He’s been driving since he was four! That’s like, four years already! I’ve only been driving for two! ‘Cause his dad-” Shoko lowers her voice, “his dad was a Grade One driver,”

Suguru can only breathe out in shock. Grade One racing is, like, the best racing in the world. He watches it on the TV with his dad. His dad doesn’t know what’s going on, but Getou loves watching the fast cars. The overtakes are so cool. 

“Gojo’s dad was in Grade One?” 

“And his grandad, and his uncle, and his great-great-grandad!” Shoko says, “and his grandad was a world champion, like, three times!” 

“That’s so cool.” 

“But he’s nasty. He races dirty.” Shoko’s nose wrinkles. 

On the day of the feature race, the first one of the series, it rains. It doesn’t just rain. It pours. A deluge. 

It’s really hard to race in the rain. The tyres don’t stick on the tarmac like they’re supposed to. It makes turning difficult. So everyone goes slower in the rain. 

Getou thinks he does well. He’s used to driving in the rain. He refused to miss a single day of driving on the track, even when it was pouring. 

Shoko does a little better than him. She’s a good driver, a really good one. Because she comes from a racing family. Getou’s mom doesn’t know anything about racing. His dad only knows karts. 

Gojo wins. Getou hears the whispers. He’s more experienced. He raced in Europe a few weeks ago. He only races, he barely even goes to school. 

He’s kind of jealous of that. He doesn’t like school. He wishes he could drive cars all the time. 

Gojo wins because he is good in the rain. Because he goes at the same speed as in the dry, and manages to keep control of the car. 

Getou, at age eight, becomes aware of the fact that although he is a natural in a car, Gojo Satoru is a freak of nature. Completely exceptional. 

 

—

 

December 2021, United Arab Emirates 

 

However long Gojo has been racing in Grade One, one thing never changes. 

He fucking loves media day. When he started racing in grade one, it didn’t exist: just a few interview questions here and there, about the car, the power unit, a teammate. Now, it’s a full-blown day prior to the practice start on Friday. They film challenges, videos, have press conferences and fan zones and TV pens. He knows a lot of drivers don’t like the media days - Nanami, mostly, which is ironic, considering Yu is a reporter - but he enjoys it. It’s a breather from the brutal pace of the rest of the weekend.

He doesn’t want to sound old or anything, talking about how much the sport has changed in the decade he’s been driving - he’s still only thirty-three. There’s quite a few drivers on the grid older than him, or at least, a similar age, anyway. He practises his English answer to the inevitable question in his head: yes, I had a good birthday, actually, away from home in the middle of a double header, but it’s fine, because Shoko made me a cake. 

Christ. 

Yas Island is hot. It’s always hot: night races are usually night races because of the humidity, or the heat, or time zones in relation to Europe, or a mix of all three. Night races are (usually) easier on his eyes, but his body is another thing to insert into the equation. 

But he’s still fit, and whilst the world championship has already been decided for the season, he’d like to end it on a win. He’s got the car to do it. But with Yuuta on his ass the entire season, he really needs to do it in qualifying. Then there’s Yuuji, only in his second Grade One season. His car looked fast at the last race in Jeddah, but the Sengoku has been… 

Well, unpredictable at best. Yuuji either puts it in the wall because of their ongoing steering issues or ends up dragging it to the podium with very little in between. He’s been on the podium enough this season to be pretty damn close to Gojo in the points, even if it’s mostly because the Jujutsu this season isn’t particularly fast. He’s wiped the floor with his teammate, Inumaki, and whilst Gojo is sympathetic to their plight driving a literal shitbox, Yuuji’s made his talent clear against someone who is– less. 

Yuuji’s a good kid. He’s smart, and he’s cheeky, and he knows how to work the media. He’s painfully honest, and above all else, he’s really fucking fast. So when Scuderia Keicho decided to sign Itadori Yuuji alongside Yuuta for 2022, he was thrilled for him. They’ve made heaps of progress this season, and undoubtedly Yuuji deserves a seat where he has a decent, consistent car. A car that this year, and for the two years before that, won the constructors’ and drivers’ championships. 

Yuuji is undoubtedly the future of grade one, possibly the future of all motorsport. He’s young, good-looking, and he’s in love with racing. He can name every world champion all the way back to the fifties. He’s memorised every race result from the last ten years, he can name the podium finishers, the almost-champions, the race winners. It’s a cute little media trick that the higher-ups like to parade around when they shoot their promotional footage - look at this kid! Isn’t he such a nerd?

Oh, and did Gojo mention he’s super fucking fast ?

So he’s equal parts thrilled and equal parts terrified when Yaga tells him that Yuuji’s going to be in a competitive seat next season. Thrilled because he and Yuuji get on when they’re in press conferences together. He managed to make Yuuji laugh so hard he cried in one, in his rookie season, when he had approximately zero PR training. So much that the reporter had stopped to ask Yuuji if he was okay. They’re friends. They both live in Monaco (for the tax haven, on Gojo’s part, for the social life, on Yuuji’s). 

Terrified, because Yuuji is an incredible driver. And with a competitive car, he’ll be pretty unstoppable. Gojo would even put money on Yuuji outracing Yuuta, although he’d never say that out loud to any reporters. He’d be crucified for saying it.

Gojo’s contract runs out next year. At the end of 2022. And it’s the grid’s worst kept secret that he isn’t really planning on renewing it. He’ll find a new home in the sport, maybe as an engineer, or an ambassador, or a strategist, but racing and travelling is- 

It’s getting old. 

Not that Gojo is getting old! No, in fact, he’s younger than ever! Still the youngest race winner of all time! 

But after everything that’s happened, and winning a record-equalling (but not record-beating, as he is cruelly reminded by reporters about three times a week) six world championships, he wants to end on a good note. He wants it to be completely undeniable that he’s the best racer: wants to win a seventh world drivers’ championship. And having Yuuji behind him in a competitive car is going to make that much, much harder. But he’s not been in a championship fight recently, and he can’t deny that he’s excited for it. To prove himself all over again, like he did at twenty.

“Hey, Gojo!” 

He looks down to his left, where Yuuji Itadori is grinning up at him with pearly white teeth and recently dyed pink hair. Gojo can’t resist reaching out to ruffle at it. “Hey, Yuuji. You lost the bet, then?” 

Yuuji groans. “Megumi was happier about this than the race win, I swear.” 

“I think the pink looks good,” 

Yuuji looks up at him, deadpan, “you and Megumi are the same person.” 

“I dunno why you made the bet,” Gojo shrugs, “it was pretty obvious he was gonna win in Jeddah. His form’s been good recently.”

Megumi is here this weekend, racing in Grade Two, but with the schedule conflicts, they won’t see each other much until Megumi comes to the Jujutsu garage later to watch the race. 

“Well, his idea was a tattoo, but I told him the only way I’d get one is if he won a Grade One championship.” 

Gojo laughs out loud, because that doesn’t sound like Megumi at all, and honestly, he wouldn’t have made Yuuji follow through on it. “Getou made a bet that if he ever won the world drivers’ I’d get a tattoo,” 

“Well, where is it, then?” Yuuji presses, knocking their shoulders together. 

“Never got one,” Gojo shrugs, “I doubt he even remembers, we talked about it when we were like, sixteen or something. In Grade Three, or Grade Four, I think, I can’t remember,” 

“You were grade three when you were sixteen, I think Getou would’ve been grade four, though.” 

“Ha. He did spend, like three years there,” 

“Yeah, but then he won everything else back-to-back,” Yuuji huffs. “So.” 

Yeah. Yuuji’s a history buff. He knows everything. Gojo is sure Yuuji knows more about his career than he does. And he’s lived it. He should know. 

Although for a lot of it, he supposes he wasn’t really paying attention to the racing. So. 

They turn the corner to the building where the press conference is. Yuuji swings open the door, grinning, “ladies first,” 

Gojo grumbles and shoves past him through the door. It’s a small press conference. Gojo, Yuuji, Nanami, Yuuta, and Utahime. He’s supposed to sit next to Utahime, who looks, as always, like she wants him dead. Getting dropped from Keicho will do that to someone, Gojo supposes, even if she claims she wants to step down after two world championships and near-on a decade driving for them. 

He leans down to Yuuji and whispers, “five euros for you to take my seat.” 

“What? No, she hates me, too!” Yuuji hisses back, and they must look like a couple of idiots in the corner of the room, holding up the entire conference because they’re the last ones to arrive. 

“Ten.” 

“We’re both millionaires.”

“Twenty.” 

“Done.” 

So Yuuji takes his seat next to Utahime, and Gojo shuffles, smiles for the cameras, adjusts his sunglasses. The flash on the cameras hurts his eyes. He doesn’t care if it makes him look like a dick. He thinks that people who don’t know about his light sensitivity must be willfully ignoring him, at this point. 

He’s sandwiched in between Yuuji and Nanami. A soon-to-be ex-teammate and a future rival. Not too bad. He nudges Nanami with his shoulder, and Nanami ignores him. Like always.  

“Lighten up,” 

“Do your job.” 

“I am doing my job,” 

“Alright, let’s get started, shall we?” The man at the front claps his hands together, and so it begins. 

“Josh Kitchener from Grade One Daily , question for Okkotsu, please - with the new regulations and a new teammate next season, are you expecting to be competitive and be able to defend your world championship?” 

Gojo leans back in his chair to shoot a cheeky smile at Yuuta, because he knows the answer to this one. Yuuta knew he was going to be asked it, because it’s the thing on the tip of everyone’s tongues. Is Yuuta a fluke, with Utahime’s health struggles this season and Gojo’s mechanical issues? Or is he truly a great driver, worthy of what he’s won?

Yuuta wrinkles his nose up, like he does when he thinks he shouldn’t have to answer a question, but has to anyway. “Keicho is my team. I came up through their Academy and I’m very much at home here. The new regulations are always somewhat of an unknown, but I’ve seen the project and I’m confident in it.” 

Gojo leans forward again, grinning. Yuuta glares at him.

 

The rest of the conference goes on, with more of the same. Yuuji, how are you feeling about the move to Scuderia Keicho? Good. The team is the strongest on the grid right now, alongside JTR. I can’t wait to fight for race wins and championships. Nanami, how are you feeling about the move from JTR to Sengoku? Good. I was never going to stay with JTR forever and I’m ready to move on. I get asked this every week, I’m tired of these same stupid questions. Gojo, you had an unlucky start to the season. How are you going to pull yourself back next season? That should be a question for Yaga, not me. It was car faults and bad luck, as you say, not driver error. Utahime, your new team is quite a step down. How are you feeling about that? Fine. I don’t want to be in championship fights anymore, I’ve been open about my health declining and stepping down in commitments and expectations is a way to manage that. There's somewhat less pressure in the midfield.

“Okay, time for one more question?” 

A hand in the sea of reporters flies up, and a young woman introduces herself. “Grace Mack, for AeroSport Weekly. Question for Gojo.” 

Gojo leans forward, flashing his teeth. 

“Within the last few hours, it’s been announced that your ex-teammate, and world champion driver Suguru Getou will return to the grid next year as a team principal for Scuderia Keicho, after having headed the junior team successfully in grade two for the last three years. What are your thoughts on this? Does he have the potential to continue to push the team forward? Is he too inexperienced to head a grade one team, with the pressure?” 

Gojo blinks. Then he breathes in and out. Then he blinks again. “Sorry? Suguru’s what?” 

“He’s the new team principal of Scuderia Keicho next year. Since you know him so well, what are your thoughts on it?” 

In his whole career, spanning over a decade of racing, Gojo has never been blindsided by something like this. Getou hated being on the grid, especially near the end. He hated the travel, he hated the diet, he hated his teammate, he hated his entire fucking team. And now he’s willingly signing up to do it all over again? 

“I wasn’t made aware.” Gojo closes his mouth, and swallows. He hopes that’s enough of an answer. 

But still, the reporter pushes. “Do you think he has the potential? Especially considering that they’ve retained the current world champion and signed the rookie of the year, who is toted as being a future champion?” 

Gojo risks a glance at Yuuta. He’s looking away, not meeting Gojo’s eyes. So he knew. Yuuji, to his credit, looks just as shocked about this development as he is, looking back and forth between Gojo and the reporter. But Yuuta’s been part of the team all his career, whilst Yuuji’s– Gojo isn’t sure if he’s even signed the contract, yet. If he has, the ink isn't dry. 

Gojo turns back to the reporter. He wants to lie. Getou’s completely incompetent, he’ll fuck the team and the car up even more than it already is. He wants to spit in anger, I haven’t spoken to Getou since the day he left the team, and I don’t know anything more than you do, and fuck you, I’ll give you your soundbite! Why don’t you ask Nanami! They were friends, too! Ask Yaga! Not me!

Instead, he smiles, and uses all his years of PR training and exhales thinly. “I’m sure that he will do a great job. He has intimate knowledge of racing and he understands the engineering of the cars well, so he will make a good principal, although time will tell.” 

The questions end, and Gojo doesn’t wait around to find out if any of his fellow drivers have anything to say about it, either. He stands, abrupt, and rude, and he knows his actions will speak much louder than his carefully crafted, practically robotic response ever will. The chair scrapes on the floor, and Gojo is out the door before anyone else has even gotten up. 

Usually, he loves media day. Usually. Then there are outliers that ruin his entire perception of it. He stalks back to the Jujutsu motorhomes, and ignores the cameras following him, and slams the door as he enters the small space where they’ve been living for the last three weeks. “Yaga?” 

He hears Yaga’s gruff response from his office, and he stalks down the corridor, practically ripping the door off his hinges as he throws it open. “Why did no one tell me Getou’s coming back into grade one?” 

Getou, not Suguru. Because Suguru’s been gone since the day he walked out of his contract, of Jujutsu Tech, and out of Gojo’s life. Out of Satoru’s. Even though he’s seen him around, at races that overlap between the feeder series and grade one in the brutal seasons of the last three years, they’ve not had a proper conversation once. 

Yaga pinches the bridge of his nose. “He didn’t give us advance notice.” 

“Like hell he didn’t! Yuuta must have known something, right? Why didn’t he tell us?” 

“He’s probably signed some sort of NDA, so he couldn’t. Don’t be stupid about this.” 

“Like an NDA stopped him before-” 

“Satoru. Stop.” Yaga inhales. “I am well aware that this is a PR nightmare for us. I am aware that you should have been informed by someone other than a nosy reporter. But you had one of the most prevalent rivalries the sport has ever seen with him, and he was your teammate from karting , and reporters are going to want your opinions.” 

“They want clicks,” 

“They’re vultures, we know, but you have a TV pen and a fan zone today, and we have to shoot a couple of videos, and your responsibilities don’t stop because you’re feeling upset.” 

Gojo grits his teeth and swallows. When Yaga wants to, he can really put his foot down. 

“Understood?” 

“Yeah. Understood.” Gojo sighs, “can we- can we please cancel the videos? I’ll do the fanzone, and the TV pen, and I’ll make up for it, but-” 

Yaga softens. He’s not the youngest team principal on the grid anymore. Getou will be, come next season. “Yes. I’ll cancel. Focus on race strategy.” 

Gojo throws himself down on the couch opposite Yaga’s desk. There’s a long moment of silence, punctuated by Yaga clack-clack-clacking at his keyboard. From his side, with his cheek pressed into the cool leather, Gojo sighs. “Why is he coming back? He said he hated it. Wanted nothing to do with it.” 

“A lot can change in- how many years has it been?” Yaga pauses his typing. 

“Seven.” Gojo says. “Seven years.” 

Yaga looks at him, then. Really studies him. Gojo knows he’s being childish right now, being stupid, because he’s thirty-one years old, moping about something that happened in 2014. Almost a decade ago. 

“After this race, it’s over for a month or two. You can go back to Monaco, where there’s no cameras allowed, and relax.” 

Then there’s preseason work, and testing, and simulator stuff, and nothing really stops, ever. But he appreciates the sentiment, he supposes. 

Gojo hums. “Sure.” 

 

—

 

Everyone, up and down the grid, every reporter, every fan, knows one thing about Satoru Gojo, Grade One Racer, arguably the greatest of all time, easily the best of this era. 

He races best when he’s angry. 

Case in point: Valencia 2009, Silverstone 2012, Monaco 2015. Probably a bunch more, that Satoru can’t even really remember anymore. 

He hasn’t been this angry in a while. It’s been bubbling up inside him since Thursday, all through both free practices on Friday, where his car is faster on hot laps than Nanami’s by about two tenths. He has no idea where he’s finding the time, out on track, but he is. 

He clambers out of the car, changes into jeans and a team T-shirt, goes out to the press, and instead of asking him about his speed in FP1 or FP2, or the upgrades on the drag reduction that have given them more downforce specifically for the Yas Marina Circuit, which he’s proud of, because Shoko has worked hard with the team to push for it, this weekend. 

No. They want to know about Getou, his return, how this shakeup will affect next season. He’ll be the youngest team principal on the grid! He’s new blood! 

Gojo puts a smile on his face and grins and bears it. No matter what, he’ll pretend to be a good sportsman, and a gracious (ex) friend. The media knows he is neither of these things at the best of times, even though he’s better at it now than he was in his early racing days, and so they keep trying to goad him into saying something out of anger, or fear, or just straight up frustration. Some of the questions he’s getting are just straight up leading. 

But still, he’s here, standing in the garage, headphones flattening out the spikes in his hair. 

Shoko is next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder as they look at the data in front of them. Over the years, Gojo’s gotten pretty good at interpreting the data himself, so he doesn’t need it translating, but still. He knows Shoko understands it much better than he does. 

“Do we try and go out in clean air, then?” He asks, in Japanese. Over the radio, they have to speak English, but Shoko prefers Japanese. 

Shoko grimaces, pushing a headphone from one of her ears so she can hear Gojo better.  “Ideally. At least for Q3. Now that the championship’s won, we can try and play the team game, hope that Nanami will agree to punch a hole in the air for you in Q3?” 

Gojo shrugs. “We don’t have to hope. It’s his turn. I did it for him in Losail, so he owes me one.” 

He’d gone out ahead in qualifying for Qatar, sacrificing his own qualifying time so that Nanami could get a tow. The slipstream had helped him to P2, behind Yuuta on pole, but the championship was already decided at that point, so. 

“Right.” Slowly, Shoko tilts her head at the data in front of her. “If you’re not on pole, do you want to try and start on the soft to get a better start off the line?” 

“Let’s worry about that after quali.” 

“No, because we need to save some new softs, and if we go out with a new set for every flying lap, we’ll run out, and have none left for the actual race.” 

Gojo feels his lip twitch. Weekend-long tyre strategy is one of the things that has continued to change throughout his time in the sport. The tyre suppliers only provide each driver with a set amount of tyres per weekend: eight softs, three mediums, two hards. After each free practice, they have to give two sets of tyres back over to them, so going into qualifying, every driver has only seven sets of tyres. They’d used four softs, a medium and a hard in free practice, so Gojo is left with one set of hards, two mediums, and four softs. The hards are being saved for the Grand Prix, and aren’t that fast over a single lap anyway. 

The compounds differ slightly week to week, too. Here, the tyres are some of the softest: C5, C4, and C3: the three softest tyres in the range. But the Yas Marina circuit is not kind to tyres, and graining is giving them issues, so here they are. Debating on what tyres they need to save for the grand prix the day before. 

Mostly because they have no idea what tyre strategy Sengoku will go for, or Keicho. The most popular strategy will be a two-stop, starting on the medium, going to the hard, then back to the medium. Gojo has been tempted to try a one-stop, but a two-stop has been proven to be faster, and there’s no point staying out on tyres that are gone. 

Do you think Getou’s contribution to strategy will be a threat next season? It certainly was when he raced alongside you.

Gojo grits his teeth. There’s no need to think about stupid comments from reporters right now. “So if we want to save softs, we need to go out in Q1 with mediums, and hand those to the tyre guys after qualifying’s done.” 

“Yes, that would be the plan. But if you start on the front row, there’s no need to start on the softs.” 

“We could do softs at the end, instead,”

“That means a late pitstop. Does the soft give us that much of an advantage?” Shoko muses, bringing her thumb to her teeth. “The car is kinder to the tyres than most, this year, but- ah.” 

Gojo looks over to Nanami’s side of the garage. He’s leaning over a screen with his own engineer, nodding dutifully. He looks at the broadcasters’ feed, where they’re showing Yuuta in the Keicho garage. He watches as the ring on the chain around his neck glints under the fluorescent lights. He wants this final triumph as much as Gojo does. 

In a Championship fight, Getou is the only man to have taken you on and beaten you. Could his expertise be key in denying you a seventh world championship?

In racing, there is no luck. Sure, there’s well-timed safety cars, and your opponent’s engine blowing up, or a crash that knocks out a teammate so the pitstop strategy can favour you, after all. But there is no luck. Gojo knows this all too well. If you want to be extraordinary, then you have to take risks. 

“I’m fast enough, and I’m more experienced than Yuuta at managing the tyres. If we save the softs, I’ll use them at the end.” 

Shoko narrows her eyes, like she always does when there’s a tough strategy call. “Yuuta will be on medium to hard to medium,” 

Taking the popular choice. The smart one.

“It could help us both out, me and Nanamin, I mean. One less double stack.”

“Go warm up. I’ll speak to Yaga, see what he thinks.”

“Alright.” Gojo sighs, stretching his arms above his head, fireproofs slipping up over his hips. 

“You’d prefer to use a soft, though?” Shoko looks up at him, back at him, and Gojo is smiling at her, because he’s lucky to have an engineer who he’s close to. Who he’s known for so long. They do everything together, breathe in time, know what the other wants, always. It’s beyond a coworker relationship. Shoko’s been offered a promotion to chief engineer, and hasn’t taken it because of Gojo. That’s real friendship. 

“Yeah. No risk, no reward, right? We can manage the hards in the middle stint for a bit longer.” 

Shoko nods, turning back to the data and pulling her headphone back on. She waves Gojo away, who laughs. And still, rattling in his brain, questions from earlier:

You, Shoko Ieiri, and Suguru Getou were all in karts together. Do you have some insight into Getou’s mindset coming into this new job? It’s kind of a full circle moment, isn’t it?

Seven years, and he still can’t escape the shadow of his best friend. 

 

—

 

Gojo lowers himself into the cockpit, and immediately, Shoko’s voice is in his ears. “We’re going to wait for the Keicho and Sengoku guys to set times, and send you out for hopefully only one lap.” 

“Way to put pressure on.” 

He can almost hear Shoko’s exasperated sigh, even though her microphone isn’t on. He smiles to himself. 

“We don’t need a P1 time in Q1, you just need to be top fifteen, which you know you could do in your sleep. Concentrate. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Confirm.” 

Now, there’s the waiting game. Nanami also goes out first, with everyone else: he’s not saving a set of softs, so he’s got more wriggle room to go out for multiple flying laps whilst Gojo just has to sit in the garage, whilst they blow cool air over him and the engine, and wait. All because Yaga wants to save the mediums with minimal use, in case of a safety car. 

“Okay, Gojo, Kento is currently in P5 with a 1:23.8, still got the midfield coming in ahead of him. Itadori is currently on a flying lap, and he’s got a purple sector two,”

“Where’s Yuuta?” 

“Currently P1, with a time of 1:23.4,” 

Gojo blows out air through his teeth. “That’s close at the top,” 

“Projected knockout time is 1:24.3,” Shoko says, matter-of-fact. Gojo knows he did a 1:23.9 in practice on the medium tyre, but he’ll need to find more time. 

“Sengoku and Keicho are boxing, we’ll head out into clean air,”

“Confirm.” 

There’s nothing like driving a grade one car. Gojo can’t describe it. The dizzying excitement, the incredible feeling of raw power that buzzes just under his skin, spreading through him into the roar of the engine. He comes alive in the cockpit, hands on the wheel, feet on the pedals, head resisting the stupid amount of force that cornering gives. The mechanics drop the car down to the ground. Gojo watches them hold the tyre covers over, waiting for the signal. 

And then it comes, and Gojo can feel the delicious spin of wheels under him as he shifts up the gears, driving down the pitlane, his entire body buzzing, violent and angry. 

“There shouldn’t be any traffic,” Shoko says in his earpiece, and Gojo narrows his eyes, checking anyway. 

“Confirm.” 

“You know what to do. You’ve got five minutes on the clock.” 

That’s one of the main things he likes about Shoko. She knows when to leave him alone. His old engineers have always pestered over the radio about strategy, warming the tyres, when to push. Shoko knows Gojo likes to get in his own head, concentrate, feel out the car by himself. She’ll only interrupt when it’s actually needed, and isn’t afraid to piss him off if he’s wrong. 

The outlap is something else. He’s pretty much alone out on the track, wind cooling him down, skirting over his race suit. He turns the last corner, sees the start line, and presses down hard on the throttle. 

The car roars to life beneath him. The buzz burns his skin, and under his balaclava, and his helmet, under the watch of the halo, he grins wildly. The first straight is three hundred and five metres, and then he’s downshifting, late on the breaks, twisting the wheel to take the first corner. It’s a right angle to the left, and then he’s going faster, faster along the straight before taking the second corner to the left again. A slight curve, a straight, a hairpin. Then the longest straight of the whole track. 

Twelve hundred metres, full throttle, two hundred and ten miles per hour. It’s fucking glorious. It makes Gojo feel otherworldly. Like he’s not on Earth at all, he’s floating above it. 

Downshift, through the chicane, then up, up, up to full throttle again, pedal pressed flat to the metal, and Gojo knows he’s one of only a few drivers on mediums in this round, but that doesn’t mean he’s not able to put in a good time here. He has to. 

Late on the breaks and light on the breaks into the left hand curve at the base of the track, and he’s well into sector three, now, concentrating, heart rate through the roof.

He forgets to breathe until he’s round the final corner, crossing the line and-

“Shoko?” 

“That’s 1:23.5,” Shoko’s voice crackles, “P3 behind Okkotsu on softs and Yuuji, also on softs,” 

“Do we go again?” 

“You’re over a second within the projected knockout, we don’t need to,” Shoko says. “Box and pit confirm.” 

“Yeah,” Gojo is breathless, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

—

The crowd is roaring, alive, moving as one. 

“But it’s Satoru Gojo, redeeming himself this time, driving that Jujutsu to perfection, to pole, for the ninety-fifth time in his career! What a drive, what a lap, and he is proving to everyone here today that he deserves that drive next season, that he’s just as strong as ever!” 

Gojo climbs out of the cockpit, into Parc Ferme, and stands atop his car, holding up his finger. 

“One minute, twenty one point eight seconds, and no one could touch him today, not even his teammate!”

Yeah, he drives best when he’s angry. 

 

—

Transcript from Post-Qualifying Interview with Satoru Gojo, Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021, Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Congrats, Satoru, another pole, how are you feeling?

SATORU GOJO : Yeah, really good. The car performed well, I was in the zone, we’re having a good weekend to finish the season, really. 

Q: Historically, you haven’t been the best at qualifying here, how was today different from the last few years?

SG : New track layout, first of all, which makes it easier to drive, although that applies to everyone. The high downforce setup we have on the car this weekend suits me too, I like the oversteer.

Q: Your teammate qualified in third, will he be allowed to race you tomorrow?

SG : Sure, I think so. We’re on different strategies, though, so we’ll see what happens. 

Q: Are you worried about the threat from Itadori, starting alongside you? And Yuuta in fourth, he can never really be counted out with his race pace. 

SG : [laughs] Sure. He’s on form. The car has less race pace than us this season, though, and much higher tyre deg, so I’d be surprised if I’m still fighting him in lap fifty. As for Yuuta, of course he’ll make up places so I’d be surprised to not see him on the podium tomorrow. 

Q: Always a pleasure. Good luck tomorrow. 

SG : Thanks, Yu.

 

—

 

The race is hard fought. But Satoru starts from pole, and goes onto softs at the end, sets the fastest lap about five times over, and no one else really stood a chance when he was that hungry for it. He stands on the podium, listens to the Italian national anthem for himself, and then the Japanese anthem for Jujutsu Tech, and pours champagne down Yuuta’s back under his race suit. 

The younger boy squeaks, tries to run away, but Gojo holds him in place, laughing as Yuuji joins them - a pleasant surprise that even with the shitty race pace of the Sengoku, that he’d managed to hold onto P3. They pose for the pictures outside the garage, a proud P1 displayed on the boards, and he sprays the remaining champagne all over Shoko. 

Megumi finds his way over to them, and Yuuji talks his ears off about his own win in the grade two championship, finished with a feature race win alongside Gojo. Jujutsu Tech is ecstatic: both their drivers for the upcoming season have finished on a high, and they managed to sign a grade two Champion before he won or could be poached by another team.  

Gojo gets changed, does all the post-race conferences, smiles the whole way through, and then he’s on his private jet back to Monaco a few hours later, with Yuuji, Megumi, Nanami, Haibara, and Utahime in tow. 

And then that’s the end of the 2021 racing season. 

 

—

2000, Japan

Suguru doesn’t see Gojo again after that for almost a whole year. He competes in a couple of weekend races, but there’s nothing particularly special about them. He sees Shoko twice: once at a race, and another time when she and her parents invite their family out to eat. 

It’s a fancy restaurant, and Suguru sits with his hands tucked under his legs the whole time. He looks down at his feet swinging from the chair, and his mom orders for him: the cheapest possible meal on the menu. Hers and dad’s selections are much the same: they don’t want to bother Shoko’s family, they tell him. They need to be polite. 

But they go back to the same karting series in the summer. They park their motorhome next to Shoko’s. Shoko shows Suguru her new kart. Suguru looks over his shoulder at his same kart he bought from Shoko last year sitting in the trailer. 

But Shoko seems excited, so he doesn’t say much about it. 

When they go to walk around the track again, in the evening, Suguru sees Gojo sitting on the grass. He’s picking at the skin on his fingers, head tucked down beneath his knees. Suguru stops, and looks. 

His mom notices first. She turns to his dad, whispers, “is he by himself?” 

Suguru doesn’t wait for his parents to decide if Gojo is by himself, or not. He walks over to the grass, and stands in front of him. When Gojo doesn’t lift his head from his knees, Suguru kicks his foot. 

Gojo looks up. He’s scowling, angry, blue eyes bearing into Suguru with intensity. “What.” 

“Do you want to track walk with us?” Suguru says, standing above him. Gojo’s a boy his age. He can talk to boys his age. He can make friends. They both like racing. They must have more things in common. 

Gojo seems caught off guard by the question. “I’ve already walked the track.” 

Suguru shrugs. He’s about to turn away before Gojo is scrabbling to his feet, wiping blood from between his fingers where he’s been picking at the skin there. “You’re bleeding.” 

“It’s fine.” Gojo says. “I do it all the time. My mom says it’s bad, but I can’t stop.” 

There’s a tooth missing in Gojo’s mouth. His cheeks are flushed. 

“Your mom’s right.” 

They stand in silence. Gojo looks at him. “You’re Getou Suguru. I remember from last year.” 

“You remember me?” 

Gojo nods. Suguru kind of thought that Gojo was an arrogant brat, but maybe-

“Yeah. I beat you last year.” 

Nevermind. “Okay,” Suguru says, and turns away. He can hear his parents calling after him. 

As he walks, he hears footsteps behind him. He turns, and makes eye contact with Gojo again. “Why are you following me?” 

“Because you said we could walk around the track.” 

“You said you’d already walked the track.” 

Gojo blinks at him like it changes anything. “Yeah.” 

Shoko’s mother appears over Suguru’s shoulder, then, all smiley and sweet. Gojo and Suguru both turn to face her. “Are you okay, Satoru?” 

Satoru. Suguru rolls the sound around in his cheeks. It doesn’t feel right. 

“Yes.” Gojo says, suddenly polite. 

“Is your dad here?” 

It’s small, Gojo’s reaction. Suguru blinks, and almost misses it. He watches him shuffle his feet, bringing his hands together in front of his tummy and picking at a finger. “No. My mom and dad are at home.” 

“In Italy?” 

Gojo nods. Suguru frowns. “You’re from Italy? You look Japanese.” 

“I am Japanese!” Gojo says, with fervour, “my mom and dad just live there, ‘cause my dad’s team was there.” 

Right. Gojo’s dad was a Grade One Driver. And Grade One races were mostly in Europe. 

“Now, now.” Shoko’s mom says, not unkindly, “you should come with us, Satoru. We’ll take you back to your motorhome, later, if you want.” 

Gojo flushes under her gaze. “Okay,” 

She turns, still smiling, gesturing for them to follow. Gojo kicks a rock, scowling, and hisses under his breath, “Satoru, Satoru, what does she even want from me?” 

Suguru ignores it. It wasn’t meant for him to hear, he doesn’t think.

They walk the track together in the dying light. Gojo trails behind Suguru and Shoko. He doesn’t say much. 

Shoko is telling Suguru about how to do turn five. It’s a hairpin, and Suguru has been practising those with his dad. He’d stand at the track back home and stand where he needed to brake, except he would stand closer to the turn each time. He was much better at hairpins now than he was last year, but Shoko didn’t know that. 

“Are you going down the middle?” Gojo blurts, from behind them, and Shoko nods, not looking particularly enthused that he’s decided to speak to them, finally, after walking around near enough half the track. 

“Yeah,” 

“You should go round the outside,” Gojo says, gesturing with his hands. He’s decidedly not making eye contact with either of them. “Then you can brake later, and you get the inside line coming out. Plus, the track’s got more grip there, look.” 

Suguru looks around, trying to decipher what Gojo means. If you drive wide at the beginning of the turn, it gives you more room to break, and effectively cut across the corner to get an advantage on the way out. 

Shoko whines, “if you go wide, you lose time!” 

“Not always,” Gojo huffs, crossing his arms across his chest and pointing his chin to the sky. His bottom lip is puffed out. Suguru is still looking mostly at the track. 

“You should listen, Shoko,” her mother says, “he’s more experienced than you,” 

Shoko stomps off to the front of the group. Gojo stays behind, next to Suguru as they start walking again. He follows them around like a lost puppy, all the way back to their motorhomes. 

“Do you want to eat with us, Satoru?” Shoko’s father is speaking now. Gojo sniffs. 

“What are you having?” 

“Barbeque,” 

Gojo seems to contemplate this, and then nods. Suguru looks at his parents. He’d be eaten alive if he didn’t say please like Gojo isn’t. But Gojo is allowed to stay, and chew with his mouth open. 

“So, who’s travelling with you this summer, Satoru?” 

“Louisa.” Gojo says, with his mouth full. “She’s okay.” 

“Just her?” Shoko’s mother prods, gentle. Gojo frowns.

“No, there’s Isabelle, too.” 

“How are they? I must stop by and say hello to them,”

Suguru doesn’t understand why Gojo’s nose scrunches up at the words. Shoko’s mom is being nice. 

“They’re fine.” 

“And your dad? Is he okay?” 

“He’s fine.” 

Gojo is being so rude. 

“Well, if you need anything from us, you let us know, okay?” 

With what Suguru can only describe as a moment of clarity, he realises Gojo doesn’t believe Shoko’s mom. He thinks she’s lying. 

“Yeah, I will.” 

 

—

Suguru ends up taking Gojo’s line through the hairpin. It works. He finishes first in his heat, and second in the feature race. Behind Gojo. 

When Gojo gets out of his kart, in front of Suguru, because of course, he’s behind him at the end, he lifts his visor, and stares. His voice is muffled behind the helmet. “You got better,” 

It’s not just the changes he made in the lap. He’s gotten faster over the last year, better. He’s much further up the pack, actually fighting for a podium instead of being in the midfield. 

“Yeah.” 

Gojo frowns behind his helmet. “Did you race in Europe, too?”

“No.” 

“You should. It would be fun to race you there. The tracks are cooler.” 

Suguru can’t even dream of racing in Europe. He’s lucky just to be here , let alone travelling all the way across the world to do it. 

Still. He smiles under his helmet. “Yeah, it would be,” 

 

—

 

At the second race in the series, a new motorhome is parked next to Shoko’s and Suguru’s. It’s Gojo’s. 

 

—

 

March 2022, Bahrain

 

Some of the warmups they have to do before getting into the car always feel stupid, no matter how long Gojo is in the sport, and no matter how many times he does them. He stretches his jaw in a yawn as he pulls the resistance band over his head again. 

Across the garage, Megumi is standing, looking at data with his engineer, looking incredibly tense. He’s dressed simply, in a team t-shirt and a pair of jeans, since he’s not driving until after lunch. 

This won’t be his first time in a Grade One car, but it’s close enough. Towards the end of last season, Jujutsu Tech put him in the car three times for free practice sessions, during race weekends where he wasn’t replacing Gojo, who really couldn’t care less about having less practice time on track. He’s been doing it for years, he knows the tracks, whatever. Losing a session at a couple races didn’t matter to him, in the grand scheme of things, and the mechanical failures of 2021. 

Also across the garage, panting softly, is Megumi’s service dog Toto. A cute husky, wearing a pretty unmissable red vest with white letters all over it: DO NOT PET. He’s a welcome addition, too, Gojo thinks. Megumi, a couple of times, has complained about his peers not taking the dog seriously, when he and Gojo have been together in simulator sessions back at HQ, but here, everyone seems okay with his presence. 

Megumi only managed to get Toto a couple of years ago, anyway, and Gojo has definitely seen an improvement in his times and his racecraft. Turns out that when you don’t have to worry about your health twenty four hours a day, every day, it takes a weight off your shoulders. And Megumi is definitely lighter, these days. Toto tells him when his blood sugar drops, so he doesn’t have to put needles in his skin to test it four times a day. 

And you can’t travel very easily with a glucose monitor, according to Megumi. Gojo thought that travelling with an animal would be harder, but again, it saves him having to prick his fingers constantly to check. Instead, now, he only has to if Toto alerts him, which is much less often. 

The team have built in sugared juice into a drinks tube for him so he can manage his glucose levels during a race, and once Megumi is in the car, his engineers have a complete overview of all his vitals in the garage anyway. Other drivers have said that it would be a risk to have Megumi on track, but Gojo disagrees. It’s no different to his own photophobia. 

Shoko is beside him, then, sighing deeply. Gojo hums. “You okay?” 

“I’ll be much more okay after this testing session goes well.” She huffs, “cameras everywhere. Vultures, the lot of them.” 

“Standard pre-season weekend, then.” Gojo smiles, “I’ll be fine, Shoko,”

“I’m not worried about you. You’re fast, if you crash you’ll bounce back. I’m worried about Megumi. I’m worried we haven’t got the sim right, and he’ll struggle. This sport is brutal, and he’ll be criticised for not being as good as his dad, or as Yuuji, or- you know, his disability.” 

Gojo stretches his left arm across his chest, and lifts his shoulders up. “He’s quick. And if he isn’t, then-” 

“It’s not the same for rookies as it was when you started.” Shoko holds her hand out to another engineer, gesturing for a pair of headphones. They’re placed into her hands. 

“Have faith in the kid.” 

“Sorry. This whole thing with Getou has me on edge.” 

“Is he in the paddock?” 

“No, he’s still in Italy with the team- of course he’s in the paddock, he’s a principal.” If looks could kill, Shoko’s glare would have rendered Gojo lifeless. 

“Sorry, sorry.”

There’s a pause, and Gojo leans down to press his hands flat to the ground, pressing his nose to his knees to try and stretch out his back. 

“Are you not- bothered by it?” Shoko asks, then. And Gojo stalls.

“If I let it get in my head, I won’t be able to drive. And that’s what I’m here to do.” 

Blinking, Shoko tucks her hair behind her ear. Her hair is so long now, and so much darker than it used to be. “Right,” 

“Don’t.” 

“I’m not.” She turns to look at Gojo properly. “Seriously. I’m not. Go and finish warming up. We have half an hour.” 

Gojo touches his fingers to his race suit, bunched around his hips. He almost fights her on it, but decides to let this particular battle lie. Not now. Not before the few hours they get to drive the car before the first race of the season. 

God, Gojo misses the days before 2009, when testing in the car was pretty much unlimited. He only got one season with unlimited testing, but it was brilliant, being able to actually figure out the limits in between races, and on an actual track. The rules changed because of the financial crisis, and now all they have is simulators. They’ve definitely gotten closer to the actual feeling of driving a car over the years, but they’re still not the real thing.

He slips out the garage, into the gap between them and Sengoku. He starts with skipping, pulling the race suit over his shoulders so it doesn’t fall down his thighs. Then he goes and finds some poor, unfortunate engineer to drop tennis balls into his hands to test his reactions: an old exercise, but a faithful one. 

Fifteen minutes before they start, he stands, skin buzzing, reviewing the data once more. Then there’s Megumi, coming over to look at the data with them. 

“You okay?” 

Megumi nods, and that’s that. Gojo has already imparted all of his best advice to him over the years: he doesn’t need any more now. 

He goes through the motions: balaclava on. Race suit zipped up. Rolls his shoulders to get a feel for the new material. He clambers into the cockpit, watching the engineers buzzing around his car like bees. He shuffles further down into the seat. Like last year, his feet are higher than his hips. With the car turned off, he tentatively presses at the pedals. Getting a feel. 

From within the cockpit, he can’t see much. His view basically consists of his wing mirrors, the tops of his front tyres, and the obstruction of the halo in the centre. Unlike some of the other drivers, he had never really complained about its addition, but sometimes it still feels foreign to him. Drivers like Yuuji and Megumi never really drove without it. 

He sees Yaga leaning above him, and reaches out a hand. Yaga clasps it, smiling. “Good luck,” 

“Don’t need it.” 

And then there’s five minutes to go, and someone passes him his helmet. The squeeze on his head never gets any nicer. Despite all the new technology Grade One has brought in over the last decade, the easiest way to know if it’s safe to enter the pitlane is still someone standing there and holding their hand up, so Gojo flips down his visor and waits. 

The hand is lowered, and his feet press on the throttle, and the engine roars. It’s glorious. 

He turns the steering wheel, veering into the pitlane. He feels the leer of all the cameras around them, taking pictures of the new car, trying to put together some commentary on it, trying to predict the winners. But all of that? It doesn’t matter. 

“Radio check?” Shoko’s voice is in his ears, again, smooth and steady. 

“Checking, check check check check-” 

“Loud and clear, no need to watch for traffic, we’re first out.” 

“Copy,” 

They’re starting on a C3 tyre for a mid-distance run. Then the plan is to box, and add flo-vis to the air ducts, and then go back out on a C5 for a long-distance run. Testing tyre deg, and graining, and airflow over a distance. He keeps slow for the first lap. 

“Tell me what I need to do.” 

“Warm the tyres,” Shoko’s reply comes immediately, like she’s been waiting to say it. “When we come past the chequered flag, mode push.” 

“Copy.” 

“The track is likely to be slippy, please don’t put it into a wall.” 

“Wouldn’t be ideal, would it?” Gojo laughs, already having started to weave around the track. Partly to warm the tyres, and partly to feel for the grip. 

He completes what he supposes is the outlap, and sees the start line ahead of him. Shoko is gently reminding him on the radio: “mode push,” 

“A hundred percent?” 

“Race pace. Sixty five, seventy, five laps,” 

Whatever Shoko wants, she gets. But Gojo’s version of sixty five percent of the pace is different to other drivers. He presses down on the throttle, hitting the breaks for the tight corner at turn one, and keeping it smooth for turns two and three. And then - up to over two hundred miles an hour for the long straight down to turn four. The car responds in a way which can only be described as dream-like, especially in testing. 

“Good oversteer there,” Gojo reports back, “feels good,” 

“Copy,” Shoko says, and Gojo can hear the smile in her voice. It all goes a bit pear-shaped when he breaks just a fraction too late into turn ten, hitting the curb. 

“Slippery,” he says, over the radio, foot already on the throttle, well on his way down the straight to turn eleven. The second speed trap is in between turns twelve and thirteen, and before Gojo knows it, he’s back on the finishing straight, hurtling toward turn one again, past the pitlane. At the end of the five laps, his heart is beating wildly in his chest, because the car feels almost exactly like the sim, with just the right amount of oversteer, the exact way Gojo likes it. 

He watches a Keicho drive past him, looking impressive, and a Sengoku right behind. Both look to be on hot laps, the Keicho giving the Sengoku a tow. Gojo lets out a low whistle at the sight. 

“Box for hards,” Shoko says, over the radio, “good job, though, we’ve got good data from that.” 

“Who’s on track?” 

“Itadori in the Keicho, Zenin in the Meiji, Kento in the Sengoku, and Miwa in the Heian. The rest are in the pits.” 

Gojo hums a confirmation as he pulls into the pitlane. 

 

—

 

The rest of the session is much of the same. They run the C5, C3 and C4 compounds, focusing on longer runs. The softer tyre compounds can wait until the end of the three day period. 

Yaga is waiting for him as he clambers out of the car in the garage. “Good job, you looked great out there.” 

Gojo pulls his helmet off. His balaclava comes with it, and he grins right back at Yaga. “Good car. Shoko’s outdone herself,” 

“You’re on top of the times, so far,” Yaga replies, and Gojo can’t help it: he looks back at the thing of beauty he’d just been driving. All navy and black and gold and smooth lines.

Yaga leads him out of the garage, towards the pit wall, where Shoko is twizzled around, looking back at them with a soft smile. Gojo begins pulling his race suit off from around his shoulders, leaving it to bunch at his waist so he can get some air against his fireproofs. It feels like bliss after spending close to three hours in the car. 

“You got any water?” He says to Yaga, pushing a hand through his hair, trying to tame the spikes. He doubts it works. “The drinks tube was warm, I gave up using it.” 

Yaga is about to reply when he stops, looking straight over Gojo’s shoulder. Gojo frowns, about to ask what’s wrong, turning himself-

“Yo, Satoru.” 

Getou Suguru looks older. His hair is longer. He’s wearing a white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, with a small, embroidered gold logo on the breast pocket. He’s smiling. He still has the same small scar along the left side of his forehead from 2013. It’s fainter, now, than it was then. 

“It’s been a while.” 

 

—

 

Notes:

hi again!! if u got thru that, hi :) please leave a comment, please give me kudos, i will love you forever

EDITED AGAIN AS OF 20/4/24

tracks referenced in this chapter are the Yas Marina Circuit and the Bahrain International Circuit. The links provide a look at the layout for both and stats if you're interested in visualising them along to this fic :)

Chapter 2: ii - lock-up

Summary:

Verb. Locking up, to lock up (in reference to motorsport) - used to describe a driver braking sharply and 'locking' one or more tyres whilst the others continue rotating. Tyre smoke and flat spots are common side effects. Also used as a noun: referring to a lock-up.

Notes:

Happy Shibuya anniversary!

hey so new title. rip old title you'll be missed. content warning for description of a crash and injuries related to racing, as well as some diet talk that isn't entirely healthy. please comment (i will kiss you if you comment and tell me thoughts) i love reading them. i will kiss you ON THE MOUTH if u comment.

(note: my knowledge of karting is incredibly limited, and it's impossible to find info on, don't squint too hard at it, please. thanks. also at the ages of race engineers. i mostly needed names to fill spaces.)

EDIT 2/11/23 - this chapter has been heavily edited, worth a reread :)

enjoy!

2001, Japan

 

In his third full year of karting, Getou moves up an age category. Shoko does as well, and Gojo is in the same category as them, too, when he’s here, and not off in Europe racing all over the place. It’s mostly Italy, Suguru thinks. Apparently he’s popular over there. And in France. And England. 

He knows everyone. He knows all the Grade One drivers, because his dad only retired two years ago and they go to races to see his friends. Which means that when Satoru races in Japan, he always has wild stories to tell. 

Like: 

“In Monaco, there are all these boats, and I saw someone do a flip off one into the water!” 

And:

“We were right in the pitlane in Monza, and they were putting more fuel in the car, and- it splashed, and the car exploded!” 

Shoko gasps, and her eyes widen. She doesn’t get to watch the races, even on TV. “Was the driver okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru says, waving a palm around dismissively, “the car was on fire, though, and it looked so cool.” 

“How was the driver not on fire?” Shoko scrunches her nose.

“He was.” Satoru shrugs, “but they had fire extinguishers, and they splashed water on him.” 

Suguru, had, of course, seen it on TV. The commentators were shocked by it. But seeing it in real life must be different. So he listens to Satoru. 

“I wouldn’t want to catch on fire,” huffing, Shoko leans back into the grass, putting her paper plate down in front of her. They’d just eaten dinner. Suguru’s was soggy and felt weird in his mouth, so he left most of it on his plate. 

“If you race in Grade One, it’s always a risk. It’s dangerous!” 

He says it like it’s something to be proud of. Maybe it is. Suguru knows that even karting is dangerous. Someone broke their leg in a crash one weekend. He’d watched them scream in pain. But he hasn’t crashed badly. 

A crash can be avoided. You can turn out the way. A fuel splash would be completely someone else’s fault. Suguru doesn’t like that. 

But Satoru isn’t afraid of danger. He’d cut someone off in their race today, and they spun onto the grass. If they hadn’t yielded, Satoru would’ve crashed into a barrier.  

But the other driver had yielded. So they’re sat outside their three motorhomes, parked side by side in the grass, as the sun sets. Satoru’s is in the middle. They mostly hang out there, because his parents don’t come to races with him, so they can be loud and messy. It’s also loads bigger than even Shoko’s motorhome. Suguru’s is pretty small. They never hang out in his motorhome.

“I wanna race in Grade One,” Shoko says, indignant, like Satoru had accused her of not wanting it as badly as all of them. Suguru guessed it would be the dream of most kids here with them, though. 

“I’m going to race in Grade One.” Satoru repeats back, with absolute certainty. “And if I catch fire, I’m gonna finish the race anyway.” 

“That’s not how it works, idiot,” Shoko shakes her head at him, “if the car catches fire, you have to retire.” 

Satoru shrugs like he could find a way around it if he wanted to. He probably could. “It would be so cool if we all raced in Grade One. Imagine us on the podium together.” 

Suguru smiles at the thought. All three of them winning races, driving fast cars, jumping off boats in Monaco. “What team would you drive for?” 

“Keicho, obviously!” Sticking her chin out, Shoko looks proud of her decision. “They’re so good,” 

Satoru wrinkles his nose. Over the last couple summers, Suguru has learnt that means he’s thinking, or disgusted. Sometimes both. “That was my dad’s team.” 

“Do you not want to drive for your dad’s team?” Suguru thinks his voice sounds small, unsure all of a sudden. 

“No.” Satoru says, “I don’t."

 

—

 

As a reward for winning a race, Suguru’s father allows him to have a phone. A real one. Satoru doesn’t pay it any mind: he already has a much newer, cooler phone, after all. But they exchange numbers, and his parents make Satoru promise not to text Suguru when he’s in Europe.

Satoru has a single game on his phone: snake. The two of them spend hours playing it in between races. Satoru shows Suguru his pokemon collection, all shiny and new in a folder. 

Over the course of the summer, Suguru convinces him to take out the cards, one by one. They play proper games with them, and Suguru beats Satoru again and again. And again. 

“It’s not fair!” 

“You win all the time and I don’t get mad,” Suguru doesn’t mean pokemon cards. He means racing. Satoru frowns. 

“But that’s different.” 

“How? We still win and lose.” 

“That’s skill! This is luck.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re worse than me at something,” Suguru teases. 

“No I’m not!” Satoru replies, indignant. “You have to get lucky with the cards you get! Otherwise it’s all useless.” 

“You got lucky having a dad who drives in Grade One.” 

It’s meant as half a joke, half a point proven. But Satoru crumples, “my dad has nothing to do with it.” 

Suguru wants to say his dad has everything to do with it. Has everything to do with why Satoru has triple his experience driving, even though they’re the same age. 

“Okay.” 

They go back to playing pokemon. 

 

—

When they’re both on the podium together, Satoru in first, Suguru in second, soaked in not-champagne, Satoru slicks his hair off his forehead and looks at him. His eyes are bright. Have they always been that bright, or is it the summer sun?

“I don’t like racing in Europe.” 

“Europe’s not a country.” Suguru says. He’s been learning about all the different countries at school. 

“I know it isn’t.” Satoru replies. “But you’re not there with me when I win. I want you to be with me on the podium all the time.”

Suguru clutches his second place trophy. He’s doing well, his coaches say. The talent scouts like him. They’re talking about trying to get him in a karting league with a more powerful kart, but they can’t afford it, his dad says. 

But Satoru says it so bluntly. His skin prickles. It must be from the not-champagne. 

“I can’t afford to go to Europe.” 

“You should come with me. We’ll take you. We can watch real races together.” 

Suguru grins at him. It’s a nice dream. 

 

—

March 2022, Bahrain

 

Gojo wants to scream. He wants to lunge for him. He wants to grab the back of his neck and thread his fingers through his hair. He wants to cry and beg like he didn’t back then, to know why Getou felt the need to leave after a decade of knowing him. Longer, probably. They met when they were like, ten. Getou left when they were twenty three. Just before his twenty-fourth birthday. 

None of those reactions, however, would be appropriate for the paddock, let alone the pitlane, so he just scowls. “Here to poach our tactics?” 

Getou laughs, easy and open, like Gojo had just suggested the most ludicrous thing to ever exist. “No, of course not. We can come up with our own strategy. Our own car.” 

“I know. So why are you here.” 

“I can’t visit an old friend?” 

“No. Go back to the Scuderia,” Gojo says, and stalks away to the pitwall, looking at Shoko. She too looks like she’s seen a ghost, swallowing as she looks at Getou. 

“Shoko.” 

“Suguru,” she replies, blinking slowly. The reply is so quiet, that Getou must not hear it over the roar of engines, the whir of the garage. But they’ve known each other so long that they can read each others’ lips. 

Getou nods, and reaches out to clasp Yaga’s hand. “Sorry for the way things ended. I hope we can give you a good fight.” 

“Of course.” Yaga, to his credit, also looks a bit shell shocked, but he’s handling it better than Gojo, it seems. At least from the outside. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Gojo would. Gojo would like Getou back at Jujutsu Tech. But he’s probably the only person in the whole garage who wants that, so he says nothing. 

He might be the only person in all of Grade racing that wants that, too, all things considered. Getou’s departure from racing was explosive, sudden and entirely unpredictable. He’d broken his contract to do it: he almost got sued by Jujutsu Tech for breaking clauses that guaranteed him being a driver for the next two years, at least. After you break a contract once, it spreads throughout the paddock and you’re unlikely to ever get a position back in Grade racing again. 

Except, Getou’s circumstances had been “exceptional”. Whatever the hell that means. Gojo thinks he was just running from a fight. Being a coward. 

He thought, at the time, that it was the common sentiment in the paddock. But it hadn’t been, and honestly, Gojo doesn’t particularly want to find out what the common feeling about it actually was. Either way, it left shockwaves. 

Especially when the reporters hounded him about it for the entire half of the first season without him. And then Gojo had changed his number back to one at the end of the season, to mark his third world championship, and the world had gone a little dull for a while, even with all the race wins and driving an utterly dominant car. 

Sharing podiums with Nanami was never the same, not really.

They crowd into the office, huddled around screens, headphones on, recording every sentence, and Yaga starts the meeting with harsh, biting words. 

“So, I know that some people have been here since Getou was a driver, and you might be familiar with him. I want to make clear that if anyone is caught talking to him beyond small talk, you will lose your job.” 

A ripple of shocked murmurs travel through the room. All eyes go to Gojo, and he leans back in his seat. Of course they’d think this was his prerogative. It isn’t. 

Yaga clears his throat. “Am I understood?” 

When a chorus of yes ’s and yes sir’ s come back at him, he sighs. “And I want everyone to be especially careful with any Keicho team member this year, including the other mechanics and all of the staff they hire.” 

Gojo can’t meet anyone’s eyes. But he knows they’re looking at him. Like this is his fault. Like Getou being their biggest enemy on the field this year is his fault. Like him blowing up and leaving racing altogether for five years or something was his fault.

“What about Yuuji?” Megumi’s voice comes out small. Judging from the look on his face, he has to work hard to keep his voice from shaking. The two of them are close. Everyone in the paddock knows it. Enough that they get pulled together for pressers more often than not, enough that they got filmed together last season at the awards: rookies of the year. 

“Be careful about what you say. But of course, there’s media demand for the two of you together, you are friends, use your best judgement.” 

Gojo rolls his shoulders back in his seat. 

“Now that that’s out the way, let’s get to Gojo’s data, shall we? Before we have to be back on track with Megumi.” 

 

—

 

The first race of the season is Bahrain. Gojo prefers it to starting the season all the way in Melbourne, but it brings its own challenges. One: the triple header that isn’t considered a triple header. 

From the start of preseason testing to the end of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, none of them will go home. Gojo and Megumi would probably have the option to, but the jet lag from going back to Europe for a whole two days would outweigh any comfort they got from doing so. 

But because there’s only two actual races, the higher-ups only consider it a double-header, not a triple. Undermining the amount of work the mechanics do, as usual. 

The drivers’ days, by comparison, are pretty clear. Whilst everyone else in the team works on adjusting the car, all Gojo and Megumi have to do is turn up, look over data, and drive. The simulators are too big to bring with them on the road, so most of their job consists of training, following the meal plans, and doing whatever the media team want them to do. 

But even media and PR can’t take up all their time. So there’s time to explore. 

On one of the first nights, before things get too hectic with development and tyres and god knows what else, Gojo takes Shoko out to dinner. Somewhere nice. It had become a tradition when his paychecks got so ridiculously large and hers stagnated. They talk, and they laugh, and she finishes a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu, and it’s good. Nice. 

She smokes a cigarette outside. Gojo watches. He wishes he could have some, but he’s an athlete. 

“I thought you stopped smoking.” He says anyway, even though he knows the reason she has it perched between her lips. 

“Been stressed lately.” Is all she says in return. 

 

—

 

Gojo sees Getou in the paddock, when he’s there to look over data. He does not wave. He does not look at Getou’s smile, or the way he pats Yuuta on the shoulder encouragingly. 

He doesn’t. 

 

—

Megumi and Gojo, even though they look completely different to one another, are pretty similar in a lot of ways. So Gojo knows, as soon as he walks into the sponsor event, and sees Megumi looking like a wallflower by himself in the corner of the room, that they’re both going to hate this. 

In all fairness, they don’t have to do things like this very often. Jujutsu Tech is known for impressing its sponsors with results, not schmoozing. Gojo likes that about them: the honesty, the straightforwardness of it all. 

But every now and again, the racing federation will organise events like this for all the teams and drivers en mass, for the supporters of the sport. And then, they really have to go, and ignore the temptations of canapes and alcohol that they’re not allowed this close to a race. 

It’s a launch party, of sorts, celebrating the start of the new season. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, gold detailing, and Megumi is dressed the same. Team colours. He wanders over, slinging an arm over Megumi’s shoulder. “How’re you doing?” 

Megumi flushes, and stiffens under him, and it is then that Gojo realises, rather belatedly, that he’s talking to a girl. And then, all Gojo can get out is a “oh,” because she looks almost exactly like Shoko. Just with lighter hair. And younger, obviously. She’s wearing a long dress that stops just below her knees, with a flat neckline. It’s clear she didn’t choose it herself. 

“I’ll get out of your way-” 

“No, stay,” Megumi says, cheeks still a furious red, and Gojo laughs. 

“It’s like that?” He takes a good look at the girl, who is staring at him with mild disgust. 

“No, it’s not like that,” she bites, “why does everyone assume that?” 

Gojo laughs again, because that was Shoko’s exact response whenever a reporter asked if she was dating Getou or Gojo. The last time she got asked it, she’d simply said “they’re too preoccupied tearing each other apart to date anyone.” 

Getou had gotten a few awkward questions after that. 

“Got it.” Gojo says, smiling at her. “You are?” 

“Kugisaki Nobara.” 

Oh. She’s the other rookie for this year. Gojo had heard of her, her fiery temperament, her undeniable talent, even though she was a little more raw than Megumi, and thus got shunted to a much less competitive car. 

She’s also a teammate to a Zenin. So Gojo is a little scared for her. Zenins don’t have a reputation for being the cleanest racers, especially when they feel threatened. But then again, Megumi is technically a Zenin, and so is Mai, and both of them race incredibly cleanly. Probably more so than Gojo. 

“Ah, I’ve heard of you, you’re from a small village in Japan, right?” 

Nobara groans. “I’ve already got a reputation for being some country bumpkin, and I’ve never even said where I’m from in interviews!” 

“He doesn’t watch interviews.” Megumi says, deadpan. He’s right: after the absolute shitshow of 2014, Gojo had resigned himself to not looking at press releases or social media surrounding racing at all. Not that he looked at it much in the first place. It gives him an out when he’s asked awkward questions. 

But he guesses it’s been a double-edged sword as of late: he hadn’t seen anything of the rumours of Getou returning to the paddock. 

Nobara frowns at him. The freckles on her face squeeze closer together as she does. “How do you not see anything? You’re Gojo Satoru,”

Gojo shrugs, “I’m not interested.” 

He isn’t, most of the time. 

Nobara shrugs. “I thought you’d be one of the drivers who like, watches fan-cams of himself, you seem like the type.” 

“Self-centred,” Megumi adds on, nodding solemnly. 

“Hey!” Gojo says, with no heat behind his tone, “I object to that,” 

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Yuuji shuffles over, popping a canape into his mouth. Megumi narrows his eyes at him. 

“Are you allowed that?” 

Yuuji shrugs, “one won’t hurt. Don’t tell Getou. Or Todou.” 

All four of them shudder at the mention of Yuuji’s race engineer. Gojo shudders extra for the mention of Suguru. 

Todou is- he’s intense to say the least. Gojo has only met him a few times in passing, and Yuuji does genuinely like him: enough to poach him from Sengoku and take him in the move to Keicho. Nanami, in turn, had taken Ino from JTR, so Megumi has a new engineer for the season. They have a good relationship, probably one of the best engineer-driver pairings on the grid, along with Gojo and Shoko. It doesn’t change the fact that in Yuuji’s rookie season, Gojo had definitely seen Yuuji running away from Todou on multiple occasions. 

He’s hidden him in the Jujutsu motorhome, once. 

“You’re lucky with your metabolism.” Nobara glares, “I can’t have any of this food.” 

Megumi huffs, gesturing vaguely down at Toto. “Well, I can’t have any either.” 

“Lighten up!” Gojo says, even though he can’t exactly gorge on canapes the way he wants to, either, “it’s only for the season!” 

Nobara groans, loudly, and tries to wiggle out from underneath, “we’re supposed to be acting sophisticated!” 

Yuuji laughs at her from his place under Gojo’s arm. 

“Hello.” 

Turning to the source of the voice, Gojo frowns. Yuuji scrabbles to stand upright, and Gojo swears he can see his hair standing on end slightly. He understands, after a moment, because Getou is the one standing in front of them. His expression is lightly amused, with an arched eyebrow giving absolutely nothing away. 

“Sorry I was eating canapes.” Yuuji blurts out, and Nobara slaps a palm to her head. 

Getou laughs, and Gojo frowns. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “You’re too strict on yourself, Itadori. The eighty kilo rule exists for a reason.” 

Yuuji flushes even brighter red, and doesn’t say anything. Getou looks between the remaining three of them, and nods. “Nobara, Megumi. Gojo.” 

Megumi bows his head in a show of respect. Nobara just looks quizzically between them.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting in my driver’s head,” Getou says. 

Gojo splutters. “ Your driver?” He’s known Yuuji way longer! He’s been coaching him since he was in Grade Three! 

“Yes, my driver.” He’s completely impassive, not reacting. “Yuuji, I have a sponsor that wants to meet you. It seems his daughter is quite the fan.” 

“Oh, okay!” Yuuji perks up at that. He likes meeting kids. It’s easier, meeting kids, than it is meeting adults. “I’ll see you later,” 

And with that, Getou is walking away, his hand on Yuuji’s shoulder as the younger chats animatedly over him. 

“What the fuck.” Nobara blurts, “what was that? That was so tense.” 

It suddenly occurs to Gojo that Nobara might be one of the only drivers on the grid that doesn’t know their history. Whatever. Someone else can tell her. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He says, and stalks past where Getou is standing next to Yuuta and Yuuji, looking on as the latter crouches in front of a small child. 

Gojo isn’t proud of what he does next, but it feels like a necessary evil. On his way past, he shoves into Getou’s shoulder, sending him stumbling half a step forward. He doesn’t look back to gauge his reaction. 

 

—

 

Transcript from Thursday Press Conference One, Bahrain Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR:

 

Q (JULES BROOK - Grade Racing Journal): Question for all the drivers, please, what are your thoughts on how the new regulation cars drive so far?

SATORU GOJO : Ah, well. We’re not doing too badly with the bouncing, but it’s definitely a big change. 

YUUTA OKKOTSU : I’m mostly in agreement with Satoru. The bouncing isn’t a massive issue for me, since I’m not particularly sensitive to the porpoising or the bottoming on the kerbs, but there’s a lot of drivers who are struggling.

MAI ZENIN : It’s definitely something that the team is struggling with. My back isn’t keen on it, either, I’m already sore. 

KASUMI MIWA : Uh- if I may- it’s definitely tough on us as drivers, particularly in teams where we haven’t figured out the correct ride height yet. I’m definitely struggling.

Q (GRACE MACK - AEROSPORT WEEKLY): Question for Gojo and Okkotsu: Satoru, you’re competing for your seventh, record breaking world championship, Yuuta, you’re going for your second consecutive title. You’re definitely the two favourites going into this season, and the cars are very close on times on all tyre compounds - at the moment, the rest of the pack isn’t particularly close at all. Who do you think has the better chances this season? Who has the better car? 

SG : You first.

YO : Uh- it’s tough to say who has the better car or chances this early in the season, particularly before the first race. Gojo is a formidable opponent, and with some better luck last season, he would’ve been a lot closer to me in the points. 

SG : Well, it’s me. I have better chances. I can’t comment on the car, yet, though, and I think that we shouldn’t be leaving Yuuji out of these discussions. He’s going to challenge us both, I think.  

Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport):  Sort of a follow-up, then, for Gojo, the last time, and only time, you lost a title fight, it was against Suguru Getou, who is now managing Okkotsu for 2022. Are you feeling threatened by his presence amongst your rivals as you try to win a seventh championship? 

SG : Well, first of all, I have been beaten in a title fight, by Yuki, so I’m not sure where you’re getting that information. Getou is not the only driver to beat me. 

Q: Forgive me for carrying on, but 2011, you were in what was considered a wildly inferior car compared to Yuki, and still only lost in the last race. In a full season title fight, only Getou has managed to come out on top, and he’s the only driver to ever beat you in equal machinery. Kento couldn’t come close to you as a teammate in his tenure. So?

SG : Ha. When you put it like that- no. I don’t feel threatened by his presence in Keicho. We will do what we need to do to win, and I am not spending my time thinking about a long-gone rivalry from nearly a decade ago. 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - G1 Daily): Okkotsu, do you feel Suguru Getou has made a difference to the team, and is he the key to winning a historic championship with Keicho?

YO : Absolutely. He’s the answer to taking down Gojo in a championship fight, because he knows what makes him tick. 

 

—

 

Gojo lowers himself into the cockpit for qualifying on Friday, and sighs deeply. He stretches out his fingers underneath his gloves. He hears Shoko in his ears, replies down the mic for radio check. He takes a sip of his water then ignores it because it’s lukewarm, and tastes like a swamp. He feels for Megumi, who will probably have to use his drinks tube regardless of whether he likes it or not. 

“Projected knockout 1:32:5,” 

Gojo drives. 

“P4, P4, Megumi P8,” 

Gojo comes into the pits. Waits. Drives again.

“Improvement, you’re on a 1:30:7, P3,” Shoko says. “You need to find time in sector two.” 

“What turns?” 

“Nine and ten,” 

“Are we going again?” 

“No, box and pit confirm, we’re well above the projected knockout,” 

Gojo drives. 

“Right, new softs going on, P1 is currently Itadori with a 1:30:7. He’ll be behind you, careful not to give him a tow.” 

“Yuuta?” 

“P2, 1:30:8,” 

Gojo drives. He crosses the finish line for the last time in the session. 

“Provisional pole, you’re on 1:30:5,” 

“Where’s Yuuji?” 

“Crossing the line about now- he’s P2, by a thousandth,” 

“What’s the full lineup?” Gojo asks, breathless, because having a Keicho one thousandth behind you is not the ideal gap to have. He’d like to have a tenth in hand, at least. 

“You, pole, Itadori, P2, Nanami P3, Okkotsu, P4, Utahime P5, Megumi is P6.” 

“How far is Megumi behind?” 

“Six tenths. Four hundredths separate the top four.” 

“Gonna be a fun race tomorrow,” Gojo says, as he pulls into the pitlane. 

Shoko laughs down the receiver, “yeah, for you. I’m going to be chain smoking on the pitwall.” 

 

—

The gap between Gojo and Yuuji, for the entire race, is far too fucking close for Gojo’s liking. He thanks the stars when his opponent is subjected to a slow pit stop, whilst his own team changes his tyres in two seconds flat. 

It puts a few vital seconds between them, enough for him to be able to manage a power issue that rears its ugly head in the last five laps and still cross the finish line in first. 

Yuuta makes up a place against Nanami to finish in third. Megumi, with enough of a gap between him and the drivers behind, puts on softs to set the fastest lap: an extra point for the team, and a respectable P6 finish: pretty damn good for a rookie. 

He feels like he’s floating above the car when he steps out. It never changes: winning. This is something like the eightieth time he’s won (it might be closer to ninety, now) and it still makes his heart stop in his chest and brings a grin to his face. He raises his hand up to the sky, and twists his middle finger in front of his index, and roars into his helmet with the crowd. 

Then he’s sprinting to the barriers, jumping into his team, throwing himself at the mechanics. There are hands everywhere, all over his back, banging on his helmet and grasping at his hands. Then he gets to Shoko, who grabs both sides of his helmet and flips his visor up. Her expression is still serious as she looks at him. “It’s ours. It’s ours.” 

Gojo nods, smiling under his helmet, and turns around to see Yuuji clambering out of his car into Parc Ferme, stumbling slightly as he hits the ground. Gojo steps toward him, clasps their hands together and pulls him into a hug, messy and uncoordinated. 

He shouts, pulling Yuuji’s visor up, “tell your team thanks for the slow pitstop!” 

“Fuck you!” Yuuji’s eyes crinkle where he can see them, and he’s laughing. Yuuji runs off to his team, jumping on top of them, and Yuuta nods as he saunters past, ever the cool customer. 

Gojo pulls his helmet off, and his balaclava, and it is only then he looks. 

Getou is on the barriers. Gojo doesn’t know why he wouldn’t be: the team principals come to parc ferme and celebrate equally with the teams. But he’s here, and he’s shaking Yuuji’s shoulders, smiling at him like he’s just won instead of coming home P2 behind their biggest rival. He shakes Yuuta’s hand, patting him on his shoulders, and Gojo- 

He stares for a moment. Helmet in hand, chest still heaving from the effort of driving and running and screaming in delight. Because it wasn’t like that when he won. Getou didn’t- he didn’t do this. He didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t share in the reactions. Not at the end. Maybe when they were younger, driving for different teams, but not- not at the end. 

But he’s decided to grow up into someone Gojo needed back when they were in their twenties and winning world championships. Without him. Why couldn’t it be with him?

He looks away, and follows the steward to be weighed. 

 

—

 

Yuuji looks at him funny on the podium. If Gojo squints, he can see lines of worry in Yuuta’s face, too, but he ignores it, raising a triumphant fist to the sky as he takes his rightful place on the top step. Yuuta gets him back for the podium in Abu Dhabi, and pours champagne straight down Gojo’s back. Yuuji slams his bottle down on the podium, and it sprays straight up the walls, painting them white for a moment as he tilts his head away and sprays Gojo straight in the face. 

When Gojo looks down, he does not see Getou’s smile as he wipes champagne from his eyes. He doesn’t. 

Because it’s not meant for him. It’s for the boys on the podium next to him. 

He wishes it was for him. 

 

—

 

October 2001, Japan

 

After the karting series is over, Satoru uses his fancy phone to text Suguru and ask if they (him and Shoko) want to come with him to see the Grade One Japanese Grand Prix with him. 

At first, his parents say no. They say the tickets are too expensive, and it’s sold out, and it’s ages away, on the other side of the country, at Suzuka. 

Getou tells Gojo he can’t come, and Gojo texts him back, and tells him that he’s really sad and really wants him to come, and that they can pick him up. 

That seems to sway his dad. His mom is less convinced, but her opinion doesn’t matter when it comes to most things racing. So he goes. 

Suguru and his dad were expecting a car. What they were not expecting was a helicopter. But still, his dad waves him goodbye and tells him to be safe. 

“Hi!” Satoru waves from inside, grinning wildly. His canine teeth have started growing in his gums, and his smile is lopsided because of it. 

“Hello,” Suguru says, trying to be more polite because Satoru’s dad is there. He’s older than Suguru’s dad, and he has dark hair, dark eyes. Getou isn’t quite sure where Gojo gets his looks from. Maybe it’s his mom. 

Gojo’s dad doesn’t look at them. He is speaking on the phone their whole ride there, in English. Suguru doesn’t understand English. They land, on the helipad near the track. They’re immediately met with smiles and hellos and bows. Suguru feels like an alien. 

Satoru drags Suguru by the hand, pulling him towards the gates into the paddock. There’s security guards everywhere. Suguru suddenly feels the need to make himself as small as possible. He shouldn’t be here. Everyone is staring at him. 

But Satoru waves up at the security guard, and doesn’t drop Suguru’s hand. “Can we go in now?” 

The security guard frowns at Suguru, and winces, “where’s your dad?” 

“He’s slow.” 

Guard winces again. “I could let you in…” 

“He’s my friend, Suguru.” Satoru says, like it’s easy. Like he’s always going to get things to go his way. 

The guard is saved by the bell, then, because Gojo’s dad saunters up behind them, still typing something on his phone. Shoko and her parents are walking near to him, Shoko’s mother talking sweetly to Satoru’s dad, and she’s speaking English, too, he realises. Everyone is speaking English today. 

Gojo (senior) leans down and passes a lanyard and wristbands to Satoru, and says something in English to him. Satoru nods, and grabs at Suguru’s wrists to put a wristband on his left hand. “They’re so they know to let us in.” 

Suguru nods dumbly. He notices Shoko already has one, but it’s a different colour. 

As soon as the wristband is tied onto his hand, Satoru starts dragging them past security, his hand still looped around Suguru’s wrist as they run through the paddock. Shoko is running after them, and the only way Suguru can tell is because he can hear her giggling behind them. 

He wants to tell Satoru to slow down, because he’s never seen any of this stuff before. But no one seems to stop them, and they keep moving until Gojo seemingly finds what he’s looking for. He drags him up a flight of stairs, past more security, and suddenly, they’re in a huge, airy space that feels- 

It feels golden. 

They walk through the room. Everyone is dressed so smartly. They’re not looking at any of the screens, showing footage of the garage. They’re all talking to each other, eating, and laughing. 

Suguru feels lost. So he just follows Satoru. Shoko trails behind them both, smiling in her sundress. 

“Ah- Gojo,” 

Satoru stops in front of him, and Suguru looks up and baulks, because standing right in front of them, in a polo and sunglasses and with his hair neat, is Yaga Masamichi. Two-time world champion, Yaga Masamichi. Ex-Sengoku driver Yaga Masamichi. Who is referring to Satoru by name. 

“Yaga!” Satoru says, and then turns around and looks at Suguru, “this is Yaga, he’s my dad’s friend.” 

As if Suguru doesn’t already know exactly who he is! 

“Hi,” he stutters out. 

Yaga smiles warmly, despite Suguru looking like an idiot. Despite him feeling like an idiot, here in his best shorts and a Keicho team polo and a cap. 

“You must be Getou,” Yaga says, and ohmygodheknowsmyname - “I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Suguru blinks. He is dreaming. There is no way he isn’t dreaming right now. “Really?” 

“Of course,” he says, with a booming laugh that carries easily, “you’re a natural in karts, so I’ve heard,” 

“Can you sign my cap?” 

Yaga laughs again and plucks it off his head, signing the top of it and writing something on the bottom. He pushes it back down onto Suguru’s head, pushing his hair all in different directions. 

When Suguru looks back at Satoru, he is frowning. Suguru immediately wilts. 

“Come on, let’s go see the pitlane!” Satoru says, pulling him away from Yaga rather abruptly. They push their way out to the balcony. They both have to stand on their tiptoes to see the action below them, the people milling about around the garages. Suguru recognises the red of Haien, the deep navy of Keicho and the stunning red of Meiji. He’s here, at Suzuka, watching with what his dad calls the best seats in the house. 

He touches his cap. Satoru frowns beside him. “Why’d you have to be weird?” 

“Weird?” 

“With the cap. Yaga’s my dad’s friend. He doesn’t wanna sign stuff when he’s here.” 

Suguru stalls. “I watched him on the TV. He’s a world champion,” 

“I know he’s a world champion, he won against my dad.” 

“Do you not like him because he beat your dad?” 

“No, he deserved to be beaten that year. He was driving badly.” 

“So, what’s the problem?” 

“You’re supposed to be my friend. You’re supposed to be cool, not like- some fan.” 

Suguru swallows the lump rapidly forming in his throat. He hadn’t meant to be embarrassing. He just wanted his cap signed. This is probably the only time he’s ever going to get to watch a race, or meet his favourite drivers, or have anything to do with Grade One at all. He wants to soak it in like a sponge. 

“Do you not have anything signed?” 

“Why would I have anything signed? It’s driving. I can drive. One day I’ll drive better than them.” 

Because the drivers are his dad’s friends. There isn’t a world where Satoru doesn’t make it into Grade One. It’s all laid out for him. Suguru stands, feeling stupid, but Shoko catches up then, and she’s pointing at the Meiji garage, because they’ve started moving. Satoru looks over the barriers with stars in his eyes, pointing at people that he knows- that his dad knows- it’s all the same. 

When he turns over the cap in his hands, he sees Yaga’s message. 

Good luck in karting, kid. If Gojo likes you, I’m sure you’ll go far. 

 

—

 

They see Yaga again, and Suguru tries really hard to be normal, this time. Yaga talks about the cars, and Suguru soaks up every word about understeer being slow, his preferred way to take a certain corner, or the way he can finally eat what he wants now, he’s out of racing. 

Satoru talks back, sometimes. He knows a lot about the cars, too. Probably from his dad, spending so much time in the garage, or mechanics. 

Gojo’s dad doesn’t spend a lot of time with them. He’s absent, or when he is there, he’s speaking in other languages down the phone: English, French, Italian. Suguru originally doesn’t recognise the French, but Satoru tells him that his dad is fluent. 

 

—

 

After they’ve watched qualifying, Gojo Senior (Suguru still doesn’t know his first name) and Yaga and Shoko’s family all sit down for dinner together. For most of it, Shoko’s mom and Yaga and Gojo (Senior) all speak in English. Suguru feels stupid, for not being able to understand it. 

He asks Satoru later, in the dark quiet of their hotel room, what they were saying. Satoru speaks English, you see. He’s fluent in it. His accent is smooth and has barely any hints of Japanese at all. 

“Yaga’s gonna have a job at Keicho next season, as an engineer, or a strategist, I don’t remember,” Satoru says, “but he’s only doing it for a bit, because he wants to make his own team.” 

“Oh, that’s cool,” Suguru says. He’s not sure how someone goes about making a Grade One team. There are ten teams, and that’s it, he thinks. That’s the lot. 

“Yeah. I’m gonna drive for his team.” Satoru is so confident, is the thing. Like, it’s not a possibility. It’s a certainty. 

“What if the car isn’t fast?” 

Satoru shrugs. “It will be fast. I’ll make it fast.” 

There’s silence. It stretches forever. Getou kind of wishes Shoko were there with them to fill it. 

“You should drive for Yaga’s team, too. Then we can be in Grade One together.” 

Satoru called him embarrassing. He told him he couldn’t be a fan. He told him the signed cap was stupid. 

Satoru wants to drive with him in Grade One. He thinks he’s good enough to drive in Grade One. 

“Yaga doesn’t like me.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you said, he doesn’t like signing stuff.” 

“He likes you.” There’s that certain tone again. Like Satoru knows all. 

Maybe he does. 

He thinks back to the message in the cap. 

—

 

March 2022, Bahrain

 

Gojo is sticky from champagne, exhausted from the interviews, the photos, the running and spraying the mechanics in the pitlane. 

He wants to go to his drivers’ room, strip off all his clothes, put on new ones, and go back to his hotel. Some of the younger drivers are going out, he thinks. He heard Yuuji mention it to Megumi, and there’s some engineers going too. Todou will definitely try to wingman Yuuji to pick up some poor girl after a podium finish. As a prize, whatever the fuck that means. 

The corridor is empty, so Gojo pulls the fireproofs away from his stomach, trying to get some air to his skin. He groans, rounds the corner- and- 

Finds himself face to face with Getou Suguru. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He immediately pulls his fireproofs back over his stomach, protective, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Can I not say congratulations?” Getou sighs, a smile light on his face. It doesn’t land, his attempt at humour. Whatever the fuck it is. Why is he in the Jujutsu motorhome? How is he in the Jujutsu motorhome? He should call security. Maybe the police. What’s the fine for being a creepy stalker?

“Say congratulations in parc ferme, like everyone else!” Gojo grates out, “you had the opportunity to.” 

“You weren’t looking at me, Satoru,” 

The way it rolls off his tongue after so many years, Jesus fucking Christ . Maybe this conversation will end differently. With one of them against a wall. Hopefully it’s Getou, so Gojo can take his hands to his neck and squeeze him until he pops. 

Okay, get a grip.  

He doesn’t remember it eating him from the inside out when they were teammates. Not like this. He was mostly happy with what he had, though. His best friend as a teammate, two world championships, the whole world in front of him. 

The whole world is behind him now. All the fans, the other drivers on the grid, his team. It feels hollow. Like getting a purple sector and knowing that on its own, it won’t be enough. That you have to find more, more, and push to the limit until it hurts. 

“Of course I wasn’t looking at you. Do you remember how you left- how you left the team?” How you left me?

It’s unspoken, of course. That the greatest betrayal of Getou leaving Jujutsu Tech was his abandonment of Gojo. No one ever says it. Because everyone was pretty angry and sad when it happened, and there really wasn’t room for Gojo to act out when suddenly there was a new teammate, one who didn’t want to outrace him, and a new world championship to win. 

But Gojo knew before Yaga did. Gojo wasn’t surprised, when he left. It still hurt like a motherfucker, though, like having your heart ripped out of your chest with claws and teeth. And then when they realise you’re still breathing, shallow and panicked, they go for the lungs too. 

“I wasn’t doing well.” 

“I know you weren’t, but this team has a million fucking psychologists, and and nutritionists and performance coaches and they could have all fixed you if you just let them instead of running away like a coward,” 

It’s all said in one breath, punched out of Gojo’s lungs. He’s been waiting to say it for a long time, wishing there was an outlet, wishing Getou would hear him. 

He expects Getou to get angry about that, like he did the first time he said it, even though the first time, Gojo had said it meaner, with less words. Something like, fuck you you’re a coward just because you’re slower than me in the same car, why are you running away from me. 

Getou doesn’t get angry. He just shrugs. “Sure, if you say so. Are we going to argue in the corridor, or will you let me in?” 

“We’re going to argue in the corridor, actually,” Gojo huffs, “because you went radio silent on all of us, then turn up like you didn’t hate the paddock, and Grade One, and everything about it, leading a team. And expect us to just- take it. It’s fucking- you’re embarrassing.” 

“I’m sorry for the way I left.” Getou says then, and Gojo’s heart stops in his chest. SOS, save our souls, Getou Suguru is capable of throwing up an apology. 

“Why did you do it then?”

“I needed to.” 

Gojo doesn’t know what to say to that, apart from something pathetic, like, I needed you, too. I needed you, I was in love with you and it was really fucking obvious to everyone, and I think you knew. And you stomped all over my heart like it was something replaceable.

To be fair, maybe Gojo’s heart had been replaceable. With coke, or models who he didn’t even sleep with, or another world championship. 

He doesn’t say any of this, though. He swallows, instead, and coughs, anger giving way to awkwardness. “Right, well. Can I just- can I go and get changed?” 

Getou pushes his tongue into the side of his cheek. A habit, displayed when he’s unsure. He’s done it since they were kids. He’s done it since they were kids. He’s done it since they were-

Getou shrugs. “Sure. But you need to stop looking at me like a kicked puppy in the paddock. People talk, and you’re really obvious.” 

He watches Getou walk away from him, and picks at a scab on his knuckle. He definitely knew. 

 

—

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ONE - TOP TEN

POS	NAME	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	26
2	Yuuji ITADORI	Scuderia Keicho	18
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU	Scuderia Keicho	15
4	Nanami KENTO	Sengoku	12
5	Mai ZENIN	Meiji	10
6	Megumi FUSHIGURO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	8
7	Iori UTAHIME	Kyoto G1 Team	6
8	Mei MEI	Haein	4
9	Nobara KUGISAKI	Meiji	2
10	Miwa KASUMI	Haein	1

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS' CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ONE 

 

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing	34
2	Scuderia Keicho	33
3	Sengoku Racing	12
4	Meiji	11
5	Kyoto G1 Team	6
6	Haein	5

—

March 2022, Saudi Arabia 

 

The Jeddah Corniche Circuit was only introduced to Grade One racing last year, in 2021. For everyone, even the experienced racers on track like Mei Mei, Utahime and Gojo, it’s still new. Maybe that gives the rookies an upper hand: less experience to defend against, and less knowledge to catch up on. It makes Gojo excited on Megumi’s behalf, because he had a strong first race at Bahrain, and now he can capitalise on it further at a track where the upper half of the field have only one more year of experience than he does. 

Racing at new(er) circuits doesn’t make Gojo nervous. But nothing makes him nervous, so he guesses he’s a special case. Not even his worst crashes have made him anxious about getting back in the car. The most annoying thing after crashing is everyone crowding, coddling, trying to make it okay. Getou was the same way, when they raced together. He hated people checking up on him. 

So, when Yuuji has a rear suspension failure in free practice one, and goes headlong into the barriers on the exit of turn twelve, Gojo isn’t immediately scared. Not like he was when he saw the crumpled mess of Haibara’s car in 2014. But that was- it was different. Crashes were different, after what happened in 2013, and before the halo was introduced as a permanent feature in 2018. Even Gojo would be tense on the radio, waiting to hear if a driver was okay. 

But Getou always took them worse. Which was understandable, given some of the crashes he’d been involved in, over the years. 

The session is red-flagged. And Gojo climbs out of the cockpit in the garage, where he was already, because they’d bought him in to change tyres. If he was out on track, maybe he’d have slowed by Yuuji, tried to catch a glimpse and see he was okay. 

Here’s the thing about racing: when a crash is bad, the world stands still. You can tell if something is more than the average slam into the barriers or driver error. Everyone holds their breath. 

Satoru, are you okay? Satoru.

So when Gojo pulls up his visor and sees Shoko, hand over her mouth standing at the mouth of the garage, he allows himself to get nervous on Yuuji’s behalf. Because this is a bad crash. 

Satoru. Gojo, are you okay? Respond, please.

He pulls his helmet off. There was only twenty minutes remaining, this session, and with the carnage on track, it doesn’t look like it’ll resume again. 

“Is he out of the car?” 

Shoko shakes her head. They both turn to look at the Keicho garage, next to them. Yuuta’s car is pulling in, but Getou is rushing out to the pitwall, headphones on, speaking in rapid English down the microphone. 

Gojo, please respond, turn off the engine, Gojo. 

There’s no footage on the screens, yet. But Getou is on the pitwall, and his shoulders are tense, and he’s grinding his teeth, Gojo can tell, he can hear it from here- 

“Shit,” Shoko swears, and looks at Gojo, “they’re saying no response on the radio. Medical car and ambulance being sent out.” 

It’s not really conscious, the decision to go to Getou. He doesn’t truly decide to start moving towards the Keicho garage, he just goes, dropping his helmet on the top of his car. When the staff members see him approaching, they just gawk with wide eyes, or don’t acknowledge him at all. 

Finally, they can see the screens. The broken off wheels of Yuuji’s car, the way it’s folded in on itself. The amount of debris on track. 

Gojo places his hand on the centre of Getou’s shoulder blades. He doesn’t ask if he’s okay: the answer to that is pretty clear. Getou looks at him, growls out, “why are you here.” 

“Red flags.” 

“I know that,” 

“Do you want me to go?” 

Getou shakes his head, then twists his mouth in discomfort at something being said down the radio. Then he pulls the microphone away from his mouth, “at the second race. Jesus.”

“He’ll be fine. Might be a microphone issue.” 

“I’d like it if he got out of the car, if he has a microphone issue.” 

Gojo knows his words are false promises. The microphone cutting out is very rare, all things considered, and coupled with the fact no one has seen any movement from Yuuji, it’s a less likely option than- than something worse. 

Both of them turn at the sound of frantic footsteps approaching them. It’s Megumi, still holding his helmet, pulling off his balaclava, his entire face crumpled in on itself with worry. 

This is Yuuji’s first big crash. And Megumi had probably seen the debris in person. 

“Is he out? Is he okay?” 

“No.” Getou says, refusing to look at Megumi altogether. Gojo stretches out an arm, and Megumi goes to him. He’s shaking, Gojo realises, and he suddenly remembers all at once how close the two of them are. They grew up karting together, like Gojo and Getou did. This must be hell for him. 

Suddenly, there’s a burst of applause. They drag Yuuji out of the car, and while he doesn’t look good, he’s conscious, able to walk with some assistance, and in good enough spirits to lift his visor and gesture a vague thumbs up. 

Getou breathes out beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose, “thank God,” 

Gojo squeezes at his arm, and then drops it back to his own side. Megumi deflates beside him, too, and sighs. 

“I need to go back and get Toto,” he whispers, “I feel really faint,” 

Gojo lets him go, watching his tentative steps back towards the Jujutsu garage. He stays standing with Getou, who is still blinking, recovering. 

“Right. Well, I’m going to the hospital.” Getou says, curt and polite and professional. Gojo wants to see him angry, or to see him cry, or something about this. It was his driver, his car. 

“Are you not going to sort out the team, first?”

“Yes, of course I am, but I have to be there when he’s admitted, Satoru. He has no family to be there for him.” 

“I’ll go.” Satoru blurts, and it’s really so stupid. He shouldn’t. Yuuji isn’t his teammate. He’s a grid friend who he mentors, sometimes. 

Getou narrows his eyes at him. So Gojo elaborates, “so he’s not alone. You can catch up. But I know I’d really like to gut whatever mechanic was responsible for that failure, and I’m sure you would too, so.” 

Getou sighs, and pulls the headphones onto his neck. “You hate me.” 

“Yeah, I do. But I’m asking to do this for you.” 

 

—

 

Gojo does end up getting there quickly enough to see Yuuji admitted. Nothing serious, they say. He’s lucky, they say. Winded, and bruised ribs, and possibly a mild concussion. Clear to leave, and to be kept an eye on. He can race, they say. 

Nanami comes a little later, as an ex-teammate, and a friend to both of them, and Getou, true to his word, arrives a little after. Nanami and Gojo stand back as Getou nods along with the doctors. 

“Say what you want about his racing career, but he is already an astounding team principal,” Nanami murmurs, and Gojo nods. Doesn’t say anything back. 

Yuuji walks out of the hospital on his own two feet, laughing and cracking jokes. When he sidles up to Gojo, he looks uncharacteristically serious. “Getou said Megumi was freaking out. Is he- is he okay?” 

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’ll probably be out in the car soon for free practice two.” 

“Shouldn’t you be out there, too?” 

Gojo shrugs, and looks at his watch, “there’s still two hours left ‘til it starts. Me and Nanami will head back. Are you going to your hotel?” 

Yuuji nods guiltily. “I can’t do anything else, can I? Since I wrecked the car.” 

“It was a failure. Not your fault. Just unlucky that it happened at high speed.” 

Yuuji still chews on his lip, picking at a hangnail on his index finger. 

They split at the doors, calling Yuuji a taxi back to the hotel, and Nanami gets into his own car, speeding away back to the track. It only has the one extra seat, and it’s already got his bag and a load of other stuff strewn across it, so Gojo and Getou stand, rather awkwardly, waiting for a taxi. 

“You didn’t have to come today.” 

“Yeah, I know,” 

“Why did you?” 

Gojo sighs. He considers lying. Decides against it. “You hate crashes. This is- it’s horrible, when you’re responsible. For a kid, out there. He’s the same age as the rookies this year, y’know?” 

Amanai Riko was in her second season. Haibara was in his first. 

“There was a similar issue on Yuuta’s rear suspension. We got it just in time, before it failed. No one checked.” Getou says, and Gojo knows he’s trusting him not to spill Keicho secrets right back to Jujutsu Tech. “It could have killed both of our drivers.” 

“It didn’t, though.” 

Getou smiles, soft. For the first time, it reaches his eyes. “Yeah, it didn’t.” 

“The real stress now will be trying to get that car put back together in time for tomorrow,” Gojo laughs, and Getou crumples. “Remember in 2012, when I wrecked the car in Q3, and the team hated my guts for the next month and a half?”

“Don’t remind me. Everyone’s going to be working overtime for the next forty-eight hours.” 

“Great way to start your war with the cost cap, by paying out a bunch of overtime hours,” 

“As if Jujutsu Tech didn’t go over it last year,” Getou huffs, and then stills. “Thank you.” 

Gojo isn’t sure what Getou is thanking him for, but he’ll take it. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou, Grade 1 TV, Pre-Qualifying Saudi Arabia Grand Prix 2022 

 

YU HAIBARA : Hi, Suguru, good to see you again, and good to see Itadori lining up for qualifying today. How much of a challenge was it to turn the car around in time. 

SUGURU GETOU : A huge challenge, but the mechanics and engineers pulled through in a big way. The team is working incredibly well together right now.

YH : What about the rear suspension issue that caused Yuuji’s crash? Has that been identified and fixed?

SG : Yes. It’s been fixed. 

YH : How is Yuuji doing?

SG : As strong as ever. He’s a resilient kid, and he’s excited to get back in the car and show what he can do. [laughs] I’ve not met anyone like him for a long time. 

YH : It’s good to hear, after a crash like that, that he’s doing well. 

[pause]

SG : Safety in the sport has come a long way. 

YH : [laughs] Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. What is the strategy for qualifying?

SG : Yuuta is the one pushing today. For Yuuji, the aim is to get into Q3 and secure a top ten start for the Grand Prix. He is still recovering and we don’t risk our drivers.

YH : Of course, the competition is with Jujutsu Tech, who are equal on points with you in the constructors going into this weekend. Gojo topped all three free practices, and his teammate was in P3 after free practice three, which is a marked improvement from last week’s results. Are you worried about them?

SG : Of course, Satoru especially is quick, and Megumi is an immensely talented rookie. But we’re playing the long game, and both Yuuta and Yuuji are incredibly talented drivers, and we signed them as a duo for a reason. 

YH : You have to go, of course, but thank you so much for talking to us. 

SG : No problem. Good to see you.

 

—

 

Qualifying goes pear-shaped. A series of unfortunate events mean that Gojo qualifies P7, behind his rookie teammate, who starts in P3. Yuuta clinches a pole, and Yuuji is starting in P4, which means Gojo has a hell of a job tomorrow, if he wants another win. Or another podium. 

Shoko had been discussing alternate strategies with Yaga and the other strategists. A start on softs isn’t viable, especially since they have no new softs left. But starting on the hards is completely off the table too, and Gojo doesn’t fancy trying to make up ground on old hards in the final laps of the race. 

So: they decide on a two-stopper for Gojo: medium, hard, medium. The first set of mediums have been used for five laps, the second set is brand new. 

Megumi is also put on the infinitely less risky one stop strategy, starting on the soft to get away well, before moving to the hard to finish the race. 

But Gojo trusts his pit crew. So. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2022

 

LAP 2 :

 

IERI: Good pace, we are now P5, P5. Car ahead is Megumi. 

GOJO: Easy places. We’ve got the actual battle now. 

 

LAP 12 : 

 

KAMO: Megumi, we need to let Gojo pass this lap, let Gojo pass this lap. His pace is quicker. 

FUSHIGURO: Yeah, copy. 

 

LAP 17 : 

 

IERI: Gojo, safety car this lap, Kasumi is in the wall. 

GOJO: Box now? Box now? 

IERI: Copy. Box and pit confirm. 

GOJO: That was perfect timing, well done Miwa. 

 

LAP 25: 

 

KENTO: Who is the car behind, please? They’re gaining. 

INO: Gojo. He’s still two seconds behind, and on a two-stop. 

KENTO: But it’s Gojo. What’s his pace. 

INO: He’s currently point-five up.

KENTO: ****. 

 

LAP 30 :

 

IERI: Nice overtake. We need to extend the gap to two seconds before boxing. 

GOJO: Understood. 

 

LAP 35 : 

 

IERI: Box this lap, box this lap. 

GOJO: Confirm. 

IERI: You will come out P6, behind Megumi. He will not give you any resistance. 

 

LAP 40 : 

 

KENTO: I cannot defend against him, on the new medium without burning through my tyre. I have no idea what you expect me to do. 

INO: Copy. Do not defend if you think you’ll sacrifice your pace. 

 

LAP 45 : 

 

ITADORI: Please tell me that’s Megumi behind. 

TODOU: It’s Gojo, he’s on a new medium.

ITADORI: Are you ****ing kidding me, what am I supposed to do?

TODOU: Defend. 

ITADORI: Real helpful! 

 

LAP 47 : 

 

GOJO: That took longer than I wanted, DRS helped though. 

IERI: Copy, car in front is now Okkotsu, gap two and a half seconds. Mode push, mode push. 

GOJO: Pushing.

 

LAP 50 : 

 

MIGUEL: That is the chequered flag, P1, P1. 

OKKOTSU: Thank God, he was close at the end there. Needed one more lap, I reckon. 

MIGUEL: Yeah, good race and good defending. 

OKKOTSU: Who had fastest lap? 

MIGUEL: Gojo.

OKKOTSU: Not surprised. 

—

P7 to P2 isn’t a bad run, but Gojo still wishes it were a P1 as he watches Keicho congratulate Yuuta. This time, when he catches Getou’s eye, he smiles and nods. He’s still jealous, but it’s less of a stabbing and more of a dull ache for now. 

He gets weighed - he only lost two and a half kilos this time, nice! - and gives his post race interview - yes, I’m happy, yes I’m still in the championship fight, no bad luck in qualifying doesn’t define my form right now. 

Because the champagne isn’t alcoholic, and it doesn’t fizz, Gojo settles for pouring the whole bottle straight over Yuuji’s head. 

It’s not as good as a win, but seeing him next to them, grinning with all his teeth, after a crash like the one he had in practice is pretty fucking good. 

And so is Getou’s smile from below them. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWO - TOP TEN

 

POS	NAME	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	45
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	40
3	Yuuji ITADORI (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	33
4	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	22
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	20
6	Mai ZENIN (-1)	Meiji	16
7	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	8
8	Toge INUMAKI (+12)	Sengoku	8
9	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	6
10	Mei MEI (-2)	Haein	4

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWO 

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Scuderia Keicho (+1)	73
2	Jujutsu Technical Racing (-1)	65
3	Sengoku Racing (=)	30
4	Meiji (=)	22
5	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	9
6	Haein (=)	5

 

Notes:

the circuits referenced in this chapter are:
theSuzuka International Racing Course (flashback to 2001 Japanese Grand Prix, but Suzuka will make more appearances later!), the Bahrain International Circuit, and the Jeddah Corniche Circuit, otherwise known as the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, if you're following along with the tracks, lol :)

Chapter 3: iii - camber

Summary:

Camber (noun) /ˈkambə/ - (In reference to motor racing) - The angle at which a tyre leans into or away from the car relative to the vertical axis. Engineers will vary camber to improve a car's handling characteristics.

Notes:

hey omg.. its been five days, here's another 10k. yum.
tw for an ED implication (blink and u miss it). but honestly it gets worse from here on out. pls take care of yourselves and read the tags.
if you comment ill kiss you on your mouth and frame it on my wall. thanks :)

January 2002, Japan

 

Finally, Suguru is old enough to enter a winter series in Japan, which means he spends even more time on the track. His mom is angry about it, but he keeps up with his schoolwork perfectly, so she can’t do anything. His dad is thrilled. 

Shoko is entered, too, but Satoru is off in a Spanish series. He’s seen photos of him in the sun. He’s only a little jealous. 

Ever since Satoru won a championship - a real European title! - he’s been the talk of everyone karting. That kid’s gonna go far! He’s got natural talent! 

Even his dad joins in on Shoko’s mom gossiping about him. Suguru doesn’t know how he feels about it. He kind of wants people to talk about him like that, but he knows if Gojo was here, he’d be kicking rocks and muttering about how people expect him to be like his dad. 

Shoko’s the same, complaining about her mom constantly, whenever they have a moment alone. They hang out in Shoko’s motorhome, mostly. Suguru’s is still old, and still small. It has a bunk above the cab, with a curtain that tucks them out of view. They whisper there, hiding from the adults. 

“I think my mom wants me to marry him!” Shoko says, one day. She’s still got her base layers on, but her racing suit is stripped off, somewhere on the floor of the motorhome. Suguru is still in a T-shirt and jeans. His heat isn’t until later. 

Suguru wrinkles his nose. He can’t imagine Shoko and Satoru getting married. “Why would she want that?” 

“His family is like, royalty. She wants to be- I dunno, a part of that, I guess.” Shoko sniffs. “I don’t wanna kiss Gojo. His breath smells.” 

“Then don’t kiss him.” Suguru says. It’s rather simple, really. 

“I wish I was a boy.” Shoko huffs. “No one would want me to be Gojo’s little girlfriend then. I could just be friends with him, and race for fun, like you,” 

“Like me?” Suguru gawks. 

“Yeah. Your dad isn’t practically arranging your marriage to him, right now.” 

“But you like Satoru, right?” 

Shoko nods. “He’s okay. He’s cool, whatever. But I’d rather die than marry him.” 

Suguru laughs, and Shoko does too. It’s all ridiculous, really. 

 

—

 

Without Satoru there, fighting him tooth and nail at every race, Suguru wins the series. Shoko comes third, the highest placed girl. When they get out their karts, Shoko runs to him and hugs him tight. “This is so cool!” 

It’s much less cool when Shoko targets him, and throws an entire bottle of the not-champagne they’re given over his head. He squeals at the sensation, feeling it prickling underneath his base layers. 

“Getou.” 

The voice speaking is foreign to his ears. He turns to see Gojo’s dad, looming above them, with a slight smile on his face. He immediately stops trying to shake the bottle of not-alcoholic not-champagne, and stands still. Shoko is unmoving beside him. 

“Hello.” 

“Where is your father? I’d like to talk to him.” 

It occurs to Suguru that this is the first time he’s heard Gojo Senior speak Japanese. He swallows. “He’s over there.” 

Gojo nods and smiles, again. “Congratulations on your win, Getou.”

“Is Satoru here?” He blurts, like an idiot, and Gojo just looks at him all strange. 

“No, he’s still in Spain.” 

 

—

 

The series is finished. Suguru has a trophy above his bed. It’s his biggest one yet. It’s made of glass and gold and all things good. 

He has his knees to his chest, curling his toes on the bed. His parents are arguing downstairs. The argument is about him. It’s about money. It’s about school. It’s about karting. 

“He cannot miss this much of his school year,” 

“He will be with Gojo. They will look after him!” 

“He is twelve, and he doesn’t speak nearly enough English-” 

“This is an opportunity we can’t pass up-” 

“Where are we finding the money for this?” 

“The money is sorted, it’s no problem.” 

“We can’t be in debt to these people!” 

His phone lights up with a text from Satoru. 

Are you racing in Europe this year?

Suguru wants to race there so bad. The championship that the Gojos are offering to take him on goes to Valencia, Cremona, Rodby. The names of the places sound funny in his mouth. 

He wants to share Satoru’s massive motorhome and sneak out and eat ice cream and run around the tracks together and laugh at him trying to ride a bike on the tarmac. 

But it doesn’t feel worth it, right now. 

He ignores Satoru’s text and plays snake on his phone until his parents stop shouting. 

 

—

April 2022, Australia

 

Melbourne’s atmosphere is always insane. There’s a million cardboard cutouts, even more flags. Gojo loves Australia, and Australia loves him, despite the fact that he’s not Australian. He’ll become an Aussie in spirit, for the weekend, though. He loves it here. 

He walks into the paddock on Thursday with Yaga, side-by-side. Shoko is already here, somewhere, working much harder than Gojo does. 

“Just a heads up, Yuki is in the paddock this weekend, as a reporter,” Yaga says, nonchalant. “She’s with the grade one broadcasters,”

Gojo groans. Yuki Tsukomo has a reputation, and it doesn’t come from nowhere. “Can we find out what she’s hosting?” 

“We’re working on it,” Yaga says, “but please be prepared. You know what she’s like. She’ll want something out of you.”

Gojo does know. Yuki is ruthless. None of the drivers really like talking to her, because she has a way of making uncomfortable truths come to light with her lines of questioning. She knows all the paddock rumours, probably by virtue of Todou and Keicho, and she capitalises on it. 

The broadcasters love her, because she gets them views. The viewers love her because she knows what she’s talking about in only the way a modern era championship winner could, and because she manages to make even the most experienced PR merchants squirm. 

The drivers hate her. But because everyone else loves her, they have to put up with her. 

Out of the current grid, there are four drivers who have been around long enough that they raced alongside Yuki. Gojo is one of them. The others are Utahime, Mei Mei, and Nanami. She spent six seasons in grade one, most with Scuderia Keicho. A remarkably short career. She won three of those seasons, and came second in another. 

So, really, she’s allowed to strut around the paddock like she owns it. There’s only two drivers in history with more championships than her, and one of them is Gojo. The other is Sukuna. So he feels like he can afford to be a bit informal with her, really. They’re not friends, exactly, but they’re not nothing, either. 

She was Getou’s teammate, back in his rookie year, when Getou was outperforming him by miles and he was struggling to keep his head above water. Partly because the car he was driving in 2010 and 2011 wasn’t on the pace, and partly because he struggled jumping straight from grade three to grade one. 

So yeah, by osmosis, or something similar, Gojo knows her pretty well. It still doesn’t mean they’re friends, though, because she’d quit in 2012, disappeared on holiday for a year, and then came back and started interrogating Gojo about his newly formed rivalry with his best friend. So. 

But to be fair, he thinks that about ninety percent of the questions directed at him that year, and in 2014, had been about Getou. It wasn’t just her. The whole paddock had been enthralled by them. Gojo found it funny, at first, until Getou was spitting out venom in interviews, and suddenly it hadn’t been funny anymore. 

Then it was fucking awful, actually. 

But he’s won six world championships, and he’s in the best car, and he has a teammate who won’t fight him (for now). So life is good, and he’s in Australia, and the sun is hot on the back of his neck. 

He goes to his drivers’ room to get suncream. 

 

—

 

Most people who know Gojo would say he’s a terrible liar, and a worse actor. He’s been told it to his face before, by well-meaning reporters, or other drivers, or engineers. When it comes up, he laughs, not denying it. After all, it’s his thing: he’s a little too sincere, at times, wearing his heart on his sleeve when he probably shouldn’t. 

Gojo, however, is not a bad liar. And he’s a pretty good actor. He can blink slowly through uncomfortable questions, smile when someone grabs him to try and get a photo or a signature or attention. He’s crossed his legs and sighed, looking utterly relaxed when people make comments about his body, or his up-in-the-air sexuality, or a bad performance. 

And here’s the thing: people think he’s genuinely just not bothered. To some extent, he isn’t. He’s confident in his ability to drive, and that’s why he’s here, not to answer questions on his personal life and teammate drama. 

But there’s a trick to it. Gojo, at the beginning of every race week, steps outside of himself. For the media, he isn’t Satoru. He’s Gojo, greatest of all time, youngest race winner, six-time world champion. For his team, he’s Gojo. For interviews, press conferences, challenge videos, he is Gojo. For his competitors, he is Gojo. 

He’s not sure when he started doing it, because he didn’t start off grade one like that, at all. He was mad, and happy, and he was so honest about everything all the time. Back when he raced for Sengoku, in the early days, the PR team hated him, because he’d call his competitors assholes, and he got into a physical fight with Toji when he cost him a podium finish by not leaving space on the corner, like an idiot. 

When he started in Jujutsu Tech, the way he acted worked in his favour. The team capitalised on it, turned his image into something more favourable: someone young and sincere and passionate and incredibly talented. 

Later, they used Getou like that, too. Two boys, with the world at their feet, the future of their sport, fulfilling a childhood dream of being teammates in Grade One. 

Then, after: where did it go wrong? The desire to win made them bitter! Getou’s in the wall, and it must be the pressure from falling out with his teammate! Getou can never live up to him, what a shame!

Gojo reckons that maybe the separation between Gojo (the driver) and Satoru (the boy, the person) happened somewhere in between. Besides, not many people call him Satoru anymore. Not in a way that matters, anyway. 

Then, after the after: he’s a machine, not impacted by Getou’s floundering at all! Not even fussed after rumours of a huge argument, of a falling out. Not caring that he’s lost his childhood best friend to this! All he cares about is racing. He’s the greatest of all time.

Gojo has heard the whispers. He doesn’t care. He’s here to race. 

(Satoru has heard them, but not truly listened. He’s too busy looking for figures in his rear views to take it in). 

His palm collides with the middle of Megumi’s back, knocking him forward as they move through the paddock. Megumi grumbles, and Toto carries on at his side, obedient. 

“How’re you doing?” 

“Awful, now you’re here,” 

“Aw, you flatter me!” Gojo grins, leaning all over Megumi as they walk. It’s funny, riling him up. He’s like a cat, all pretending he hates you whilst being your shadow when you walk away. 

They’re not in the same press conference today. Pre-race proceedings usually keep drivers from the same team separate. Gojo doesn’t have anything, today, apart from the fanzone later, where it’s all the teams on together. 

Megumi, however, is in a group with Yuuji, Mei Mei, and Nobara. The three (relative) rookies and the longest standing driver on the grid. Gojo wonders vaguely who put that lineup together, because it’s gold. Especially with Nobara and Yuuji in the same conference. Those two spur each other on to no end, and it’s only been two races.

They were in grade three together, though, so it makes sense, Gojo supposes. 

“Why are you following me.” Megumi stares dead ahead, shoulders set against Gojo’s floundering. 

Gojo shrugs. He has nothing better to do. He’s run away from his responsibilities and the PR team. He’s sick of someone with a camera following him everywhere. It’s entertaining, watching staff scurry around him like ants, for about five seconds before it gets old. Realistically, he knows there’s press everywhere. There’ll be someone recording them now, probably, uploading it to a cute moments compilation or to social media. But at least they’re not right up in Gojo’s face. 

Megumi sighs, as if he was expecting Gojo to not have an answer about where he’s actually supposed to be. “You know, for a driver who’s so good, you don’t spend much time actually training or looking at data.” 

Gojo laughs, “because I’m a natural talent,” 

“Tell that to your first three seasons in grade one,” Megumi snaps back, with no bite. Gojo peels himself off him and grabs at the fabric over his chest dramatically. 

“Oh, you wound me! However will I survive being criticised by a rookie?” 

Megumi just rolls his eyes in response. “I don’t know how you have a single world championship with your attitude,” 

Gojo shrugs, “sure, keep telling yourself that.” 

Yuuji’s shout from behind them makes them both stop still. There’s only a split second before he’s barrelling into them, arms wrapped around Megumi’s shoulders.

The blush rises so quickly to Megumi’s cheeks that it’s comical. Gojo grins at them. Ah, young love.

“We’re going to be late,” Megumi says, still with his fur fluffed out, but with less bite than when he was speaking to Gojo. 

“It’s okay, they’ll wait for us,” Yuuji says, as if it solves anything. “Nobara!” 

Nobara is strolling over, eyebrow raised as she slurps out of a drinks bottle with a comically long straw. She looks completely unimpressed by them. 

“Is Gojo coming? I thought he wasn’t on anything today,” Yuuji says, and Megumi rolls his eyes. 

“No, he was just following, so maybe he should get back to his real job,” 

“This is my real job,” Gojo replies, pushing the rim of his glasses up his nose, “professional bodyguard for Fushiguro Megumi!” 

“Quit it.” The blush on Megumi’s cheeks could be from Gojo’s shouting, or from Yuuji’s arm still looped casually around him. 

“We’re gonna be late, you know,” Nobara chips in, much more relaxed than Megumi was about it. She’s just a passenger to whatever the other two have got going on, and she looks amused by it. 

“That’s what he said!” Yuuji grins, pointing at Megumi, who finally manages to weasel himself out of Yuuji’s grasp. 

“Then we need to go.” He turns on his heel, with Nobara by his side, and Yuuji frowns, hesitating before he joins them. 

“See you later, Gojo!” 

Gojo waves, and then supposes he’ll go back to the garage and raid Yaga’s office for sweets. 

 

—

 

It turns out that Scuderia Keicho and Jujutsu Technical Racing, in all their wisdom and expertise, have booked the same hotel as each other this weekend. Gojo wasn’t aware of it on Tuesday, when he got in from Monaco and crashed in his bed for twelve hours. He also wasn’t aware of it on Wednesday, or Thursday, when media and fans took up all his time and he got back to the hotel late. 

On Friday morning, however, he is made aware rather abruptly when he opens his door to see Getou Suguru locking his room. On the same floor. Their doors are opposite each other, for fuck’s sake. 

He stares at Getou like an idiot for a moment, racking his brain for whatever sin he’s committed to make this happen to him. He can’t find anything, apart from maybe laughing at Kasumi going into the wall again during free practice in Bahrain. 

It seems his bad luck isn’t over yet, either, because Getou hears him, turns around, and smiles. Like they’re friends. “Ah, Satoru, are you-” 

Gojo doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence, because he stalks away down the hall to the elevator, and prays Getou takes the stairs. 

He doesn’t. 

Getou looks like he’s about to open his mouth again when his phone rings in his pocket. He hesitates, and Gojo shrugs, “I won’t tell anyone anything.” 

Getou picks up the phone and answers in English. “Yes, I’m on my way. What- no. No, tell him no, he shouldn’t. We are not changing the setup until after free practice one, when we have some driver feedback. I understand, yes, but Yuuta has only driven there twice, and Yuuji once, there is no way of- listen to me, instead of talking over me, and wait until I’m there before you change it. Right. Bye,”

The elevator dings, signalling they’ve reached the ground floor. The lobby. Gojo pushes his hands into his pockets, and blurts, in Japanese, “your English is better than it used to be.” 

Getou laughs, and the words sound so much better in his native language. “It’s been eight years, Satoru,” 

Like that answers anything. 

(Also, it hasn’t been eight years yet. That comes around in December. But Gojo doesn’t have time to correct him before he strolls out and gets in the car to go to the track). 

 

—

 

On his way into the paddock, he’s accosted by Yuki. Who, surprisingly, isn’t being flanked by anyone. 

“Ah, Gojo, I wanted to talk to you,” 

“You’ll have to talk to my manager,” Gojo says, all teeth. He’s not particularly interested in talking to her before practice, and even less in being quoted on some clickbait article. 

“Off the record,” she says, then, and Gojo stops. 

“Completely?” When she nods, he continues, “why?” 

“Curious, is all. Why not?” 

Gojo shrugs. There’s no cameras recording his every movement, the inflection in his speech. 

Yuki smiles. “Why were you at Keicho, after Yuuji’s crash?” 

Danger, danger, danger!! Gojo’s mind supplies. 

“How’d you know that?” 

“Well, it showed on the TV screens, first of all,” Yuki says, “but I don’t tend to watch free practice. My boss sent it to me, asked me what I thought of it. It got me thinking.” 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing on the record. He won’t quote me or write an article about it, don’t worry.” Yuki is easy, open, not bothered by anything. Gojo supposes that’s what not racing does for you. 

“Right.”

“So? Why were you there? I mean, you two aren’t friends, are you?” 

Gojo thinks back to the elevator, and the hotel, and the corridor outside his drivers’ room. 

“No, we’re not. I just- it felt like the crash was bad, I wanted to know he was okay,” 

“You could do that from your own garage,” Yuki says, sing-song, “you’re supposed to do that from your own garage,” 

“The world stands still, y’know? And Suguru-” Gojo curses himself for using his first name, but he blames force of habit. He always used to call Getou by his first name when Yuki was around- “-doesn’t really do too well. With- crashes.” 

Yuki raises her eyebrows at him, like she does during an interview when she gets a soundbite she wants. “So you went to check on Getou?”

“Yuuji too,” Gojo says, realising his mistake just a little too late. “It was a bad crash.” 

“Did you even see it, before you went over?” 

“I saw enough,” his reply is a bit short, but he supposes it’s fine. “The car was a wreck,” 

“But you didn’t see it happen. You were still in the car,” Yuki hums. “Huh. Well, you’ve satisfied me, Gojo, I’ll see you later. Good luck in practice today.” 

And with that, she strolls off into the depths of the paddock, leaving Gojo standing alone and wondering what exactly he’d just admitted to her. 

 

—

October 2002, Japan

 

Gojo wins the European championship, and then they both compete in an Asian championship over the summer directly after. Suguru’s mom is furious about it, but his dad is thrilled that the Gojos have taken Suguru under their wing. And Suguru is winning. Winning races, qualifying well, everything! The talent scouts are talking about him, he knows. He finishes runner-up to Satoru in the Asian Championship, which is a win, basically. 

Gojo invites him to go and see the Japanese Grand Prix at Suzuka again. Gojo’s dad goes again, and Shoko’s family is there too. 

This time around, the Japanese Grand Prix is the last one on the calendar. And it’s the championship decider! Suguru’s been watching the races carefully on the TV, when he can. The points are close, he thinks, but not equal. 

“Who do you want to win?” Shoko asks, swinging her legs from the chair she’s sitting in. She’s wearing a sky blue dress with long sleeves, and pretty shoes with a slight heel. Her mom has let her wear the tiniest bit of makeup, and she’s been acting very proud of it all day. 

Suguru thinks she looks the same, but he smiles and says she looks nice because that’s what friends do. Satoru doesn’t say anything about it. He doubts he even noticed. 

“I think Sukuna’s gonna win,” Gojo says, matter-of-fact, in the way he does when he thinks he knows everything. 

“I didn’t ask that!” Shoko says, indignant, “I asked who you want to win,” 

“I don’t care,” Gojo says, “but Sukuna beating the championship record would be pretty cool,” 

That’s true. There’s Kenjaku and Sukuna, both in the Haein. Teammates, and rivals. Some reporters say they hate each other, and some say they’re friends, but aggressive on the track. Getou doesn’t know what’s true, and Gojo hasn’t offered any information from his dad, so he guesses he never will. 

“Well, I want Kenjaku to win,” Shoko says, chin jutted out, “he’s cooler,” 

“No way, Sukuna’s the better driver,” Gojo blurts, “it should be him.” 

“But it would be cool to see Kenjaku win after everything,” Shoko says, “like, his brother died and he’s racing for him-” 

“Well, his brother’ll be disappointed, then, ‘cause he’s not racing well enough,” Gojo says, “it doesn’t matter, any of that stuff. He drives the same car, and he’s lost more times than he’s won this season.” 

“But it’ll be worth it if Kenjaku wins. Like, his brother dying. It’ll be worth it. Plus, he’s the underdog,”

Sacrifice equals success. Et cetera. 

“Underdogs are underdogs for a reason,” Gojo sniffs, “they don’t win.”

 

—

 

Sukuna wins the race, and the championship with it. The crowd roars, the crowd boos, the crowd screams and cries. 

The commentators’ voices boom over the loudspeakers, over the crowd: “the championship record is broken- Ryomen Sukuna, the King, undoubtedly, irrefutably the King, the greatest of all time!” 

“See, I was right!” Gojo says to Shoko, hair wild in the wind and eyes bright with adrenaline from watching. 

On the podium, Sukuna grins wild with pointy teeth and spiky hair, raising a fist to the sky in triumph. His team roars from below, jumping over each other below him. 

Kenjaku stands on the podium below him, in third place. He looks at his feet, hands tucked neatly behind his back. An incredible driver, defeated by a rival. His eyes are lowered, long hair falling across his face. 

Suguru turns to look at Satoru and sees him smiling with all his teeth. His canines look sharp from where they’re stuck in his gums. 

He tucks a strand of his own long hair behind his ear. 

 

—

April 2022, Australia

 

Both free practice sessions on Friday go by without any major crashes, this time. Someone spins off track in sector two at some point, resulting in a brief yellow flag whilst Gojo is completing a flying lap, which he consequently has to abort. It was his final one, too, so he ends free practice two outside of the top five, which is a bit embarrassing. But he supposes it’s only practice. 

Besides, after the first two races, it’s not like anyone with any sense is going to underestimate their pace. Megumi is beginning to really sink his teeth into the car, too, now, often less than half a second off Gojo’s pace. It leaves the commentators and reporters frothing at the mouth for him. Could we be witnessing a great rookie season from Fushiguro? Could we be witnessing a future world champion?

Gojo goes back to the hotel late, but not late enough to see Getou again. He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed. 

Free practice three goes much more swimmingly. Megumi ends the session in P3, and Gojo ends it in P1. Yuuji is behind him, and Yuuta is behind Megumi. 

Also notable is a huge jump in pace from Inumaki in the Sengoku after struggling the first two races. He ends P6, right behind Nanami’s P5. Inumaki and Nanami are definitely capable of podiums, provided with the right circumstances, and Sengoku have started decently well this season. With upgrades, they might end up closer to the leaders than anticipated. 

Gojo voices this to Shoko, who frowns. “You really think that?” 

“Toge gets underestimated as a driver ‘cause he doesn’t do interviews, and Nanami’s modest. We need to be careful of them.” 

“We’ll agree to disagree, I think,” Shoko says, “but of course, we’ll keep an eye on their pace. Inumaki’s had a good jump in the free practices.”

Gojo returns his eyes to the datasets in front of him. Their improvement from race one to race three has been minimal, but their first major upgrade will come in the form of a new floor for race four in Emilia Romagna. Hopefully it’ll give them some extra speed in the corners, although the data is never one hundred percent accurate in actuality. 

Usually Gojo can squeeze out extra, compared to what the simulations suggest, but it can go the other way, too, and make them slower. That’s rarely happened in this team, though. It did happen back when he was still a rookie, but back then, every upgrade seemed to make the car feel alien beneath him. 

And in all honesty, the car in that team needed to be driven the opposite of how he liked to drive. The Jujutsu has always been more suited to him. Thanks, Yaga. 

 

—

 

Post-Qualifying Interview with Satoru Gojo, Australian Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: Hi Gojo, what a lap! This is your ninety-sixth career pole, does it feel sweet? Talk me through it. 

SATORU GOJO : You’re making me feel old, Yuki. Yeah, it feels good. The crowd is amazing here. Hey, Melbourne! It’s been hard trying to get the tyres in the right window to push, but it all came together nicely in the end. [Laughs] Contending with wildlife in Q1 was interesting. 

Q: Yes, I can hear the crowd behind me! You didn’t seem to have any concerns about the car at all, this time out, whilst your teammate was complaining about balance through the corners. Is balance a concern for you, too? 

SG : I mean, I haven’t heard anything on Megumi, and I dunno what position he’s in, even. We’ll fine tune for tomorrow, but he’s a rookie and I think everyone is being super tough on him. He’s not been out of the points yet and he’s driven well today. 

Q: But no issues with balance for you?

SG : Ha, no. Maybe they’ll crop up tomorrow, make things interesting for me. 

Q: Speaking of interesting, you’ve got Itadori beside you and Okkotsu behind you. How worried are you about either of the Keichos pulling a turn one overtake?

SG : It’s always a possibility, but pole is important for a reason. 

Q: Congrats, it’s good to see you.

SG : Likewise.

 

—

 

Qualifying is tough. Gojo ends on pole, but Megumi has to burn through an extra set of soft tyres to get into Q3 and still only finishes P5, behind both Keichos and the Sengoku of Nanami. True to Gojo’s predictions, Inumaki is right behind him in P6. Whilst Gojo loves Megumi, Inumaki is definitely going to gain places at the start because he has kind of insanely good racecraft. His biggest weakness has always been qualifying. 

Which means tomorrow, Sunday, Gojo is going to have a tight race between him, Yuuji, Yuuta, and possibly Inumaki or Nanami. Or both. 

It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure. 

The three of them (him and the two Keicho drivers) file into the room for the press conference. Haibara is back in his regular spot, smiling as he claps his hands together. 

“Ah, a very warm welcome to our top three in qualifying! In third, Yuuta Okkotsu, in second, Yuuji Itadori, and taking his ninety-sixth career pole, Satoru Gojo. Take us through it, Satoru,” 

Gojo runs on autopilot, running through the lap, the tyre deg, the pitlane entry. Nothing too difficult. 

Yuuji, beside him, complains about the ninety degree corners, and jokes about how the car is sticky on them. Yuuta is much more reserved, saying he was happy with his lap time and they’ll fine tune for tomorrow, et cetera. 

“Let’s open up to the floor, then, shall we?” Haibara hums, “yes?” 

“Lilith Davies, Modern Motorsport, question for Gojo, we have seen a turn one manoeuvre pulled off here previously. In fact, the last time it happened, it was you and Suguru Getou in P2 and P3, overtaking Tsukumo, ganging up on her. Do you think that’s a risk for you tomorrow?” 

Gojo laughs, because how do reporters remember overtakes from races over a decade ago? He barely remembers that day, although it was an incredible race. He’d made Getou drink champagne from his shoe on the podium. “When was that, 2011? Man, I barely remember that. Yeah, there’s potential for a turn one overtake, but I’m more experienced than both of them combined, so. Even if they get it done, there’s a whole race after that.” 

Yuuji grins beside him, holding his hand over his mouth so that the reporters can’t see what he’s saying, “I should get Getou to tell us how to do it!” 

Gojo just laughs, rolling back into his seat, “I’d like to see you try!” 

 

— 

 

He runs into Getou again when he’s leaving for the track on Sunday. Getou blinks at him, fingers coming up to reach at his lanyard, attached to his hip rather than his neck. 

Gojo’s not sure where they stand. He knows everything about this man: his greatest fears, the way he speaks, the lines in his face. He knows his favourite meals, he knows the wine he liked to drink, he knows his coffee order. He knows he wears a single necklace, inherited from his dad, and a bracelet his mom got him, but he actually hates the feeling of jewellery on his skin. 

He knows his favourite way to get Gojo’s attention was to loop two fingers through one of the necklaces or bracelets Gojo was wearing at any given time and pull. He knows that Getou can’t eat before a race, or else he has to run and throw up after, before he’s interviewed. 

And now they stand looking at each other from the opposite ends of a hallway. Opposite teams. Maybe Gojo should ask where their hotels are for the rest of the season, so he can change his bookings, cost cap be damned. 

“How did you get into the motorhome, before?” Is what comes out of his mouth, though. 

Getou has the good sense to look a little guilty. “I stole a pass from one of the engineers we poached at the end of last season. It still worked. I couldn’t believe you had such a massive oversight in your security.” 

Gojo blows air out through his nose. 

 

—

 

Gojo laughs to himself in the cockpit when they start, out of pure disbelief. Because: “they actually managed it, holy shit!” 

“Yeah, that’s P3, P3,” Shoko’s voice comes back over the radio, “get your head down, our pace is likely to be better.” 

“What strategy are they on?” Gojo says, as he wrangles the car through turns three and four, almost up the back of Yuuta’s car. 

“Checking.” Shoko says, “we are considering a switch to plan B, stay within DRS if you can,” 

“Copy.” Gojo says, pulling away from turn five with his foot pressed hard on the throttle. 

There’s silence for a few moments, and as Gojo passes the start line to begin lap two, Shoko comes in on the radio. “We are the only ones in the top ten to have an extra set of softs, do you want to switch to plan B?” 

Plan B is a two stopper, where most cars will only do one: medium, to hard, to medium to finish. Both Yuuji and Yuuta ahead are on their only set of mediums, meaning they don’t have the option to change strategy, apart from using a set of scrubbed softs, in the event of a safety car. If Gojo has to push harder to try and get an overtake here, then an extra set of tyres would probably do him good. 

“Could we get an undercut?” 

“Yes.” Shoko says, certain, “but it will be harder than doing it on track.” 

“Switch to plan B,” Gojo grits his teeth, “update me on the pace.” 

“Itadori on 27.3 and Okkotsu 27.8, you’re on a 27.5,” Shoko says, “we need to get this overtake done, Itadori is pulling away.” 

“Is he backing me up on purpose?” Gojo breathes. That would be smart. Keicho might sacrifice a P2, but they’d have a much better chance at a win. 

“Negative, there’s chatter telling him to pick up the pace to stay in Yuuji’s DRS,” 

“Copy,” Gojo grits his teeth out of the rapid chicane at turns eleven and twelve. “It feels like he’s trying to back me up.” 

“You’ve got more pace than this. Get after him.” 

Gojo gets it done in lap ten, with the help of his DRS. By the time he does, though: 

“What’s the gap to Yuuji?” 

“Four seconds.” Shoko says, and Gojo knows this whole thing has her tense. “Full push, we need to get in the undercut window.” 

Gojo almost forgets to reply, pressing his foot to the throttle, already set on catching Yuuji. He wonders if Getou actually did tell them both how to pull off the same move that he did in 2011. 

Lap seventeen, and the tyres are almost gone, from pushing so hard. Gojo feels himself sliding and says as much over the radio, to which Shoko says, “copy, box now.” 

He comes out behind Yuuta again, but also behind Nanami, which is less expected. It seems the Sengoku’s race pace is a bit better than it was last season. 

Still, with the tyre offset, and DRS, Gojo is clear of Nanami by lap twenty-one, and setting off after Yuuta. 

“Gap to Itadori?” He asks. There’s a moment before Shoko’s reply. 

“Nineteen seconds, gap to Yuuta in front is ten.” 

“Copy.” 

In theory, they’ve got the undercut done. Keicho pits Yuuji first, on lap twenty five, followed by Yuuta on lap twenty seven. Now Gojo’s out front, in clean air, controlling the pace. 

After his second pit stop on lap forty, Gojo comes out behind Yuuta, which is a blow. He swears down the radio, and Shoko tells him to shut up and drive. 

He clears Yuuta by lap forty-five. 

“Gap to Yuuji?” 

“Fifteen seconds, you’re currently a second up per lap on the faster tyre, and he’s reporting sliding, you can get him.” 

Gojo does get him, on lap fifty-two, and controls the pace for the last six laps to bring home a victory. He climbs out of the car, stands atop it and jumps down into Yaga’s outstretched arms, into Shoko’s hands. 

Yuuji, obviously not perturbed by the loss of P1, jumps from his car and runs to the Keicho mechanics, squealing with delight as he gets embraced by them. Then Gojo turns and sees the Sengoku team roaring, and Nanami clambering out of his car in the P3 spot. On instinct, he walks over, grabbing his old friend’s hand, shouting through his helmet, “I didn’t expect to see you here!” 

He can hear the roll of Nanami’s eyes even when his visor is still down. “Neither did I,” 

 

—

 

There’s rituals, in grade one. And when you win in Australia, you pour champagne into your shoe and drink from it. It’s always disgusting and salty and smells like shit, but the crowd goes wild. 

After dumping champagne all over Yuuji, and spraying it in Nanami’s face (like old times!) he holds up a shoe and presents it to the crowd, who roar beneath him. As he tips it back, it dribbles down his chin, running cold on the column of his neck. He holds it out to Nanami, who gives him a withering stare and shakes his head, despite having a small smile on his lips. 

Nothing, after all, can take away from the happiness of a podium, even Gojo Satoru asking you to drink from his smelly shoe. 

When he presents it to Yuuji, he doesn’t expect him to say yes. But the younger boy opens up his mouth, and Yuuji allows champagne to be tipped straight into his mouth. It misses, half going on his face, and they both laugh, Yuuji grinning and covered in sweat. 

“Y’know, everyone thought Yuuta was gonna wipe the floor with you,” Gojo says to him, as they descend the steps from the podium, and Yuuji huffs. 

“I expected Yuuta to wipe the floor with me. I dunno what’s going on.” 

“Well done, Yuuji.” 

Yuuji grins up at him like a dog that’s been given a treat. 

 

—

 

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS' CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND THREE - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	71
2	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	51
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	50
4	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku Racing	37
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	32
6	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	22
7	Toge INUMAKI (+1)	Sengoku Racing	16
8	Iori UTAHIME (-1)	Kyoto G1 Team	10
9	Mei MEI (+1)	Haein	8
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (-1)	Meiji	7

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS' CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND THREE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (+1)	103
2	Scuderia Keicho (-1)	101
3	Sengoku Racing (=)	45
4	Meiji (=)	26
5	Haein (+1)	18
6	Kyoto G1 Team (-1)	12

—

Transcript for post-Race press conference, Australian Grand Prix 2022, hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: Welcome to our winners from the Australian Grand Prix, in third place, Nanami Kento, in second, Yuuji Itadori, and the winner, of course, Satoru Gojo. How did it feel out there? 

SATORU GOJO : Good, it was exciting for sure. 

Q: I mean, those overtakes on turn one! I was on the edge of my seat! We heard on the radio after that about a switch in strategy, was the decision to go to the two-stop influenced by that?

SG : Ah, of course, we were saving an extra set of mediums anyway, but I needed to push much harder than anticipated, so we made the decision to change. Yuuta kept me at bay for a while. [To Yuuji] Did you tell him to do that? 

YUUJI ITADORI : No- no! 

Q: Shall we come to you, then, Yuuji? Great race, talk me through it. 

YI : Uh- well. We got the overtake done on turn one, and then my goal was kinda to try and pull as big a gap as possible to Gojo. We knew he’d be coming back at us, ‘cause he’s definitely super fast and has the pace this season, so it was just trying to control the pace a bit, manage the tyres, maybe. [to Gojo] Like you would, if you’d stayed P1. 

Q: Your teammate isn’t here on the podium with you, despite a lot of people predicting that he’d take P2 from you today. Did he have any problems with the car?

YI : Uhm- I’m not sure. I haven’t heard anything. I don’t think so–? I mean, I’m not being updated on anyone behind me unless they’re racing me, so. 

Q: Does it feel that much sweeter to be the underdog and come away with a win over your teammate, here, then? Considering there were no issues with the car.

YI : Uhm. I guess? P2 feels pretty cool. But- it’s like- it’s like beating anyone else, y’know? Yuuta’s a great driver. 

Q: Nanami, hello! First podium in a Sengoku, how is it?

NANAMI KENTO : Good. It’s always nice to bring home points. 

Q: That last lap overtake was just sensational. Where’d you find the pace?

NK : DRS helped us on that one. This track is also much more suited to the car than Bahrain and Jeddah, so. 

Q: Still, I don’t think many of us considered you for a podium today. 

NK : The team has worked hard all weekend and we’ve exceeded expectations. Inumaki also drove well behind me. Important points for the team. 

SG : I never doubted you, Nanami. 

NK : Thanks. 

Q: So Gojo, you thought Nanami could be a threat? 

SG : Yeah. Their pace took a huge jump up this week and it was close between him and Yuuta in quali. (note: qualifying). I was saying to my engineer, oh we need to watch for them.

Q: Just leading on from that, you’ve won two of the first three races. How soon will you start thinking about that record-breaking seventh championship? 

SG : Not yet, that’s for sure! I mean- [to Itadori] you’re very close to me in pace, and so is Yuuta. I wouldn’t count Nanami out entirely, yet, either, and Megumi could cause me some trouble down the line. 

Q: Well, it’s yours to lose, at this point. You’re twenty points clear of Yuuji and Yuuta. 

SG : It’s theirs to win. They’ll be challengers, for sure. 

 

—

 

They all end up in a bar somewhere in Melbourne. Yuuji immediately buys a round of shots for everyone, which must cost him a fortune, and the bartender raises her eyebrows when he says how many she needs to pour. Gojo, after watching her struggle and go through about three separate bottles, slides her a hefty tip in dollars and grimaces at her. 

She looks at him gratefully, and says “you sure?” but she’s already sliding it into her pocket. 

The three teams stay mostly separate, but Gojo, Nanami and Yuuji brush shoulders in the middle as they raise their glasses. Someone shouts, “to a fuckin’ brilliant race!” 

Yuuji’s eyes squint together as he drinks, mouth twisting in disgust. Gojo laughs at him, and offers him his. Not like he was going to drink it anyway. “Want mine, Yuuji?” 

Yuuji looks disgusted, but takes it anyway. And then the party begins. 

Gojo likes these celebrations, really. He stopped drinking after his first few seasons. Alcohol lingers in his body and makes training hard, and his mind foggy. It also makes him make incredibly poor decisions, so he doesn’t drink. Shoko, however, does, and he buys her her favourite wine all night. As a favour. He loves her. She’s at least fifty percent responsible for all his victories. 

Yuuji, once he’s drunk enough - or sober, honestly Gojo can never tell with that kid - drags Gojo with both hands into the middle of the dance floor, where there’s a bunch of people dancing all in a circle. Gojo can pick out Miwa, and Todou, and Maki and Nobara, and Inumaki touching shoulders with Yuuta, who somehow has been roped into this. Even Panda, and Muta, and a couple of other race engineers are watching. So Gojo ends up in the middle of a circle, dancing with a huge grin on his face. Yuuji spins him around, and Miwa whoops, and even Inumaki dances, hands linked with Yuuta’s as they stumble forward. 

Gojo is sure he can smell weed, and there’s definitely someone passing out coke in the bathroom, because there’s a two week break and they won’t be subjected to any drug tests. He’s sure he heard someone offering molly between the mechanics. Whatever, it’s none of his business what they get into in their spare time. He’s definitely done worse. 

Todou is currently trying to get Yuuji to go and talk to a girl (Yuuji seems entirely uninterested and is asking Gojo why Megumi isn’t here), and Gojo is laughing over the music when he sees it. Getou, leaning on the bar, dress shirt open with the necklace he wears glinting in the low light. He’s turned to the side, the gentle slope of his jawline and his smile caught in the light. It’s purple. Gojo doesn’t know why it matters, but it suits him. It always has. 

By his side is Nanami, tired eyes creased into a smile as he listens to whatever Getou’s saying to him. Then there’s Haibara, leaning all his weight onto Nanami, arms linked as he talks animatedly back to Getou. With fervour. 

Gojo feels ill, all of a sudden, because is he the only one holding a grudge? He’s missing something, surely. Everyone else is perfectly fine with him. 

Getou’s drinking red wine. Haibara has a cocktail. Nanami’s soda-lime-whatever sits on the bar by their shoulders. 

Gojo does not catch Getou’s eye. He doesn’t look at his smile, or the way his eyes are soft when he looks at Haibara. No. He doesn’t. He turns away and heads back to Shoko.

“You having fun with the kids?” Shoko laughs, tipsy and loose and definitely wine-drunk. Her smile is lazy, pulled to one side as she watches Yaga dance with Yuuji. 

“Yeah,” Gojo replies. He pulls his shirt away from his skin: it’s sticky. With sweat, or other people’s drinks, he doesn’t know. 

Shoko takes a sip of her wine. It’s dainty and delicate and everything Gojo should want, really. She’s pretty. “He’s staring at you, by the way,” 

“Who?” 

Shoko levels a gaze at him. “Getou,” 

Gojo smiles, easy, in the way he does when someone asks him a difficult question in a press conference. “You can talk to him, y’know.” 

“You’re not the only one who was hurt by him, Satoru,” she says: a reminder. “I don’t want to speak to him.” 

That makes two of them. Gojo smiles at it. Them against the world, always. Since they were small. 

(It used to be three of them, but Gojo is willfully ignoring that fact. They’re still all in this bar together, twenty years later, anyway). 

 

—

 

Gojo leaves not-early, but not late, either. Shoko goes back much earlier than him, badly disguising a text from Utahime, and he’s left alone for a few hours before he decides he’s had enough. He doesn’t know how these kids do it- staying out til four and still drinking in their hotel rooms, after. 

The cool outside air is refreshing against his sticky skin and he exhales, feeling the air leave his lungs. The music is still booming inside. His head snaps to the side as he hears a shuffle next to him. 

The figure crouched on the floor stumbles to their feet with a jolt, “Satoru-!” 

Getou collides with him, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. Gojo steps back with a grunt. “What’re you doing?” 

“Congratulations, on the race today,” Getou says, in slurred English, and why are they speaking English to each other? That’s stupid. Gojo huffs, switching to Japanese, since Getou is clearly struggling slightly. 

“You could’ve said that earlier.” 

Getou shakes his head, leaning his whole bodyweight against Gojo, and Jesus he’s gotten heavier since 2014- 

“Get off-” 

Getou stumbles back, face crumpled. “I mean it. It was a good race.”

“You’re drunk,” 

Getou pouts, and really, Gojo also forgot how expressive he is when he’s like this. Inebriated. “I missed you.” 

Getou is lucky that Gojo is a strong man. Because if he were any less of either of those things, he’d either be sobbing on the floor or pushing Getou against the wall of the club. Maybe both. In that order. Instead, he just folds his arms across his chest. “You could watch me on the TV,” 

“Not the same,” Getou protests, and really, Gojo is done with this conversation. 

“I’m going back to the hotel,” and clearly, that’s a mistake, too, because Getou stumbles over his own feet as he tries to go back into the club. Gojo sighs, grabbing his arm and pulling him back out. “And you’re coming with me.” 

“No- Nanami, and Haibara-” 

“Are probably making out in a bathroom somewhere,” Gojo says, bitter, “come on, you’re done. You don’t need any more.” 

Getou goes limp and soft under his hold. Gojo holds his phone to his ear, speaks perfect English to the taxi operator and stands, waiting. Getou fumbles in his pockets and lights up a cigarette, balancing it between his teeth. 

“Since when did you smoke?” 

“Since Jujutsu Tech,” Getou laughs, “I’ve been smoking for ages,” 

“How’d I- how didn’t I know?” 

Getou shrugs, “you were a world champion, and you kept telling off Shoko, so I never told you,” 

“You- it’s bad for you. It makes you smell like shit, too.” You were an athlete. You were sabotaging yourself. 

“It made me less hungry all the time,” Getou laughs, and Gojo feels his blood run cold. 

“Right.” 

“Aw, come on, Satoru, it’s not a big deal.” The smell of smoke envelopes them, and Gojo feels ill with it. When Shoko smokes around him, she’s always careful to stand upwind, and blow away from him. Getou is too drunk to care, clearly. “I’m not racing anymore.” 

Gojo wonders if Getou would have even stayed for as long as he has. He wonders if they would’ve stayed teammates, or moved on and grown apart the exact same. 

Then the taxi driver shows up, and Gojo is bundling Getou into the back of the car, and they’re driving. The guy doesn’t recognise them, thank god, but Gojo still gives him a large tip when they get out and thanks him profusely. 

Getou promptly throws up all over the pavement outside the hotel, groaning. All his talkativeness has disappeared, suddenly, in favour of paling skin and hazy eyes. 

He manages to get him to the elevator, holding him upright, and roots around in his pockets for his keycard. Finds it. Escorts Getou to his room, practically throws him in his bed, and kneels down to unlace his shoes. Because he’s nothing if not a gentleman. 

As he pulls off the second shoe, Getou rolls over, hands tucked neatly under his cheek. He’s smiling. “Satoru.” Like he’s saying it for the first time. Reverent. “Thank you.” 

Gojo stands up, walks back out the room, opens the door to his own, sits on the bed, grabs a pillow, and screams into it. 

 

—

February 2003, Japan

 

Satoru is late, like usual, arriving to the track. He’s been driving in Japan, more, recently. Suguru has just turned thirteen, and this is his birthday present: a new (pre-loved) kart and entry to another series. He doesn’t get anything else: no wrapped presents and no big party, but it’s okay. 

When Suguru hears the telltale rumble of Satoru’s motorhome pulling into the carpark, he scrambles up from where he was sitting by the window, waiting. He’s down the steps of his motorhome before his dad can even ask where he’s going, running alongside the vehicle and rolling up and down on his heels as he waits. 

He doesn’t have to wait long: Satoru scrambles out of the passenger-side door, bounding towards him with breakneck speed and a brilliantly loud laugh that echoes in Suguru’s ears. He almost pushes him over with the force of his hug. Suguru’s face hurts from smiling. 

“I got a gameboy!” Satoru says, “wanna play?” 

He doesn’t wait for Suguru’s answer before he’s dragging him towards the motorhome. He thinks Satoru can read his mind, sometimes. 

 

—

 

Suguru wins the race. Satoru jumps on him on the podium and they smile wide for Suguru’s dad, who takes a million photos. By the end, Suguru is pushing his dad away, face flushed red in embarrassment, but his dad is hugging him and saying he’s so proud, so so proud. 

Satoru watches them with a funny, jealous look on his face. Suguru bumps shoulders with him as he peels away from his father, face hot and body rapidly cooling from the not-champagne. “You jealous of me winning?” 

Satoru huffs, pushing him off only to wrap his arms around Suguru’s shoulders like it’s an afterthought. “Nah, just wish my dad was here.” 

“Oh.” Suguru doesn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t think Satoru liked his dad very much. 

“Boys, do you want to go out for pizza?” Suguru’s dad calls, “we should celebrate.” 

Satoru looks at him and lights up like a Christmas tree, except it’s February and really, he has no right to be looking like that ever. “Yeah, can we?” 

Suguru’s dad looks back at them, and his face softens at the way Satoru is hanging off his son like a monkey. 

They get pizza. Satoru wolfs the whole thing down. Suguru gets sick of the texture midway through, and has it boxed up for later. When they get back to the motorhomes, they sit in bed together talking whilst Suguru chews diligently on the rest of it. He wouldn’t want his dad’s money to be wasted, after all.

 

—

 

April 2022, Australia

 

Gojo doesn’t see Getou again when he leaves the hotel in the morning. He piles his luggage into the back of his hired car, and sighs, fighting his headache. When he slides into the drivers’ seat, he presses his forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel. He’s not sure how much time passes before he fumbles around in his pockets to call Yuuji. 

It rings twice before he picks up. “Gojo?” 

Great, so he’s woken him up. “Are you still coming back to Monaco?” 

There’s a clatter on the other end of the line and a faint curse. “What time is it?” 

“Uh- ten.” Satoru says. “I can give you a lift, but the jet leaves at twelve,” 

“Okay, sure, gimme-” there’s more clattering, and honestly, sometimes Gojo wonders how this disaster of a kid has managed to get himself into a Grade One seat, “gimme ten, or something. Is Megumi coming, too?” 

“He’s meeting us there, I think Nanami and Haibara might be catching a lift, too.” Because, as Haibara puts it, with a grin on his face, it’s our private jet, Gojo!

“Ah- okay, cool, uh- he hasn’t. Um. Replied. To my texts.” 

“Megumi replies to your texts?” Gojo can’t help but smile, raising an eyebrow in the confined space of his car. Megumi is notorious for ignoring everyone. He’s a horrible communicator. 

“I mean, most of the time.” Yuuji says, breezy, not really understanding Gojo’s implication. Oh, sweet summer child. “I- just- can you find out if he’s- uhm. Mad at me?” 

Gojo has to suppress a laugh. Megumi, mad at Yuuji? Now that really is a funny joke. “Sure,” he says, instead, “now hurry up.” 

The line goes dead, and Gojo laughs into the emptiness of his car before dialling in Megumi’s number. 

Because he can fuck with them a bit. It’s fun. 

 

—

 

May 2003, Japan

 

Suguru can hardly believe it. He’s still shaking when he climbs out of his kart, still flexing his hands to check that they work. He’d done it! Won the last race of the series, and the championship with it - finally, proof that he was good. He’d beaten Satoru, and it wasn’t luck, or an engine failure, or a crash. No, it was skill. He’d raced him and won. 

Shoko pounces on him: she came third in the race. Satoru is right behind her, and they’re all hugging, because they get to share a podium - all three of them! - and it feels like a dream. 

Suguru has to give a real interview. He swallows his excitement, and gives practised answers to their questions. He tries to be polite. He watches Satoru give his interview, which is much less polite than his. The interviewer looks like she wants to bite his head off. Suguru tries not to laugh at it. 

And then Satoru turns back to him, eyes bright and smile wider. He grabs his hand, pulling him towards the podium, and Suguru’s heart - not for the first time, if he’s being really honest with himself - flutters in his chest. 

 

—

 

April 2022, Australia

 

It turns out that Megumi is definitively not mad at Yuuji. Nanami and Shoko sit a few rows back, talking quietly, when Haibara comes to sit next to Gojo, a grin on his face. He looks at Gojo, then at where Megumi is sitting opposite them, looking like a grumpy kitten. 

They both clap their hands over their mouths to suppress laughter as Megumi scowls. “Shut up,” 

Because Yuuji is lying on Megumi’s shoulder, both his arms limp in Megumi’s lap, and he’s drooling all over his shoulder, fast asleep. And more than that, Megumi is letting him.

“Young love,” Haibara grins, stretching his arms above his head, “nothing like it,” 

“Shut up,” Megumi hisses again, going impossibly red, “it’s not like that,” 

“That’s what he said about Nanami, too,” Gojo grins, poking a thumb at Haibara, who laughs. 

“True, I did say that,” Haibara grins, holding up his hand, where a band of gold encircles his finger, “now look at me!” 

“Stop showing off your wedding ring,” Megumi says, “he’s gonna wake up, and it’s not like that.” 

“Sure it isn’t, Megs.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Meg?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Yuuji stirs on Megumi’s shoulder, and he immediately goes stock still to try and prevent him from waking up. Haibara giggles at it. “You should just talk to him, Megs,” 

Megumi sends Haibara a withering gaze that says not you too , but doesn’t comment on it. “We’re fighting each other every week out on track, how do you think that’s gonna go.” 

“Well, technically, Yuuji is absolutely wiping the floor with you,” Gojo says, “I don’t think competing is gonna be an issue for you,” 

“You know what I mean. I mean, you and Getou-” Megumi cuts himself off, like he knows he’s made a mistake, “sorry.” 

“Nah, say it,” Gojo shrugs, “it doesn’t bother me.” 

“You two were way closer than we are, and it still ruined you. I don’t. If I go for it-” 

Gojo laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. “Well, first of all, we were teammates, which you aren’t. Box one-” 

“Check!” Haibara finishes. 

“And we weren’t dating.” 

Megumi frowns. “You- you weren’t?” 

“Okay, don’t act so surprised!” Gojo huffs, “no, we weren’t. So that’s box two,” 

“Check!” Haibara says, again. “You won’t end up like them,” he tacks on, “Gojo and Getou were- kinda weird, honestly.” 

“Hey-!” Gojo laughs, “at least talk about me like I’m here.” 

Haibara is still friends with Getou. They still talk. Gojo never asks him about him. It’s an unwritten rule. He kind of wants to throw caution to the wind and break it, after last night.

“I-” Megumi looks puzzled, “you seriously weren’t dating?” 

Haibara laughs, and Gojo feels like he’s being made fun of, now, “no! We weren’t!” 

Haibara laughs again, and this time, Yuuji wakes up, murmuring, “what’re you laughing about?” 

Haibara grins. “Megumi thinks that Gojo and Getou were dating!” 

Yuuji sits bolt upright at that, “wait, you werent?!” 

Haibara almost cries from laughing so hard. 

 

—

 

Eventually, when everyone else is asleep, sprawled out across couches and snoring, Gojo goes to find Nanami. Neither of them have ever been able to sleep on planes. 

(Gojo used to be able to, back when he was younger.)

“Hey,” Gojo says, conversational, trying to keep things light. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” Nanami says, not looking up from his phone. He’s reading some lengthy article: Gojo thinks it might be a race report from a rival team. 

“What did you talk to Getou about, at the party?” 

Nanami raises an eyebrow, and immediately locks his phone. “You’ve never been interested before,” 

“Well, I took him back to the hotel at the end of the night, so.” Gojo sighs, throwing himself down on the chair opposite. Nanami squints at him. “Not like that. Like- he was wasted, and I took him back and took his shoes off because he couldn’t walk.” 

There’s a sigh. Gojo doesn’t see Nanami’s face, because he refuses to look. But still, he can hear the way he pulls his hand through his blonde hair when he speaks. “I don’t remember. He congratulated me on the podium, mostly. Said it was nice to see me back there after a season of shit results.” 

That’s not really what Gojo wanted to hear. But he doesn’t know what he actually wanted to hear, either. “Cool.” 

“What’d he say to you?” Nanami says, and it’s cautious in only the way Nanami is. He thinks that if any other driver were his teammate for five years, they’d be best friends. But it’s Nanami, and he was replacing Getou after a shitstorm of a 2013 and 2014, and they were both slightly standoffish with each other. So now their relationship is- this. 

“He told me well done for the win.” He also told me he’d been smoking all this time to quell his appetite, and that he missed seeing me race . But those things are too difficult to comprehend, or explain, so Gojo doesn’t say them to Nanami. Maybe he’ll tell Shoko about it. 

(He won’t.)

“Right.” Nanami says, and Gojo can still feel him staring. “Is it still-” 

“Yeah.” Gojo says. They don’t say anything else to each other. Nanami goes back to his article, and Gojo goes back to looking out the window. 

 

—

 

They touch down in Monaco, say their goodbyes, and it’s only when Gojo flicks his phone off airplane mode that he sees it. 

Suguru <3 <3 <3 ICE : sorry for last night. thank you for getting me back. 

He swallows and pockets his phone. He’ll ignore that, thank you very much. 

Notes:

so sukuna mention... kenjaku mention.. i am going insane. is everyone working out the dual narrative by now ??? :))))))
had to include the shoey in australia for DR3/daniel ricciardo/king of the late breakers. hope u have a good race in las vegas, mate.
also, the brazil gp... they (ferrari) massacred my boy (leclerc). tifosi are truly god's strongest soldiers (i dont have much forza ferrari left, at this point)
the track in this chapter is the Albert Park Circuit! again, don't squint too hard at the karting info in this fic, it isn't accurate at all, lol!
pls kudos and comment so i can feed my family <3

Chapter 4: iv - flat spot

Summary:

Flat Spot. Noun. The term given to the area of a tyre that is worn heavily on one spot after a moment of extreme braking or in the course of a spin. This ruins its handling, often causing severe vibration, and may force a driver to pit for a replacement set of tyres.

Notes:

no individual warnings from now on in beginning notes as i feel they are going to start becoming incredibly spoilery from here on out. warnings in end notes for people who think they need them, but everything is tagged.

pls don't pay too close attention to the grade 4 (f4) format. it's accurate to british f4 which is easiest to find info on, but i dont know if its accurate to japanese f4 100%.

enjoy!

June 2003, Monaco

 

After begging and pleading with his parents, Suguru convinces them to let him go with Gojo to Europe. They’re going to Monaco, to see the Grand Prix, which has him buzzing out of his skin. It’s one of the best races ever. 

Well. The racing itself isn’t good, exactly. It’s a narrow street circuit, and overtaking is hard, so there’s not much on track action. But it means there’s loads of pressure in qualifying on Saturday, and honestly, no one goes to Monaco for the racing. 

All the drivers live there, and all the celebrities go, and there’s boats and open water and sunshine, and Suguru can’t wait. 

They fly in on Thursday, and Suguru climbs into Satoru’s bed with him to talk even though they have separate beds. Satoru tells him tall stories about Monaco, and France, and Italy until they fall asleep, legs tangled on top of the sheets. 

Even when they wake up like that, Satoru doesn’t seem to mind. 

They get breakfast together, and there’s nice bread and pastries, and Suguru feels like he’s floating. 

Yaga is there, too, and this time he can talk to him without floundering or saying stupid things. He doesn’t ask for a signed cap. Yaga knows his name, now. And he knows Yaga, like for real, and not just as a kid who likes watching him drive. 

Him and Satoru get to walk the track. The Grade One track, with all its turns, and the tunnel, and the buildings towering high around them. He’s sure he walks the whole way around it with his mouth hanging open, because he can’t believe he’s here.

Even better, Yaga walks the track with them, and points out places where he crashed, or overtook, or did something equally cool. If Suguru closes his eyes, he can almost imagine it in real time. 

He can’t believe he’s here!

 

—

 

“Why’d you bring me?” Suguru whispers into the darkness of their hotel room. It’s been bugging him recently. Why not Shoko, or any of his European friends? 

“You’re my best friend,” Satoru says, like it’s simple. 

“But- we don’t see each other as often as you see people here, right?” 

Satoru frowns. The lines of his face are accentuated by the pale moonlight. “But you’re still my best friend. You don’t wanna be my friend ‘cause I’m Gojo, or ‘cause of my dad, like- you didn’t know who I was,” 

“Do people only wanna be friends with you ‘cause of that? You’re cool.” 

Satoru nods. “Even Shoko is a bit like that. Like, she likes me, and she’s cool, but her mom definitely wants her to be friends with me so she can be friends with my dad.”

“That’s not true…” Suguru trails off as he says it, because it starts to feel like a lie before he even finishes the sentence. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Satoru says, “I don’t mind. I just want you to be around all the time. And my dad said I could bring anyone I wanted,” 

“Y’know, Shoko said that her mom wanted her to marry you,” Suguru wrinkles his nose as he says it. It’s funny. “Isn’t that crazy?” 

Satoru giggles. “Yeah, I’d never marry Shoko. Girls are-” he cuts himself off, and makes a blegh sound, sticking his tongue out. Suguru laughs.

“Yeah,” 

 

—

 

“It’s lights out and away we go!” 

Suguru cheers as the cars roar beneath them, whilst Satoru laughs, jumping up and down on the railings where they’re watching. 

Kenjaku is on pole, Sukuna is in P2. All eyes are on them, again, for another championship battle. Barely any of the cars come close to the Haein. Satoru asks Yaga who he thinks will win. 

“Kenjaku, this year,” he says, with a wink. Suguru grins at him. 

The cars roar as they pass the pitlane, and the crowd cheers. The commentator booms in Suguru’s ears: “Sukuna, trying to get past on the straight, sending it down the outside into turn one, and- oh my god!” 

The cars collide, and they both spin. Immediately, Yaga stands from his chair, and Suguru and Satoru try to peer further over the balcony to see what’s happening- what’s going on-

But the crowd is quiet. With an ugly, sick sort of silence. 

One of the cars is smoking. It’s in the barriers. The wheels aren’t attached anymore. The whole side is mangled. The driver is sitting on the hood, swinging his legs out. 

Then there’s the other two cars, smoking and half on fire in the wall. One car has T-boned the other. The driver against the wall is motionless, and there’s another figure- wait, that’s Kenjaku - running over, gesturing wildly with his arms at stewards down on the track. Suguru feels Yaga’s figure lean over them, and hears him swallow. 

“Boys, I don’t think you should look. Come on, let’s go,” 

“We need to wait for him to get out!” Suguru says, trying to stay where he is. 

“Suguru, we’re going.”

“What about the race?” Satoru frowns. “They’ve still got twenty laps to go,” 

“The race is over.” Yaga says, with a kind of finality that finally makes it all click. He swallows, and looks down at the car, where Kenjaku is desperately trying to get Sukuna out, but the stewards are pulling him back. 

There’s blood on the white of the car. He can see it now. He lets Yaga tug him away from the viewing platform. 

 

—

 

Breaking: Ryomen Sukuna dies following fatal collision with teammate

Written by Carol Richards, July 2003

 

In a shock accident, six-time world champion Ryomen Sukuna has died following an accident that saw him spin out at high speed into a barrier, then be collided with by another driver at the Monaco Grand Prix. The race did not continue after the collision. 

Sukuna was airlifted to hospital, and placed on life support, but after weeks of intervention, his family has now confirmed that he has been pronounced dead. Both of the drivers involved in the collision have been cleared of all responsibility, and no action will be taken against them.

Fellow drivers have been outspoken in their support for his family, and Grade One mourns the loss of one of its brightest stars. 

 

—

 

April 2022, Italy

 

Imola is sort of a home race for Gojo. He races under the Italian flag, because the Italian sponsorship opportunities were more lucrative, and he was a dual citizen until he was twenty and he had to give up his Japanese passport: despite both of his parents being Japanese, he was born here. But on a personal level, he doesn’t consider Italy home. His Italian is fine: he still gives interviews in the language fairly regularly and he waves at the fans. But all of his best childhood memories are in Japan, karting with Suguru and Shoko, and he wishes Suzuka loved him like they loved Getou, back when he raced. 

The way Suzuka loves Yuuji, now. 

It’s funny, really, that Getou’s ended up managing an Italian team, whilst Gojo drives at a Japanese one. Like a neat little swap. 

But anyway, home races are more busy for drivers. There’s more demand for their presence, for interviews, for smiles and ciao piacere’ s. But he supposes it could be worse. His home race is like ill-fitted socks, but at least he has one. Nanami races under the Danish flag, and they never race there, so he doesn’t get to experience a home crowd. Ever. 

Really, it’s quite sad. But he supposes there’s no extra pressure. Italy is on the calendar twice this year. The second time is a true homecoming: Monza, the temple of speed, and the birthplace of Keicho. 

And Gojo likes the track at Monza a lot better, anyway. It’s one of his favourites, with the best memories attached to it. 

But they’re still in Italy now, which means Gojo keeps clasping hands and signing things and having conversations in Italian. Piacere, piacere, piacere. 

The word tastes funny on his tongue by the time the afternoon rolls around, and Shoko is dragging him into the garage, giving him a welcome interlude. She speaks in Japanese to him, and it feels so nice to get back into a language he knows and uses all the time. 

 

—

 

 

The first alarm bell really should be that him and Megumi are in the same pre-race press conference. But it doesn’t really bother Gojo at the time Yaga tells him: it’s rare to pair up drivers from the same team, but it still happens often enough that it doesn’t raise any alarm bells. 

They’re with Mai (ew) and Nanami, which, again, although Gojo isn’t Mai’s biggest fan, is fine. They sit down, microphones beside them, and, as usual when Nanami is involved, Haibara isn’t hosting. Instead, it’s someone Gojo doesn’t recognise sat across from them, blank-faced as he announces their names, left to right. 

To balance out the colours on the couch, Megumi and Gojo sit on opposite ends. Also because Megumi would never be caught dead showing any type of affection to Gojo. So he ends up with Nanami beside him, and that’s fine. Good, even. 

The opening questions are routine, expected. Nanami, how do Sengoku plan to continue their momentum here in Imola? Mai, how is the partnership with your new teammate? Megumi, you’re getting closer to Satoru in qualifying - how are you feeling in the cockpit after a few races? 

Just as Gojo thinks he’s being let off easy, not answering any questions at all, a reporter says his name. He sits up, smiling and pressing his fingers around the microphone. 

“When you were a rookie, in 2008, you were teammates with Toji Fushiguro, who, of course is Megumi’s father. You had a famously difficult relationship with him until you departed for Jujutsu Technical Racing in 2010, and then it, at times, was worse. What’s it like being the senior teammate to his son, now? Do you get on or is the relationship like it was with Toji?” 

Gojo blinks. Then he blinks again, frowning and flexing his fingers around the microphone, trying to clear his throat. Because nobody has asked a single question about Toji since 2015, when he retired, humiliated, and he’s blacklisted from the paddock, and there’s one rule that all reporters follow:

Do Not Ask Satoru Gojo about Toji Fushiguro. Ever. Never Ever. Point fucking blank. 

In fact, don’t ask anyone about him. 

So, this reporter might be new. Not accustomed to the unspoken rules. Whatever. 

He risks a glance at Megumi, who looks as pale as a sheet. Great. “Megumi’s great. Nothing like his father, who was an awful, dangerous racer who-” 

“Toji Fushiguro is not my father,” Megumi blurts, then. His face is red as he says it and he already seems to regret it as soon as the words leave his mouth. “I mean, he is, but-” he takes a deep, steadying breath, and sets his jaw to look more like himself. “I’ve not seen him since I was like, ten. He has no right to me, and my career is in no way related to his, and I never want to be compared to him ever again. My mom was also a racing driver, and everyone seems to forget that.” 

Good job, kid , Gojo thinks. 

Gojo swears someone could hear a pin drop for a moment, and then every pen in the small studio starts to scribble on paper at the same time. And then it dawns that actually, they might have inadvertently created quite a big headline. 

 

—

 

Megumi, understandably, doesn’t want to talk to anyone for the rest of the day. He’s locked himself in his drivers’ room, to be alone. When Gojo stands outside, knuckles hovering over the wood, he can just about make out Toto’s panting. There’s nothing else. 

He doesn’t barge in. He doesn’t try and tear down the walls between them like he usually does. Toji is a sensitive subject for- well, most of the drivers on the grid. Even if they didn’t race with him, which is most of the drivers, now. His presence was all-encompassing. People still talk about him now, his impact on the sport, whatever. 

Gojo hates him. Present tense. Even though he ran away when he retired and no one has seen him since. 

He supposes retired is a strong word- like Toji had a choice in leaving. But to the public, it was a retirement, so. That’s what they have to refer to it as. 

Absentmindedly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket to call Yuuji, and lets it ring a few times before he realises that Yuuji definitely has a ton more press commitments today, like he does, and Yaga really won’t be of much help at all. He’ll probably make it worse, banging on about damage control and joint statements and blah blah blah. 

Yes, it’s his job as a team principal. No, Gojo doesn’t think it’s fair to push him further into the spotlight to placate the higher-ups need for damage control. Because the reasons why Toji left the sport were never made public, they have to treat his name with respect in the press. Which is stupid. 

His finger hovers over Getou’s contact. He really needs to change his name on his phone. The hearts seem stupid, now, but he hadn’t had the heart to get rid of them seven years ago. He stares for a moment, presses the call button and finds he doesn’t have the heart now either. 

It rings twice before Getou picks up, his voice strained and sounding pissed off, in Japanese,  “hello, I’m trying to work, mom, could I call you back?” 

“Uh. Hi.” Satoru replies, dumbly. Did he not look at the contact, or something, when he picked up? He was honestly expecting it to go to voicemail. Now he doesn’t really know what to say. 

“Oh, Satoru?” Getou says, immediately much more softly, and Gojo hears the way that he pulls the phone away from his ear and then replaces it. He can hear the whir of the garage in the background. 

“Why did you think it was your mom?” 

“I had my phone on do not disturb,” Getou says, absentmindedly, and Gojo’s heart stops. I’ve been set to go through your do not disturb this entire time? “So I- listen, I heard about that reporter, earlier,” 

The garage sounds are getting quieter through the speakers. Like Getou’s moving away from the garage, to somewhere quieter. It feels like a peace offering: Gojo knows his old friend hated Toji just as much as he did. Probably even more, if Gojo’s being honest with himself. He had way more reason to hate him. 

“It’s fine,” Gojo says, rather dumbly, and at the same time, Getou blurts out: 

“Is Megumi okay? He was out of line, asking that in front of him.”

Getou is so close to caring about him and yet so so far from it. But he does what he knows best, and laughs: “I thought you might ask if I was okay for a second! Never mind, yeah, Megumi’s doing shit but he’ll be fine,” 

“I know you’re not okay, Satoru, I don’t need to ask,” Getou huffs over the line, “but you do not want to talk. You’ve never wanted to talk about- about him before.” 

Gojo’s brain snags on the way that Getou still knows him. After seven-going-on-eight years of no contact. Then, as he pulls away from that thought, he lands on a new one: you’ve never wanted to talk about him before. 

Because Gojo had only ever deflected about Toji, about Amanai, about Haibara. They’d never had a conversation about it. Gojo thought Getou didn’t want to talk about it either. Really. He didn’t. But Getou’s here, on the phone, implying he did want to talk about it, and- 

Getou still can’t say Toji’s name. 

“I guess not.” 

“Why did you call me?” 

That’s the kicker, isn’t it? He wanted to hear his voice. The voice of the only person on planet earth who understands the way he hates him. Back then, it was us, alone at the centre of it. You understand in a way that no one else can, not even Haibara, not even Amanai. 

“How many media commitments does Yuuji have today?” 

“The press conference- and the fan zone, later, but- Satoru, what’s this got to do-” 

“Send Yuuji to check on Megumi, please. Tell him he can take Nobara with him, too, but I think Megumi needs someone who’s not-” not a world champion, not a cheap attempt at a father figure, not someone as emotionally inept. Someone who understands, instead of pretending to. “Me.” He finishes, swallowing around the words. 

He can hear Getou’s raised eyebrows without seeing him. The silence stretches. Almost enough to fill the gap of seven years. Gojo rambles to fill it, “but I probably shouldn’t even be calling you, since you’re public enemy number one and all, so goodbye-” 

“I didn’t know you could be so caring, Satoru,” Getou says back, sarcastic and bitter and surprised all rolled into one, and Gojo hangs up. 

 

—

 

Transcript from Team Principals’ Press Conference - Pre-Race, Masamichi Yaga (Jujutsu Technical Racing) & Suguru Getou (Scuderia Keicho) - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (GRACE MACK - Aerosport Weekly): Question to Suguru, please, how are you settling into your new role? Has it been challenging for you, and is it strange that your biggest competition comes from a team you used to drive for and in particular, from a driver who used to be your teammate and closest competition when you were driving on the grid?

SUGURU GETOU : [Laughs] Ha, well if I spoke about the challenges I’d be giving away my weaknesses, wouldn’t I? Jokes aside, I’ve settled in well and the role suits me. We have two incredible drivers this year, and I’ve inherited a well-oiled team that just needs polishing. In terms of competition, I don’t think it’s strange. It would be stranger if my competition at any point in my life wasn’t Satoru, I think. In karting, in grade one, and now. He’s talented, and he has a good car, and it will always be him, I think. 

Q: As a follow-up, for Yaga, is it strange to see your ex-driver back on the grid, now, as your big competition?

MASAMICHI YAGA : [to Getou] Ha, do you think so? Yes, well, of course it’s strange. I’ve known this kid since he was eleven- don’t scoff at me, Getou- and he was my driver, for so many of the years that I knew him. And with the way things ended- prematurely- I don’t think many of us would have put money on him rejoining the grid in any way. Regardless, we appreciate having him back on the grid, even if he’s on a different team, now. We missed him almost as much as the fans did. 

SG : [To Yaga] I still have that signed cap from the first time we met. It’s funny, how things have panned out. 

YM : Yes. 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Grade One Daily): Question for both: considering pre-season testing, the surprise of the last race was the race pace and qualifying positions of the Sengokus. How worried about them are you in terms of a championship battle?

YH : Getou, you start?

SG : As a team, we have to consider all possibilities, but our work has to be focussed on closing the gap to the teams in front, not looking behind us. JTR have built a better car in these new regulations, undoubtedly. But of course the progression of the Sengoku is interesting, and I really rate Nanami as a driver. I believe he was wasted in his years at JTR, and has a lot more to give as a number one driver for a team. 

YM : Of course, we will be watching both teams’ development behind us, but Keicho definitely have the edge at the moment, and we will focus on winning races ourselves instead of beating other teams. 

Q (JULES BROOK - Grade Racing Journal): Question to Yaga, in an earlier press conference, your driver Megumi Fushiguro answered a question directed to Satoru Gojo about his father, Toji. He’s since been removed from all media proceedings for the rest of the day- what do you think it is about Toji Fushiguro that shakes the paddock?

YM : Well-

SG : [to Masamichi] Sorry to cut over you, Yaga, and I’ll let you answer in a moment if you want to, but- listen, I know this is probably not your fault, and you have a quota, but it is incredibly disrespectful and disingenuous to ask questions about Megumi’s father to us in particular, and definitely directing them at Satoru, trying to start conflicts when the relationship between Megumi and him is well-documented and pleasant, going back to when Fushiguro was still in karting divisions. And asking questions to Satoru about him also- in front of his son, is out of line. 

YM : [coughs] I agree. But Megumi’s absence from media duties is nothing about that and he just needs some time to rest. He is not feeling well and his blood sugar was unstable. We are working to correct it and get him feeling his best again for free practice tomorrow. 

Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport): Uh- sorry- so. Question for Suguru, is it awkward competing against your good friend again, after all these years? 

SG : Just to clarify, you mean Satoru? 

Q: Yes. 

SG : Ah, well that’s easy, because we’re not friends. Haven’t been since I left the team. 

 

—

 

Megumi, as expected, is back in the car, and his usual surly self for free practice one on friday morning. Gojo doesn’t talk to him about it, because that’s not what their relationship is. They talk about racing. Megumi asks for hos advice on the car and gives his own feedback on the tyres, or the way that the tyre providers fuck them over at tracks with their incompetence and inability to choose the correct compounds. 

Gojo has invested hugely in Megumi’s career on a personal level. That’s no secret. Back when Toji disappeared off the face of the earth, leaving behind two kids without a family, Gojo had taken notice. Especially when Tsumiki Fushiguro showed up at his doorstep, eyes wild and angry, demanding to know why he’d driven their dad away. 

And Gojo had, at the time, been more than a little drunk, after decidedly not drinking through the entirety of the 2015 season, and not touching a drop during the celebrations that followed when he’d won his third world championship. But he’d gotten back to Monaco, alone, without Getou, for the second time in as many years, and he’d just wanted to forget who he was for a while. For two weeks, maybe, until his media duties and his training resumed. Tsumiki hadn’t been having any of that, though. 

At five-foot-five, every inch of it full with rage, she’d pulled a tired-looking Megumi into his flat with her, and started shouting about how she’d have to get a job, and drop out of school, and send Megumi away, her little brother, and how Gojo had done all this because their father had retired and disappeared after being humiliated by him on the racetrack. 

Gojo remembers pinching his eyebrows, sending them towards a spare bedroom that used to be Getou’s (but not really, because when he stayed over, he never used it) and told her they’d talk in the morning. 

At the time, his desire to help Tsumiki was fuelled by guilt. With some spare cash, he bought them a flat, and gave her his number. Paying child support to the kids of a guy he hated wasn’t on his bingo card, but it was how things went, sometimes. 

And then there was a karting race in France. The last one that Toji had paid for Megumi to race in. Curiosity killed the cat, and Gojo went, telling himself it was to check up on Tsumiki. He wore a mask and sunglasses and a Keicho cap, old and faded from Yaga’s racing days, and hid from fans. 

Tsumiki had confessed to him that weekend that she was considering sending Megumi back to the Zenins to race. It was clear her little brother had potential, she said, and she wanted to see him achieve it. 

Gojo had seen him race, and decided he didn’t want the kid to have to go to the Zenins just to drive. They had- well, questionable methods of teaching at best. At worst, some of the stories to come out of the dynasty have been just- retellings of abuse. Gojo knew his own family wasn’t much better, filled with cold glances and a lack of warmth, but something had made his heart tug. 

He’d made Tsumiki promise to not tell Megumi, but that he’d pay for the karting. All of it. Later, he made the personal recommendation that got Megumi into the Jujutsu Technical Drivers’ Academy, along with reccomending Yuuji to Sengoku, who had shown up brand new on the karting scene at thirteen, immediately started getting podiums, and latched onto Megumi like one of those snails that clean glass in fish tanks. 

Apparently he’d had something to do with Kenjaku’s new interest in funding junior drivers, at the time. Despite the fact that since Sukuna’s accident in 2003, he’d never stepped foot on a race track. Regardless, Gojo liked the kid. And he was undeniably talented, turning heads by beating much, much more experienced drivers with ease. 

So, they have history, Megumi and him. Megumi wouldn’t be racing if it weren’t for Gojo, and Gojo is sure he would’ve just retired after 2015 if it weren’t for two kids showing up on his doorstep and demanding his attention. 

But it’s not the kind of history that means they talk about their feelings. It would probably be more helpful, if Megumi wanted to talk. Not to bottle it up, or whatever. But Gojo doesn’t know how to push people without pushing them away, so instead he’ll send Yuuji, or Nobara, or someone else who does know. Or, someone who Megumi will tolerate pushing from. 

He watches as Megumi climbs into his car on the other side of the garage. Someone hands him his helmet, and then he remembers that he also has a job to do. 

 

—

 

In free practice three, a matter of hours before qualifying, Megumi loses control of the car and dives into the barriers at high speed. It causes a yellow flag, debris flying everywhere, and Gojo is in the garage at the time, and gets to listen first hand to all the mechanics cry out with exasperation. 

He looks across to the pitwall, seeing Kamo talking urgently down his microphone. Trying to get Megumi to respond, no doubt. He sees the moment that the pitwall crew relaxes: the slump in their shoulders, the sighs of relief. He presses a button on his steering wheel and asks Shoko, “is he out of the car?”

“Yes, he’s out. Yellow flags out on track, we’re gonna delay sending you out.” 

“Copy.” 

 

—

 

As they walk into the debrief, Gojo pats Megumi on the shoulder and laughs, “you’ve given them quite the repair job, kid.” 

Megumi just shrugs him off. Gojo stalls, and wonders how he’s done the wrong thing again. 

 

—

 

May 2004, Japan

 

Suguru moves up an age class in karting again when he turns fourteen. Satoru, meanwhile, has been moved up even further, into Grade Four. Into real Grade Racing. Capital letters and all. Grade Four is a bit weird, compared to the other grades, because there’s multiple series across the world with the title. It’s a bit like national championships, Suguru thinks. 

He’s not good enough for Grade Four, yet. In a few years, he might be. But it’s weird for him. 

Because Grade Racing (with the capital letters to prove its importance) is a lot more expensive than karting. A season of racing in Grade Four costs over four million yen, and Suguru’s family don’t have that kind of money. They’re struggling to pay for the karting costs, let alone the costs of real racing. He doesn’t want to hurt his family, anymore. He’s still doing well at school. Maths is one of his favourite subjects. Maybe he can be an engineer, in the future, instead of a driver. He’d still get to travel and see Satoru all the time. 

Another smaller part of him really wants to fight to stay racing. He loves driving. He’s good at it. He can beat Satoru, sometimes. 

But to race in Grade Four, he needs sponsorships, and despite being good enough for it, he’s not yet exceptional enough to be paid for by another person or company. So, he’s stuck to karting. 

Grade Four is also a bit of an outlier to the other Grade series because it doesn’t share any dates or race venues with Grade One. It does, however, share two dates with the karting series Shoko and Suguru are entered in, so they get to meet up, finally, after a full summer of texting and calling and begging for more phone credits. 

It’s only Satoru’s second race in Grade Four. Gojo travels with his team, now, in a motorhome surrounded by engineers and team personnel, but he comes to see them anyway, running to the steps, grabbing Suguru in a bone-crushing hug that has both of them laughing.

 People look at them weirdly for it, now. Like, the Grade Four drivers are all much older than them, and think they’re being childish. But Suguru feels smug about it. Yeah, Gojo Satoru is my best friend. He’s going to drive in Grade One, and he’s talented and all anyone ever talks about, and he is my best friend. 

Shoko jumps on top of both of them, too, and then they get to have dinner together, and Louisa lets the three of them cook themselves barbecue and roast s’mores in the dying Spring light. Suguru doesn’t eat much of the meat - he hates the texture of gristle. Satoru doesn’t, so Suguru eats what he wants and Satoru eats the rest. 

Satoru moans over a s’more, head tilting back, “my dad says I can’t eat so many sweets anymore, but these are so good,” 

“Why is a marshmallow making you sound like that,” Shoko says, teasing, incredulous, with her mouth full. 

“It’s good!” Gojo protests, still with marshmallow sticking to his teeth. Suguru pushes at his shoulder and tells him to stop talking with his mouth full. He gets a glare in return. “I haven’t been allowed to eat sweets since I got into Grade Four, let me have this,” he says. 

“Is your dad saying you can’t?” Shoko says. 

Gojo shrugs. “My dad doesn’t care about specifics, he just wants me to win. I just have to stay a certain weight the whole season for the car, or something, so I have to eat healthy and do all these weird exercises.” He sticks his tongue out and makes a blegh noise, “I hate it.” 

“You should quit, then,” Shoko grins. She’s clearly teasing. 

“No way! I love racing,” Satoru huffs, “but the other stuff feels stupid, sometimes.” 

“It’s not stupid if it means you get to race,” Suguru shrugs. He’s not sure if all of it is worth it, yet, but he knows how much a career in racing means to Satoru. He’s one of the youngest drivers signed to Grade Four in years. 

“How’s your teammate?” Shoko asks, and Gojo groans again. 

“She hates me! I’ve tried to be nice, I swear! But she hates me!” 

“She?” Shoko grins, lighting up slightly, “she’s a girl?” 

“Yeah, and it makes her more annoying,” 

“Don’t be sexist, Satoru,” Suguru chips in, “just tell her what you told me.” 

“You already knew about his teammate?” Shoko’s mouth drops open, and she’s looking at him indignantly. “Why didn’t you tell me, Satoru?” 

“I’m telling you now!” Exclaiming, Satoru finally swallows his s’more. “Anyway, it’s not ‘cause she’s a girl. She’s a really good racer, and everything. She just doesn’t wanna talk to me! And it’s not like I’m a little kid, or anything, I’m only like, three years younger than her-”

“She’s seventeen?” Shoko exclaims, stars in her eyes. Because there are less girls in Grade racing than boys, and she always says finding another girl is exciting. 

“I think she’s sixteen, actually.” Gojo says, “maybe she’s only two years older,” 

“Can we meet her?” 

 

—

 

The next day, they both get to watch Gojo race for the first time. Well - not exactly race, since on Saturday, Satoru has to do qualifying first. Twenty minutes of qualifying determines the grid positions for three races, the first of which is in the afternoon, after Shoko and Suguru are done racing. Then the second race is in the morning on Sunday, followed by Shoko and Suguru’s second set of racing, then Satoru’s third and final race. 

They have passes to go down to the garages, where they stand as far out of the way as possible. They do, however, meet Satoru’s teammate. 

Utahime Iori. 

She’s sixteen, and she leans over the data with a practised ease, hand on her hip. She’s older, and the shape of her body isn’t hidden well by the race suit: she has hips and curves that Shoko doesn’t, and Shoko stares at her like she wants to be her. Honestly, even Getou wants to be her a little, so he gets it. 

Her long dark hair is in pigtails, and she looks perfectly focused and determined and everything a driver should be. 

Suguru gets why she hates Gojo, because he’s somewhere else, hands clasped together behind his head, making faces at an engineer and glancing around, distracted. Suguru gets it, because Satoru behaves like that and still beats her on the track. 

Satoru turns and gives Suguru a little wave. His heart skips half a beat before he wills himself to smile back at him. 

 

—

 

Satoru wins the last race on Sunday. Without him in the same series, Suguru is utterly dominant in his heats and races, never coming off the podium the whole weekend. 

And yet, Satoru’s win is the most exciting thing of all, because they run to the pitwall and scream as his car crosses the line, and the team takes a real photo, with everyone, and the pit boards reading CONGRATS GOJO P1 and UTAHIME P5 , and everyone is smiling and cheering and running around in the pitlane. 

Gojo sneaks him a sip of real champagne that day, stolen from the team engineers, giddy with success, and whispers, “this is what it’s gonna be like in Grade One, when we race together,” 

Suguru doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he doesn’t think he’ll make it that far.

 

 —

 

April 2022, Italy

 

The mechanics only just get Megumi’s car ready for qualifying. It’s a near thing: they put down the spanners about twenty minutes before. 

The first qualifying session goes fine: they both pull through easily with flying colours. Qualifying two sees Gojo in P5 and Megumi in P7, but impeding incidents from the Keicho drivers caused those poor results, and they’re hopeful for a good result. For a front row start.  

In his last flying lap of qualifying three, Megumi spins out into the barriers again. Gojo, meanwhile, finishes on pole. 

 

—

 

Transcript for post-qualifying interview with Megumi Fushiguro, Grade One TV, Emilia Romanga Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: Hard luck, Megumi. It all looked to be quite good out there until Q3, what happened?

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO : Uh. Honestly, I’m not sure. I lost control there in free practice, too, and I just need to apologise to the mechanics this weekend, I think. I don’t know what keeps going wrong. 

Q: Any issues with the car after yesterday? 

MF : We haven’t looked over the data, but no. Likely just a rookie mistake from me. 

Q: Earlier in the week, Yaga mentioned you were struggling with blood sugar regulation and had the afternoon off media duties because of this. Is it still causing you trouble?

MF : Honestly, no. I’ve made a big mistake on track today and I’m starting P10 when I should be up with my teammate in the top five. Now I’ve got the job of trying to pull through tomorrow and secure good points. 

Q: Some people have been suggesting that the comparisons to your father and the questions about him have both you and your teammate shaken up. Is that what’s causing these performances in you?

MF : No. It’s not. And I’d appreciate not being asked that. 

 

—

 

Gojo and Megumi’s drivers’ rooms aren’t next to each other, but they’re close enough. When Gojo is walking back to his, after the interviews and the press conference and the other media duties, he hears multiple voices from Megumi’s room. Call him nosy all you like, but he finds his footsteps stalling, and he stops to listen. 

“It’s one bad session.” That’s Yuuji’s voice. In Megumi’s drivers’ room. And under any other circumstance, Gojo would bust the door open and make a bunch of inappropriate jokes at them because everyone knows why you’d go to another driver’s motorhome after a session, and it’s not for something either of them should be doing. 

“I never had this in grade two,” Megumi whisper-shouts back, and Gojo can imagine the way he hisses out the words through clenched teeth. 

“Grade two is slower,” Yuuji says, like it’s obvious, and Megumi groans. 

“Yeah, but I never had this,” he says, “all the time, they’re comparing me to Gojo, as if he doesn’t have six world championships and a ton of experience.” 

“Who’s they? The team?” Yuuji sounds incredibly put out on Megumi’s behalf, which is sweet. “Because they shouldn’t be-” 

“No, no, the team’s fine, they just expect me to not shunt the car into the wall, which I’ve done twice.” Megumi sighs, “I mean, the media, the journalists. You’ve heard the questions. People online.” 

“They don’t matter. If your team is happy with you, then you’re fine.” 

“They’re not happy with me. I’ve caused millions in damages,” Megumi carries on, “and I’m going to have to fight to bring home points tomorrow.” 

“You’ll be fine. It’s your first season. They’d rather you were fast and made mistakes than you being slow.” 

Gojo smiles, because Yuuji’s right. He wanders away, to get changed for the debrief. 

 

—

 

Gojo leads from pole, all the way until lap fifty-nine. The car goes dead beneath him, and he can’t get beyond fifth gear, and he’s willing the car forward but it won’t go. Then, the nail in the coffin: “Satoru, there’s a hydraulics failure, you need to pull up the car.” 

“To the pits?” 

“No. It’s unsafe, the power steering could fail, pull over and get out, please.” 

So that’s the end of his race. He sits on top of his car and watches everyone else zoom past, yellow flags waving in his peripheral. 

Not finishing a race never gets easier, no matter how long Gojo spends in the sport. Watching the cars fly by invokes a strange sort of ache in his chest, no matter the weekend.

The ride back to the pitwall isn’t too long, and soon Gojo is standing there dumbly, being consoled by Yaga and listening to Kamo coaching Megumi. 

“What position is he in?” He asks Shoko, as the race restarts for the last three laps. 

“P4.” She says. Gojo whistles lowly in response. 

“Good recovery,” 

“Yeah, he’s driven well,” Yaga adds on, “he should be proud of today,” 

Megumi finishes in P4, holding his position behind Yuuji, Nanami, and Yuuta, in that order. Yuuji jumps up and down on the podium and looks elated. Gojo can’t blame him: with a single DNF, the tides have been turned in the championship. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FOUR - TOP TEN

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	76
2	Satoru GOJO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	71
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	65
4	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	55
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	44
6	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	30
7	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	26
8	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	14
9	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	14
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	9

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FOUR

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Scuderia Keicho (+1)	136
2	Jujutsu Technical Racing (-1)	115
3	Sengoku (=)	81
4	Meiji (=)	39
5	Kyoto G1 Team (+1)	17
6	Haein (-1)	16

—

 

After every race, there is a - usually brief - meeting with all the drivers. Mostly it’s used to bounce around ideas about regulations and how to make the whole experience of driving around the track more enjoyable. Whether it be track limits, penalties, impeding or a crash, everything gets aired out. 

Back in 2017, the higher-ups had trialled this idea of filming them and putting out clips, but it was quickly dispelled when drivers stopped airing out concerns in fear of being criticised. It hadn’t held Gojo back: he got criticised for most things he did anyway. Regardless, a clip of him making fun of Utahime wearing headphones went viral at some point. People found it funny: Utahime did not. 

But it's 2022 now, and these briefings don’t get filmed, and for the first time, Gojo is acutely grateful for it. He ends up sitting next to Nanami, who in turn is next to Inumaki. Utahime sits behind them with Mai and Miwa, and just in front, Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara have all taken their seats, too. 

Tengen shuffles in, and the murmuring ceases almost immediately. The old man is definitely well-respected, even if he’s not well-liked by all the drivers: Gojo dislikes him, but still understands that he’s a necessary part of their sport as a safety officer and technical director. 

“So, does anyone have anything they wish to discuss?” He says, in that same gravelly voice, and Nanami immediately clears his throat beside him. 

“This has nothing to do with racing, but whilst we are behind closed doors, I have to say what a shit show it was that journalists have been allowed to ask questions about Fushiguro,” Megumi’s head immediately whips around, and Nanami clarifies, “Toji, not Megumi.” 

Tengen frowns, swallowing around his next words. “You think they should not be allowed to ask about him?” 

Nanami scoffs. Gojo never really sees him get angry, not like the other drivers on the grid, but he’s definitely pissed now. “No, because we are directed to not be honest about him and why he departed the sport. One Freudian slip and we cause the biggest scandal grade one has ever seen.” 

“And besides the scandal,” Utahime says, in a calm voice behind them, “he is associated with painful memories for many of us. Some of us directly, because we raced on the same grid as him, in the same races. It is incredibly inappropriate for journalists to be able to ask intrusive questions like that, but especially to Gojo and Getou, and to Megumi, and to Nanami, also. If we are asked to lie about why he is banned from the sport, we should not be poked and prodded about the matters surrounding it like animals in a zoo.” 

Gojo leans back. Utahime’s face is set, hard. The scar that covers her right cheek has faded significantly since 2015, but it’s still visible here, under the harsh glow of the lights. She refuses to look Gojo in the eye, despite having defended him just a moment ago. 

Tengen shuffles some papers together, “matters with the press are not exactly my prerogative. But this matter will be passed on, I can assure you. Does anyone else have anything to say about the matter?” 

Gojo sighs, long and deep, and stretches out his legs, “well, nothing to add apart from the reporter was an asshole, and that Toji was a Grade One cunt.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Inumaki presses his hand over his mouth to suppress a snicker. 

“Uh.” Megumi swallows. “I also think that we should not be asked about him, because it opens the doors for the press to dig into my personal life and my sister’s. I’ve had enough of that in grade two, and we don’t need any more.” 

Tengen’s eyebrows lower. “Of course,” 

“I mean, a concrete ban. From mentioning him. To all journalists, publications, whatever,” Megumi clarifies. “Penalised by a fine.”

“A gagging order?” Mai blurts, “surely that is harsh, he was part of the sport, regardless-” 

“So now the little Zenin has something to say?” Nobara raises her eyebrows and leans back over her chair, “he killed someone.” 

There it is, Gojo thinks, the crux of it all. The thing many of them refuse to say out loud. The real reason why Toji left his two children in France whilst he ran from everything he’d ever done. He knows Nobara doesn’t care much for the history of the sport besides who was winning, and the fact that even she knows about Toji speaks volumes. 

Mai looks about ready to jump out of her chair and fist fight Nobara - how are these two teammates, the Meiji guys must be ready to hang themselves, Gojo thinks - but Tengen raises a hand, silencing them. “I will propose a blanket ban, Utahime is right, you as drivers are already under a gagging order, and the media should be held to the same standards. To protect the sport.” 

Nanami’s mouth twitches beside him, and Gojo crosses his legs in his chair again. He can tell they’re both thinking the same thing. 

To protect the sport, never us.

 

—

 

They fly commercial out of Italy. Mostly because the next race of the season is a new track in Miami, USA, land of the free, and the higher-ups, for some godforsaken reason, have decided to sandwich it in between Imola and Barcelona. You know, Italy and Spain. Two countries very geographically close to each other. 

Honestly, Gojo is all for backing proposals that mean next season the races will be organised based on location, because the jetlag is a killer. Oh, and the fuel. Carbon footprint, or whatever. Utahime is constantly bitching about it, to the press, and Gojo doesn’t like agreeing with her about many things, but he agrees on this one. Because why on earth did they not put it in between Mexico and Brazil? You know, when they’re actually in the continent? 

There’s always controversy about new tracks regardless, though, like Miami is. A purpose built track for Grade One, started in 2018, and finally finished and approved for 2022. They keep adding more and more races, and Gojo is never one to complain publicly (they all get paid an obscene amount of money, after all), but the calendar is starting to get more and more overwhelming. 

The younger drivers don’t struggle as much with it, he thinks. They’ve never known anything else other than the brutal pace of over twenty races in a year. When Gojo started, the calendar was only eighteen races long. The sport is expanding in a way he isn’t sure how to feel about. 

The Jujutsu, Sengoku, and Keicho drivers all end up booked on the same flight. So here they are, sitting in the first class lounge, waiting for its arrival. Yuuji is excitedly talking to Megumi, hands in front of him and gesturing wildly, saying something about America, and how different this will be to COTA, and how different it is to drive there than in Europe or Asia. 

Gojo misses the days when they pulled up to Austin, Texas to race at the Circuit of The Americas (Land Of The Free!!) and no one knew who they were. There’s less racing fans in America, because they have their own (supposedly superior but definitely not) series that keeps their attention. Back in the early 2010s, they could get away with anything, go clubbing and go to eat and not get mobbed at their hotels. 

That’s not really the case anymore, and he has a feeling that with the showmanship of Miami, it’s going to end up being worse than Austin. 

But Yuuji seems excited about it, and Megumi is listening to him. Gojo sighs, and turns to Yuuta, “you as excited as him?” 

Yuuta huffs. “No. One race in America is enough.” 

“At least it’s a street circuit,” Gojo grins back at him, teasingly. Yuuta, like many of the drivers, hates them, because one wrong move and you’re in the barriers. Gojo thinks that makes it more exciting, but having the pressure isn’t something many of them enjoy. 

“And they're going to add Las Vegas,” Yuuta rolls his eyes, “honestly, they’re going to have three American Grand Prix, and the fans are the worst ones.” 

Gojo shrugs. He can’t argue with that. He finds them much too loud and abrasive and they invade their personal space more and grab them when they reach for signatures. 

“Do you have changes to the car there?” 

“I am definitely not supposed to tell you that,” Yuuta grins, “Getou would kill me.” 

“Eh, worth a shot.” Slowly, Gojo stretches his legs, propping them up on his suitcase. “Are you struggling?” 

Yuuta’s gaze betrays him, because he glances at Yuuji. And Gojo already knows the answer. 

“No,” he says, “the car feels good. It feels fast. I’m fine on the balance.” He looks at Yuuji, and stops speaking. Because the rest of the sentence goes something like: but I’m just not fast enough. My teammate is faster. My teammate is better, and things are slipping from me. 

“He’s something else, you know that,” Gojo says, quieting his voice. “You’re no less of a driver than you were, but now you’re being compared to someone equally talented without any team orders, or health issues.”

Yuuta scoffs beside him, “you really boost my ego, don’t you? I know the only reason I beat Utahime was because she was struggling, but you could at least pretend.” 

“Your performance was still incredible.” Gojo shrugs, “you know that. Your first season in a competitive car, and you deliver that level of driving consistently?” 

“This shouldn’t be any different.” Slightly crooked teeth worry at Yuuta’s lips. They’re chapped and close to bleeding. “I perform well under pressure.” 

“This is a whole different pressure, I think,” Gojo says, not unkindly. 

Yuuta laughs, “I should ask Getou how he did it.” 

“How he did what?” 

“How he beat his teammate, with the whole world and his own team expecting him to fail.” 

Gojo has no answer for that, because no one really expects Yuuta to fail. Not in the way it was for Getou, anyway. Back in 2014, it was. Everything. Everything anyone was talking about. In fact, a lot of journalists have been quizzing Yuuji on his “run of good luck”. Everyone thinks Yuuta and Yuuji are pretty evenly matched on skill. No one ever thought that about Getou and Gojo. 

But he doesn’t say anything. 

 

—

 

September 2004, Italy

 

Gojo does something unexpected in 2004: he doesn’t win the Grade Four championship. He rounds out the season within the top fifteen, which his team and everyone says is an achievement for a rookie, but Satoru thinks otherwise. He complains about it in their texts constantly, and then invites Suguru to come to Monza, to watch the Grade One race, and Getou goes. 

They have paddock passes, like usual, and Yaga is there, with Keicho. Satoru runs to him and hugs him, and Yaga pulls Suguru into it too, and it feels like coming home. 

This year, Haein is nowhere to be seen, right slap bang in the middle of the field. After so many years of dominance, they’d lost both their dominant drivers at the end of 2003, with Sukuna’s death and Kenjaku’s abrupt retirement after winning the world championship and dedicating it to him. Now the Sengokus are back at the front, and the Naras are chasing them, and the best championship battle in years has ensued. 

The excitement around it still feels a little hollow to Suguru after watching the accident last year, but Monza is special, and the atmosphere makes his chest feel light, and he allows himself to be caught up in it. 

Satoru takes his hand in his, easily, and drags Suguru forward, and they’re watching the Grade Two cars, which are still fast but not as fast as the Grade Ones, and Suguru’s skin prickles where Satoru touches him. 

“What team do you wanna drive for?” Satoru says, in a way that feels like: in the future. When, not if. 

Suguru swallows. The answer is Keicho. He wants to drive for Keicho. But he’ll never get that opportunity. “I dunno, what about you?” 

“Whichever team is winning.” Satoru says, baring all his teeth in a smile that makes Suguru feel like he’s floating. He still feels the urge to cut all of his hair off. 

 

—

 

“It’s gonna be so cool when you come to Grade Four next year,” Satoru says, lounging in their too-hot hotel room shirtless with shorts on. Suguru thinks that in between every motorhome escapade and hotel room, they must have seen every part of each others’ bodies. Lately, Suguru has been trying desperately to not recontextualise the way he feels about it, because it would change things. 

They still change in front of each other, but now Suguru dips his head when he sees Satoru’s collarbones, so nothing has changed, really. 

“I don’t know if I’ll get a seat,” Suguru says, swallowing around the sharpness of his own words. The disappointment sticks like barbs on his teeth. 

“You’ve been winning everything this year, and I know they’re giving Shoko a seat,” Satoru says, “you have nothing to worry about,” 

“No- I mean-” Suguru can’t look at him. It’s like he’s not even thinking. “We can’t afford it. My dad’s been working extra, but he’s still not making enough money, and it’s- I think I might have to quit.” 

Satoru frowns, and finally looks up from where he’d been playing a game on his phone. “Like, you’re gonna quit racing?” 

“My mom and my dad are arguing all the time, and I can’t get a job to pay for it,” 

“I don’t want you to quit racing,” Satoru frowns. “You’re my best friend.” 

“I can still come to races, and watch you,” Suguru says, and Satoru shakes his head violently. 

“That’s not the same. You know it’s not the same,” 

“Yeah, but if I work hard in school I can be an engineer, and then I’ll get a job in your Grade One team and we can be together again.” 

“That’s not fair,” Satoru huffs, “you’re just as good a driver as me. We’re the best together, I don’t wanna be the best by myself.” 

“I’m sorry,” Suguru says. Because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

Satoru sighs and turns on the TV. “You’ll find a way and then we’re gonna race in Grade One together, I bet,”

 

—

 

May 2022, America

 

Gojo finds out that Yuki is back in the paddock for the Miami Grand Prix, not because Yaga tells him, or because he’s warned about her lines of questioning ahead of media day, but because of an accident. 

He sees her on the steps of the Keicho motorhome, smiling, talking to none other than Getou Suguru himself. 

Gojo isn’t really supposed to see it, is the thing. But they lost the constructors’ championship to Keicho last year, and as a result he has to walk past their motorhome to make his way out of the paddock. So he just happens to look in the wrong direction for a split second, and suddenly he’s met with the sight of Getou laughing, full bodied and open, at something Yuki is saying. His eyes are crinkled, and he’s got all of his attention on her, and his hair is spilling down his back in dark waves. 

He knew Yuki and Getou were still good friends. She’s always had a soft spot for him, since they were teammates. She was never afraid to say that she rated Getou over Gojo as a driver, either, when they were both on the grid. Which- still makes Gojo a little sore, to be honest. 

He stops, for a long moment, on the steps of his own motorhome, and wonders if he could still make Getou laugh like that, if he tried. It used to be easier than breathing. But then Megumi is behind him, shoving a team cap in his hands and telling him to stop staring, it’s obvious, you know ? 

Gojo shoves the cap down over his white hair, pushes his sunglasses up his nose, and grins, wrestling Megumi off the steps, “come on then. It’s showtime.” 

 

—

 

January 2005, Japan

 

“Suguru, come here!” His father’s shout echoes through the house and Suguru groans. 

“In a minute, dad!” 

“No, now! Come on!” 

He opens up his mouth and shouts from his room, “I’m doing homework, dad!” 

He is. Long, complicated maths problems that make his head swim and physics equations that are much more simple. 

“It can wait!” 

Now, that’s curious. His dad always makes him finish his schoolwork before everything, even dinner, sometimes. So he gets up, and makes his way downstairs. 

His dad is sat at the family computer, glasses perched on his nose as he moves the mouse. “Read this,” he says. 

There’s an email on the screen. It reads: 

 

Dear Mr. Getou, 

We write to you, as the designated guardian of Getou Suguru, in hopes to offer him a Grade Four seat at Haein Junior Team in the coming season. We are aware that previous offers to your son have been rejected due to financial concerns, and we are pleased to offer your son a fully funded, sponsored seat in our team based on his recent show of talent and good performances in numerous karting series across Asia and Europe. 

The season will begin in April, and features thirty races across ten events…

 

Suguru stops reading, jaw slack, and turns to his dad. This is it. His dad is beaming at him, pulling his glasses off his face, and opens up his arms. This is it . “I knew you could do it.” 

This is it. 

Suguru lets out a cry of joy, and throws himself into his dad’s open arms. His dad picks him up, and spins him round until Suguru is begging him to put him down. When they peel away from each other, his dad’s eyes are wet. “I’m so proud of you, I love you,” 

“I love you too,” Suguru’s voice jumps. He’s crying too, a bit. “I- can I-” 

“Go call him,” his dad says, “he’ll be excited, too.” 

Suguru trips over his own feet on the way to the phone, physics homework forgotten. 

 

—

 

May 2022, America

 

Media day, as it always is in America, is an uncomfortable shit show from start to finish. Gojo has no idea why there’s cheerleaders here. He has no idea why there are so many American flags everywhere. Megumi can’t mask his general distaste for the whole thing, and he gets grilled even more about it, which would make Gojo feel sorry for him if it wasn’t so funny to watch. 

The higher-ups seem to have cottoned onto the fact that Yuuji, Nobara and Megumi as a trio bring a lot of engagement, so they’re pulled away to film a challenge video, midway through the day, and Gojo tags along, watching from behind the cameras. Because, why not? He has nothing else to do, and at least the cameras in here aren’t pointed at him. 

Yuuji wrinkles his nose at the table in front of them. “What are these?” 

“American candy!” Nobara grins, tucking her hair behind her ear and rustling through the pile. “Did you guys get Hershey’s? I love those!” 

“I'm not even going to be able to eat half of these.” Megumi grumbles, and glances at Gojo with a look that says they really didn’t think this through, huh ?

“There’s some stuff there with low sugar, Megumi,” the camera operator says, all sunny and bright and her accent is definitely going to become grating in a minute. Gojo grins. “But you guys can save your reactions for when the cameras are rolling, please?” 

Megumi grumbles, Yuuji nods enthusiastically, and Nobara raises an eyebrow. 

Honestly, Gojo isn’t quite sure what the exact challenge is. He knows it involves a blindfold, and the three of them screeching at each other, and a battle for points, which Nobara and Megumi get insanely competitive over, but he doesn’t really understand, not fully. 

About an hour passes before the side door opens, and Getou peers through, letting himself in easily. The three young drivers don’t even notice him, too caught up in Yuuji choking on some sort of spicy crisp. 

“Ah, they’re not done?” Getou says, in Japanese, so they aren’t overheard by the American staff members, right beside him. Gojo isn’t sure how he got there so quickly.

“No, I think they’re almost done, though,” he replies. 

Getou sighs and looks impatiently at his watch. “I needed Yuuji back, like, half an hour ago,” 

“What for? It’s media day.”

“He was supposed to be at a sponsor talk, for paddock club,” Getou grimaces, “they say they don’t mind him being late, but I think that only works for the first ten minutes.” 

“Fuck the paddock club,” 

Getou laughs, “we used to be in paddock club, when we went to races when we were younger,” 

“Still.” Gojo says, “none of them care about the racing. They’re all just there to show off their wealth,” 

“What’s your net worth again?” Getou scoffs, and the point comes home. “We all have responsibilities. This one is one of Yuuji’s, and he’s late.” 

Gojo just hums in response. “It’s not his fault, though.” 

“Like your lateness was never your fault?” Getou teases, and Gojo scoffs in response. 

“Most of the time, it was yours,” 

They were as bad as each other, really, in those first few Grade One seasons. 

Gojo frowns, looking at the three younger drivers up on the stage, “why? Does Yuuji remind you of me?” 

It’s meant to be teasing. Light. And yet, Getou takes it seriously. “No, Megumi is much closer to you. Yuuji reminds me of myself.” 

Whatever answer he’d been expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that. He stares at Getou for a few seconds before they’re interrupted by the camera operator clapping her hands together and smiling, much too wide. “Oh-kay! I think we’re done here, thank you guys!” 

Getou immediately whistles at Yuuji, waving him over. “Itadori, let’s go, we’re late for paddock club.” 

Yuuji’s eyes widen as he scrambles to grab his lanyard and his water bottle, smiling at Gojo in passing as they leave. When he looks back up to Megumi, he’s giving Gojo a strange look. 

The camera operator turns, all smiles, to Gojo and Megumi, and says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world, “you couldn’t convince Getou to be in one of these with you, could you Satoru? You two are in high demand,” 

“No,” Gojo says, turning, “come on Megs, we’re late,” 

Nobara follows them, hot on their heels. As soon as the door slams behind them, she’s asking, “what’re you late for?” 

“Dinner,” Gojo grins, “you wanna come with? My treat.” 

Nobara punches the air and hugs Gojo’s arm briefly, “you’re the best! Can Maki come? Um, my race engineer, I mean.” 

As if Gojo doesn’t know who Maki Zenin is. Cute. 

“Sure,” agreeing easily, Gojo turns back to Megumi. “You coming?”

Megumi is still standing there, with that look from before on his face. “Are you two talking?” 

“No. You want dinner, or not?” 

Any protests die on Megumi’s tongue. He sighs. “Sure.” 

Gojo grins, and wraps his arms around his shoulders, trying to knock him over. It doesn’t work, and all is right with the world. 

 

Notes:

tw: ED talk and talk of dieting, minor character death and graphic description of a motor racing crash involoving sukuna and kenjaku. quick note about this crash: it may not be accurate or realistic to portray a life-ending crash in Monaco, but I was incredibly hesitant to use a track with high death rates or take inspo from real life fatal crashes.

anyway!! i hope u enjoyed this offering. pls remember to comment so i can feed my kids! shoutout to ao3 user noxdragon, ur bookmark notes made me insane!! come comment next time i love you

EDIT IF YOU KNOW F1 PLS COMMENT BC WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING IN VEGAS FP1 IS CANCELLED LECLERC IS P1 AND SAINZ CAR IS FUCKED???

the tracks referenced in this chapter are the Imola Circuit, Monte Carlo, Monaco and the Autodromo Nazionale Monza, otherwise just known as Monza, in the flashback. Like Suzuka, Monza will make another appearance later, as will Monaco. :)

please please tell me ur thoughts pls

Chapter 5: v - out brake

Summary:

Verb. A term used to describe a driver braking either too late or too softly and subsequently overrunning a corner. A common mistake made during overtaking moves.

 

Also used to refer to a driver braking later than their opponent, even when they do not overrun the corner as a result.

Notes:

the las vegas gp made me so insane that i banged this out in five days. charles leclerc u beautiful man that last lap overtake was sensational forza ferrari siempre and fuck that second safety car.

content warnings in end notes, enjoy

April 2005, Japan

 

Suguru knows a few things, even though he’s really uncertain about the future right now. He knows he has a seat in Haein in Grade Four. He knows that seat is fully funded. He knows, that because the seat is fully funded, that he is expected to perform better than his teammates, and his peers. 

He knows he is fifteen years old. He knows that the average age to get into Grade One is twenty one. He knows he is Satoru’s best friend. He knows Shoko will be driving alongside them. 

He recounts all these things as he bounces his leg in the motorhome on their way to the first race of the season. 

He’s travelling with the team, which is new. His bag is packed, and he has to wash his own race suit and thermals, and his shoes, and his helmet is safely tucked away in protective casing somewhere. It has all the team logos and sponsors on it, and Suguru had to go to the Haein headquarters, all the way in England, to get everything measured and fitted, including the seat. Of his car. The car that he will get to drive all season. His! Car! 

But now he’s here, watching the world spin by as they drive towards the first race, and he kind of misses his dad. 

His teammate is younger than him, but by how much, Getou isn’t entirely sure. He had introduced himself with a massive grin on his face, and rocked back and forth on his heels like a puppy. His hair flopped about much the same way. “Hey, I’m Haibara Yu, nice to meet you!” 

Suguru had told him his name, the younger boy had told him “cool!” and they’d been herded onto the motorhome and not said a word to each other since. Haibara had pulled out a brand new nintendo DS. Apparently Satoru had gotten one, too, the newest thing, but Suguru hadn’t been able to afford one. They’re fifteen thousand yen to buy, which is kind of a lot of money. His dad is still working to pay off debt, on credit cards, and their house, even though Suguru’s driving is fully paid for now. 

But anyway, Haibara is playing something on it, his tongue sticking out as he concentrates. Suguru stares at him. He wonders how rich he is. Whether he has a sponsored drive, or whether he can afford to have fun. He doesn’t look like someone who has a lot of pressure on him. He seems carefree. 

“Do you want to play?” Haibara says. His eyes are wide, offering the console to Suguru with a questioning expression. Suguru stares at it for a minute, then shakes his head. 

“I don’t know how,” 

“I can teach you,” Haibara says. He’s got braces, with sky blue colours. “We still have like, three hours to go, are you sure?” 

Suguru isn’t. He really, kind of wanted a DS when they got announced late last year. He didn’t ask for one for Christmas because his family had been figuring out how to cobble together enough money to keep him racing, and he had wanted that more than any game console at the time. 

He crosses over to where Haibara’s sitting, and looks at the screen. “How’d you play?” 

By the time they pull into the race track, Suguru has learned quite a bit about Haibara. He has a younger sister who’s in karts, but doing really well. She wants to race like her big brother. He says he likes cooking, and his favourite food is rice, and he insists on making up a handshake with Suguru because he wants them to look cool when they meet his competitors. 

He talks a lot about how he has friends in Grade Four already, and he talks a lot about his friend Nanami, who’s blonde, apparently. “He’s on the Nara junior team, which is super cool, and I wanted to be his teammate, but I’m glad you’re my teammate, because you seem more experienced than me, which is good ‘cause I wanna learn new things.” 

“I haven’t met him,” Suguru replies, honest. The boy talks a million miles a minute. It’s hard to keep up. 

“I’m also friends with Utahime, and she drives for Sengoku juniors,” Haibara rambles on, and Suguru grins in recognition. 

“I’ve met her, a couple of times. She seems nice.”

She doesn’t. She’s surly, and she hates Suguru because he’s friends with Satoru, and Satoru is her biggest competition. But Haibara doesn’t need to know that. 

“Have you met the other drivers already?” Haibara looks up at him with stars in his eyes. Suguru laughs. 

“I know her teammate from karting, and I watched some of his races last season.” 

“You know Gojo ?” Haibara gasps, and Suguru sighs, deep and long. 

 

—

 

Satoru comes to them, like he always does. The Sengoku guys got there first, and they’ve kept both Satoru and Utahime for the new season. As usual, as soon as they see each other, Satoru is bowling over Suguru into a hug, and he can’t help but grin into his shoulders, hands coming up to clasp at his shirt. 

Satoru smells good. Like petrol and oil and metal all rolled into one, with something sweet layered over the top. He doesn’t linger on it, though, because that would be weird. Instead, he pushes Satoru back. It half works, because the other boy stops hugging him, but drapes himself over his shoulders all the same. Suguru fishes a lollipop out of his pocket and hands it to him. 

“Aw, sweet,” Satoru grins, immediately tearing the wrapper off and putting it in his mouth, sucking obnoxiously loud. Then he stops, pointing at Haibara, and blurting, “who’s that?” 

Haibara’s eyes widen comically at being referred to. He glances at Suguru, like he can’t believe Satoru is here, draped so casually over him, then he bows, rather abruptly. “Haibara Yu, I’m Getou’s teammate,” 

Satoru’s jaw drops open and he laughs, “you look like an idiot!” 

Haibara stands back up straight, cheeks flushed bright red, and stammers, “I’m trying to be respectful,” 

Satoru shrugs, “how old are you?” 

“Fourteen,” Haibara says, indignant. 

Gojo shrugs, “you don’t need to be respectful to me, I’m only a year older. We’re gonna be racing each other.” 

Suguru laughs, because he doesn’t think the respect Haibara feels is necessary probably has nothing to do with age, and more to do with Gojo’s name and multiple championship titles in karting.

“Oh, okay,” Haibara says, regardless, eyes darting between the two of them like he still can’t quite believe they’re friends. It lights something up in Suguru’s chest. Like, yeah, you better believe it. I know him better than anyone. 

“Come on,” Satoru says then, suddenly growing impatient, “Shoko’s here somewhere and I haven’t seen her yet,” 

He grabs Suguru’s hand and starts dragging him away, then stops and turns around. “You know you can come, too, right?” 

Haibara looks even more like a lost puppy than before, standing on the steps. He looks around, then darts up to meet them. 

 

—

 

May 2022, America 

 

“Radio check?” 

“Loud and clear.” Gojo replies, waving his hands around above the cockpit to gesture for his gloves. Someone hands them to him and he flexes his fingers as he puts them on. 

“We’re expecting the track to be slippery for the first few runs and improve with time,” Shoko says, over the radio. “So be careful, okay?” 

“Yep,” Gojo replies, popping the p. “Let’s get out there.” 

The car gets dropped down, and Gojo can see the engineers milling about, holding the tyre covers over the top. Gojo strains his head to see someone waving him out of the garage, and then it’s go-time. 

When he drives, the world shrinks. Racing is such an all-encompassing sport, at times. Gojo has no privacy, no real friends, is on the road for nine months of the year. He hasn’t seen his parents outside of a racetrack in almost a decade. He only gets to spend about a month out of the year in Japan, and two weeks of that is usually for the Grand Prix in Suzuka. 

He’s expected to be funny, someone to look up to, attractive enough to be a model all at the same time. But he’s Satoru Gojo, Greatest Of All Time, and he balances it well. 

But none of those things matter when you’re in the car. The world shrinks to the cockpit, the air flying past your helmet, your feet on the pedals. All that matters is when to break, when to put your foot on the throttle. When to upshift, when to downshift, when to steer. 

Gojo thinks that might be why he keeps coming back to it, after all these years. The focus you need. One wrong move and you’re dead. Gojo finds that exhilarating. He’s taken on death, looked it square in the eyes, and won. And he keeps doing it, week in, week out. 

All he has to do now is put together the perfect lap, round a brand new track. Set the standard. 

He rounds the final corner on his outlap, and hears Shoko’s voice over the radio. “Okay, mode push, mode push, let’s go,” 

He’s over the line, braking late into turn one and praying it goes well. The car responds beneath him beautifully, like a wild animal, tamed, and Gojo pulls it through turns two and three and gets on the throttle again down the straight. 

The straight is short, and Gojo navigates the chicane at turns four and five, then sweeps through turns six, seven, eight. 

“Beware of Inumaki, ahead, he’s on a slow lap,” Shoko says. 

“Copy,” 

Then: his favourite part of the track. Turn eight to turn eleven, full throttle, as fast as you can. The braking zone at the end of it is a bitch, and Gojo doesn’t get a choice about where to position his car because Inumaki is on the outside of it. 

“That’s a penalty, there,” he says to Shoko. The reply comes quick. 

“Focus, we’re already on it.” 

A series of tight turns keep his brain busy as the car squeals beneath him, tyres slipping on the new tarmac. He swears to no one in particular about it, rounds the tight turn sixteen and gets on the throttle, gears shifting up again. 

Hairpin, turn seventeen, down to turns eighteen and nineteen, then foot on the throttle again, across the line-

“That’s P1, currently,” Shoko seems pleased, “we think that’s good, come in and we’ll send you out again on new tyres at the end of the session, if we need.” 

“Copy, boxing,” Gojo replies. His world is opening up again. He can see the hospitality suites towering above him, the world flashing by. His heart is spinning in his chest as he pulls into the pitlane. 

 

—

 

Post-Qualifying Press Conference, Miami Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: A very warm welcome to our top three qualifiers! In third, we have Megumi Fushiguro, in second, Yuuta Okkotsu, and on pole, none other than Satoru Gojo! Gosh, that lap was just brilliant, Gojo, over four tenths clear of the rest of the field! Talk us through how you did it. 

SATORU GOJO : I think that the gap is more to do with how difficult the conditions are out there in terms of grip, rather than a genuine gap in speed, but yeah, I’m pleased, being able to pull everything together right at the end of Q3 was definitely a gamble but it paid off. 

Q: Still, the level of skill needed to pull that much of a gap is definitely something to be proud of.

SG: I know the guys behind me made mistakes, and Yuuji in particular, according to Shoko, ( note: Gojo’s engineer ) was on my pace but spun, so I’m not going to sit and gloat. I’ll still have to work hard tomorrow to keep them behind me. 

Q: After the DNF in Imola, are you hopeful to come back with a bang? 

SG : Of course, we have the strongest car here, and a double podium is definitely possible. We just have to be hungry enough to take it. 

Q: Now, let’s come to you, Yuuta, P2, and you’ve out-qualified your teammate for the first time this season. Is it starting to come together with the car now?

YUUTA OKKOTSU : Ah, well, as Gojo already said, Yuuji made a mistake behind, and both Sengoku drivers were struggling more than we expected, I think, so this is a surprise, but a welcome one. 

Q: But the pace tomorrow is, of course, your strong point?

YO : Yes. I believe we’re more than capable of hanging onto this podium finish. 

Q: Okay, so finally, Megumi. What a lap, and what an incredible rookie season you’re having. You just seem to be going from strength to strength! Talk us through it. 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO : Ah, where to start? I think the three- wait no- [to Satoru] was it five? [laughs] track walks here with Gojo made a difference. The team has really helped me this weekend, and having a level playing field in terms of experience here has put me probably a bit higher than I would be normally, but I’ll take it. 

Q: Your season is starting off incredibly. You’ve not been out the points yet, and now you’ve qualified top three for the first time. How good does it feel?

MF : Well, I have to thank the team, really. I’m in a top car, and of course points finishes should come easy. Of course it feels good, but we score our points tomorrow, and that’s where I have to aim to fight. 

Q: You have something to add, Gojo?

SG : Yeah. Megs, I’m proud of you. Take the compliment from poor Haibara. 

MF : Stop. 

SG : See! He’s too modest. Rookie of the year, this one!

YO : [laughs] Rookie of the year, for sure! 

 

—

 

“Congrats on the pole, Satoru,” 

Getou is standing in the paddock, microphone in hand, and he’s just turned away from his own interview. To congratulate him on something he does every other week. 

Satoru’s heart flutters in his chest. Then it flips, and crashes and dies, because there’s cameras everywhere, watching them, and Getou is playing the good sportsman with an easy grin. 

Gojo looks to Yuki, who’s one of the presenters conducting the interview, because of course she is. She’s standing, smiling, and so he plasters a fake one on his own face in response. “Yeah, I beat your drivers out there today, huh?” 

It’s not close enough to the microphones to be picked up, but Gojo knows that Getou hears it. As he walks away, he hears another presenter say it’s good that you two still have such respect for each other. 

Gojo doesn’t stick around long enough to hear Getou’s response. He doesn’t care about it, anyway. 

 

—

 

Although Gojo doesn’t concern himself with tyre strategy too much, he knows that this weekend, it's completely and utterly up in the air. Without any knowledge of how the race will pan out, they have no idea how to prepare for safety cars, weather, or the pace of one tyre compound compared to another. 

Apparently, most of the teams are going for a two-stop, which is predicted to be fastest. Gojo isn’t sure if he agrees the tyre degradation will be high enough for a two-stop, especially in their car, which looks after its tyres quite well. But nevertheless, the track temperatures are going to be high, and the air is humid, and there’s far too many factors at play here, really. 

Luck is going to come into it. 

But luck doesn’t exist out on the track. Skill does. Managing the tyres does. The right strategy call does. He has to trust his team entirely, and he does. He’s known Shoko his entire life, or near enough. Yaga is basically his dad, after spending nearing a decade in the team, with him being his race engineer and then his team principal. He trusts Megumi to push as hard as possible. 

“Simulations are saying a one-stop is possible,” Shoko grits her teeth, looking at the screen in front of her, “but it relies on good management, so I’m hesitant to suggest it. It leaves us vulnerable to a safety car.” 

“Is it likely?” Gojo hums, pressing his hand to his hip, “there’s a few narrow sections, but-” 

Shoko presses her lips together, rubbing her fingers over the circles under her eyes. “I’d be hesitant to prepare for one, or count on one. But I don’t want to be vulnerable if it happens, either. An engine breakdown in the wrong place could bring one out.” 

Yaga grimaces. “So Megumi definitely won’t want a one-stop, then. His tyre management is-” 

Gojo presses his lips together and suppresses a half-hum in his throat. He feels Yaga’s shoulders slump. 

“Getou was always good at making calls like this.” 

“Well let’s hope he’s not anymore. Come on, let’s get the debrief done, then we can all go home,” 

Yaga turns away first, and Gojo goes to follow him, but sees Shoko hanging back, hands carding through her hair and elbows on her desk. 

“Shoko?” 

She smiles weakly and stands, tying her hair back. They walk side-by-side, slow and quiet. 

“Do you miss him?” 

Gojo frowns and looks at Shoko. She’s biting her lip, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Like she’s unsure if Gojo feels the same. 

“I miss him now,” Gojo laughs, “his uncanny strategy calls would be appreciated right now,” 

Shoko swallows and looks away, and Gojo feels it slipping from him. Like Getou slipped from him, at the end of 2014, when everything was going wrong in his career, and he was losing races, and losing Getou. It’s left claw marks in him, he thinks. The loss of his best friend eats at him from the inside, always, and now it’s eating at everyone around him, too. Infectious. 

He reaches out, grabs at Shoko’s wrist: a desperate attempt. “Yeah. Sorry. I do. You know I do.” 

“I don’t know how to stop loving him, for who he was. He’s not the same person, anymore.” Shoko says, and Gojo laughs. 

“Yeah, I don’t know either,” 

 

—

 

As usual, Gojo ignores the press on the pitlane. As usual, he stands and sways side-to-side during the national anthem, and pats the head of the gap-toothed kid who stands in front of him. He ducks past all the microphones, and the cameras, and then he’s surrounded by his team, and finally, everyone gets out of the way. 

He lowers himself into the cockpit, and sees the run down to turn one ahead of him, and breathes in and out. In his wing mirrors, he can see Yuuta. They set off on the formation lap, and Gojo watches the way the Keicho moves behind them, tries to imagine what Miguel is saying in his ears. Tries to picture their strategy. Is it to get Gojo off the line? Is it to be patient? 

They pull into their positions. Shoko’s voice comes in, clear and crisp, “last car pulling up to the grid now.” 

“Copy.” 

The first red light comes on. Gojo’s whole body reacts. His fingers twitch over the paddle. 

The lights go out. The whole track roars. And then-

 

—

 

Commentators’ transcript from the 2022 Miami Grand Prix Broadcast, Grade One TV

 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: It’s lights out, and we’re racing in Miami for the first time ever! Fushiguro gets off the line well, he’s alongside his teammate, Okkotsu down the inside, Zenin right behind him, and- oh-!

YUKI TSUKUMO : That’s a big incident! Four cars out at turn one-

MN : That’s Gojo, he’s spun, so has the Sengoku of Kento-

YT : Itadori spinning out too, and he’s lost a tyre to the debris- he’s out, Zenin looks to have picked up significant damage, too, and the rookie, Megumi Fushiguro, leads the Miami Grand Prix, followed by Okkotsu, then Inumaki from Zenin, Kasumi has made up places and Kugisaki has stayed out of trouble, too-

MN : Wait, there’s a radio message coming through-

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - Initial Start Incident, Miami GP 2022

 

LAP 1:  

 

IERI : Yellow flag, yellow flag. 

GOJO : Yeah, no ****! That was my line! What the ****! Who the **** went bowling in turn one?

IERI : Gojo, focus up, get back out. Is the car okay? 

GOJO : I’ve got damage, I’ve got damage, on the side, on the front wing, I don’t know. I didn’t get away from that clean. 

IERI : Four cars involved, they’re gonna bring out the safety car, do we box?

GOJO : Wait half a lap, it’ll be a red flag, I think. What position am I in? 

IERI : You are P17. 

GOJO : So, last? Great. 

 

FUSHIGURO : Oh my god, oh my god. 

KAMO : And that is a safety car, do you have any damage?

FUSHIGURO : Negative, but it was close. 

KAMO : You are currently P1, P1. Hold position, we think it will be a red flag. 

FUSHIGURO : Copy, copy. Is Yuuji okay? I saw his tyre go. 

KAMO : We are checking. 

FUSHIGURO : Okay.

KAMO : He’s out of the car. No one is hurt. 

FUSHIGURO : Good. 

 

OKKOTSU : What the hell! What was she thinking?

MIGUEL : Are you okay?

OKKOTSU : I think I have damage, somewhere, I don’t know. Front wing made contact. 

MIGUEL : Copy, we think it will be a red flag, stay out for now. 

OKKOTSU : Right. Yeah, copy. I am P2?

MIGUEL : P2, car ahead is Fushiguro. 

 

ITADORI : ****, ****, ****! I had such a good start, what’s going on this weekend?

TODOU : Stay in the car, we might be able to repair under red flag. 

ITADORI : Zenin needs a penalty next race for that, what the hell. 

TODOU : Copy. We’re on it. 

 

IERI : So that’s a red flag, red flag.

GOJO : Yeah, there’s so much debris they need to clear. Copy. 

 

—

 

Gojo hauls himself out of the car, leaves it to the mechanics, and goes straight to the pitwall. Shoko is there, waiting, speaking down the radio in furious English, but she stops when she sees Gojo. 

“Was it actually Zenin?” He asks, against his better judgement. 

Shoko just sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in response, “you wanna see the replay?” 

Shoko shows him. It’s a hundred percent Mai’s fault, diving down the inside with no room and causing a knock on effect which swung the rear end of Yuuta’s car into Gojo, who spun and took Nanami’s car with him. Huge pieces of debris fell from all of the cars involved, and then Yuuji, the poor kid, who’d gotten a really decent start, hit one of them with his left front, and the tyre was gone, immediately. No chance of getting back to the pits. 

“She should take a penalty for that.” Gojo says, and again, Shoko grits her teeth. 

“She probably won’t, though.” 

Probably. The higher-ups like to keep the Zenins happy, since they’re big investors. Giving their prodigal daughter a penalty probably isn’t a great way to do that. 

“She’s fucked my race,” Gojo tilts his head back, “and Yuuji’s, and Nanamin’s.” 

“Megumi is going to struggle to hang onto that podium with Inumaki and Yuuta right behind him,” Shoko says, “and for the drivers’, you really need to be up there.” 

“He’d understand team orders,” shrugging, Gojo takes a deep breath, “we need to see how it goes off the line. Standing start?” 

Shoko nods, “we could try a one-stop. I think Yuuta’s going to.” 

“So we box opposite him? Is he who we’re racing?” 

“Megumi is staying on the two stop,” Shoko says, “it’s up to you, no risk, no reward,” 

They’re one lap in. “Let’s get off the start line, first.” 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS, Miami GP 2022 (Post restart):

 

LAP 1 : 

 

IERI : Good start, we’re up into P13, P13. 

GOJO : Shoko, let me race, tell me what I need to know. 

 

LAP 5 : 

 

GOJO : Okay, what position am I? 

IERI : P9, car ahead is Kugisaki. Gap seven seconds. 

GOJO : Copy.

 

LAP 7 : 

 

KUGISAKI : I am burning through my tyres trying to hold him off, here! I’ve got, like no grip! 

ZENIN : You can let him by, if it is hurting your race. 

KUGISAKI : Maki, I have to, he’s too fast. 

ZENIN : Let him go. 

 

LAP 8:  

 

GOJO : Gap ahead? 

IERI : Eight seconds, car ahead is Kasumi. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 10: 

 

KASUMI : What’s the gap behind?

MUTA : Two seconds. 

KASUMI : What pace would I have to do to keep him behind?

MUTA : 1:31.5. 

KASUMI : What?! Oh my god, he’s definitely going to catch us! 

MUTA : Stay calm and don’t compromise your race, Miwa. 

 

LAP 15: 

 

GOJO : Position?

IERI : You’re P7, P7. You can push.  

GOJO : These tyres are starting to go.

IERI : Copy, how many laps have you got left? 

GOJO : Like, two? 

IERI : Copy. We need to push now, though, so that you come out of the pitstop into a gap and not into traffic. We need a gap of six seconds to Kasumi behind. 

GOJO : Damn, you’ve given me a tough job! 

IERI : She’s dropping off, too, you can do it. 

GOJO : Thanks for the encouragement!

 

LAP 17: 

 

FUSHIGURO : Tyres are gone.

KAMO : Copy, box and pit confirm. 

FUSHIGURO : Boxing. 

 

LAP 18: 

 

IERI : Ok good, box this lap, box this lap. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 27: 

 

GOJO : What’s the gap ahead?

IERI : Point-eight, you have DRS. 

GOJO : Sweet.

 

LAP 40 : 

 

IERI : Box and pit confirm. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

—

 

It’s a miserable race, really. Megumi struggles with his tyres, dropping to P4, and Gojo ends up P5, right behind him. By the time he catches up, in lap 45, the gap to Mei Mei in front is too large for even Gojo to close, so they hold position since Megumi had the better position naturally. Shoko volunteers to swap the cars, but Gojo isn’t interested in demoralising a kid in return for like, three extra points. His main fight is with Yuuji, who hasn’t gotten points at all, this race anyway. 

He gets weighed. He lost three and a half kilos, this time, because of the humidity. He feels dizzy with it. He gives all his interviews. They compliment him on the incredible drive, on the comeback, blah blah blah. He calls out Zenin a couple times, voices his opinion about the fact she didn’t get a penalty. 

Then he goes back to his drivers’ room to get changed, half-embracing Yaga on his way through the doors, and picks up a phone and a sugar-free lollipop. He wishes he could have something properly sweet, but he can’t. 

His phone buzzes with a text. 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3 : letting you know that we’re putting in a complaint against Zenin. It probably won’t go anywhere but I know Sengoku is also going to. In case your team was on the fence about it. 

Satoru frowns, and throws his phone across the room. No one is here to see the theatrics. 

He stares as it as it buzzes again, then sighs and picks it up. 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3 : hard luck today. with your pace, you should’ve been on that podium. 

Gojo stares for a moment and thinks he should really change the contact. Above the three messages Getou has sent this year, the closest one is from him, back in 2015. He never had the heart to delete the conversations. Or to change the contact name, apparently. What would he even change it to? 

The only two other people with the In Case of Emergency tag on his phone are Yaga and Shoko. His dad doesn’t have one. If Satoru died, he’d want Getou to know. He’d want him to be sad. 

He doesn’t change the contact name, and swipes across to text Yuuji. Plausible deniability. 

 

Me : hi u ok

Me : hows th car

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : doin absolutely shit m8, cars fine apart from sum floor dmg

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: did meg evn get a podium

 

Me : no, he was P4

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: wtf it lit wasn’t even wrth nything then

 

Gojo laughs, because of course that’s what Yuuji’s concern was after not finishing a race and losing valuable points. Megumi. He should really start playing cupid. His phone pings with another text. 

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: getou said it was my fault at the start when i came off

 

Me : thts a joke

Me : what the fuck

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: he wtched the replay and then said there wsnt anythng i cld do after but hed alrdy said it was a rookie mistake

 

Gojo can practically feel Yuuji being gutted through the screen. The kid is so, so, desperate to please. He gives everything, all the time, even when the car is a shitbox, even when he’s in the wall. 

But Getou- Getou used to lie about bad drives, to the juniors, all the time. He cheered Haibara up constantly, when they were in the lower grades, encouraged Nanami, patted Riko on the back and told her hey it’ll come next time .

So why has he suddenly changed? 

 

Me : if i was frthr back i wouldve got damage, the red flag was lucky 4 me 2 bc i could fix the front wing

Me : wasnt ur fault yuuji

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: thanks gojo

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: see u @ the briefing?

 

Me : yh see u

 

Gojo gets up, pulls his race suit off, grabs a sweater and baggy jeans, his old converse, and struts straight out the door. He finds Getou quickly, still hanging around parc ferme giving an interview about Yuuta’s win. Gojo stands just out of frame, and shakes his head at the camera operator to say no, I’m not giving an interview, right now. His media duties are done, after all. 

Getou thanks the interviewer, and turns, immediately locking eyes with Gojo. He takes a step towards him. They immediately slip into Japanese. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“What the hell did you say to Yuuji?” Because Gojo is tired. He’s tired of Getou pretending to be nice, and pretending to care, even though he left without a second thought seven years ago, and he hates racing! Why did he even come back just to berate a talented and inexperienced driver?

“I haven’t spoken to him,” Getou, for his part, looks genuinely confused. His brows crinkle and his eyes go wider, just by a fraction. When he lies, his eyes go doe-like as he tries to convince you. But that isn’t the case, here, and- 

Gojo hates that he knows that. 

“He was upset.” Gojo walks alongside Getou, heading back towards the motorhomes in the paddock. Gojo has a drivers’ briefing to attend, but they need to look at least partially like they’re not arguing. So. 

“Because of me?” Getou says. “I just told him hard luck, and then he went to do media.” 

“Why would he lie? He said you told him the DNF was his fault, which it wasn’t, by the way, and then you watched the replays and backtracked. Are you trying to ruin your drivers’ confidence?” 

Getou frowns, racking his brain as Gojo jabs a finger into the centre of his chest. “I- oh. I didn’t say anything to him, but I said to Kamo that he could’ve avoided it, right after, he might’ve heard it as he came in.” 

“You’re an idiot!” 

“I didn’t even know he heard! And saying he could’ve avoided it is different to saying it was his fault-!” 

“You think he knows that? He jumps to conclusions faster than he drives a car!” 

Getou stares at him in shock for a few moments, then laughs out loud. So loud that someone walking past turns and looks at them. Gojo feels his face go red. 

“I forgot that you defend the kids like this,” Getou grins, “did you really think I would’ve said that to him?” 

“No, but I- it’s been a while,” swallowing, Gojo takes a step back. “Anyway, I have to go to the drivers’ briefing- and-” 

“Okay, stop.” Getou says, and he doesn’t even reach out. He just folds his arms across his chest, and his voice alone is immobilising. Gojo watches the way his shirt creases across his arms. He’s filled out so much, like he was meant to when they were younger, he thinks. He wants to see all of it. He doesn’t ask. That would be insane. He’s insane. 

“Look, I’ll talk to him, offer him a lift back to the hotel. The team is celebrating tonight but I doubt he’ll want to go. I don’t really want to drink tonight, either, I’m too tired.” Getou sighs, long and deep, “I didn’t mean to hurt him over something that couldn’t be helped.” 

“I trusted you to like- not be doing that,” he feels dumb. Gojo feels dumb saying it. He knows his cheeks are so red, right now. Getou has this uncanny ability to make him feel like a teenager all over again when they talk. Like an overgrown kid in karting, not a six-time world champion with the world at his feet. 

“Right.” Getou frowns, and something flashes across his features, but he says nothing. “Thanks.” 

“Yeah. I- I’m going, to the briefing. I’ll-” see you around? “Bye.” 

He doesn’t stick around to see Getou’s response. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FIVE - TOP TEN

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Yuuta OKKOTSU (+2)	Scuderia Keicho	91
2	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	81
3	Yuuji ITADORI (-2)	Scuderia Keicho	76
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	56
5	Nanami KENTO (-1)	Sengoku	55
6	Toge INUMAKI (+1)	Sengoku	44
7	Mai ZENIN (-1)	Meiji	36
8	Mei MEI (+1)	Haein	29
9	Iori UTAHIME (-1)	Kyoto G1 Team	18
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	17

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS’ CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FIVE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Scuderia Keicho (=)	167
2	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	137
3	Sengoku (=)	99
4	Meiji (=)	53
5	Haein (=)	32
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	19

 

—

May 2005, Japan

 

“Getou, track walk, come on!” Haibara shouts, from outside the motorhome. Suguru can hear the smile on his face. 

He stares down at the bowl of yoghurt and fruit he’s been trying to eat for the last half an hour. It was already too squishy to eat half an hour ago, which is why it’s taken him this long. Since Suguru’s been staring at it, it’s only gotten worse. 

His and Haibara’s team doesn’t dictate a weight they have to be, unlike some of the other teams on the grid in Grade Four. But they do have nutritionists and meal plans now, and workout plans, too. Suguru knows that they’re still one of the stricter teams on the grid for it, because they’re a junior team rather than a Grade Four team, representing the brand of a team that has its main team in Grade One. 

Satoru, in the Sengoku junior team, has the same thing, after all. Nanami and Shoko, who are in a team that only competes in Grade Four, don’t: they just get judged on their performances out on track. 

But it’s harder on Suguru in particular, because his funding depends on his performance, and his funding decides if he gets a seat again next year. And it’s ruthless. If he follows the diets they set, and the workout plans, and smiles for them big and bright and wide, then the only reason for finishing in the midfield is him being a rookie, which is an acceptable reason. Because at least then, he’s working hard. That’s what his dad tells him, when they call on the phone. 

Haibara shouts again, “Getou? You in there?” 

Despite Getou saying numerous times he could call him Suguru, Haibara still calls him Getou, out of respect. It’s sweet, really. 

Suguru groans and leaves the bowl on the side. He’ll eat it later. Or maybe he’ll blend it up and swallow it back and try not to gag at the texture. It’s whatever. 

He opens the door and heads down the steps to see Haibara beaming back up at him, and he can’t help but smile. 

Technically, they’ve already walked the track. Earlier in the day, it was one of the first things they did with the whole team, and their coaches and a couple of the engineers. But Satoru had pulled him away from everything on the first race of the season and insisted on him, Shoko and Suguru walking it together because of tradition. Haibara had tagged along, and so had Nanami, and Shoko had shyly asked if Utahime wanted to come too. 

So now there’s a group of them, and they all rewalk the track in the evenings and offer advice, or just chat about their teams, and the feeling of the cars, and everything else. Haibara grabs him and they walk off, and he’s chatting already about something the engineers said to him. 

Satoru lights up when he sees him. They’re already waiting by the start line, and Shoko is wearing her hair down, grinning when she sees Haibara and Suguru approaching. 

The sun is beginning to set, now. Satoru comes over and immediately starts bumping shoulders with him, explaining something about graining on the track with big hand movements. Utahime watches them with a frown on her face, and shrugs as they start walking. 

“Anyway- in turn one-” 

Nanami groans, “enough about turn one, Gojo, you’ve been talking about it all day-” 

“Someone crashed here last year! And it’s gonna happen again, I bet-” 

Utahime sighs, deep and long. “He is right. It’s a weird corner, lots of potential for an incident,” she says, “although I hate agreeing with him.” 

“See!” Satoru crows, “and she has the most experience, so I’m right!” 

This is Utahime’s third season in Grade Four. People are saying it’s the last one she can afford before she either quits or goes to Grade Three. She’s on a tipping point.

Maybe, in a way, he understands her because of it. 

For them, racing here is do or die. For everyone else, it’s a sport. 

Utahime whacks Gojo around the scruff of his neck. He yelps and Haibara laughs, telling her she’s mean. Shoko says it’s funny. 

 

—

 

Utahime wins the race the next day. Gojo comes in second, and despite being on edge all weekend and qualifying in the midfield earlier, Suguru manages to drag his car across the line for third: a podium. His first podium finish in Graded Racing (with the capital letters and everything). And he shares it with Satoru. 

They clamber out of their cars in Parc Ferme, and Suguru is grinning under his helmet. He thinks Satoru can tell, because he can tell that his friend is smiling, laughing, despite only being able to see his eyes through his helmet. 

And then Satoru is running towards him, and their helmets are knocking together, and they stumble back, and Suguru can hear it. The laughter. Their bodies press together under the late afternoon sunshine, through race suits and sponsor logos and layers of nomex. They might as well be a part of their bodies at this point, along with the branded team gear they have to wear all weekend. 

But their fingers touch, because they’ve taken their gloves off, and Satoru laughs, bright and loud, “you were amazing! Oh my god, we’re on the podium together! I get to spray you with champagne on your first podium!”

Suguru wants to argue back that it’s not real champagne. You don’t get real champagne until you get to Grade Two. But the words die on his tongue, because it doesn’t matter.

The champagne isn’t real, but Satoru’s smile is. The way their bare hands are still clasped together, in the middle of parc ferme, is. The way their shoes tap together, stepping on each other on the tarmac, wearing in each other’s footsteps? That’s real. 

So maybe it doesn’t matter that the champagne isn’t real, when they’re on the podium in the dying light, and Satoru grins at him. It’s devilish. His hair is spiked all in different directions from the balaclava and the sweat. 

Utahime shakes the bottle, grinning because this is her win, after all. Suguru plans to drench her first, he really does, but Satoru is on him before he can, spraying him right in the face. He almost chokes on it, and splutters, and then Utahime is spraying Gojo, with a satisfied expression making its way onto her features. Suguru follows suit. 

He ignores the way his chest tightens when Satoru wipes the not-champagne from his face, from his lips, from his hair. He ignores the way that his friend’s flushed skin and dazzling grin makes him feel like a kid, standing on a podium with a bottle in his hand, rather than a real racing driver. He’s still a kid. But he’s also a real racing driver. Always toeing the line between the two. 

To Utahime, he is a kid. To Haibara, he is a racing driver, with real sponsors, and a drive to succeed, and good results and talent. 

But Satoru is looking at him like he sees both of those things at once. 

He ignores the way it makes him feel. Because what else can he do?

 

—

 

May 2022, America

 

Gojo is the last one to shuffle into the room, late because of his conversation with Getou. He apologises, and sits quietly next to Yuuji, whispering, “Getou’s gonna talk to you, he didn’t mean it.” 

Yuuji frowns, and goes to open his mouth, but Tengen interrupts them. “So, now that we’re all here-” he clears his throat, “any questions about the race?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” Nobara says, from her spot next to Yuuji, “why the hell was Zenin not given a penalty?” 

Yuuji tenses beside Gojo. He doesn’t want to be talking about this at all, he knows. Reliving the crash and the cruel luck of the day is like pouring salt in the wound. From his place in front of them, next to Nanami, Megumi turns slightly, sensing Yuuji’s discomfort. But he can’t do anything, not here. 

“The regulations are designed to be more lenient off the line,” Tengen says, calmly, “because of the nature of the start, it is easy to make mistakes.” 

“I’ve been penalised for less, on turns one and two,” Nanami cuts in, “so is the leniency because this is a new track?” 

“The stewards have made it clear that it was a turn one incident and that leniency was allowed.” 

“She bowled out like, five cars,” Nobara huffs, “so do we all get a free pass on turn one for stupid racing?” 

“It wasn’t stupid racing, I was trying to get an overtake that didn’t work, and Yuuta gave me no room.” 

“It wasn’t your line.” Yuuta says, and normally he’s pretty cool-headed, but he’s sour, now. He’s playing with the ring around his neck, seemingly to calm himself. “I didn’t need to leave the space, even if I could, which I couldn’t, because I had Gojo next to me, who did have the racing line.” 

“You could see me in your wing mirrors,” Mai says. 

Yuuta huffs, the closest he’ll get to shouting in a space like this. “Yeah, and we’re just gonna have another Riko, or another Haibara, if you race like that-!”

“Do not compare me to those-” 

“Alright, alright, calm down everyone,” Tengen says, “the penalty wasn’t given, and it can’t be given post-race. Are there any other concerns? About the track?” 

“Sorry, we still have no clarification on the rules, because someone seems to be able to ignore them,” Nobara huffs, folding her arms and leaning back, “these meetings are for clarifying legislation, too, right?” 

“Well, yes, and we will take another look, but-” 

There is a cleared throat and a shaky but firm voice from the corner of the room. “You can race however you want as long as you are a Zenin?” 

Inumaki doesn’t say much. Gojo isn’t quite sure on the details- it’s not anything physical, and in theory, doctors say that he should be able to speak just fine. But he can’t. Not very often, anyway. The only thing he ever says on the radio is copy, pretty much. He doesn’t do any interviews without a sign language translator, who speaks for him if he gets a podium. 

So when he does speak, it hollows out the room around him. Everyone turns to look. He looks back at Tengen with a piercing gaze, daring him to say otherwise. 

“Well- no-” 

“Oh, bullshit,” Nanami says, and the whole room devolves into chaos. Gojo should be angrier about this. His race was affected by Zenin’s reckless racing, after all. But he’s much more concerned by the way Yuuji slumps in his chair, saying nothing at all, blinking slowly. 

 

—

 

It’s not about Mai. It’s never been about Mai. She’s in a midfield car, with no real shot at the championship, and a penalty won’t change the fact that at times she’s a dangerous racer. It’s not going to change her driving style, and she’s probably not going to learn her lesson. 

So, it’s not about Mai. It’s about Toji. And what happened the last time the higher-ups didn’t apply penalties properly. No one wants a repeat. That’s why Nanami strips off his cool exterior and growls at Tengen in the argument. It’s why Inumaki says the most he’s said all season. It’s why Gojo and Megumi stay quiet. 

 

—

 

July 2005, Japan

 

The forecast for the weekend is abysmal. Truly, honestly horrific. It started raining when they were about half an hour out of the race track, and it hasn’t stopped yet. They did their usual track walk in the pouring rain, half-running through it because despite all the waterproof layers, they were getting completely and utterly drenched. 

In fact, Satoru fell over running, skidding across the tarmac and slicing his palms open. But everyone was laughing at it, including Satoru himself, and when Suguru went to pull him up, he’d slipped again, and dragged him down with him. Haibara had screeched with laughter, and Shoko cried out that she was gonna piss myself, oh my god .

Suguru had gotten Satoru’s blood on his hands and winced: he hated the sight of it. But Satoru noticed, and wiped it off, and then washed it off both of their hands in the sink of their motorhome, with Suguru’s chin tilted up so he didn’t have to look. 

In return, Suguru was rubbing antiseptic into Gojo’s hands whilst he winced and hissed through his teeth. 

“What does it feel like, a podium?” Haibara says, turning to look at- well, Suguru isn’t sure who he’s looking at. Satoru, or Suguru. They’re nearly always next to each other, and this could be directed at either of them. 

“Uh-” Suguru glances at Satoru, and thinks he’s not really qualified to answer this question. He’s only been on the podium once, so far. He’s been pretty close a couple of times, but compared to both Satoru and Utahime, who’ve barely been off it this entire season, it seems silly to ask him. So Haibara is asking Satoru, definitely. 

“You wanna know what it feels like?” Satoru grins, reaching the hand that Suguru isn’t holding behind his back to grab a can of lemonade, unopened. Haibara grins, still looking up at their faces and completely missing the action. Behind him, Suguru hears Shoko lean over and reach for a can, too. 

“Yeah, of course I wanna know, I can’t wait, like-” 

Satoru grins, shaking the can vigorously behind his back. “Yeah?” 

“It looks so fun up there, with the champagne and stuff-” 

Satoru opens the can and sprays it in Haibara’s face, who splutters and chokes on the lemonade. Shoko, from the other side, opens up her can too, and then Haibara is screeching and they’re all laughing and Utahime is crowing, “you’re gonna have to clean this up, y’know!” 

 

—

 

It doesn’t stop raining for qualifying. 

Here’s the thing about rain: it’s an equaliser. It’s a test. 

In the rain, grip on the track is hard to find. Suddenly, the race becomes more of a test of skill than it was before. If you don’t have a true feel for the car, it becomes glaringly apparent. 

Which means the pressure is on: if Suguru can prove himself here, he proves he’s not just skilled, not just a hard worker, and proves that he has potential. For real Grade Racing. The kind of Grade Racing that travels the globe, not just the country. 

He’s been learning English, lately. From Satoru, and Haibara, and his mechanics. He’s praying that one day it comes in useful. When you get to Grade Three, and Two, and One, you have to speak English. Suguru’s trying to get ahead of the game. 

(He ignores that most of his peers can already speak English, or other languages, from time abroad on expensive holidays, and time racing and fancy boarding schools.) 

He knows he’s a better racer than most of them. He knows that with more practice time, he can be almost as good as Satoru. 

“Any chance of it being cancelled?” Shoko groans, looking out the windows. They’re really not supposed to be together, right now, since all three of them are on different teams, but they’ve fallen into a routine of warming up together. Satoru is holding a resistance band for her, and she’s leaning back against it, twisting her shoulders. In a moment, they’ll swap, and Suguru will hold the bands for Satoru to do the same thing. 

“Nah,” Satoru wrinkles his nose, “but they probably should,” 

“Why? You like the rain.” 

“I wanna race,” Satoru says, “and I think we’ll be fine, but there’s people on the grid right now who won’t be. It’s gonna be carnage.” 

Shoko hums, “it’s gonna be my first time racing with wet tyres,” 

 

—

 

Suguru qualifies P2. He’s over a second clear of his teammate, about two tenths off Satoru on pole, and over half a second clear of the rest of the field. 

He holds onto the second place for the first race, and he and Satoru stay close to each other the whole time. He laps Haibara twice, in the same car. 

He and Satoru share all three podiums that weekend. Utahime joins them on one. He can still smell the champagne on his hair on the way home when Satoru texts him.

 

Gojo Satoru : my team boss wants 2 sign u 4 next yr

Gojo Satoru : dont tell him i told u lol, they dk if utahime has a g3 seat yet

Gojo Satoru : we’re gonna be teammates

Gojo Satoru : !!!!!! we’re lit gonna be unbeatable tg yk

 

—

 

YOUNG DRIVERS TO WATCH: Who will be Grade One’s next stars? - Opinion Piece in Feeder Series

 

Written by Tanaka Akiko, 31 July 2005

 

All eyes have been on an extremely wet race in Japanese Grade Four this weekend as the drivers took to the track to prove their worth in difficult conditions. Gojo Satoru, son of the Grade One World champion Gojo Kiyoshi was on fine form, qualifying on pole for Sengoku G4 Team, and, in what may have been a surprise to some, Getou Suguru for Haein Junior G4 Team was right behind him. 

Also impressive this weekend: Utahime Iori for Sengoku, Gojo’s teammate, made her way through the field well in both races on Sunday for two podium finishes after having a difficult Friday. She maintains her lead in the overall standings, showing her experience well. Kento Nanami also impressed, finishing in the top ten in every race and qualifying P7, his best results yet in his rookie season. 

But regardless, the standout drivers throughout in difficult conditions have been the fifteen year old Getou Suguru and his self-proclaimed best friend from Karting, Gojo Satoru. Both of them remained on the podium for all three races after qualifying well, and maintained a lengthy gap to the rest of the field throughout. 

“It’s nice, to race in the rain,” Gojo said, after his win in race two, “I like a challenge, and the rain makes it harder in the braking zones, in the high speed sections, everywhere, really. And because Suguru [Getou] was out there challenging me, it made it even better.” 

Meanwhile, Getou had similar things to say of his friend: “he challenges me, we race each other cleanly, and sometimes he beats me and sometimes I beat him… We’re friends, it’s a good kind of rivalry, right now. The rain makes everything more fun, more challenging. It’s an opportunity to prove ourselves.” 

The way these two drivers rate each other so highly is something rare to see: even Gojo’s own teammate didn’t share the same sentiments that Getou did. Even so, despite this, the gap that Getou and Gojo put in between themselves and the rest of the field in the rain - in equalising conditions - is something to not be overlooked. 

Gojo Satoru has long been considered something of a generational talent after his dominant performances in karting, and now his performances in Grade Racing against much more experienced racers are turning heads too. But despite this, Getou Suguru, who has been nipping at Gojo’s heels since their karting days, has been overlooked, and now has proved that he deserves his seat and his place in Grade Racing right next to Gojo, with even less experience - this is still his rookie season. 

They share their initials, and they share a talent, too, one that shouldn’t be passed up on by teams looking to fill their seats for next season. With them being so far away from the rest of the field, their rivalry could be the next big thing: a once-in-a-generation spectacle reminiscent of the Haein rivalry. 

 

—

May 2022, America

 

Gojo has to stay in the States for a few days after the race finishes. He doesn’t mind, really, because he’s recognised less, here, and if he puts on a cap and a mask, he rarely is at all. He doesn’t get that kind of reprieve in Europe. 

Megumi is staying, too. They’re here to fulfil media duties, film promotions, all that jazz. His younger teammate isn’t really comfortable in front of all the cameras, yet, but Gojo manages to get him to laugh, most of the time, now, which is a bonus. 

He knows that Yuuji and Nobara are staying too, because Grade One has organised a meet and greet slash exhibition drive in New York, and a bunch of teams are showing up. Gojo is getting to drive his old car from the 2012 season: his first world championship. He can’t wait. 

He gets to sit in the cockpit, hear the engine roar beneath him, and remember how it felt to cry at the wheel as he crossed the line when he does donuts in a random city street. So, he’s living the dream, really. 

Yuuji’s going to be there, too, and Yuuta. They’re driving some old Keichos, but Gojo isn’t entirely sure what season they were from. But all of them are pre-halo, so. There’s that. 

It’ll feel strange to drive without it, and like coming home all at once. Gojo hasn’t done an exhibition drive for a while. 

They fly over a day after the race, and stay in a hotel for one night before the chaos begins. The crowds are pressed up against barriers, and their first duty is to go up and down signing things, accepting presents. Gojo ends up with an ungodly amount of bracelets, because at some point last year, he made the mistake of saying in an interview that his favourite gift from a fan was a little handmade bracelet that he got back in 2013, with his number on it. 

(He still wears the bracelet, and it has Getou’s number on it, too. He didn’t say that in the interview, though.)

He still likes the sentiment, though. He gets some with his initials, some with his number, some with nothing apart from the Jujutsu colours. Some have the letters of quotes from interviews and things, which he has to admit is super creative. Yuuji and Megumi end up with bracelets, too, and Gojo watches as they admire them together. 

“Hey, we should swap,” Yuuji says, “we can have each other’s,” 

Megumi agrees. He keeps touching the bracelet as he follows Gojo: a pink bracelet with YI-83 on it. Yuuji’s initials, and Yuuji’s racing number. He knows Yuuji has one that’s blue and red, with MF-35. It’s cute. 

Megumi gets pulled away to do a silly short video with Nobara and Yuuji, and Gojo hangs back to watch, waiting for his turn. They want him after. Just short little interviews, is what they want. Something easily digestible. 

He turns his head to watch as a group of people start pushing his car towards the middle of the tarmac. It’s just as beautiful as he remembers, with new tyres bolted on and his number pasted on the front. Thirty-seven. 

Someone whistles lowly from beside him, and Gojo turns to see Getou standing there, a self-satisfied smile on his face, “it’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” 

Gojo swallows, “yeah,” because this car wasn’t just his. It was Getou’s too, from when they were teammates. Their first year as teammates, before everything went to shit. If you flipped the numbers on the car, it would be his. Seventy-three, and thirty-seven. Never apart. 

Gojo had picked his number specifically to match Getou’s, and then when he left, he had taken on the number one. The choice a champion is allowed to make. 

“I didn’t know you were here,” Gojo says, looking decidedly at the car, and not at Getou, “I thought you were in Barcelona.” 

“I’m leaving tonight,” Getou says, easily, “but they wanted me here. To make an appearance.” 

“They should have had you drive the car,” Gojo grins, “it would send everybody wild,” 

Because it was. Getou was beloved in his time as a driver, and is still missed on the grid today. If he got back in a Grade One car, even just for an exhibition, it would be good publicity. Generate views, and all that jazz. 

Getou laughs, “I’m too out of shape,” 

Gojo doesn’t believe him, with the way he looks, now. Sure, his neck is skinnier, but he’s filled out everywhere else: his chest, his arms, his thighs. And besides, you don’t need to be in shape to drive for an exhibition like this, not really. 

“You could do it in your sleep,” 

“They offered,” Getou says, then, “I said no.” 

“Why?” Gojo replies, turning away from his car to look at Getou, “are you scared?” 

“It was the 2003 Haein.” He says. The conversation, and Gojo’s attempt at humour with it, dies. 

“Oh. Why the hell would they even-” 

“No, it’s fine, I get it. It was- it was Kenjaku’s car, anyway, not Sukuna’s, but- it still-” 

“They asked you to drive the Haein that someone died in, and didn’t think that would be a bad idea?” 

Getou snorts, “you’re so righteous. It’s just a car. One of the greatest cars ever built,” 

“You say that, but you turned it down,” 

“Yeah, I did turn it down.” 

Gojo swallows. He remembers that day in Monaco. He doesn’t remember the crash itself, not really, but he remembers the dawning panic on Getou’s face when they realised Sukuna wasn’t getting out. He remembers Yaga’s gritted teeth and the vice-like grip on his arm as they were dragged out of hospitality. 

He knows it was bad. He doesn’t remember the details. Maybe that’s a blessing. Because he knows that Getou does remember. He remembers the blood on the car, and the way it crumpled, and the way Sukuna didn’t move after. He’s told Gojo, before, in the aftermath of crashes in their own careers. In the aftermath of near misses. 

“You’re still the same, then.” 

Getou laughs. It’s dizzying: the sound of it. 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

The ground sways beneath his feet as Getou excuses himself for an interview and someone gives Gojo his helmet to get in the car. 

The world is cruel, Gojo thinks, as he puts his foot on the throttle. 

 

Notes:

cw: eating disorder talk specifically relating to sensory difficulties eating, mentions of character death.

HOPE U ENJOYED!!! I am so insane about this au. like literally so insane. I've written 10k in 5 days. pray for me. next chap won't be as quick bc uni is picking up but see u all next time!! comment and kudos to feed my kids!!!<3

Chapter 6: vi - gravel trap

Summary:

Noun. A bed of gravel on the outside of corners designed with the aim of bringing cars that fall off the circuit to a halt.

Notes:

warning here for some talk of a kiss between an underaged chara and overaged chara (more details in end notes if needed) added it here because its not tagged and idrk how to tag it, lol. more warnings in end notes

please kudos and comment so i can feed my kids! :) please don't pay too close attention to my knowledge of feeder series, here, thanks! it is not accurate, but i cant find a reliable source to make it accurate, so! oh well!

enjoy!

January 2006, Japan

 

“What’re you calling me for?” Suguru groans as he picks up the phone. He’d been half-asleep on the sofa when his phone rang. It was Satoru. Suguru didn’t even know if he was in the country or not. 

“You didn’t sign for Sengoku. You declined their offer, and now they’re looking at the other drivers,” Satoru blurts out, all in a rush. His voice crackles over the line. 

Suguru sits up, and rubs a hand across his face. “I- Satoru,” 

“What? You promised, we’d be teammates this year! They wanted you and everything, it’s perfect,”

Suguru’s dad had warned him against it, before he’d even seen the contract. “You’ll be second to him, and you need to win if you have a chance at a seat in Grade Three,” 

Suguru had kind of ignored his dad. He really wanted to be teammates with his best friend. Share the same garage, motorhome, the same meals and the same training plan. He’d be second to Satoru wherever he signed, but being on the same team? He’d give anything. He voiced that sentiment to him, in a less embarrassing way. 

“You’ll be compared to him more than before, though. I don’t want to put you off, but- it might make things difficult for the two of you,” his dad had said. Suguru had scoffed. They were stronger than that. There was nothing Satoru could do to make him hate him, and vice versa. 

Then he’d read the contract. 

“Look, Satoru, they only- they only wanted to cover half my costs,” 

“What? I thought Haein only covered half your costs, anyway.” 

“No,” Suguru sighs. This is the one thing that they don’t see eye to eye on, sometimes. Satoru just- forgets. That he can’t afford to race without serious help. “Haein fully funds me, they told me they’d give me the same contract again, that last season I did well enough. They’re renewing Haibara, too, I think.” 

“Are you kidding? What if Sengoku covered your costs? The boss really wanted you, I thought they’d offer you a better deal,” 

Suguru laughs hollowly. Teams at this level don’t need good drivers to prove themselves. The drivers need the teams. There’ll be a million younger drivers wanting that seat and be willing to pay for it. The fact his seat right now is funded is a miracle. But Satoru doesn’t understand that. “If they wanted to, they would,” he says, “we’re still gonna be racing together, it’ll be the same.” 

“Have you signed for Haein?” Satoru blurts. “I can-” 

“Yeah. I signed the contract yesterday,” Suguru says, “I’m lucky, you know I’m lucky.”

There’s a pause. Satoru breathes deeply on the other side of the line. “I don’t believe in luck. You’re a good driver. That’s why you have your seat.” 

He’s also in the right place at the right time, but whatever. 

“I’m sorry we can’t be teammates,” 

“It’s okay, we’ll be teammates next year,” Satoru says. He sounds sure of himself. Suguru laughs, and allows himself to indulge in it. 

“Yeah, we will.” 

He’s sixteen, soon. The average age of entry to Grade One is twenty-one. He has no idea how he’s going to do it, but he’s going to get there. 

He hears Satoru grin on the end of the line. “If not, we’ll be teammates eventually! In Grade Two, or Grade One,” 

“Hey, why not Grade Three?” Suguru laughs, “where are you, right now, anyway?” 

“Tokyo,” Satoru says, then switches languages, “wanna practise your English?” 

Suguru groans, and tips his head back, “Yes, I do want to practise,”

Satoru laughs. Suguru would do anything for him.

 

—

BREAKING: Gojo Satoru signs for Sengoku Junior Team in Grade Three – in Feeder Series / Grade Three News

Written by Suzuki Hiroshi, 26 January 2006

 

In what may be considered a shock move to many, the sixteen-year-old Grade Four driver Gojo Satoru, son of ex-Grade One driver Gojo Kiyoshi, who raced with Scuderia Keicho for a decade, has signed to Sengoku’s Grade Three team for 2006, and signed to their Driver Development Program under a two-year contract. Following his recent retirement, he said he’s been focussing on his only son’s future career in motorsport, and it seems that this focus is paying off. 

At sixteen, Gojo is remarkably young for a seat in Grade Three, and the youngest signing to a major team since Sukuna’s signing to Grade Three at seventeen for Haein’s junior team in 1985. His Grade Four teammate and current Japanese G4 champion, Utahime Iori, will race alongside him, in a deal that has been confirmed since November of last year. 

“He is an impressive young talent,” Sengoku’s team boss, Kaneko Haru, says of Gojo, “he is definitely an immense prospect for our development and for a future in Grade One. He consistently outraces his peers with more experience than him, and has had impressive performances in difficult conditions. It makes sense for us to lock him in as our future,” 

Gojo himself seems thrilled, “I was going to spend another year in Grade Four, but… I’m glad the circumstances changed, and I was able to take this seat. I’m excited to race in a higher level and in a faster car, and I can’t wait to prove that I deserve this.” 

 

—

 

May 2022, Spain

 

They’re sharing the same hotel again in Barcelona. Which feels so ridiculous, because Gojo knows that, more often than not, the Grade One teams will book hotels near each other, or the same ones, because there’s always ones that are willing to do discounts in exchange for the bulk bookings. The drivers usually end up somewhere nicer than the many miscellaneous staff members and engineers travelling with them, but so do team principals. 

They’re not on the same floor, this time, Gojo thinks. He hasn’t seen Getou like he did in Melbourne, but that’s fine with him. 

They used to share hotel rooms, when they were both in Grade One together, even before they were teammates. It was a Suguru-and-Satoru thing, a Getou-and-Gojo thing. Even if they weren’t officially in the same hotel, they ended up in the same room, in the same bed. More often than not, intoxicated after the celebration of the week. Getou would be wine drunk, Gojo beside him keyed up on something that was decidedly not alcohol. Sometimes Shoko would stumble in with them, too, all loose limbed and giggly, and they’d talk and laugh and order room service at obscene times of night. 

Gojo had thought everything was fine, at that point. It hadn’t been.

So, yeah, they used to share hotel rooms, a team, a life. Now they’re not even in the same corridor. And no one really understands apart from Getou, and for obvious reasons, he can’t talk to him about it. That would be ridiculous. 

The week starts horribly. He oversleeps his alarm and wakes to someone banging on his door, and then has to rush getting ready for media day. His outfit is basic: baggy navy cargo pants and a tight, sleeveless crop top with a half zip that shows the lines of his hips and his stomach. He wears a necklace (or three) with it, and puts earrings in and rings on. 

His critics say he’s a show-off and that media day isn’t a fashion show. He disagrees. It’s not his fault he’s become so recognisable that he doesn’t need to wear team merch anymore! He’s Satoru Gojo, driver number thirty-seven, (almost) the Greatest Of All Time, and he drives for Jujutsu Technical Racing. He’s raced for them for over a decade, and everyone knows it, and he doesn’t need to wear some shitty cap to show his loyalty. That’s ridiculous. He’s never leaving.

Megumi rolls his eyes at him when he clambers into the car to drive them to the track. “So that’s why you’re late.” 

“I don’t know what you mean, Megs. I look fabulous.” 

Megumi rolls his eyes. He’s wearing a Jujutsu cap with his spiky hair sticking out underneath it from all sides. His number is on the brim, and his team shirt and skinny jeans are an eyesore. 

“It’s not a fashion show.” 

“Just because you look ugly doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me,” Gojo grins. Megumi huffs and slumps in his seat. “Don’t be grumpy, you know today’s gonna be easy for us.” 

Over the last two days, a speculative news story had dropped about unrest in the Keicho camp. About the car being built and developed to Yuuta’s preferences, and not Yuuji’s. Yuuji being unhappy in the team. Gojo, personally, thinks it’s ridiculous, but fans love to speculate about who’s better or worse, and that often means talking about things they know nothing of. The news story had just stoked the fire. 

“Yeah.” Megumi sighs. “I got an email from PR. Apparently the reporters are gonna be on one about Keicho this weekend.” 

And as their closest competitors, it’s still going to manifest into questions for them. 

“How’s Yuuji?” 

Megumi grimaces, and that’s all the answer Gojo needs. But he actually offers up a full sentence, too: “he’s- he’s pretty annoyed about it, to be honest. But I dunno if the story is true,” 

Gojo shrugs, “I don’t think it’s true. It doesn’t make sense for them to bank so much on Yuuta.” 

“He’s a world champion.” Megumi says, deadpan. “He has the number one on his car. They have every reason to bank on him, over Yuuji.” 

“I’ll tell you something, if you promise you won’t tell Yuuji about it.” 

Megumi looks at him like he’s not sure if Gojo’s about to grow a second head. “Sure.” 

“You have to promise.” He holds out a pinkie for dramatic effect. 

“Seriously?” 

“Deadly. Come on, Megs.” 

Megumi takes his finger with such force that it almost rips it out the socket. “Deal. Come on.” 

“I think Yuuji’s the better driver out of the two of them. And Yuuta’s good, but Yuuji has something else. And he just needs to be consistent.” 

“Huh.” Megumi frowns, reaching down to pat Toto between his knees. “But Yuuta’s world champion. He races with the number one on his car,”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Gojo says, and Megumi is graceful enough to accept it for what it is. 

 

—

 

He walks straight into Getou on his way to his scheduled pre-race press conference. Like, completely, unceremoniously, straight into him, sunglasses toppling straight off his face and water bottle spilling over the both of them. 

Immediately, the bright sunlight hurts his eyes, and his head spins. He blinks, twice, and reaches out-

Getou is already handing him the sunglasses, face screwed up in discomfort because most of the water got all over his shirt, and his left eyebrow is twitching like it does when he’s mad. “Here.” 

“Thanks. Sorry, I- I wasn’t looking,” 

Getou sighs, and the lines of his face dissolve in front of Gojo’s eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to change this.” 

In the old days, Gojo would’ve whisked him away to their drivers’ rooms and given him a T-shirt with the number thirty-seven on it, for a laugh. They regularly wore each other’s clothes, because with such similar numbers, it was easy to mix it up. No other reasons involved. No flash of something in Gojo’s chest seeing Getou talk to a reporter with his number embroidered over his chest. Nope, not at all. 

He, obviously, can’t suggest that now. So he stands and fiddles with his water bottle, feeling like he’s seventeen and a rookie all over again. Time is a flat fucking circle. 

Getou sighs, long and deep, as he mercifully pulls the damp half-see-through fabric away from his chest. “Right, well, I’ll see you later. You’re already late for that press conference, by the way,” 

“Shit, what time is it?” Gojo steps away, checking his watch, and his face falls when he realises he should’ve been there ten minutes ago. “Oh- okay, sorry, I- sorry!” 

He shouts over his shoulder. He gets to see a glimpse of Getou smiling and shaking his head. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou, Team Principal of Scuderia Keicho, Pre-Race Barcelona Grand Prix 2022 - G1TV Commentary

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: Good to have you back, how do you feel your prospects are for this race?

SUGURU GETOU: Positive. We’ve bought our first major upgrade package, here, so we’re expecting to be ahead of or very close to Jujutsu, but Sengoku also have some upgrades, so we will see. 

YT: What upgrades?

SG: Ha. Wouldn’t you like to know? Ah, no, no, of course I cannot talk about them live. But they’re mostly to do with the aerodynamics. 

YT: I see. So, the other big news-

SG: Listen, I can’t talk about that. The story is fabricated, and there’s currently a lawsuit under way for the breaking of an NDA , so I quite literally cannot talk about this on air. Neither can my drivers. 

YT : Convenient?

SG : I suppose so. Less convenient for you, though, I assume? [laughs]

YT : [laughs] Never change, Suguru. Okay, then, I’ll move on. Your drivers have been a lot more equal in points and race pace than anticipated. I think most of the paddock was expecting Yuuta to outscore Yuuji considerably, and that hasn’t happened. Gojo has come back to form, and he’s going to be a formidable opponent. How are you planning on securing the drivers’ championship for Keicho? 

SG : It’ll be tough with such a formidable opponent, for sure. But we’ll do everything we can to bring it home. 

YT : Well, Jujutsu has, at the moment, a very clear number one driver in Gojo. Will you do the same?

SG : I know what you were asking me, before, thank you. No. Keicho has no number one driver. We are in a very good position with two incredibly talented boys on the team, and they’re allowed to race each other for positions out on track. 

YT : So like you and Gojo were at JTR.

SG : As long as history doesn’t repeat itself, yes. 

YT: Oh, so you’re not looking for a repeat of 2014?

SG: [laughs] No, surprisingly not! Imagine that!

 

—

 

Gojo, unlike a lot of other drivers, likes watching the feeder series, from time to time. Nanami and Shoko both say they’re bored by it: the cars are slower and the stakes, with pretty equal machinery across the board and no constructors’, are much lower. Shoko will perk up and pay attention if there’s a serious talent coming through and turning heads, like Megumi and Yuuji, but otherwise, she’s content to sit and listen to Gojo ramble on about it in a meaningless way. 

Both the grade two and three seasons started in Bahrain with the grade ones, and then the grade twos followed them on the double-turned-triple header to Jeddah. Then they got a break between there and Imola, the lucky bastards, where the Grade Threes joined them again. No feeder series joined them on the new track in Miami, and so now they’re here, in Barcelona. 

Both the grade two and three drivers join them here. In a week, when they head down the road to Monaco, the grade twos will follow them on the double header. 

With all the hecticness of a new season, Gojo hasn’t had time to go down to the grade two paddock yet, but this weekend is quiet, for them. So he excuses himself, and heads down to the support paddock, before free practice one. He won’t have time to watch qualifying later, stuck in debriefs, probably, so he’ll judge from data in a practice session. 

No driver is standing out, yet, in either feeder series, scrabbling for points in the absence of Megumi and Yuuji, who have dominated the last two years separately and left everyone else fighting for scraps. A visit to the paddock there usually is followed by cameras, and shaking hands, and the young drivers looking up at him with stars in their eyes. There’s no generational talent, here. Just a bunch of drivers battling for points. 

Gojo almost likes it better like this, honestly. Not every grade one driver can be a Getou or a Yuuji or a Yuuta. Some have to be Nanamis or Mei-Meis. It’s just the way it is: big fish, in a small enough pond that you’ll get eaten by a shark if you’re not careful. 

He’s pushing his sunglasses up his nose in the Junior Jujutsu garage, watching the girl climb into the car in front of him for the practice session, when he sees it. 

Getou, walking along in front, his arm around a girl. His head is tilted away from them, long hair spilling down his back. It’s tied up, this time, in a low ponytail, but strands still fly away and frame his face in the sunlight. 

Back when he was racing, Gojo used to give Getou hair clips to put on under the balaclava. He used to braid his hair, too. He obviously doesn’t wear any now, but he puts his hand in his pocket, and feels the clips he keeps for Shoko, and wonders rather stupidly if he would like one. 

The girl is short, slight, young, racing suit bunched on her hips. She can’t be much older than Yuuji or Yuuta, caramel hair twisting around her fingers as she pulls it into a low bun. 

Gojo doesn’t recognise her, so she must be a relative rookie, or some midfielder kid with no chance of getting into Grade One at all. But Getou is with her. And he’s talking, a serious look on his face that she’s mirroring, all dedicated and fawn-like. 

She catches Gojo looking at them and scowls, face going stormy, and Getou turns, laughing when he sees who it is. “Ah, Gojo! Having fun?” 

The girl is still behind Getou staring daggers at him, so he just smiles, stepping out of the Jujutsu garage. Now that he can see her in the light, he can see the girl is in Sengoku colours. So not part of Getou’s drivers’ academy, or his team. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says. It might be overly sweet, but hey, if it annoys this kid any more, he’ll take it. “Who’s this?” 

Getou swallows, “this is Hasaba Nanako, she’s been promoted from grade three this season, racing for-” 

The girl groans and switches back to English, which is a curveball. “Come on, I need to warm up and Mimi wants to see you before she starts too,” 

“Right,” Getou laughs, light, “I’ll see you later, Satoru.” 

Gojo feels like an idiot standing in the Jujutsu garage. Because this is it. This is what dying feels like. 

 

—

 

April 2006, Japan

 

Satoru isn’t there when they arrive to the first race of the season. For the first time in as long as he can remember, Suguru isn’t racing him. He’s just racing himself, and his teammates, and the other people here who don’t matter half as much as he does. 

Haibara is more than bubbly enough to make up for his absence, but it’s not the same. Especially when Nanami comes out to find them, brushing his hair behind his ear, and Haibara glows like a traffic light retelling some story from his expensive winter break on a yacht in Australia. 

Oh, to be rich enough to chase the sun. 

Shoko is still there, though, and she’s good company. Here they are again, two people down but still so, so happy to be racing, despite it. Suguru’s been keeping up rather obsessively with Grade Three news, recently, too, so there’s that. Satoru won his first sprint race in Bahrain in March, and Suguru saw the photos of him standing on top of his car, brilliant smile more dazzling than the sun on his face. 

Satoru gets to race in Monza, and Brazil, and in Spain and England, but Grade Three doesn’t stop in Japan, this year. So, they won’t see each other, is the thing. It’s not been said, yet, but Suguru knows it deep in his bones and has steeled himself for it. 

For the first time, Satoru has picked a number. Most drivers carry their numbers all the way through to Grade One. He said over the phone, so proud, “well, your number in Grade Four is seventy-three-” that much is true, forty-seven had been taken- “so I picked thirty-seven, cause then when you come to Grade Three with me next season, we’ll match.” 

Suguru had laughed, “what if someone takes it?” 

“They won’t. It’s yours. I’ll kill anyone who tries.” 

Sometimes, Suguru allows himself to hope that Satoru feels just as strongly about him as he does about Satoru. That was definitely one of those times. 

He looks at Shoko in her race suit. He wonders, if he were a girl, whether he’d still be racing by now. Whether he would’ve given up for the chance of an arranged marriage. He feels slightly insane thinking about it, and he doesn’t tell anyone, especially not his dad, who is so proud of him, and not his mom, and not Shoko. She fights just as hard as anyone for her seat. She wouldn’t want to hear about Getou wanting to give his up just for the thing she is so desperate to avoid. 

Him and Haibara warm up together. He likes Haibara. He’s gotten a lot better this season, a lot more switched on and a lot more serious about doing well. The delta between them is no longer thirty seconds in free practice. 

He ends his first qualifying session of the year on pole. None of his friends are anywhere near him in the standings, and he only vaguely knows the two boys that he wraps his arms around for photos. 

It’s equal parts thrilling and empty, smiling for the cameras. 

 

—

 

Just before the final race of the weekend, Suguru catches Haibara hiding in one of the corridors, tapping away on his DS, and laughs immediately. Haibara looks up like he’s been caught, red in the face, and Suguru laughs again.

He goes to sit next to him, resting his head against the wall and bouncing the tennis ball he has in his hands off the wall opposite. He hears the occasional beep of tetris blocks imploding on the screen, and they sit in companionable silence for a while. 

“Do you get nervous?” Haibara says, then, shutting the DS with a snap. 

“About racing?” 

Haibara nods. Suguru takes a moment to think. 

“No.” 

Haibara smiles, weakly, “I don’t think I can do this, like you and Gojo can. He never got nervous either.” 

Suguru opens his mouth to say, well, Satoru’s different, even different to me, but the words die on his tongue. They’re not useful. “Shoko gets nervous. Utahime gets nervous. You just need to learn to channel it in a way that’s useful.”

“Yeah, you’re right!” Haibara nods, “I’ll give every race my all, even if I get scared. Fear is just adrenaline!” 

Suguru grins, “that’s the spirit.” 

 

—

 

Another New Star?: Getou Suguru Shines in absence of Gojo - in Feeder Series / Grade Four News

Written by Sato Haruki, 12 July 2006

 

After the first three races, Getou Suguru, driving for Haein Juniors, has taken a comfortable lead in the Grade Four Championship of Japan. His consistency has been remarkable: two wins and a further two podiums. He’s not finished outside of the top five yet across nine races and nine qualifying sessions. 

His team boss Asahi Kato is full of praise for the younger driver: “he is remarkably consistent, now that he’s gaining the experience that he needs to really compete. Of course, headquarters are keeping an eye on him, we think he’s got a lot of potential.” 

When asked whether he thought a move to Grade Three next season was possible, he seemed less certain: “we are thinking about it. We don’t know if we will have the seat available and he has a long way left to go this season.”

Getou himself seemed pleased with his recent string of results: “yeah, I’m enjoying it, and being able to win makes it better. It’s a long season ahead, though, and I’ve got to keep my head down if I want to win.”

 

—

 

May 2022, Spain

 

The first practice session is nothing short of horrific. The car has decided it doesn’t want to behave, bouncing all over the place, and Gojo huffs down the radio that the brake balance is completely fucked, and the steering keeps snapping, and Megumi’s car doesn’t seem to have the same issues, for some reason.

Which is humiliating, being outpaced by a rookie teammate, but whatever, its practice, and it means precisely nothing. The debrief is long, with Shoko pouring over data differences and delta times and in the end, it turns out its a difference in rear wing loading, and Yaga chews out a staff member who thought the change would be a good idea. 

Free Practice two is better, but the car still bounces, and Gojo manages a three hundred and sixty degree spin that almost lands him in the gravel trap at turn four. 

In grade two, Mimiko Hasaba qualifies on pole. Gojo tries not to think about Mimi , about Getou looking fond in the crowd as he watches his Keicho Junior driver take two points. 

He doesn’t replay the clip of him hugging her after the debrief. 

 

—

 

He’s going insane. This might be it for him, he thinks. Because he’s been doing a deep dive on the Hasaba sisters for the last hour, and distantly, he’s kind of aware that he’s a massive creep, but there’s clearly something more there than just a team principal and junior driver relationship. Getou should have even less time than him to be in the support paddock, and yet, he’s there with an arm around a girl not even from his drivers’ academy.

So far, the spoils of his research are as follows, in no particular order: two private instagram profiles, an abandoned linkedin, a public profile with no photos of Getou on, but a lot of photos of grade three cars, and articles about Mimiko’s potential and signing to Keicho’s development program in 2020. 

There’s race results, too, of course. Mimiko had come P3 in the grade three championship in 2021, behind Megumi and Nobara, and Nanako had finished P5, but with some extraordinary bad luck and a couple of engine failures in the last three races. They’re twins, according to their grade two profiles. The same age as Yuuji and Megumi. Nothing exceptional, but decent drivers nonetheless. 

There are zero details of how they could possibly be linked to Getou. It makes sense. Getou’s always been so private, about everything. He was afraid of the press digging into his life, and shied away from the paparazzi, and everything that came with being famous. Gojo was the same, really. 

If he did know these girls, there’d be something, though. Anything. Are they related to him? They could be cousins or nieces, separated by a surname. He thinks that maybe Getou’s mom had a brother? But they’re both only children, so niece is out of the equation. Maybe half-siblings? If Getou’s mom had remarried after his dad died? But then, they’re too old for that: his dad didn’t die until they were both twenty. 

Getou’s too young to be their dad. Gojo’s sure he would’ve known if he’d accidentally had a kid at thirteen: they were attached at the hip, racing together, travelling to Grade One races together and too busy with the cars to think about much else. Getou never even kissed anyone until he was nineteen. 

He could ask Haibara. But as much as he sees him every other weekend, and talks to him, they’re not really close. Not in the way he and Getou were, the way he and Shoko are. He’s not even really close enough to Nanami to ask. 

Crazy that he and Nanami were teammates for five whole years, longer than he and Getou were teammates, and they were never friends. Not really. 

There’s two universal truths to being teammates. The first is that you are at once so much closer than two competitors, the closest two people on the grid. The second is that, at the same time, you are deeply separate by design. 

He’s only really had four teammates: Mei Mei, when he first got to JTR, Toji, as a rookie, Nanami, after Getou. 

It’s hard to explain, why teammates are so separate when they are a part of you, to someone who’s never driven a car. Hell, it’s even hard to explain to younger grade drivers from the feeder series. 

He wonders if the Hasaba sisters know about him. If they know that Getou left without saying goodbye, and Gojo spat out that he was a coward, and that they were doomed from the start, without either of them knowing it. Being teammates requires separation: Gojo and Getou were part of each other. They could clamber into each other’s heads and read the strategies from body language alone. 

But being teammates requires you to be separate. So they became separate. The issue was that they shared a heart and a brain and lungs and they had to prise the veins apart one by one, and in hindsight, Gojo should’ve seen it happening, tried to stop it. 

But if he got to do it all again, he’d still tell Getou to sign the contract. To race with him. Til Death Do Them Part, except death is retirement after winning a world championship. 

 

—

 

A yellow flag in quali on Saturday absolutely destroys both Jujutsu’s chances at a front row start. They didn’t really have the pace for pole compared to Keicho’s upgrades, anyway, but the lap that Gojo was completing when Inumaki went off into the gravel was definitely quick enough for the top three, at least. But now he’s P-fucking-7 and Megumi is P4, behind a locked out front row for Keicho and Nanami, who seems to be finding pace quite well in the Sengoku. 

Then Inumaki himself gets P5, and Mei Mei is ahead in P6. Mai Zenin starts right behind him, in the same row, and Gojo almost prays for a repeat of Miami, but like, avoiding him preferably. 

He’d be confident in his ability to catch the Keichos from the second row, or even the third, but he wants (needs) the win for the championship, and it’s not enough, really, to just catch them. He needs to beat them. But from the fourth row? 

He voices these concerns in their debrief, and Shoko says, “you’ve come back from worse, you were what, P16 in Baku last year?” 

That’s true. He had to take an engine penalty, and climbed up the pack to win. However-

“This isn’t Baku, though,” 

“It’s not Monaco, either,” Yaga had griped. “It’ll be tough, but we can try our best and that’s all. If we’re in a position to, we can use Megumi to back up the pack.” 

Megumi’s nose had wrinkled at that, “you don’t want me to try and gain positions?” 

On Sunday, it’s rinse and repeat: avoid the grid walkers and wannabe celebrities, sunglasses on, listen to the national anthem, get in the car, wait until the last possible second to squeeze the helmet over your head. 

“Radio check?” Shoko’s voice is clear in his ears as he drives round the formation lap. 

Gojo grins in the helmet and pushes down the button to activate the mic. “ Shame on me for loving you! Can't deny that you've been untrue !” He’s a shit singer, and he knows it, and it annoys Yaga, when he does stuff like this on radio checks. 

“Okay, radio’s good-” Shoko says, and Gojo can hear her smile, so:

“ You lie so sweet but you love to tease -”

“Gojo-”

“Putting out the fire with gasolineeeeeeeee,”

He hears Shoko dissolve into giggles down the radio, “Yaga’s going to die on the pitwall and it’s going to be your fault-”

“ Woah, yeah !” Gojo laughs, and concedes, “sorry, sorry,” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, head down, we need to start well.” 

There’s silence as the engine quivers beneath his legs, and Gojo hovers his fingers over the paddles. 

“Okay, last car pulling up now,” Shoko says. It’s game on. The red lights flicker on, on, on, then out-

Gojo’s foot slams down on the throttle, as he shifts up into second gear, third, fourth, fifth, sixth. He dives straight down the middle, gets a way better start than Inumaki and Mei Mei ahead, and slots in behind Megumi as he downshifts for turn one. 

“Yes! P5, Gojo, keep going,” 

Barcelona is a circuit where overtaking is difficult. Not borderline impossible, like it is in Monaco, but still. One of the harder tracks on the calendar, for sure. 

They all stay close. He can see Inumaki in his rear views, trying for a slipstream, maybe, but the dirty air means he pulls back as they hit the high speed corner of turn three. Gojo presses down on the throttle, seeing the speed reach two-hundred-and-twenty-five kilometres per hour, and then gets on the radio, “hey, will Megumi let me by?” 

He knows it’s a dick move. He knows Megumi did a better job in quali. But he’s not in a title fight. They wouldn’t be drivers if they were selfish. He’s faster. 

“Give us time,” Shoko says, “he will, but not until the pack settles.” 

“Copy.” Gojo says, as they hurtle down the straight to turn four, and then-

Sparks fly, and Megumi swerves in front of him, and there’s a crash. Two cars into the gravel trap. Two cars flying off at speed, and a loose tyre. 

“Yellow flag, yellow flag,” Shoko says, insistent, in his ears, and Gojo slows slightly, holding position behind Megumi. 

“Who is it?” 

“We are checking,” Shoko says, and Gojo remains silent. 

Then, over the radio, “safety car, Gojo. We are staying out.” 

“Who was it?” 

“Itadori and Okkotsu,” he can hear the grimace in her voice. Teammates colliding is never good news, and much less in a title fight where both rivals remained unscathed. 

“Oh shit,” Gojo says, because what else is there to say. To himself, without his thumb on the mic, he says, “hope someone checks on Getou,” 

 

—

 

Nanami is easy enough to pass with DRS. True to their word, the team lets Gojo past Megumi. The whole time he’s on the podium, with Nanami and Inumaki, who passed Megumi around lap fifty, he keeps thinking. 

Thinking about the Keicho debrief, wasting that many points. Crashing out of first and second on a track position track, with their biggest rivals finishing in strong points positions. 

The vibes in there must be rancid. Gojo and Getou only ever crashed into each other once, but Yaga had gone red in the face, screaming at them both. But then again, that had the extra layer of being in front of a home crowd. So. Maybe it isn’t as bad. 

Besides, back in 2014, they hadn’t really been arguing about the crash. It was kind of near the end of the season, and the atmosphere was already thick with tension, and Getou had wanted an excuse to explode. And so had Gojo, to be honest. 

So maybe Yuuji isn’t even being shouted at, right now. 

 

—

 

Before the top three conference after the race, Gojo flags down one of the Jujutsu press officers, and asks to see the video. 

Yuuji was in first. Yuuta swerved, hitting the side of the track. He spun, took them both out. 

“Who’re they saying’s at fault?” Gojo murmurs, and the girl responds, eyes wide. 

“Racing incident. Neither of them.” 

Gojo frowns. From his angle, it looks like Yuuta’s fault. But he’s never been that reckless before.

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SIX - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	106
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	91
3	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	76
4	Nanami KENTO (+1)	Sengoku	74
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	68
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	59
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	46
8	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	33
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	26
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	23

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SIX

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (+1)	174
2	Scuderia Keicho (-1)	167
3	Sengoku (=)	133
4	Meiji (=)	69
5	Haein (=)	38
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	30

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race interview with Suguru Getou, Team Principal of Scuderia Keicho, Spanish Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: What a race, Getou. Both drivers out on the first lap, what happened? 

SUGURU GETOU: Obviously we’ll be debriefing. I don’t know who’s fault it was, but disappointment is an understatement. Both cars crashing out is something which we never want to happen. 

Q: Of course, coming into this weekend, we have seen tensions building between the two drivers vying for that number one spot. Is that tension what caused this?

SG : The tension as you put it wasn’t in our minds. The press likes to make things up. Regardless of being number one, both of them should know better than that. They are more mature than this. Losing close to forty- maybe even fifty points? It’s unacceptable. They know it’s unacceptable. 

Q: Of course, now, with Gojo’s points haul, this puts you behind in both the drivers and constructors championships. How will you handle that going forward?

SG : In the constructors’, the gap isn’t that big, and Jujutsu are still carrying a rookie. We can close it in one race. The drivers’, is of course, a different matter, since Gojo is such a formidable opponent, but at the end of the day, the drivers have themselves to blame for that. 

Q: Oh, and of course, you and Gojo, that rivalry. This crash is- it is pretty similar to the one you two shared in 2014, and we all know, of course, how that turned out. How are you going to stop this rivalry turning sour, like at Jujutsu Tech all those years ago?

SG : The relationship between our drivers and the relationship between Gojo and I as teammates is completely different. Don’t ask stupid questions.

Q: Is it really that different?

SG : Yes, because Gojo and I had history. These two don’t. They need to get it together. 

 

—

 

October 2006, Brazil

 

Suguru wins the Grade Four Championship. Comfortably, even. He can’t compete in Grade Four anymore, now he’s won, which means that the team has been looking into getting him a seat in Grade Three. He’s moving up! He’ll be with Satoru!

Satoru invites him to Brazil. Interlagos. The final Grade Three race of the season, and there’s also the Grade Twos and the Grade Ones driving at the same race. Because he’s with Satoru, he gets a paddock pass, and then Haein, as a reward, offered him a garage pass for the Grade One paddock. 

The cherry on top of the metaphorical cake is that Satoru only has one race on Sunday, in the morning, and then they’re allowed to do whatever they want in the afternoon, after Gojo’s done. They’re going to go and watch the Grade One race, and run for the podium, and honestly, Suguru is just excited to spend time with Satoru again. 

Gojo comes a dismal - according to him - P4 in the Grade Three championship. Suguru thinks it’s pretty good, for a rookie, but Satoru is pissed about it, talking Suguru’s ear off about brake balance all the way back to his drivers’ room. 

They share a hotel room. They sneak a bottle of something alcoholic off one of the engineers, or maybe they bribe him, Suguru doesn’t really know what Satoru does for it. 

All he knows is that they’re halfway through it when Satoru blurts, “a girl kissed me at Silverstone,” 

Suguru frowns. “England?” 

Satoru nods, violently. “Yeah, England, but like, at the track. After I won the sprint, and she was like- oh you looked good up there and-” he makes a bam motion with his hands, eyes wide. “She kissed me.” 

Suguru swallows. The alcohol is making him feel sick, all of a sudden. “Was it Utahime?” 

“No! Ew! Just- she was, like. One of the engineers’ girlfriends, or something.” 

“So you stole someone’s girlfriend?” Suguru grins, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders. Satoru didn’t have a girlfriend, after all, then. He hadn’t been keeping secrets. 

“I didn’t do anything!” Satoru huffs, “I- it’s a secret. She’s like, older, or something.” 

His stomach swoops for a different reason, “how old?” 

“Like, um. Twenty five? Twenty two?” 

“Well, which one is it!” Suguru squeaks, rather undignified, “you’re kissing an old woman!” 

“Twenty three?!” Satoru’s bewildered, now, but there’s a smile on his face, “I dunno, I didn’t ask! I-” his voice goes small, “I- I don’t even know her name. She told me not to tell anyone, like-” he runs a hand through his hair. His white hair, that makes him stand out no matter what-

“Did she- did she do anything else?” 

“No,” Satoru blushes a furious red, “I didn’t even wanna kiss her, man.” 

“Well, why’d you kiss her, then?” 

Satoru laughs, “I didn’t! She kissed me, all, like passionate and shit-” he crawls across the floor to Suguru, and his hands come down heavy on his shoulders as he meets his gaze, “like this. Like-”

“I don’t need a demo!” Suguru squawks, wriggling out of Satoru’s grasp, who giggles nonsensically. 

There’s a lull in their conversation. Suguru thinks distantly about how it feels like there’s bees buzzing in his head, bouncing off his skull. 

“I didn’t like kissing a girl.” Satoru says. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t like it. The girl. It was too sweet.” 

Suguru frowns. “I think that’s more to do with the fact she’s twenty five than the fact she’s a girl.” 

“I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl. Ever.” Satoru blurts. When Suguru turns to face him, his face is red. His chest is jumping up and down. He looks back at Suguru with urgency. “Don’t be stupid, but like. I don’t want to kiss girls.” 

There’s something implied there, Suguru knows. But you can’t be gay and a driver. You can’t. It doesn’t happen. Ever. You can barely be gay, at all, in Japan. 

He’s heard what the mechanics say to each other, in English, where they think he can’t quite understand. The casual jabs at each other. The you on your period ?’s. The why you lookin’ at him like that?’s. The go on, suck his dick at this rate, you might as well!’ s. 

So he’ll blame the alcohol when he tells Satoru, “you’ll find a girl you wanna kiss.” 

Satoru sighs, and shuts his eyes. His breath ghosts Suguru’s arm when he leans in and rests his head on his shoulder. “I hope so.” 

 

—

 

Back home, Suguru gets an email. 

 

Dear Mr. Getou,

We hope this email finds you well. We’re pleased to offer you a seat in Haein Junior G3 Team for the 2007 season– please find attached the contract, terms and conditions and costs associated with racing. 

Many thanks! We hope to see you soon!

 

Suguru frowns when he reads it. Associated costs? They mean no costs, right? He can’t afford anything. They know that. 

He reads the contract. They only want to cover twenty-five percent of the costs. Which means that he has to come up with seventy-five percent himself. 

A season of Grade Three costs one million US dollars. He doesn’t think his dad has earnt that much money in his entire career. 

He dials the number to their head office into their landline and lets it ring. 

“Hello, Haein Office, how can I help you?” 

“Hey, Suki, it’s Getou,” Suguru says, dumbly, “I need to speak to someone- I- I just got my contract through, and I think they mixed me up with someone,” 

“Ah- Getou! Hold on, I’ll transfer you, hold on,” she says, cheerily, and the line rings again, for thirty long seconds as Suguru twirls the phone cord along his fingers. 

“Getou?” The voice comes across the line, and he recognises it immediately as the team boss. He must be in Japan, then. 

“Yes, I- I think you gave me the wrong contract, it only covers twenty-five percent of the costs,” Suguru says. 

Like he’s been expecting it, the man on the other end of the line sighs, “no, that’s right. We cannot waive that many costs for you, Getou, as brilliant as you are.” 

His stomach drops. He feels sick. He might actually throw up. 

“I can’t afford it,”

“You’ll have to bring in sponsors, have you had any offers after the win in Grade Four?” 

“No.” 

“Hm. We’ll try and put you through to some, but of course, if you can’t raise the funds, you can’t race,” 

Suguru hangs up the phone and stands shaking in his hallway. He did what he was supposed to. Why was it not enough? He won, why was it not enough?

 

—

 

He’s crying when he calls Satoru. Satoru can’t tell, of course. He’s gotten really good at steadying his voice, recently.

“I got a Grade Three seat.” 

“Oh my god, in Haein? See I told you-” 

“No, Satoru, I- I can’t afford it. I’m gonna have to quit.” 

There’s silence on the line. Satoru’s voice is determined when he speaks next. “You should move to Europe.” 

“What? I- there’s school and-” 

“Kenjaku did it, to get into Grade One, when he was younger.” Satoru says, matter of fact, “all the way from Australia, and that’s way further away than Japan.” 

“Moving to Europe isn’t gonna give me any more money, Satoru,” Suguru sighs, “and I can’t even get into Grade Three.” 

“You should do a Grade Four series in Italy, or Spain, or England,” Satoru says, “they’re way more competitive, so you can just go and win one of them,” 

“I don’t have any money for another season of Grade Four,” Suguru says, “and I’m not eligible.” 

“There’s GREC, and that’s like, inbetween, so you’re definitely allowed to do that.” Satoru says, “racing is boring without you. Please don’t quit.” 

“Okay,” Suguru says. As soon as he hangs up, he rephones Haein. 

“Um, hi, Suki. It’s me again, can you put me through?” 

 

—

 

May 2022, Spain

 

Gojo only goes into the hotel bar to get a bottle of water, he swears. His room service phone isn’t working. He doesn’t expect to see Getou there, nursing a glass of wine. He almost turns and runs for the hills, water be damned, but then Getou catches his eyes and it’s all over. 

Come to gloat? He mouths, and Gojo goes to him. Like drawn in by a magnetic force. “No,” 

“Why are you here, then?” Getou says, bitter, and Gojo thinks oh, he’s a few glasses down, then. 

“We share a hotel,” pulling up a chair, Gojo sits next to him at the bar, “crazy, right?” 

“You don’t usually spend time at the bar,” Getou says, bite gone from his voice, replaced with something quieter. More resigned. 

“Is that why you’re here?” 

Getou shrugs, swirling his glass in his hand. “Well. Go on then, say your piece about today, I know that’s what you’re here for.” 

Gojo isn’t here for that. He isn’t. He didn’t even really expect to run into Getou, to be honest. They’ve successfully avoided each other all weekend and he hadn’t planned to break it then. But-

“I’ve only seen the replay once.” 

“And?” Getou raises an eyebrow. 

“Yuuta’s fault. He took a risk that was stupid, and it wasn’t going to work.” 

Getou’s jaw goes slightly slack. “Thank god.” 

“What?” 

“You agree with me,” 

“The stewards don’t.” 

“Neither do the team owners,” groaning, Getou’s shoulders slump and he massages the bridge of his nose with his fingers. And Gojo is confused, because-

“Why does it matter what the owners think?” 

“Yuuta is supposed to be the number one driver,” Getou sighs, “I- I really shouldn’t be telling you this, y’know.” 

“You don’t have to.” Gojo says, because he already knows, but- “but you know I won’t- I mean. I wanna win fairly. I’m not-” 

“I trust you, yeah, I know you– wouldn’t–” Getou trails off, then turns to look at Gojo, dead on, “I want to tell you. Is that bad?” 

Gojo finds a grin settling on his face, despite everything. “Yeah, it’s bad.” 

Getou groans, “you haven’t changed- I- I don’t know what I expected, to be honest.” 

Gojo swallows, and says what he should have said seven years ago. “I want you to talk to me.” 

“I’m breaking about four non-disclosure agreements by talking to you,” Getou’s face is blank, an eyebrow raised. Gojo mimics zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing away the key. Getou laughs. 

“So. Why does it matter what the team owners think?” 

Getou sighs, and looks over at the singular bartender, who doesn’t seem to know who they are, much less understand Japanese. “They want Yuuta to be the number one driver.” 

“Why?” Gojo frowns. It doesn’t make sense. Yuuji is just as talented as Yuuta. Maybe even more so: he only really started karting at thirteen or fourteen, when Yuuta and Megumi both started before the age of ten. Hell, most of the drivers on the grid started before they were eight. “He’s- he’s just as good,” 

Slowly, Getou raises his glass to his lips and takes another sip. “But Yuuta brings in the sponsors, he was an academy driver, he’s beloved. He’s a world champion. He has a good- a good sob story, I guess.” 

“Okay, maybe don’t call it a sob story, his childhood friend died-” Gojo laughs. 

“Yes, I know, it’s horrible, but, I mean, we had Riko. Haibara. Nobody gave us any leeway when those things happened. The general public doesn’t even know the half of it.” Gojo doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t have to say anything, because Getou continues. “It feels like the sponsors and the owners are all fetishising it. Because she was so young. Riko, I mean. And- God, I don’t know.” 

“The owners want Yuuta to be number one because of the sponsors.” Gojo repeats, “but Yuuji- he’s getting more popular, now. The younger fans love him.” 

“They didn’t- don’t- want him to look bad. Right now, they’re pretty equal drivers, and I mean. To beat you, we’re going to have to pick. Have someone to prioritise. And I told them that whoever won this weekend, we’d go forward with.” 

“Them, as in- you told Yuuta and Yuuji this?” Gojo’s eyes widen, “that was a recipe for disaster.” 

“No shit,” Getou huffs, “no, I told the owners, the sponsors, the people breathing down my neck. And then Yuuta probably found out, crashed them both out and we’re back to square one.” 

There’s a long pause, where Getou leans forward, hair slipping over his shoulders and obscuring his face. Gojo watches him, and thinks back to the gaunt, skinny looking driver that left Jujutsu Tech at the end of 2014, buying himself out of the contract with his prize money. He’s not looking at the same man now, but he can see his ghost. 

“You want Yuuji to have a chance.”

“Yes, of course I do. He’s talented. He’s-” Getou cuts himself off, looking up and down at Gojo.

“He’s what?” He already knows the answer. He doesn’t have to ask. 

“He’s like me. Like you, as well. It terrifies me how much he’s like you. His driving style is- it’s exactly the same.” 

“Yeah.” Breathing out, Gojo leans back in his chair, “you can’t let that cloud your vision about it, though.” 

“How can I not? Satoru, you’re the greatest driver ever- the fastest- whatever. You’re a six-time world champion, probably seven-time, soon. When there’s someone like you, on the grid, with an insane amount of talent, I- how can that not cloud your vision?” 

Gojo stares. He wants to blame maybe the fact that Getou is drunk for him waxing poetics about him. He knows that’s not really true. 

“Okay, no need to flatter me-” 

“Anyone sane would be thinking twice.” Getou doubles down. “Yaga would. Shoko would, too. I mean- you are. You rate Yuuji more highly than Yuuta.” 

“Who told you that?” 

“No one. It’s just. I know you.” 

Gojo blinks at him. There’s nothing he can say about that statement that makes him seem normal. He has never been normal about Getou a day in his life . Then Getou downs the rest of his glass, puts it back down on the bar, and stands abruptly. 

“I’ll see you in Monaco.” 

And he walks out. 

All that bounces around in his brain when he asks for a bottle of water, in clumsy Spanish, is that he thought they were getting somewhere . 

 

—

 

January 2007, Japan

 

Somehow, Getou manages to scrape together a couple of sponsors who offer to cover his costs to compete in the GREC: Grade Regional European Championship. Satoru tells him he can live in his house, whilst he’s not at headquarters or racing. For free. 

Suguru doesn’t want charity, but he’s not really in a position to decline the offer. He’s almost seventeen. He’s taking a chance, quitting school, trying to do something extraordinary. And if it doesn’t work out, he’ll come back home, get a real job, a real degree, and forget all about it. It’ll become a blip in his childhood when he’s an adult and looks back at the life he’s lived, and the people he’s loved. 

Maybe Satoru will fade into the background, remembered with fondness and a film haze. 

Since he told his parents he wanted to do this, his mom hasn’t talked to him. She got angry at first: how could you quit school, how could you do this to us, you’re being reckless, stupid, throwing away everything we gave you ! 

Suguru had argued back, but you encouraged me to kart ! I finished what I needed to of school, you told me I was good, this is stupid!

His mom had argued with his dad, too, but now they’re here. In the airport. With Suguru’s entire life signed and sealed away, sent off in a too-large suitcase, off to Italy. And his dad is next to him. 

All that’s left is to go through security. Then get on a plane for sixteen hours, and walk through security on the other side, to Satoru’s open arms. 

“Hey,” his dad jostles his shoulder, smiling weakly. “I’m proud of you,” 

“You’re upset with me.” Suguru says back. It’s a fact. His dad is upset with him. 

“I- don’t listen to mom, okay?” His dad’s smile lines scrunch up when he talks. The gravity of everything hits him all at once. He lunges towards his dad and grips him tight, and his dad is still strong enough to pick him off the floor slightly, despite being shorter than him, now. 

“What if she’s right?” Suguru murmurs into his dad’s shoulder.

His dad hums, “then she’s right. And you can come home. But I don’t think she is.” 

“You’re saying that because I’m your son,” Suguru says, wetly, pulling away from his dad. Crying in an airport, how embarrassing. 

“No,” his dad smiles, “I’m not. I think you’re talented, more talented than most. I think your results speak for themselves,” he wipes the tears from Suguru’s cheeks, “it hurts to see you leave, because I raised you, and you’re sixteen-”

“Almost seventeen,” Suguru says, dumbly. 

“Sixteen,” his dad reiterates, “and you’re moving across the world to take a risk. But I’m not mad at you. I understand.” 

Suguru throws himself at his dad again, to hide the fact that he’s crying. His dad pats his back, “when we have the money, I’ll come and see you race. I’ll come and see you race in Grade One, and I’ll see you beat that Gojo, finally,” 

Suguru laughs, “I don’t think I can beat him.” 

His dad pulls away, hands cupping his face. “Stick with that kid, okay? He loves you, more than anyone out there.” 

Suguru nods, and wonders if his dad knows , in the way that all dads know, maybe. And then he goes through security. 

 

—

 

May 2022, Spain

 

In the morning, Gojo goes to Megumi’s hotel room when he doesn’t pick up the phone. He knocks once, twice, and- 

Yuuji opens the door. 

“Ah, you’re not Megumi.” Gojo raises an eyebrow, and Yuuji looks back at him, confused. 

“You’re not room service.” 

“No, I’m not. I could be, though,” Gojo says, putting a hand on his hip. “AirGojo leaves in two hours, so I was just coming to get him.” 

“Oh. He’s still asleep, I thought he must have a late flight,” Yuuji shrugs, and lets Gojo in without complaint. Which is puzzling, because Gojo wouldn’t let anyone into his room if he had a guy there the night before.

So this is something different, then. 

“You okay?” He says, to Yuuji, who stretches and yawns like a cat. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he says, grinning. His hair is wild, still messed up from sleep. 

“What, after yesterday?” Gojo frowns, because Yuuji really needs to be pushed into talking, sometimes. 

“I mean- I could be better. I slept here ‘cause I was upset, but me and Megumi talked, and- yeah, I’m fine. Monaco’s next. I love Monaco.” 

Oh, so they weren’t sleeping together , they were sleeping, together. A Yuuji-and-Megumi thing. A Gojo-and-Getou thing. 

“You were strong in Monaco last year,” Gojo smiles, “and Yuuta hates it.” 

“Okay, don’t start.” Yuuji grimaces, “I mean. I don’t wanna be pitted against Yuuta.” 

“That’s the whole name of the game, with teammates, kid. You’re in a team fighting for a championship, now.” 

Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “do you think that crash was my fault?” 

“No.” 

“Do you think it was a racing incident ?” He holds up air quotes around racing incident , mocking the term. 

“No,” Gojo says, “but I already told Getou all about it, apparently the politics are pretty tough.” 

“Yeah,” Yuuji winces, “Getou’s on my side, he- next year I’ll-” 

Gojo huffs out, “fuck next year, and fuck politics. You’re this good now,” 

“I dunno, I kinda wanna keep my seat, to be honest-” 

“You have to be selfish, Yuuji. Take it from me, Satoru Gojo, six-time world champion,” 

“Is that why you and Getou fell out?” Yuuji blurts, “‘cause, like, I- I wanna be like you, I wanna win, but-” 

“No. Getou was selfish too, he’ll tell you that. Both of us cared more about driving than each other.” 

“I like Yuuta,” Yuuji protests, “I want to be a good teammate, I want to be his friend.” 

The silence that stretches across the room gives Yuuji his answer. He groans. “And I’ve gotta take a flight with him today,” 

Gojo shrugs, “come with us. Text Getou, he’ll understand.”

Yuuji’s face lights up, “you sure? I mean, the cost cap-” 

“I won’t charge you anything. As long as you don’t do it all the time, you’ll be fine.” 

They both turn to the doorway as Megumi appears, hair sticking up all over the place and a scowl on his face. “What the fuck are you doing in my room.” 

 

—

 

January 2007, Italy

 

Satoru has made a sign for airport collection. It’s covered in sparkles and sequins, with Suguru’s name written in huge, bold letters across it, almost as dazzling as Satoru’s grin. Not quite, though. 

Satoru hugs him, tight, rattling him around like a ragdoll, which is what Suguru feels like after sixteen hours in a plane where he couldn’t really do anything except walk up and down the aisles every couple of hours for fun. 

Satoru immediately grabs all of Suguru’s bags off him, even ignoring the driver’s efforts to take some. “No, I’ve got it thanks,” he says, and then off they go, Satoru readjusting himself every few steps because of the suitcase and the backpack. 

In the car on the way back to Mugello, Suguru falls asleep on Satoru’s shoulder, as his friend murmurs, “y’know, you might have to learn Italian,” 

 

—

 

May 2022, Spain

 

Haibara grabs a hold of his sleeve as they’re getting on the plane. “Gojo, look, I- can I show you something?” 

The something in question is a shaky video, taken through the windows of the hotel bar. But without question, it’s Gojo and Getou. Sitting together. Talking.

“I thought you weren’t friends.” Haibara frowns. 

“We-” Gojo grimaces, thinking of how best to describe them. Friends isn’t one of the words on that list. “We aren’t.” 

“People are going crazy about this. The broadcasters are already, like, drafting invasive questions around it, because they wanna know what’s up between you two, and-” Haibara sighs, “you need to be more careful.” 

Haibara gets it, you see. He removes his wedding ring, like clockwork, every weekend, and Nanami doesn’t wear one at all for the entirety of the season. They’ll maybe go public about it when Nanami retires, when they aren’t forced to drive in countries where, if they knew, they’d be banned. 

Gojo knows he’s gotten lucky, to never be photographed with a guy outside a party. He knows he’s gotten lucky to not have all of the ugly details of his and Getou’s relationship and arguments spread to the press, in the wake of Getou’s retirement. There were enough staff members who knew enough about their fallout, who knew Gojo was probably in love with him. But they got lucky. 

This season, where all eyes are on them, might be the time where that luck begins to run out. 

“I’ll be careful,” Gojo says. Because he can’t say all that. 

“It’s just, with your history, I mean. People are accusing Getou of sharing team secrets,” Haibara says, “and that’s- it’s gonna get both of you in so much trouble.” 

Gojo laughs, then, “the higher-ups can’t touch me,” 

“They’ll get rid of him, though,” Haibara says, pointedly. “And you don’t want him to go. I know that you don’t.” 

Gojo looks at Haibara and wonders when he got so damn perceptive. Usually Yuki is the one making uncomfortable points. 

“Yeah, I don’t.” Gojo says, and knows it to be true. 

 

—

Notes:

in a convo with getou, gojo mentions being kissed by an overage staff member in her twenties at sixteen. nothing else happens between them, and gojo isn't massively upset by it, but it is still there. Of course, talks of minor character death/injury/crashes as per usual, and some mentions of casual homophobia in motorsport and early 2000s japan.

ANYWAYS! hope u enjoyed! The circuit referenced here is the Barcelona-Catalunya Circuit and the Autodromo Jose Carlos Pace, better known as Autodromo de Interlagos, or Sao Paulo, in the flashback. No F2 race has ever actually been to Interlagos, but F2 always starts and ends at the same venues as F1, and F1 finished in Interlagos in 2006! so. bone apple teeth.

ALSO. The crash in Spain between Yuuji and Yuuta is referenced from the infamous Hamilton-Rosberg collision in Spain 2016. That race, also, coincidentally, gave current world champion Max Verstappen his first win. Spain 2016, you will always be famous. In the original collision, it was considered a racing incident because Rosberg got a downrate coming out of turn 3, and was slower than Hamilton, meaning both were equally at fault. In this story, Yuuji doesn't get a downrate, so the circumstances are slightly different. :)

Chapter 7: vii - slipstreaming

Summary:

A driving tactic when a driver is able to catch the car ahead and duck in behind its rear wing to benefit from a reduction in drag over its body and hopefully be able to achieve a superior maximum speed to slingshot past before the next corner.

Notes:

monaco, baby!

warnings in end notes. everything is tagged. don't squint at the feeder series knowldge, pls and thankyou! GREC is based on modern FRECA, but obviously it will not be accurate. peace and love

March 2007, Spain 

 

Suguru gets another new helmet, and another new race suit for the season ahead. This time, in fact, instead of just the one he has to wash and keep clean, he gets three identical suits, and four sets of branded base layers, made of real Nomex, this time. It feels like a step up, even though it isn’t really much of one at all. 

He has to keep reminding himself: this isn’t where he wants to be. He wants to be in Grade Three, travelling the world, not just Europe. Watching the Grade One races and the Grade Twos in their spare time. Laughing with Satoru in the hotel. Not alone in a shitty motorhome, trying to stretch his legs as well as he can on the couch. 

The other major change is that he’s grown, significantly, over the last two years. He’s pretty much six foot tall, now, and it means he weighs more. He has to be a specific weight for this car. The team principal tells him this in a too-white office on the day he gets fitted, that they expect him to stay the same weight that he is already: no heavier, and preferably, if he could take off a few kilos, that would be great. 

Suguru had nodded and wondered how he was going to manage that. He’d grown, like, three inches in the last six months. He’d watched his weight go up by five kilos in the last three. 

But whatever the team wants, it’ll get, so. 

Here they are. First day of testing for the pre-season. All the way out in Barcelona, when the first race is in Imola (Italy! Suguru is learning a lot of city names, recently) in late April. 

But then they’re going to Le Castellet, France, and to Monza (as in Temple of Speed, Grade One, Capital Letters Monza) for the final test, so it’s not all bad. Satoru is all the way across the world, in Australia, and he’s already racing, this weekend. Because that’s where they decided to start the Grade One calendar this year. 

Suguru is only a little jealous. 

One of the engineers explains the wheel to him, again, for the fifth time. Suguru’s been counting the times after the second. They think he doesn’t get it, and yeah, sure, it might be nice to have it explained in Japanese, and he knows his accent is shit, but he understands enough English to know what they’re saying about the steering wheel. For God’s sake. 

He’s become distantly aware of the fact that no one is really expecting much from him. Because he’s some kid from Japan, because he’s always been second-best to the generational Gojo Satoru, because his English isn’t great and neither is his Italian. Once he’s aware of it, though, it lights something in him. He’s good. He knows he’s good, he’s moved across the world for this, had sponsors pay for this . 

Besides, the entirety of his career so far, he’s had a really rather unfair reference point for his talent, because he’s always been in the same series as freak-of-nature Gojo Satoru who is definitely a future world champion. According to all the press, anyway. All the articles say so. Everyone pales in comparison to him, is the thing. Everyone. 

Suguru lowers himself into the cockpit, and sighs deeply, because he’s here. He’s home. There’s really nowhere he’d rather be than in this car, right now, with the helmet feeling like it’s crushing his skull and the paddles sensitive under his fingers. 

This car is alien. It’s so different to a Grade Four car, and yet it feels like he’s driven it before, he feels where the throttle is, where to push, where to break, instinctually. So when he gets back into the garage, clambering out the car with a distinct lack of grace that maybe Satoru has, he’s not surprised to see the guys on the pitwall looking at the times and the data in shock. 

See? He’s just too good. 

 

—

LIST OF TIMES FOR GREC PRE-SEASON TESTING, BARCELONA  - END OF SESSION

[Note: ( R ) Indicates the driver is a rookie] 

 

POS	NAME	TEAM	TIME	GAP
1	Jack LISTER	Nitro G3	1:40:32	Interval
2	Ollie JONES	Nitro G3	1:40:52	+00:00:20
3	Suguru GETOU (R)	Haein Juniors	1:40:58	+00:00:25
4	Sebastian FISCHER	Nara AJT	1:40:67	+00:00:35
5	Eleanor REYES	Keicho Junior Team	1:40:89	+00:00:57
6	Scarlet BRUNO	GPR	1:41:01	+00:00:69
7	Lorenzo RICCI	Haein Juniors	1:41:13	+00:00:82
8	Kimi BLANCHET	Nara AJT	1:41:33	+00:01:01
9	Charlie ALLARD	Racing FRANCE	1:41:56	+00:01:24
10	Danny SCHULZ (R)	Amexor	1:41:58	+00:01:26

—

 

Gojo Satoru : i saw th timez for the preseason tests

Gojo Satoru : point 2 off th leadr is insane 

Gojo Satoru : i miss u nd u shld b here 

Gojo Satoru : give em hell and prove u deserv ths seat man

 

—

 

May 2022, Monaco

 

Monaco is everything , Gojo says to a reporter as soon as he has a microphone shoved in his face walking through the pit lane. 

And it is. Monaco is a home race for so many of the drivers. Not really, since none of the drivers on the grid right now are actually Monegasque (Gojo still can’t believe that’s a real word to describe a nationality), but because a lot of them live here. They call it home. They drive round the track in their road cars during the off-season. 

Monaco is the oldest track on the calendar. Everything is luxurious and gilded and overflowing with old money. Yachts line the harbour, and the sea is deep blue and dazzling, twinkling under the sunlight. 

Monaco is blood money, Monaco is the peak of the calendar, Monaco requires an amount of concentration like no other track ever will. 

Monaco is where Sukuna died, in 2003.

And yet, Gojo has never won here. 

To be fair, he’s gotten unlucky a few times. Engine failure in 2018. Crashed into by Yuki, who had a braking issue, in 2012. His own braking issue in 2016 that sent him careening into the runoff area at high speed. 

But otherwise, he’s just been outclassed. Last year, Yuuta won from pole. The year before that, Mei Mei had done it from P2. In their years as teammates, Nanami won once, and in both 2012 and 2014, Getou won. In 2014, he started in P2, behind Gojo on pole, and managed to pass him for the win, ignoring a team order.

In 2013, Riko won. It had been raining. Her team gave her a good strategy. She won from P4. Gojo still remembers the feeling of disappointment at bottling another Monaco, but the sun rose in his chest as he watched Riko on the top step of the podium, grinning in the sun next to Getou, who’d finished P3. 

Her first and last win. 

So, yeah, he’s never won Monaco. But he thinks this might be his year. He’s got the car, after all, and he’s got the most experience out of the real contenders, and really, in Monaco, experience is a real advantage. 

But Yuuji was on course for a win here, last year, until a hydraulics issue forced his retirement, and he wants it just as bad. The Keicho is fast, faster than the Sengoku ever was, and Gojo isn’t particularly scared of Yuuta, but he’s a little terrified of Yuuji. 

In Monaco, it’s near enough impossible to overtake on track, on Sunday. Which at times is a blessing, and at times, is a curse. Every other weekend on the calendar, if qualifying goes badly, you can just stand in front of the interviewer and say well points come on Sunday.

In Monaco, the points might as well be scored during qualifying on Saturday. That’s how hard overtaking moves are, there. So if qualifying goes wrong, then- 

He’s fucked, for lack of a better term. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Thursday Press Conference One, Monaco Grand Prix 2022 - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji Itadori (Scuderia Keicho), Miwa Kasumi (Haein) & Nobara Kugisaki (Meiji) - Hosted by Yu Haibara 

 

Q: Gojo, let’s start with you - you’re on form coming into this weekend, how does it feel, after winning the last race?

SATORU GOJO : Good. Our pace was incredible, and the drive felt good after a couple moments in practice where I really struggled. It always feels good to win, but I think both Keichos crashing out gave us a bit of an advantage, to be honest.  

Q: Speaking of that crash - what was your view of it? 

SG : I didn’t see very much of it, only Megumi ahead swerving and the cars in the gravel. I had to ask Shoko on the radio, oh who is it? So, y’know, yeah, I didn’t see very much. 

Q: It’s helped you massively in the championship battle, how are you feeling coming into a weekend that’s likely to be quite strong for Keicho?

SG : The momentum helps, it always helps, but- yeah. Yuuji in particular was strong here, last year, overtaking is difficult, it’s Monaco, you know. We just have to get our heads down, get the right setup locked in, and then hope it goes well on Saturday, ‘cause that’s when most of the order will be decided. In terms of the championship, we have a long way to go, and the points are still very close. Those two are unlikely to give me so many points on a platter again this season, so we need to carry on working hard.

Q: Okay, let’s come to you, then, Yuuji. That crash, last weekend, how does it affect your mentality coming into this weekend?

YUUJI ITADORI : Uh, I think people have expected me to be more upset over it than I am. I dunno, I- I just want to win. More now than ever. I almost won here last year, and- yeah. I need to redeem myself to the team after last weekend-

[ note: Gojo murmurs something unintelligible to Yuuji, which is not picked up by microphones ]

YI : [to Gojo] Okay, yeah, but- he’s an idiot. I, of course, feel the pressure more this weekend. But it’s my job to drive, and that’s what I’ll do. 

Q: Ah, what did Gojo say to you there?

SG : Don’t worry about it. 

Q: Well, carrying on, Yuuji, there’s a lot of talk over rivalry at Keicho, of trying to choose a number one driver to go for the drivers’ championship- are these affecting your mindset, at all?

YI : No. I drive. I’m alone in the car, and what Yuuta does isn’t a concern to me. If I’m faster, then I’m faster. Simple. 

Q: Well, then, Miwa, onto you, you scored points, last weekend, congratulations! 

MIWA KASUMI : Ha, thanks! It feels good, the car was good. 

Q: Coming into this weekend, with a car that typically hasn’t been strong in qualifying, how are you looking to optimise the performance?

MK : It’s gonna be tough, for sure. I love the challenge, and the team is working hard, so we’ll try our best. 

Q: Of course, you’ve not out-qualified your teammate yet this season, do you think you can do it here?

MK : Ha! No, probably not in Monaco, she has a pretty good track record here, but I’ll remain optimistic! 

Q: Okay, and finally onto Nobara, what a season you’ve been having! Talk to us about that.

NOBARA KUGISAKI : It’s been fun! I love the travel, and I mean- they’re [gesturing to Gojo and Itadori] annoying as f- hell, wait, am I even allowed to say hell? Ok, well, they’re annoying but yeah, I love it. I love driving. And I think points finishes in the car are good for now, despite Megs [ note: Megumi Fushiguro, driver for Jujutsu Technical Racing ] having a much better rookie season overall. 

Q: Do you feel a bit overshadowed by Fushiguro, given he's currently fifth in the standings ?

NK : Uh, yeah. Sure. A bit. But we’re friends. He’s in a better car, and I’m happy for him, but he has Gojo as a teammate, so it’s not like I’m jealous. [laughs]

Q: This isn’t your first time racing here, because you’ve raced here in G2, but it is your first time here in a G1 car. Are you expecting things to be different? Similar? How have you prepared?

NK : Me and Yuuji were racing each other on this track on the game- G1 23, last week, and I was beating his ass, so-

YI : Not true-!

NK : So yeah, I would say I’ve been doing a lot of simulator work to prepare. But I think it’ll be pretty similar to racing in G2, the walls are close and everything comes up fast, you know, it’s Monaco. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR:

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Grade One Daily): Question for Satoru, but if other drivers want to offer an answer, then they can, obviously you in the car didn’t see the crash, but did you see the replay? And, if you did see the replay, how do you think this crash compares to the crash between you and Suguru in Suzuka in 2014?

SG : Uh, I have seen the replay. It’s a fundamentally different crash, and it would be hard to compare them. The only similarity between the two is that they’re between teammates. It’s also immensely unfair to drag up something that happened in 2014, and to Getou as team principal. 

YI : Since it’s about my crash, I’ll say something, too. Uh, Suzuka 2014 was definitely a different case. I talked to Getou about it, and, y’know of course it comes up, but yeah. Completely different crash. 

Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport): Uh, question for Nobara, please…

 

—

 

“What the fuck,” Yuuji is hissing out the words the second they’re out of earshot of the reporters, walking back down the paddock. His fist is tight around his water bottle, and his teeth are gritted, eyebrows pulled down in a scowl. And Gojo- 

Gojo gets it, he really does. But crashes as big as that are rare, and even more so between teammates. Getou had managed to keep both drivers relatively clear of the media circus last week, so now the press is descending on them with teeth bared, ready to bite. It’s the way things are. 

“Yeah, I know, Yuuji,” Gojo sighs, putting both his hands behind his head and stretching his shoulders, “but they’ll forget about it soon,” 

“I’m not even angry about that,” ungritting his teeth, Yuuji takes a deep breath and looks up at Gojo. “They- they shouldn’t be bringing up Suzuka 2014. It was almost ten years ago,” 

Shrugging, Gojo huffs out a non-response, “the press like asking about me and him, especially now he’s back on the grid.” 

“Does it not bother you? You- when they said last year he’d be coming back, you freaked. Yaga said you freaked. You quit half of your media duties that day. And now, you’re… fine with it?” 

Gojo doesn’t blame Yuuji for being confused. At the start of the season he felt like a squashed ping pong ball being hit between two concrete walls. He still does, at times, but he’s Gojo. So he knows, now, what to expect, and how to hide things. “I was expecting it today, though. So it was easy.” 

“You two are so weird,” Yuuji grumbles, and Gojo is about to ask Yuuji what he means when Getou appears in front of him, grabbing Yuuji by the shoulders. 

“You didn’t have to answer that question, you know?” It takes a while for Gojo to realise Getou is talking to him. 

“Not answering would cause more of a media storm, y’know,” he says, still slightly bitter over the way Getou left the last time they spoke. 

“No, it wouldn’t.” Getou huffs, and Gojo throws his hands in the air as he steps away. “I can’t get anything right with you! Do you not have a press conference to get to yourself?” It’s snide and it’s rude but Gojo is past caring, at this stage. They’re adults. Getou can talk to him whenever he wants. 

“Well, now I’m going to get questions about it.” 

Yuuji steps away from Getou, and glares at him, which is new. “You were gonna get questions about it anyway. You two are confusing as hell,” 

Gojo almost laughs from how fucking ridiculous this whole thing sounds, and pats Getou on the shoulder as he leaves. “Good luck with the press,” 

 

—

 

April 2007, Italy

 

In the last round of preseason testing, at Monza, Getou doesn’t drop below P3 in the timings for all four sessions. People are starting to talk, now, about his pace. His talent, his raw speed. 

The mechanics have started treating him with more respect, too, and his English already feels like it’s improved. He understands way more, now.

But Suguru is mostly excited for the first race of the season not because of his pace, or because of the chance to prove himself, or because he gets to finally, really, truly push the limits of the car. He’s excited because Satoru is home, before Spain in April, and he’s coming. To Imola. To watch. And Suguru will see him again, after over a month and a half apart. 

He manages to get a garage pass for Satoru, which isn’t hard because Satoru is Satoru Gojo, and Suguru is easily the favourite driver on the team, right now, which means he can ask for pretty much anything and he’ll get it. Within reason, of course. 

He still has to be the right weight, and eat salad that makes him gag, and do all the workouts. But he’s allowed his best friend in the garage with him, and he’s allowed to show him the car. 

“Oooh, it’s kinda like my car, then,” Satoru coos, leaning down to look in the cockpit at the wheel. It’s true: the GREC car and the Grade Three car have similar engine components. “Except, here, on the wheel, we have two buttons to change the menu screens, and we don’t have a track map.” 

Suguru hums, smiling at the way Satoru leans his whole body into the cockpit of the car, his feet lifting off the ground as he inspects the pedals. His badges dangle and clink against the metal of the car. His face is flushed pink when he comes up for air. “I can’t wait to see you drive.”

 

—

 

Suguru wins. He wins, and stumbles out the car with his feet still tingling, laughing and clasping hands with his team, with the mechanics. He grins, despite himself, despite feeling still slightly sick from the adrenaline and the food he ate earlier. 

Satoru pounces on him, laughing bright and loud, and the two pound on each other’s backs, jumping up and down. Suguru can’t even bring himself to care about the cameras pointed at them. He’s here, his best friend is here, and he won. 

 

—

 

“Where’s your little boyfriend today?” One of the mechanics laughs on Sunday morning, clapping a hand into the centre of Suguru’s shoulder blades much too hard. The man is shorter than him, but he weighs a hell of a lot more, and Suguru stumbles forwards, shock filling his system. 

“What?” He replies, a nervous smile on his face, adjusting his race suit around his waist. Maybe he misunderstood. English, after all, is a weird language. 

“What’s his name? Kid with the white hair?” The mechanic laughs, gruffly, “your mate.” 

He spits out mate in a way that makes Suguru’s skin crawl. “I think he is just late. He’s, um, always late.” 

The man laughs again, and another mechanic grins beside him, “you should be careful. He’s definitely a little-” he whistles, making some weird hand gesture that Suguru wishes he didn’t know the meaning of, “you know, for you,”

Suguru swallows, and smiles. “I don’t think so, we are just very close is all.” 

“Ha! We’re not accusing you of anything, kid! We know you’re alright,” 

Then Suguru is saved by their team principal, whisking Suguru away to gulp down a smoothie and boiled eggs, and to look over data on a laptop screen whilst he tries not to gag on either. The texture is horrible, but he’s here to race, and this is part of racing. 

Satoru hugs him tight from behind, later, as he’s about to get in the car. It makes everything worth it, even when he notices the snickers from around the garage. 

 

—

 

May 2022, Monaco

 

The first free practice session goes by without any major incidents. The TV broadcasters spend a lot of time next to Keicho’s garage, hovering around where Getou sits on the pit wall. Valiantly, he manages to ignore them, and Gojo watches the cameras dip between their garage and Keicho’s like a little back-and-forth. 

He guesses it’s easier to sensationalise Getou than it is to do it to him. Gojo has the luxury of a helmet to hide his expressions. 

In second practice, Yuuji clips the wall and takes his tyre off, causing a yellow flag. Gojo is out on track when it happens, passing him slowly and sees Yuuji perched on the edge, head in his hands. 

Then Nobara makes the same mistake, although it’s at a different corner, and Gojo makes a joke down the radio about how Megumi should make the same mistake so that they’re three for three. Shoko tells him to shut up. 

On Saturday morning, in their final free practice, Megumi tops the leaderboards. It’s partly because a yellow flag ruined Gojo’s final flying lap, along with the laps of Nanami behind him and then Yuuji’s behind him. So, the order’s a bit mixed up going into qualification later that day. 

But nonetheless, Megumi’s time is fast. It beats Yuuta’s, and Inumaki’s, fair and square, as well as the rest of the grid. When Megumi gets out of the car, even he can’t help the small smile on his face. Gojo pulls him in with a grin, brilliant and blinding, and shakes him from side to side. “Well done, Megs,” 

And for once, Megumi doesn’t scowl at him, or spit insults at him, or anything, really. He grins back, still pushing Gojo away, “thanks,” 

A staff member brings Toto over, who remains off-leash and sits obediently beside Megumi, panting softly as Kamo turns Megumi’s attention to the speed graph to analyse the braking points. 

 

—

 

A reporter once told him Monaco was like marmite. Gojo didn’t really like the comparison, because he doesn’t really know anyone who hates Monaco with the same vitriol that some people hate marmite with. It would also mean that most of the grid was, like, Australian, because most of them love it. 

Sure, it’s kind of a shit race to watch if you actually know the sport, because the track allows for next to no overtaking, or real racing, but it’s the only place where you can still win with a busted engine, and that’s it’s own delight, in Gojo’s opinion. 

But there is some truth in the love-it-or-hate it sentiment. Monaco’s a challenge because it’s a street circuit, partly, but also because it’s incredibly narrow. One wrong move and you’re in the wall, like Yuuji or Nobara yesterday. Like Gojo, in his rookie years, when they still hadn’t figured out the correct visor for his eyes, and the concentration made him dizzy.  

Yuuta dislikes Monaco, he knows. He doesn’t like the pressure of it all, the media attention, the concentration the track requires. Megumi hadn’t been too thrilled about racing there in Grade Two, either, but he seems happy enough now that he might be on for a front row start. 

But Gojo loves the challenge of it all. The fact that there’s zero room to fuck up, the fact that the track layout offers zero forgiveness. 

He lowers himself into the cockpit, balaclava on but helmet still off, resting on the top of the car, just beyond the halo. He flexes his hands when he puts his gloves on, and breathes deeply, in and out. 

He may not spend his time playing video games like Yuuji and Nobara, but he’s driven this track so many times. He knows it like the back of his hand. He loves it here.

And this time, he really wants to win. Which means that he needs to get pole. 

“Radio check, Satoru,” Shoko’s voice sounds. 

“Copy, radio’s good,” Gojo grins. 

He gets out of Q1 pretty easily, as does Megumi. They set times on used softs first, then do a second run each on one set of slicks, which puts them in P3 and P4 going into Q2 behind Yuuta and Nanami. But Nanami burned through an extra set of tyres to get there, so he’ll be disadvantaged heading into Q3. 

Q2 is the same: they run three laps each, and end up P2 and P4, with Yuuta on pole, and Yuuji in P3. Nanami drops to P5, which Gojo thinks is a bit more true to the pace they were expecting to have. 

The strategy for Q3 is risky, especially for Monaco. They go out twice each on used softs, then they put new slicks on for their final run. Before they go out, Gojo is P4 and Megumi is P6, and they’re chasing the front row. But everyone else has already had a run with new tyres, and Gojo knows he can shave off enough time. 

He hurtles towards the first corner, downshifting to third, pulling through and then getting a foot on the throttle and shifting up, up, up, to seventh, to almost three-hundred kilometres an hour, and lifts off for turn three, downshifting to fourth. He takes turn four in fourth, too, grinning as he skims past the wall and feels the engine roar beneath his legs. 

“Purple sector one, keep the pace,” Shoko says, twinges of excitement evident in her voice. Gojo doesn’t reply, already braking, down into second gear for turn five, downhill and into a steep bend for turn six. The houses tower around him, and he can’t hear much through his helmet, but he likes to think the crowd is cheering. 

He gets out of turn eight, the last of a sequence of low speed corners, and finally begins the charge again, upshifting all the way to eighth, through the tunnel, three hundred kilometres per hour, and in a moment of madness, breaks late for turn ten, downshifting rapidly to second for yet another low speed corner. 

He gets out of turn eleven, already bracing himself for Shoko’s message at the end of sector two. “Purple sector two, come on,” Shoko says, and Gojo feels like he might vibrate straight out of his skin and die the second he crosses the line, but right now he has a job to do. 

Turn fourteen, turn fifteen, turn sixteen. He feels like he’s breathing with the car now, feels like it’s an extension of his body. He rounds turn nineteen in second gear and then gets his foot flat on the throttle, speeding up, up, up-

“Where am I?” He asks, breathless, amazed that for once, a red flag hadn’t ruined his run. There’s a pause where Gojo assumes the worst, and then- 

“Provisional pole, we’ve gotta wait but it’s looking good,” 

“Who’s left to cross the line?” 

“Megumi and Itadori,” 

Gojo lifts a hand to the crowd, waving as he sets out on his cooldown lap. Shoko keeps talking to him, “ok, Megumi’s just gone P2-” 

“YES!” Gojo laughs, “oh, that’s brilliant,” 

And then Shoko’s voice comes again. “Itadori P2, now, but oh my god, what a run,” 

“Congrats to both of them.” Gojo says, “but you gotta say it. Where’s Yaga? Have him say it.” 

Yaga’s voice comes over the radio, “you just lost me two hundred euros against Shoko, but you’re pole position for Monaco!” Yaga laughs. 

“What was the bet?” Gojo grins, “pole, or front row?” 

“Pole,” Shoko says, and Gojo can hear the grin in her voice. 

“Aw, come on Yaga, you didn’t believe in me?” 

“I made the bet before FP1, Gojo,” Yaga says, knowing, and Gojo just laughs in response. 

He pulls up to the number one board in parc ferme, unhooking his steering wheel, clambering over the halo, and then placing the steering wheel back before raising his hand to the sky and crossing his fingers. 

Pole in Monaco almost always means a win. 

He jumps from his car, and runs to his mechanics, who pat him all over like a dog, and to Yaga, who clasps both sides of his helmet and shakes him from side to side. His brain rattles in his skull. 

Shoko grabs at his hand, and he pulls her in for a hug, helmet be damned. He shouts “thank you,” at her, and hopes she can hear through layers of carbon fibre. 

“Satoru,” a voice pierces those same layers loud and clear, and Gojo turns before he even realises where it’s coming from. Because he knows it. In his bones. His body will always react before his brain, when it comes to Getou Suguru. 

The man in question is holding a hand out, smiling, teeth on full display, and Gojo goes to him. Like an idiot. Like a dog being told to heel. He clasps Getou’s hand, and gets pulled into a one handed hug that leaves his heart beating more erratically than when he was driving. 

He expects a jeer. He expects spiteful words that the microphones can’t pick up, he expects Getou to try and hurt him, dig his metaphorical teeth in and bite. 

He doesn’t. He just says, “that was an incredible lap, a new record, you’re incredible,” 

Which is infinitely worse , actually. 

When Gojo pulls back, he’s never been more glad for a helmet covering his expression in his life. “Thanks,” he mutters, dumbly. He’s not even sure that Getou can hear it, with the helmet on. He thinks Getou might know what he’s thinking anyway. 

 

—

 

Transcript for top three finishers’ Press Conference, post-qualification, Monaco Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: A warm welcome to the top three qualifiers, in third, Megumi Fushiguro, in second, Yuuji Itadori, and on pole, Satoru Gojo! Gojo, that’s a new lap record for Monaco, and pole for this race! How are you feeling?

SATORU GOJO : Good. Like, really good. I knew the lap was quick, and I just managed to put everything together today, risked being taken out by a red flag that late in quali but it definitely paid off. I didn’t know it was a record until— um. Until parc ferme, but I knew I had the purple sectors, so. 

Q: Of course, points come tomorrow, but Monaco is one of those tracks where overtaking proves near impossible. Are you optimistic for the chance of finally ending your curse here and converting the pole into a win tomorrow?

SG : Don’t ask me to jinx myself, Haibara! [laughs] Uh, yes. I am confident. The car is good, and definitely capable of winning here. I’ve been close before, and I know the race better than these two starting behind me, so I’m optimistic. 

Q: Okay, Yuuji, let’s come to you, out-qualifying your teammate again, and a brilliant lap, only a tenth off Gojo. How did it feel out there?

YUUJI ITADORI : Really good. I love racing at Monaco, it’s one of my favourite tracks on the calendar, with the amount of concentration you need. The adrenaline is crazy! And to qualify P2 feels amazing, honestly. 

Q: After your crash last race, are you feeling optimistic about redeeming yourself here?

YI : Well. Yeah, obviously. Front row in Monaco is a unique position to be. Just need a little luck, now. 

SG : [laughs] He doesn’t need luck, he’s not starting alongside his teammate like he did in Spain. 

[ Note: Itadori says something to Gojo that the microphones do not pick up ]

Q: Well, finally, Megumi, let’s come to you, a second third place start in two races, your form has been incredible, and at such a difficult track, too. Talk us through it.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO : Well, the pace the car has given me has been incredible. I think– I play this one on the sim a lot. Maybe that helps? But in Grade Two it was my favourite track, so, I wanted to come here and do well, and the team has been amazing giving me a car that can fight for these positions. 

Q: Of course, last week you slipped out of the podium positions. Do you have confidence that maybe this week that will be different?

MF : I hope so. Tyre deg is less important here, than in Spain, so we’ll see. I don’t want to jinx myself, but hopefully it can be a double Jujutsu podium which is really important for the team. 

Q: It would also be your first podium. 

MF : Yes. That would be exciting too, I think. 

 

—

 

Gojo tries to seek Getou out after the press conference, but he’s nowhere to be found. 

So he goes to the debrief and strategy meetings, and forgets about what he said in parc ferme. 

 

—

 

Monaco isn’t the time to take risks with tyre strategy. The idea is basic, and tried and tested. Softs to start, switch to hards around lap twenty five, and finish the race on hards. 

Some teams further back in the pack are starting on mediums, to try and stay out longer, but when that idea is bought up in their strategy meeting, Gojo shoots it down. 

There’s no way Yuuji is going to start on the medium: they have a spare pair of brand new softs, just like they do, and the main way for Yuuji to gain a place is going to be by getting a good start off the line. Maybe the team would try to fuck Yuuji over to make Yuuta look better, but Gojo doubts Getou would let them make that decision. 

So they start on the soft. 

Yuuji still gets him off the line. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS, Monaco GP 2022

 

LAP 1: 

 

GOJO : ****! ****!

IERI : Concentrate, stay in DRS. 

GOJO : I’ll try, but the dirty air is gonna make it hard, ****! How did I **** that up?!

IERI : Data shows the reaction time was good. Itadori just had a really good start. 

GOJO : Right, that makes me feel better, definitely.

 

ITADORI : OH MY GOD! 

TODOU : YES BRO! YOU DID IT! YOU GOT IT! 

ITADORI : Oh my god, I’m shaking, I’m shaking, P1, tell me please. 

TODOU : You are P1 in Monaco! Now get your head down and let’s win this. 

 

KAMO : P3, P3. 

FUSHIGURO : Is Gojo P2?

KAMO : Confirm, Gojo is P2. 

FUSHIGURO : Well, that’s not great, is it?

 

LAP 5: 

 

IERI : Itadori 1.4 ahead. 

GOJO : Don’t talk to me until I’m back in DRS. 

 

TODOU : Do you think you have more pace than this? 

ITADORI : No, not a lot. I can push more, maybe a bit, but, yeah. No. 

TODOU : Copy. 

ITADORI : Update me on Gojo’s pace, please.

TODOU : Copy.

 

LAP 20: 

 

IERI : Itadori point five ahead, DRS enabled. 

GOJO : I can’t get closer than this. 

IERI : Copy. 

 

TODOU : Gojo point five behind. 

ITADORI : These tyres are gone, man.

TODOU : Copy, too early yet.

 

LAP 26:

 

IERI : Box box. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 27: 

 

ITADORI : Did Gojo box? 

TODOU : Yes, we need to come in this lap, please. 

ITADORI : Copy. 

 

IERI : Gojo, Itadori’s pitting, we need to put in a fast lap. 

GOJO : Copy, trying. 

 

LAP 28: 

 

TODOU : Watch for Gojo at pit exit, it will be tight. 

ITADORI : Copy, copy. 

 

IERI : Watch for Itadori, pit exit, he’s coming out now. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 29: 

 

ITADORI : **** that was close at pit exit!

TODOU : Good job, you are P3, cars ahead have yet to pit. 

ITADORI : Copy. 

 

LAP 70: 

 

ITADORI : Gap behind?

TODOU : Point three. 

ITADORI : Holy ****. 

TODOU : Come on, eight laps to go. Good defending. 

 

LAP 72: 

 

GOJO: Jesus, this kid is giving me grief. Wish I never gave him any tips. 

IERI: Ha, copy. 

GOJO: The dirty air is ****ing me up. 

 

LAP 78: 

 

TODOU : That’s the chequered flag, and you are P1 BABY!

ITADORI : OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!

TODOU : YOUR FIRST WIN IN KEICHO AND IT’S IN MONACO!

ITADORI : YES! [incoherent screaming] WE WON MONACO!!

 

IERI : So that is P2, good job, we maximised the result. 

GOJO : Disappointing but oh well. Where’s Megumi?

IERI : Megumi is P3. 

GOJO : Oh my god? His first podium in Grade One!

 

FUSHIGURO : Yes! P3?

KAMO : That is P3, Megumi! What a drive, you did brilliantly. 

FUSHIGURO : [laughing] Thanks! Did Yuuji win?

KAMO : So Itadori P1, Gojo P2, Yuuta P4-

FUSHIGURO : Yuuji won? Oh my god. 

 

—

 

July 2007, Italy

 

Suguru hadn’t really meant to make friends with his teammate. It had just happened. 

 

Lorenzo is kind of everything Suguru is not. He’s short enough that he doesn’t really have to watch his weight, with curly dark hair. He’s older: he just turned twenty, and this is his second year in the GREC. He’s old money, relaxed and at ease, and he has an expensive watch on his wrist and rings that glint in the sun. He wears sunglasses that Suguru thinks might be designer everywhere. And he has the ability to speak perfect, native Italian. His English is okay, though, so they mostly speak in English. Lorenzo suggested that they should train together, when they’re at race weekends, or at headquarters, and Suguru agreed. 

Satoru’s in England, right now, at Silverstone. Apparently it’s raining there, but they can’t text because of the charges on Suguru’s phone. So he’s mostly finding these things out through the news. 

Lorenzo grunts as he finishes a set, and the weight he was holding clatters to the ground. He pulls out an earbud, which is attached to his iPod. He apparently got it as a present from his dad after coming P2 in Spa. Suguru had come P3 in race one and won race two. His dad couldn’t afford the plane ticket. 

“Y’know, I always forget you’re a rookie,” Lorenzo hums. Suguru frowns. 

“Why?” 

“Because you’re having a really good season,” Lorenzo says, like it’s obvious. “The GREC car is kinda the hardest one to adapt to, and you’ve done it like it’s nothing.” 

“I dunno, Grade One seems pretty tough,” Suguru says, grinning, able to take a joke. 

Lorenzo shrugs, “my coach tells me that if I can master this car, I can master any car. And we’ve both done the same amount of testing and practice, and you’re still ahead,” 

He’s relaxed about it. Like a rookie beating him in a feeder series isn’t the end of his career. Maybe for someone with money, being beaten isn’t the end of the world. “Should I say thank you?” 

“No, I just think it is impressive.” Lorenzo grins, white teeth flashing. “I think you are an impressive person, moving from home so young. I could not do that.” 

Suguru blinks. And swallows. He doesn’t feel impressive. He feels like a fish in a bowl, with people banging on the glass. “Oh.” 

Lorenzo shrugs, and stands up, offering his hand to Suguru, who takes it. “You know, everyone always talks about your friend, Satoru Gojo?” 

Suguru nods. He says his name all wrong, harsh consonants and no gaps in the syllables, and says his family’s name last, like real Europeans do. 

“I think you’re more talented,” Lorenzo says, eyes twinkling. 

Suguru laughs, because it’s a funny joke. 

 

—

 

BREAKING : Satoru Gojo to test for Sengoku in Grade One - Grade One News

Written by Andrew Fielder - 14 July 2007

 

Sengoku Racing has announced that the young driver Satoru Gojo, the son of ex-Keicho driver Kiyoshi Gojo, will perform multiple tests for the team in their Grade one cars on the remaining testing dates in Jerez, Monza, and Barcelona. Gojo has been a part of Sengoku’s development program since last year, and this recent decision raises questions about the possibility of Gojo driving for them in Grade One in the near future.  

No one can deny that his performance has been impressive in the Grade Three Series, which he currently leads in his sophomore season, against much older and more experienced peers. However, Sengoku’s statement references not his points totals, but “his overall incredibly impressive and breakaway performances in difficult conditions” as the reason for testing him in Grade One cars, stating: “we want to fast-track his future to the pinnacle of the sport, where he wants to be.” 

Either way, this move solidifies that Gojo will likely move up to Grade Two next season after a dominant performance in Grade Three across 2007. 

 

—

 

The average age for a first test in a Grade One car is twenty. 

Satoru is seventeen. Suguru doesn’t learn about it from him. They’re separated by a continent, when the news breaks. 

 

—

May 2022, Monaco

 

Gojo pulls up only a few seconds behind Yuuji to the P2 board, and watches Yuuji’s helmet shake in the cockpit. 

Gojo gets out of his car before Yuuji gets out of his. He waits. He’s glad he did, because the sight is marvellous. 

With legs that shake much like a tree, unstable in the wind, Yuuji clambers out over the halo, standing on his car, and raises both fists to the sky in a display of prowess. He shakes them, wildly, and bends over, roaring out a Yes as he leaps from the car and into his team’s open arms. Gojo watches as Getou grabs at the fabric of Yuuji’s race suit, slaps at his helmet, sharing in the win like it’s his own. He supposes it is: Keicho is his team, has been since they signed him to their drivers’ academy all the way back when they were still rookies and juniors. Todou lifts him up, almost dropping him right on top of the barrier, but Yuuji doesn’t care, screaming, “I won at fucking Monaco! I won Monaco !”

His voice is shrill and squeaks at the edges with excitement. Gojo shakes his head and goes to his own team, clasping hands with Yaga and then turning to look at Shoko, who grins and just says, “Monaco curse strikes again?” 

Gojo grins under his helmet. 

In the meantime, Megumi has pulled up his car, climbing out, and the cheers ring around them. Yuuji has already turned to look, but doesn’t go. He wants to, Gojo knows. He wants to go to him, but he doesn’t, because Megumi is running to the team, who are cheering, screaming their praise for him, grabbing at his suit and pulling him into the barriers. 

This is his first podium, ever. And he deserves to enjoy it. So Gojo pulls him close, one arm around his shoulders, and shouts that he’s proud of him. Megumi just laughs in response. 

They pull off their helmets and stand patiently to be weighed, and Gojo carefully places his down on the P2 podium, with Megumi a few steps away placing his own helmet and HANS on his own. 

Gojo hears more than he sees Yuuji barrelling straight into Megumi. It’s punctuated by Megumi’s yelp, by Yuuji’s shout of joy. And then they’re hugging, grasping at each other in front of everyone. He hears Yuuji squealing, “you’re on the podium with me!” And Megumi’s laughter, rough and deep from his chest, reverberating with it. 

Gojo wants to hide them from everyone. From the cameras, from the cheers, from their teams. Because this moment, where they clutch at each other, still sweaty and sticky from the race, with Yuuji’s eyes squeezed shut and Megumi’s blown wide open in disbelief, is theirs. It’s not anyone else’s. 

But Gojo can’t feasibly get in the way of every single camera pointed at them right now. So instead, he steps back, watching. Feeling the way his chest tightens, watching the future of the sport in front of him. He thinks he picked well. He’s leaving it in good hands. 

Gojo looks across parc ferme at Getou, expecting him to be looking on at Yuuji, too. Instead, he’s met with the other man looking straight at him. He’s not smiling, but there’s something on his face that’s close to it, kind of, as he breathes out and blinks, looking at Gojo. 

It’s how he used to look at him. Way back when. In 2010, 2011. Probably before, too. Gojo suddenly realises he doesn’t really blame his younger self for being a little delusional when it came to guessing the nature of Getou’s feelings for him in their twenties. Any sane person being looked at like that would assume they were loved, too. 

 

—

 

Post-Race Press Conference, Top Three Finishers, Monaco Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Congratulations to our top three in Monaco! In third, we have Megumi Fushiguro, taking his first podium of his career, in second, Satoru Gojo, and in first, taking his second career win and first win here in Monaco, Yuuji Itadori! Well done, Yuuji, that was brilliant, talk us through it. 

YUUJI ITADORI: Well, basically what happened is that this old man [gesturing to Gojo] has really bad reflexes! Uh, well, jokes aside. I had a really good start, and Gojo really put the pressure on me today. We broke away from the rest of the pack a bit, had our own race, but the team did an incredible pitstop for me and we managed to stay ahead on an attempted undercut, so, yeah. I’m happy. 

Q: Only your second win, but your first win with Keicho, which is of course a team with a brilliant legacy. How does it feel?

YI : Incredible. I mean, it’s even better to be sat here with, you know, my mentor for so many years, Gojo has helped a lot of the young drivers on the grid but he’s helped me loads, and with Megumi who I karted with, was a teammate to in Grade Four. It’s, like, such a nice moment for me. Being able to share it with my friends. 

Q: Okay, Gojo, to you, you didn’t give up at all today, trying the undercut, we saw several overtake attempts down the DRS zone, what kept you behind today?

SATORU GOJO: My reaction time off the line was apparently fine, but it was slower than Yuuji’s and it just cost me big time. The dirty air seemed to really mess with the car today, more than usual, and that made staying close to Yuuji very difficult. We had a go at the undercut, but Keicho covered us off and yeah, just nothing I could do. Yuuji defended like a lion, he drove well. 

Q: Do you think it’s the so called Monaco curse at play? 

SG : Ha. I don’t believe in curses, but after this weekend, I might. I’ll get it next year. 

Q: Okay, last but certainly not least, Megumi. Your first grade one podium, how does it feel?

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO : Uh. Insane. I think this is much less about my podium, and more to do with the general craziness of Monaco, but it still feels good. Big points for the team. 

Q: Is it a bonus to share it with your teammate and of course, your mentor?

MF : [to Gojo] No. But yeah, the podium in general feels really good. The car felt alive today, and I'm super thankful to the team. 

 

—

 

October 2007, the Netherlands

 

Satoru is comfortably leading the Grade Three Championship. He’s got one race weekend left, Brazil again next week, whilst Suguru drags himself off to Hockenheim for the final round of the GREC, which he also leads. In his rookie season. 

Which is, according to everyone around him, a big deal. Suguru privately thinks that he’s just doing his job, but then again, he’s holding himself to a different standard than the rest of the drivers, most of whom have paid to be here. He hasn’t. He’s got sponsors to impress. 

Speaking of sponsors. He’s had at least ten enquiries in the last two weeks, through email. Now it’s looking like he’ll finally be able to race in Grade Three next season, and Satoru won’t be there. If he wins, he won’t be allowed to race in that series at all, and bar being sick for the final race, or crashing out, it doesn’t seem like a possibility. Him losing. 

Satoru is currently lounging in his motorhome with him in Zandvoort, long legs swung out over the arm of the couch. He’s grown just as much as Suguru, and he’s taller than him, now. He used to be shorter, all the way through their childhoods. The roles have reversed. 

He’s tapping away at his DS, not really paying attention to where Suguru is across the room doing sit-ups. He hates sit-ups, but they’re good for him, and now the skin around his abdomen isn’t soft. So. 

There’s a knock on the door, and Suguru shouts, “come in!” 

Lorenzo appears in the doorway, looking bright as always. His curls are longer than they were at the start of the season, but he refuses to cut them. “Hey, Sara’s looking for us, apparently, so. We should maybe go.”

Suguru frowns, “quali’s not for another three hours,” 

That’s another quirk of English: shortening words and sounding natural. Suguru’s English has gotten a lot better recently. It’s still not like Satoru’s: polished with a perfect, American accent, but he’s understood most of the time, now. And he can understand in return. 

“Sponsors are here.” Lorenzo says, glancing at Satoru on the couch, “but I can probably buy you like, thirty minutes if-” 

“No, it’s okay,” Suguru sighs, pushing himself up to his feet. “Give me five minutes.” 

Lorenzo nods, smiles, and shuts the door, singing out, “don’t be too long!” 

When the door shuts, and they hear footsteps falling away, Suguru rifles through his bag to find a clean team branded T-shirt. He pulls the loose white thing he was using to work out over his head, with his back turned to Satoru. 

He hears Satoru’s gulp before he sees it, turning around as he pulls the shirt over his stomach. “What?” 

“I- are you two good friends?” 

Suguru frowns. Satoru has never asked a single question about Lorenzo, ever. Although, to be fair, Suguru supposes he hasn’t really bought him up, either. “We’re teammates,” he answers. 

“Yeah, but like, I’m not friends with Utahime. We pretend, for the cameras, whatever, I’m pretty sure she, like, actually hates me.” Satoru frowns, “I’m asking if you’re friends.” 

Suguru thinks of shared meals and workouts and motorhomes and podiums. “Yeah, we’re friends. He’s nice.” Then, because he’s curious, “why? Jealous?” 

Satoru’s mouth flops open like a fish, “no, I just- no! Why would I be jealous of him? I’m testing Grade One cars and he’s barely in the top ten in this series,” 

Shrugging, Suguru flops down on the couch next to him and grins, grabbing at his arms and pulling him toward him. “It’s okay to be jealous, you know. He’s better looking than you-” 

Satoru shoves him away, but he’s laughing, too, the scrabble of their limbs together lighting something deep and forgotten in Suguru’s chest. 

“He’s better at Italian-” 

“Shut up, he is not!” 

“A better driver-” 

“Now you’re just lying.” Satoru grins. 

Suguru feels his lips tug to the side. “Yeah, I’m lying. Now let me change into jeans and let’s go see these sponsors,” 

 

—

 

Satoru doesn’t draw attention in the garage anymore. The mechanics still make the odd comment about it, when he’s not there, but knowledge has spread about who he is. Son of Gojo Kiyoshi, Grade Three champion, motorsport royalty since birth. And now the youngest man to drive a Grade One car since Ryomen Sukuna. So yeah, the mechanics and the engineers don’t really want to talk about him anymore. 

He has to lean down to press his forehead in between Suguru’s shoulder blades with their height difference. Suguru accepts his touches easily: they breathe together, move together, laugh together. Satoru can read the data, and scowls when an engineer says something he doesn’t agree with, but he’s matured enough to wait to get Satoru alone to voice his concerns about it. 

For almost a decade, he’s had Satoru by his side in racing. He never really wants that to change. Which might be a terrifying thought, but it’s also just the truth. There’s a level of comfort in it. He feels bad when he realises he doesn’t miss Haibara and Nanami and Shoko as much as he misses Satoru, but it’s true. It’s different. 

He wins the race on Sunday. Lorenzo shares the podium with him for a P3. Satoru jumps on him, after, not caring about the not-champagne sticking to his skin. 

 

—

 

“Are you two…” Lorenzo trails off, like he doesn’t really know what to say. “You and Gojo, I mean.” 

Foreign people avoid saying Satoru’s first name all the time. Because Gojo is much easier to pronounce. Less chance of getting it wrong. 

“Are we what?” Suguru frowns, turning to look at him. They’re travelling back to headquarters together for more testing before Hockenheim next week. He expects Lorenzo to flush at the question, like everyone else does if he asks it. Usually if he plays dumb, pretends to not know what being gay is, they leave him alone. 

“Are you together?” Lorenzo says, without an inch of awkwardness, without any fear. “Is he your boyfriend, I mean. Because he was looking at me like he wanted to kill me all weekend.” 

It’s Suguru’s turn to stutter, because no one has ever been this direct about it with him before. Maybe it’s because Lorenzo is European. They tend to be more outright than Japanese people, after all. 

“I mean, it is okay if you two are. Well, maybe not, because I think you could do better, he is good looking, I suppose, but he is up himself and a bit of an asshole-” 

“He’s not an asshole.” Suguru says, far too quickly. Lorenzo smirks. “And we are not together. He’s my best friend.” 

Lorenzo laughs, “damn, does he know that?” 

“What do you mean?” Suguru knows his cheeks must be as red as the lights that they use to start the races. He knows what Lorenzo means. He’s not an idiot. But he needs to hear it said out loud. 

“He’s… very possessive of you. He is always touching you. You do not see it?” 

“No, I don’t.” Suguru says, maybe a touch too harsh. And that’s the end of that conversation. 

 

—

 

May 2022, Monaco

 

Just for the week of the Monaco Grand Prix, every year, the grade one higher-ups have built a rig in the harbour for hospitality. The teams have always gone there to celebrate, after a win, or even just a podium, taking photos with the sea and the pool that sits in the middle of the paddock club. 

In 2010, Gojo and Getou had ended up on the podium together, with Getou on the top step, Yuki in second, and Gojo in third. They hadn’t been on the same team, back then, and it had been a double podium for Keicho, and Getou’s first win. Gojo didn’t even care about losing, that day. He’d looked up at his best friend, glowing on the top step, tucking a strand of his long hair behind his ear, and felt as if the world had just begun. The teams had run down to the harbour together, after the podiums and the interviews. 

Gojo held Getou’s body with one arm and his bottle of champagne in the other. They’d posed for picture after picture, and then three of them stood on the edge of the pool smiling. Just them. And Gojo had gotten impatient. 

“I’m gonna jump in,” he’d said, stepping back. Getou had laughed, bright and brilliant and slightly tipsy from downing almost the entire bottle of champagne. 

“No you’re not, you’re still in your race suit!”

Gojo shrugged, “we have like a million of them,” and then grinned, because he knew what he was going to do next. He took a run-up to the pool, and, at the last minute, as he jumped, he’d wrapped his hands around Getou’s waist and took him with him. He still remembers his terrified, wildly undignified yelp as they hit the water, the laughter from the team personnel, and Getou’s cry of “Satoru!” as he came up gasping for air. 

Since then, jumping in the pool after a win in Monaco has become tradition. Gojo’s sure that it must be one of the most famous photos of them together. Maybe one of the most famous photos ever taken in Grade One. The photo of Satoru pulling Suguru into the water, the photos of them laughing together, drenched in the pool water, and the photo of Satoru looking painfully, honestly in love as he looks at Suguru, who wasn’t looking at him at all, gesturing to someone else. 

Twelve years later, the walk down to the harbour is different, and yet, the same. He knocks shoulders with Megumi, a double podium for Jujutsu Tech, and yet, he knows the real celebration will come from the two young upstarts that are on different teams: two future world champions in the making. Gojo feels like he has the authority to say that about them, with the experience he has. Time is a flat circle. 

Getou walks down with them, but stays a little further back, and Gojo notices the Hasaba twins flanking him. Mimiko managed a P3 today. Getou looks proud. 

The champagne bottles get abandoned immediately on the decking, but still, Megumi wrinkles his nose. “I don’t wanna go in.” 

Yuuji reacts comically fast: “aw, what? We have to, come on,” trying to convince him, but Gojo will let them have their moment later. For now, he half scoops up Megumi under his arms, and runs straight into the pool, dragging him with him. Megumi yelps, and shouts, “GOJO!” in his best impression of fury. Which is like a soaked cat scrabbling and unsheathing its claws at you. 

“CANNONBALL!” Yuuji screams, flipping off the decking and landing just beyond Gojo, soaking them both. Megumi squeaks again, covering his eyes. Yuuji comes up for air, slicking his hair back away from his face, and Megumi’s face goes bright red, eyes blown wide. It’s not quite the open yearning that Gojo displayed for Getou in 2010, but it is something equally incriminating. 

Then Yaga jumps in, dragging Shoko with him, who squeals about him ruining her dress. Gojo swims over to her, hugging her tight, “I’ll buy you another one, don’t worry,” 

She grins, punching him in the chest. 

Yuuji, in the meantime, has managed to perch himself on Megumi’s shoulders, clambering all over him. Megumi is trying earnestly to hold him up, which is sweet, as Yuuji cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Getou! Get in here!” 

Getou is standing at the edge of the pool, shaking his head and grinning. “Absolutely not,” 

Yuuji’s little face crumples, so Gojo peels himself away from Shoko, and climbs out the edge of the pool, shaking his hair off and stepping over to where Getou is standing. The other man instantly takes a step back from the edge. 

“Congrats on the win, Yuuji was incredible,” Gojo grins, offering a hand for Getou to shake. Skeptically, he takes it. 

In the last seven years, Gojo has become much, much stronger than Getou, because of his training. He’s also taller, and he uses that to his advantage as he yanks at Getou’s arm, hard, and uses his other hand to push at his back and send him stumbling forwards straight into the pool. The splash and resounding laughter and cheers satisfy something primal in him as he stands on the edge, watching Getou come up for air. 

“You owed me that after seven years of radio silence!” He shouts, and in response, Getou grabs his ankles and pulls Gojo in with him. 

Hearing Getou’s laughter is worth getting soaked all over again.

 

—

OFFICIAL G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SEVEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	124
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	103
3	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	102
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	83
5	Nanami KENTO (-1)	Sengoku	82
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	69
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	50
8	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	33
9	Nobara KUGISAKI (+1)	Meiji	29
10	Iori UTAHIME (-1)	Kyoto G1 Team	28

OFFICIAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SEVEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	207
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	205
3	Sengoku (=)	151
4	Meiji (=)	79
5	Haein (=)	36
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	31

—

Notes:

warnings: implied disordered eating/sensory difficulties, talk of homophobia (mostly implied).

i think this might be the most insane ive ever been. 10k in three days. holy shit. please please please comment i am on my knees begging.

the circuit referenced, is of course, Monte Carlo, Monaco. IRL, the pool celebrations are exclusive to redbull, because the pool is in their hospitality. in this fic, the barge doesn't exclusively belong to one team, so that megumi/yuuji can celebrate together (it was one of the moments i was waiting to write in this fic!!). Inspired by this moment in monaco 2010 with webber and vettel's 1-2 finish :) bonus!

anyway see u all next time. its probably gonna be a bit longer bc a) uni and b) my other fic <3

Chapter 8: viii - parc ferme

Summary:

A fenced-off area into which cars are driven after qualifying and the race, where no team members are allowed to touch them except under the strict supervision of race stewards.

Notes:

COME GET YALLS FOOD

tws in end notes, everything is tagged, but a word of warning things do get worse from here on out.

comment to feed my ego. might fuck about and write 10k in three days again if u hype me up enough

December 2007, Italy

 

Suguru doesn’t go home, even once he gets on break, mainly because he can’t afford the flights, and neither can his parents. His seat for 2008 hasn’t been confirmed yet: the Haein junior team has sent him a contract, but he hasn’t signed it. He needs to get concrete confirmation of which sponsors will support him going into Grade Three, which costs will be covered by who. And only then, when everything is agreed, will he finally be able to sign the piece of paper. 

Lorenzo isn’t going to Grade Three next season. He’s spending a third year in the GREC instead, probably because it’s slightly cheaper, but he’s moving to the Asian series: GRAC. He said to Suguru as they said their goodbyes that he’d maybe see him on track in 2009. Suguru doesn’t know how he would. He’s not really planning on staying in Grade Three very long. If he won GREC as a rookie, he could easily keep the momentum going. Apparently, the car in Grade Three is easier, compared to the GREC car, which makes no sense, but- well. If it’s true, it helps him out. 

He stays in Satoru’s house. It’s big enough that he can get lost in it, and they rarely see his dad, or his mom, or anyone really. Apart from the maids. Because apparently Satoru’s family is rich enough for maids. 

Satoru is lounging on the couch, his legs swinging over the arm rest. He never sits normally, ever. He’s playing on his new phone, the brand new thing that he got for Christmas that has something called a touch screen. He can, like, read emails on it, and stuff. And play more games, which is much more important to Satoru anyway. 

Suguru, meanwhile, has logged in on Satoru’s computer to scour and reply to emails, his own head cradled in his hand. They’re all the same, repetitive, and he really just wants to think about racing and training, and not whatever the hell this is. 

The computer makes a little noise notifying him he has a new message, and instinctively he groans at it. At the same time, Satoru hums, “you don’t have to respond to all of them, y’know.” 

“Yes, I do-” Suguru starts to reply, because he needs all the help he can get, and if he doesn’t reply within a day, the offers often get retracted. He means to say this to Satoru, but his words get caught in his throat, because the email that’s just come through has the subject line: [URGENT] INVITATION TO KEICHO DRIVER ACADEMY PROGRAM . Immediately sensing the change, Satoru sits up on the couch, attentive. 

“What’s wrong?” Satoru says, twisting his legs around as Suguru tentatively opens the email. Satoru leans onto his shoulder, and reads its contents out loud. 

“We hope this email finds you well. Following your sensational rookie season in GREC, we wish to warmly extend the invitation to you to join the Keicho family starting in the 2008 season, in our Driver Academy and Development program- wait, what-” 

Suguru scoffs, pointing at the next paragraph and beginning to read, “please contact our head office within three days if you wish to accept. We eagerly await your confirmation, and understand you may already be under contract for the 2008 season, but we would still like to discuss how we can support your career.” He trails off at the end, sort of dumbfounded because he expected there to be a catch. A hey! Got you! But there isn’t one. 

“This is amazing!” Satoru shakes Suguru’s shoulders violently, rattling his back against the chair. “They have the best driver program in the world, you know, and they want you,” 

“I can’t afford it,” Suguru says, “don’t I have to pay?” 

Satoru shakes his head, “no. You don’t. They support you, that’s how it works. But you probably will have to race for them in Grade One, in return-” 

Suguru’s head is spinning. He needs to sit down, but he’s already sat down. Maybe he needs to lie down. “Grade One ?” 

“Well yeah, this means that they wanna try and get you before the other teams do, they think you’re capable, that’s how development programs work.” Satoru says like it’s obvious, and then his face falls, “oh no, are you signed with Haein already?” 

“What, no! I didn’t have the sponsors, yet.” 

“Then what’s the problem?” 

Suguru turns back to the screen flickering in front of them. “Is this even real?” 

“Yes? It’s the official account and everything, like the one my dad gets his communications from, and Yaga. You could probably ask him,” 

A shock runs through Suguru. “Could it just be Yaga recommending me?” 

“No, he’s- Suguru. This is real.” 

“This is- I won’t have to worry about costs anymore, ever again.” 

“Yeah, and you get to drive for Keicho,” Satoru breathes out. Suguru watches his grin, the way his eyes light up, and breathes him in. 

He calls the head office. 

 

—

 

BREAKING: SATORU GOJO TO JOIN SENGOKU GRADE ONE TEAM IN 2008 - Grade One News

Written by Finley Hutcherson, 30th December 2007

 

In a shock move, Sengoku have made an announcement that their junior driver will make the jump from Grade Three to Grade One for the 2008 season. When the season begins, he will be eighteen, making him the youngest driver to ever enter the series. He will partner twenty-eight year old Toji Fushiguro beginning in March, where the season kicks off at Albert Park. 

The decision was driven by Gojo’s “raw pace” in testing over the winter break, and his dominant win in Grade Three that saw him win in difficult conditions by over thirty seconds. 

Still, the decision to promote such a young, relatively inexperienced driver means the team is facing intense criticism from its competitors, who cite the decision as dangerous for everyone else on the track. 

 

—

 

SENGOKU RACING TEAM ☑  @ SengokuG1Official 4h ago

We are pleased to announce that Satoru Gojo will race with us in Grade One for 2008! Read more: {link}

 

[Image ID: Gojo standing on top of his Grade Three car after winning the final race and the championship in Brazil in 2007. He is raising his fist to the sky.] 

 

2.4K Likes  200 Retweets  400 Replies 

 

> david @racingdad23 2h ago

He is truly a brilliant talent, but rushing him into Grade One? Huge mistake. 

1.3K Likes 102 Retweets 2 Replies

 

> Jemma Bens @ jemimas 3h ago

Why him and not one of the drivers from G2? He’s still a kid! 

900 Likes 34 Retweets 1 Replies

 

> Racing Fan 66 @zenindynasty 1h ago  

What a joke. That can’t be safe in G1, he’s going to crash into someone. 

234 Likes 14 Retweets 5 Replies

>> Motorsport News @carsdaily 45m ago

@zenindynasty No idea why they wouldn’t try and poach Tsukumo from Keicho if they wanted someone up and coming? 

123 Likes 2 Retweets 1 Replies

>>> Racing Fan 66 @zenindynasty 1h ago

@carsdaily I think Yuki signed for Keicho over summer break. She was in the academy anyway so she has to be loyal. 

54 Likes 1 Retweets

 

SCUDERIA KEICHO ☑ @ScuderiaKeichoRacing 1h ago

We are excited to announce the signing of Japanese junior driver and GREC rookie champion Suguru Getou to our roster under our driver academy and development program! Read more: {link} 

 

[Image ID: Getou on the podium at the GREC race in Zandvoort. He’s smiling, holding the trophy above his head with one hand.]

 

3.2K Likes 562 Retweets 1.2K Replies

 

> Misturi @ mitsukijjr 56m ago

Congrats from Japan Getou! We are cheering you on always! 

(Translated from Japanese: Rate Translation )

1.9K Likes 232 Retweets 32 Replies

 

> Katie Dawson @ dawsonkatie 45m ago

I thought he was a Haein junior? What happened?

321 Likes 23 Retweets 54 Replies

>> Motorsport News @carsdaily 34m ago

@dawsonkatie He only signed for them up until end of 2007, driving their livery. They haven’t had any spots open in their development program for a while. This definitely means he’s finally getting that well-deserved G3/G2 seat though, which is promising.

125 Likes 12 Retweets

 

Josie !! @josiejones18 55m ago

He defo deserves this! That rookie GREC win was incredible. Future world champ! 

54 Likes 3 Retweets 2 Replies 

> Racing Fan 66 @zenindynasty 46m ago

@josiejones18 Bit early for that, isn’t it? 

22 Likes 2 Retweets

>> Josie !! @josiejones18 44m ago

@zenindynasty The GREC car is famously one of the most difficult feeder series to drive. He mastered it in his rookie season, he’s incredible. 

20 Likes 1 Retweets

>>> Racing Fan 66 @zenindynasty 39m ago

@josiejones18 But he still couldn’t beat Gojo.

12 Likes

 

—

 

June 2022, Azerbaijan

 

Something changes after Monaco. It’s easier, now, to acknowledge each other in the paddock. Gojo hopes that maybe, this means they’re getting somewhere. They can’t be friends, exactly, not like they used to be, being on rival teams and all, but they could be acquaintances, maybe. If Gojo can deal with the fact that he might well still be in love with Getou after seven years of radio silence. 

Which is just pathetic, really. Honestly, he can’t even say anything to Megumi about his embarrassing crush on Yuuji anymore, because the last time he did, on the plane on the way to Baku, the kid raised an eyebrow, looked back at him and said something along the lines of, “well, at least I didn’t look like this in Monaco,” and pulled up the photos that they’d taken of the pool celebrations. 

Apparently, according to Shoko, the photos are everywhere. All over Twitter, for them to speculate whether Gojo and Getou are friends now, whether they want to tear each others’ throats out, or whether they’ve explored each others’ bodies . Nobara told him that one, giggling profusely with Yuuji wheezing behind her. 

Gojo doesn’t look at social media, though. So he’s not seen any of them. 

The photo itself isn’t- well. It’s not 2010. Gojo is grinning, with Getou facing him in the water with a matching smile. It was taken right after Getou pulled him in, and Gojo is slicking his hair back away from his face, looking at Getou’s flushed cheeks. 

The one caption he saw, the post that Shoko showed him, read: when your driver wins a grand prix . Gojo isn’t sure if the caption alludes to Yuuji being Getou’s driver, Megumi being Gojo’s, or Gojo being Getou’s. He doesn’t pay it too much mind. 

Jujutsu Tech and Scuderia Keicho come into Baku equal on points. It’s a street circuit like Monaco, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Monaco is narrow, with minimal overtake opportunities, Baku’s circuit is wide, with a long main straight that makes the DRS incredibly powerful. It’s a good five years old, now, but when compared to Gojo’s career, it still feels relatively new and shiny. 

The thing about street circuits - temporary facilities, if you will - is that they start off incredibly slippery. As they rubber in over the course of the weekend, it gets easier to find grip out on track, and therefore gets easier to push. It’s not a new circuit for Megumi, since he raced here in Grade Two last year, at least. 

But Getou never raced here. He quit before it got introduced. And something about that makes Gojo feel off kilter about the whole weekend. 

Monaco is Getou’s. It’s also Gojo’s. They stood on the podium there, together, and laughed, and cried, and witnessed a death there. But Baku is neutral ground, brand new. 

But Monaco’s changed things, because Getou smiles at him in the paddock, easy and open, and for the first time in a decade, it’s easy for Gojo to smile back, cameras be damned. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou, Team Principal of Scuderia Keicho, Baku Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe, G1TV

 

Q: You and Jujutsu Tech come into this weekend equal on points, but they remain ahead because of Gojo’s wins. Is there any particular strategy to try and break the tie?

SUGURU GETOU: No. I believe our driver pairing is overall stronger, and we believe that our car will be strong here, with a mix of low speed corners and long straights. 

Q: How do you build from the momentum of that Monaco win? Of course, Yuuji is looking very strong. 

SG : Thank you. We will keep our heads down, not let ourselves get too excited over it. 

Q: So you weren’t out partying after that win?

SG: [laughs] You got us there. Of course, we relax, we party, and then we go again. We have a long season ahead of us. Itadori knows that. 

Q: Coming into this weekend, your drivers are also almost equal on points. Will you pick a number one driver to try and clinch the drivers’ championship, or is Gojo too strong? 

SG : Gojo is always strong, but last weekend showed us he is not infallible, and he never has been, I mean, look at 2014, even 2013. I think both drivers are hungry for it, and they’re both close to Gojo in the standings, so we will see. 

 

—

 

Yuuji, much like Gojo, likes a street circuit. Gojo’s first win ever was on a street circuit. They both enjoy the pressure, the way that you have to breathe along the barriers and if you make a mistake, you’re in them. 

It works in drivers’ favours, and it works against them, sometimes. But it doesn’t take from the pure excitement, the adrenaline of it all. 

Meanwhile, Getou had preferred a traditional circuit. And so does Yuuta. He’s been pretty vocal about not liking the slipperiness, the low speed corners, the newness of it all. Which, sometimes Gojo thinks is a little silly, coming from a driver so young. At least when Getou started, there weren’t many street circuits on the calendar at all. Back then, there was Singapore, Monaco, Valencia, for the few years they tried it out. Canada, if you count it, which Gojo doesn’t, but Utahime and Shoko do.  

Now there’s Miami, Baku, Jeddah, Las Vegas, next year, probably. Or 2024. Gojo doesn’t know if the higher ups will get their shit together in time to run it next season or not. And still, Monaco, tale as old as time, oldest grade one track in the world. 

Getou won an awful lot at Monaco for someone who claimed to not like street circuits, but he digresses. 

So, with the teams fairly evenly split on preference coming in, Baku feels much like an equaliser. Gojo leads the championship by twenty-one points, which means that he has to stay in the top three to stay ahead, if either Yuuji or Yuuta manages a win. If they manage a one-two finish, Jujutsu Tech is basically fucked in terms of the constructors’.

The worst thing is that the reporters know this. They’re like sharks to blood, the fuckers, and Gojo and Megumi have been sat down with all their PR team members and told sternly to not act cocky, not to make promises they can’t keep. Megumi rolls his eyes and says it’s Gojo they need to tell that to, in a good-natured, kind of joking way, and Gojo can’t even disagree, is the thing. He’s not humble enough to say he’s unsure of his ability to win. Because he always is sure of it. 

The only time he’s ever been unsure was when his best friend, who might have been more naturally talented than he ever was, was in equal machinery next to him, with a literal, honest-to-god win-or-die mentality and a death wish. So. 

Still, it feels like lying by omission when he lets Megumi say they’ll do their best, not promising a podium. Gojo knows what the press is like when they’re promised something, though, and it feels like the best way to not jinx themselves. 

Thursday is- it’s fine. Baku is one of the less chaotic races on the calendar: most of the fans are in Italy, England and France, Western Europe. The media are ruthless, asking questions about the pace of the cars, how the drivers are going to edge each other out, about mistakes that could be made in qualifying. 

What’s less predictable, though, is the sheer volume of the line of questioning around who will be the number one driver at Keicho. Someone actually has the gall to ask Gojo about it in a press conference, where he’s sat in between Yuuta and Utahime: “Gojo, as someone who’s worked closely with both Yuuta and Yuuji, who do you think deserves the chance to go up against you in the drivers’ championship?” 

Gojo honestly can’t believe he’s even being asked this, with one of the said drivers right next to him . An ex-teammate who he respects massively, despite privately thinking he has less natural pace than Yuuji. A driver who beat him last season, who stepped up to the plate and delivered incredible results when the car decided it actively wanted Gojo dead. Even Utahime beside him has a reaction, a raise of her eyebrows and a twitch of her lips. Despite not really liking each other at all, Gojo and Utahime have known each other for a very long time, and he was teammates with her for almost five years, so he can tell what she wants to say: what a stupid question, both of them are near equal on points and he’s not their boss . 

Gojo kind of wants to say the same thing, but instead he grins, adjusting his sunglasses and leaning forward to the mic. “Megumi. Next question.” 

Everyone laughs, and the reporter who asked the question barely shakes his head. Honestly he should know better than to expect Gojo to give him an answer he wants. 

When they leave, they find the team principals standing outside in a circle: their press conference is next, in about twenty minutes, so they’re having a little meeting, apparently. Gojo leans in and grins at them, knowing that a good fifty percent of them would stab each other in the back if it meant they got to sign Gojo onto their team. Too bad he’s never leaving Yaga. Or Shoko. 

He grasps Yaga’s hand in a firm handshake, and Yaga turns to him, smiling. “All good, kid?” 

“Kid,” Gojo laughs, because he’s not a kid anymore, he’s over thirty, but Yaga still looks at him the same, still calls him the same. It’s a relieving constant. “Yeah, same old.”

Yuuta brushes past the group, and murmurs something to Getou as he passes by that Gojo doesn’t catch. Getou frowns, but lets him go with a brush of his hand on his shoulder. When he turns back toward the circle, his eyes immediately find Gojo’s. “They asked you about Yuuta and Yuuji?” 

“Yeah. Who I think should be the number one driver, as if I’m their boss. Or my opinion holds any weight.” 

Getou raises an eyebrow, as if to say it does hold weight, here , but he doesn’t say it. Instead, he tilts his head, with a twinkle in his eye, and asks, “so? What’d you say?” 

Gojo shrugs, “I said it should be Megumi.” 

Getou laughs, loud, once, a loud bark, and lets his arms fall by his sides. Gojo tries very very hard not to stare at the now exposed lines of his shirt over his stomach, and kind of fails. 

A representative shouts from the door, “we’re ready for the team principals!” And then the moment is broken, because everyone is shuffling around to go into the motorhome. 

Yaga presses a palm flat to his shoulder as he departs, and Gojo smiles at him, because they’ll talk later. Getou, however, waits a short second more than the others to move, and when he does, he brushes past Gojo way too close for comfort. Their sides press together, hips bumping, and he reaches his arm all the way across his chest to pat at the opposite shoulder. He tilts his face, whispering, “next time they ask you that, you should be honest, it suits you more, when you’re arrogant.” 

Gojo stands very, very still for a full ten seconds after he goes, feeling the blush that started in his right shoulder spread all the way across his body. 

And what the hell does Getou mean, arrogant?! 

 

—

 

In free practice one, Yuuji tops the leaderboards. Gojo comes in close behind him, followed by Nanami, and then Yuuta and Megumi, and Inumaki. Which means that the Sengoku will also give them trouble this weekend, Shoko says solemnly, as they sit in the debrief. 

Gojo can’t help but agree. 

 

—

 

January 2008, Italy

 

Suguru isn’t bitter about it. He isn’t. 

This time, at least, he didn’t learn from the news. He learnt from Gojo’s excited squeals as he tackled him to the ground and laughed with the elation of it. He’ll be driving in Grade One, next season, the youngest ever. Sure, he’ll be in a team that isn’t particularly competitive, right now, but he’s in. And if you can drive a shitbox well enough for points finishes, well. It’s only a matter of time before a top team scouts you, and then you can fight for titles. 

Suguru wouldn’t exactly call a team who’s currently sitting in a solid third in the constructors’ with a minimal gap to second a non-competitive team, but that’s what Satoru is calling it, so.

He’s not bitter about remaining two steps behind someone he was next to on the podium a matter of two years ago. Because Satoru has the money, the name, and he works hard, but Suguru has been aware for a while that he has to work ten times harder than anyone else. So he’s not bitter, because finally, he’s going to be in Grade Three, in a Keicho, in a driver academy, in a development program that wants him to succeed. 

Oh, and Satoru says that Shoko might come up into Grade Three, too, considering her results in last season’s Grade Four were good, finishing P2, but she hasn’t said anything about it to Suguru. And then there’s the fact that he’s going to be racing at all of the same circuits as Satoru again. Finally, they’ll be somewhat together again. It doesn’t matter that Suguru will be two steps below him, he’ll be racing at the same tracks, they’ll be breathing the same air. 

Haibara and Nanami are moving into GREC, and coming to Europe to do it, too. Haibara’s been messaging Suguru eagerly about coming to races and cheering them on. 

The best thing about being signed to Keicho is that, unlike Haein, they’re an Italian team. Their main headquarters is an hour’s drive from Satoru’s house, and he takes his driver’s test in mid January, after a week’s worth of lessons, and passes, because he already knows how to drive a car. He buys a shitty little thing with seven hundred euros from his savings, so he can drive himself to headquarters, and it feels like freedom, in a way. 

Today, he’s finally getting fitted for his seat, and getting his new team clothes, and he’s excited, if not nervous. Satoru took it upon himself to come with him, and since Satoru’s dad is still Keicho royalty, even if he never won a championship, Satoru is perfectly welcome, speaking in perfect Italian. He’s been teaching Suguru, in their spare time, but his accent leaves much to be desired, so he sticks to English. They seem fairly forgiving of it, anyway. 

Fitting the seat takes longer than Suguru thought it would, and they hand him a full box of branded T-shirts, and jackets, and of course, his actual race clothes. In his contract, there’s a stipulation that whenever he’s at the track, he has to be wearing team gear, so that everyone knows who he drives for, who he’s sponsored by. 

A middle aged woman sits across the table from him as they talk it over, and says, rather matter of fact, “you will of course have to maintain a weight of around sixty-five kilos, to continue to drive. Since you’re tall, we are willing to make an allowance of five kilos for you, our drivers usually have to be below sixty.” 

Suguru blinks at her, and then smiles, “I can do sixty,” 

The woman beams, “they told me you were eager to please! Of course, thank you, Getou,” 

None of the Italians can say his first name right, and everyone baulks seeing his name written in Romaji on paper, so he took pity on them and told them they could call him Getou, in the same way Satoru lets the Europeans call him Gojo. 

He stumbles out into the lobby, ready to go home, and Satoru takes the box from him, “do you need your helmet? They have it, right?” 

“Not yet. They’re gonna give it to me when testing starts,” Suguru replies. 

Satoru wrinkles his nose, “aw. I wanted to see it.” And then: “y’know, we’ve never swapped helmets,” 

Suguru laughs as they make their way back to his shitty car. Maybe if he drives for Keicho in Grade One, they’ll give him a properly fancy car, a sleek thing that looks like an animal and roars like one too. But he’s not there, yet. So. “Why would we swap helmets?”

Satoru snorts, “all the grade one drivers do it. They’re like, momentos of races and stuff.” Gojo has a supercar, now. A Sengoku, a new one that they’ve just released. It’s not really his, Satoru says, because Fushiguro, his older teammate, has a custom one built just for him, and Satoru only has one to promote. He can’t even drive it himself, yet, because he doesn’t have a driver’s licence. He failed, the first time, because he didn’t check something in his mirrors properly, which Getou found hilarious, given he doesn’t check his mirrors on the racetrack, either. 

“What helmet would you even want of mine?” 

“We should swap our Grade Four helmets. I would say our karting ones, ‘cause thats when we met, but I’m not sure I still have mine.” 

Suguru still has his, in the garage in his house back home. It’s sat on top of his old electric kart, that he really should sell, now, but can’t bring himself to. 

“Sure, when we’re back in Japan.” Suguru hums, unlocking the door of his car. Satoru darts round to the other side, adding, “and I want your first helmet from Grade One!” 

Suguru laughs at the certainty of it, folding himself into the driver’s seat.

As soon as he’s in the passenger side, Satoru tears open the box and starts rooting around in it. “It’s all red! Do you even suit red?” 

“I dunno, I’ll have to suit red,” Suguru replies, a grin on his face. He can’t really afford to not suit red. It’s the team’s colours, and they have a history with it, and he is going to be their future. He has to be their future, because if he isn’t, he’ll have to crawl back to Japan with his tail between his legs. 

“You’d look better in purple,” Satoru grins. Purple is his colour, starting next year. Sengoku races in a deep violet, with silver detailing on the livery of the car. But Suguru won’t be racing in purple. He’ll be in red, probably until he gets to Grade One, where he’ll race in white, which is Nara’s colours. It’s unlikely, after all, that the team will put him straight into the main Keicho team, and Nara takes on Keicho juniors all the time since Keicho supplies their engines and power units. 

“Sure, lemme call up your boss and ask to be your teammate just because,” Suguru laughs, instead, “I’m sure that’ll go well.” 

Satoru scoffs, “well, I’m not wearing red,” 

“I think you’d suit it, y’know,” 

“It makes my hair look pink,” Satoru huffs, “no I don’t, and you know it,” 

It’s silly, because Keicho is the top team right now, and probably will be for a while, so if Satoru wants to win, he will probably have to race in red at some point. But if anyone could win without the top car, it would be Satoru, so Suguru isn’t sure. 

But Satoru is determined not to race at the same team his dad did. Given the disdain Satoru shows Keicho in general, he was kind of wanting to avoid them, but:

Beggars can’t be choosers. 

Then Satoru’s phone rings, and he fumbles around in his back pocket to find it. “Oh, it’s Shoko,” he frowns as he answers, “hey, what’s up? Yeah, he’s here, I’ll put you on speaker, he’s driving, though,” 

“Is this a bad time?” Shoko’s voice comes over the phone, tinny, “I can call back later, maybe,” 

“Nah, I can listen and drive,” Suguru laughs, “you okay?” 

“Uh.” Shoko’s voice drops an octave, and Suguru can hear her sigh, “I have something to tell you both,” 

“Spit it out,” Satoru says, not unkindly. 

“I’m not going to Grade Three,” she says. And Suguru is disappointed, but he’s not necessarily surprised. 

“What? Why!” Satoru huffs, pulling the phone towards himself, “you’re good enough,” 

“I know I’m good enough,” Shoko says, on the other end, and Satoru can tell she’s annoyed, “but I’m not good enough for Grade One, probably, and I want to go to University,” 

Suguru flexes his fingers around the wheel and sighs, “I’ll miss you,” 

“I miss you too,” Shoko says, “but I’ll fly out to some races. I have free time around Australia, I think, my parents will pay for the flights,” 

“It’s not the same , though,” Satoru whines, “come on, Shoko, you had offers,” 

“I want to study engineering,” Shoko huffs, “and that usually requires focus and dedication, not that you’d know anything about that,” she says, and Suguru can hear her grin. 

“Where are you applying to?” 

“Tokyo,” Shoko hums, “but also MIT, in America, and Singapore, there’s a good engineering course, Zurich, uhm. There’s one in London.” 

“You’ve been planning this for a while,” Satoru frowns, looking out the window so Suguru can’t see his face, “those are like, top universities.” 

Shoko laughs over the phone, “I’m smart, Satoru. I’m going to be a better engineer than a driver.”

Satoru doesn’t reply, looking dejected, and Suguru takes it upon himself to fill the silence, “I’m proud of you.” 

“Thanks, Suguru,”

 

—

 

He calls his dad to tell him about the new race suits and the seat fitting. He doesn’t mention the weight requirements. He tells him how excited he is for testing, and leaves out how much pressure there is for him to get it right and to be fast. His dad is thrilled for him, and it’s so nice to hear his voice over the phone, even if the call is short because of the international rates. 

He cries when he hangs up. But if he manages to get a testing role, he can afford to fly his father over soon. He just has to wait. 

 

—

 

2008 G3 PRE-SEASON TESTING BARCELONA - DAY 2 - PM SESSION TIMES

Note: (R) Indicates the driver is a rookie. 

 

POS	NAME	TEAM	TIME	GAP TO LEADER
1	Jack KING	POINT Racing Team	1:28:36	Interval
2	Suguru GETOU (R)	Keicho Junior	1:28:43	+0:00:07
3	Gabriele GARCIA	Haein Juniors	1:28:96	+0:00:60
4	Emily LISTER	Nitro G3	1:29:15	+0:00:69
5	Hanna BROWNING	Racing FRANCE	1:29:24	+0:00:88
6	Leo GRAY	Nara AJT	1:29:57	+0:01:21
7	Alexandra COHEN	Nitro G3	1:29:76	+0:01:40
8	Hunter SMITH	Aston G3 Team	1:29:92	+0:01:56
9	Gerald KILLIAN	Nitro G3	1:30:04	+0:01:68
10	Aimee SMITH	Keicho Junior	1:30:34	+0:01:98

 

—

 

June 2022, Azerbaijan

 

Qualifying on Saturday is relatively predictable, and the car performs as expected. Gojo ends Q3 on pole, gives his interviews, and dips. What is a surprise, though, is the Keicho. Because Yuuji starts P5, and Yuuta is behind him in P6. 

The second surprise of qualifying is the absolute pace of the Sengoku. Nanami manages P2, and Inumaki is right behind him in P3, which makes for an entertaining press conference, after, because Inumaki doesn’t speak and has to use an interpreter, which pisses off a few of the reporters. And it’s always fun to piss off reporters. 

Megumi starts in P4, which is a good result, and with both cars ahead of the Keichos, they stand a pretty good chance. 

The drivers’ parade in Baku has no individual cars for them, and instead they all climb onto a float. Gojo likes it better like this, sometimes, because this way he can stand next to Nanami and take the piss out of him, or he can rile up Utahime with his crowing. 

Toto comes on the float with them, and pants softly where Megumi, Yuuji and Nobara stand shoulder to shoulder with each other. Nobara leans across, placing her head on Megumi’s shoulder, and Megumi lets her. 

Even Nanami turns to watch them, and smiles tiredly, in that way that he does. Gojo bumps shoulders with him, and adjusts his sunglasses. Usually it’s Gojo’s job to start conversations with him: he’s talkative enough, but not forthcoming about it, and Gojo often feels like he’s nagging Nanami into conversation. But not this time, because Nanami sighs and says, “do they remind you of us, back when we were rookies?” 

It’s not a concrete comparison, because none of them shared a rookie season. Gojo debuted in 2008, Getou in 2010. Nanami didn’t have his first full season until 2013, and Haibara didn’t get a seat until 2014. But from 2008 onwards, they had all raced at the same tracks, breathed the same air, ran for the same podiums. They’d had the same successes, the same failures, the same ups and downs. So Gojo gets what Nanami is trying to say. 

“Yeah,” he replies, biting back a joke, “a little.”

Nanami laughs, “I hope they turn out better than us,” 

Gojo knows what he’s referring to. Haibara is at home in France this weekend, on bed rest with his legs flaring up again. He’s texted Gojo to let him know, and said something about the painkillers making him loopy. Another opiate, no doubt, but Gojo didn’t ask which one it was, this time. 

“Is Haibara doing okay?” 

“His leg is locking up again, something to do with the scar tissue.” Nanami runs his hand over his face, and Satoru can see the tan line from his wedding ring in the light. He squints at it. “They can’t do much. It’s just the way things are.” 

A career cut short, a life changed. Haibara has said before that he wouldn’t have had it any other way, in front of cameras, but the accident wasn’t his fault, and it wasn’t something that should have been allowed to happen to him. He understands the risk, but Haibara hadn’t been taking a risk at the time. 

So he understands the desire to protect the younger drivers: from criticism, from accidents, from the press. But to succeed in this sport, you have to be tough, and God knows that Gojo’s twenties were filled with being toughened up from the inside out.

“They won’t operate?” 

“Not again, not yet,” Nanami says, a breath escaping him, “I know the safety has improved, in the last five years, with the halo, with everything being changed, but weeks like this are still-” 

Gojo grimaces, “yeah. Yeah, they are.” 

Nanami hums, looking up at the crowd and waving. “Are you and Getou friends again?” 

I’m pretty sure he’s flirting with me in the paddock but we still can’t have a meaningful conversation. “We’re something.” 

“That counts, right?”  

Counts, as something to be repaired, something to be salvaged, from the wreckage of their racing days. “Dunno,”

Nanami rolls his eyes, “well, he talks about you. Apparently. Haibara says. I don’t talk to him myself much, you know that, but I think you need a push,” 

Gojo huffs, because he’s never needed a push for anything in his life, and he isn’t about to start needing one now. “Right, thanks.” 

Nanami shrugs, a small, self-satisfied smile on his face, and turns away to wave. When Gojo looks over, Yuuji is staring at him, so he takes pity on the kid and walks over. 

“You okay?” 

Yuuji nods, “P5 is a bit shit when I’m meant to be fighting for a title, though, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, is it you fighting for the title?” Gojo laughs, “they’ve decided all of a sudden?” 

Yuuji looks guilty, shifting between his feet as he waves out to the crowds. Gojo raises a single eyebrow, “oh, they actually have?” 

“Uh. No. But Getou has basically said they’ll prioritise who’s ahead by summer break, so,” 

The first thing that Gojo thinks about that is that it’s a weird strategy. If Gojo has a good run, he could easily build a lead on both of them by summer, enough that it would be a canyon to cross. If they want a shot at the drivers’ against him in a dominant car, they need to decide now. Especially if Nanami and Inumaki start being consistent podium contenders. 

But deciding now would mean prioritising Yuuji off the back of a win, and the sponsors for the team desperately don’t want to do that, so maybe it’s a compromise. A way of trying to give Yuuji an opportunity. Apparently, though, Gojo’s thoughts show clear on his face, because Yuuji groans. “I know. I think Getou thinks the same, ‘cause if we’re fighting each other until– fuckin’-- Hungary, you’re gonna pull some insane points gap,” 

Gojo shrugs, “did Getou say that?” 

Yuuji laughs, “no, but he’s thinking it. We’re all thinking it!”

Megumi glances over from where he’s standing with Nobara, and Gojo becomes aware that this is something that they probably shouldn’t be talking about now, even if it is common knowledge that Keicho’s politics are weird as fuck amongst the grid. 

“Then you go into summer break ahead on points.” Gojo murmurs, wrapping an arm around Yuuji’s shoulders, “I know you. I know you can do it.” 

“What, beat you?” 

Gojo grins, “nope, I’m gonna win. But I think you should be the one to fight me.” 

 

—

 

The Keichos, for whatever reason, really don’t have the pace this weekend, even when it comes to the race. Gojo keeps expecting them to be on him, but he pulls a ten second gap to Nanami and stays out in front the entire time. He keeps asking for updates on the car behind, and Shoko keeps telling him car behind is Kento, ten-point-four .

Then there’s a safety car in lap forty-five, with Gojo well into his stint on the hards, and if they pit, they’ll come out behind both Nanami and Inumaki, and possibly behind Megumi, so Shoko tells him to stay out and hold position. Unfortunately, the gap behind Nanami and Inumaki is much larger, and they pit behind without losing positions, meaning that when the safety car ends on lap forty-eight, he’s got two Sengokus right up his ass on new softs, whilst he’s on near-forty-lap old hards. 

He manages to hold off Nanami for two laps before he catches him, and passes with the DRS assistance. Gojo, at the very least, manages to use Nanami’s slipstream to stay with him, creating somewhat of a DRS train between the three of them to hold off Inumaki. 

Sometimes that’s all it takes: a bit of bad luck. But it’s Nanami’s first win in the Sengoku, and both Keichos have finished behind them, so it’s still a good result, even if he’s not quite on the top step. Besides, it means he gets to annoy Nanami, laughing at him as he shakes his shoulders and rattles him from side to side. Then Inumaki jumps between them, arms over their shoulders - a double podium for any team is exciting, and Inumaki’s voice is hoarse when he says through his helmet, “I almost had you at the end, Gojo!” 

“Dream on,” Gojo laughs, even though it’s true, Inumaki only needed one more lap to get past him probably. 

Inumaki jumps into the throng of Sengoku mechanics hollering at the barriers, because they’ve won, and Gojo pats his old friend on the shoulder and smiles, “go to them.” 

You deserve it. You fought for this. And so Nanami goes, arms open into his team, who cheer and slap him on the back as Gojo hears his laugh, muted behind the helmet. In all his years at JTR, his wins were never like this. They were never against odds. 

He goes to his own team, clasps hands with Shoko, and laughs, “who crashed?” 

“Mai,” she replies, and Gojo laughs, because of course it’s her. 

He pulls his helmet off as he goes to get weighed, and bumps shoulders with Nanami again as they put their helmets down on the podiums. Then he sees Yuuji running up, helmet still on, and grabbing for Nanami’s hands. “You won?” He shouts, and Nanami nods. 

Now that his helmet is off, he can see all the lines and grooves in Nanami’s soft smile as Yuuji hugs him, laughing out a pleased, “well done Nanamin!” 

When Yuuji runs off to be weighed, Gojo raises an eyebrow at him. “You hate when I call you that.” 

“Well, Yuuji isn’t an insufferable ass.” Nanami says, but he’s still smiling. 

Gojo guesses he isn’t the only one with a soft spot for the kid, then. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND EIGHT - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	142
2	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	112
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	111
4	Nanami KENTO (+1)	Sengoku	107
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	95
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	84
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	51
8	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	37
9	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	36
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	32

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS’ CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND EIGHT

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	237
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	223
3	Sengoku (=)	191
4	Meiji (=)	87
5	Haein (=)	43
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	35

 

—

Gojo offers dinner to Nanami, as a treat for the winner. It somehow ends up as a group outing, with Megumi, Yuuji, Yuuta, Shoko, Yaga, Inumaki, Panda, Maki (as Nobara’s plus one) and somehow, Todou. 

Gojo thinks about biting the bullet and asking Getou to come with them, since both of his drivers are coming out, but he doesn’t. Mimiko won the G2 race today. He probably wants to celebrate with her and Nanako. Who he was spotted with again this week, no big deal. 

He supposes that usually, Haibara would come out with them, too, and Gojo feels his absence like pins and needles in his feet. 

Nanami refuses to pick the restaurant, so Shoko leads them to the place she and Gojo had dinner together at last year: a nice  that’s out of the way and expensive enough that they won’t be bothered too much. The poor waitress gawks at them, and definitely recognises Yuuji, out of all them, which is admittedly a little funny given that Gojo, six time world champion, and Yuuta, the current world champion, are both standing right next to him.

Gojo’s not even sure if Yuuji realises he was recognised: she’s not subtle about it, but he’s completely oblivious until they sit down and Nobara groans at him, “she was totally flirting with you, dude,”

“What? No, she wasn’t,” Yuuji’s eyes go wide, almost comically so, “she was just being nice,” 

“Yeah, to you specifically, even though Gojo’s the one dressed like a fucking billionaire,” 

“What does dressed like a billionaire even mean?” Megumi looks confused at the statement, on top of his usual stony expression when anyone shows an interest in Yuuji. 

“Yeah, you make no sense!” Yuuji grins, smug, leaning back in his seat like he’s won the argument. Nobara huffs and gives up, but looks across the table at Gojo instead, and she definitely knows she’s right. 

Maki turns up a little bit later, saying she was at a debrief that overran, and Gojo realises he hasn’t seen her in a while. 

“You cut your hair?” 

“Yeah,” Maki says, a smile on her face as she takes the open seat in between Nobara and Yuuta, who smiles warmly at her. He forgets they’re friends. Her hair is cut completely off, into a pixie cut, if you could call it that. 

“It looks good,” Gojo grins, and she smiles at him in that self-assured way she does when she doesn’t really care about your opinion, but she appreciates the effort anyway. 

“Thanks.” 

Maki is a new hire. Up until the beginning of the season, she was racing part time and studying part time at Tokyo University, in grade three. But she’d graduated with honours and despite having good results, the Zenins hadn’t wanted her promoted to grade two. It was a tough pill to swallow, but she got the offer for race engineer from Meiji, and now she’s part of the grade one grid, like she deserves to be. 

Gojo would prefer her as the Zenin’s choice over Mai, but it was never his decision, and their politics are honestly above his pay grade, even as the highest-paid driver in the history of the sport. Besides, Maki is exceptional in her own way - the youngest engineer in Meiji, and one of the youngest on the grid in general, alongside Todou. 

According to offhand comments made by Megumi and Yuuji, Gojo thinks Nobara might have asked for her specifically, but it’s hard to tell. 

They were teammates at some point in the lower grades, Nobara the junior learning from Maki’s experience, and stayed close. Gojo likes Maki, anyway, she’s smart and forward-thinking, and someday will make a great head strategist. He’d honestly like to poach her for Jujutsu Tech in a couple years. He’s told Yaga as much, and he agreed on the potential. Shoko likes her too, and joked about her being a worthy replacement as an engineer, but Gojo is never letting Shoko go, so. 

They’ve allowed themselves the night off the meal plans, and when the waitress comes back, most of the drinks orders she takes are expensive wines or for hard liquor. Only Gojo orders something non-alcoholic, out of all of them. Most of them have wine, red. Rosé, for Nobara. Rum for Todou, some fruity sweet cocktail that costs far too much money for Yuuji. 

Yuuji tells Megumi to taste it, and Megumi immediately leans over, takes a sip, and wrinkles his nose. “Why do you like this?” 

Yuuji flushes, pulling the glass away, “it’s nice!” 

Gojo opens up his hand, gesturing to Yuuji across the table, and takes a sip himself. It’s fruity sweet, with a bitter twang as an aftertaste. Lime, probably. But not a mojito: Gojo has had enough of those in his life to tell them apart from whatever this is.

Nobara frowns at him, “I thought you were sober,” 

Gojo shrugs, “not strictly, I just don’t enjoy alcohol,” 

Shoko snickers beside him, “yeah, he’s just a bigger fan of coke,” 

Gojo elbows her silent, but Nobara and Yuuji still giggle. 

 

—

March 2008, Australia 

 

Being at a real Grade Race (capital letters included) is so much more hectic than he could’ve ever imagined. 

He and Satoru share a flight across the world, which takes far too long by all accounts, really. Almost twenty four hours, with the layover, and when they get back to the hotel, Suguru crashes in Satoru’s room, exhausted. 

“You’ll have to go in the morning early, probably,” Satoru murmurs, blinking with heavy eyelids. “Someone from the team’s gonna come find me.” 

The last testing rounds before Australia were right at the end of February in Barcelona, and now they’re across the world at a track that Suguru has never raced at before. He goes back to his own room in the morning, trailing his suitcase behind him, and finally picks up his paddock pass. 

Then the chaos begins. 

He hardly sees Gojo all weekend, because everyone wants a piece of him. He’s the youngest ever, new blood and old blood all at once, and a generational talent, as described by every commentator and sports journalist. 

So, they separate at the paddock gates on Thursday morning, and come back together to eat late in the night. 

“There were so many questions,” Satoru whines, throwing an arm over his face, “my head is spinning, I haven’t spoken that many different languages in years,” 

“I thought it was all English?” 

Satoru shakes his head, “they wanted me to do interviews in Italian, and someone told them I could speak French, even though my accent is fucking- it’s awful,” 

Suguru hums, taking a bite of his dinner, chewing. It’s a weird texture, but it’s on the meal plan he has set, so he has to eat it. He counts to five in his head before swallowing.

“Poor you, having to give interviews for Grade One,” he grins at him, and Satoru huffs. 

“We were outside all day, too. My eyes really hurt.” 

“We could turn the lights off in here,” Suguru says, but Satoru shakes his head. 

“You need to see to eat. I need to see to eat.” 

Suguru hums, and leans forward to where Satoru is sitting, and presses his palm over his eyes. “Better?” 

Satoru relaxes, “yeah, but I still can’t see.” 

Suguru picks up his friend’s fork and presses it against his lips, “you only have a few bites left, come on. Then we can turn off the lights.” 

Satoru laughs and accepts the mouthful. “What about you?” 

Smiling easy and wide, Suguru says, “it’s okay, I’ve finished,” 

His bowl is still half full, but Satoru doesn’t need to know that. He needs to lose weight anyway. 

 

—

 

Suguru still hasn’t met Toji Fushiguro. There hasn’t been time. But he’s heard the whispers: a dirty racer, a remarkably talented man, someone who left the Zenin dynasty and lived to tell the tale. 

He’s also heard that he fucking hates Satoru. 

 

—

 

On Friday, Suguru qualifies in fourth. On Saturday, in the Sprint, he lines up in eighth, courtesy of a reversed top twelve, and makes his way up the pack across the forty minutes to finish his first ever Grade Three race on the podium: third. His tyre management could use work, the mechanics say, but still. A performance that puts him head and shoulders above every other rookie, and above most of the experienced drivers, too. 

Satoru qualifies in third for his first ever Grade One race, one place and a hundredth faster than his teammate. The reporters go crazy about him, and he sits and gives an interview that Suguru laughs at because his friend is so blunt about everything. 

On Sunday, Satoru finishes his first ever Grade One race in seventh. Everyone says it’s respectable, except at one point, Satoru was running in fourth after the team swapped the cars, and in the last ten laps, dropped three places. It’s not like him: usually, the last laps are where Satoru makes up the most time, not where he drops it. 

To add insult to injury, Toji finishes in second, a much better result than everyone thought could be achieved with the car.

Suguru wins the feature race on Sunday. He wins his first ever feature race. And in Grade One, it’s a double podium for Keicho, so he’s invited to the team celebrations. 

He’s placed in the middle of the crowd for a group photo, and quickly looks at his phone to see Satoru has texted him. 

 

Gojo Satoru : congrats on the win

Gojo Satoru : u shld come out 2nite

Gojo Satoru : 2 celebrate 

 

When he feels a hand come down on his shoulder, he jumps and pockets his phone, turning himself to look. 

He’s not prepared to see Tsukumo Yuki, still in her race overalls, smiling down at him. Her long blonde hair is untied, spilling over her shoulders, and she looks sticky all over from the champagne. She won today. This is her celebration, her party. 

“You were incredible this weekend.” Yuki says, pearly white teeth bared in something that Suguru thinks resembles a smile but isn’t quite one. “Are you really a rookie?” 

He’s seen Yuki a few times in passing: at testing in Jerez, and Barcelona, and in Imola. But she’s always been too busy, getting ready to drive her Grade One car that everyone is saying she’s going to win a championship in, this season. She’s a talent, one that Keicho moved from Nara after only two years, believing in her skill and her potential. And she’s congratulating him. 

“Yes?” Is the first thing he says, then, “it’s just Grade Three,” 

Yuki smirks, pushing a hip out to the side, “winning a feature race in your first weekend of any series is something to be proud of, y’know.” 

Suguru frowns, saying thank you and just accepting the compliment. Yuki leans forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “So modest! We’ll definitely have to watch you,” 

You’re already watching me , Suguru wants to say. I’ll make you sit up and take notice. You think this is impressive? I’m just getting started. 

He doesn’t say anything, and sits down in front of the camera for the photos. 

 

—

 

Transcript: Interview with Suguru Getou, post-race, G3 Round One, Australia 2008

 

Q: Getou, congrats on the win! Talk us through it, you looked phenomenal out there. 

SUGURU GETOU : Ah, I just felt confident in the car. The pre-season testing helped a lot, and the team has been supportive. 

Q: You showed some incredibly impressive overtakes in both the sprint and feature race, against competitors with a lot more experience. How did you pull those off?

SG : I think I was later on the brakes, although we will have to look at data to confirm that. It is just racing. 

Q: Of course, you are fresh off the back of a win in GREC, and you’re now a development driver for Keicho, who just won the Grand Prix today with Tsukumo. Are you setting your sights on another series win in G3?

SG : It is too early to tell that, yet, but I always want to win. 

Q: And finally, since you two were friends in karting and throughout Grade Four, what did you think of Gojo’s race today? 

SG : I think seventh is good, although he won’t. We’ll talk about it later, probably, but it is unusual for him to lose so much time in the last few laps, as he usually manages quite well, but I am not his team, I have not seen the data. 

Q: You two were always nipping at each other’s heels, especially in karting. Do you think you’re capable of getting to Grade One and racing him again?

SG : Yes. 

 

—

 

June 2022, Canada

 

Since they’re on yet another double header, there’s not any time to go home in between Baku and Canada. In an effort to fight jetlag, the drivers pretty much all fly out on Monday morning straight to Montreal, where they immediately are given full, packed schedules. 

Which Gojo thinks defeats the point of trying to offset jetlag, but whatever. In the motorhomes, he and Megumi play a game of giant jenga where the bricks have questions on them, ranging from as harmless as what’s your favourite food to what’s your type of girl . Which is an objectively funny question to ask both of them, Gojo thinks.

Since he has never expressed interest in a girl, ever, and Megumi is head-over-heels in love with Yuuji. 

Still, he leans back against the sofa and twirls the block in his hands. “Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall, probably. Strong.” Then, with an evil grin: “what about you, Megs?” 

Megumi scowls, “I don’t care what she looks like, as long as she’s got a nice personality.” 

Gojo boos him, because it’s a cop-out answer, but he doesn’t push it. Not in front of the cameras, never in front of the cameras. 

It’s unspoken, in the team. Everyone knows Gojo is gay. They know that there’s other drivers who are queer, too, and Nanami’s marriage in particular is the worst kept secret on the grid. But: 

They race in countries where their existence is against the law. Nanami’s marriage isn’t legally recognised, for that reason. The higher-ups themselves would never ban a queer athlete from racing, but the risk of being out is far, far higher than the reward. 

So no one mentioned the fact that Gojo was leaving with a different guy on his arm every race weekend in his twenties, and no one mentions Nanami’s ring, and no one mentions the fact that Gojo has never publicly had a girlfriend in all his years in racing. 

This rule continues for the younger generations. It probably will for a long time. 

You have two options: retire, and be open, or race and hide one thing. Most drivers would hide that one thing. Most of them have hidden that one thing. 

Like they’ve hidden the drugs at the parties and the scandals the higher-ups wanted to cover, and their disappointment in their own teams, year on year. 

So they’ll play jenga with questions about their type of girl and pretend to be disinterested in commitment and hope it works. Really, hiding one thing is light work. It’s easy. 

Gojo pulls out the next block, and reads aloud. “Who is your best friend on the grid?” 

Megumi groans as Gojo smirks, “I could answer this one for you, I think.” 

Toto pants next to Megumi’s side. “Yuuji, and Nobara,” 

“It says best friend! You can only choose one!” Gojo grins, ever the shit stirrer, but Megumi is having none of it, turning the question on him. 

“So? Who’s yours?” 

“Utahime.” 

 

—

 

Haibara is in Canada. Gojo only finds out when he texts him, on Wednesday. 

 

HAIBARA ⍢ : dinner @ hotel? We’re staying in the same place :) !!

 

Me: sure

Me: am i payin

 

HAIBARA ⍢ : since u offered of course u can pay!!

 

Gojo snorts. Another text pings through. 

 

HAIBARA ⍢ : when are you back from the track

 

Me: soon , is nanamin coming

 

HAIBARA ⍢ : no, just us, hes on a rly strict meal plan

HAIBARA ⍢ : but i want company :(

HAIBARA ⍢ : and ik your meal plan is way less strict, u just have to stick to calories, right?

 

Me: yeah 

Me: see u soon??

 

Soon turns out to be two hours later, and they file into the restaurant together. Gojo gets Haibara a bottle of the nice Rosé he liked the last time they were here, and he nibbles at a couple of appetisers that Haibara orders whilst waiting for the main, which for him is only five hundred calories to stick within his daily allowance. 

He might steal half of Haibara’s dessert later, but that’s what friends are for. 

“Are you doing okay?” He tentatively asks, sipping at his soda-lime tonic, and Haibara grimaces. 

“Well, the flights were booked. I am on so many painkillers, right now, it’s a miracle I’m awake!” 

“Which ones? Should you be drinking?” 

Haibara shrugs, “morphine, mostly. Some others, but- I don’t pay much attention to the name on the bottle anymore. And I dunno, I don’t think I’m supposed to, but-” he shrugs, as if to say, whatever. “It’s only wine.”

“Ha.” Gojo says, “you working?” 

“No, I pulled out. So Yuki’s taking my place, I think,” 

Gojo groans, and Haibara quickly laughs, carrying on with a smile on his face, “I’m sorry, I know you guys hate her,” 

“She’s just a bit too good at her job,” Gojo sighs, “but I suppose it’ll be Keicho she’s after this weekend. Their results were a bit shocking in Baku,” 

“Getou said they changed something in between FP3 and quali, to try and give them extra in the corners, but it pushed them the other way.” Haibara shrugs like he’s not telling Gojo something probably illegal, but what would he do with that information anyway? “Major slip up, but it hasn’t gotten back to the press, yet.” 

“God, they’d crucify him,” Gojo hums, looking up and thanking the waiter as he puts their plates down, before returning to the conversation. “Yuki would go for blood.” 

“Yuki would not!” 

“Uh, she’s the most ruthless reporter,” Gojo chews with his mouth open, speaking, “have you seen some of the shit she’s asked me?” 

“Yeah, but it’s Getou,” Haibara says, like that explains anything. When Gojo stares at him, incredulous, he continues, “she has a soft spot for him. She’s always had a soft spot for him. 

Gojo wishes his ex-teammates had a soft spot for him. Would’ve solved a lot of his problems. “I dunno, I don’t see it.” 

“You’re blind, man,” Haibara grins. “Pay attention from now on, you’ll see it.” 

Gojo takes a bite of his meal, resolves himself to watch Yuki like a hawk, and swallows thickly. 

“So, are you getting dessert?” 

Haibara giggles, and takes a sip of wine. 

—

 

Notes:

tw: heavy implications of eating disorders, as well as discussions of calories and meal plans. discussion of unsafe drug use and prescriptions, chronic pain and motorsport accidents, and minor character death, discussions of homophobia in sport.

HEY OMG IM BACK! TOJI MENTION! WHO CHEERED! give me your theories right now.

the circuit in this chapter is the Baku City Circuit! hope u enjoyed and ill see u next time! comment for a kiss :)

Chapter 9: ix - telemetry

Summary:

A system that beams data related to the engine and chassis to computers in the pit garage so that engineers can monitor that car's behaviour.

Notes:

hey pookies. comment for a kiss. this is a bit longer (i think its just over 11k) so enjoy! the f3/g3 calendar is made up since it didnt exist in that format in 2008, so dont.. squint at it lol.

warnings in end notes. nothing is untagged.

April 2008, Italy

 

A quirk of the Grade Three calendar meant that whilst Satoru raced in Malaysia and Bahrain, Suguru got to go home, to Italy, and back to the headquarters for more testing. He watches Malaysia on Satoru’s big TV back in his house, and then, when he mentions it to a staff member, they say it’s silly and he can watch it in the headquarters, where the staff have all pulled out a projector and watch it like a film. 

Meanwhile, Satoru texts him complaining that his braces hurt under the helmet where they got tightened the week before. 

Yuki comes second in Malaysia and wins again in Bahrain. Gojo finishes sixth in Malaysia, and crashes out of Bahrain. 

Toji wins Malaysia, and comes fourth in Bahrain. The reporters talk a lot about how Satoru might not have been the right choice, how he could be moved back down to Grade Two, and how he seems to lack focus and stamina under pressure. Toji says he shouldn’t be competing with adults when he still wears braces. But Suguru knows that none of those things are true about him, so. 

The Grade Three calendar restarts at the end of April in Barcelona, a track where Suguru has done extensive testing. He’s excited for it, mostly. Also nervous, since the performance is expected here, rather than just hoped for. He knows the track inside out. He should, anyway. 

The week before they leave for Spain, a staff member pulls Suguru aside and beckons him into an office. “Well, sit, sit,” he says, Italian accent thick around the vowels, “we have something to discuss,” 

Suguru sits, hands underneath his thighs. The pressure gives a welcome distraction from the fact he still feels woozy from breakfast this morning. “Is everything okay?” 

The list of things that could be happening here flicks through his mind quickly: we’ve decided to let you go, we want you to pay for your own drive, we need you to find more sponsors. 

“Yes, of course,” the man frowns, “more than okay. Your results in the first race were, how do you say- sensational. To be frank, we want to try and get your development underway as soon as possible. You are a talent.” 

Suguru doesn’t know what to say to that. He flexes his hands under his chair. “Thanks.” 

“No problem. We want to put you in a testing role, for Grade One,” the man says, and Suguru really thinks that he should’ve remembered his name. 

“Will I be able to keep my seat?” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, and the man smiles at him, warm and welcoming. 

“Of course. We were discussing possibly moving you straight out of Grade Three to Grade One, but you’ll need your super licence, and with the way things are looking, the higher ups are likely to change the rules so that you’ll have to race in Grade Two to get enough points for your super licence anyway,” 

Suguru had seen the news about that: the drivers and the teams had made such a fuss about Gojo being allowed into the sport so young that they’d lobbied for a change in the rules to stop someone so young being allowed in again. Which Suguru found really fucking funny at the time, but it’s less funny now.

“Anyway,” the man clasps his hands, “it’s starting to look like Gojo was rushed anyway, and that is the last thing we would want to do with you. So we will be putting you in the Grade One car in the tests for the rest of the season, and possibly negotiating for you to drive a free practice session at a race sometime in the late season.” 

“Yes. That’s- that’ll be good,” 

The man smiles, “well, there’s just the small matter of training for it, you see. Currently we have you weighing about sixty-three kilos-” 

“I can drop the extra weight,” Suguru says, cutting him off, and the man baulks. 

“No, no, not dropping weight. Of course, the ideal weight for a driver in general is lower, but in Grade One, the average is sixty-five, and our car allows for sixty-five. We need you to put on weight, especially given how tall you are.” 

“But. I was told- by-” Suguru realises he didn’t remember the woman’s name, and then he feels unfathomably guilty. “When I picked up my race suits. I was told sixty.” 

The man’s face drops, “that would be unhealthy for you. Sure, you’re a teenager now, it’s probably just about manageable, but you need more muscle to drive a car that powerful. We expect you to be at least sixty-five kilos. It’s always better to be lighter, of course, but low BMI is more important.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yes, so, we are sending a new meal plan, and a new workout plan, focused on building you for the Grade One car. If you drop some time in Grade Three, that will be fine. We’re playing the long game.” 

Suguru breathes in, and then out, slowly, and smiles. “Okay.” 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race Press Conference, Top Three Finishers, G1 Spanish Grand Prix 2008 -  hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

 

Q: A warm welcome to our top three finishers of the 2008 Spanish Grand Prix, in third, we have Toji Fushiguro, in second, Choso Itadori, and collecting her third win of the season so far, Yuki Tsukumo. Starting with you, Yuki, talk us through the race. 

YUKI TSUKUMO : The car was just so good out there, today. Of course, the safety car in the late stages helped us out, since we had an extra set of softs, which a lot of our opponents did not, for the restart, which was crucial in helping me build the gap. 

Q: You won by over ten seconds today, and you seem to be in phenomenal form right now. Do you have your eyes already on the championship?

YT : It’s hard to tell, of course, but I will obviously be fighting for the championship. We are optimistic. 

Q: Okay, Toji, to you, then, second again, your third podium finish in a car which, at testing, was slated to not be as fast as the competition’s. What are you doing out there to extract maximum pace? 

TOJI FUSHIGURO : I drive, mostly. Put my foot on the throttle?

Q: You seem to be very far ahead of your teammate on pure pace, right now, though. Is that something that you’re focussed on?

TF : No. Gojo is in his rookie season, and he’s making rookie mistakes, right now. The comparison between us is frankly unfair. 

Q: Okay, Choso, your first podium this season, is it sweet?

CHOSO ITADORI : Of course. A shame that it comes so late, but I have been struggling with the car, recently, and been open about that. It’s nice that it is all starting to come together. 

Q: You were still quite far off Yuki’s pace today. Are you worried about the difference in delta times?

CI : No. I was managing an issue out there today, and I’m pleased with the podium result despite that. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (DAVID COOK - Motorsport News Daily): Question for all three of you, please, at the beginning of the season, we saw Satoru Gojo, the youngest ever driver for Grade One, join the grid. After four races, he has had two DNFs that seem to be driver error. Was the correct choice made in promoting him, and do you welcome changes in the super licence requirements?

YT : Uh. I was someone who was on Gojo’s side. He’s incredibly talented and his performances in Grade Three were extraordinary. But these late race crashes that seem to stem from very out-of-character stamina issues are going against him, right now. I think that maybe it should be compulsory to come through Grade Two before racing here. 

CI : I’m in agreement with Yuki. 

TF: I was against it from the start. He’s too young and inexperienced, and is proving dangerous. 

Q: As a follow-up, then, did any of you see his crash today? Thoughts on it?  

YT : I saw it in front of me. He lost control, no other way to describe it, unfortunately. 

TF : I only saw the car in the wall.

Q (SCARLET DIAZ - Grade One News): Question for Choso and Yuki, but Toji can answer if he wants, too. The Grade Three feature and sprint race this weekend was won by Suguru Getou, who now comfortably leads the standings and is fresh off a rookie championship win in the GREC. He, as of this year, is a Keicho development driver, and is being compared to Kenjaku, Sukuna, the likes. After his wins here, what’s your opinion on him? 

YT : He’s incredibly hard working and a monumental talent. Not everyone has the ability to adapt that quickly to different cars, and he’s doing an incredible job, I mean, the GREC car is famously difficult to master, and he’s done it in his rookie season. I have no doubt that in a few years he’ll be sitting alongside us as a Grade One driver, now that he has the financial support he needs. 

CI : I’ve only met him once, after his win in Australia. I would pretty much second everything that Yuki has said about him, and his passion for racing is incredible. He’s always in our garage, trying to learn more. I would also say he’s definitely a candidate for Grade One, and I would say also for contending for championships here. 

 

—

 

Me: Satoru are you okay? 

Me: Please call me when you get this. 

Me: That was so stupid. 

Me: Let me know when you’re out of the hospital please

 

Gojo Satoru: aw ur worried ab me ?? 

Gojo Satoru : im fine, a few bruised ribs but nothing bad

 

Me: Can I come visit you?

 

Gojo Satoru : yeh ofc when u coming

 

—

 

June 2022, Canada

 

Canada only has the grade ones racing. There’s no feeder series here, this weekend, but they rejoin them at Silverstone in July. That means that Gojo finally doesn’t have to see Getou with Mimiko and Nanako and wonder what the hell’s going on. Score!

It also means that Getou is much more present in the paddock than he has been in Monaco and Baku, because all his focus is on Yuuji and Yuuta. He has to be lasered in this week, more than others, Gojo knows, because the Sengokus are continuing their upward trajectory, and they were off the pace last week. In order to claw themselves back up the standings, they need a win, or, at the very least, a podium. 

Getou looks a little more tired when Gojo next sees him in the paddock, walking towards the garages. His sleeves are rolled to the elbow, with his lanyard attached to his hip. The way he walks with his hands flexing and unflexing- the same hands that he’s touched Gojo with, a million times over- it sets something off in him. 

He’s got six world championships. He’s got his best friend as a race engineer. He’s got someone who believed in him when no one else did as a team principal. But this one thing has slipped through his fingers, again and again, for over twenty years, since before he even knew what it was. This time, he wants it. He needs it. 

Even if he can’t have Suguru the way he wants- even if he can’t kiss him, even if he can’t press himself over-under-beside his body and feel his skin, he wants this. He wants a conversation. 

So he falls into step beside Getou, who immediately turns to look at him, “oh, Satoru. Are you okay?” 

“Just heading down for FP1,” he says, smiling. It’s light, easy like this. “You look tired.” 

“Double header will do that to you.” Getou laughs, looking straight ahead. The line of his jaw looks biteable. Gojo briefly contemplates his own sanity. 

“Is Yuuji okay? I haven’t seen him at all, not even with Megs,” 

“Ah.” Getou snorts, “I told him to maybe avoid Megumi a little bit.” 

“Why would you tell him that?” Gojo glowers at him. There’s a line, when it comes to the relationships of the younger drivers, and telling Yuuji to avoid Megumi definitely crosses it. He knows that when Getou left, he was a younger driver, but maybe he just needs a reminder- 

“Because of all of the speculation,” Getou says, then, and Gojo frowns, so Getou frowns back, “you didn’t know?” 

“I don’t look at any of that stuff,” shrugging, Gojo turns to look at Getou, who’s smiling. 

“I thought that was a lie you told the press to get out of difficult questions. You used to be obsessed with it,”

Gojo presses his lips together, “yeah, well, I changed, it got old, whatever. What do you mean, speculation?” 

“Oh,” Getou pulls his phone from his pocket, “it’s nothing too bad,” 

He hands Gojo his phone, where there’s a bunch of tweets, mostly adorned with the Monaco pictures, of Yuuji and Megumi. And yeah, they look incriminating, maybe, and the fans are in the comments and the captions saying they look like they’re in love with each other-

“These aren’t serious, though,” Gojo says, handing Getou’s phone back, “they’re just stupid fans, mostly.” 

Getou shrugs, “I know that. You know that. But it freaked him out, I think. He was stressing himself out about it, asking the PR people-” he chuckles, trailing off, “I think he hadn’t realised how obvious it was, his feelings, and I just told him- it’ll die down if you aren’t seen together.” 

“So, just whilst they’re in the paddock?” 

“Yeah.” Getou says, “that’s what I said. Just let it cool off a bit, but there’s not any need to, really. It’s just Yuuji figuring it out for the first time, I think.” 

“That’s- so he does feel that way about him?” Gojo feels a grin spreading across his face, because he knew it, and Megumi was wrong. 

Getou levels Gojo a look that just says obviously . “Well, I don’t think he’s figured out it’s a crush yet, but he’s very obvious. You didn’t know?” 

“Well. Obviously I knew, but now I know I can have some fun with it,” 

“No.” 

“What do you mean no? They’re head over heels for each other!” 

“They’re also both elite racing drivers,” Getou says, completely deadpan. “You think that’s gonna end well?” 

“You’re such a spoilsport,” Gojo says, “the power of love overcomes all-” 

“It doesn’t overcome you.” Getou grins, “And your meddling. Especially not during the season, when my driver is supposed to be fighting you for a championship. How do I know this isn’t an elaborate plan to distract him?” 

“I could beat Yuuji with my eyes closed.” Laughing, Gojo realises suddenly that this might be flirting. It might be. Getou’s eyes trail down to his hands, and then he does something completely insane. 

He reaches across with his hand, pulling his hands away from each other. “Stop doing that,” 

Gojo hadn’t even realised he was picking at his knuckles. It’s an old habit, from when he was a kid. He kicked it all through his teens, and then it got worse again in recent years. When he started being Gojo, greatest of all time. He’s got scars in varying stages of healing all over his hands from it, from white to red. 

Gojo lets his hands fall to his sides, and looks up to see Getou chewing the inside of his cheek. “It’s bad again. It hasn’t been that bad since we were in karts.” 

“I have the gloves on in the car, it doesn’t matter.” Gojo frowns, taken aback by the sudden wave of concern. Frowning, Getou opens his mouth to speak, then shakes his head. 

“It’s not about- nevermind. Anyway, I’m here.” Gojo looks up to the Keicho garage, draped in red, beside them. Which means he’s walked straight past his own garage and will have to turn around to go back to it. Embarrassing. 

“Right,” 

Getou smiles, all the lines near his eyes creasing beautifully. His hand comes up to pat Gojo between his shoulder blades, in the smooth dip of his back, and he feels his breath hitch and jump and his heart skip. “I’ll see you later. Don’t fuck with Yuuji, okay, he’s fragile-” 

Gojo does the only thing he can think of doing, which is stopping Getou from leaving by placing a hand on his shoulder, arm across his chest. Getou blinks and looks up at him. 

“Do you wanna get something to eat, later?” He says. And it’s dumb, it’s so fucking dumb, monumentally so, but Getou still softens. 

“Not tonight, this is a crunch week for us,” he replies, soft at the edges like he never was when they were racing. “Sunday?” 

“If we’re not celebrating,” Gojo grins: a promise. I’ll beat you .

“Well, let’s hope we’re both on the podium then,” Getou laughs, “I’ll see you around, Satoru,” 

And then he’s gone, into the garage, and Gojo is standing in the pitlane like an idiot. 

The worst thing is that he thinks it might be worth it. 

 

—

 

Tsumiki comes to Canada. Gojo hasn’t seen her since winter break, where he paid for a nice dinner for them both in Paris as a treat. He doesn’t see her as often, anymore, since they’re both so busy. She’s finally finishing university this year, and she says she’s thinking about a job somewhere on the grid, but she’s unsure. 

Gojo and Megumi both would rather die than see her overworked and exhausted like the rest of them, but she seems determined, and she’s definitely smart enough. Especially with her name and connections, she’ll get a job easily, if she wants it.

But Gojo loves her. And he loves when she comes to races, all dolled up in sundresses and looking happy. She looks relaxed, at home, when she’s here. Apparently, in her younger years, she’d karted too, before the funds for it started dwindling and Megumi got prioritised because he was a boy. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, not when Megumi has proven his talent and his pace and is in a Grade One team scoring points. 

When Gojo sees her, in the gap between FP1 and FP2, he runs to her immediately, scooping her up into a hug. She laughs, squeezing his shoulders, “okay, Gojo, put me down, my headphones are slipping!”

He does put her down, gently, and smiles at her. “You okay?” 

She shrugs, “same old, I mean, Annie is being a bitch again, but what’s new? I’m never gonna have to see her again, now!” She turns, looking over her shoulder to see Megumi climbing out of the car, “hang on, I’m gonna go annoy Megs,” 

Gojo watches as she strolls over, dragging Megumi down by his arm and proceeding to pick him up in her arms. Gojo hears his squeak through his helmet, indignant like a mouse being toyed with by a cat. Tsumiki beams as if she’s got the cream, and spins him round slightly before putting him back down on the floor, hands pressed to either side of his helmet. Kamo walks past, slapping Megumi on the back and then winks at Gojo as he walks past. “We’ll debrief in twenty, then,” 

Gojo smiles. Yeah, they can give them a bit of time.

 

—

 

May 2008, Monaco

 

The third race on their calendar is another month later, in late May, in Southern France. 

To say that Suguru feels intimidated is an understatement. Possibly the understatement of the century. Monaco is- well, it’s Monaco. Steeped in history, not all of it good. If he closes his eyes for too long, Suguru finds himself remembering Sukuna’s crash at turn one, the blood on the white of the Haein. 

He doesn’t drive for Haein anymore, though. And his car is already red. So if he had an accident, no one in the audience would know he was bleeding. Really, Sukuna’s death being here doesn’t matter. It could happen anywhere. 

Satoru is there, already, when the team arrives. He points out the boats in the harbour and says he wants to buy one, and that he wants to live here. “You don’t pay tax, did you know that?” 

Suguru didn’t. He’s barely got enough of a salary to eat, let alone think about being taxed. 

But Satoru gets whisked away by yet another team member for media, or a debrief, or whatever Satoru does nowadays when he races in a Grade One team. They’re in the same hotel this time, though, so. Small wins. 

Suguru walks around Monaco unmoored for a while - he has nothing to do - and ends up in the Keicho Grade One garage. Yuki immediately notices him and beckons him over, holding out a pair of headphones for him. Suguru is thrust into the chatter of the mechanics immediately, mostly in Italian. He looks up at Yuki. Their new star, their hometown girl. She’s tall, like him, objectively beautiful to look at. 

She’s about to be world champion. 

“Do you want to track walk with us?” Yuki says, then, popping an earphone behind and looking at him, eyebrow raised. 

Suguru mirrors her action, and then nods. “But I have to bring my engineer,” 

Yuki shrugs, “that’s fine. I’ll give you some tips.” 

It’s casual, and it might just be her being nice, but Suguru has seen what she’s saying about him in interviews, and apparently she had a hand in him being offered the Grade One testing role. So he smiles back, and says, “okay,” 

They walk the track as the sun sets. Yuki’s shoulder presses against his as they stroll around, and she smiles wide as she points out the best way to take the corners. 

There’s something electric about her. She’s seven years older than Suguru, twenty-five to his eighteen. She’s valuable to the team, their next champion, their golden girl. She’s wildly talented, and she won Grade Two four years ago, when she was twenty-two. Then she took a year out of racing entirely because of a lack of seats, and came back with a bang.

She won her first race in a Nara, in the wet. The Nara wasn’t capable of winning a race, and it still isn’t, but she managed it. 

And Yuki has done all of these things, and still talks to Suguru like an equal. Like a competitor. Despite not being in the same Grade. 

Suguru feels like he’s glowing from the inside, when she talks to him. 

 

—

Monaco brings engine failure for Fushiguro, first podium for record-breaking Gojo, and win for Itadori - MONACO G1 HIGHLIGHTS - Grade One News

Written by David Gunner - 26th May 2008

 

The sixth round of the Grade One Racing Championship has concluded in Monte-Carlo, which saw a first win of the season realised for Scuderia Keicho’s Choso Itadori, who is “beyond thrilled to win [at Monaco]” and a second place finish for teammate Yuki Tsukumo, who retains her lead in the overall standings. 

Disappointment came for Sengoku’s Toji Fushiguro, who qualified and subsequently ran in second for the first fifty laps, before being forced to retire with a power unit failure that left him unable to upshift. “We are majorly disappointed to be experiencing this issue now.” Fushiguro has said: “Of course, when you’re on track for a podium in Monaco and the car gives out, it is incredibly frustrating. We will rebuild stronger for next week, but the anger now is hard to manage.”

 His teammate, the eighteen year old rookie Satoru Gojo then made two overtaking manoeuvres in the final fifteen laps, moving himself from fifth to third and securing his first podium, making him the youngest ever driver to finish on a podium in Grade One. “It feels good, I liked racing here in Grade Three last year, and it’s one of my favourite tracks. I felt a lot better out here physically than I did the last few races, and I was able to show my real pace. I need to prove to everyone that my signing was the right decision.” 

When asked to comment on her lead in the drivers’ standings, Tsukumo said: “it’s early days. I am working closely with the team and our upgrades are looking good. We will give everything to win a championship this year.” 

 

—

 

Of course, it’s Satoru’s first podium. So Satoru grabs him, right off the ceremony, still wet with champagne, still grinning, and says, “we’re going out tonight, right?”

Suguru, who’s just won his own feature race, nods violently and allows himself to be dragged along. 

“Okay, I gotta do press, meet me at the hotel, we can get ready together,” 

Press takes a long time, post-race. It’s almost eight when Satoru finally gets back to the hotel room, groaning and whining and being really rather overdramatic about the whole thing. 

“My feet hurt!” 

Suguru pushes him to the door of the bathroom, pulling at his stupid merch shirt and clawing the cap from his white hair. “Go shower, you’re the one who wants to go out!” 

Satoru groans, but finally gets in the shower, and Suguru can hear the soft running of water from the other side of the door. Every now and again, Sartoru’s god awful shower singing will get loud enough that Suguru can hear it in the room. 

He comes out eventually, dripping water all over the floor in just his boxers, and Suguru has to tear his eyes away from the slope of his pale back, the ridges of his spine, his long legs. 

“I dunno what to wear.” 

“Your shirt, trousers, I dunno, just put something on so we can go,” 

“Ugh, you’re so pushy.” Satoru does fish out a button up, though, and shrugs it over his shoulders, so Suguru can look at him again. All he has to do is focus on his face and not his long legs. “Toji’s gonna be mad at me.” 

“Why would he be mad at you? The DNF was the team’s fault, right?” 

Gojo slips on a pair of jeans, black, skinny. “Yeah, but I did better than him. I would’ve almost caught him on raw pace today, and he’s been shit-talking me to the press ‘cause he thinks I’m an idiot kid, so this looks bad on him.” 

“Will he even be at the party?” 

“He never misses an opportunity to drink or do coke,” Satoru huffs, “and he’s got a kid at home. It's stupid. He’s stupid.” 

“He’s your teammate, he’s more experienced.” Suguru huffs, “shouldn’t you be looking to him for advice?” 

“I don’t need advice. He’s a prick. Come on, let’s go,” 

 

—

 

June 2022, Canada

 

On Friday night, Gojo takes Tsumiki out to dinner, just them. Megumi is on a much stricter meal plan, and he’s taking everything incredibly seriously, so he skips the temptation and goes to his room. Gojo can’t really have much from the menu, either, but he loves Tsumiki, and he loves treating her, so watching her eat and hum around a mouthful of the most expensive steak available is its own reward. 

She has wine, too, rosé, because it’s the only flavour she likes, and it definitely does not go with the steak, but she still smiles when she drinks it, crossing and uncrossing her legs delicately. 

“So. How’s he doing?” 

“Megumi?” Gojo frowns, sipping from his straw. “He’s doing well. His pace is good, he’s good on tyre deg for a rookie-” 

Tsumiki rolls her eyes, and kicks his shin under the table. “I don’t mean racing. I’ve been watching the races, I’ve been texting him, I know all about the pace and the tyres and the car. God, you two are the same- I meant-” she waves her hands in a vaguely disinterested motion as she chews. “Like. In general. How is he?” 

Unable to stop himself, Gojo lets a laugh bubble up his throat. “It’s hard to tell, but he’s okay. He deals with the jetlag better than me, that’s for sure. Nobara and Yuuji, they’re good for him, too.” 

“Yuuji’s the pink haired kid, right?” Tsumiki hums, swirling her wine glass. “He’s tight lipped about him.” 

“Yeah, Yuuji has the pink hair. He won’t talk to anyone about him, don’t worry. The closest I got to getting him to admit it was when we were cooped up on a private jet, so.” 

“No, I know he likes him- I mean. I’ve seen the Monaco pictures. I know what my little brother looks like when he’s in love with someone. I just- he won’t say anything.” 

“Does he ever?” 

“No.” Tsumiki laughs, bright and airy. “Speaking of pictures from Monaco- how’s Getou?” 

Gojo almost spits out his drink. In reality, he just chokes slightly. Tsumiki, ever the instigator, grins like a cat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Ha. And you talk shit about Megs not wanting to talk about his feelings.” 

“I’m talking about my feelings.” 

“No you’re not, you’re denying them. You are in love with him, right?” 

Gojo sighs. “Yeah.” 

“I knew that already, but-”

“Oh come on.” Gojo laughs, “everyone knows.” 

“I didn’t want to say it,” Tsumiki winces, “but it’s not exactly a well kept secret, is it? Although I suppose Getou never realised, so-” 

“I think he knew. Knows.” Gojo blurts, all at once. “I’m pretty sure I told him. In 2014, after he won the championship.” 

“You’re… pretty sure?” 

“I was pretty fucked up. Coke. A lot of vodka, some rum, you know. Championship parties are always-” Gojo waves his hand. “I don’t remember much. But he never bought it up, and then two weeks later, he was like- oh! I’m buying myself out of my contract! I hate racing! I’m retiring! So, y’know.” 

“You make me feel better about my love life,” Tsumiki laughs. Gojo huffs in return. 

“You can pay for your own meal, then.” 

There’s no heat behind it. Tsumiki laughs because she knows Gojo would never. 

After a moment, Gojo frowns. “You’ve been watching the races?” 

Tsumiki nods. 

“So, who do you think has the best chance of beating me?” 

“Right now?” She hums, tipping her head to the side, “well, the Sengoku guys are probably going to struggle with the midseason upgrades, since they’re a smaller team. So, not Nanamin, even though he’s driving well.” 

She pauses, ruminating, swirling her wine glass. “Yuuji would make a nice underdog story, wouldn’t he?” 

 

—

 

Qualifying is nothing short of insanity. This year, the track limits at turn two have been changed, and it catches almost every single driver out. 

Including Gojo. He has his final lap time deleted, which demotes him from pole to fourth, behind Nanami on pole, Yuuji in second who also had a time worthy of pole deleted, and Yuuta in third, who was the only driver to not receive a warning all session. Megumi also becomes a victim to track limits, ending up P7 on the grid, behind Inumaki’s Sengoku in P5, and Zenin’s Meiji in P6. 

It’s not their first time dealing with the press after clear driver mistakes, but it never really gets much easier. They poke and prod and smile: can you handle the pressure? Are you washed up? Is your mind slipping?

Yes, no, no. Rinse and Repeat. 

Megumi looks exhausted by the time they get back to the motorhome for debrief, and Gojo takes pity on him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders, “you’re doing fine, kid. You’ve never raced here before.” 

Megumi shrugs. “It’s not an excuse, though, is it? Yuuij’s in P2.” 

“Yuuji has a season’s more experience than you.” 

Megumi sighs deeply like he’s thinking that that isn’t an excuse either, but then Toto alerts beside them and the moment is broken. 

“I’ll go grab your kit, where is it?” 

Megumi is already leaning against the wall, lowering himself slowly. “In my drivers’ room.” 

Gojo goes. 

 

—

 

September 2008, Italy

 

The Italian Grand Prix is held in Monza, every year. It’s one of the classic tracks, the temple of speed, Keicho’s birthplace. It’s a home race for Gojo, his first one in Grade One. 

Monza is a homecoming. Monza is made for the drivers that wear red. Monza is Yuki’s to win, Yuki’s to lose, Choso’s, too. 

Monza is . 

Suguru wasn’t sure what to expect when they arrived wearing red. He’d heard Yuki talking about it, heard her crooning about what happens in Italy when you bring a race win home. In her case, she could bring the championship home, in Italy. Yuki had laughed when the press asked her about it, and said well, I’ll try. A good party in Italy - well, it would be the team’s dream. 

To secure the championship for certain in Monza, she has to win. And Choso, her closest competitor throughout the season, and the only driver mathematically able to challenge her, has to finish fourth or lower. 

In a pre-race press conference on Thursday afternoon, Yuki and Choso joke about it - Choso throwing the race just so they could have a blowout party on home soil. 

Of course, Choso doesn’t actually want to throw anything - he’s the current world champion, and he’s wearing red, and they all want glory in Italy. There’s a finite amount to go around, after all. 

On Friday, in the morning, Yuki and Choso go to both junior garages to be filmed looking around. Supporting the younger drivers, playing into the mentorship role. When the cameras are off, she turns to him and runs her fingertips through the ends of his hair. “You need a haircut, you’re struggling to get it under the balaclava.” 

“My dad cuts it,” Suguru says, without thinking. He doesn’t really want anyone else to do it. And he can’t go back home to Japan. “No one else has ever done it.” 

“You could always braid it, if you don’t want to cut it.” Yuki shrugs, “it’s almost as long as mine, and that’s what I do.” 

He searches up how to do it, back at the hotel. Satoru laughs at him about half an hour in, and asks, “are you trying to do French or Dutch?” 

Suguru doesn’t know. 

“Come here.” Satoru says, grinning, and pats the space in front of the bed. Suguru goes to him, sitting between his knees as Satoru puts his hands in his hair. “Is it for your helmet?” 

Suguru nods, and Satoru laughs. “So French, then,” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Dutch sticks out more, and it's easier to get tight, but French lays, like, flatter on your head. So. Good for being under the balaclava.” 

Suguru dips his head down as Satoru pushes at the nape of his neck, his fingers delicate. If he stays like this, maybe he can imagine being here in another context. Being Satoru’s wife, dedicated and sweet and without his own dreams and talents. 

Suguru has developed a new strategy for eating. In the back of his mind, he knows eating shouldn’t really need strategy: it’s just something you do. But he has to have a strategy, because most of his meal plan feels really horrible in his mouth, and he has to swallow it down no matter what. He puts it in his mouth, chews, and counts to five. The distraction helps. After five seconds, he swallows, no matter what the texture of the food is. Then he takes the next bite. 

At first it was just for the foods he really hated. Now the technique is universal: if he has something he likes to eat, he counts to five when chewing, too. He can savour for that short time, then he swallows and it’s over. 

As Satoru’s fingers card through his hair, Suguru counts to five, over and over, until his hair is done and he finds himself being pushed away. 

He’ll let himself have this as his heart beats out of his ribcage. He’ll let Satoru have this, he’ll let them both have this in the quiet of their room where no one can tell them not to. 

“Will this last ‘til the race?” He finds himself asking. 

Satoru shrugs, “probably not. I’ll just redo it in the morning.” 

Suguru swallows, thickly. “Okay.” 

 

—

 

Suguru keeps a list of wins from the weekend in his head: 

Satoru Gojo gets his first pole position. He climbs out of the car and screams, wild, because he’s out-qualified his teammate on raw pace for the fifth time in a row. Yuki pulls up beside him in P2, Choso in P3. Toji Fushiguro is in P5. 

In the sprint on the same day, Suguru climbs from twelfth to second. 

On Sunday, he wins the feature race. No one prepares him for it - winning in red at Monza. It’s electric. It’s incredible. And it’s not even the real thing. It’s a promise of what’s to come.

And later on, in the afternoon, he sees what is to come: craning his head up at the podium, towering above them. The team bumping shoulders with him, roaring their praise. The crowd behind them moves as one, screams as one, bleeds red as one. 

Yuki Tsukumo comes out, rises to the top step effortlessly, beside Satoru and Mei Mei. Her blonde hair has been undone, spilling over her shoulders, and the top of her race suit is undone at the collar. 

The anthems play. The flags wave. The trophies are raised. 

The crowd screams for Yuki, for Keicho, for the team. It screams for its Golden Girl, who has bought their championship home. 

It screams for Gojo, prodigal son, Italian dream, hometown boy, the next big thing. 

Yuki Tsukumo is officially champion of the world for the first time, in red, in Monza. Suguru looks up at her, where she’s spraying champagne on Satoru and her ex-teammate, and for the first time in his life, feels hunger. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race Press Conference, top three finishers, Italian Grand Prix 2008 - hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

 

Q: Welcome to our podium finishers from the 2008 Italian Grand Prix. In third, Mei Meiji, in second, for his highest ever finish in Grade One, Satoru Gojo, and in first, clinching her first ever world championship, Yuki Tsukumo! Yuki, what a drive out there. You’re a champion for Keicho, now, how does it feel?

YUKI TSUKUMO : It feels amazing. I feel amazing right now. I should really be thanking Mei Mei for the win, to be honest! [laughs] To win in Italy, it’s a dream come true. To do it for all the fans here, wearing red- that is what I drive for. And of course, the juniors have had such success all weekend, too- it really makes me feel so proud of the team. 

Q: What do you think gave you the edge on Gojo today? He really gave you a good fight out there. 

YT: If I’m being honest, probably the machinery. It’s no secret that our car this year is generally faster than the Sengoku, and Gojo drove incredibly well to keep himself in second place. 

Q: Okay, Gojo, we’ll come to you. Your highest ever finish in Grade One! Your rookie season started out a bit rough, but you’ve come back in a big way, now. How was it out there today?

SATORU GOJO : Good! Car was good, I felt fast, and I’m learning to deal with my stamina better, which is making the difference. 

Q: How will you build on this momentum going forward?

SG : Well, Singapore puts me on more of a level playing field, since it’s brand new for everyone. So I’d like to do well there. 

 

—

 

June 2022, Canada

 

Race day is nothing if not a routine. Gojo blasts music in his ears, ignores the national anthem, speaks in stilted Italian to reporters, warms up, and gets in the car. The car, which has a life of its own. But today, Gojo has to breathe into it and give it more, because he’s racing from fourth when he needs a win.

For the championship, he at the very least needs to get past Yuuta and Yuuji. Ideally, he needs to beat Nanami, too, because he’s racking up points fast, and the title fight is beginning to look like it could go four ways. 

Honestly! Gojo is envious of the audience, this year! They’re in for a real treat. 

After years of dominance from Keicho, a lack of a title fight, the audience is begging for something more. Some excitement. 

Getou never won a world championship driving for Keicho. He was always a number two driver, through no lack of ability in his own right. In his two years racing there, he was more than capable of challenging Yuki for a championship, with a fraction of her experience. Even in his rookie season, he finished just behind her, an incredible performance, that, still, to this day, holds the record for the most points in a rookie season. Above Sukuna, above Kenjaku.

He was so angry on his behalf at the time. Team orders, what a load of bullshit. But Getou had been good and loyal, and now, a decade later, maybe he will win with Keicho. 

Team principals have a bigger role than the drivers, anyway. And Getou cared about his role in everything an awful lot. 

“Radio check?” 

“Loud and clear, Gojo,” Shoko’s voice comes back to him, laced with determination. Today’s race is going to be hard. They know this. The cars in front are, as of now, pretty much equal with them on pace, and whilst Gojo would be thrilled to see Nanami get two wins in a row, it would mean the championship gap closing considerably. 

Gojo’s waited a long time for his seventh. He’s waited a long time to end the debate on him versus Sukuna, who’s the greatest, et cetera. If he holds the record, it’s not really an argument anymore. 

Now that there’s a battle, he can feel it closing in on him. The need to prove himself. If he isn’t- if he isn’t Gojo, greatest of all time, what is he? What has every sacrifice Satoru made been for? 

He’s kind of aware of how he’s hated in equal parts to how he’s loved. For every kid he signs a cap for, there’s someone calling him full of himself. For every reporter praising his pace, there’s another one saying it’s just the car . 

For every teammate like Nanami, there’s a teammate like Getou. 

He feels the engine thrum beneath him. They set out on the formation lap. They radio check again, just to be safe. He settles in fourth on the grid. On the second row. 

He starts on the right, slightly behind Yuuta, who’s on the left. Turns one and two are a chicance. He’s off the racing line: starting in odd numbers is an advantage, here, especially when the run to turn one is so short. 

He flexes his hands on the wheel. It would be dirty, but he could force Yuuta wide and switchback into turn two to try and get the inside line. Possibly make up a place there. If he gets stuck in a DRS train, his hopes of a podium will dwindle dramatically. Despite Nanami driving the Sengoku like a madman, the car itself definitely doesn’t have race pace on the Sengoku, and he won’t be able to pull a big enough gap to deprive Yuuji of DRS forever. 

Once Yuuji is out in front, he’ll be able to pull a bigger gap than Gojo is comfortable having to close. He wants to be in a position where he can put pressure on, and get DRS for the overtaking moves. Not way back stuck behind Yuuta and Nanami. 

The last car rolls up to the grid. The first light turns on. Gojo’s brain goes quiet. 

It’s all instinct from here on out. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - Canadian GP 2022

 

LAP 1:

 

IERI : Okay, Gojo, you’re P3, P3. Nice work. 

GOJO : Did Yuuta have a problem off the line?

IERI : That’s not our focus. Head down. 

 

INO : P1, let’s pull this gap now. 

KENTO : Copy. 

 

ITADORI : Is that Gojo behind me?

TODOU : Affirmative. You are P2, Gojo P3, Inumaki P4, Okkotsu P5. 

ITADORI : Copy. 

 

LAP 15 : 

 

KENTO : Losing power. Upshifts are difficult. Can we do anything?

INO : We are checking, nothing obvious on our end. 

KENTO : Update me on the gap to Itadori.

INO : Copy. It’s currently two-point-nine. 

 

TODOU : Kento ahead reporting issues, do you have any more pace?

ITADORI : Depends how much life you want me to save with these tyres, bro. 

TODOU : Another ten laps?

ITADORI : [Inaudible mumbling] Right, okay.

 

GOJO : What’s the gap ahead? Behind?

IERI : Car ahead is Itadori, two-point-one, car behind is Inumaki, one-point-five. If you have any pace, let’s use it now. 

GOJO : Copy. Where’s Megs?

IERI : P6. 

 

LAP 23:

 

KENTO : I’m still struggling. Brakes are feeling worse now too. 

INO : Box and pit confirm.

KENTO : Copy. 

 

TODOU : Kento is pitting, gap behind to Gojo is one-point-two. Let’s make use of this clean air and stretch the gap, yes?

ITADORI : Copy!

 

INUMAKI : Engine failing.

PANDA : Upshifts difficult? 

INUMAKI : Yes. 

PANDA : We are checking. 

 

LAP 24:  

 

GOJO : Tyres are gone. 

IERI : Copy. Box this lap. Outlap critical. 

 

LAP 25: 

 

KENTO : Brakes aren’t working the way I want them to. This feels dangerous. 

INO : Copy. Box and pit confirm, we will retire the car. 

 

TODOU : Box this lap. Box this lap. 

ITADORI : Copy! 

TODOU : You will come out P1, P1, Kento has retired. Outlap critical, Gojo will be close. 

ITADORI : Copy.

 

LAP 55:  

 

OKKOTSU : Does Inumaki have an issue? He’s slowing.

MIGUEL : Nothing reported, can you catch him?

OKKOTSU : Yes. 

 

FUSHIGURO : Inumaki’s going slow. 

KAMO : Copy, keep up the pace. 

 

INUMAKI : Smoke, smoke. 

PANDA : Pull over the car, please, it is not safe to drive back to the pits. 

 

IERI : Double yellow sector three, VSC in.

GOJO : Copy. 

IERI : We will have full safety car at the end of this lap, do you want to pit? 

GOJO : New soft?

IERI : Yes, we have a set. 

GOJO : Yes, let’s pit. 

IERI : Box and pit confirm. 

 

MIGUEL : Gojo is pitting ahead, do you want a set of scrubbed softs?

OKKOTSU : Yes. 

MIGUEL : Box this lap. 

 

KAMO : Box this lap, we will put new tyres on. 

FUSHIGURO : Copy. What position will I come out? 

KAMO : Still P4, both Gojo and Okkotsu have pitted. 

 

LAP 58: 

 

ITADORI : Am I the only one on old tyres? 

TODOU : Yes, Gojo behind on new soft, Okkotsu and Fushiguro behind him on old soft. 

ITADORI : [Inaudible shout] How the hell am I supposed to defend? Is it too late to pit?

TODOU : Yes, you would come out at the back. 

 

LAP 60: 

 

IERI : Safety car ending this lap. 

GOJO : Copy.

 

LAP 62: 

 

TODOU : Gap to Gojo behind point-five-

ITADORI : Don’t talk to me, man! Let me focus!

 

GOJO : He’s being slippery! What’s the gap behind? 

IERI : Point-eight, car behind is Okkotsu. You are pulling away from him, but we need to get past now. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 63: 

 

IERI : P1, Gojo, nice work.

GOJO : He didn’t make it easy, did he?

 

LAP 65: 

 

ITADORI : I’m slipping all over the place.

TODOU : Copy. 

ITADORI : Can Yuuta defend from Megumi behind me?

TODOU : Negative. We will swap the cars, Yuuta will go after Gojo. 

ITADORI : No, I’ll be a sitting duck! Megs is gonna get past me, he’s on new tyres too. 

TODOU : Let Yuuta past. 

ITADORI : We’ll speak after. 

 

LAP 68: 

 

KAMO : P3, nice overtake.

FUSHIGURO : He had, like no grip. 

KAMO : Copy. 

 

LAP 70:  

 

GOJO : P1 baby! 

IERI : Nicely done, you raced well. 

GOJO : Thanks for the strategy today, that safety car pit stop won me the race. 

YAGA : Incredible race today, kid. You drove so well out there, and fastest lap, too. 

GOJO: Need all the points, right?

 

MIGUEL : P2, P2. 

OKKOTSU : Thanks boys. Good race, I tried to get him but he was too fast. 

 

KAMO : P3, Megumi! Another podium! 

FUSHIGURO : Woohoo! Feels good! 

 

TODOU : Yuuji, that’s P4. 

ITADORI : I’m not saying anything over the radio. 

 

—

 

Gojo doesn’t really expect Megumi to be on the podium with him: He’d started P7, so really, the podium had seemed rather out of reach. And maybe it would have been, if it weren’t for a double DNF by Sengoku with reliability issues, and Zenin’s shit race pace, and what Gojo thinks was a fucked tyre strategy for Yuuji. 

Still, Yuki hands Megumi a microphone and coos over him, telling him the drive was impressive, that he was on the pace, that he did well. Megumi smiles, in the shy way he does, accepts the compliments, and passes the microphone to Yuuta. 

Gojo turns midway through Yuuta’s set of questions and sees Yuuji weaving through, pulling his helmet off, and still, despite everything, reaching out for Megumi, hands placed in each other’s, hands on shoulders, a short pat to the waist. 

And sure, it’s less than what they were doing in Monaco, but Yuuji’s just had a win pulled from him through no fault of his own, by shit strategy, by his own team, and he’s still here, smiling at Megumi and telling him the podium is amazing. 

Gojo can’t stare at them for too long, because then the microphone is pushed into his hands, and he’s facing Yuki and the crowds, and he’s waving to them, smiling, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. 

“Gojo, another great win here, and one that was definitely needed to pull the points gap from Kento, in particular, and somewhat Itadori, too. How was it out there?” 

“Ah, well,” Gojo hesitates, because he knows everyone is listening, and really, this win should have been Yuuji’s. But strategy is a part of winning, a part of racing, and he won’t apologise to anyone for it. “We had luck on our side today. The safety car came at the perfect time, and I had an extra set of softs from quali, so it really helped us, out there, today.” 

“Your team made the perfect strategy call out there today. Before the safety car, did you think you’d be able to catch Itadori?” 

If you read between the lines of Yuki’s questions, you’ll find a lot more than just the question she asked. Here, though, it’s relatively simple: do you think this win is truly yours? Do you think you were faster, truly, out there today? “It’s useless to speak in hypotheticals. I think yes, but we will never know, now.” 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race Interview with Yuuji Itadori, Canadian Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q : Hey Yuuji. We’re used to seeing you a lot more cheerful after a race.  

YUUJI ITADORI : [laughs] Ha, I’m used to feeling a bit more cheerful, too. 

Q : So, could you just talk us through the race? The pace out there looked good.

YI : Yeah, pace was good. Car felt amazing. In the first stint we were struggling with the dirty air from Nanami’s car, and once we got clean air, we could really push. 

Q : So, the safety car? Why were you not pitted when Gojo was? 

YI: Uh, I don’t know, to be honest. We’ll go over it in the debrief. I tried to defend, tried to hold position, but when you’ve got three cars behind you on new, or like, almost new softs, you can only defend for so long. 

Q: You sounded pretty angry on the radio. Is that something you’ll be discussing with the team, also? 

NANAMI KENTO: [passing through, walking behind] Bad luck, today, kid, you’ll get them next time. 

YI: [to Nanami] Yeah, thanks Nanamin. Uh, yeah, of course, we’ll discuss it. It’s gutting to be cheated out of a podium position. 

Q : Was the team not between a rock and a hard place, in terms of if you pitted, Gojo wouldn’t have, and held first position, and if you didn’t he would have? 

YI : I mean, yeah. I also didn’t have a set of new softs, but I did have a scrubbed set like Yuuta, so- I dunno. We’ll discuss it in the debrief. It’s a shame to miss out on a big points haul for the team, regardless of my own result. 

 

—

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND NINE - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	168
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	129
3	Yuuji ITADORI (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	124
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	110
5	Nanami KENTO (-1)	Sengoku	107
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	84
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	61
8	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	43
9	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	40
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	38

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND NINE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	278
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	253
3	Sengoku (=)	191
4	Meiji (=)	101
5	Haein (=)	51
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	40

 

—

 

September 2008, Singapore

 

Suguru isn’t racing at Singapore. It’s a brand new track, racing at night, a shiny new street circuit. 

He hadn’t really been expecting to go to Singapore, is the thing. The team had decided to fly all the juniors out, for experience, because the track had been handed a contract, and it was likely that they’d race there in the coming years. 

There was also the marketing aspect: Keicho had backed the circuit’s addition to the calendar rather extensively, so they were hoping to film quite a lot of promotional content there. And the juniors were a part of that machine. 

Yuki is a lot more scarce than she has been in previous weeks, but Suguru manages to follow them on their track walks, mostly being ignored but soaking up everything. 

His next Grade Three race isn’t until November, in Brazil, where all three Grade Racing seasons end. But after this, he’s flying home, to Japan, to spend time with his family, before he travels to Fuji Speedway for his first practice session in a Grade One car. His dad is going to be able to come and watch him drive for the first time in over a year. 

He has to stop himself from thinking about it, because if he thinks about it for too long, he vibrates out of his skin with excitement. His mom might even come, if he’s lucky. 

He told Yuki about it, and she’d grinned and ruffled his hair. 

 

—

 

Suguru has a Keicho garage pass for the weekend. He slips his headphones on, steps back, and pays attention to everything. The whir of the wheelguns, the hum of the computers, the Italian chatter of the engineers that he’s beginning to understand more and more, now. 

Satoru texts him his room number, like clockwork. They eat their meals together and giggle, and Suguru barely has to count to five at all to finish his meal. 

“I feel really good about this track,” Gojo says, through a mouthful of rice. He’s been filling out, lately, but he’s still kind of skinny. The perfect build for a racing driver. Suguru hasn’t been thinking about Satoru’s body at all, recently, though. He’s barely even been looking at it. 

“It’s gonna be tough, though, it’s super humid here.” Suguru replies. His meal is done. Satoru’s a slow eater compared to him: he talks and plays with his food and gets distracted. 

“I dunno. I’ve not had a headache all week, because everything’s at night, so. I know I kinda just have to get used to it, but it’s gonna be good to not have to deal with it for one week.” 

Satoru struggles, racing. Suguru has become used to watching Satoru clamber out of the car shaking, blinking hard. Satoru says it’s the light, but Sengoku say it's a stamina issue. Apparently Toji has made comments about Satoru making excuses for his poor performance in the later stages of the races, too, and Satoru has transitioned from a quiet respect and slight admiration for him at the beginning of the season to outright hatred of the man, now. 

“Are they giving you guys a different visor?” Suguru says, “they’re giving Yuki and Choso one.”

“You’re on first name basis?” Satoru raises his eyebrows, “uh, yeah. They’re giving us a darker one. Apparently the lights are gonna be brighter than daylight usually is, so.” 

Suguru frowns, pausing. “Are you jealous?” 

“Of who?” 

“Yuki. Choso. Of course I use their first names, we’re on the same team.” 

“Well, the Grade Ones don’t usually care that much about Grade Three drivers,” Satoru huffs, “and you’re all over Yuki in the garage, all the time-”

“I am not!” Suguru goes bright red, because he has suddenly worked out what Satoru is implying, and it’s ridiculous because she’s like, so much older than him, and she’s- “seriously! She gives me advice.” 

“Advice,” Satoru huffs, stuffing more rice into his mouth, and then attempting to speak with his mouth full but failing miserably. 

“Yeah?” 

“You could, like, come see me every once in a while, you know. You’re welcome in the Sengoku garage,” 

“Is that what this is about?” 

“You’re always over there. I barely see you apart from at the hotels.” 

“Satoru. I’m racing too, most of the time. I’m not just- I’m not just hanging around.” 

“I just want you to watch me. Like- I want you to see.” Satoru frowns, looking down at his bowl and swiping the leftover rice from side to side. Wracking his brain, Suguru can’t find an answer to what the hell that means. 

“I see you racing all the time, I watch the screens and the data and everything. We talk about it all the time.” 

Satoru huffs, “okay, yeah, I just think that Yuki’s in love with you.” 

The award for the most outrageous statement of the week goes to Gojo Satoru, apparently! “What? No she isn’t!” 

“She’s always mentioning you in interviews and shit! Oh he’s so fast, he’s gonna be in Grade One, blah blah blah,”

“That’s racing. That’s just racing. She’s twenty five!” 

“That’s only seven years older.” 

“Only?!” 

Satoru presses his lips together. “Just. If she tries anything.” 

“I’ve never even kissed anyone.” Suguru tries for a laugh. Satoru looks up at him through wet, angry eyes. They might be fighting right now, Suguru realises, because his friend can’t admit he’s jealous. “I promise I’m not- I’m not gonna get with Yuki.” 

There are plenty of girls his age that flirt with him at the race track. Fans that linger a bit too long, taking his picture, girls asking for his number. He’s turned them all down: he’s not interested. 

Gojo seems to forget that they’re fighting, then. “You’ve never kissed anyone?” His grin is wolfish. “We could totally get you with someone at the afterparty,” 

Suguru laughs, “nah, man,” 

“Come on, you’re nineteen, how have you not?” 

“Well, when you spend half your waking life in a car-” and in a country where you don’t speak the language- “it’s kinda difficult to find a girl to date.” 

“You don’t have to date them, Suguru. God, I should’ve known you were a romantic.” 

“Oh, come on. You’ve not kissed that many people.” 

Satoru scrunches his nose up, proud. “Yes I have,” 

“That woman from when you were in Grade Three doesn’t count!” 

“No, not her- like. Guys, at the parties. There’s no cameras. So. You can kinda do what you want.” 

“Guys?” 

“I told you. I don’t like girls.” Satoru’s eyes are searching his, waiting for a reaction. They’re sober, now. There’s not really any room for denial, anymore. 

Thinking about Satoru kissing some guy in a dark club sends his stomach swooping towards his feet. He’s the youngest person on the grid by a while. The closest driver to him in age is maybe Hanami, and they’re twenty-three. Satoru doesn’t like Hanami, at all, but the thought of him- of him with someone at least five years older than him-

“Is it like- engineers?” 

“Once.” Gojo says, biting the inside of his cheek. “He was good, but-” 

“I don’t wanna know-!” Suguru blurts, and Gojo laughs. “You can keep your engineers to yourself.” 

“Well, I can’t really do that, he’s probably got a wife, so-” 

“Shut up!” 

 

—

 

Gojo qualifies on pole, for the second race weekend in a row. He celebrates it like the week before, jumping from the car, pumping a fist, running to his engineers. Choso qualifies P2, Toji in P3, and Yuki in P4. But Yuki had been feeling ill all weekend, so. P4 was a pretty good result, all things considered. 

Then, race day. Twenty eight degrees celsius, sixty-one laps, and everyone holding their breaths as they try to predict what will happen. 

What does happen: a turn one, lap one incident between Fushiguro and Itadori gives them both significant damage, and they drop through the standings like flies. 

Yuki challenges for the lead on lap twenty. Satoru forces her wide, in a dirty but legal move, and then roars down the straights with a pace that nobody has seen from him all season. 

The lead swaps when they pit, because Keicho manages a successful undercut on Satoru. The whole garage cheers, and Suguru finds himself with his heart in his throat, choking on it. On the anticipation. 

In lap sixty, Gojo is brilliantly late on the brakes. He dives down the outside, going wheel to wheel with Yuki in a way that has the whole garage hiding their faces behind their hands. 

He takes the lead. On pure pace. In an inferior car. And maybe Yuki might be ill, but she’s still a world champion, and she’s not making it easy for him, and he’s fighting her. And winning. 

The chequered flag comes out, and Suguru’s feet move of their own accord. He takes his headphones off, and runs down the pitlane, where the Sengoku engineers are sprinting to climb the fence, holding the pitboards, feet sounding like an earthquake. 

When he comes to, and gets scolded by the PR team, Suguru will be embarrassed. But for now, he gets his arms through the metal wiring, and screams in unison with all of Sengoku as Satoru comes home in Singapore for his first ever win. 

He runs with the team to parc ferme. He sprints. He trips over his own feet. He gets to see the car pulling in, he sees Satoru climbing out, standing over the cockpit. Instead of his usual celebrations, he simply stands, flipping his visor up. He’s breathing hard, Suguru realises, when Satoru’s eyes find his in the crowd. He lifts a single finger up to the sky, and then, and only then, does he jump from the car and throw himself at the team. At Suguru, who grabs at his back and his helmet and tries to keep up, shouting that he’s proud of him. 

Yuki claps politely from beside him on the podium, and then dumps all of the champagne over his head. When Satoru clambers down from the podium, fists clutching at his own bottle, looking angelic, Suguru goes to him, hugs him, wraps a hand in his hair. 

There’s no one to see them here. 

 

—

 

June 2022, Canada

 

There’s a loose afterparty in Montreal, after the race. The Sengoku guys are there, probably to drink their sorrows away, along with most of the Keicho garage, and Jujutsu Tech, who are celebrating a double podium and an extended lead for Gojo in the drivers’ standings. It’s starting to look like a seventh title might be in reach for him now. 

There’s a hand on his back, gentle, when he stands at the bar. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is. “Satoru. Nice drive today.” 

“You fucked your driver over.” 

Getou sighs, “it wasn’t my strategy decision. I am as angry about it as he is.” 

Gojo frowns, then. “You don’t handle strategy?” 

“No. Believe it or not. But the strategist today seemed to forget that you had a new set of softs to spare.” Sighing deeply, Getou smiles, “but I don’t want to talk racing with you. I want to buy you a drink.” 

“I don’t drink. You know I don’t drink,” his skin burns where Getou has left his hand lingering near one of his belt loops. 

“A mocktail. Something sweet, you won today, you deserve it.” 

“Are you having wine?” 

“Ha, maybe, if you’ll stay with me. Nanami’s not out, and neither is Haibara.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“Deep tissue damage doesn’t go away, really, does it,” Getou sighs, “he’s okay. He’s supposed to be with the broadcasters at Silverstone, though, so hopefully he’ll feel better by then.” 

Gojo allows himself to zone out as Getou whistles to the bartender and orders their drinks. He pays without looking, now. What a difference all those years have made. 

The bartender turns away to make the drinks, and Getou sighs again. “But he seemed okay in the garage today,” 

“Haibara? He was with Keicho?” 

Getou hums. “I gave him one. Makes him less nervous, the closer he is to Nanami when he’s racing.” 

The bartender puts something down in front of him, and Gojo wrinkles his nose at Getou, who is now contentedly swirling his own wine. 

“What is it?” 

“Just try it.” 

Gojo does. It’s sweet, maybe raspberry flavoured if he thinks hard enough about it. It’s good. Getou just- picked something off the menu, and knew he’d like it, like he always used to. 

In the low light, he looks good. If it were anyone else, he’d sidle closer. Trace his collarbone, whisper in his ear under the pretence of it being loud as fuck in here. Maybe he’d get a hand across his hips. Maybe he’d press him against the bar and get his fingers on his neck, consequences be damned. 

But this is Getou. So he doesn’t do any of those things. 

He just stares at his drink, and thinks. “Who’re those girls. In grade two. I- I don’t remember their names.” 

Lie! Lies! But Getou doesn’t pick up on it. “Oh, Mimiko and Nanako?” 

Gojo nods, and Getou continues. His face is so warm, soft, when he speaks again. “They’re the daughters of one of my dad’s old friends. The karting track I used to practice at, when I was really little, was run by this guy who gave my dad a discount, because he liked seeing me drive. But the karting track had to be converted into houses to get him out of debt, and when I went home in 2014, and I went back to it for- nostalgia, I guess, he told me about his daughters. And I offered to take them karting a few times. They’re both wildly talented.” 

“And now?” 

“Now I fund them, personally. Keicho funds Mimiko, but I pay for Nanako’s seat.” 

“Huh.” 

“Like you did for Megumi, I’m assuming,” Getou smiles. And in that moment, Gojo might just be able to pretend that nothing has changed at all. 

“Would you dance with me?” 

“Maybe if I drank a whole bottle of this.” Getou laughs, clearly joking, gesturing at his glass of red. Gojo, in a dramatic fashion, throws himself half over the bar to get a bottle, and slams it down on the bar. 

“There you go.” 

Getou laughs. Gojo commits the sound to memory. 

 

—

 

They do dance, later. When it’s darker, and there’s less cameras. Gojo leans forward and undoes a few more of Getou’s buttons. He hopes it feels like this forever. 

 

—

 

Notes:

warnings: pretty explicit ed discussions, mentions of implied sex between gojo and older staff members, mentions of crashes and injuries. mentions of drug use, particularly the use of cocaine.

choso mention. yuki entering the plot. toji exisiting. what do we THINK!!!!!

the track(s) referenced are the Circuit de Gillies Villeuneve, Monza, which has been linked already in previous chapters, and the Marina Bay Circuit!

Chapter 10: x - apex

Summary:

The middle point of the inside line around a corner at which drivers aim their cars.

Notes:

new record: 10k in two days. lost the plot officially i think. warning in this chap for terminal illness discussions around a minor character, more explicit/spoilery warnings in end notes for those who need. did u guys know u can kudos even as a guest? seriously, it helps motivate me so much :)

CHECK OUT THIS FANART and THIS FANART by Atlas!! they have me giggling kicking my feet for real!

comment to feed my kids. i cant promise that ill update this quick again, because i work in hospitality and its xmas and this week is going to be hell, but every comment gives me life i love u guys

enjoy. if u wanna feel something, listen to mama's boy by dominic fike and twilight by boa whilst reading this chap (particularly getou's pov). :)

 

October 2008, Japan

 

Suguru’s dad meets them at the airport. He has no idea how he managed it, but Satoru has managed to convince his team to let him go back to Japan, too, and Suguru can’t say no to him. So here they are, and Satoru blushes lightly as his dad hugs him. Hugs them both. 

Suguru has to fight the urge to cry in the airport, because it’s been so long, and he’s missed him, and he never wants to leave again, but he has to. 

On the car ride back, dad tells him that his mom has been cooking, and neither Satoru nor Suguru are brave enough to say that they still need to stick to meal plans and workout schedules, and silently agree that one cheat meal won’t kill them. 

When they get through the door, Suguru’s mom hugs him, but not Satoru, and they sit down, and they eat, and they talk. The cars are a safe topic. His dad pushes him for more details on the parties, or the teammates, or the drama, but Satoru keeps his mouth shut and Suguru waters down the gory details. 

He talks a little about Yuki, about Choso. Even his mom is impressed that he’s somewhat friends with a world champion. Satoru scowls in his peripherals when she’s mentioned, but Suguru ignores it. 

They go to sleep in Suguru’s childhood bedroom, together, because their house doesn’t have a spare one. They wake up entangled in each other. Suguru stirs, counts to five, and then gets up. 

In the morning light, his dad cuts his hair, back to just shy of the nape of his neck. It will go under the balaclava without Satoru having to braid it, now. 

 

—

 

The Fuji Speedway is not somewhere either of them raced at in Grade Four. So for both of them, it’s new, and yet it isn’t. Because it’s Japan, it’s their home, it's where they grew up. 

In free practice, he isn’t driving a Keicho. Instead, he’ll be in a Nara: they prefer to put him in a car deemed slightly easier to drive, and probably cheaper to repair if he wrecks it, too, although no one wants to put the idea in his head. 

The whole weekend, he’ll only drive one free practice session: the first, on Friday morning. Then for the rest of the weekend, he’ll have a garage pass for Keicho, where he’ll be able to watch Yuki and Choso. 

He receives a new race suit for the test, and a new helmet, too. It makes him look like a real Nara team member, even though he’s not one, and his dad smiles big at him when he sees him in it. 

“You know, I’m so proud of you.” 

Suguru smiles back. 

When he climbs into the car, he breathes in and out, deep and reassuring to himself. He’ll be driving in the same session as Satoru, as Yuki, as Choso. They want him to be here, in a few years. 

He wants to be here. He wants to be in the garage as a driver, as the main event, not as a spectator or a ghost on the wall. 

The radio works, and he’s given the all clear to drive out. 

 

—

 

FREE PRACTICE ONE ROUND UP: Japanese Grand Prix 2008 / Grade One News

Written by Annie Russell, 10th October 2008

 

The Keicho of Yuki Tsukumo has topped the timesheet for free practice one at Fuji Speedway, followed closely by the Keicho of her teammate, Choso Itadori. The Keicho drivers seem completely back on form following an unlucky weekend in Singapore, where an early racing incident took Itadori out of the running. 

No yellow flags or red flags disrupted running throughout the session, meaning the times give a clear picture of what is to come for the rest of the weekend. Sengoku drivers Toji Fushiguro and Satoru Gojo rounded out the top four, with Edo’s Hanami behind them for a top five time. 

Perhaps the biggest surprise of the session, though, was rookie and current Grade Three leader Suguru Getou, who, in the Nara, outperformed current driver Mei Meiji on the timesheets. The Keicho Academy driver, who has broken the record for the most dominant Grade Three season in history, and looks set to move to Grade Two in 2009, showed promise in the Grade One car, far exceeding expectations for his first time driving in a session on a race weekend. 

 

—

 

July 2022, England

 

Silverstone is one of Gojo’s favourite tracks to drive. It’s one of the oldest on the entire calendar, used since 1950, a classic like Monaco or Barcelona, but that isn’t the reason Gojo likes it. 

No, the reason that Gojo likes it is because it is brilliantly, unapologetically, beautifully fast . The British have cute little names for their corners, like Luffield, and Woodcut, Copse, Maggots, Stowe and Chapel. It makes the whole thing seem slightly unassuming, but half of those corners are taken without a proper braking zone: you just go full out. Copse is taken at 300 kilometres per hour, and Maggots is even faster. When he drives it, Gojo can feel it all the way through his neck, his arms, his body. 

The adrenaline rush is unmatched. 

Plus. The crowds in Silverstone are brilliant. They’re rowdy and passionate and wear all the merch and shout over the barriers, and sure, that happens everywhere, but the overall feel is more electric, here. Not quite as good as Italy, but Italy is pretty unmatched. 

And to be fair, he isn’t British. Home races always have a different feeling. 

Getou and Keicho are staying in the same hotel as them again at Silverstone. Gojo finds out when they end up bumping into each other in the reception as Getou is collecting his keycard, and then the cars to take them from the hotel to the track arrive at similar times, which means they end up bumping shoulders and signing things side by side with Megumi and Yuuji and Yuuta. 

Getou and Gojo share three languages, now. When they met, it was just Japanese, but over the years, Getou has caught up, learnt English, and then Italian. Which means it’s easy to slip into another language, in this case, Italian, when they don’t want to be overheard by the younger drivers around them, or by the fans. 

“You okay?” 

Getou hums out a response, a bit slower to respond than he is in Japanese. Italian is his third language, after all. And sure, Gojo speaks five, but he’s been living in Italy his entire life, racing in Japan with Japanese parents, and been on the grid regularly where they speak English since he was a baby. His accents in French and Spanish are awful, and he doesn’t speak them well. Just enough that he can do interviews, every now and again. Getou sat down and learnt the languages in his teens, in his early twenties, and his accents in both are almost perfect. It’s impressive. 

“I don’t know why I’m signing so many things, I am not a driver,” Getou laughs, smiling at a girl who holds out a T-shirt.

“You’re still popular,” Gojo teases, bumping his hip up against his as they pass each other. He’s picking at his knuckles, and Getou swipes his hands away from each other in one smooth motion.

“I didn’t know I was ever popular,” 

“People liked you way more than me when we were racing together,” 

Getou raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t really believe him, and turns when they hear Yuuji squeal behind them. He’s been given something that’s hand-crocheted, and he’s turning it over in his hands, smiling bright and wide and showing it excitedly to Megumi. 

Megumi’s smiling too, but he’s looking straight at Yuuji, not at the gift. 

Gojo leans closer to Getou and smiles, “you’ve gotta let me get them together at the end of the season.” 

Getou sighs, and flicks him in the forehead. “No. Stop sabotaging my driver.” 

Gojo lets the PR handlers take them in different directions as they enter the paddock. Getou smiles, waves, and then turns to Yuuji, who shows him the knitted doll he got earlier. 

 

—

 

Shoko’s in the room next to him this week. They end up walking back together as she texts Utahime her room number. 

“Hey, are you- you’re friends with Getou again?” She mumbles, fumbling with her keycard in her hands, clipped with her access lanyard and her notebooks. Her and Getou used to be exactly the same, with organised notes and things. Gojo never really bothered. Just remembered things that were important. 

“I guess.” Gojo replies, in Japanese, unsure of where this conversation is going. “He bought me a drink after Canada.” 

“You don’t need your drinks buying for you, you’re a multi-millionaire.” 

“Yeah, but he offered.” 

“Have you talked?” Shoko stops fiddling with her notebooks and her passes, and looks up at him. 

“Well, yes, we were talking, kind of a requirement-” 

“No, Satoru-” she doesn’t use his first name often, at least, not like this- “have you talked. About why he left. About why you two haven’t talked for seven years, even though he’s been around the support paddocks and doing stuff with the karts,” 

There’s a beat of silence where Gojo swallows, and gets his nails underneath a scab on his left knuckle. It starts to bleed. Shoko tips her head back and sighs, a sad resigned thing that echoes in the space between them. “Christ.” 

“We don’t need to talk about it- it’s in the past, it’s fine.” 

“Yes you do, are you kidding? Gojo, you’re still in love with the guy. Seven- eight years, and you’re in love with him, still .” 

Shoko has never said it outright. Gojo was somewhat under the impression that this was one of the things they never said out loud, lest they spoke it into existence. Being in love with your teammate is a bad idea, a big deal, and dangerous for everyone involved. It’s easier to ignore it than it is to acknowledge it and deal with its consequences. 

But apparently almost a decade later they’re done ignoring it. 

“That’s- I’m not trying to get into- I’m not trying to get into a relationship with him. That would be a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, it would be fucking catastrophic. But you’d be fine. You know you’d be fine.” 

The implication is there, clear as day. You’d be fine. He wouldn’t be. It’s always been the same, throughout their friendship. If Satoru really wanted Suguru, he could have him, but it would end Suguru’s career, as a driver, as a team principal, as a whatever. 

“I do know, yeah. But- he’s.” 

Shoko stares at him, like she’s expecting an elaboration. Gojo takes a deep breath. “I can’t scare him away, again. If we talk about it- I’ll-” 

“So you’re gonna ignore it? Pretend like nothing happened?” 

“Yeah. If he wants to,” 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Shoko mutters something that sounds suspiciously like for fucks sake, and then: “we’re too old for this, Gojo. We can’t use racing as an excuse forever.”

Gojo swallows, and pulls his own keycard out of his pocket. “I’ll figure it out,” 

There’s a look passed between them, but for now, Shoko lets it go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” 

“Ciao!” 

 

—

 

December 2008, Japan

 

Suguru wins the Grade Three championship, securing back-to-back rookie titles. He does it with a bang, coming third in the final sprint in Brazil, and winning the last feature race of the season. It solidifies his record as the most dominant season of Grade Three of all time. It starts to sink in that he might actually be able to do this. 

The Sengoku in Grade One lacks pace compared to the Keicho and the Haein, so Satoru finishes his race in sixth, but everyone agrees it was kind of the best he could do with the machinery that week. 

Post-season testing takes a few weeks longer, but he has two weeks at the end of December where he has time to go home. 

In hindsight, he should’ve realised something was wrong when his mom picked him up from the airport. 

 

—

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru] 

 

Gojo Satoru: dude what’s up u called me lik 5 times

Gojo Satoru: u ok? ur in japan rn right?

 

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru]

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru]

 

Me: My dad’s sick

Me: Like, cancer sick

 

Gojo Satoru : fuck

Gojo Satoru : how long

 

Me: They diagnosed him two weeks ago. My dad was waiting til I got back to tell me because I had testing. 

Me: The doctors are saying his risk was higher cause of his job

 

Gojo Satoru : r u ok

Gojo Satoru : is he getting chemo

 

Me: He worked really long hours to keep me in karting

Me: Longer hours than he should’ve

 

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru] 

 

Gojo Satoru : pick up rn

Gojo Satoru : this isnt ur fault

 

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru]

[Missed Call from Gojo Satoru]

 

Gojo Satoru : wht hospital are u at

Gojo Satoru : suguru, pick up pls

 

—

 

The medical terms rattle in his head in the silence. Stage Four. Terminal. Not too long left. Exacerbated by repeated exposure to asbestos and silica dust, since it was in his lungs and his dad never touched a cigarette. 

He sits by the bed, hands shaking. Satoru is with him, hand over his, even though Suguru knows his schedule doesn’t allow him any time to come back to Japan. He’s here. 

He has to go back to Europe, soon, though, and he says goodbye at the doors and tells him that he’ll see him soon. 

Suguru’s G2 seat has been confirmed with Keicho Juniors in 2009. The season begins in Australia, in March, after the pre-season testing in Europe from January through to March. He’s trying to figure out how to get out of those tests, to be able to stay here, until he has to go to Australia. Maybe he can skip the season altogether, stay here with his dad. 

When his mom goes to get coffee, his dad smiles, tired but genuine, and says, “so, when are you going back?” 

“Back?” Suguru says. He distantly thinks he needs another haircut. “I- dad.” 

“I’ll be fine. Seriously, these doctors are being overdramatic, I’ll be home soon after this round.” 

“I can’t leave now.” 

“Suguru.” His dad levels him with a gaze. Suguru wants to cry. He wants to scream. How is any of this fucking fair? “If you don’t go, I won’t speak to you, you understand me?” 

Suguru tries again, “dad, I can- I can take a year off, I’ll-” 

“No, you won’t. I’ve watched you on the TV all year, I’ve read every article about you, and I saw you in that Grade One car. You are not taking a year off. You’re not wasting yourself because I’m ill.” 

“Driving can wait.” 

“No. It can’t. I want to see you race in Grade One, and if you take a year off, I never will.” 

Suguru doesn’t mention that the prognosis isn’t even long enough for his dad to see him drive in Grade Two when he whispers, through tears, “what about mom?” 

His dad smiles, “I’ll take care of her.” 

Objectively, that can’t be true. Objectively, he can’t do that anymore. Suguru has to step up. 

He hugs her goodbye in the airport a week later, on his scheduled flight back to Italy, and apologises profusely. She looks at him, tired, and says she understands. 

Suguru isn’t sure if she does. 

 

—

 

July 2022, England

 

Gojo hadn’t really been paying attention to who his press conferences were with, but he’s the last to show up and sees the other three already there: Yuuji, Nobara, and Miwa. 

Miwa’s a sweet girl, if not shy. She’s cited Gojo as an inspiration many times in interviews, and has a signed cap somewhere from him too. Gojo remembers meeting her as a grid kid, a few years ago: the shock of blue hair was something that he didn’t forget very quickly. 

Nobara and Yuuji are standing together, speaking in Japanese. Yuuji’s speech is more stilted than Nobara’s: he’s been away from Japan a long time, and for most of it, hasn’t had Japanese-speaking teammates. After all, the only reason Gojo’s retained his own Japanese is because of Getou and Shoko. 

He can’t quite make out what they’re saying to each other, and then someone is ushering them in, sitting them down all together on the sofa. Yuuji and Gojo sit in the middle, with Miwa on the edge next to Gojo, and Nobara next to Yuuji. Haibara is back this week, but Gojo doesn’t miss the way that he winces when he stands to greet them. 

Out of earshot of the microphones and the journalists, Gojo leans across to Haibara, “you doing okay?” 

He says it in Japanese to add an extra layer of protection for themselves. Haibara just smiles back, “yeah, you know what it’s like.” 

Gojo, in fact, doesn’t. But he nods and takes his seat, and Haibara sits again, the lines on his face relaxing slightly as he sits. He introduces them, as if everyone doesn’t know who they are already, and then moves through the standard questions at a leisurely pace: how are you feeling going into this weekend leading? Who do you think will be fastest here? What do you think about Keicho bringing an upgrade package here?

Then, they open up to the floor, and Gojo feels Yuuji tense next to him, because they both know what’s coming. 

“Question for Yuuji, please,” Yuuji leans forward, picking up the microphone, licking his lips. “Canada was potentially one that you would like to forget, with the chance to win taken away by an unlucky late safety car. Here is a track that you like, you won here in the lower grades, and you’re bringing an upgrade package. Do you think you could win here?” 

“Uh. It depends on the upgrades, of course, and how much time they give us, particularly on the Jujutsu, because they’re definitely going to be strong here, the track suits their car massively. But a podium is definitely on the cards, I think.” 

Then another: “question for Gojo, and Yuuji, too, maybe, given the reliability issues for Sengoku last week, Keicho and Jujutsu Tech have been given a reprieve in terms of the constructors’ championship, how will you capitalise on this to ensure you stay ahead?” 

Gojo leans back, glancing at Yuuji, who’s smiling too. “Win, probably,” he says, and the crowd around them laughs. When Yuuji answers, it’s less cocky, more childish. 

“Yeah, we’ll do our best to place as highly as possible. We’re hoping that our upgrades bring us above the Sengokus this weekend, and our fight is definitely going to be with Jujutsu and Gojo towards the end of the season.” 

“Question for Yuuji-” as the journalist speaks, Yuuji widens his eyes, as if to say another one? But picks up his mic regardless, “in Canada, we saw the most tension between you and the team yet, with the botched strategy call leading to a huge loss of points for you and a huge gain for your teammate.” 

Okay, get to the point, Gojo thinks, staring at the way Yuuji sets his jaw like he was expecting this, but is still angry to hear it. But the journalist continues, “how is the feeling within the team? Keicho has made clear you two have equal status and priority, despite Yuuta’s history with the team, but did Canada make you think maybe that wasn’t the case?” 

There’s dead silence. Yuuji raises his eyebrows. Beside him, Nobara’s jaw has dropped, like she can’t believe they’ve asked the question. Gojo almost can’t believe it either, but this is grade one and he’s been here a bit too long to not expect them to pull something like this. 

Yuuji smiles, “there’s no tension. We are given equal status, and of course, the team made a mistake last weekend, but if Yuuta’s position was swapped with mine, the same thing probably would’ve happened. It’s not a question of anyone being prioritised, if that’s what you’re implying. No, I wasn’t happy, but neither was Getou, and we’ve taken steps to ensure that our strategy is better moving forward, and that we’re more proactive rather than reactive.” 

He puts the microphone down, and Gojo covers his mouth to whisper to Yuuji, “nice PR answer,” 

“Shut up,” Yuuji hisses back.

 

—

 

They do talk about it more as they head back to the paddock, later, though, Yuuji explaining that he felt fucked over, and that despite Getou’s best efforts, the mood was obvious: they want Yuuta to win. 

“You gotta channel it, kid,” Gojo says, “all the frustration, everything. Put it into your driving. You’ve had a much unluckier season than Yuuta so far, and you’re only five points behind him in the standings.” 

“He’s got the number one on his car! You know how hard it is, to look at him and it and just-” he waves wildly, cutting up the air in front of them. 

Gojo laughs, “you should ask Getou that question,” 

Because the truth is, apart from his first two years, Gojo has never been a number two driver in grade one. He’s always been prioritised in some way, even in 2014. So he can’t really ever understand Yuuji. 

“You didn’t use the number one when you were teammates, though.” Yuuji looks puzzled, like he always does when he takes things a little too literally. 

“No, but it’s the same principle. Yuki used the number one, though,” 

“I always forget he raced with her,” Yuuji says, “like, I don’t forget, but she’s so- like- she’s too relaxed for me to think of her as a racer, you know?” 

“I think that’s what made her and Choso so great, in their run at Keicho.” Gojo says, “but it wouldn’t have worked for me. Or Getou. It’s more Yuuta’s vibe.” 

Yuuji pauses to consider that, and then breathes out, “I keep seeing people comparing me to Choso. I get asked, like, questions about it in conferences sometimes. I dunno if I’ll ever be like him.” 

“In what way?” Because Yuuji is already as good as his half-brother was, on pure pace. He’s even in the same team, because history repeats itself and the Itadori brothers are both wildly talented, despite being estranged. 

“He was so immune to pressure, and he just- he seemed like he just enjoyed it. In a really casual way. I don’t think I can be casual about it.” 

“Then don’t. You’re not him, and reporters want their comparisons because fans are idiots who can’t see drivers as individuals in their own right.” 

Yuuji snorts, pulling a hand through his hair. The pink is fading, now, to the blonde he bleached it to. “Right. Yeah.” 

Gojo pulls him into a one-armed hug, pulling him close, “come on, cheer up. You’ll get it this time.” 

 

—

 

February 2009, Italy

 

For the 2009 season, Keicho signs three new drivers to its development program. One is poached from Sengoku, a Grade Two driver, Utahime Iori. Suguru still has her number, from their junior days, so he texts her a congrats, can’t wait to work with you , as courtesy. She doesn’t reply, which is to be expected. He’s not sure that she liked him all that much, since he was so close to Satoru. But she’s not nasty, and honestly, Suguru doesn’t need to be best friends with a future teammate. 

The second driver is Haibara. When his announcement is dropped, Suguru calls him, shouting down the line with Satoru over his shoulder about why he didn’t tell them. Haibara giggled over the line and said he signed an NDA. 

The third is someone neither of them know. She’s young, only fourteen or fifteen, and fresh off of several Grade Four wins across the world, a young talent. They want to push her through to GREC early, give her a few years to hone her craft and adaptability, the article reads. But Suguru really doesn’t know anything about her, and neither does Satoru. 

The only thing they know is that her name is Amanai Riko. 

 

—

 

Suguru’s dad has stopped texting him himself. Most of the updates on how he’s doing, often for weeks at a time, come from his mom, who seems to not really want to talk to him all that much. He isn’t sure if she blames him for leaving, but he had to. He had to. 

He’s not supposed to be checking his phone right now, waiting in the lobby for the last few juniors to arrive, but he’s still turning it over in between his fingers, waiting for a message to pop through. His mum hasn’t messaged for two days, and he’s tried calling, but it keeps going to voicemail. 

He thinks the others must think he’s crazy. He’s barely said a full sentence to anyone since he arrived, brain much too caught up in Japan to think about speaking in English or in Italian. 

He’s checking the screen again when he hears footsteps behind him, and a familiar voice. “You’re early, Getou,”

Haibara grins at him, all decked out in the new Keicho merch. He’s even got a cap on, pulled down over his hair, bright-eyed, brilliant. Suguru feels a wave of pride, because even though he’s only a year younger, he still feels like a little brother, and pounces on him, wrapping him in a one-armed hug. 

“You’ve grown!” Haibara squeaks, “you’re so tall,” 

“Yeah, and it’s shit for racing. You ready for today?” 

Today consists of fucking about in karts, asking each other dumb questions, being filmed out on the track doing some testing that isn’t really proper testing. At some point, the Grade Ones will join them to film, too. Yuki and Choso are coming. Suguru’s getting another new helmet, another new race suit, with all the sponsors, updated for 2009. Haibara will, too, for his transition to Grade Three. 

“Yeah!” Haibara says, pumping a fist. “I’ve been so excited about this I can’t sleep, you know?” 

Utahime arrives next, strolling down the aisle of HQ with a coffee in one hand and her phone and access passes in the other. Her hair is still tied in loose bunches, and she smiles when she looks up, which is a surprise, “oh, hi Getou, Haibara. I thought I’d be the first one here. Where’s the handler?” 

She’s so casual, is the thing. Her cheeks are rosy from the transition to the warm inside from the cold outside, and her hair is darker than when he last saw her, and she’s just- different. 

She’s wearing makeup, for one. Which he’s never seen her do, to his knowledge. 

“I dunno where the handler is, they just told us to meet in the lobby.” Haibara grins, “I just got here. We should be asking you that, Mr. Keicho Golden Boy,” 

Suguru frowns, starting to say, “I’m not-” before another girl bounds in, looking at everything with starry eyes. A woman in Keicho team gear is walking behind her, holding what looks to be a pretty bulky diary, smiling softly. The young girl looks across to them, and then gasps. 

“Oh, hi! I’m Riko, it’s nice to meet you.” She sticks out a hand, enthusiastic, and whilst Utahime reaches forward to grab it, Suguru takes Riko in. 

She’s small, is the first thing. Which yeah, of course, the kid’s only fifteen, of course she’s going to be small, but she’s tiny. Five-five, at best, which makes her an ideal fit for the car. She’s skinny, too, with dark hair that’s braided with a white headband holding most of her fringe back. 

She shakes Haibara’s hand next, and then moves on to Suguru, who she looks up at with stars in her eyes. “Your season was amazing,” she says, “like, so good. Everyone kept saying you were gonna burn out, that it was a fluke, but you proved them wrong, it was so cool.” 

Haibara holds a laugh behind his hand. Probably because he knows Suguru well, and the hero-worship is disconcerting. Suguru certainly finds it disconcerting. He’s just someone that drives kind of fast. He’s not even in Grade One, yet. 

“Thanks,” he says, rather dumbly, and the woman behind them coughs. “Okay, so, that should be everyone? I’m Misato, I’m leading today, so if you could all follow me-” 

 

—

 

It turns out Riko is a little menace in a kart. She deliberately drives into Haibara, spinning them both as they laugh. She tries to lean out of the kart to push at Suguru, too, but he pushes her back and they kind of hold onto each other through the corner because of it. The camera people praise her, say it shows her personality . Whatever that means. 

When they get out, to have a break, Yuki is there, clapping on the sidelines. She gravitates straight towards Suguru, and ruffles his hair as soon as he pulls the helmet off. “It’s getting long again,” she says, “I thought you went home? Did your dad not cut it?” 

He forgot he told her that. But in the new light, it’s painful. The only person who really knows is Satoru. He’s not even told the team. What would he say? My dad is dying, can you cut me some slack in the car ? Yeah, that’ll go over well. 

“My dad was sick,” he swallows around the words, hoping that they’re believable. Yuki frowns, but doesn’t push at the wound in front of the filming crew or the other juniors, and he’s grateful for it. 

One of the cameramen shouts, “Yuki, can you do that again, for a candid?” 

Yuki responds by reaching her hand into Suguru’s hair and ruffling it so hard he shakes from side to side. He grumbles about it slightly, but then Haibara is next to them, looking up at Choso and Yuki with a grin on his face, asking questions about the car, and then Riko barrels into all of them, shoving Suguru to the side with a grin on her face. “Is it true they were gonna put Getou in a Grade One car until Gojo changed the rules?” 

Suguru shoves at her, a grin on his face, “it absolutely was not.” 

Yuki smiles at them, offers a sly grin to Choso, who shrugs, and then leans forward to whisper in rather dramatic fashion to Riko, “they wanted to put him in Keicho this season to replace me.” 

And it’s obviously a lie, but everyone laughs at it anyway. 

They test the GREC car and the Grade Three car together, meaning that Haibara and Riko get to drive first. Someone sets up a camera to film Suguru, Utahime, Choso and Yuki watching. There’s not a microphone close enough to pick up on their speech, though, so they can talk about whatever they want, really. 

“The little girl’s sweet,” Yuki says, “she’s racing in Grade European?”

Utahime hums in response. She’s still sipping at the last dregs of her coffee. “Yeah, she had a good Grade Four run. Won in Japan and then England, did a few races in France. She comes from old money,” 

Suguru knows that tone. The barely concealed jealousy. Utahime isn’t strapped for cash, exactly, either, but she’s not exactly loaded. She’s had to take on sponsors. 

Yuki raises an eyebrow. “Still. Talented.” 

Utahime rubs her eye in a way that won’t mess up her mascara. Yuki folds her arms across her chest. “How’re you two finding the Grade Two car?” 

“Fine.” Responding for him, Utahime leans against the railings behind them. “The new testing rules suck, we’ve had less time this season.” 

Yuki laughs. “It’s just a knee jerk reaction from the higher-ups. They’ll probably bring it back in a few years when the financial crisis is over,” 

Shrugging his shoulders, Choso chips in, “it’ll probably even out some stuff between the big and the small teams, though, it might end up being a good thing.” 

Yuki’s face is open and bright as she agrees, “it might be interesting! What about you, Getou? How was the car?” 

The car was incredible. Much more powerful than the Grade Three car, with more oversteer, and Suguru has been enjoying pushing it, trying to find the limit. He’s not quite there, yet, but he will get there before the beginning of the season, hopefully. He’s already in the top ten on the timesheets, but he’s used to being in the top three, or at least the top five. He has work to do, still. “It’s good. A bigger step than GREC to G3, definitely.” 

“Just wait for the step up to Grade One,” Yuki laughs, like it’s a certainty. Suguru wants to believe it is, but he could completely flop in the season, dropped from the development program like old news. 

“Sure,” he says, instead. “The car feels fast, anyway. As fast as it can be, when all the engines are equal.”

Choso turns to Suguru, then, a smile tugging on his lips in a relaxed, lazy way. “Are you worried about the transition?” 

Suguru shakes his head. No. He isn’t. 

 

—

 

Yuki hangs about until the end of the day, when the sun is beginning to set and dusk is setting in. Choso went when his filming was finished, but Yuki is still here, leaning over her expensive, custom car that reflects red light onto her skin. 

“D’you fancy dinner?” She says, “my treat. Bring whoever.” 

It’s an offer extended to him, first, but Riko, who’s standing near Misato behind them, makes puppy dog eyes up at Suguru, too, so he sighs, and says, “okay, sure.” 

They all end up piling into Suguru’s car, since Yuki’s is incredibly impractical and only has two seats. Haibara and Riko fight over who will be shotgun, and Suguru, after checking his phone for messages from his mum - there’s still nothing new - he sends a quick text to Satoru.

 

Me: Yuki’s offered to take a few of us out to dinner, wanna come?

 

Gojo Satoru : yuki? ew

Gojo Satoru : whos coming

 

Me: Haibara and the new Keicho junior, her name’s Riko

 

Gojo Satoru : where r u eating

 

Me: Don’t come if you’re gonna be rude to her

Me: The new place down near headquarters

 

Gojo Satoru : ill come ofc ill even play nice with ur gf ;(

Gojo Satoru : u gna b ok in ther tho

Gojo Satoru : lik with ur meal plans n stuff cause uve been rly strict w it recently

 

Me: Yeah Satoru I’ll be fine

Me: Please do not call her my girlfriend in front of her, I’ll die

 

Gojo Satoru : ok ok ill meet u there

 

Haibara leans over the driver’s seat from behind (he lost the battle for shotgun with Riko) and pokes at Suguru’s arm. “You’re inviting Gojo?” 

Riko’s eyes go comically wide, and her jaw drops open. “ Satoru Gojo? Like, the Grade One driver? What?” 

Haibara gets this sly look in his eyes as if he didn’t have the exact same reaction when they were in Grade Four. “Yeah, he lives with him.” 

“You live with him? You’re friends with him?” 

“I probably won’t live with him soon.” Suguru says, turning the key in the ignition and pocketing his phone, “he wants to move to Monaco.” 

“Is he going to move this year?” Haibara says, settling back against the seat, not bothering to put his seatbelt on. They’re only driving for ten minutes, probably. 

“I don’t think his salary’s high enough yet. He’s only on two hundred and sixty thousand a year for the initial term, and you need like five hundred to claim residency in Monaco,” 

“Oh, does he not get podium bonuses, win bonuses?” 

Suguru flexes his fingers as he makes a left turn. “Yeah, I think so,” 

Beside them, Riko’s eyes almost boggle out of her head. “Only two hundred and sixty grand?” 

“Fushiguro earns like, fifteen mil,” Haibara laughs, and Riko squeaks rather pathetically. 

When they pull up to the restaurant, Satoru is already there, pulling himself out of his car that he finally got a licence to drive on the road. It’s an objectively gorgeous thing, glinting in the low light, a deep purple with a private number plate that reads G0J0 37 . 

Then, out of the other side, Suguru sees Shoko. She tucks her hair behind her ear, and immediately Haibara squeaks behind him, and they both scramble out of the car to get to her. Her laugh is loud and bright when Suguru reaches her, pulling her into a hug. 

“I thought your flight didn’t get in ‘til tomorrow,” he says, ignoring Satoru’s pained cries at being ignored. 

“It was supposed to be a surprise when you got home,” Shoko says, smiling into Suguru’s shoulder. She smells like jasmine, like petrichor. He’s missed her. 

Suguru can feel Satoru grinning into his hair when he comes behind them to join the hug. “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I just thought you could use a pick-up, you’ve been down.” 

They break apart when Yuki coughs behind them, “so, table for- six?” 

“Sorry, uh, you know Satoru, obviously, but this is Shoko, she’s our friend from karting and G4.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yuki says, even as Gojo barely disguises a glower sent in her direction. Suguru elbows him as they walk into the restaurant. 

“Stop it.” 

“I’m not doing anything,” 

“Yes you are,” 

“She doesn’t like me!” 

“She has like, no opinion on you,” 

“She said I shouldn’t be in Grade One!”

“That was when you were DNFing every other race and before all the stuff you did outperforming Toji. Grow up, and maybe just have a conversation with her, or like, any of the other drivers on the grid.” 

“I don’t need to have a conversation with them to know they’re jealous of me.” 

“Yuki? As in, world champion Yuki Tsukumo jealous of you?” Satoru shrinks slightly, frowning. “Satoru, come on. She’s nice.” 

Satoru presses his lips together in response, “can I sit next to you?” 

“Yeah,” 

It turns out that Riko and Satoru get on like a house on fire. She immediately sits next to him and instead of being starstruck, starts quizzing him on aerodynamics. His eyes light up, and Gojo immediately launches into an explanation of last year’s car, the oversteer, the front end and the sensitivity. Shoko laughs, “you’d think he was the engineering student at this table,” 

Yuki smiles, glancing between where Riko and Satoru are completely absorbed in their conversation, her eyes calculating and soft at the same time, and Shoko. “Maybe.” 

Just as the waitress brings out their drinks, Suguru feels his phone start to buzz in his pocket, and excuses himself to the hallway. 

The texts are from his mom. 

 

Mom : Your dad’s gone into hospital again tonight with an acute episode. 

Mom : Please call me when you get this. 

 

He immediately calls, listening to it ring. It feels frantic. His mum doesn’t pick up, and he wonders why when she just texted him. Surely her phone is still in her hand, hot to the touch. 

He rings a third time. A fourth. A fifth. He loses count by the time he feels a hand on his shoulder, soft and gentle. Far too gentle to be Satoru. He sees Shoko looking down at him. 

“Suguru, they’re ordering food, what’d you want?” 

Suguru can’t breathe. He can’t speak. His phone shakes in his hand, and Shoko’s eyes widen when she sees the texts from his mom. 

“Suguru, oh my god, are you okay?” 

Shoko lowers herself to the floor to be with him, taking out her phone as she wraps an arm around Suguru’s shoulders. 

Satoru comes out a moment later, murmuring something to Shoko and then picking up Suguru off the floor. “Come on, let’s go home.” 

When they get there, Satoru wraps himself around him like a monkey in his bed, and for the first time in a while, Suguru allows himself to cry into the creases of

Satoru's skin. "What'd Yuki say about us leaving?"

"Fuck Yuki," Satoru says, and for once, Suguru finds his disdain for her a little funny.

 

—

 

July 2022, England

 

On Saturday, the skies are clear, sun blazing down on the tarmac from above. The Keicho’s upgrades have given them an edge in free practice, where neither Yuuji or Yuuta have slipped out of the top three the entire three sessions. 

The last practice before qualifying is the worst, because Gojo spins on his final flying lap, meaning he’s over eight tenths down on Yuuji going into qualifying. It doesn’t really mean anything, but it’s still frustrating. He throws his gloves out of the cockpit as he climbs out and stalks to his driver’s room after, and he knows the cameras catch it, but he can’t bring himself to care about it all that much. 

Nanami and Inumaki are still in the top six, but this week, they’re much more best of the rest than genuine challengers based on the times. Which, Shoko points out in debrief, is a relief, because fighting on one front is much, much easier than fighting on two. 

The other notable thing that begins to become clear is that Yuuji is consistently faster than his teammate all weekend. In the first practice session, it’s only a tenth, but by the third, Yuuji has pulled a gap of four tenths to his teammate, which the reporters are frothing at the mouth about. 

When he’s asked about the rivalry in Keicho and how it helps his chances for a third time, he texts Getou about it. 

 

Me: i think u need to nom a 1st n 2nd driver bc the journos r going insane over yuuji and yuuta

Me: they might die if they dont get an answr soon

 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3 : Ha! Well, if Yuuji keeps driving like he is they’ll have their answer

 

Me: tell him not to drive that fast, i wanna win this weekend

 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3 : Just be faster, I thought you were the Greatest Of All Time?

 

Me: thts still up 4 debate

 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3 : Wonder why that is?

 

Me: fuck u

 

Getou leaves him on read, probably because he’s busy doing team principal things and shouldn’t be texting his ex teammate slash best friend slash whatever the hell they are. 

 

—

 

Gojo’s heart hammers in his chest. Shoko’s in his ear, saying “full push, full push,” 

He hurtles down the straight to turns one and two, both full speed, taken in eighth gear at three hundred kilometres per hour. Turn three is the first braking zone, and he leaves it late, shifting down to third to navigate three tight, low speed corners. Then, out of turn five, he presses his foot flat to the throttle, pushing down the straight to the end of the first sector. His rear wing flicks open at his command, at the push of a button, and the speed boost is deafening.  

As instructed, Shoko updates him on the pace, “Twenty-seven-nine, purple,” 

The second major braking zone comes into turns six and seven, through luffield, and shifts down to third through turn seven. Then there’s turn eight, taken with his foot on the accelerator, picking up to three hundred and fifteen kilometres per hour down to copse: turn nine. 

He lifts off the throttle slightly, but doesn’t brake. Downshifts from eighth to seventh to control the speed, and flings the car through. Turn ten is even faster, taken in eighth gear at near enough full speed. 

He slows through turns twelve and thirteen: no major braking zone, but he downshifts to sixth to execute it, then he’s pushing to the end of sector two. 

“Thirty-five-two, you’re two tenths down.” 

Gojo swears under his breath, but his focus doesn’t slip. He floors it down the straight, hitting the braking zone at stowe, where the corner is still high-speed enough that he feels it right through his neck. Turns sixteen and seventeen are much slower, and before Gojo knows it, he’s through the higher speed corner at club, and screaming towards the chequered flag. 

“You’re gonna be annoyed at this one,” Shoko says, over the radio, “cause it’s only by one hundredth of a second,” and Gojo knows he’s lost out. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Qualifying Press Conference, top three, British Grand Prix 2022 - hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Hello, and welcome to our top three qualifiers! In third, Yuuta Okkotsu, in second, Satoru Gojo, and on pole, Yuuji Itadori! Yuuji, that was a phenomenal lap. Talk us though it. 

YUUJI ITADORI : Uh- sorry, I can’t stop smiling. Um, I dunno. The upgrade package has given us some extra speed, and we were able to toggle in some more oversteer for me, and it’s just made me incredibly comfortable in the car. Like, I can push to a hundred and ten percent, and still think, oh I’ve got a bit more in that corner, you know?

Q: The car really did come alive out there. Was this a track you were expecting to be strong at?

YI : Yes and no. I love this track, I love driving it, which, I’m sure Gojo will tell you he does too, in a minute, and it’s high downforce, high speed corners, which we were expecting to be strong at. But of course there’s always doubt with upgrades, and there’s always doubt as to whether you can be fastest when you’re racing Gojo. 

Q: Okay, Gojo, let’s come to you, then, you were pretty sensational out there, too. A purple sector one and three, and only one hundredth off Yuuji at all. How did you feel out there?

SATORU GOJO : Good. I’m not sure where I lost the time in sector two, but it seems to be our weak point. Yuuji was right, I love driving this track, and we were definitely expecting to be strong here. 

Q: Are you gutted to lose out by such a fine margin? It was incredibly close out there. 

SG : Yes. Always, I want pole. But Yuuji was more consistent out there today, and he deserves it. Points are scored on Sunday. 

Q: Okay, last but not least, Yuuta, another top three qualifying position for you. How did it feel for you out there?

YUUTA OKKOTSU: Very good! I’m not as much of a fan of this track as the other two, so- yeah. I’m probably about where I expected to be. 

Q: What about the upgrades, how are they feeling for you?

YO : Good. They’ve definitely given us more pace, looking at the gap between us and Jujutsu Tech. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR:

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Grade One Daily): Question for both Gojo and Itadori, please, the gaps between you have been extremely tight all weekend, tighter than the gaps with your teammates, in fact. Do either of you have an idea on why that might be?

SG : Because Fushiguro is a rookie, and I have six world titles under my belt, all in this car. Of course I’m going to understand better how to extract a hundred and ten percent out of it, even if Megs ( note: Megumi Fushiguro ) is off the pace, it’s less a reflection of him, and more of my experience. But he’s not off the pace, he’s three tenths behind me, and a tenth behind Yuuta, and he’s qualified in fourth.

YI : Uh. I dunno, but it seems unfair to ask me that when my teammate is sitting next to me. I’m faster than him at some tracks, he’s faster than me at others. Gojo and I have a similar driving style and similar preferences which is why I think we appear a lot closer on the timesheets even though we’re driving different cars. 

Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport): Question for Okkotsu, you have been relatively far off Yuuji the entire weekend, and today, he’s out-qualified you by over two tenths. Have the upgrades upset your harmony with the car?

YO : No. I’ve just been slower round this particular track, and it isn’t a reflection of my race craft. I don’t appreciate being asked question after question about a teammate rivalry that doesn’t exist. 

 

—

 

“No, are you kidding?” 

 

Gojo had been looking for Getou, admittedly. To ask something stupid, like, can we drive back to the hotel together. Can we shit talk the journalists together, have you been asked about your drivers as many times as me today ?

He isn’t expecting to find Yuuji and Yuuta, in the gap behind the Keicho motorhome, having a hushed but nasty argument. 

“No, but like, what the actual fuck was I supposed to say?” Yuuji’s voice hisses out, “I don’t feel sorry for you. We’re driving the same car, I’m not trying to make you look bad-” 

Yuuta’s voice is cold where Yuuji’s is hot. “You’re being immature about this.” 

“I respect you as a driver! I’ve been repeating that over and over, to anyone who’ll listen to me, I think you’re amazing. But this is like- am I supposed to roll over and let you win?” 

“This isn’t about that.” 

“What’s it about then. Because, seriously, I think you’re just embarrassed and taking it out on me-” 

There’s a crash sound, and Gojo’s feet are moving before his brain catches up, and he gets around the corner just in time to see Yuuji staggering back, his elbow grazing up against the cool metal of the motorhome. He’s clearly irritated, but Yuuta is regarding him with a cool anger, something calculated. Gojo wants to run from this, because it’s oddly similar to 2013, 2014, but this is harsher, because they both know what they’re doing. 

Both of them feel his presence and turn to look at him. They both look at each other, guilty, then back to Gojo, who is standing with his arms crossed in front of them. Yuuji blinks, “we weren’t-” 

“I don’t care. You don’t do this shit in the paddock where people could see or hear, alright? Especially when the reporters are all over the place doing the post-race stuff, and there are fans with cameras on their phones. Neither of you two are this stupid when you have drivers’ rooms.” 

Yuuta looks away, and Yuuji frowns, biting the inside of his cheek, nodding. “Sorry.” 

“It’s nothing to do with me.” Gojo sighs, “I don’t care if you two hate each other or if things are tense. I know what it’s like. But your boss will care, and so will you, if your race results start to suffer because of it. Hating your teammate is a miserable loop.” 

Yuuji and Yuuta look between themselves, and then Yuuji blurts, “just to be clear, you’re talking about Getou,” 

Gojo laughs, “no, I was mostly thinking of Toji, actually. He was a cunt. I never hated Getou, but he did hate me, so- well. A story for another time.”

The two younger men both stare at him with eyes like saucers, and Gojo huffs, pushing his sunglasses up onto his forehead. “So, if you’re going to carry on fighting, we can go back to the hotel. Or inside, or wherever. Yeah?” 

Yuuji shrugs, “I’m done fighting.” 

Gojo smiles with all his teeth. “Good. Save it for the track.” 

Yuuta, too, has the good sense to look a little guilty. “You’re not going to tell Getou about this, are you?” 

“No.” 

 

—

 

He tells Getou about it. 

Getou laughs at first, through a mouthful of pasta (hotel room service special!) then grimaces. “How bad was the fight?”

“On a scale of one to us- uh, a six? Not that bad,” 

“You and Toji were worse than we ever were.” 

“True.” Gojo has finished his meal already. He used to be a slower eater than Getou by miles, remembers Getou hitting him lightly on the arm when they went out together telling him to hurry up, but now the roles have been reversed, it seems. There’s also the fact that Gojo’s plate was a lot smaller. He’s slightly envious of Getou, being able to eat what he wants now. 

“I still don’t know what we should do with them. The marketing team wants it to look like they’re friends, so they can do all the cutesy challenge videos, y’know-” Getou waves a hand, “for the cash inflow, or whatever, but they’re tense in the garage.” 

“Why is Yuuta mad? I can see why Yuuji would be, but-” 

“Well, Yuuta’s slower. I think he’s starting to realise he’s signed a two year renewal for a competitive team where he’ll be second to his teammate, and the only other competitive team has filled both its seats for the foreseeable future, unless things change significantly at the end of this year,” 

“What would change at the end of this year?” 

“Well, you are retiring, aren’t you?” 

Gojo feels himself stall. Getou’s always seen right through him. “It’s undecided.” 

“They’ll offer you a contract, obviously, but are you going to take it? Especially if you win your seventh.” 

Gojo has to take deep breaths sometimes. They know each other so well, too well, and after being apart for so long, sometimes it takes a while for him to catch up with how well they still know each other. “If I win my seventh, I probably won’t renew my contract, no. No point carrying on when I’ve- solidified my legacy, or whatever,” 

“You don’t wanna go for eight? Try to make it completely unbeatable?” 

“I’ve struggled to get to seven with a huge period of dominance and a teammate who didn’t challenge me for wins and listened to team orders,” Gojo laughs, “I probably wouldn’t be close to seven if you’d kept racing. I think seven is a pretty tall order. If one of these kids beats it, then they’ll deserve it. I just wanna beat Sukuna.” 

Getou shrugs, a piece of pasta in his mouth. He swallows it before he speaks. “Do you really think that if I’d kept racing you’d have less titles?” 

“Yeah.” There’s no hesitation. But they’re dangerously close to talking about something that they probably shouldn’t be talking about if they want to keep the peace. “Probably.” 

Getou smiles, almost tiredly, “good thing I couldn’t keep racing, then, you wouldn’t be the greatest of all time without my retirement.” 

Gojo thinks, slightly, vaguely, insanely, that maybe he wouldn’t have minded not being the fastest, or the greatest, or the best, if Suguru had stayed around to race him. 

But he was a coward. So here they are. 

 

—

 

March 2009, Australia

 

Suguru’s dad texts him to say that even with the time difference, they’re watching from home. On the TV. He wishes him luck. 

He suits up and warms up with Utahime. They’re good as teammates, Suguru thinks. Similar in the way that they want to get on with racing and be disturbed minimally otherwise. There’s cameras everywhere, though, even more than in Grade Three, and he just has to learn to ignore them whilst he’s working with one of the trainers on reaction exercises. 

His dad’s been doing better recently. The chemo is making him sick, but it’s working. He has a breathing tube, oxygen being pumped into his nose, but he can sit up and laugh in bed and his mom seems happy with the progress he’s made. The doctors are saying that maybe he’d be okay to fly out and see a couple races towards the end of the year. 

But for now, he has to focus, get his head down, and win what’s in front of him. In the final testing sessions, he’d been in the top five on the timesheets, and in the very last session, he’s been second. He knows he has it in him, and he knows he can be consistent. 

But everyone’s expecting perfection from him. 

He bumps shoulders with Utahime as they both cross the garage. Her hair is braided. His is too short to braid, yet, but it’s long enough to be itchy under the balaclava. He still refuses to get it cut. 

He lowers himself into the cockpit, hands clasped around the steering wheel. Showtime. 

 

—  

 

AUSTRALIA 2009 - RESULTS G2 QUALIFYING  - ROUND ONE

Note: (R) indicates the driver is a rookie. 

 

POS	DRIVER NAME	TEAM
1	Maya WILSON	Nitro G2
2	Xavier KING	Nara AJT
3	Suguru GETOU (R)	Keicho Junior
4	Annalise ORTON	Nitro G2
5	Kelce TIMPSON	Sengoku JNR
6	Abby JOHNSON	Racing FRANCE
7	Iori UTAHIME	Keicho Junior
8	Charles MACRON	Racing FRANCE
9	Lillith KLEIN	Sengoku JNR
10	Evan PETERS	GPR
11	Jessica KING	GPR
12	Olliver BECKER (R)	EDO AJT

 

—

 

Dad : Well done out there today. You’re making me and your mom so, so proud. 

Dad : And the whole of Japan, too. 

Dad : I’m so lucky to have you as my son. 

 

—

 

July 2022, England

 

The race really doesn’t go how they’d want it to. Gojo tries valiantly to get Yuuji off the line, but his defense is solid. Gojo praises it over the radio, and Shoko tells him to shut up and go get him. 

So he tries. 

Yuuji manages to pull a gap of about two seconds in the opening two laps, where DRS isn’t activated, but behind him, Gojo manages to put three seconds in between him and Yuuta. By lap twenty, he’s close enough to Yuuji to try for the lead, and aborts an attempt at getting past at copse where they get close enough to make his heart skip a beat, and then he gets DRS on the straight going into turn fifteen. 

All in all, the lead switches between the two of them five times, but Yuuji wins out after a slightly quicker pitstop and a marginally stronger car. Yuuta comes in for third, followed by Nanami and Inumaki, then Megumi, who dropped places after feeling ill in the car, apparently. Which isn’t great in their fight in the constructors, especially when both Sengokus finished above him, but it can’t really be helped. 

He still watches as Yuuji jumps into his team with a vigour that almost knocks the barrier over. Gojo leaves his own visor down as he grasps Yaga’s hand, greets Shoko and Kamo and the engineers. Then, like clockwork, he gravitates towards Getou, who grabs his hand, and pulls him forwards hard enough that it makes him stumble, almost. He reaches up, and flicks the visor up, so he can look at his eyes. 

“You still think you could beat him in your sleep?” 

“You had a superior car today,” Gojo laughs, muffled by the helmet. 

“You’re cute. Go on, get your helmet off.” 

And he sends him careening towards the scales with a pat to the back. Gojo goes through the motions, gets weighed, pulls the helmet off and his balaclava, and chances a look back at Getou. He’s still looking at him, eyes soft but teasing. Gojo pulls a hand through his hair, trying to make it look presentable for the podium as he fumbles his sunglasses on. 

Since it’s a Keicho win, Getou comes up onto the podium with them. Gojo thinks rather distantly that the team principals don’t come up to the podium celebrations very often. It’s a strange sensation, watching Getou raise a trophy again after seven years. He can’t seem to take his eyes off him, white shirt crisp and clean in the sun. At least his sunglasses somewhat hide the direction of his gaze from the cameras. 

He turns to Yuuji, as the trophies get handed out. “We should all go for him, all three of us.” 

Yuuji grins, “okay,” and then turns to whisper the plan to Yuuta. 

When the music starts, Yuuji slams down his bottle on the champagne step, and immediately, all three of them turn, spraying champagne straight into Getou’s face. He sputters, laughing as he tries and fails to get them back. 

That serves you right for flirting with me in the middle of parc ferme where everyone can see , Gojo thinks. But it falls flat, because Getou’s shirt goes slightly more translucent when it’s wet, and Gojo can see the tone of Getou’s skin, and it makes something fizz inside him that isn’t the champagne. 

Getou manages to spray Yuuji first, but gets Gojo second, spraying fizz all over his face and chest, before emptying the rest of the bottle right on top of Yuuji’s head. He laps it up a bit like a dog, and then, when they get on the podium for photos, Getou loops his hand around his waist to stop him from falling from the edge of the step. 

It’s maddening. How much Gojo wants possibly the only person in the world he can’t have. But he’s dealt with it for almost his whole life, and he’s definitely not going to fall prey to it now. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	186
2	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	150
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	144
4	Nanami KENTO (+1)	Sengoku	119
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	118
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	94
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	67
8	Mei MEIJI(=)	Haein	45
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	42
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	41

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND NINE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	304
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	294
3	Sengoku (=)	213
4	Meiji (=)	108
5	Haein (=)	53
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	44

 

—

Notes:

warnings for those who need: discussions of cancer pertaining to getou's dad, implied EDs, and i think that's it! teehee.

i am INSANE! OFFICIALLY! please send help. send me ur thoughts, here, or tumblr, wherever. genuinely please. whatever thoughts you have, i want to hear them. pls refrain from requests tho lol, the entire plot of this is already planned out !!

also a note: the number one is only available to the current world champion. drivers can choose to take the number one or leave it. just bc theres several discussions about the no1 in this chap! yuuta uses it, yuki used it, and gojo has also used it in the past. :)

SO!! RIKOS HERE! HAIBARAS BACK! nothing bad is going to happen to them at all !! anyways. yeah comment if u enjoyed, please, im not beyond begging. love u guys

the track referenced in this chapter is Silverstone Circuit, which is the home of the British GP.

Chapter 11: xi - retirement

Summary:

When a car has to drop out of the race because of an accident or mechanical failure.

Notes:

warnings at the end for those who need, accompiament song for this chapter is enter one by sol seppy

enjoy another 10.4k from me :3

 

May 2009, Spain

 

Satoru gets his braces off in the gap between Bahrain and Spain. He shows it off to Suguru in the paddock, baring all his teeth and saying he can finally eat apples again, or chew gum. 

“You didn’t do either of those things to begin with.” 

“Yeah, but it’s like, the principle!” 

Both of their seasons have started well. Suguru leads the standings after the first two races, having come third in the feature race in Australia and winning the sprint, and coming fourth in the sprint and winning the feature in China. 

Satoru, meanwhile, has been lumped with a car that’s somewhat of what he calls a shitbox. Somehow, the gap from the rest of the teams to Keicho has widened, and everyone is stuck fighting for meagre points positions. 

Still, Satoru seems to be, in the words of the reporters, outperforming the car, managing a third place finish in Bahrain, where Toji came fourth right behind him.

The gap between the teammates is small, right now, but Satoru seems to be becoming the team’s favourite, and they, finally, after Singapore, worked out he needed much darker visors to compensate for his eyes being sensitive to the light. He wears sunglasses all the time, too, now, doing press and sponsorship events and everything else. 

They cross over more in the paddock now, too. Suddenly, since the transition to G2, the reporters have become incredibly interested in Suguru’s career, his life, his friendships with Satoru and Yuki and the younger drivers. He and Utahime aren’t forced to pretend they’re friends, thank God, but he’s been asked several times about the pictures of him cheering for Satoru over Yuki last year, shown the photos of them embracing over the barriers at Singapore more. The media seem to love it: him and Satoru, rivals since karting, the bestest of friends with differing career paths. 

The PR team at Keicho gently told him it couldn’t hurt, being seen more often with Satoru in the paddock. Suguru doesn’t know how to feel about that yet. 

“How are they changing the car this week, anyway?” Suguru shrugs, repocketing his access pass as they get through the barriers to the main paddock. 

“I can’t tell you that,” Satoru grins. “They’re changing the downforce levels, something on the rear wing. I want them to change the front wing ‘cause the front end is a bitch on the car so far, but I think that might be in the first set of upgrades, so.” 

“All you do is complain,” Suguru laughs, bumping their shoulders together, “you got a podium in Bahrain,” 

“And that was a miracle! The Haein’s gonna be faster than us, this season.” 

“You think?” 

“Sure, it’s early and they have good drivers this year.” 

They stop on the steps of the Sengoku motorhome, where Toji pushes out and then speaks in a flurry of French to Satoru. He does it a lot when Suguru is around, keeping him out of the conversation. Satoru has confessed that his French isn’t even that good, but Toji will insist on speaking it when they’re around other people. 

Satoru immediately responds in a harsh tone with pinched eyebrows, then turns to Suguru, apologetic, “sorry, press conference. I’m on after him, so we’re supposed to go together, I’ll catch you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Suguru says, patting Satoru’s shoulder lightly as he turns to go towards Keicho. 

 

—

 

BREAKING: CHOSO ITADORI ANNOUNCES RETIREMENT FROM G1 RACING / Grade One News

Written by David Cook - 7th May 2009

 

Choso Itadori has announced his unexpected retirement from racing at the end of the 2009 season, leaving the dominant Scuderia Keicho with an open seat for the upcoming 2010 season. 

When asked in a press conference at the Spanish Grand Prix whether contract talks had begun again, he stated: “No, they have not begun, because I will not be renewing my contract with Scuderia Keicho for 2010. We have been discussing a possible renewal over the last two weeks, but ultimately I believe it is time for me to move on from G1 after what has been an incredible few years racing for the Scuderia.” 

He was pressed further on what prompted the seemingly sudden decision, and said: “I am on good terms with Keicho. They wanted to keep me, and if I wanted to keep racing, it would always be with them, and with Yuki. But the calendar and the lifestyle is demanding, and I think that now I am reaching my mid-thirties, I just want a break.” 

Itadori’s shock announcement means that, at the end of 2009, a big shake-up could be on the cards: eight drivers, including Satoru Gojo, Toji Fushiguro, Edo’s Hanami, and Noaya Zenin are all without seats set for 2010. 

 

—

 

July 2022, Austria

 

One thing never changes: double headers are always a brutal affair. Everything is packed up by Sunday evening and they’re in the air before midnight, heading to Austria in Gojo’s private jet, trying to race jetlag and win. 

Megumi comes along, but this time, it’s just them and Toto, since Shoko and Yaga have to stay and delegate responsibility and Yuuji and Nobara are both flying commercial. Gojo suggests bringing Nobara along on one of their flights, and Megumi crunches his nose up and presses his lips together. “I think she’d make fun of you, mostly.” 

Megumi is idly stroking between Toto’s ears, feet up on one of the couches, when he frowns at something he sees on his phone, and looks across to where Gojo is sprawled out over his own seat. “Can I ask you something?” 

“You can ask. I might not answer,” 

“In 2009. Uh-” 

Gojo perks up at that. That was a long time ago, now. Pre-Jujutsu Tech. Pre, well. Everything. “What in 2009?” 

“Did they offer you a contract? At Keicho?”

Ah, it’s about that. “Yeah, they did.” 

“Why- I mean, they were dominant back then. Why didn’t you take it?” 

The answer to that is- complicated. Difficult to define. “A few reasons,” 

“Was it ‘cause of your dad?” 

“No. I mean, yes, of course, I didn’t really want to race for the same team as him. I wanted my own legacy, I wanted to be better. But I also really didn’t like Yuki much at the time, and she was young and very talented. I didn’t want to get stuck in a team where I’d always be relegated to a number two spot.” 

“You’re better than her, though.” 

“I am, now. At the time she was probably much better than me. Honestly, I could’ve used having Yuki’s advice. It helped Getou, definitely.” 

“Did they offer you the contract before they offered it to Getou?” 

Gojo sighs, “yeah, they did. To be fair, it was only, like, halfway through his grade two season, and they were still planning to put him in the Nara in 2010, probably.” 

“Does he- know?” 

“I never told him, I never had any intention of taking it. Sengoku was making progress at the time, and I was out-performing Toji pretty easily, so even if Yaga hadn’t come along with the Jujutsu opportunity at the time, I would’ve been able to renew with them pretty easily.” 

Megumi hums. His lips twist and he bites at the inside of his cheek. “Damn.” 

“Why’re you asking, anyway?” 

Megumi looks sheepish when he shows him a photoshopped picture of Gojo in the Keicho team gear. Gojo laughs so hard he snorts. 

 

—

 

The media circus, rather predictably, continues to bear down on Yuuji and Yuuta, taking every miniscule moment of tension and blowing it far, far, out of proportion. But it’s to be expected: after all, the separation between them is much smaller than any other pairing on the grid, and they’re both good enough to be fighting for a championship. Gojo personally thinks the delta times shrinking between Nobara and Mai make for a much more interesting story, given how talented and driven Nobara is, but he’s not a journalist, and he doesn’t choose the agenda. 

At least the reporters have finally decided they’ll stop asking him about it, which is nice. He doesn’t want to talk about two up-and-comers when he’s in the best form he’s been in in the last five years. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou, Team Principal of Scuderia Keicho, Austrian Grand Prix 2022

 

Q : Are you feeling optimistic about this weekend? A double podium last weekend was definitely a better moment after the drama in Canada. 

SUGURU GETOU : Yes, of course we are all always optimistic. There are a lot of points on offer here, as always. 

Q : Jujutsu Tech have bought upgrades this weekend. Whilst we understand this is probably their last major upgrade package before the summer break, it does mean that they could close the gap to you, how will you prepare for this?

SG : I think that the drivers are going to play more of a role than we think. Yuuji has been incredibly strong recently, and he’s also very hungry for it, which is exciting to see. Yuuta is doing well, too, keeping calm, and I think that’s what we need to maintain to keep an edge over them. 

Q : Your driver pairing is looking incredibly strong, probably one of the strongest pairings to grace the grid in recent years without a number one / number two dynamic to hold them back. They’ve both stayed within striking distance of Gojo, who is on form right now. Will you continue to allow them to race?

SG : Yes. I don’t want to downplay some incredible pairings in recent history, I think personally that Satoru and Nanami were very strong together, but Yuuta and Yuuji are both brilliant drivers and have the potential to become one of the great driver pairings we see once in a generation. 

Q : Like Sukuna and Kenjaku, you and Gojo?

SG : [laughs] I don’t see the comparison to Gojo and I, personally, but we were compared to the Haein rivalry a lot, back when we were racing, so maybe? But then again I’m biassed and I lived it the first time. I see a lot of myself in Yuuji, I see a lot of Satoru in Yuuji too. [laughs] Yuuta’s too calm to be either of us, really. He’s more like Choso, maybe Yuki. He’s a different character, and it works well for him.

 

—

 

May 2009, England

 

There’s a knock on the door of his drivers’ room after the sprint, which Getou isn’t expecting. He’s still sticky with champagne from the win. 

He doesn’t expect the Keicho boss to be standing there. He hurries to zip his race suit up, where it was hanging on his hips. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to-” 

“It’s fine, Suguru,” he’s Italian, and the r rolls through his teeth. His name sounds weird with the accent. “Listen, I’m here because you’ve been requested for a drugs test.” 

The panic that settles in Suguru’s stomach feels like a solid mass. He gets the overwhelming urge to claw up anything he’s eaten. “What? I- I haven’t been taking anything.”

His boss throws his hands up, “I believe you. These are random checks. We think other teams may have complained about your good performances.” 

“They’re allowed to test me just because I’m winning?” 

“When the teams put pressure on the higher-ups, they have to respond somehow. It’s just a urine sample, anyhow. It’ll be fine. Unless there’s something you want to tell me?” 

Suguru thinks back over the last five days. He’s had painkillers, for his niggling headaches. Sometimes as an attempt to knock him out when he’s flying. But they’re all over the counter. 

“No.” 

“Okay, well, get changed, and head down to the medics, and they’ll sort everything out.” 

His boss shuts the door in Suguru’s face, and hums a goodbye through the wood. Suguru breathes in and out, slow. 

 

—

 

The drugs test comes back clean. Suguru comes fourth in the feature race on Sunday. 

 

—

 

Post-Race Interview with Yuki Tsukumo, British Grand Prix 2009 

 

Q: Great race out there, managing an engine issue. Do you have any insight on the reliability issues? 

YUKI TSUKUMO : No, not really. At this stage, it is seemingly affecting both sides of the garage, but I’ve been unlucky with when my issues occur. Choso’s are, of course, happening in practice. I’ve been unlucky. 

Q: Still, P4 today, you bought it home well. 

YT : Yeah, but when your teammate wins it’s a dent on your championship chances. It’s hard to celebrate when it’s like this. 

Q: Speaking of teammates, since Choso announced his retirement in Spain, there’s been a lot of speculation about who the second Keicho driver will be next year. Do you have any preference as to who will drive alongside you? 

YT : No. I don’t decide who the second driver will be. 

Q: Well, out of Fushiguro, Zenin? Both of them have expressed an interest in driving for the Scuderia next season. 

YT : I will drive with whoever they hire. I have no preference. 

 

—

 

July 2022, Austria

 

At the end of the day, the race isn’t much to write home about. Gojo qualifies on pole, wins from there, and Yuuji and Nanami join him on the podium. Stress free wins this season will be few and far between, so Gojo soaks it up like the sun and grins atop the podium. 

Shoko ends up being up there with them, and Gojo immediately turns to her and sprays champagne straight in her face, despite her squeaking about ruining her hair. Yuuji gets more praise than anyone from the commentators: Yuuta is in fifth, behind Megumi, who seems to have really started to find pace in the car, now. It means the reporters will, hopefully, in France, stop asking stupid questions about whether he’s suitable as a G1 driver, despite having driven successfully in grade racing for years with approximately zero problems. 

They all go out to celebrate a win, some club that Yuuji wants to go to, and this time, for the first time, he manages to convince Megumi to come out with them. Half an hour before they’re meant to leave, Megumi comes up to Gojo’s hotel room, holding out his glucose monitoring patches, posing a silent question. 

Gojo takes them, and raises his eyebrows. Megumi tips his head back and groans. “Don’t.” 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“You implied it.” 

“I mean. Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” He says. “Yes, I am, Toto cannot come to a club, and I wanna go. Nobara’s going.”

“Yuuji’s going.” 

Megumi squints at him. “Obviously. He got a podium today.”

“I got a podium today.” 

“It’s different for you.” Megumi wrinkles his nose. “Can you hurry up?” 

Megumi can’t do the patches himself. Even when he has them in for races, somebody else always has to put it in for him. And they don’t stick to his skin well, either, so he tends to just leave them off. Often they’re already peeling somewhat by the time he gets out the car: they bandage them on, just to be safe.  

That had been the case today, too, where the patch they’d stuck on for the race had been tugged off with his baselayers. But now he needs another one. To go out. 

“Go sit down, I probably need to wash my hands before I do it,” Gojo says, and disappears as Megumi flops down on his couch. 

Like clockwork, Megumi winces, hissing through his teeth as Gojo pushes the needle in. “D’you reckon it’ll last the night?” 

Megumi shrugs. “Yuuji promised he’d go back with me if it falls off. And to keep an eye on it in case I don’t realise.” 

Even though Gojo will be there, and he’ll be sober. 

“He’s a good friend.” 

Megumi blushes bright red. “Yeah, he is.” 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ELEVEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	211
2	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	169
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	154
4	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	134
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	130
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	102
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	60
8	Iori UTAHIME (+1)	Kyoto G1 Team	48
9	Mei MEI (-1)	Haein	47
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	42

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ELEVEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	341
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	323
3	Sengoku (=)	236
4	Meiji (=)	102
5	Haein (=)	55
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	50

 

—

 

Gojo ends up in the VIP section of the club. There’s enough people from the race tonight that they’ve basically filled it up by themselves, so the kids have stayed up here to dance instead of heading down to the main floor.

Which means the dancing is making for excellent viewing, because the only cameras around here are phone cameras of their friends, and the worst exposé that will come of an embarrassing video is a video posted to a private instagram or a locked twitter account. So they don’t worry about looking stupid. 

Yuuji currently has Megumi’s hands locked in his and is spinning him around to some song in the middle of the floor. Every other second, they come close to knocking someone else over, and Yuuji has already had a drink spilled over him, but it’s done nothing to dampen his spirits. Megumi, too, is smiling big and wide, hair sticking up all over the place, and they come together as Yuuji shouts something into his ear. 

Then Nobara runs over, and her drink spills over the edges of her glass, and she’s pointing over to the bar, hands telling a wild story, and Yuuji’s eyes go wide. 

He lost Shoko an hour ago, and he’s pretty sure she’s in a bathroom somewhere with Utahime, or maybe gone back to the hotel, already, with her, but-

“Hello, Satoru.” 

Gojo tilts his head up, to see Getou standing above him, glass in hand. Getou leans down and sits next to him, taking a sip. “Living vicariously through them?” 

He can’t help laughing in response. “I’ve had my fun. I’m just thinking about all the ways I could set them up.” 

Getou sighs, “please wait until the end of the season. Yuuji will have no chance against you if he’s lovesick.” 

“He’s already lovesick, look at him!” 

Yuuji has managed to rope a very drunk looking Nanami and Haibara into dancing with him. Devilish, to the side, Shoko is videoing the whole ordeal. 

“I’m aware. I’m trying to keep him from getting any worse.” 

“Is this about them, or us?” Gojo says, “because I know I was a bit pathetic, and I’m sorry, but Megumi definitely likes him back, so it could be different.” 

Different to them, because Getou was never in love with him. He never looked at him the way Megumi looks at Yuuji. He’s sure he would’ve noticed it if he did. 

Getou’s lips part, then he relaxes back into his calm collected self. “They’re not so different. They’re still racing drivers.” 

“Yeah, but they’re both crushing on each other, that means it could work,” 

“Then we’ll agree to disagree, Satoru,” Getou says, then, “are you sober?” 

“Yes? I haven’t- I’ve barely done anything since, like, 2016. Maybe 2015.” 

“You were sober the other week?” 

“Yeah, I said I wasn’t drinking.” Gojo laughs, “you bought me a mocktail!” 

“I thought maybe you’d had something. You didn’t even have a bump?” 

“No,” Gojo blurts, “I don’t- yeah. I don’t do that anymore.” 

Laughing with his full body, Getou leans back against the couch, “I thought you were high! I must’ve embarrassed myself!” 

“I don’t care,” Gojo frowns. He’d dance with Getou sober, alone in a hotel room, if he wanted. “I’ve done worse,” 

Getou opens his mouth to formulate a reply, but then Yuuji is basically on top of him, dragging him up by his hands. “Come on Getou, dance with us,” 

Gojo shoves him up and Getou stumbles forward, sending him a glare with no heat. He feels crazy for wishing it did have heat in it, for wishing Getou would get truly angry with him, for hoping he’s push him against one of the club walls and just- take. He won’t though. 

So he watches Getou dance with Yuuji, and then with Nanami, and then with Haibara, who gets hoisted onto their shoulders as he giggles. 

 

—

 

July 2009, Belgium

 

The higher-ups test him again in Germany, after the feature race, and ask for another sample after the sprint in Spa. He leads the championship by a sizeable margin, now, and it’s thrilling. The reporters have started asking him questions about Grade One. 

Who’s your dream team? Do you have any contract offers? There’s likely to be a shuffle next season, are you thinking about the future?

He tries to answer all of them in stride, but it’s hard when English is still so foreign and he’s most often asked these things post-race, when he can’t think through the dizziness he feels, and the urge to collapse on the sofas and pass out. 

He asks Satoru about it. “Have you been drug tested?” 

“Once, after Singapore,” Satoru hums, “why? They testing you? I didn’t think they cared that much about the Grade Twos,” 

“They’ve tested me at every race since England. Apparently the other teams are complaining about my performance.” 

Satoru whistles, “you are having kind of an insane season. Perhaps they think you’re on something to help.” 

“What, so I’m just too good?” 

“Yeah,” Satoru grins, poking at Suguru’s cheek. “You’re too good. They’re definitely gonna offer you a seat next season. D’you know what team it’s gonna be, yet?” 

“Probably Nara, that’s where most of the Keicho Juniors end up,” 

“Shame, Nara has a shit car,” 

“I’m not exactly gonna go straight into a top team as a rookie.” Suguru rolls his eyes, tipping his head back. He watches Satoru’s gaze follow him, his blue eyes running over the column of his throat. 

“You should. You’re good enough.” 

“And you’re a team boss, yeah?” 

Satoru giggles, bright and airy, “yeah! I’ll write up your contract, how much d’you want?” 

“Ten mil.” 

“Ten! You’re worth more than that-” 

“How much is your new contract gonna be for?” 

“Dunno.” Satoru says, “I haven’t renewed with Sengoku. They want to, but Yaga’s saying I shouldn’t. I should wait for a couple teams to get in contact. Choso retiring is gonna shake things up, big time. A couple of drivers could be bought out of their contracts.” 

“Who?” 

“That’d be telling!” 

Suguru tackles him. 

 

—

 

BREAKING: EDO G1 TEAM ENTERS ADMINISTRATION

Written by Keira Lewis, 2nd August 2009

 

THE FUTURE IS IN PERIL: EDO GRADE ONE RACING TEAM GOES UNDER

Written by Maya Wright, 2nd August 2009

 

ONE LESS TEAM ON THE GRID? EDO ENTERS ADMINISTRATION

GRADE ONE NEWS OFFICIAL, 2nd August 2009

 

—

 

It happens over the summer break. Satoru frowns when he sees the articles, but isn’t surprised. 

“It’s long overdue. They were struggling last season, the financial crisis fucked them.” 

“That’s shit, for the drivers. Two less seats.” 

Satoru shrugs, sunlight glinting off the rims of his sunglasses, “survival of the fittest,” 

 

—

 

At the European Grand Prix, Satoru swears at a reporter who insinuates he only has a seat because of his dad, when Satoru is already showing more potential than his dad ever did. He tells the reporter as much, biting out the words through gritted teeth. 

On Saturday, he qualifies behind Toji, and then another reporter makes a comment about how Toji has been in talks with Keicho for 2010, and asks where Gojo will go. Satoru bears all his teeth and answers thinly. 

Suguru watches all this happen through glimpses of TV clips, and then sees Satoru’s performance on Sunday through his own eyes, along in the garage with Keicho. He doesn’t end up winning: Choso does, but Yuki still laughs in parc ferme, immediately after climbing out of the car. 

“Your friend drives well when he’s angry! He was like a demon out there!” 

One of Suguru’s performance coaches once said you have to leave everything behind in the car. Anger leads to sloppy performances, careless mistakes. It makes for crashes. 

Anger sharpens Satoru. Anger makes him better. 

Suguru doesn’t know what to make of that. 

 

—

 

July 2022, France

 

Gojo wishes he could say otherwise, but Le Castellet is not one of his favourite places to race. He really wishes he liked the track, since it’s so close to home, but he just- he dislikes it. 

The higher-ups only bought back the track in 2018, with significant changes from the last time they used it. Now, its technicality means it’s one of the more commonly used tracks for testing. France isn’t on the calendar at all for the provisional 2023 calendar, which, despite not liking Le Castellet, seems like a shame to Gojo. France has a good few beautiful, suitable circuits for racing, and the fans here are brilliant. France, like Monaco, like England, has a long, long history with motorsport, and it seems like a waste to not have a grade one race on the calendar next year, even if he doesn’t like Le Castellet. 

Maybe if he retires, he can do Le Mans next year. He’s thought about it for a while, whether he would or not. Shoko says he’ll do well if he decides to, but it’s a big decision. To leave a sport he’s never been without. 

He started karting at six. He’s thirty one now. There’s not been a time he didn’t know how to drive. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without it. Without the travelling, without the smell of petrol, without his friends and his proteges and the car. 

But it can’t last forever, so when it ends, what will he be left with? His Monaco apartment? A collection of the cars he can afford to buy, held somewhere in a museum with his permission? Pictures of him and his old friends, moments captured, co-opted and stolen by the media and the fans? 

Nothing is his. Really. 

Maybe he’d go back to Japan, for a while. But it’s never been home, there. His parents still live in Italy. Yaga lives in Monaco. Shoko lives out in Nice, for the season, and then lives in London in the off-season. 

He doesn’t know where Getou lives, nowadays. Probably Monaco, or Italy, during the season. 

He tries his best in the French interviews. A reporter makes a joke about him being a polyglot that he almost misses because the language feels foreign to him. The irony isn’t lost on him. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Megumi Fushiguro, Thursday Pre-Race, French Grand Prix 2022

 

Q: So, in Austria you finished in fourth, just off the podium, but you seem to be finding a good amount of pace in the car post upgrade. How do you think it will go here?

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO : Hopefully good. But everything is hard to predict. I did testing for the team here, last year, but this will be my first race on this track, so we have to be realistic with expectations. 

Q: Will the testing you’ve done give you enough experience to exploit here? Of course, a lot of the tracks in the near future will be brand new for you. 

MF : It’s good to be able to show adaptability to new tracks. The higher-ups are constantly testing new circuits, and some of Gojo’s best triumphs have been on new tracks - I want to mimic that level of adaptability around here.

Q: Speaking of Gojo - how’s the mindset, coming here? He leads, you’re not too far behind. You’re having one of the best rookie seasons since his, in 2008. 

MF : Well, there’s Getou’s rookie season, in Kiecho, 2010, which I am nowhere near matching, and Amanai Riko had a pretty good season too with Nara. Haibara. I have a very good car, and the team has taken a chance on me, putting me straight into a top team, and I have to perform, rookie or not. 

Q: You’re certainly very calm and collected about it, showing perhaps a level of maturity beyond your years and certainly beyond your level of experience - how do you maintain it over a race weekend?

MF : I think it’s just the way I am. I listen to a lot of slow music, I spend as much time on the sim as possible - it’s natural, to work hard. I have a great mentor, too, in Gojo, and watching the way he interacts with the team and the way he drives the car is a great help. 

Q: The Jujutsu and the Keicho have been extremely close on pace in recent races. Who do you think has the edge going into this weekend? 

MF : Uh- it’s hard to tell. This circuit is probably more suited to the Sengoku than either of our cars. Keicho and particularly Yuuji have a lot of quali pace and less race pace, so- stop. 

YUUJI ITADORI : Sorry, I’m crashing ‘cause I’m next. Carry on.

MF : Well, maybe you should ask him. 

YI: Ask me what?

Q: Who do you think out of Keicho and Jujutsu has the edge going into this weekend?

YI : Sengoku. Their car likes the combinations, it’s a good all-rounder. Both of us are a little weak in the medium speed corners. 

MF : [laughs] That’s what I said! 

YI: [laughs] Really?

 

—

 

In the free practices, the Sengoku is strong, particularly with Inumaki at the wheel. Haibara is sick, again, and as a result, Nanami hasn’t really been the strongest throughout the week. Gojo feels for him. He really does. Nanami is more than capable of compartmentalising: he’s done it for years, but this time, Haibara’s flare-ups are worse, closer together. Even Gojo has texted a couple of times, worried that Haibara isn’t attending a race when it’s so close to home. 

Nanami is only dropping a couple of tenths compared to what Gojo knows he’s capable of, but it’s enough to put him down behind Gojo and Yuuta in the order. Much like Gojo, Yuuji doesn’t like this track, and finds himself outperformed by his teammate for the first time in a while. He takes it in stride, though. Always positive. 

After the third free practice, the order is as follows: 

Inumaki tops the tables for the first time this season, followed closely by Yuuta, then Gojo, then Yuuji, then Megumi in fifth. Gojo has started praying for another round of Good Ole Sengoku Reliability Issues. Or maybe a grid place penalty. They haven’t had any of those, yet. 

But neither of those things happen before qualifying. Gojo’s general distaste for the track doesn’t take away from the skill he possesses to drive it well, and he pushes. Hard. Forgetting to breathe, maybe. It’s still only good enough for a third-place start, behind Yuuta on pole, and Inumaki in P2. Nanami starts alongside him in P4, followed by Megumi and Yuuji in P5 and P6, respectively. The surprise of the weekend, though, is that Nobara is less than a hundredth off Yuuji, in a far inferior car. 

Gojo can’t deny that Yuuji is having a bit of an off-week, but nevertheless, Nobara’s qualifying time is impressive, garnering some really positive attention from the press and team bosses alike. She only has a one-year contract with Meiji, so in theory, she’d be free to go wherever she wanted next season. To a championship contending team, maybe. 

Before the debrief, Gojo watches Yuuta’s onboards. They’re impressive, the kind of performance he would’ve put in last year reborn, living and breathing here and now. 

The gaps in qualifying are tight, which is why it hurts even more to lose out to less experienced drivers like he has today, but there’s things to be learnt in it. Hopefully, the Sengoku’s setup has hurt their race pace for the sake of warming up the tyres quickly, and they can catch them quickly in the actual race. 

Shoko calls him, and he pockets his phone. Another time. 

 

—

 

Transcript from Pre-Race commentary, French Grand Prix 2022, hosted by Momo Nishimiya, Yuki Tsukumo & Atsuya Kusakabe - G1TV

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: So, the grid lineup is a bit mixed up this week compared to what we’ve been seeing recently. Toge Inumaki has his first pole in- a while-

MOMO NISHIMIYA : Yes, I think his last pole was Russia 2020.

YT : So, that’s a new development. There’s Yuuta, too, who was having a bad run and seems to have found form again this week, and then of course Gojo, who we can never really count out of anything. I think the main surprise is seeing Itadori so far down the grid in sixth. 

ATSUYA KUSAKABE : I have heard that Yuuji isn’t particularly fond of this track, and it shows in his performances here. He wasn’t great here last year, either, in the Sengoku, and maybe he’s just having an off-week, but it doesn’t bide well when every race counts in that fight for dominance within Keicho. 

MN : It’s shaping up to be one of the most interesting narratives of the season so far, definitely!

YT : Especially with Gojo out in front by what’s becoming a larger and larger margin, I think it’s only natural to see these two young, very talented drivers coming up and thinking, okay, who’s going to come out on top?

AK : Yuki, you used to be teammates with their team principal, what do you think his aims are right now?

YT : [laughs] I’m still friends with their team principal, but he’s too smart to give away much, and he definitely doesn’t tell me any of their team secrets. He’s smart, and he’ll know that they need to pick a number one driver to be able to catch Gojo in the points, but I think ultimately that Keicho is a beast, with a lot of built in politics, and the main thing will be to get to the end of the year with at least the constructors’, which they should go home with considering Megumi’s inexperience in JTR. 

MN : Megumi really is having an incredible season, and you raced against his dad. 

YT : Yeah, we kinda forget how recently in history Toji was a championship contender. Megumi definitely has all his skill, but Gojo’s had a lot of influence on him. 

AK : Gojo, too, here, we’re seeing a slump in form after a couple of really strong races for him and a grand chelem in Austria, which takes him to five as a career total. It’s definitely got to be frustrating to be sat right behind Yuuta, who is definitely in a position to give him a run for his money in the championship yet. 

MN : It’s interesting, he’s said he’s watching Yuuta’s onboards to try and find more pace out there today and claw back up.

YT : Yeah, you can definitely learn a lot more from onboards than you think. I won’t give away any trade secrets, but the movement of the helmets is a giveaway. I think Gojo doesn’t necessarily need to beat Yuuta today, but he definitely needs to hold onto that podium spot, which Nanami is going to want to take from him. 

AK : Still, Sengoku seem to be best of the rest this season. 

YT : There’s an argument to be made that they could close the gap, but I agree with you. Keicho and Jujutsu are just looking a bit too strong to allow themselves to be overtaken, at this point, the gap is over a hundred points, now. 

MN : A lot of viewers have been pointing out the irony in Gojo’s closest championship challenge since 2014 coming in the form of the same rival who beat him back there. 

AK : I’ve gotta admit that it feels like one of those full circle moments we get in the sport. 

YT : I would argue that Getou is definitely making a difference to Keicho already. He was the person who decided to sign Itadori, was pushing for it, and it seems like it’s been a very lucrative decision for them. 

MN : Yuuji definitely just oozes potential out there on the track, and he’s given some convincing performances already this season, and he always gives the sense that he’s got so much more left to come.  

 

—

 

Gojo walks past the interview as it’s going on, and hears Momo’s “Yuuji just oozes potential out there,” and then the rumble of the crowd, of the garages. He throws a peace sign to the commentators as he ducks underneath the camera, and then hears the second part of Momo’s sentence, “he always gives the sense he’s got so much more left to come.

He texts Getou about it, obviously. 

 

Me: jus heard nishimiya say yuuji oozes ptntial

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : That can’t be hygienic

 

Gojo laughs into the empty space in front of him. Several staff members turn and look. 

 

—

 

September 2009, Italy

 

Suguru wins the feature race in Monza. It’s a close thing: Utahime is right on his ass the entire time, but he holds his breath and waits, and it comes to him. He jumps from the car, and Satoru is there, hugging him tight and then running off before the podium ceremony because he shouldn’t really be there, in the support paddock, at all. 

The higher-ups don’t drug test him, this time, which is nice. The next race is Japan, which Suguru is excited for: he’s going to get to see his dad, and his dad is going to watch him race, and his dad is doing well. 

As well as he can, anyway, given the cancer. He’s still not got long, and Suguru is on the phone with him every moment he can be: talking about the cars, the racing, Yuki and Choso, about Satoru, the parties he goes to, when he can, with Nanami and Haibara. 

His dad listens, tells him about articles he’s reading in return, now that he’s practically confined to his bed. He’d already heard about Edo going under, the rumours of Fushiguro being asked to join Keicho, of Yuki saying she didn’t care who she drove with. 

“She’s bold, isn’t she? And a brilliant driver, too. I hope you’re learning a lot from her!” 

“I am, dad.” 

On the Monday after, Satoru comes down from a call with Yaga, excited, buzzing out of his skin. “I have a seat for next season.” 

“What?! Where!” 

“Yaga’s buying Edo. He’s giving me one of the seats.” 

Suguru is immediately sceptical. “Edo’s not good, though,” 

“They will be. Yaga’s promised me that they will be, and I trust him. And it’s not gonna be called Edo anymore. They’re doing an overhaul, and they’re gonna announce it at the Japanese Grand Prix.” 

“I thought they’d offer you the seat at Keicho, did you not wanna go to a championship team?” 

Satoru tenses, just slightly, and grins. “I don’t wanna drive for Keicho. Plus, I can’t stand Yuki.” 

 

—

 

They call him into headquarters at the end of September, whilst the rest of the team is in Singapore. Suguru really thought he was there to do simulation work, but the PR officer has other ideas, pulling him into an office and presenting him with a stack of papers. 

“What’s this?” 

She smiles, bright and wide. She’s in her early twenties, maybe: she can’t be that much older than him. 

“Your contract for next year.” 

Suguru frowns, flicks his eyes over the paper, “but this- this says Keicho. As in, Scuderia Keicho–” 

“Yes, is that a problem?” 

Suguru looks at the paper. The words printed there swim before his eyes. The woman continues. “You don’t have to sign right now, you should probably read all of it, have someone more experienced look at the clauses and check they’re to your liking. And of course, the pay negotiation, since other teams are very likely to offer you contracts, also, and we want to pay whatever it will take to keep you.” 

“You want me to drive for the main Keicho team? With Yuki?” 

“She requested you, specifically. Above anyone else.” The woman smiles, “is this really that much of a shock?” 

Suguru wants to say: yes. It is, and I will be a rookie, in a championship-winning team, in a dominant team, and-

“We want to announce it in Japan, at your home race, if possible,” she says, still smiling, “so that’s the timeframe of communication, but if you need more time or decide to sign to another team, let us know.” 

Sign to another team? Is he crazy? He’s just been offered the single best opportunity of his life, and she’s acting like throwing it away is an option. Still, he shuffles the papers together, and stands, shaky. “Thank you,” 

“No problem, Suguru,” she says, “you’re a great driver. You deserve this,” 

 

—

 

Me: Satoru, are you home?

 

Gojo Satoru : yh 

Gojo Satoru : y?

 

Me: Do you wanna go out tonight?

Me: I just got given a new contract. For G1.

 

Gojo Satoru : holy shit????

Gojo Satoru : 4 nara?

 

Me: No. For Scuderia Keicho

 

Gojo Satoru : mate. idek what 2 say!!

Gojo Satoru : yh let’s go out out im inviting nanami and haibara i hope u kno

Gojo Satoru : is shoko in france aswell

Gojo Satoru : you’ve just signed for the big leagues bro im gonna send the heli to go get her 

 

Me: I haven’t signed yet. Technically

 

Gojo Satoru : y not?/????

 

Me: I kind of want you to look over the contract first. 

Me: Since you have experience with them, I need to check they’re gonna pay me right and all that stuff.

 

Gojo Satoru : yeh ofc ill look at it r u kidding 

Gojo Satoru : u shld probs ask yuki too, to compare, yk

Gojo Satoru : u can do that tho i dont wanna tlk 2 her

 

Me: Right, yeah, good idea

 

Gojo Satoru : sent the helicopter 4 shoko 

Gojo Satoru : get ur ass home we’re going OUT

 

—

 

Shoko ⋆ : YOOOOOOOOOOO

Shoko ⋆ : SUGURU UR A FUCKIN G1 DRIVER? 

Shoko ⋆ : I KNEW YOU’D DO IT

 

—

 

Suguru barely remembers anything from that night. The three of them - Nanami and Haibara go back to his, so they don’t come - stumble into Satoru’s house at well past three in the morning, and Shoko promptly falls asleep on the couch in the living room, and Satoru drags him upstairs into bed. They fall asleep together, and Suguru isn’t quite sure how his shirt ends up unbuttoned on the floor, or how Satoru ends up pressed against him in just his boxers, but it’s nice, warm. 

Even when they wake up slightly sticky from the alcohol, and Satoru reaches over to check his phone, “fuck, I spent like, three grand.” 

“Three grand?” Suguru gasps, and then turns over to look himself. They’re pressed skin to skin, chest to spine. 

“I bought all the drinks, remember, and the booth,” Satoru giggles, “next year, with your salary, you can buy too,” 

Suguru doesn’t say that he thinks that much money spent on alcohol regardless is wasteful and stupid: after all, he had fun. Satoru offered. 

“I’m getting up, I need a shower.” 

Satoru grumbles in response like a cat who’s being lifted up against his will. “No, stay for a bit.” 

Suguru leans on his shoulder for a moment longer, breathing in and out, slow. He counts to five in his head and then sighs, “nope.” 

And he gets up, and Satoru squawks in protest, but can’t really do much either way. 

Suguru goes down first, wakes up Shoko, and then decides to make breakfast. 

She sits on the counter watching him, legs swinging, still in her dress from last night, makeup smudged, and laughs when Satoru comes in, oversized shirt down to his thighs, hair rumpled. 

“Put pants on,” 

“No, it’s my house!” 

Shoko giggles, “that’s not even your shirt, it’s Keicho merch!” 

Satoru huffs and goes upstairs, and comes back down wearing a pair of Suguru’s pyjama bottoms, too. He throws a shirt at Shoko, “put this on,” 

She does, because she was slightly cold, and then disappears to wash her makeup off. When she comes back, they sit around the table, eat, and as Suguru counts to five, rhythmic, he thinks this might be the best it can get. 

He’s still hungover when he finally calls his dad to tell him about the contract. He hopes his dad can’t hear it in his voice, and his dad laughs, weak, over the phone, “I love you, you’ve done it, I’m so proud of you.” 

Satoru only teases him slightly for the way he cries when he hangs up. 

 

—

 

July 2022, France 

 

The startline of any race is one of Gojo’s favourite places to be. Sometimes, he wishes he could stay there forever, swimming in the anticipation of the before. Before the race, anything can happen. Before the race, he knows nothing about how anyone else will drive. Before, he doesn’t know how the results will have consequences. 

The grid is filled with people, always. Celebrities with expensive tickets trying to pretend they know things, reporters trying to talk to the team bosses, the engineers, the drivers. And then there’s the cars, lying in wait in their spots. 

It’s hot in France, late July. Peak summer, really. Track temperatures are supposed to reach thirty-one degrees celsius, which isn’t horrific, but isn’t cool, either. Tyre management will likely come into play today, something which Gojo considers himself good at. 

He only likes milling about on the starting grid when he knows he won’t be noticed, is the thing. If he could stay in limbo, as a ghost, he’d love to watch. Walk up and down and be a fly on the wall for all the conversations. But he can’t. 

When he steps out onto the tarmac, he’s wearing an ice vest in an attempt to keep as cool as possible for as long as possible. Nanami, who stands beside him during the anthems, is wearing one too, and so is Utahime, and Megumi, on the team’s request. 

Gojo wants to be optimistic about today, but he can see Yuuta standing across from him, jaw set, and knows he’ll have to put up a pretty good fight if he wants to win. 

When he’s leaving to go to the pitlane, Getou pats him on the shoulder and wishes him good luck. Gojo moves the ice vest across his chest to compensate for the burning lingering feeling on his upper arm. It doesn’t work. 

He runs his fingers along the halo, along the smooth metal. It sings back to him. 

When he lowers himself into the cockpit, he’s not thinking about anything anymore. 

“Radio check?” 

“Good to go,” 

 

—

 

September 2009, Japan

 

They land in Japan on Tuesday. They’re whisked straight to the hotel, and Suguru collapses, dead to the world. 

When he wakes up on Wednesday morning, he has five missed calls from his mom. 

His father dies on Wednesday evening. Suguru cannot be there: Suzuka is five hours away from the specialist hospital in Tokyo where his dad is. He calls him, on Wednesday, left alone by the staff. 

No, you don’t want to see him, right now, he’s a mess. His dad’s dead. God, the results are going to be awful this weekend. It’s best to leave him alone. 

His dad sounds awful. He’s had another episode: he can’t breathe properly and every word is laboured. Suguru doesn’t want to remember his dad that way: he cries silently all the way through the call, and he just knows that this is it. The last time he’ll speak to his father. 

His father dies on Wednesday, approximately 23:39. He knows this because his mum texts him at 23:41 and says he’s just gone . 

At two minutes past midnight on Thursday, Satoru barges his way into his room and demands to stay with him. He can see it for what it is: a desperate attempt to help. But Suguru doesn’t cry. It’s done. His dad will never see him race. His dad will never get to embrace him in parc ferme. He will never get to win a championship, and get to be held, embraced by the person who made it all possible. His dad will never even see him debut in Grade One. 

But it’s over. So there’s no point in crying about it. 

 

—

 

On Sunday, Suguru lowers himself into the car. He starts from pole. He leads every lap, even after the pitstop. He wins. 

It’s a grand chelem. Something that has never been performed in Grade Two before, ever. 

He stands on the podium, listens to the cheers, and does not cry. 

 

—

 

GRADE TWO CHAMPION SUGURU GETOU ANNOUNCED AS SCUDERIA KEICHO DRIVER FOR 2010 / Grade One News / Grade Two News

Written by David Cook, 4th October 2009

 

Scuderia Keicho have announced their second driver as the rookie and current G2 champion Suguru Getou for 2010, in a move that has sent shockwaves through the paddock. He will drive alongside the 2008 world champion Yuki Tsukumo, replacing the retiring world champion Choso Itadori. 

Suguru cemented his championship win in Grade Two by completing the first ever Grand Chelem in a G2 race, leading every lap after taking pole on Friday, and gaining the points needed to mean he cannot be caught by any driver in the remaining two races. 

“The performance was incredible,” team boss Angelo Amato said of the young driver, “he’s broken records with his junior seasons, and we’re very happy to have supported his development these past two years. He’s shown his adaptability, his resilience, and an incredible amount of mental fortitude this week in particular… after losing his father earlier in the week, we didn’t expect this performance from him, but he’s gone out and delivered anyway. We’ve definitely made the right decision.” 

Suguru himself also seems optimistic about the move: “Yuki’s become a good friend over the past two years, and I’m excited to learn from her more closely, and I’m looking forward to becoming part of such a prestigious team.” 

When the 2010 season gets underway in March, Suguru will be twenty: one of the youngest drivers to race in G1 since Sukuna. An incredible run of back-to-back titles means he’ll come into the pinnacle of the sport with great expectations, but team bosses and other drivers seem to think he’ll deliver. Tsukumo, in particular, rates him highly: “he’s had an incredible run of rookie titles. He deserves a top seat. Earlier in the season I mentioned I didn’t care who they hired to drive with me, but I’m glad it’s him: he’s undoubtedly the future of the sport.” 

Satoru Gojo, his friend since karting, also congratulated him: “he deserves that seat more than anyone, and I’ve been saying all season that he’ll be in G1 for 2010. He’s an incredible driver, and if I want to fight anyone for a title in the future, I want it to be him.” 

See Comments:

 

Miller44 : I don’t really watch G2, but Getou’s run in the feeder series has been incredible. He’s consistent, fast, and a good team player when he needs to be. He’s got the most potential out of anyone in G2 or G3 by miles at the moment, and that grand slam on home ground proves it. Congrats to him. A future WDC in the making.

 

Gojofan37 : Everyone get you a friend like Satoru, he’s been talking about how good Suguru is all season!!

 

Geomurr : This weekend was hard to watch, at times. Suguru didn’t look like himself all week, incredibly tired and resigned, and after basically being forced to admit his dad died in an interview on Thursday, you’d expect him to be off his game. But winning that feature race as well as he did was a fairytale moment, and the podium ceremony made me cry for him. 

 

Harrietnor : The broadcasters should be ashamed of themselves, poking at a grieving kid like that in the interviews. He clearly felt awful, and it was horrible to watch. 

 

Keichoisthebest : Yuki is recommending this kid to no end, hopefully he’s as strong as he’s been in G2 in G1 next season and helps us secure a third constructors! 

 

—

BREAKING: EDO G1 TEAM TO BE REBRANDED FOR 2010 / Grade One News

Written by Jos Palmerton, 4th October 2009

 

Edo G1 Team has been bought by two-time world champion, and more recently, strategist for Scuderia Keicho, Yaga Masamichi, for just one British pound. The previously British-owned team will rebrand for 2010 under Jujutsu Technical Racing, using Japanese engines and headquarters. 

It was announced publicly at the Japanese Grand Prix, where Yaga also announced they had signed Sengoku’s Satoru Gojo on a one-year contract for 2010. “The one year is mostly for his benefit… so he can move on if he sees fit. He’s very young, with incredible potential and I’ve known him a long time. I’m excited to be starting this journey together, and his trust in me will hopefully be rewarded. I promised him a long time ago I’d give him a championship winning car, and now I have the opportunity to do just that.” 

The team’s second driver is yet to be confirmed, but both of Edo’s current drivers will not continue in what Yaga describes as a “complete overhaul for the team’s trajectory”. 

 

See Comments:

 

Gojo37 : Oh god, I hope Yaga can deliver. I was really hoping Satoru would sign for Keicho. 

 

Katieruss : bye bye career, lol! Imagine being beaten to the Keicho seat by your G2 mate!!

 

Racingfan89 : Yaga and Gojo have known each other a long time: Yaga raced with Gojo’s dad! If Gojo trusts him, so should we. 

 

Georgebrown : waste of talent in a low budget team. He’ll never win a championship there. 

—

 

The funeral is organised quickly. Suguru pays for all of it, promises his mom that with his salary next year, he can pay off all their debts and buy her a new house, whatever she wants. 

She says she doesn’t want to leave the house he grew up in, and Suguru is secretly relieved, after everything. 

She doesn’t look him in the eyes the entire time he’s home. The entire funeral. After shouldering the coffin, watching it be lowered into the ground, his mother says, quiet, “you didn’t get to say goodbye. Could you really have not come?” 

“No- I- mom. I wouldn’t have made it in time.” 

His mother blinks, breathing slowly beside him. “When do you have to go back to the airport?” 

He hasn’t booked a flight back to Italy yet: the team said he could take all the time he needed, join them in Abu Dhabi for the last race. 

As they drive back to the house, his mother looks out the window. “I think you should book your flight back home when we get in. So you don’t forget.” 

Suguru almost jerks the car sideways. But he doesn’t. He’s a professional driver, now. 

“Okay.” He says, in return. 

“I think your father would want you to go back as soon as possible, to focus on the racing.” There’s something bitter there, but at nineteen, and full to the brim with grief, Suguru can’t bring himself to pick at the stitches holding it together. He can’t bring himself to cry in front of his mother, not when she’s already got tears rolling down her cheeks. He won’t. 

He books a flight to Milan on his family computer, eats, and then sits in his childhood bedroom and stares at the ceiling, the trophies and medals on the walls, the signed faded cap from Yaga. The red Keicho cap. 

He puts it in his suitcase for when he leaves in a day’s time. 

His mom, on the doorstep, gives him a letter, sealed with his name scrawled across the front. “He wrote this for you, when he realised. I haven’t read it,” she says, weakly. “And here.”

She passes across his necklace. It’s silver, two rings joined in the centre. Simple. He takes it in his palm and holds it there. “Can you put it on?” 

His mom does, and then kisses him goodbye when he leaves. 

 

—

 

July 2022, France

 

Inumaki tries his hardest, but can’t hold out against Yuuta in the Keicho: he’s just too fast on the straights. Gojo’s pretty sure he blacks out and wakes up at the finish line with a lousy P3 finish to show for it. 

Yuuji makes up places for P4 by the end, and Megumi holds onto P5 by a hair: Nanami is P6. Nobara comes home P7, outracing Mai, which Gojo thinks is brilliant for the shitbox of a car she has to drive. 

It’s another podium, but it's soured mostly by the idea that Yuuta has closed the gap in the drivers, and slowly but surely Keicho is closing the gap in the constructors’, too. 

Fuck France, he wants to go home. Suddenly everything feels sour, and he can feel the bitterness closing in on his tongue. 

He smiles for the cameras, up on the podium, sprays Yuuta with champagne, and hugs Inumaki tight, too. He deserves this: the glory and the champagne and the crowds screaming for him. 

Gojo knows he’s having an incredible season: he’s barely been off the podium, so far. And then he feels guilty for being bitter about this whole thing, because for drivers like Inumkai, the glory is few and far between. Gojo getting tired of what half the grid dreams of is just poor taste. 

So he sucks it up, and does the interviews, the press conferences, whatever, and counts down the seconds until he’s in the air again. 

For another double header. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWELVE - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	226
2	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	182
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	180
4	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	142
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	140
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	120
8	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	73
7	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	51
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	48
10	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	48

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWELVE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	366
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	362
3	Sengoku (=)	262
4	Meiji (=)	121
5	Haein (=)	60
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	50

 

—

 

Shoko and Yaga join him on the private plane, this time, along with Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara, who, it turns out, needed practically a negative amount of convincing to be persuaded onto Gojo’s private jet. 

When she gets on, her jaw drops and she spins a full three hundred and sixty degrees to take it all in, which makes Gojo laugh, despite everything. 

“This is yours?” 

“Yeah.” 

“As in, you own this?” 

“Yeah. AirGojo.” 

“Don’t name your private jet after yourself, it’s distasteful,” Megumi walks up behind them, bonking the back of Gojo’s head with his water bottle. The non-sponsored one, the one he actually drinks from. 

Gojo feigns surprise and then pain as he holds the back of his head, a long, drawn out, overly whiny “Megumi,” leaving his lips. He turns back to him, unimpressed. 

“That didn’t hurt,” 

Gojo straightens up and smiles. Nobara is still looking around in awe. 

“Seriously, Nobara, don’t feed his ego, it’s massive enough-” Megumi groans, as Nobara looks back at Gojo with stars in her eyes. 

“How rich are you ,” 

“I’m a billionaire!” Gojo gloats, and Megumi sighs. 

“No he’s not, don’t listen to him.” 

“He is, he told me,” Yuuji pushes past, throwing his carry-on bag onto a seat in front of them. Megumi looks at Shoko for help, who shrugs. 

The three younger drivers begin to bicker over- well, something. Gojo isn’t paying attention. Shoko sits next to him and leans her head on his shoulder. 

“Did you hear that Nanami’s gone back to Monaco?” 

Gojo hadn’t. “For Haibara?” 

“Yeah. It’s bad again.” 

Shoko leans closer to him. There’s so much that this sport has taken from her. Whilst Gojo’s career feels like it’s coming to an end, Shoko’s is only just beginning. If she wanted to carry on into her sixties, she could, easily. The mind doesn’t age like the body. 

“He was on a lot of painkillers in Canada,” Gojo hums. Yaga isn’t listening to them, poring over a stack of papers in the corner. Shoko’s looking at him, and she has her laptop with her, too, but she’s not touched it yet. 

“I haven’t seen him in a while,” Shoko says, “but Nanami seems-” 

“He’s off,” Gojo agrees. 

“He doesn’t usually drive like that,” 

When you sign a grade one contract, you lose a lot of control. In a lot of them, the team gets to dictate your weight, your relationships, your career. When it starts, when it ends, the car you’ll drive, the people you’re seen with. Keicho’s contracts have long had a reputation for being the most restrictive on the grid, which was one of the reasons Gojo hadn’t been particularly interested in driving for them. That, and Yuki would’ve been his teammate. Which, at the time, was a death sentence for his budding career. She was a world champion, well liked, and she was practically born in red, like Suguru was. 

Gojo hadn’t been enthused about being asked to be in her shadow.

“I know they like to keep private,” Shoko says, leaning forward so her forehead is resting on her hands, “but keeping it hidden protects the higher-ups. No one knows how bad it is, apart from us,” 

Gojo looks over at where the other three are still bickering, Yuuji scowling and Nobara rocking backwards and forwards in laughter as Megumi tries and fails to be serious. 

“No, I guess they don’t.” 

“It feels like they’ve gotten away with it. With what happened to him. Did they even pay him that much?” 

“I dunno how much the NDA was for,” Gojo admits, “and they’ve given him a job. Haibara doesn’t wanna rock the boat.” 

Shoko raises her eyebrows. “He’s too nice.” 

Gojo remembers it: Haibara’s accident. He remembers the way the cameras had pulled away as he lost control, and he remembers Getou jumping from his car behind and running to switch off the engine. 

He tries to not remember it, though, because if he thinks about it too long, he remembers that it could have been him, that day. It could have been any of them. It could have been Getou. 

But it wasn’t. And the only reason it wasn’t was because of luck. 

Gojo doesn’t believe in luck. It was because of a decision, made by Yaga. That’s why he and Getou aren’t in Haibara’s position today. 

Shoko bites a nail. Gojo doesn’t say any of this to her. 

“Yeah, he is too nice, but it’s not our place.”

 

-

Notes:

warnings: minor character death, talk of grief, brief ED mentions, talk of crashes.

hey.. sorry... tell me ur thoughts...

next update is gonna be a little longer, maybe 2/3 weeks. uni is picking up again! also not gonna be as active replying to comments, but just know i love and appreciate every single one!!

tracks referenced in this chapter are the red bull ring (ew) and the Circuit Paul Ricard.

see u next time, come talk to me on tumblr!

Chapter 12: xii - understeer / oversteer

Summary:

Handling characteristics of a vehicle when it does not precisely follow the path set by the steering input. Understeer is when a car turns less than commanded, with the front tyres losing grip, while oversteer is when it turns more than intended, with the rear tyres losing grip.

 

Most drivers prefer a set-up with oversteer.

Notes:

please mind tags have changed! warnings in end notes for anyone who needs, pls bare in mind end notes will also have spoilers, this chapter. it is 12k, and i lost control of it completely.

starting a new game called spot the sebastian vettel reference, because theres one in almost every chapter at this point. if u spot the reference, u get a point! if you're not into f1 and u want the vibes, watch this edit of the 2010 season, which irl was Vettel's first title.

please, please, please listen to his hands by blegh as you read the second half of this chapter.

February 2010, Spain

 

Suguru, decidedly, does not open the letter from his father. He thinks it is like Pandora’s box, maybe. It is easier to hold back. He’ll know when he’s ready to read it. 

Pre-season testing gets underway, and all of it is in Spain. Even though the season starts halfway across the world in Bahrain, and the team is Italian. It doesn’t make a hell of a lot of sense to Suguru, but oh well. Everyone else is testing in Spain, too. 

The first thing he notices in Valencia is the sheer amount of cameras. They’re not really there for him, and the garage doors are kept sealed shut most of the time he’s getting ready, anyway, but it’s still unnerving. 

They don’t see him warm up, and they don’t see him climb into the car, and they don’t see his face, either. The only time they get a clear shot of him is when he’s in the car, helmet on, visor down. 

He tries his best to hide it, but Yuki notices anyway. “I know you know this, but you’ve just gotta learn to ignore them. It’ll be worse when the season starts.”

“How do you deal with it?” 

Yuki laughs, bright and open. “I barely notice them anymore!” 

 

—

 

Yuki carries a notebook everywhere during testing. Suguru hadn’t noticed if before, but now he has, it’s impossible to ignore, her scrawling everything down. 

She gets out the car and immediately holds a hand out, asking for it. She writes in a mix of English and Italian, switching between the two. Her Italian is perfect, too. She’s fluent. Suguru feels a burning jealousy thinking about it, how he still has to think before every sentence he says. 

“What’re you writing about?” 

Yuki looks up, drinks straw trapped between her teeth. She lets the pen fall, and moves the drinks straw to the side of her mouth, chewing it between her back molars. “Car development stuff,” she says, still chewing, “it’s not very fast.” 

Suguru frowns. The car had felt plenty fast to him, but Yuki’s been in G1 for a lot longer than him. So he leans over the notebook. 

She turns her attention half back to writing, “but you don’t have to worry about it this year,” 

“No one did this in G2,” Suguru mumbles, and Yuki laughs, a bright airy sound. 

“Of course not. G2 isn’t a car contest, you’re all in almost equal machinery. But here, half the battle is the car.” 

“Can I read?” 

“Sure.” Yuki says, in a way that’s completely unbothered, nonchalant. “I dunno if you’ll understand it, though,” 

Suguru does, in fact, understand most of the English scratchings. Italian is a different matter, but the English, he knows. Knows the scrawlings about too much oversteer through turn five, realises it's the truth, even if at the time he’d loved the feeling of it at the time. 

“Do the engineers actually… listen to all this stuff?” 

Yuki snorts. “Uh, yeah. I’m the one in the car, I can give objectively the best advice about what’s going on in the cockpit.”

“Well, I get, like, making it more comfortable for you to drive, like changing the setup and stuff, but you’re talking about how to make it faster. Do they listen to you for that?” 

“You know what the difference is, between me and Toji?” 

Suguru doesn’t. “A world driver’s championship?” 

“No, the reason why I have one and he doesn’t.” Yuki grins, “it’s because of this. Because I work with my team, not just alongside them. It makes the great drivers great.” 

 

—

 

“I wanted to be in his position” : Fushiguro opens up on Keicho, future in G1, and World Championship prospects / INTERVIEW

Written by Julie Davies, 18th February 2010

 

Toji Fushiguro sits opposite me, shoulders completely relaxed, arms on the top rest of the chair he’s sitting in. His presence is larger in person, as he picks at his fingernails and smiles. “Of course I want to win a world championship,” he says, cool and collected, “and I believe I am in the position to do so,” 

At the end of last season, Toji renewed his contract with Sengoku Racing, on a three-year basis. However, between him and the team, it wasn’t completely smooth sailing: “I wanted to move, somewhat. It’s no secret that I didn’t get on with Gojo, at this point, and he was definitely a factor in pushing me to look for other options.” 

Toji laughs when I ask him about Satoru Gojo’s move to the newly minted Jujutsu Technical Racing, under Masamichi Yaga’s ownership. “Good luck to the kid. Those types of moves don’t tend to make careers flourish, and Yaga, although a good racer, has no history running an operation like that. It’s not something you can just learn to do overnight… it’s undeniable Gojo is talented, but he’s run from me with his tail between his legs, to another team.” 

Sengoku’s pre-season tests look promising. From one year to the next, they’ve picked up some incredible pace, with times that reportedly compare to the previously dominant Scuderia Keicho. “I can’t comment too much on the development, or the timings, obviously, but we’re optimistic. We’ve made a lot of progress, and we want to be taking the fight to Yuki this year.” 

There were incessant rumours in the paddock and amongst journalists that Fushiguro was being considered for the coveted open Keicho seat in 2010, to replace the departing two-time world champion Choso Itadori. The seat ultimately went to the 2009 Grade Two championship winner Suguru Getou, who drove for the Keicho junior team in G3 and G2, and was a part of their driver development program. Toji smiles when I ask him about it. “Yes, I had some contract talks with them. At the time they seemed keen to have someone experienced alongside Yuki - someone to secure constructors’ championships, be a number two driver who they could rely on, essentially. I would have been happy to fill that role, to take the fight to Yuki and see who comes out on top in equal machinery. But I’m happy where I am - our development has been good, and I can still fight for a championship here.” 

So what are his thoughts on Getou? “Well, he was cheaper, probably,” Toji laughs again, tipping his head back, scratching his head. “I think putting your trust in an unproven rookie as a top team is a risk, but it must be one they’re willing to take.” 

“I wanted to be in his position. So does every driver in the sport. But ultimately these things happen.” 

 

See Comments

 

Gojofan37: This guy just lies! Gojo isn’t running from Toji, he outperformed him and out-qualified him all of last season, and rumours say he was also considered for the Keicho seat BEFORE him!

 

Juliageorgia: Interesting insight, it’ll be good to see a proper title fight this year!

 

Ninelives: Toji insinuating the only reason Getou was signed was because he was cheaper… does he know something we don’t?

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

This week’s form of torture: filming. Lots of it. The social media team allows them one, single, blissful, free day in Hungary before they have to get to work. 

Gojo is honestly grateful for the way they’ve set it up: a full day’s worth of filming, split by a few breaks, and then they’re done, with enough content for them to post sporadically throughout the summer break. Not every team does it like them: Nanami whines every summer about having to go back to doing the pandering stuff in the back half, when it's legal for them to work again. Yaga tries to give as many people as possible the four week break in full, especially the drivers. 

Gojo allows himself one week of half-assing his training and eating nice food, and then spends the next three training like normal every year, though, and he’s sure that most of the drivers don’t get a break from workout schedules or meal plans. Summer break is more of a legal requirement for the engineers, the mechanics, the people who really make the circus tick. 

Megumi wrinkles his nose at the signs that have been placed in front of them, then up at the woman who’s filming and organising the videos. They’re sat on the couch in the Jujutsu motorhome, Megumi in his team gear, and Gojo in an outfit he carefully curated for himself this morning: a deep purple shirt that hangs from his shoulders, showing off hints of his collarbones and all his necklaces, and baggy white cargo pants that balloon outwards at his ankles. It’s hot in Hungary, in almost August, but the air con helps. 

“What’re these?” 

The woman grins, happy and peppy like all social media staff are. “It’s his or his. We’ll ask you a question and you hold the side up that corresponds to who the question applies to,” 

Megumi squints at her. The red light on the camera is already blinking, which means his confusion will probably get added to the B-roll graveyard or a funny candid moments compilation. But regardless, she clarifies, “we’ll ask a question of who is most likely to do something, and you hold up either me, or him. If you match, you get a point.” 

Megumi still looks at the signs like they’ve personally attacked him, but nods. 

“Okay, ready?” The woman smiles, and Gojo gives her a thumbs up. She doesn’t ask him to introduce the game, which definitely means they’re going to leave Megumi’s little confused moment at the beginning in. 

“Okay, who takes the longest to get ready in the morning?” 

Megumi immediately flips the sign to Gojo’s side, and Gojo gasps. “Megs, you took ages this morning!” 

“Still not as long as you,” Megumi raises his eyebrows, turning to address the camera, “I mean, look at what he’s wearing.” 

“It’s about proportions, Megumi.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means that this-” he gestures up and down at himself, “takes a certain level of effort. Maintenance, if you will. The only thing you do is your hair.”

“Okay, who’s more likely to be late?” 

Both of them flip the sign to Gojo’s side. “I can’t argue with that, Megumi is annoyingly punctual.” 

“You were late for this!” 

Gojo flashes the camera a toothy grin. “Sorry,” 

“Who’s the better cook?” 

The challenges are easy to film, easy to participate in. It’s easy to rile Megumi up, make him scowl, make him laugh, even if he tries to hide it. 

In the back of the car on the way back to the hotel, Gojo tips his head back and breathes, stretching his shoulders. Megumi looks at him, then at the driver, and finally speaks, with a low voice. 

“How do you enjoy days like today?” 

“Media days?” Gojo frowns, not opening his eyes. The sunset is bright around them, and the space behind his eye sockets aches. 

He hears Megumi’s hum from beside him. Of agreement, affirmation. 

“They’re fun. It’s all just a bit stupid, isn’t it?” 

“But the things they ask-” Megumi sighs, exasperated, “it’s like they want to know us. I just want to drive. I don’t want them to know me,” 

“You gotta give them something, kid,” Gojo says, “it’s how they decide who to root for.”

“I want them to root for me because I’m a good driver, not cause my dad’s an asshole and they feel sorry for me, or because you like me, or whatever,” 

“Well, you have to be a good driver first, for that,” Gojo grins, peeking an eye open to see Megumi scowling at him, prickly like a cat with its claws out. He sighs, shutting his eyes again. “Look, you either give them something, or they make something up for you. Wouldn’t you rather be in control of it all?” 

Megumi blinks a few times. “I’d rather it be made up.” 

Satoru huffs out a ha, and tilts his head away from the windows, so that he can open his eyes. “The stuff they make up is more real than if you give them an identity to associate with you. ‘Cause it’s taken from all the real moments, the radios, the podiums, cooldown rooms, whatever,” he breathes out, “trust me, I know.” 

Because it might seem like they have less privacy now, with all the cameras and the social media posts and the tweets posted about them. But back in the 2010s, it was worse. 

Looking away, Megumi slumps in his seat. “I just- they ask about our partners, our families. I- what do you say?” 

It’s an open secret on the grid that Gojo is gay. It’s never said explicitly, and there’s a silent level of respect amongst even the worst people there that outing someone would be an objectively horrible thing to do, especially in a sport that isn’t known for its inclusivity. Gojo had never tried to hide it, especially after he became a world champion. 

It’s not an open secret that Nanami is gay, and it’s not an open secret that Megumi is- something, either. It’s just a regular secret, the kind where they have to hold their cards close to their chest and pray nobody finds out. Not everyone is as untouchable as Gojo when it comes to racing. 

“I don’t say anything,” Gojo hums, thinking about reaching out to Megumi. To comfort him, or something. He remembers having this crisis at twenty, twenty-one, again at twenty-two. When he was full of want for his best friend, his peer, later his teammate. 

What do I say if they ask me if I like you? Do I make a joke? Do I tell them part of the truth? Do I lie?

“You don’t have to,” Megumi whips around, exasperated, “because people respect you as a racer. As the Greatest of All Time, Six Eyes, Untouchable, you know. I just- want it to be like that for me. For people to respect me.” 

Gojo swallows, and thinks about the hollow clawing feeling in his chest when he thinks about the things he’s lost to gain the kind of respect he has on the grid now. Thirteen years of his life. His best friend. Someone who he considered a little sister, who he doesn’t think about anymore. 

He doesn’t want Megumi to have to give those things up. 

“This is about Yuuji, isn’t it?” 

Megumi hesitates. Then nods. 

“Do you like him enough to quit racing for him?” 

Frowning, Megumi looks like Gojo had just spit on him, not asked him a simple question. “No.” 

“Then you’ve made your choice. You hold yourself back, or you take a chance on one of the most difficult things you’ll ever do.” 

“Would you have quit? For Getou.” 

Satoru presses his lips together and blinks. “I dunno. He never asked.” 

 

—

 

Thursday comes, and the weekend finally kicks into gear. The tension in the air is palpable: there are several key decisions being made within teams as a result of this weekend’s race, with Yuuji and Yuuta two points apart, and the gap between Nobara and Mai ever-shrinking, the pressure is on. 

Gojo goes into the weekend leading by forty points. Maintaining a lead that big over summer break would be a good thing, for himself and for the team. Historically, a lead like that has been very difficult for opponents to overcome, and it means his seventh championship is within tasting distance. 

But mathematically, forty points can be made up in two races with engine failures, four or five without, as long as his opponent is consistent. 

Both Yuuji and Yuuta have the ability to be consistent, and both of them have the ability to throw themselves at something, put their all into it. Particularly Yuuji. 

So, he’s not safe. 

 

—

 

March 2010, Bahrain

 

Wearing red, and racing in it, Suguru soon learns, is not just coveted in Monza. It’s coveted everywhere. 

Yuki sits him down before they go to media. He’s had all the official training: they’ve prepared him as much as possible. But still, she looks him dead in the eyes, and presses a hand into his shoulder. “Look. I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, but Gojo was offered the seat before you, and he turned it down.” 

Suguru blinks, and swallows. He knew that. Kind of. There were rumours, after all, and Gojo wasn’t exactly subtle, and he’s not an idiot. “Okay.” 

“Just in case a reporter brings it up. So you’re not blindsided,” Yuki smiles, all her teeth on display. “And don’t answer questions about your relationships honestly, yeah kid?” 

All Suguru can do is nod. He doesn’t quite know what she means. He isn’t in a relationship. 

The journalists aren’t interested in talking about Gojo’s supposed contract offer, anyway. Or about his relationships. Instead, they ask him, with smiles, why he has the seat. 

Are you worthy? Is the chance they’re taking on you worth it? Are you worthy? Why didn’t they hire someone with more experience? Are you worthy? Can you outpace Yuki Tsumuko?

You’re replacing a world champion. Will you be world champion? Are you worthy of becoming world champion?

Suguru is seething by the end of it. And he can’t even do anything about it. One of the PR assistants, Chiara, follows him to every interview and press conference, with a recording device in hand. The team says it's so he can’t be misquoted, so they have records of everything, but it still feels like they’re waiting for him to slip up somehow. 

Yuki gives him a knowing look as they’re heading back to the hotel. “Tired?” 

Suguru huffs, “they want me to be Choso.” 

She barks out a laugh in response, a sharp thing that cuts through the air between them. “No. They want you to be better.” 

 

—

 

Gojo Satoru : r u at the plaza hotel

 

Me: yeah

 

Gojo Satoru : room 233 

Gojo Satoru : come ovr. I wna shit talk the reporters

 

—

 

Suguru knows how to be better. He’s done it his whole life. He knows. 

He’s angry at the reporters for saying Keicho only hired him because he was cheap, even though his rookie salary is quadruple what Gojo’s was, and three separate teams, including Sengoku, tried to sign him. He’s angry at Fushiguro, because the man’s an asshole, and has already insinuated on three separate occasions that he should have Suguru’s seat, even though he was outpaced by Satoru all of last season. 

He’s angry his mom isn’t responding to his texts anymore. He’s angry that she probably won’t even watch him race, and he’s angry that his dad isn’t here to watch him race. 

But Suguru lowers himself into the cockpit, breathes in. Holds. Breathes out. 

He knows how to exceed expectations, because his life has depended on it for as long as he can remember. He switches everything he’s feeling off like background noise. He turns it to static. 

He’s here to race. 

So that’s what he’ll do. 

 

—

 

WEEKEND ROUNDUP: Bahrain 2010 / Grade One News

Written by Katie Sanders, 15th March 2010

 

The opening weekend of the 2010 Grade 1 season bought thrills, spills and surprises to kick off a heavily anticipated season. 

It was Scuderia Keicho’s weekend, it seemed: they took a double podium in the Grand Prix on Sunday, with rookie Suguru Getou taking a third place finish in his first ever G1 race, the highest points finish of any first race in G1 history, equalled with Kenjaku. Yuki Tsukumo took second place, only just ahead of her new teammate. “The team is thrilled with him, and so am I,” she said, “we had a lot of people doubting us, our choice to sign him, and he’s given us everything he has, and showed everyone that they were wrong about him. He’s here to stay, and so are we.” 

“I’m pleased, obviously.” Suguru added, “but I want to give more. I have shown the team how capable I can be, and now I want to get my head down and focus, fine tune everything. I can’t wait for Australia.” 

The winner, though, was Sengoku’s Toji Fushiguro, who drove from pole to the win, putting Sengoku on the map for the rest of 2010. “It’s a good feeling, to win, always. We’re finally on top in terms of development, and I will take the fight for the title right to the end, with Yuki.” 

Another surprise was Jujutsu Technical Racing, whose principal duties have been taken over by Yoshinobu Gankuganji. Masamichi, who bought the team late last year, has taken over the job of being Gojo’s race engineer, a job he says he enjoys doing. 

Satoru Gojo finished fourth, with his teammate Mei Meiji behind him in fifth. “We’re optimistic,” he says, “we had much less time and money to develop than the top teams, and we are right behind them in pace. It gives me a good feeling for next year, and for the in-season development this year.” 

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

Gojo doesn’t wear team merch for the media in Hungary. Instead, he wears baggy jeans and designer trainers: a YSL top he was basically paid to wear sometime last year and got to keep. He has a pearl necklace sitting on his collarbones, and a stack of a few hundred bracelets, as is customary for him. 

Luckily for him, the circus is, as always, pretty obsessed with the two point gap between Yuuji and Yuuta. A two point gap which should be bigger, and should go the opposite way, in Gojo’s opinion. Yuuji was fucked over in Canada, and has one extra DNF, and still leads from Yuuta. 

But clearly Yuuji isn’t allowed to say that, because every time Gojo crosses over with him in the media pen, or in the paddock, he has gritted teeth, or a smile on his face, and is pretending to be gracious about the whole thing. But right now is do or die, and Yuuji wants the WDC shot more than anyone else, he thinks. Probably more than Yuuta.

Almost definitely more than Yuuta: the hunger for your first outweighs everything else. 

Gojo shares a press conference with Yuuta, who calmly explains that they’re even on points and he will race hard, but fair. The reporters, unfortunately, catch Gojo’s eyebrow raise at that comment, and he has to explain away his amusement. 

In a way, he wishes he could watch from the garage, be a fan, get excited about the whole thing. They’re getting a treat this year: a three-way battle for the title with a pair of teammates at each other’s throats and a record about to be broken. 

All three of them have something to prove. 

For Yuuta it’s about making sure everyone knows his win wasn’t a fluke. It’s about proving himself consistent, reliable, a championship contender for all time and not just once. 

For Yuuji it’s the first. Which means proving yourself against all odds, at any cost. I’m here. I can win a championship. I can win races, I can fight with claws and teeth and come out on top. 

For Gojo, it’s proving he’s the best there will ever be. The greatest of all time. Untouchable. 

Satoru’s been untouchable for years, really, since his fifth championship, or his fourth, or his sixth. But now he wants the silverware to match. See, I’m better than Sukuna, and I didn’t die for it, like he did. 

He’s asked more questions about what he thinks of the Keicho than the development of his own car, which is both infuriating and a great relief. He wants to talk to anyone who will listen about how they’ve shaved a tenth by changing something minor in the front wing, how the downforce is different this weekend, how the car is dynamic, breathing with him out on the track. 

But if they don’t ask, they won’t know, and the element of surprise, come Friday, when the first free practice session kicks into gear, is always better than how it feels bragging to the media. 

But Gojo doesn’t end that session at the top of the times. 

Yuuji does. 

And then Yuuji finishes free practice two in first, too. 

 

—

 

Partly as a joke, Gojo shoulders his way through the crowd, flagging down Yuuji’s car like a married woman saying goodbye to her husband on a train station platform. The exit from the the track is lined with fans, and Gojo’s sure that this moment will be posted to twitter and instagram a million times over, so he plays it up, scrabbling at the door as Yuuji laughs, letting him in.

They’re in the same hotel this weekend, and Gojo had missed the car with Megumi earlier, so he really does need a lift back. The driver won’t be back for him for at least another hour. 

He laughs as he bends down to get in the back, tripping over himself as the car moves away. Then he realises he’s made a mistake. 

Because Getou is also in the car. 

“Oh,” Gojo says, eloquently. 

“Oh, indeed,” Getou replies. As he does, he gives Gojo a very obvious once-over, eyes trailing down his body- and- 

Listen, Gojo might be a bit shit at reading people, but he’s not completely fucking blind, which he would hace to be, to miss that .

He’s not even wearing anything nice. It’s a pair of faded, baggy jeans that he’s owned since his junior days, a loose top that’s designer, but not overly expensive and not obvious about the fact that it’s designer, either. 

He looks down at the red fabric, and then back at Getou, who doesn’t even look remotely ashamed at being caught. He just shrugs, “red suits you,” 

“Oh piss off, no it doesn’t,” Yuuji crows, “it clashes with your eyes,” 

It’s easy, then, for Gojo to gasp, overdramatic and loud, look affronted, huff about how Yuuji’s wrong. It’s easier than looking at Getou, who laughs softly behind his palm and shakes his head as he looks out the window. 

“You drove well, today,” Gojo says, trying to get Yuuji to start talking about the laps, the track, the grip. Once he starts talking, he never stops. It’s useful. For trying to get team secrets, and useful for avoiding the new type of tension present in the car. 

“Oh- did you have the same slip through turn-” 

“Yuuji.” Getou cuts him off, “we don’t talk to the competition about where to find grip.” 

“Aw, come on, he already knows,” Yuuji says, gesturing wildly, “look at him!” 

Gojo does already know. He knows the track inside out. He’s raced here every year for thirteen seasons. This will be his fourteenth time at the track, and he has a ton more experience here than Yuuji. Everything that Yuuji could tell him, he already knows, has confirmed ten times over. 

Getou sighs, “you need to get into good habits. Not talking to your direct competitors about how you’re going to exploit track conditions before the race is one of them.” 

Yuuji huffs and leans back, “I wasn’t doing that.” 

“Yeah, you were,” Gojo adds on, “but it’s fine. I probably do know anything you can tell me anyway.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re old,” Yuuji grins with all his teeth, wild with enthusiasm. “Besides, you two are being hypocrites, telling me not to talk to the enemy, I thought you two couldn’t be in a room together,” 

Getou shrugs, “we’re friends. I don’t tell him about the car,” 

No, you just tell me about team politics and how you like Yuuji and who’s faster going into a weekend- “Yeah, he doesn’t tell me anything about the team.” 

“You’re friends?” Raising an eyebrow, Yuuji looks between the two of them, “since when?” 

Gojo will let Getou answer this one. He’s not gonna embarrass himself by saying something like longer than I’ve been a driver . 

“Monaco, I guess,” Suguru says, soft. Well, not quite soft. Just fuzzy around the edges, because Monaco could be- 

Well. It could be any time in the entire time they’ve known each other. But Yuuji doesn’t know that, so he nods sagely, because Getou means Monaco this year , and Satoru is going insane. “Well, since you two are friends again, do you wanna come karting with us, Gojo?” 

“Karting?” Gojo thinks out loud, “what?” 

“For one of his videos,” Getou adds, “I don’t understand it myself to be honest.” 

“ You’re gonna go karting?” 

“Yes.” Getou smiles, “why? Do you think I lost the ability to drive when I retired? 

Yuuji starts to count on his fingers. “It’s also gonna be Nobara, ‘Gumi, Maki, Nanami, if I can convince him ‘cause he doesn’t live in Monaco, Inumaki, Todou, maybe Haibara, if his legs are okay- do you know anything about that, by the way?” 

Gojo swallows. “No.” Yuuji doesn’t catch the lie. 

“Right, oh and Junpei, I think. That should be it.” 

“Quite the group you’ve got together there,” grinning, Gojo leans back against the seats. In his peripherals, he sees Getou’s gaze follow the lines of his throat. He tilts his head back further.

“I know, it’s gonna get so many views,” Yuuji says, proudly, “so you’ll come?” 

“Sure.” Gojo says, “it’ll be fun. You doing it over summer break?” 

“Yeah, I dunno where yet, but I’ll let you know. Probably in France somewhere. Maybe we’ll fly to England,” 

Getou scoffs beside him, “he should be paying us. For our time.” 

“You pay me my wages,” Yuuji scoffs, “that’s like, stupid. Counter– counter…” 

“Counterintuitive?” Getou laughs, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Yuuji narrows his eyes. “Yeah. That.” 

The car pulls to a halt outside the hotel, and Yuuji’s head snaps to the side as he looks out the window. “Oh. Do you know Megumi’s room number?” 

“I’m not telling it to you,” 

“I wanna surprise him.” 

“After the race,” Getou says, then, levelling a look at his driver that even makes Gojo shiver slightly. “Go and relax, sleep, and be up early tomorrow.” 

“I can relax with Megumi.” Yuuji says, looking at Gojo with puppy-dog eyes. “Come on,” 

Giving in, Gojo sighs. “It’s 65.” 

“Yes!” Yuuji pumps his fist once, and leans over to hug Gojo briefly, before clambering out of the car all in a rush. “I’ll see you in the morning, Getou, bright and early, promise!”

And then he’s gone. 

And Satoru and Suguru are alone in the car. 

“Now why did you tell him that,”

“They’re not fucking,” Gojo shrugs, “if they watch TV together, who cares?”

Getou almost chokes on his own spit, then laughs, “I don’t need to know!”

They both hop out of the car, and Getou nods his thanks to the driver as he pulls away. 

“You liked gossip more than me, back when we were racing!” 

Getou’s face does something weird and he looks a little guilty. “We were the gossip back then, Satoru.” When Gojo frowns at him, goes to open his mouth and protest, Getou sighs, “paddock and otherwise. I can’t gossip about them. It feels a little-” 

“Wrong? We’re harmless, Getou, come on, we’re not pressuring. We can just- talk.” 

And reminisce, maybe, at the same time. The two go hand-in-hand, after all. Look how stupid they are! Remember how stupid we were? How stupid I was?

Getou stops dead in his tracks. “You called me Getou,” 

That’s- not. Um. What?

“That’s your name.” 

“It’s so formal.” Getou whines, “I never call you Gojo, I thought we were friends again.” 

“You used to call me Gojo all the time,” Gojo protests, “I thought you were making fun of me, calling me Satoru,” 

Getou blinks, shaking his head and smiling softly, too tender for the moment, all of a sudden. “Never.” 

“Do you want to come up?” Gojo blurts, and Getou nods. 

 

—

 

From then on, it’s all over. 

 

—

 

May 2010, Spain

 

Suguru thinks that this might be the first time in all their lives that, honest-to-God, hand-over-fist, he is beating Satoru. Satoru says it’s just the car, but Suguru worked really fucking hard to get a shot in this car, and he thinks it’s a reward for his success, actually. So. 

Being in different teams means they don’t see each other as much as he’d like, but now they’re on the same grid. Which means they overlap, and it’s effortless. 

Standing, hidden from the crowds, shoulder to shoulder waiting for the drivers’ parade, talking in Japanese because most of the rest of the grid doesn’t understand it. 

Sitting next to each other in the post-race briefings, where Suguru should probably be sitting next to his teammate, but elects to knock knees together with Satoru instead. In China, they share a look that makes them both laugh so hard they get scolded by Tengen. 

They get paired together for a press conference in Malaysia, and when Satoru is asked if Sengoku’s improved performance this year makes him think he made the wrong decision, Suguru answers for him, tells the reporter to stuff it, in a more polite way. 

He gets crucified by the PR team for that, but Satoru’s little muffled thank you in the crook of his neck as they hugged after made it worth it. 

 

—

 

Suguru comes second in Spain. It’s his fifth podium in as many races, and his third P2. Keicho’s car is brilliant, and it drives like a dream, and he’s getting used to the touch of understeer that makes it efficient through the corners. 

He climbs on top of the car, raises a hand to the sky, and thinks yeah, this is what I can do! You underestimated me and I’ve not been off the podium yet! 

It’s a sensational debut. Everyone is saying so. 

And in Spain, he beats Yuki for the first time. He’d qualified above her, and held position, and bought it home. Unfortunately, that means Toji wins, and he hates sharing the podium with the man, and so does Yuki, but at least the feeling is mutual for all three of them. 

The other win of the weekend is that Satoru comes in P4: his highest finish for JTR, and JTR’s highest finish in general. Mei Mei had only managed P8 in the same car. Satoru’s proving his worth, his talent. 

Shoko is in town too, for the race, and they manage to get her into the private party that Keicho is throwing to celebrate the double podium. Satoru manages to just walk in, because everyone knows him and his dad was royalty, and so is he. By association. 

“I’m your arm candy tonight,” Satoru jokes, shouting in his ear as they walk in. The music is loud, but they buy drinks and then everything is buzzing in his brain, soft and welcoming. 

The three of them dance together. Satoru buys the most disgusting shots known to man and then ends up force feeding Suguru three of them because Shoko refuses to drink more than one. 

A man comes over who Suguru vaguely recognises from the garage, and loops an arm around Satoru’s shoulders, and speaks lowly to him. Suguru can barely make out the words. 

Satoru smiles up at him, and gestures to Suguru and Shoko, and the man shakes his head. Stepping forward, Satoru shouts into Suguru’s ear, “I’ll be back in a bit!” 

And then he disappears with the man. 

Shoko laughs, “here we go,” and they go to get more drinks. Dance a bit more. Then Shoko remembers Utahime is here, and that she hasn’t congratulated her for her first points, yet, and she disappears, and it is only then that Suguru thinks he hasn’t seen Satoru in a while. 

So he goes looking. It takes a while to find him, because the venue is kinda big and the floor is swimming with all the alcohol Suguru’s drank tonight. 

He sees him, though, a flash of white hair in the dark, and smiles because he’s found him, and then he stops dead. 

Because Satoru is being kissed, backed up against the wall, a few of his shirt buttons undone, by the same guy as before, and Suguru, with a jolt, realises he’s one of the mechanics. One of the men who does his pit stops. His stomach churns. 

He doesn’t know the man’s name, but he’s in his thirties. Today, he was showing another mechanic a photo of his one-year-old daughter on his phone before the race, telling him he was missing her. And his wife.

Suguru can’t hear the little breathy noise Satoru makes underneath him, but he can see it in the frown of his eyebrows, the slight part of his lips. Envy rips through him, sharp and reckoning, but he quells it just as quickly. Because he wouldn’t want it like this. He’d want it private and safe and just them. This man is taking him apart where anyone could see, endangering his career, and Suguru is boiling. 

He thinks about intervening, and then Satoru tilts his whole head back, relief crossing his features, and the man’s hand is- and he’s looking at Suguru, and Suguru does the only thing he can. 

He turns tail and runs. 

The cold night air hits him like a freight train, as does the memory of what the man said, earlier. You did good out there today, kid.  

Suguru feels ill. 

Do you want a couple lines? My treat.

Suguru might actually, genuinely throw up. He thinks darkly that maybe throwing up would be good, because there’s probably a ton of calories he shouldn’t have in the mixers he’s been consuming tonight. 

Can my friends come with?

He crouches down, leaning against the wall and breathing, in, out. 

No, just us, I’ve only got a bit. I promise it’ll be good, though.

“Suguru?” Yuki’s voice is joyous, and Suguru looks up to see her looking straight at him, glee written all over her face. “You enjoying yourself?” 

Vaguely, he recognises Choso is here, too, and Yuki is holding a cigarette. “You smoke? That’s bad for you,” 

“Ha, only when I’m drinking, it’s okay,” Yuki laughs, kneeling down beside him. “You enjoying your party?” 

The cold air is sobering, but not sobering enough to prevent Suguru from blurting, “I just saw Satoru with one of our mechanics,” 

At first, Yuki’s tone is placid. “Well yeah, that’s what happens at a party-” and then, mid-sentence, she shifts, “-oh, with ?” 

Suguru nods, and Yuki hisses through her teeth. “Christ.” 

Choso chips in then, talking to his old teammate as if Suguru isn’t there. “Wait, how old is he?” 

“They’re the same age. He’s freshly twenty.” 

Suguru has shut his eyes to try and ward off his nausea, but he still hears the suck of air through Choso’s teeth as Yuki rubs circles into his back. 

“There’s been rumours about it since he was a rookie,” Choso grits out, “he was eighteen?” 

“I know you have your head in the sand but seriously? That’s all they had to say about him, was that he was young.” 

“I thought he was in his early twenties,” Choso huffs, “young is a loose term.” 

Yuki carries on petting between his shoulder blades. It’s comforting, soft, and Suguru lowers his head between his knees, and cries. 

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

For most of their careers, for most of their lives, Suguru and Satoru didn’t exist without each other. In Gojo’s absence from the lower grades, the reporters asked Getou no end of questions about his career in G1, insights into his performances, their friendship, everything. 

And in turn, Gojo remembers being asked about Getou, boy wonder, rookie sensation, the most potential to grace the paddock in years. To this day, he holds the record for the most dominant G3 and G2 seasons in history, even though Yuuji came close to the record in 2020. 

Yuuji skipped G3, anyway. 

So Gojo had talked to any reporter who asked about his friend. Told them he couldn’t wait to race against him, that he was a worthy rival, that he’d be a good teammate. 

He was wrong on one of those things, but the rest he was right about. 

And, to this day, Gojo and Getou are the greatest pairing of drivers to have existed in the sport. Their dominance, statistically, was unmatched. In the three years they were paired together, Jujutsu Tech was untouchable. Even in 2012, where Gojo and Yuki shared a bitter fight right until the last race for the driver’s championship, Getou had helped Jujutsu Tech secure the constructors’ by a comfortable margin. Against Keicho. And an utterly dominant, prime Yuki Tsukumo. 

Gojo-and-Getou, Suguru-and-Satoru. Hyphenated. They were a duo, even before they were teammates, even before they were in the same grade. 

In karting, nipping at each other’s heels. Sharing podiums, sharing their motorhomes, sharing their summers. 

And then, all of a sudden, they were nothing. For seven years. 

Now Getou is sitting in the same room, and they’re watching a shitty horror that definitely doesn’t make Gojo want to cower in the corner of the couch and hide his face behind his hands. Getou keeps criticising the special effects, but they still make Gojo’s heart race. 

Among other things. 

Getou looks good. Better, maybe, than he did seven years ago. He’s filled out in all the right places, his jaw is sharp, his eyebags are even sexy, and that might be a new low for Gojo. 

Here, in his hotel room, it’s impossible to not think about. His hands on him. Even fleetingly. Just for a few seconds. Then he’d know what it felt like. He’d solve one of his life’s great mysteries.

But then again, if he experienced it once, he’s sure he’d want it again, and again, and again. And he can’t have it if he still wants to race. 

If he wins his seventh, the decision is made for him. He’ll have nothing left to achieve. He’ll be undoubtedly the greatest of all time, and then he can move on to other things. Maybe then, he can think about it. 

But he can’t have it now. 

 

—

 

May 2010, Monaco

 

Monaco is in a double-header with Spain, which means that they have precisely two days’ rest before they’re back in the paddock. 

The only saving grace is that Monaco is so close to Spain that they don’t have to spend long at all travelling, and Yuki lets him stay in her spare room, because Monaco is where she lives when they’re not travelling across the globe to race cars for a living. 

Suguru technically has enough money, now, to be able to live in Monaco himself. Satoru keeps whining about it, but he isn’t sure if he should move. He also knows he can’t live in the Gojo estate forever, though. He’s outstayed his welcome. 

His mom isn’t talking to him very often anymore either, so going home to Japan is out of the question. 

He needs to build something for himself. Maybe he can find somewhere nice in Italy, near headquarters. 

Over coffee, on her kitchen island, Yuki sighs. “Just so you know, I’ve had Antonio moved to my side of the garage.” 

Suguru frowns: a question. Yuki raises her eyes to the ceiling. “I tried to have him fired, for misconduct, or whatever. But he’s relatively reliable, good at his job, and trying to find another mechanic mid-season is pretty tough, so. And apparently fucking someone half your age is perfectly acceptable because it’s a personal decision, or whatever.” 

Oh. Antonio . “Right.” 

“So, I asked to have them swap him with someone on my side. I’ll find an excuse to have him fired at the end of the season.” 

Suguru blinks at her. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m just- he’s fine. He’s been doing this with older- whoever- for a while. I knew about it, it was just a shock to actually see it.” 

Yuki snorts, fond. Suguru isn’t sure how this happened. “I fucking bet. But he’s thirty five, and he has a child, and Gojo isn’t exactly mature or self-aware enough to realise that it’s a horrific idea for both of them. He shouldn’t be doing it.” 

Suguru swallows around his words. He’s not admitting his flash of jealousy. Never. “If it’s what Satoru wants- I mean-” he thinks back to the way he tilted his head back, relieved. Sated. 

“Gojo isn’t old enough to know what he wants.” Yuki barks out a laugh, “he’s in love with you, and instead, he’s messing about with guys almost twice his age.” 

Suguru cannot believe that he is having this conversation. Is Satoru that obvious? Is he that obvious?

Yuki takes a sip of her coffee. “Oh, did you not realise?” 

“No, I- yeah. I know he is. Probably. So am I- um. Probably.” 

Yuki breathes out a quick little hah , and sips her coffee again. “Probably?” 

“I don’t know- I’ve known him since I was seven.” 

“I was wondering if you were as much of an idiot as him. It seems you aren’t.” 

“I’m not completely blind.” Suguru says, “but you know, it wouldn’t work. So.” 

Yuki twists her lips, “yeah, you’re not wrong.” 

 

—

 

As soon as they get into the paddock, Satoru won’t stop going on about his failed conquest in Spain. Because, apparently: “Choso interrupted us! And he was a dick about it, too,”

One of the things that Suguru has had to adjust to is the sheer amount of cameras everywhere in G1 compared to G2. There’s barely a moment of privacy, and there’s a camera trailing them now, as they walk through towards the media pen. There’s no microphones anywhere that Suguru can see, at least,  but it still makes him nervous to be talking about this right out in the open. Even if they’re speaking in Japanese, which most of the personnel around them won’t speak. 

“How old is this guy?” Suguru deflects, even though he already knows. But he doesn’t really want to tell Satoru that he’s the one who ended up in tears outside, and he’s probably the reason Choso went back in to pull the guy off of him. 

“Dunno. Old,” Satoru’s face does something that’s half a smile, half a wince. “But it’s better when they’re older than me- stop looking at me like that.” 

“Looking at you like what?” Suguru grins, bumping shoulders with him as he groans. 

“Like you think I’m an idiot,” 

“I do think you’re an idiot. One day a jealous wife is going to kill you,” 

“Oh come on, they’re not gonna kill me. I’m Gojo.” He says, catlike. “It’s like- I know they don’t want commitment. I went on a date with like, one guy my age, and he practically wanted my babies! Oh, I wanna commit to you, I’ll make it good, whatever. And he was average at best anyway.” 

Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, “Satoru-” 

But Satoru continues, waving his hands about, “it’s a win-win. I get to have fun and I don’t have to give anything back because they’re preoccupied with their ten kids and picket fence life or whatever. You wouldn’t know anything about that because you’re a prude. ” 

Suguru feels himself go bright red all the way down to his chest, because he does not want to think about what he saw in the club, and he didn’t want to see his best friend looking like that, at all. Ever. But he’s thinking about it now, and-

“Okay, I’m not a prude,” 

“You’ve never even kissed anyone.” 

“Yes, I have,” Suguru pretends to be offended, and inwardly searches for the right thing to say. 

“What, when?! You never told me-” 

“It was after I won in Spa, last year.” It makes sense to say Spa, because Satoru hadn’t come out with him, whisked away to the hotel, and the Keicho afterparty was a private affair that night. He wouldn’t know if it had happened or not. Which it didn’t. 

“What? Who!” When Suguru struggles for a name, Satoru’s eyes go wide, “wait, it wasn’t Yuki, was it?” 

“No- fuck’s sake-”

“‘Cause if it was, that’s so bad, she’s so old-”

 “Okay, you’re one to talk. It was- I don’t remember her name.” 

He can almost picture it in his mind’s eye: a girl, soft, pretty, him pressing her to the bar. He probably could have had something like that, if he was even remotely interested. If he hadn’t long since turned off the desire he holds inside his body and placed it somewhere else, somewhere safer. Racing takes up a lot of space, after all. 

Satoru grins like a cat, sharp and brilliant, and any other time, Suguru would commit it to memory, feel his heart getting light in his chest over it. Now, he just wants to die on the spot. 

“You don’t remember her name? Suguru, you-” 

“Don’t. Not right before press-” 

“Okay, so some other time, got it.” Satoru is already on his phone, typing rapidly. 

“And don’t text Shoko about it either. She already knows.” 

Rolling his eyes, Satoru pockets his phone. “Boring,” 

 

—

 

Me: If Satorj asks I kissd a gil in spa last yr

Me: And I told u abt it 

 

Shoko ⋆ : Jesus there’s even typos in this one

Shoko ⋆ : do i ask?

 

Me: No. 

 

Shoko ⋆ : alright!

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

In the third free practice, Yuuji and Gojo are separated by less than half a tenth. And it’s not going the way that Gojo wants it to. 

But the pressure of qualifying always seems to bring out an extra level of pace that he can’t unlock in free practices, so he’s hopeful. The trouble is that Yuuji usually works the same way. 

When they pass in the paddock, Getou taps his shoulder, whispering a good luck to him. Gojo isn’t necessarily sure if he should be wishing good luck to his drivers’ biggest competitor, but he’ll take it. 

He lowers himself into the cockpit. His helmet is in front of him, to be left until the last second to be put on. 

Someone passes him his gloves: his steering wheel. Showtime. 

 

—

 

Q1 goes as expected. P2 and P4 for Gojo and Megumi, which is perfectly fine and respectable, and they only use one new set of softs to do it. 

In Q2, Megumi gets knocked out courtesy of a yellow flag that is timed perfectly on his last flying lap, but Gojo and Yuuji are, again, neck and neck for a pole position, with Yuuta right behind in P3. 

In Q3, it all goes wrong. 

The weather has been steadily changing for the last half an hour, but going into Q3, it picks up enough that the track is damp, but definitively not wet enough for a change of tyres, so the plan becomes simple: 

Get out as quickly as possible, set a fast time on the new softs, and then watch as the track conditions get worse and everyone else struggles to match it. 

“Rain projected to worsen in five minutes,” Shoko says, through his earpiece, “we’re going out as quickly as possible,” 

“Copy.” 

Gojo switches to rain mode. In the grand scheme of things, they don’t race in the wet very much at all: the calendar is designed specifically so that they avoid as much rain as possible, because it makes for slower racing. 

And it’s more dangerous, but it’s long been established that the higher-ups don’t care about the drivers’ safety all that much. 

But still, it’s a skill that every driver has to have. And Gojo knows he’s good in the wet. In his out lap, he looks, feels for the places that have the most grip, not necessarily the racing lines. He thought that other teams would copy their strategy, but he can’t see anyone around him. 

“Where’s Yuuji?” He asks Shoko. 

“He’s still in the garage. Keep your head down.” 

The lap around the Hungaroring is slower than what Gojo would like, but it can’t be helped. He very almost loses the car through turn five to a snap of oversteer, and grits his teeth through every braking zone expecting something to go wrong. 

But it doesn’t, because Gojo is good at this. Arguably one of the best drivers on the current grid in wet conditions. 

He crosses the line, begins to head around to make his way back to the pits, and allows himself to breathe. 

“Provisional pole,” Shoko says, “how are conditions out there?” 

“Getting worse,” Gojo grits out, hoarse, and he can feel water beginning to fall on his hands and his steering wheel, now, “I don’t think I could do another lap on dry tyres,” 

“Copy,” Shoko replies back, and he can hear the tension in her voice, “box and pit confirm?” 

“Yeah.” 

A flash of red starts to get larger in his wing mirrors, and Gojo pulls away from the racing line to let the Keicho past, and he sees in full, striking HD as the car in front loses control into turn five in the distance, and spins headlong into the barriers. 

“Who was that?” He asks Shoko, “in the Keicho?” 

“Itadori-” comes her voice, fuzzy, but Gojo is already pulling up and slowing down to try and get a clear view of where the impact was made. It is Yuuji’s car: he can see his number, the bright pink of his helmet lulled in the cockpit. 

Then he sees smoke. 

He’s out of his own car before he can think much about it, sprinting towards the vehicle, because Yuuji isn’t moving, and the stewards aren’t moving fast enough to get him out in time. 

Perhaps they can’t see the smoke, but he’s running, waving at them, shouting out, “extinguishers!” 

He skids to a stop in front of the cockpit, and he’s right: Yuuji is barely conscious, and Gojo can hear him groan as he hooks his hands underneath his armpits and pulls. 

Yuuji huffs beneath him, and then, suddenly, seems to wake up. “Shit- smoke-” 

“Yeah, come on, get out-” 

He scrabbles away with Gojo, stumbling over the halo as they pull back from the car, which, at the rear end, is now fully on fire. 

“Are you okay?” Gojo says, breathless, as Yuuji flips his visor up and swears. 

“Fuck, my ribs, man,” 

“What happened? That’s not a high speed corner, how did you-” 

“My brakes are fucked.” Yuuji says, still breathing heavily, “I couldn’t slow down, and I was probably going a bit too fast anyway, trying to beat your time.” 

They stand, in the rain, watching the stewards spray Yuuji’s car with fire extinguishers, and then Yuuji collapses all his weight against Gojo, “fuck. Getou’s gonna kill me, I fucked that one up.” 

“If Getou doesn’t kill you, the mechanics might.” Gojo laughs, and Yuuji groans again. 

“My ribs, man, seriously, where’s the medical car?” 

Gojo lets him lean on him until it gets there.

 

—

 

May 2010, Monaco

 

On Saturday, Yuki qualifies on pole, and Suguru matches her pace for a P2 start: a front-row lockout for Keicho. Of course, because of the nature of overtaking in Monaco, it puts them in a perfect position for a double podium, and the bosses are thrilled. 

The real surprise, though, is that Fushiguro won’t start right behind them, like he has at the last few races. Instead, Satoru managed what everyone is calling a sensational lap, which put him in P3, his first top three qualification in Jujutsu Tech, and a shot at a podium finish. 

When they get back into parc ferme, Satoru lets himself be picked up, petted all over by the engineers and Yaga and the team, and then he runs to Suguru and practically jumps on him. 

They laugh together and Suguru can barely keep a straight face as they sit next to each other in the press conference afterward, with his eyebrows twitching as he feels Satoru kick him under the table again. 

 

—

 

Racing in Grade One anywhere is a different beast to Grade Two, but Monaco feels particularly different to last year. Suguru has to take deep breaths on the grid as the cameras swarm, and when Satoru pats his waist reassuringly as he passes, he has to tense to stomach it. There’s a lot of people here congratulating him on his season so far, and a lot of people wanting to talk to him when all he wants to do is race. 

He lines up at the start, flexes his hands on the steering wheel, and prays. 

The red lights blink out. Suguru gets his foot on the throttle. 

And he passes Yuki into turn one. 

 

—

 

Winning in Monaco is-

Winning is-

It’s- 

Suguru doesn’t have words. They left him as he climbed from the cockpit, screaming as he stood atop the car, with world champion Yuki Tsukumo pulling in alongside him. Behind him. 

The team grabs at him and slaps his helmet, pulling at the fabric of his suit, screaming their approval at him. Yuki is immediately by his side, rocking him hard from side to side and yelling at him. “Your first win, Suguru! Yes!” 

Satoru holds on for third. It’s his first podium with Jujutsu Tech, and his first podium this season, and he doesn’t even go to his team. He runs straight to Suguru, pulling his visor up, beaming under the helmet, screaming, “we’re on the podium together, you and me! Suguru, you fucking won in Monaco!”

 

—

 

Transcript for post-race press conference, top three finishers, Monaco Grand Prix 2010 - hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

(EDITORS’ NOTE: Suguru Getou and Satoru Gojo have the same initials, so in this transcript, will be referred to by Surname rather than initials)

 

Q: Welcome to our top three finishers: in third, with his first podium for Jujutsu Technical Racing, Satoru Gojo, in second, Yuki Tsukumo, and in first, winning his first ever Grand Prix, Suguru Getou! Congratulations Suguru, how does it feel?

SUGURU GETOU : I- I am sorry, English is so hard right now. I feel so incredible, this is- this is better than I ever could have imagined. 

Q: Of course, you’re just six races into your G1 career, and you’ve managed a win where most rookies struggle to score points. How have you managed to adapt so quickly?

GETOU : A lot of testing, first of all. And Yuki has helped me massively to understand the car, and I’ve been working hard to prove myself. The car is brilliant, too. 

Q: Moving on, Yuki! You’re on an incredible run of form right now, leading the championship, and another podium here. Are you thinking about the championship, yet?

YUKI TSUKUMO : We’re all thinking about it, but I don’t think it's a certainty yet. Suguru could well challenge me from within the team, and there’s Toji to worry about too. 

Q: Of course, Getou caught you off turn one, were there any issues with the car at the start?

[Note: there is a long pause before Tsukumo answers]

YT : Oh, you’re serious? No, I just had a slower reaction. But asking me to effectively undermine my teammate’s win is a strange line to take. 

Q: Moving on, Gojo, your first podium with your new team, and their first ever podium in G1, too. How does it feel?

SATORU GOJO : Incredible. I know we have a lot of work to do, of course, here overtaking is harder and Toji would have likely got me on any other circuit, but I did what I could and our quali pace was definitely motivating. 

Q: Speaking of Toji, the contact you two made in lap fifty forced him down the order. Any insight on it?

GOJO : Yeah, he was pulling dangerous moves when the racing lines weren’t his. The contact is his own fault, he got a penalty for it. That’s all there is to it. 

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

Late on Saturday night, Gojo is woken up by knocking on his hotel door. It’s quite insistent, really. Eventually, when the sound doesn’t stop, he drags himself out of bed, shirtless, in pyjama bottoms, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Where’s the fire?” 

Getou stands on the threshold of his hotel room, cheeks flushed, and breathes out once, as he looks up and down Gojo’s chest, “thank you for today.” 

Gojo is immediately awake. He’s Awake. Eyes Wide Open. “What?”

“For Yuuji. I know- drivers don’t die, anymore, like that, but-” Suguru takes a deep, steadying breath. “You got him out. And the stewards would have helped him, of course, but the smoke-” he passes a hand across his face, then looks at Satoru dead on. “Thank you.” 

“I would’ve done it for anyone.” That much is true. Even if Zenin was in the wall with smoke pouring out, he would’ve gone. 

“It doesn’t mean I can’t thank you. He’s my driver, and you did something for him that he’ll be grateful for for a long time.” 

“Is he racing tomorrow?” 

“Yes,” Getou says, hissing air through his teeth, “I can’t work out if it’s the right decision.” 

Doubt is a powerful force. Powerful enough to bring Suguru Getou to Satoru’s door late at night. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

Suguru nods.

 

—

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : u may hav saved me from burning today

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: thank u gojo

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : can u tell getou to lemme race tmrw

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: pretty pls

 

Me: yuuji u might hav 2 sit this 1 out

Me: r ur ribs bruised

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : yeh but like last race b4 summer break

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: if i sit out theyll make yuuta no1 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : and if he goes against u he’s gna loose

 

Me: gr8 faith in ur teammate yuuji

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆: u kno its tru 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : getou knows its tru 2 but he has his hands tied 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : pls?

 

—

 

May 2010, Monaco

 

They pose for pictures in the beginnings of the sunset, holding the trophies, grinning wild. Suguru can’t believe this is real. He asks Satoru to smack him in the face on their way down, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. 

“I wanna jump in,” Satoru says. His hair is sticking up all over the place and his suit is zipped down just below his collarbone. The champagne suits him well. The sweat suits him well. Driving, being on podiums, suits him well. 

“We can’t,” Suguru says, laughing slightly, because is he serious? The pool isn’t that deep. They’ll both be tall enough to stand up in it. 

“Says who?” Satoru grins, cheeks flushed, lips parted- and that’s enough of that train of thought! 

“Me, I don’t wanna get wet, we’re still in our race suits.” 

“So? We have a million of them! Who cares!” 

“You can jump in,” Suguru laughs, waving his hands at the water, “be my guest,” 

Satoru looks at him for a moment, and Suguru sees it, what everyone sees when they look at them. The bright eyes, the endless affection, the love. He feels it filling the cavities in his chest. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder it, because Satoru’s body slams against his and they careen into the pool, and the sunlight is in his eyes, and he thinks this might be the lightest he’s ever felt. 

“Satoru! I was distracted!” 

 

—

 

July 2022, Hungary

 

Yuuji makes the decision to race the next day. Because of the red flags in Q3, he starts from tenth on the grid, where his teammate starts P3, behind Gojo and Megumi. Yeah, it’s not exactly ideal if he wants to leave this weekend ahead in the points. 

Getou makes it clear that it’s Yuuji’s decision, not the team’s, and refuses to say he endorses it. It’s a risk he didn’t want to take, but Yuuji is determined to race, to prove himself, and when the kid has his mind set on something, it really can’t be changed. 

So he races. And then he gets shunted going into turn one, along with about four other drivers, by Mei Mei, and he’s in the barriers for the second time in two days. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race Interview with Yuuji Itadori, Hungarian Grand Prix 2022 - G1TV

 

Q: Yuuji, a shame to see you back here so early. It just hasn’t been your weekend, has it?

YUUJI ITADORI : No, it hasn’t. 

Q: What happened out there?

YI : Uh, what happened is that I made up about four places off the line, then got shunted by Mei Mei, and about five cars went spinning.

Q: How are you feeling after your crash yesterday, too? 

YI : A bit ****, to be honest. So is that all the questions, or?

 

—

 

Getou congratulates him in parc ferme along with everyone else, palm splayed out over the side of his helmet with a tired smile. His driver is in second, separated by a gap of fifteen seconds. 

They both know Yuuji could’ve gotten closer, from much further back. 

“Swing by Keicho after, I think Yuuji could use you right now.” 

Gojo wants to protest. He wants to say hey, I’m shit at comforting people, and you, out of everyone here, should know that. I’m not a good friend, I struggle to find the right words, I’d be out of my depth there. 

“Okay,” is what he says instead, into the depths of parc ferme, glad that no one can read his lips under his helmet. 

So, after all the celebrations are done, he slips into Keicho’s motorhome, finds Yuuji in his driver’s room. The picture isn’t pretty, to say the least. Yuuji is on his couch, staring up at the ceiling, breathing in and out slowly, mechanically. 

“Hi, Gojo,” 

“You okay?” It’s worth noting he really doesn’t know how to do this. How to deal with the disappointment, the way Yuuji looks right now. 

“Well, it’s summer break isn’t it?” Yuuji sits up, and winces, hissing under his breath. 

“Your ribs?” 

Yuuji nods, “it really hurts, man. But if I go to medical they’ll wanna X-ray it and-” 

“They haven’t already?” Gojo is bewildered by this. The level of safeguarding in place- Yuuji should have been X-rayed after qualifying. 

The boy has the good sense to look a little guilty, at least, “I told them I didn’t have a lot of pain, it was just the shock. So they didn’t-” 

“Fucking hell. Yuuji.” 

“I know! I know, okay, but I- I need to get a real shot here.” 

“You have a real shot- Yuuji. You can’t win races with broken ribs.” 

Yuuji winces again. “Are you just here to lecture me?” 

And you’ve fucked it up again . Gojo rubs his eyes, pulling his sunglasses up to his forehead. “No- I’m not, I know what it’s like to want to win. I- probably would do the same in your position,” 

There’s an answering silence, and Gojo searches for something to say, “you know, in 2012, in Interlagos, I was ill. Like, my head was pounding the entire time. By the end of the race, I couldn’t see, it was that bad. And I was driving back to the pits, and Yaga was in my ears like, you did it, you did it , and when I got out of the car, I almost fell over.” 

Yuuji laughs, a little wetly, “only you would win a championship and then fall flat on your face getting out of the car.” 

“Getou caught me.” 

“I know.” Yuuji says. “I’ve rewatched that race an insane amount of times. It’s one of the greatest championship endings ever.” 

Gojo grins at him. “You’re still in it.” 

“It doesn’t matter, I got crashed into anyway. I might as well have not started in the first place.” 

Yuuji turns away, and Gojo can see the tight line of his jaw, the tense of his shoulders. 

“But you did.”

Yuuji softens. “But I did.” Then he sighs, “I’m supposed to go out tonight.” 

“Do you want a lift back to Monaco?” 

“Yeah, when is it, tomorrow morning? I don’t wanna deal with the fans at the airport, I’m supposed to only be flying business tomorrow.” 

“No, we’re going tonight. Yuuji- I think- you should probably be home.” 

“Is ‘Gumi coming?” Yuuji looks hopeful, because some things never change. 

“Yeah, Shoko and Yaga too.” 

“I should really show some face at this party, the sponsors are there-”  

“Look, I’ll talk to Getou, I’ll get you out of it.” 

“Really?” Yuuji’s face lights up, creasing from relief, “thanks, Gojo,” 

And then he jumps forward, flinging his arms around Gojo’s shoulders, whispering a muffled thank you into his shoulders. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND THIRTEEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	252
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	198
3	Yuuji ITADORI (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	182
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	155
5	Nanami KENTO (-1)	Sengoku	152
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	132
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	81
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (+2)	Meiji	54
9	Mei MEI (-1)	Haein	53
10	Iori UTAHIME (-1)	Kyoto G1 Team	52

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND THIRTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	407
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	380
3	Sengoku (=)	284
4	Meiji	135
5	Haein	62
6	Kyoto G1 Team	55

 

—

 

He finds Getou pretty quickly, in the quiet out the back motorhome. Most of the team is nearby but not watching, packing away, moving stuff, trying to get done and get home.

“How is he?” Getou is smoking a cigarette, smoke pushing past his lips. 

Gojo stands next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He wrinkles his nose at the smell, and Getou drops the cigarette, crushing it beneath his foot. 

“He wants it bad.” 

“I know he does. The first is-” 

Gojo nods. The first championship is different. It always will be. 

“He needs to go home. Are you celebrating tonight?” 

Getou shakes his head, “no. I’m helping the team until late. I’m flying in the morning. I think Yuuta’s going out with Inumaki and Maki, though. Are you looking for a distraction for him?”

“Nah. He- he doesn’t need to repeat my mistakes, does he? No- I- I’m going to take him home, with me and Megs, he needs to be away from everything as soon as possible, I think.” 

Getou looks at him, open and awed, and suddenly vulnerable, “you’re so different.” 

“I dunno, seven years kind of does that to a person.” 

Getou laughs, short. “You race the same, you do interviews the same, you’re still the same person. You just- you really know how to care now.” 

Gojo must be delusional. Delirious. What’s the right word? He must be. That’s the only explanation for how he feels Getou inching closer to him, soft and malleable and glancing at his lips. 

“So- I can take Yuuji?” He feels his own gaze travel downwards, just for a second. Like a reflex. 

Suguru laughs, then a few things happen all at once: 

 

1. Getou’s arm comes up to wrap around his shoulders. 
2. They move so that they’re chest to chest. 
3. Suguru’s hand is in his hair.
4. Suguru is kissing him. 

 

Satoru has imagined this moment a million times over. It has haunted his dreams, his fantasies, and his worst nightmares. He’s imagined Suguru’s lips as chapped, as rough, as soft, as abrasive, as gentle. He’s practised the little gasp he’ll let out, the shock of it all, of finally being kissed by your best friend. 

In real life, there’s no spark, there’s no surprise, there’s not anything like in his dreams. It’s just soul-crushing relief. He melts. 

Suguru’s hands are cold on him. In his hair, on the back of his neck, and Satoru leans down, kisses him back, lets their mouths open against each other. He doesn’t waste time laughing in disbelief, he doesn’t push Suguru away to ask what the actual hell this means. Consequences can come later. He’s wanted this for a decade and a half, throwing himself at whoever will have him for a night and pretending it was the person he really wanted. He got really fucking good at it, too. 

But now he’s ruined. Because the real thing is better than faceless men in dark rooms, and it’s better than being hopped up on coke, or ecstasy, or being relaxed and easy with weed. It’s an endorphin rush that feels like coming home, like diving into the sea in Monaco, like spraying champagne on a podium, like winning a world championship after giving everything for it. 

And God, he’s given everything for this. He has. He honestly, truly has. 

Getou grins against him. “You’re eager.” 

He feels the words more than he hears them, mouthed out against his lips. He doesn’t care. “I’ve been in love with you for like, ages.” 

Getou kisses him again, softer. Gojo thinks distantly about how he doesn’t want it soft, not now, not ever, but they’re still kind-of-sort-of-maybe in public and he knows that he should stop before he can’t, anymore. 

“Where are you even living,” Gojo says. 

“Mugello,” Getou laughs, “it’s near to headquarters,” 

“Come to Monaco. You don’t have to work for two whole weeks, come to Monaco.” 

This time, Suguru doesn’t mock him for being eager. 

“Okay, Satoru,” 

 

—

Notes:

warnings: drug use mentions, incredibly unhealthy coping mechanisms, ED mentions, scenes with implied sex between gojo and people who are a lot older.

so, getou's first g1 season... yuki.. toji... yaga... gojo,,,, yuuji......

yk that feeling when the main couple gets together and then u see there's like, 20 episodes left? yeah. we're officially halfway through. have fun, guys!

the track referenced in this chapter is the Hungaroring!

:3

please comment if u enjoyed! pls!

Chapter 13: xiii - summer break

Summary:

An interlude.

Notes:

tags have changed, rating hasn't. <3 take 11k of these idiots, warnings in end notes

enjoy! comment for a kiss!

September 2010, Italy 

 

“Look, all I’m saying is that a podium is totally possible here,” Satoru is saying, waving his hands about as they walk through the paddock. It’s sunny, bright even for September. Satoru’s cap is pulled right down over his hair, shielding his eyes from the sun. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your master plan?” 

“Crash straight into Toji. T-bone the fucker!” Grinning, Satoru mimics a crash with his hands. 

“Then you’d be outta the race, dipshit,” Shoko chips in, smacking Satoru with her lanyard as he yelps, “good thing you’re not a strategist.” 

“Toji doesn’t deserve to be crashed into. He deserves to have his engine fail at every single race and take a grid penalty for it in every race that’s left.”

“That would be more soul-destroying,” Suguru winces. He’s had two mechanical DNFs this season out of fourth place, and then, most guttingly, out of first. At Silverstone. It’s put him into P3 in the championship standings, behind both Yuki and Toji, but not by much. Technically, he’s still a championship contender. In his rookie season. 

Satoru pats his shoulder. “Sorry,” 

Suguru shrugs in return, and his hand falls away, “it’s fine.” 

“You’d be leading if you won in Silverstone,” Shoko says, ducking forward so that she’s walking backwards in front of the pair of them. “It’s a bit shit,” 

“Yeah, well, Yuki might’ve gotten me out there anyway,” 

“You’re even with her on quali pace,” 

“When did you become a stat merchant?” Satoru grins, flicking her forehead. It quickly falls straight off his face as she shoves him, hard, and he almost falls flat on his face. 

 

—

 

“What the fuck was that!” Suguru shouts down his radio, coming through the chicane at turns one and two, having to weave through the run-off area to avoid Toji colliding with Yuki, taking them both out into the gravel. “That was her line!” 

“Copy, box box, there’ll be a safety car,” is all that’s said back to him. They’re at the early end of the pit window, but a free pitstop is too good to pass up, so he does as he’s told, and comes out P2 behind Mei Mei, who hasn’t pitted yet. 

“Is she okay?” 

“We’re checking.” 

When the safety car ends almost ten laps later, Mei Mei is easy pickings in the Jujutsu, scrambling on the old tyres she’s been left on. 

He brings it home. No one can touch him out there, with Yuki and Toji gone, and his engineer indulges him, screaming down the radio with him as they celebrate it: a win, on home ground. And a dominant win at that. 

Yuki is there, in parc ferme, and she hugs him over the barrier, whispering her praise for him through the barriers of his helmet. 

When Satoru pulls up to the boards alongside them - P2! - he scrambles out, barely celebrating himself before they’re running for each other, scrabbling into a hug, wild and frantic. They jump around: in front of everyone, in the middle of parc ferme. 

When Satoru sprays champagne straight in his face with brilliant vibrant laughter and the entire crowd screaming his name, red flares letting off into the sky, Suguru thinks that this might be it. The thing he wanted the whole time. 

Oh, and he’s back on top of the championship standings. 

 

—

 

They go back to the hotel to get ready to go out: there’s no party planned, but Yuki says she knows all the best clubs and she can get them in somewhere nice, as a treat, even Shoko and Satoru and Haibara and Nanami who were racing in Grade Three that weekend. 

Apparently, Sengoku is at the same hotel as them, because Toji is haunting the doorway when they pull up. Suguru hadn’t really noticed them over the weekend, but it’s impossible to not notice them now. 

Yuki tenses the moment she notices him, which is new. Usually, she’s unaffected by everything: it all rolls off her like water to a duck. She doesn’t show signs of stress, she doesn’t need to take deep breaths before races, she doesn’t panic. 

But here, Suguru starts to feel something foreign from her: real, genuine anger. 

“Why is he here?” 

“Because he’s a cunt.” Yuki grits her teeth as she steps out, “just ignore him.” 

They try to ignore him, but he follows them into the lobby. “You ended both of our races today,” he spits out, and he’s angry, too, Suguru realises, but in a way that makes him feel sick. 

Yuki takes a deep breath, ignoring him. 

Toji carries on anyway, “you didn’t leave me any space through that chicane-” 

Still, Yuki ignores him, trying to walk further into the hotel. 

“It’s like since you went to Keicho you’ve forgotten how to race.” 

Yuki stops, dead, in the middle of the lobby, and turns slowly, finally facing him dead on. Toji doesn’t look scared of her, even though Suguru thinks that he probably should be. His face twists into this sickening smile, like he’s happy he’s managed to rile her up. 

She advances toward him, “that crash was your fault. It was my line.” 

“You should’ve left the space.” 

Yuki laughs coolly. “Have you lost your mind? It was my line. You were behind me. I only have to leave the space if we’re wheel to wheel, which, might I remind you, we fucking weren’t. I was ahead.” 

“Your mistake cost us both the lead in the championship.” Toji gestures at him, now, and Suguru looks around, because why the hell is he bringing him into this?

“Your arrogance almost killed me today.” Yuki spits out. “Your car landed on top of mine. You are beyond lucky that the only thing we’ve lost is championship points, because if your car had landed over my cockpit, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. I’d be dead. And it would be my blood on your hands, Fushiguro. You wanna tell your kids that you’re a murderer? Or should I?” 

Toji does, finally, go blissfully silent at that. Yuki stalks away, and Suguru stalls for a moment before following after her down the hallway. He doesn’t turn back to see what Toji does. He doesn’t care particularly what the man does, more about the tremor in Yuki’s shoulders when he looks at her, bumping his hip against hers. “You okay?”

She stops dead in the middle of the hallway, and he turns, and then he realises rather belatedly that she’s crying. 

Well, not crying, exactly. Her eyes are glassy, and she’s shaky, but it’s still the most shaken up Suguru has seen Yuki, ever. 

“Shit, um-”

“I’m fine.” She wipes the tears from her eyes, and takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Look, I know you haven’t- you haven’t been in a crash like that yet, but it’s kind of fucking terrifying?” Her eyes fill with tears again. “And the crash itself is fine. The adrenaline carries you through it. But then you get dickheads like him who just- throw themselves at a line that doesn’t exist, to try and get a place. With zero patience. Or racecraft. And it works for most people, but I don’t want to open the door for him. I’m not going to.” 

“Could he have really killed you today?” 

Yuki laughs, bitter. “It’s a miracle he didn’t. And he’s acting like he wishes he did.” 

 

—

 

August 2022, Monaco

 

It turns out that Getou can’t come straight back to Monaco. He has to go to Italy first, to sort out something to do with a sponsorship for Nanako and Mimiko. Honestly, Satoru doesn’t pay attention to the specifics. He just remembers whining down the phone and saying really? You’re gonna make me wait?

Getou had purred over the phone, “come on Satoru. You can do a week.” 

Gojo can’t actually do a week. He’s going to go stir crazy, alone in this apartment. He’s going to die. They’re gonna find his rotting corpse in a week, put on his headstone died because Getou left him alone. 

“You’re too dramatic. Come on, it’s not that long.” 

Satoru had rolled off the couch in his jet and whined. Getou had just laughed. 

So now he’s alone, in his penthouse suite apartment, and he thinks that this might be it for him. Dead. Buried. Maybe he’ll bite his own skin off, because Getou won’t let him bite his . 

He keeps busy. He texts Yuuji about the videos he’s filming over summer, offers to help out with a few more than are strictly necessary. He might regret it later, but he’s pleased about it in the moment. 

He goes to visit Nanami and Haibara a few days later, in Nice. Nanami opens the door, and Gojo thrusts a bottle of nice wine at him. “For you, but Haibara said he liked it last time, so.” 

Nanami sighs, “he can’t drink with the painkillers he’s on.” 

Unfortunately, Haibara has ears like satellites, so he pops his head round the corner straight away and yoinks the bottle from Nanami’s hands. “It’s fine, I can have a little,” 

Nanami glares at Gojo like see what you’ve started? And turns away to go and tend to the food. 

Haibara uncorks the wine with a wince and collapses down into the sofas. Gojo likes Nanami and Haibara’s house. It’s soft everywhere, with colour and life that so many houses lack. There’s a soft throw blanket knitted - maybe crocheted, Gojo isn’t sure - by Haibara’s mom slipped over the back of the couch, and frames with photos of them with family everywhere. Gojo is only a little jealous. 

Ever the gossip, Haibara pats the space next to him on the couch, “so, did you hear that Nobara got in a fight with Zenin?” 

“Mai? I’m not surprised. Those two are at each other’s throats constantly.” 

“You know,” Nanami says, from the kitchen, because he likes to pretend he’s too high and mighty for gossip, but Haibara has converted him, “Maki was saying they won’t keep both of them on at this rate. They seriously, actually hate each other.” 

“On a scale of one to Gojo and Toji, how bad is it?” 

“Okay-” Gojo tries to defend himself, but neither of the others are interested in listening to him. 

“A ten. Not as bad as what those two had going on, but it’s getting close. It doesn’t help that the sisters don’t like each other either,” Nanami hums, stirring at- something. Gojo sits up. 

“Really? I thought Maki and Mai were civil.” 

Haibara snorts, mid-sip of wine. Gojo swears he sees a little coming back out of his nose. “If by civil you mean taking passive aggressive shots at each other all the time, then sure, they’re civil.” 

“I thought they were fine together. I know they don’t really talk, but-” 

Nanami comes over, leaning down into the seat opposite them, and pours himself a large glass of wine. When Gojo eyes the action, he says, “it’s been a long season. And anyway, I think Nobara being there is making it worse.” 

“Why would Nobara make it worse?” 

Nanami honest-to-God snorts, and Haibara pats Gojo’s shoulder. “You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?” 

“Come on Gojo, keep up with the paddock gossip. Nobara clearly has a crush on her.” 

“Hm, but it’s up for debate whether her and Yuuta have something going on-” 

“What.” 

“You really haven’t heard?” Haibara gasps, “damn, and I thought I was out of the loop.” 

As if anyone in the history of anything has described Haibara Yu as out of the loop. He knows everything, all the time. 

“I’ve kind of been trying to beat two other contenders at once this season,” he huffs, “it’s hardly my fault that I don’t have time for paddock gossip.” 

“Surely Megumi mentioned it, though, he’s good friends with Nobara, right?” 

Gojo shrugs, nonchalant. “Megs doesn’t mention that stuff to me.” 

Haibara’s eyes go wide, “really?” as Nanami gets up to check on the food again. 

“Yeah, nah. I’m not gonna torture him any more than I already do.” 

“Aw, come on, I’m sure you don’t torture him,” Haibara laughs, bright as he swirls the drink in his glass. “He loves you.” 

“Well, I dunno about love.” Gojo scoffs, “he’s like a house cat, when you hold it by the scruff of his neck,” 

Haibara lets out a giggle at that, “oh my god, he so is.” 

“Maybe Nobara would sign for JTR,” Nanami comes back over again, “I know Maki could definitely be persuaded to follow.” 

“To replace Megs? He’s got two years on his contract, Nobara’s runs out end of this year, right?” 

Nanami looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “No, but yours runs out at the end of this year.” 

Ah. So they’re talking about this, then. “I dunno if I’m gonna retire yet.” 

“You’ve got one hand on your seventh. You said that you’d retire if you got seven.” 

“Yuuji could easily catch me, after summer. So could Yuuta.” 

“Okay, Yuuta’s not catching you,” Haibara leans back on the sofa. Gojo forgets that this is his job sometimes, that he looks at statistics and tyre strategies until his head hurts, that he knows the sport probably better than Gojo and Nanami do. “He’s been struggling with that car all season, and if Yuuji hadn’t had such shit luck, he’d be leading probably by more than twenty- thirty points.” 

“Yuuji.” 

Nanami winces. “He’s a long way back, now. Seventy points isn’t an easy gap to bridge.” 

“Yeah, he’d have to win basically very race when you got back from break.” Haibara says. “That’s a tall order, even for a kid like him.” 

“It’s not impossible.” 

“Gojo, do you not want to retire?” 

And that’s the multimillion dollar question, isn’t it? “I still enjoy it.” 

“You want to retire before it goes sour, though. You’ve made enough money to never have to work again, you could model-” Gojo snorts at Haibara’s comment, but he carries on, “no, seriously, you’re famous enough. You’re the most famous out of all of us.” 

He wants to go out on a high, he wants to dip out with a world championship in hand, he wants- 

He wants to make sure everything isn’t quite so fragile, when he leaves. He thinks of the soft kiss outside the motorhome, and burns. “Racing is all I’ve ever done, y’know?” 

“Racing was all I ever did. Yaga would give you a job in a heartbeat. Honestly, any team probably would. You’re smart enough to be a Principal, or a strategist, if you want to stay in the sport.” 

“Are you trying to convince me to retire?” Gojo grins. 

Haibara throws his hands up and blurts, “no, never-” at the same time that Nanami grins, “yeah, you should give the rest of us a chance.” 

Gojo laughs. 

 

—

 

Later, when Haibara leaves, Nanami sighs, looking up from the shitty comedy on the TV as background noise. “You and Getou are talking again?” 

“Yeah,” Gojo doesn’t have to look at Nanami to feel his judgement.

“Be careful.” 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a long pause. 

“You could be a coach, you know? Performance or otherwise.” 

“What? Where’s this coming from?” 

“You helped Yuuji a lot. And Megumi. Nobara even sings your praises to the press, sometimes. Haibara used to say you helped when he was racing. You’re good at it. God knows you enjoy riling the kids up.” 

“Not really kids, are they?” 

“You get the point, Gojo,” 

And Gojo does. 

 

—

 

November 2010, United Arab Emirates

 

Going into the last race of the season, Toji leads the championship by nine points. Yuki and Suguru are pretty even on points, but the eight point lead (fourteen points, for Suguru) means that not only does one of them have to win, but Toji has to finish outside of the top three. 

Keicho’s mechanical DNFs are to blame for Toji’s lead, but honestly the guy is still a ruthless racer, and he’s done well considering his teammate is P5, behind Satoru in P4 who has been outperforming the utter shitbox he drives all season. 

Sengoku will probably replace him next season anyway, considering they’ve lost the constructor’s. 

They sit tense in the meeting at the start of the weekend. Do not get the fans hopes up in interviews, don’t promise anything, stay positive. Suguru thinks that it might be impossible to do all of those things at once. 

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this.” Their team principal runs a hand through his hair. “But we want to prioritise Yuki this weekend.” 

“What?” The words are tumbling out of Suguru’s mouth before he can stop them. “No.” 

Yuki’s jaw is set beside him. She’s not saying anything. 

“She’s ahead in the points. It makes sense to try and win the driver’s with her. If we allow you both to race, then the likelihood of spending too much time racing each other and allowing Toji past is too high.” 

“He has to mess up this weekend anyway.” Suguru says, “he has to finish P4 or lower, even if one of us wins.” 

“But that’s the risk we take. Yuki winning means that a P3 would give us the win. If you won, he’d need to be P5.” 

“Please.” Suguru says. “This whole year, we’ve been allowed to race. This whole year, and now you’re telling me to throw a championship I could win.” 

He looks at Yuki. Yuki looks away. He feels sick, and he hasn’t even had anything to eat today. He barely eats on quali days. It makes him lighter. 

“If I qualify on pole, will you let me race?” 

The team principal shakes his head, slow and sad, “Suguru.” 

“Will you let me race if I qualify on pole?” 

Yuki sticks her chin out. “Yes. But only if Toji qualifies P3 or below, so I can push him back.” 

The team principal’s eyes go almost comically wide. “Yuki-” 

“No. If he earns it, he should get the chance.” 

 

—

 

“What’s got you riled up?” Satoru nudges him as they walk, side by side, to the paddock. They’ve gravitated toward each other, like always, after FP3. 

“Nothing.” 

“You can’t lie to me, Suguru. Come on,” 

“They wanna prioritise Yuki,” he says, all in one breath, “they wanna fuck me out of a chance at the championship.” 

“They said they were gonna let you race.” 

“That’s a lie,” 

Satoru frowns on his behalf. “That’s shit. Like, really shit, what the hell?” 

Suguru shrugs, “Toji does have to finish pretty far back if I wanna win.” 

“I’ll back him up for you,” grinning like it’s easy, Satoru bumps his hip up against his, “I bet I can push him back to P7.” 

Suguru laughs, “they’ll only prioritise me if I start on pole, and Toji starts behind P4,”

Satoru looks at him dead on. “Okay, then you start on pole. You give him hell. Your time was faster than Yuki’s just now.” 

 

—

 

Suguru qualifies on pole. 

Toji qualifies P5, after an impeding incident between him and Satoru in qualifying that earns Satoru a grid place penalty. In the press pen afterward, Satoru seems completely nonchalant about the whole thing. “I didn’t see him behind me.” 

Suguru starts well, pulls a gap of two seconds to Yuki behind him, and then, Toji’s bitch teammate, who finally woke up and decided to remember how to drive fast, runs straight up the back of Suguru’s car in the breaking zone and sends him spinning off into a run off area. 

He screams into the radio, watching as almost the whole grid hurtles past him. 

When he calms down, the mission is simple. He picks off the grid, one by one, and makes his way back up to P4, where he can see the back of Satoru’s car. 

“Where’s Yuki?” 

P1 , comes the reply. 

“Where’s Fushiguro?” 

P2 , comes the reply. Fuck. 

He does the maths in his head. There’s fifteen laps left to go, and Toji needs to be P4 or below to give Yuki the championship. His own championship chances are gone, flushed away the moment that Toji’s teammate collided with him. 

But he could help Yuki win.

He gets his foot on the throttle down the straight and Satoru’s straight line speed isn’t nearly enough to fend off Suguru’s late braking. 

“Tell Yuki to slow down and back him up, I can get him and push him back to P3,” 

“Copy.” 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race Press conference, Top Three Finishers, Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2010 - hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

(EDITORS’ NOTE: Suguru Getou and Satoru Gojo have the same initials, so in this transcript, will be referred to by Surname rather than initials)

 

Q: What a race, and what a championship battle. I’m joined by my top three finishers for this race first though, in third, Satoru Gojo, in second, Suguru Getou and in first place, and our 2010 world champion, Yuki Tsukumo. Yuki, that was just incredible. 

YUKI TSUKUMO : I still can’t believe it to be honest. We went in knowing we’d have to do something special and we pulled it off as a team and- yeah. 

Q: Of course the drive today wasn’t just skilled, but tactical. Talk us through it. 

YT : Yeah, I had to back Fushiguro up and it was definitely Suguru’s idea, he was very quick to suggest it on the radio. But he obviously had to finish P4 or below so it wasn’t enough to get just Suguru past him and then Gojo managed it in the last few laps- [to Gojo] what lap was it in the end? 

SATORU GOJO : Last lap.

YT : Damn okay, yeah, then it was properly last minute wasn’t it? So I got lucky in some ways but the quick strategic call definitely made all the difference in being able to push Fushiguro back. 

Q: Okay, Getou, coming to you, you started on pole, fell through the standings and then came all the way back up to take another podium. This is being called your best race of the season already, how did it feel out there?

SUGURU GETOU : Am I allowed to swear? Um. No, yeah this is bittersweet. At the beginning of the race I was in a position to take a championship and I’ve done everything I can and got cheated out of it by actions that weren’t my own. Obviously I’m happy for Yuki, and I’m happy for the team but thinking about what could have been- yeah. 

Q: Your tactical calls gave Yuki the championship today, and you displayed a level of skill out there comparable to your very experienced peers. You’ve scored the most points ever for a rookie, and you finished P3 in a very competitive season. When you discard the way the season ended, are you proud of it? 

GETOU : Yes, I think so. [to Gojo] Better than your rookie season which is all that matters really-

[Inaudible chatter from Gojo to Getou] 

GETOU : [laughs] No, of course I’m proud, and the team is proud too, and without some mechanical DNFs I could’ve been a few points clear of Toji and Yuki both going into this race, but this is racing and I will definitely come back stronger next year. 

Q: Last but not least, Gojo, you started P7 yesterday due to a grid place penalty. You fought back superbly today but I don’t think many people expected you to be on the podium today. How did you manage it?

GOJO : Uh, pure adrenaline in the last lap. I also think that Suguru helped, he was backing up Toji in front of me massively, but I haven’t looked at any onboards or anything so I don’t know. 

Q: Your season overall has been quite impressive, you’re above your own teammate by a considerable gap and you’ve placed above one of the Sengokus who had a brilliant car this season. How are you feeling going into next season?

GOJO : I’m not giving anything away but I feel good. We kind of abandoned this year’s car and most of our focus has been on next year’s car, so. Yeah, we wanna be where Sengoku is next season. 

 

—

 

BREAKING: AMANAI RIKO TO RACE FOR KEICHO JUNIORS IN G2 IN 2011 / Feeder Series / News

 

Scuderia Keicho’s junior team has announced the signing of their own development driver, the seventeen-year-old Amanai Riko, completing their lineup and becoming their youngest ever signing to G2. Riko impressed in G3 last season, where she finished in third in the overall standings despite being a rookie, coming straight from GREC in 2009 where she placed second, again as a rookie. 

“I’m so excited to be given this opportunity.” Riko said, “I’m confident I’m going to be able to deliver good results, and I want it just as badly as anyone out there.” 

Meanwhile, Yu Haibara will remain in G3 for another season after placing fifth in the standings: “It’s a good opportunity to develop more as a driver and I’ll definitely give it my all and work hard. I’m going into my third year here now, which is obviously not where I want to be, but I’ve had some really bad luck this season so hopefully next season will be better. I’m happy for Amanai, she’s incredibly talented and deserves this.” 

 

—

 

August 2022, Monaco

 

Gojo is going to go insane. He’s going crazy. He needs to call someone to pad the walls before he throws himself into them. He wants to get in his car and speed so far over the limit that he can’t be pulled over by the police because he’s so fast. Maybe he’ll buy a motorbike. 

He’s always wanted one, after all. 

Anyway, after this he’ll probably need to switch his whole career anyway, so maybe buying a motorbike is a good option because he can just switch to riding bikes. He notes it down in his phone: buy superbike after seeing getou

What’s even the acceptable thing to do in this situation? Is this a date? Are they still friends? Did Getou even want to sleep with him in the first place? Maybe the kiss meant nothing and he’s just panicking over nothing? 

There’s a knock on the door. 

When he’s racing, Gojo’s heart rate usually stays at one hundred and sixty seven beats per minute the entire time. It’s his average. In the corners and in pitstops, it might go as high as two hundred beats per minute. Right now it feels like it might be peaking at something like two fifty. 

There’s another small knock and Gojo thinks rather desperately that he could tell Getou to leave and never return, and then he could gift the championship battle to Yuuji and Yuuta and just retire mid-season. 

But then the handle twists and Gojo realises that actually the door is just unlocked and Getou’s just standing on the threshold. “Oh. You are in, I thought maybe you’d gone out or something.” 

“So you just let yourself into my apartment.” 

Getou shrugs. “You invited me and it was unlocked.” 

He looks- 

His hair is completely down, not pinned back like he usually has it in the paddock. His bangs fall haphazardly across his face and when he catches Gojo staring he pushes them back: a loss. 

“What?” 

“You look good.” 

So much for being casual. Gojo hasn’t been casual about Getou a day in his life and he’s kind of shit at starting new habits anyway. 

Something, something, old dog new tricks, you get the gist. 

Fortunately, because Gojo’s never been normal about Getou a day in their lives, Gojo doubts that Getou knows the difference between Gojo being normal and not. “I bought some stuff to cook, if you want, Satoru.” 

“You can’t cook.” 

Getou raises an eyebrow, “so are we eating before or after?” 

“After what.” 

Getou swallows and smiles and shrugs and crosses the hallway. He drops his bag on the couch and it slips down like it’s liquid and suddenly Gojo is boxed in against the back of the couch. 

Somehow, despite Gojo having his legs bent and his palms sticking to the sofa, Getou is still looking up at him, eyes dark through his lashes. Gojo breathes in shakily. “Oh.” 

“Yeah?” Getou says, his thumb tracing the V of Gojo’s hip over his shirt. “You want to?” 

Does Gojo want to. What an actually clinically insane question. He’s wanted to since he saw his teammate flirting with him in GREC. He’s wanted to since they were in Abu Dhabi in 2009 and Getou was winning G2 and they signed him to Keicho. He’s wanted to since 2010 when he finished barely ten points from a world championship as a rookie. 

He wanted to when they were teammates and he wanted to when they weren’t and he wanted to even in the seven years he didn’t respond to his texts. 

He doesn’t say any of that though, because they’d put him in an asylum. Lock him up and throw away the key. 

He nods because Getou’s lips are very close to his and he doesn’t want to risk breathing too heavily, in case he breaks the moment and this whole thing turns out to be some terribly scripted TV show. 

But when Getou kisses him, sure and firm and slow, the walls of his house don’t collapse and there’s no studio audience is clapping for them. The relief floods through Gojo because he’s lived a long time in front of cameras and he doesn’t need them prying into this. He can almost imagine the interview questions that thinly conceal that they’re asking if they were fucking in their junior days and their G1 days and, y’know, all their days. 

Which they weren’t! Because Getou didn’t feel like this back then and he was scarily focused on winning a championship. But they are now, apparently, and they’re still fighting for championships in different ways. Gojo thinks they can have both. He thinks they could’ve had both a while ago, if they both wanted it bad enough. 

Getou’s hand splays out across his thigh where it meets his hip, and his other hand comes up to Gojo’s jaw. His fingers explore the skin there, tugging lightly on the lobe of his ear, thumb brushing the dip in his chin just below his bottom lip, and then moving back, back, to the base of his scalp. 

Gojo’s hair is longer than it used to be. He doesn’t shave the base of it anymore and it curls into this sort-of-mullet thing, especially during the season when there’s barely any time to maintain anything. He usually gets most of it cut off during summer break, overly short, and then lets it get longer and longer as they hurtle towards the season finale.

He didn’t realise it was long enough to pull at. His head snaps back and the column of his throat is suddenly bared to Getou’s teeth and he’s grazing his canines along it. Gojo’s breath hitches. Getou laughs, squeezing at Gojo’s waist, warm hands coming to press on his skin under his shirt. 

“Why are you laughing?” He’s smiling himself, but he still asks, hands braced against the couch and knuckles fast turning white. 

“I just knew you’d like that.” 

Gojo burns. He’s never had a relationship last more than six months. This is going to be different and he thinks he might hate it, but he also wants it so fucking bad. So bad, in fact, that he might die if they don’t move somewhere else right now because he is not having sex with Suguru propped up against a couch. 

He tries to detach his hands from the edge because he needs to unbox himself, and instead of pushing himself forwards, Getou’s weight ends up pushing him back and he topples over the couch, ending up with his legs half over the backrest and his hand on the floor. 

Getou stands over him for a full second before he bursts out laughing. Like, doubled over, hands on his stomach laughing. Jesus, Gojo’s ruined the mood now. Mood killer, buzzkill, oh my god . 

“Are you that eager? Are you telling me you want to fuck on the couch?” 

Pause. Rewind. Gojo stares up, slack-jawed, and his entire chest is burning. “You pushed me!” 

“Hardly,” Getou purrs above him, propping up a knee on the back of the couch. Gojo realises a bit too late that he’s climbing over him and straddling him, gently repositioning the leg that was askew. “You practically threw yourself back here.” 

Gojo swallows and tips his head back to try and steady himself. But he can’t steady himself, so: “you’re calm about this,” 

Getou softens and smiles with all his teeth, wolfish, creases forming on the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he reaches out for Satoru’s hand and lifts it between his fingers, placing it over his sternum, holding it there. “Can you feel it?” 

Nodding, Gojo looks up and smiles, “yeah.” 

“I could feel yours when we were together outside the motorhome in Hungary. We’re both the same, huh?” He punctuates it by splaying his fingers out over Gojo’s chest and pressing down so his back sinks further into the cushions. 

They kiss again, soft, and Gojo isn’t quite sure who started it but he’s not letting this carry on in his living room where there’s huge windows that let all the sunlight in.

He pushes Getou’s shoulders firmly away from him, and his lips do this thing that looks like a pout and like disappointment and Gojo feels something swell inside him at it. Look, I did that to you, you want me, this is mutual.

“Get up.” 

“Oh, you wanna eat first?” Getou pulls away immediately, “I bought kikufuku, I managed to make them and they’re pretty sloppy but-” 

“What.” Gojo turns to him cheeks burning because he wanted to just move this to his bed where the light is softer and he has an ensuite bathroom but-

That’s his favourite dessert. Ever. He hasn’t had it in years because he hasn’t been back to Japan in the offseason in a while and nowhere in Europe even makes it. He always forgets about it when they go to Suzuka, because he doesn’t really allow himself anything sweet at all during the season. 

And Getou remembered. And bought some. Made them, from scratch, probably, because, as previously established, nowhere in Europe makes them. 

“Do you not like it anymore?” Getou blanches, “I should have asked probably but-” 

“Yes. I like it. I just. You remembered?” 

Getou smiles, this half-formed thing that is nervous around the edges. Gojo needs to remember that Getou can still get nervous. “Yes, Satoru, I remembered.” 

“Is this a date?” 

Getou laughs, short and sudden. “I don’t know, you invited me. I thought it would be rude to show up to your apartment empty-handed,” 

“I want it to be a date, I think.” 

Getou smiles with one side of his mouth. “Yeah?” 

Gojo stands up. “You’re making fun of me.” 

“Satoru. I would never.” 

The way he purrs Satoru has Gojo buckling a little bit. “Bedroom I think.” 

“I think you should breathe when you speak.” 

“I’ll kick you out onto the street and eat your kikufuku by myself.” 

Getou laughs lightly as he stands up, still slightly shorter than Gojo even after all these years. “I should put these in the freezer first,” 

It should break things, it should ruin the mood. It doesn’t. Gojo is kind of used to getting what he wants in short bursts where if the illusion is broken it just ends. But they’re here, in each other’s space, and they both keep circling around each other, coming back to each other. 

It’s a new sort of magnetism. A softer push and pull than what Gojo is used to. 

But still he steps back because he wants this to be perfect and- 

“I should probably, like, um.” He waves behind him in the direction of his bedroom and Getou frowns and then realisation dawns on him, and his grin is wicked. 

“Oh? Is that not presumptuous of you, Satoru?” 

Gojo narrows his eyes. “You were climbing on top of me five minutes ago.”

Getou raises an eyebrow. “Oh of course, I’ll fuck you, Satoru, since you asked so nicely.”

He throws his hands up and leaves the room because Suguru doesn’t need showing around and he’s not moved anything since 2014, which was the last time he was here anyway. Getou’s laughter echoes through the hallways. 

He contemplates getting dressed again after his shower, but thinks better of it and just steps out to find Getou sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up when he sees Gojo standing in the doorway, with just a towel hitched around his hips. 

His gaze goes hungry in a new way. But in a way that’s different to everyone else Gojo’s been with, because they’ve always tried to hide it. Maybe out of shame, maybe out of not knowing him well enough. But still. It’s not been like this, with open want that’s still somehow so quiet and gentle. He feels it in himself, too, the way his heart slows just slightly. 

Getou puts his phone down and Gojo goes to him and leans over, straddling him just to see his throat jump. You’re just as undone as I am. I know you and you’re unravelling like me.

Getou’s hands go up, up, underneath the towel, along the crease of his thigh. Gojo looks down at him, breathes and says, “yeah?” 

He means for it to come out confident. It probably falls on just the wrong side of desperate. 

Getou doesn’t mention it. “Yeah,” 

Gojo leans down to kiss him again and ends up flipped over on his back, laughing, grabbing at Getou’s shirt, “come on, I’m not gonna be the only one-” 

He gets it off. His trousers go soon after. 

They kiss through it until they can’t anymore, until Gojo is whining under the weight of how much he wants, fingers digging in to the muscle in his shoulders, lifting his hips into every touch that Getou gives him. 

“Satoru.” Getou’s hand is on his hip, holding him down, stilling him. God, Gojo is burning. He feels hot and fuzzy all over and hearing his name, said reverent from Suguru’s lips, isn’t helping. “Be patient.” 

Gojo narrows his eyes. “I’ve been patient, you asshole-” and tries his hardest to hitch his hips up again, anything for some friction-

“No. I want to take my time with you.” 

They compromise, then, because Getou gets his mouth on him and Gojo has to bite the back of his own hand to stop himself from crying out immediately. It feels so good, is the thing, and Gojo still finds himself asking, like an idiot, “have you done this before?” 

Not because he’s particularly worried about Getou hurting him, or not being good, or because he’s nervous but because he wants to know where the hell he learnt to do that . 

Getou, in response, licks a line all the way from the base of Gojo’s stomach to the column of his throat. “I know what I’m doing.” 

Which doesn’t answer his question, actually. 

He doesn’t get much time to think about it though because Getou curls his fingers just so and Gojo sees stars. He bites down on his own hand again, and Getou huffs. “Stop it. I want to hear you.” 

Gojo lets his arm fall to his side, and Getou’s hand curls again. A gasp jumps from his throat. 

“Yeah?” 

“You fucking know it’s good, just-” 

Getou kisses him quiet, swallowing down his whines until he can’t anymore, Gojo pushing him away and very politely asking him to “hurry the fuck up, come on,” 

Getou laughs and it’s slow, when he pushes into him, heavy hand grounding at the base of his stomach. Gojo takes him in, above him, finally looking a little undone, hair messed up, bangs falling from his face. He reaches up, tucks them behind his ear. 

He gets rewarded by being pushed further into the mattress and by having a moan punched out of him. 

He gets a hand on the back of Getou’s neck to anchor himself, leaning up to ask for more, for him to be closer when words fail him. Suguru gets it immediately, leaning down over him, pressing close. Chest to chest. Heartbeat to heartbeat. 

Gojo bites into the space around his neck, and it’s sloppy and probably won’t leave marks because he can’t concentrate on the act of it to save his own life, not when Suguru feels so good in him and on him, and fucking finally . 

It’s all over because somehow Suguru knows his tells and he’s tracing along Satoru’s ribs as he fucks him saying “yeah, Satoru– you can, just let go for me-” 

And the hand on his ribs traces down and he thumbs over right where he’s sensitive and his whole body shudders beneath Suguru, who chases for a moment more before tipping over alongside him. 

Past the point of no return. 

 

—

 

May 2011, Spain

 

Suguru starts the 2011 season in the worst possible way: with two mechanical DNFs. At the season opener, Riko is in the garage and offers him a pat on the back, despite the fact that she’d just won her own race in G2. Even though he’s back on the podium in China, and he wins in Turkey, the points difference between him and Yuki is already looking like it might be writing on the wall. 

This year, the feeling on the paddock is different. Because, after a year of focusing on their 2011 car, Jujutsu Tech is fast. 

Well, nobody’s really sure exactly how fast the car is, because only one of their drivers is fighting for podiums and wins week in week out. 

So maybe it’s more accurate to say that Satoru is fast. He wins the first race of the season in Australia, and then nips at Yuki’s heels for a second place finish in Malaysia, a third in China right behind Suguru, who manages to hold him off, but only just. 

It’s becoming clear that Mei Mei’s lacklustre performance isn’t really cutting it anymore, because Gojo is performing miracles, and he’s almost neck and neck with Yuki in the overall points standings. 

Suguru’s fighting back, he swears. The summer sun beats down on the back of his neck in Spain, and Satoru is by his side, chattering about track grip and rubbering and how they’ve totally given us the wrong tyres for this race . 

Satoru wins in Spain. Suguru comes P2. 

 

—

 

August 2022, Monaco

 

Getou brings him kikifuku in bed, and Gojo thinks about a marriage proposal. 

Without the haze of need circling him and swallowing him whole, Gojo finally has time to just observe, running his fingers over the skin of Getou’s hips. He finds a tattoo there, tiny against his hip bone. 37. 

“You got it?” 

Getou laughs, “yeah, in 2012.” 

Gojo traces it, wondrous, gazing at this piece of him that’s been on Getou’s body all this time. “I never got one, for your win.” 

“Eh, it’s fine. We made the bet in 2012, you won 2012,” 

Gojo presses his finger to the ink and kisses Getou again. He forgets to ask why Getou never showed him it. 

They fall asleep that night with plates from dinner haphazardly stacked on the floor and an old movie playing in the background. 

 

—

 

July 2011, England

 

By the time Silverstone rolls around, Suguru has managed to claw himself back into the championship battle with pure spite and a semblance of an understanding that the team is prioritising Yuki for the upgrades on the car. 

But the media has started catching on to the fact that Suguru is only getting upgrades a race behind his teammate, and they’re asking questions about it now. And technically, Suguru isn’t even really meant to know, and it feels like a betrayal from Yuki even though none of this is really her fault. She brings in more sponsors, more revenue: of course the team want to favour her. 

But Suguru could be world champion. He could’ve been world champion last year, and he still could be world champion this year, upgrades be damned. There’s eleven races left, including this one. 

Shoko comes to Silverstone, and he raises his eyebrows when he sees Yaga hug her and lead her to JTR hospitality. Suguru supposes Satoru must’ve got her in, but it still makes frighteningly little sense, even as Satoru bumps shoulders with him as they’re heading to pressers on Thursday. 

 

—

 

Shoko ⋆ : so i have some news

Shoko ⋆ : yaga offered me a job at JTR

 

Me: I’m so happy for you Shoko

Me: What’s the job

 

Shoko ⋆ : I’m under nda but I can tell you soon i promise

Shoko ⋆ : good luck this weekend

 

—

 

Silverstone is, apparently, one of the weekends the team has decided to give Yuki upgrades before he gets them. He gets out of the car angry after their third free practice because he’s losing time everywhere to his teammate for basically no reason other than that’s what the team wants. 

If he won last year, he would’ve been the youngest world champion of all time. If he wins this year, he will be. But that ship is fast sailing and he wants to kick something and maybe himself. 

There’s the offer for a contract renewal on his mind. They want to keep him alongside Yuki for another five seasons, an unprecedented extension in the history of the team. But do they want to keep him to be a second driver or do they want him to win?

He wants to win. He’s capable of winning. He’s capable of beating Satoru, now, where he wasn’t before. 

He feels the frustration rising up in him, and takes a deep breath and compartmentalises it for later. He can feel mad and sorry for himself and kick walls later. Now, he has to drive. 

 

—

 

G1 BRITISH GRAND PRIX ROUNDUP : Getou fights back for dominant win, Gojo second, Tsukumo third / G1 News

Written by Geoff Timothy, 10th July 2011

 

Keicho’s Suguru Getou fought back after qualifying P5 on Saturday to secure the win in the British Grand Prix at Silverstone. In a brilliant effort from the Japanese driver, he overtook Mei Meiji off the line, along with Sengoku’s Fushiguro to find himself in third place on lap one. After a successful first stint, where he overtook his own teammate in copse corner, he managed a successful undercut on Jujutsu Technical Racing’s Satoru Gojo, who held position for a second place finish. 

After an unlucky start to the season, Getou has managed to claw himself back into the championship fight, which could go right to the end of the season… (Read More)

 

SEE COMMENTS:

 

Scuderiafans : Rumours are saying yuki had upgrades this weekend too… Suguru is so so talented

 

Rosiejones : insane drive from Getou this weekend he’s just incredible

 

Markveb : The overtake that getou pulled on Yuki at copse in reportedly inferior machinery was the stuff of dreams, hard to see why keicho insist on prioritising yuki at this point

 

—

 

{COULD BE: Yaga Masamichi} : Hello Suguru, I hope you’re doing well. If you have time to chat in Germany, we’d love to be able to sit down at some point. Congratulations on the win, incredibly well deserved! 

 

—

 

August 2022, France

 

Yuuji ends up texting in the middle of the second week of break, saying he’ll film the video of them karting on Sunday. Gojo agrees easily and shows Getou, and they agree to drive together. 

It ends in a squabble as to which one of Gojo’s supercars would be most practical to take on the hour drive to Cannes, which is where Yuuji has managed to convince a track owner to let them take it over for a day - just them. 

Getou wants to take the Keicho, and Gojo folds his arms over his chest and snorts. “Oh yeah, me being seen in a Keicho, with you, team principal, as my contract expires? Sure, that’ll be great for the press.” 

“It would be funny.” 

“Until you get asked a million questions in Spa about why we were in a car, together-” he steps closer to Getou to press his body against his: a resounding point, “alone. Do you want to tell the press, or-”

They end up taking a Sengoku. It’s old, and it’s been collecting dust for a while, because Satoru doesn’t particularly like being seen in it, but it works. Getou bugs Gojo and he ends up letting him drive it, pressing down on the throttle. There’s never a question about whether Gojo trusts him to drive or not, just a mutual understanding as Gojo relaxes into the passenger seat and listens to the dull thrum of the radio. 

“Have you done one of these before?” Getou asks, and when Gojo just hums, confused, he adds, “one of Yuuji’s videos, I mean. He’s been filming them since G4, apparently.” 

“Nah.” 

“He was excited. He says he’s been asking you to do something for his channel for ages.” 

It’s a half-truth: Yuuji has asked before, but he’s not been incessant about it. In fact, it’s been far from it, a half-question posed with the assumption that the answer would be no. 

He shrugs as they pull into the car park, met with an already guilty-looking Yuuji waving at them. 

“What did you do?” Getou says, popping his head out of the car and looking over the roof. 

“I-” Yuuji stutters, “I may have promised that you’d both sign some stuff?” 

Gojo laughs as he gets out of the car, turning to find Getou’s face twisted into a scowl. “Yuuji.” 

“It’s just, like, some posters! For their regulars, you know, the kids that can’t afford to go to the races or get merch or whatever,” he says, all in a rush, “please…?” 

Getou sighs, pushing Gojo forward by the shoulders. “You’re lucky we love you.” 

They sign the walls of the karting centre’s briefing room, and a handful of posters each. Nobara laughs watching them push the posters between them. “I thought you two hated each other.”

“I thought so too but it turns out they’re friends now, and it’ll make for good content so I’m glad you are.” Yuuji blurts all at once, barely looking at them in favour of adjusting the settings of his camera.

Getou, the sneaky bastard, places a hand on Gojo’s knee and grins. “Yes, friends. I’m glad it makes good content for you.” 

Gojo shrugs his hand away with a jerk of his knee and Yuuji looks up, sheepish. “And I’m glad you sorted out whatever was going on, too.” 

“Don’t pretend to care about them, it’ll go to their heads,” Nanami chips in, “are we waiting for Megumi?” 

Yuuji presses his lips together, and Nobara’s eyes widen just a fraction as she picks a spot on the floor to stare at. 

“Nah, he’s not coming.” Yuuji says, just shy of casual, “he said he was feeling ill. I think he’s still in Monaco.” 

 

—

 

Karting turns out to be fun. Gojo hasn’t been in a while, and Getou hasn’t been in even longer, and they laugh at each other as they collide on purpose, for fun. 

Gojo hopes he never has to stop hearing Getou’s laugh. 

 

—

 

July 2011, Germany

 

“Well, I’ll cut to the chase. I want to sign you alongside Satoru for 2012.” 

Suguru feels his eyebrows climb halfway up his forehead. “What.” 

Yaga shifts in his chair, smiling. “I’ve had my eye on you since last year. Satoru is desperate to have you on board, and you’re matching a double world champion for pace in your second season in the sport. Has Keicho renewed your contract?” 

Suguru huffs, thinking of the stack of papers he still hasn’t signed. “No. They’ve made offers,” 

The truth is that he should’ve signed a renewal already. Keicho is by far the most successful team on the grid, and no one is predicting that that will change anytime soon. He could fight Yuki for a championship, and in equal machinery is the best place to do that, right now. He has an offer from Sengoku, but the car is bad and he’d be teammates with Toji. 

“How much?” 

Suguru has always admired Yaga’s bluntness. “They’re offering me ten million, plus bonuses.”

“For wins, or podiums?”

“Both. Bonus for the championship, too,”

Yaga scratches his chin and whistles lowly, “damn. Okay, leave it with me, we’ll see what we can offer you.” 

“Are you going to allow me to race Satoru?” Suguru blurts, and then promptly closes his mouth. Yaga studies him. 

“Are the rumours about the upgrades true, then?” 

Suguru nods, slowly. “Yeah. Yaga. I need your word that you won’t make me a second driver. I haven’t come this far to not win a championship.” 

“Of course you’ll be allowed to race him.” 

And Suguru’s decision is made for him, really.

 

—

 

“I’m thinking about leaving the team.” Suguru says to Yuki after the race on Sunday, crowded into a bar where no one else can hear them speaking. 

Yuki laughs. “Who for? Sengoku? Toji will have your head!” 

“For JTR.” 

Yuki goes silent. Then she frowns. “Is Satoru leaving?” 

“No. I’d replace Mei Mei.” 

Her face goes dark. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes? I- Yuki, they’re fucking me over here. You’ve seen how they’re fucking me over.” 

“I can talk to them, I can-” 

“What’s your problem with me going to JTR?”

Yuki chews the inside of her cheek. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but- are you sure you can handle being teammates with Gojo?” 

“Yes? He’s my best friend.” 

Yuki looks at him with something akin to pity. “Yeah, that’s why I’d be worried. Suguru-”

“I want to win a world championship. My dad died for me to win a world championship, my mom doesn’t talk to me because I want to win a championship, I can’t- I can’t not win one,” Suguru bursts out, “I have to starve myself to keep my weight low and the food all makes me feel sick, and I’m not going to win one here.” 

“You could win one this season.” Yuki says, “you’re less than ten points off of me, and all of us starve ourselves for the weekends,”  

“That’s not the point, they’re giving you upgrades first,” Suguru says. “They’re giving me different fuel loads, different strategies. They want to see you win, and I’m meant to back you up, just play a good teammate even when they tell me to help you win. And I like you, but I’m not going to spend another five years here to be a second driver.” 

“And you won’t be a second driver to Gojo?” 

Suguru feels bile rising up in his throat because no one has insinuated he’s worse than Satoru in ages. “Oh, fuck you-” 

“Suguru. Stop. I’m older than you. I’ve been here longer. If you want to be teammates with Gojo, go for it. But you can’t stay best friends with your teammate.” 

“We’ll be fine.” 

Yuki shrugs and lets it go. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” 

 

—

 

BREAKING: Suguru Getou to drive for Jujutsu Technical Racing in 2012 

 

SUGURU GETOU TO PARTNER GOJO SATORU IN JUJUTSU TECHNICAL RACING FOR 2012 SEASON 

 

Suguru Getou to leave Scuderia Keicho for 2012 

 

GETOU SIGNS CONTRACT WITH JTR FOR 2012 UNTIL 2016, GOJO RENEWS UNTIL 2015

 

GRID SHAKEUP IMMINENT AS GETOU LEAVES SCUDERIA KEICHO 

 

Is Suguru Getou running from Tsukumo? : OPINION

 

Getou signs to JTR for 2012 : “I want to win championships” 

 

Masamichi Yaga and Suguru Getou’s relationship in racing: a timeline 

 

Are Gojo and Getou the dream team? JTR seems to think so. 

 

Satoru Gojo and Suguru Getou’s history in racing: a blessing or a curse?

—

 

Transcript for Pre-Race interview with Suguru Getou, Belgian Grand Prix 2011

 

Q: Welcome Getou. Over the summer break, it’s been announced that next season, you’re moving teams to Jujutsu Tech to partner your long-term friend Satoru Gojo. How are you feeling about it?

SUGURU GETOU: Excited. I’m thankful to Keicho for supporting me and making me into the driver I am now, but I want a change of pace and Jujutsu Tech has impressed me in terms of development and pace, this season in particular.  

Q: How are you feeling about your future teammate? You’re obviously both immensely talented and the same age, but he has a couple years extra experience on his back. 

SG: Honestly? We were supposed to be teammates in G3, and I failed to secure funding and then he moved to G1 when I came up to G3. We’ve both wanted this for a long time, we’re close and I can’t wait to race alongside him. 

Q: There’s been a lot of speculation about the reason for you leaving Keicho, including arguments with Yuki Tsukumo as the cause. Are those rumours true?

SG: No. I am on good terms with Yuki, but she understands as well as anyone the reasons I have for leaving the team. I don’t want to waste years racing as a number two driver. 

Q: So you won’t be a number two driver at JTR?

SG: No, Satoru and I will be on equal status. 

 

—

 

Why is the signing of Suguru Getou to JTR causing such a stir? A breakdown / G1 News / Long Reads

Written by Jules Borne, August 29 2011

 

Over the summer break, Masamichi Yaga and Jujutsu Technical Racing announced that the decision had been made to sign Suguru Getou going forward for the 2012 season, replacing Mei Meiji. Getou will partner the equally prolific Satoru Gojo, who is the youngest race winner in G1 history and a powerhouse of a driver who has found himself in a championship fight this season in what is largely considered inferior machinery. 

 

[Image ID: a screenshot of a tweet announcing Getou’s signing to JTR. It reads “Excited to Announce Suguru Getou as our second driver for 2012! He will partner his friend Satoru Gojo! Ready, boys?!” The tweet is accompanied by a photo of Getou and Gojo in the podium in Monaco 2010, spraying each other with champagne and grinning. Underneath, there is a tweet reply from Satoru Gojo, which reads “born ready baby” and is accompanied by a picture of Getou and Gojo on a podium from 2003, in karting. They’re both grinning wide and holding trophies. The third girl on the podium is Ieri Shoko.]

 

But why Suguru Getou? The driver has been causing a stir in the racing world since 2007, when he won the Grade Regional European Championship (GREC) in his rookie season. He then went on to sign to Keicho’s development program for 2008 onwards, and continued to impress, winning G3 in 2008, and G2 in 2009, back-to-back and as a rookie. His G2 win was particularly impressive, and saw him collect a Grand Chelem in Suzuka, the week of his father’s death. To date, he is the only driver ever to complete this feat in G2. 

 

[Image ID: Getou on the podium of Suzuka in G2, 2009. He has his head tilted down, eyes closed with his hands folded behind his back.]

 

He was then fast-tracked into a top team, Scuderia Keicho, for his rookie season in G1, where he contended with the highly experienced Toji Fushiguro and Yuki Tsukumo for a world title right until the last race. It took him just six races to grab a win, coming home to win the prolific Monaco Grand Prix in 2010. He is a highly wanted driver: there were rumours of Sengoku also contending for a contract with him alongside JTR and Scuderia Keicho. 

 

Given Keicho’s recent dominance and race-winning ways, it was largely expected that Getou would remain loyal to the team and re-sign for 2012 onwards, but he instead signed for JTR, which is notable for many reasons. 

 

[Image ID: Tsukumo and Getou walking together in the paddock, at the Silverstone GP in 2010. Tsukumo is smiling, wearing dark sunglasses with her hair down, and Getou is looking in the same direction. They’re both waving at someone offscreen.]

 

The first is that there have been rumours throughout 2011 so far that Suguru has been subject to unfavourable strategies despite being on pace with his teammate, and receiving upgrades a race later. Whilst Keicho shut down these rumours earlier in the year, stating that “our drivers are treated equally and are free to race each other”, it now seems that, to some extent, these rumours were true, giving us a rare insight into inner team politics. 

 

[Image ID: Getou in the Keicho garage, looking focussed and wearing headphones as he looks at data with an engineer.]

 

The second is the possibility of another grid shakeup. This single move leaves a highly coveted seat in a top team available for next season, and there are plenty of drivers who would like to be offered it: Fushiguro has expressed interest, as well as Zenin and Meiji, who is now without a seat for the upcoming season. There’s also Nara’s Utahime, who has extensive links to Keicho, and has been performing well in the midfield team.  

The third and possibly most exciting reason is the potential for a rivalry within JTR. If the team manages to build a car as good as this season’s, and Getou is capable of handling it, the two drivers are some of the most evenly matched on the whole grid in experience and age, and have both yet to win a championship, yet have the undeniable potential to do so. Comparisons have already been made to Kenjaku and Sukuna’s early years at Haein, and rightfully so: these two drivers have incredible amounts of talent. 

 

[Embedded Video Description: A video of Getou and Gojo from the ending of the Monaco GP 2010. It shows Gojo climbing out of his car, and making a beeline straight for Getou, who is standing with his team at the barriers. He flips his visor up and grabs at Getou’s shoulders, turning him around. The two embrace as there’s muffled, inaudible speech from Gojo, and they jump up and down together in parc ferme. In the background, team members can be seen smiling and laughing at the moment.]

 

But they also have history: both raced in Japanese G4 and very similar karting series across Asia in their youth, and swapped titles with each other often, and have shared many podiums over the years. They both speak incredibly highly of each other, and Gojo in particular has been vocal with support for his friend. 

A childhood rivalry reignited, and two best friends who are largely considered Grade 1’s future are now on the same team, in equal machinery. And everyone has their eyes on them, waiting to see what will happen next.

 

[Image ID: Gojo sitting in his car, visor flipped up. His eyes are crinkled into a smile as he looks up at Getou leaning over the cockpit, who is captured mid-speech to his friend, kneeling at the side of his car.]

 

—

 

August 2022, Monaco

 

As they cross the border back into Monaco later that evening, Gojo snaps his fingers and whistles to himself. “Oh, I was gonna call Megs, maybe we should swing by just to check on him,” 

Getou nods, flexing his hands on the wheel and yawning. “Couldn’t hurt.” 

Gojo has Megumi on speed-dial, and it rings three times before he picks up, voice static over the speakers. “Hello?” 

“Oh, Megs, I was gonna swing by and check on you, you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Megumi’s reply is slow, calculated. “What’re you on about?” 

“You’re sick, aren’t you-?” Gojo frowns, and despite only being able to hear one half of the conversation, Getou frowns too, side-eyeing Gojo in the passenger seat.

“What? I’m not sick. Are you going senile?” 

“Yuuji said you were. You didn’t come today.” 

There’s a heavy silence on the other end of the line, then Gojo hears Megumi swallow, and the boy’s voice comes out small. “Ah, fuck, that was today?” 

“Yeah. Megs, you okay? Did something-” 

“No! Nothing’s going on.” 

So something’s going on. “Did you have a fight with Nobara or something? I can talk to her if you want- I-” and then the puzzle piece clicks in Gojo’s brain a minute too late. “Or- Yuuji?” 

The silence on the end of the line is telling enough, but Megumi sighs, a quick exhale, anyway. “Don’t tell anyone.” 

A bit late for that , Gojo thinks, sparing a glance at Getou in the driver’s seat, who, despite being above gossip, is definitely craning to try and hear the phone conversation. 

“You fought? Like actually? What was it about?” 

“He. Um. Might have kissed me. And I told him we shouldn’t, because, you know. We’re racers. And he’s not talking to me.” 

Gojo’s heart stops. He’s not proud of the way he stutters. “Seriously?” 

“Is that all you have to say? Seriously?”

“No- Megs, I just mean, that’s- that’s a lot.” He imagines, briefly, how insane he would’ve gone if Getou showed any signs of reciprocation in 2013, 2014. He might have honestly quit on the spot. Megumi seems calm, all things considered. 

“I know, but what else am I supposed to do?” 

“You’ll have to see him at some point.” 

“It’s fine, we can be professional,” 

Gojo isn’t actually sure if Yuuji can be professional. He wears his heart on his sleeve at all times. Megumi, maybe, but Yuuji? They’re fucked. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Gojo, we’re not you and Getou,” 

It stings, then runs straight off of him. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll see you in Spa?” 

“See you in Spa,” Megumi says, and hangs up. Gojo stares out the windscreen. 

“What happened?” Getou says, a quiet murmur into the space of the car. 

“I think you’re fucked,” is all Gojo says, with a slack jaw. 

 

—

Notes:

warnings: discussions of a crash, mentions of eating disorders, mentions of character death, and... smut....

shakes cries screams this was my first time writing anything nsfw, and i never want to do it again! bye!

comment for a kiss. i wont reply to a lot of them, come find me on tumblr if u wanna talk to me! <3

Chapter 14: xiv - delta time

Summary:

A term used to describe the time difference between two different laps or two different cars. For example, there is usually a negative delta between a driver's best practice lap time and his best qualifying lap time because he uses a low fuel load and new tyres.

Notes:

EDIT 24/1/24 - IF YOU READ THE ORIGINAL UPLOAD OF THIS CHAPTER ON THE 22ND OF JAN, IT HAS BEEN EDITED. THE TIMELINE WAS WRONG IN THE ORIGINAL UPDATE. here's 9.9k. warnings in end notes

 

October 2011, Japan

 

By the time Monza rolls around, in the second week of September, Suguru is on top of the championship standings, by a single point and by way of pure spite. Yuki still publicly states that she thinks Suguru moving away from Keicho is the incorrect choice for his career, but they don’t speak about it. She qualifies behind him in Spa, and then in Monza, but the leading narrative that Keicho seem to be pushing is that Suguru is a coward for not continuing to fight Yuki from within the same team. 

If you can’t beat someone in equal machinery, you’re inferior to them. Tale as old as time. It applies to Toji, to Mei Mei, now to Suguru, apparently, even though he’s literally neck and neck on pace with her. It’s not exactly a destruction. 

Satoru wrinkles his nose when he’s asked about having more competition next year, and whether he’ll look less impressive next to a driver considered to be on a similar level to him. 

He gets asked it when they’re sitting right next to each other in a press conference, and Satoru pauses, turns in his seat and squints at Suguru and points his thumb into the gathered crowd. “Damn, get a load of this guy.” Then he turns back to his mic and shrugs, “I think the competition will be good. We’re friends. We’re on a similar level. Honestly, you should be asking that question to Suguru. I know he wants some real competition, too.” 

Which of course causes a massive stir, because Satoru has managed to imply he’s better than Yuki, that Suguru is better than Yuki, and that the rumours about the corruption inside Keicho are true all in one sentence. 

Racing in Suzuka last year was hectic, before Suguru was that popular. This year, it’s insane. The team, on his behalf, has picked up a couple more Japanese sponsors that demand his attention, and every reporter wants a slice of him in the pitlane. In the media pen before qualifying, Satoru leans across his shoulders and grins, big and brilliant and charismatic in a way Suguru hasn’t learnt how to be yet, and grins at the reporters. 

“Come on, we have a session to get to! You guys do wanna see us drive, right?” And then he throws a wink at one of the girls, who Suguru is sure he sees blush. 

“Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Satoru huffs, “they’re insane, you still need to do your job this weekend.” 

Satoru speaks perfect Japanese. Obviously. It hasn’t faded over time. They speak it to each other often. He races for a Japanese team, and next year, Suguru will race alongside him at the same one. 

“Are they bothering you this much? With JTR being a home team and all.” 

“Nah, I’m a traitor cause I race under the wrong flag,” Satoru grins. “You should try it.” 

“Having dual citizenship?” Suguru grins back.

“I don’t have it anymore.” Satoru finally lets Suguru’s shoulders go as they walk down the pitlane. “I had to give it up when I turned twenty.” 

Suguru’s mouth opens in a soft circle. “Oh.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine but they don’t let you keep the passports so- you know how it is. I race for Italy, I have a ton of Italian sponsors, so I kind of couldn’t switch?” 

Suguru shrugs. “Well, now you get Monza as your home race, that’s better than Suzuka,” 

Satoru smiles in return. “Well, Monza was your home race, too, this year. You got to have both.” 

 

—

 

In the race, he doesn’t see it coming. He barely has time to react. All he remembers, after the fact, is the searing pain that blinded him, the feeling of blood rushing to his head, bright lights being flashed in his eyes and the sensation of being opened from the inside out. 

 

—

 

Satoru Gojo : oh my god

Satoru Gojo : when you wake up tell me where they’ve taken you pls

Satoru Gojo : no ones telling me anything they wont evn tell yaga

 

Satoru Gojo : suguru its been two hours please

 

Satoru Gojo: suguru come on man

Satoru Gojo: they said they’re operating, i love u ur gonna pull thru

 

Shoko ⋆ : i love you suguru please call me when ur awake

Shoko ⋆ : i swear to god, never scare us like that again. The car is basically split in half on the track rn

 

—

BREAKING: SUGURU GETOU INVOLVED IN COLLISION AT JAPANESE GRAND PRIX

 

Red Flags suspend proceedings at the Japanese Grand Prix

 

GETOU IN CRITICAL CONDITION FOLLOWING CONTACT WITH FUSHIGURO: G1 News / Japanese GP 2011

 

JAPANESE GRAND PRIX WILL NOT RESUME FOLLOWING FUSHIGURO-GETOU COLLISION

 

Grade One driver Getou Suguru airlifted to hospital following serious crash at home GP

 

—

 

Suguru Getou ‘recovering well’ after ‘potentially life-threatening’ crash at Japanese Grand Prix / G1 News 

Written by Hana King, 15th October

 

After a collision with Toji Fushiguro, a statement by Scuderia Keicho has said Suguru Getou is ‘recovering well’ in hospital following the crash. He is not present at the Korean Grand Prix this weekend, and will be replaced by reserve driver Takaba for the weekend. 

The collision occurred when Fushiguro “misjudged [his] line going into turn fifteen”, diving down the inside and clipping wheels with Getou, who was in P2 at the time, behind Keicho’s Yuki Tsukumo, sending him off at high speed into the barriers, where the car flipped upside down. The race was then red flagged and not resumed, given the access needed by medical personnel to the crash site.

“We miss him, of course.” Tsukumo said, in the first press conference of the weekend. “But we don’t know how quickly he will recover at present and it’s unfair to place expectations on him so soon after a crash that could have been potentially life-threatening. I’m not allowed to comment further on it.” 

Keicho itself has also not commented further on his condition, but Getou’s future teammate and long-term friend Satoru Gojo has said “he’s doing okay. It was scary to watch, yeah… these crashes aren’t fun to watch for anyone. I’ve seen him in hospital, I won’t say too much because obviously he’s private and there’s ongoing stuff about how much the team wants to tell the public, but he’s okay. And it’s kind of a miracle that he is okay, after that.” 

Fushiguro hasn’t commented on the crash, neither to apologise or to contest the blame being placed on him for the collision. 

 

SEE COMMENTS:

 

Gojofan37: love how the article left out that Gojo straight up blamed toji for the crash and called it intentional lol

 

Rogerdays : Leaving out Satoru Gojo’s (rightful) criticism of Fushiguro in the same press conference is certainly a weird decision. That was the moment most worth talking about in my opinion. 

> Scuderiafans : @rogerdays what did Gojo say? I missed the conference 

>> Rogerdays : @scuderiafans he was essentially asked if he thought the penalty was too harsh since some drivers have said Toji shouldn’t have a penalty carried through for the next race at all. Gojo’s response was: “I don’t think he should be allowed to race at all this weekend. He caused a crash that could have killed Suguru and he should be held accountable for it. I mean, I’ve seen the replays. It looked- it looked like a move that was calculated rather than a mistake. I think most of us recognise moves like that. He swerved on track out there– he deserves the penalty. I don’t think it’s harsh enough.” – direct quote. 

>>> Scuderiafans : oh my god?? Thank you, I can’t find the clip of it anywhere. 

 

Anniehanna: all the articles placing basically no blame on toji is weird as hell. He was definitely to blame for that collision. 

 

Justinracing : does anyone have the clips from suzuka of gojo or yuki watching the screens whilst they red flagged it? It’s not on any of the replays :(

> Katiejon3s: @justinracing i think JTR/Keicho has asked the broadcasters to remove the clips for Gojo/Yuki. They might pop up on YT in a couple of days though

>> Justinracing : @kati3jones ah right thank you

> gojofan37 : @justinracing why do u even want those clips? Gojo looked like he was gonna throw up or pass out it was uncomfortable to watch even live, yuki was close to crying and hiding from the cameras too

 

—

 

August 2022, Belgium

 

Much like Silverstone, Gojo loves the track at Spa. It’s another one that has brilliant high-speed corners, and room for overtake manoeuvres, and corner names that the fans actually remember. 

Eau Rouge, Radillion, La Source. Ah, Gojo loves French as a concept. As a language, not so much. 

They don’t speak much about it, but Getou texts Gojo his room number and his hotel (they’re not in the same one, this week) and that’s that, really. Their hotels aren’t too far apart. A ten minute drive, maybe. Gojo thinks about maybe making a bet with him for the weekend that will end up with them in bed together regardless, just to spice things up a bit, but he really doesn’t need his mind drifting whilst he’s in the car. So. 

They don’t even need to have a conversation to know what they’re going to do about the newest aspect of their relationship. They both know to keep it secret, tell as little people as possible, and definitely to not do anything incriminating in front of the cameras, or anywhere at the track, really. Anyone could be filming anything. 

Their main problem isn’t that their fragile, weird new relationship that’s actually not weird or new or fragile at all could be fractured by the presence of cameras. It’s that Megumi and Yuuji still aren’t talking to each other. 

Megumi won’t tell him much, but Nobara manages to hunt Gojo down in the paddock on their way to press, and grabs him forcefully by the arm, slowing him down. “Listen,” she says, in Japanese, so their press handlers won’t understand them, “what the fuck did you say to Megumi about dating other drivers.” 

Gojo stares at her for a moment, waiting for his brain to kick into gear. “What?” 

“Megumi? He said to Yuuji they couldn’t do anything because they’re both drivers and he doesn’t want to ruin things. And now they’re not talking and I feel like a ping-pong ball going between them because they’re both stubborn as hell.” 

What had he said to Megumi? Not very much, really. Would you have quit, for Getou?

“I asked him if he liked Yuuji enough to quit racing for him. That’s all.” 

Nobara looks at him with a new type of fury. “That’s all ? Are you kidding?” 

“Yes?” Gojo says, bewildered at the sudden flash up of anger from Nobara. He’s never seen her like this, volatile. 

“Okay, cool. So it’s your job to fix it, then, because- has Megumi even told you what he said?” 

Gojo shakes his head. “He said Yuuji- you know.” 

There’s some things that they don’t talk about in public, even in another language. Nobara’s shoulders slump. “Look, he basically said to Yuuji that he couldn’t race with him if they were together. Which is stupid, because they’ve been like that-” she gestures limply with her hands, “for years, and it’s never stopped them before. And I know it’s like- the homophobia’s bad. But then Megumi basically implied that Yuuji wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret and they’d end up losing sponsors and- yeah. It’s a whole mess.” 

“He has a point, you know,” Gojo hums, “two drivers can’t end well.” 

“Well, the problem isn’t that he doesn’t make sense, it’s that its just the shit you’ve told him regurgitated. Yuuji wants to make it work, he wants to stay just as friends, and Megumi just basically told him they couldn’t be friends anymore, they had to be colleagues. Which-” 

“Okay, I get it, I get it.” Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose. “I get it. Megumi hadn’t said that to me.” 

Nobara looks at him. Her eyes are wide, like saucers. “Look. I don’t care about whatever happened with you and Getou and I don’t really care about Yuuji and Megumi either but they won’t even look at each other and Megumi says he doesn’t care about you but he actually really like absorbs everything you say so-” 

“Okay. I’ll talk to him,” 

“You’ll fix it?” 

“No promises.” Gojo smiles thinly. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Thursday Press Conference (Group One) - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Miwa Kasumi (Haein), Nobara KUGISAKI (Meiji) and Yuuta OKKOTSU (Scuderia Keicho) – Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Nobara, let’s start with you, welcome back after the holidays! How were they?

NOBARA KUGISAKI: Ha, good. Nice to have a break, but I missed it and I’m happy to be back again, now, and ready to fight for more points. 

Q: How are you feeling coming into the second half of the season, reflecting on the points you’ve scored and your performances in your first season?

NK : Uh, I want to achieve more. It’s hard, when you come into the sport with guys you were racing against really closely and then see this massive gap because of the machinery. But obviously Megumi has earnt his seat at a top team, and so has Yuuji, and I need to get my head down and deliver results that mean those top teams are interested in me in the future. 

Q: Speaking of teams, your contract for 2023 hasn’t been decided - any discussions on that front?

NK: No. 

Q: Okay, so, Miwa! Nice summer? 

MIWA KASUMI : Yeah! I got to go and do some stuff for the karting team in Spain, and then with some of the motorbike racers, which is super cool. 

Q: You were saying at the end of the first half of the season that you were looking forward to the break, has it helped to reset, at all?

MK: Yeah, definitely. It’s nice to spend time with family and just relax a bit. This sport is so full on, all the time, even when you’re not driving! 

Q: Coming to you, Gojo! Was your summer break okay? Where’d you go?

SATORU GOJO : [laughs] Just stayed in Monaco. Yuuji invited me to France to film some karting videos, so I suppose the public will see those soon and I’ll have embarrassed myself, but- yeah. A good break. Nice to be able to eat what I like for a bit before we have to get back on the training plans. 

Q: You come into the second half of the season leading the championship! How does that feel?

SG: Good. Especially by such a wide margin. But in 2014, you know, I had a lead of forty-ish points going into the second half, and I still got beaten by the end, so nothing’s decided yet. 

Q: Still, apart from 2014, every year you’ve had a lead into summer break, you’ve won the championship. Is that a good omen?

SG : [laughs] Don’t talk to me about omens, Haibara. Where’s some wood? Yeah, no, I’m about– what is it– seventy? Seventy points ahead of Yuuta, so it’s probably enough of a gap that- y’know. We find relaxing. We have a safety net. 

Q: Lastly, Yuuta! Anything interesting over the summer break that you got up to?

YUUTA OKKOTSU : No. Just went home to see family, friends, relax a bit. I did go karting with a couple friends, but it was more a bumper karts sort of thing. 

Q: You’re second in the championship standings coming into the second half of the season, and you’re quite a way back. How can you and Keicho close that gap?

YO: I think we can close it. We need a lot of determination and we probably need a little bit of luck, too, but I won’t give up until the championship’s over, and neither will the team. 

 

—

 

November 2011, Brazil

 

“You okay?” 

The amount of times that he’s been asked that in the last twenty four hours alone is dizzying. But at least this is Shoko, and she means well. 

“Yeah.” It’s weird, being here and not racing. Not being in the car, or pushed in front of the media, swept off his feet and gasping for air. Satoru is down there, somewhere, in the pitlane, getting ready whilst they’re up here in hospitality. Just watching. 

It’s a strange feeling. It’s the first time he’s just watched a race in almost two years. 

“Yeah.” 

“I feel left out, sometimes,” Shoko winces. “I made my choices and I live with them, but I wonder.” 

“You miss racing?” 

Shoko laughs, a bitter sound, and yet still soft in a way only she can be. Diluting her anger to make it more palatable. “No. But I had a G3 seat and I threw it away because I realised that even if I got to G1, with you two, I’d always be the girl who’s friends with world champions.” 

Suguru winces. “You never told me that.” 

“Satoru wouldn’t have wanted to hear it. He would’ve tried to convince me I was good enough, y’know, and I- I was scared of the speed a bit even in G4. When you really have to push.” 

Suguru knows what she means. He knows more intimately, now, that he’s been close to death from that speed, car crumpling around him, only being able to feel numb buzzing in his legs and wondering if that was it. 

And he still wants to get back in the car. He still wants to win. 

He could’ve won this season, had he not been forced out of it with four races left to go. Now it’s between Yuki and Satoru, with Satoru leading by five points going into this weekend. 

“It’s probably a good thing, then.” Suguru says, then bumps shoulders with her, grateful that he still can. Grateful that his back only twinges slightly when he does it. “Besides, it’s all three of us together again next year.” 

Shoko smiles. It’s soft in the sunlight. She’s wearing a sundress that goes to her knees, a beautiful gold necklace and rings on her fingers. He’s sure that a few of the drivers on the grid would take their chances with her, try and make her theirs. He wonders if he met her now, whether he’d try. 

She’s pretty, kind. She could loop her arm through his and smile and wave for the cameras and it would be good because the reporters and the fans would stop with the speculation articles about random female celebrities and about his relationship with Yuki. 

Sometimes he wants to be her. He wonders if he could be a girlfriend for someone and whether Satoru would even like him if he were a girl. He’s already got long hair and he’s already got wider hips than most guys and maybe if he played his cards right he could just be an extension. 

He supposes, rather belatedly, that he shouldn’t envy women’s lack of agency. Utahime complains about it all the time in interviews, being compared to her male counterparts. Suguru never really got it, and then he got it. 

“Us three, next year,” Shoko says, “I’m gonna annoy you, I bet.” 

“You’ll be fine.” Suguru hums, “you’re smart. Smarter than either of us.” 

“What if I told you I cheated?” 

“Did you?” 

Shoko just laughs, “Yaga hired me, so maybe he should be held accountable for that.” 

Really, Shoko is qualified for her new position as a performance engineer. She’ll be on Suguru’s side of the garage, working in the team, helping to flip the car in between practice sessions and qualifying and travelling with them. She’d gotten into a competitive degree in London early, at seventeen, and managed to wrangle a job with a racing team in England on the weekends whilst she was studying courtesy of someone her mom knew. The aim was always to get here. She’s underqualified on paper, sure, since she’s only got a bachelor’s, but the experience in teams up to G2 level across the UK made her an easy hire. 

Technically, for her first year, she’s an apprentice, finishing a master’s that she’s already started with a different G2 team right after she graduated. But then she’ll be a fully fledged engineer, on the same team as Satoru and Suguru, travelling with them, the three of them together again. 

He can’t wait. 

 

— 

 

Transcript for interview with Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Technical Racing) Pre-Qualifying Brazilian GP 2011

 

Q: Last race of the season, how are you feeling?

SATORU GOJO: Good. I like Interlagos, and I’m coming in with a championship lead, which is nice. 

Q: Speaking of that championship lead. All you have to do this race is finish ahead of Tsukumo. She beat you in Abu Dhabi, and Keicho is expecting the car to be good here. Are you confident that you can do it?

SG: Yeah, I mean. I have to be confident if I want to win. But I feel good, the car still feels good, and I’ve proven that I can race wheel-to-wheel with Yuki and do well. 

Q: She has more experience racing under this intense pressure than you do. Are you scared about that?

SG: Not if you reporters don’t try to make me scared! 

Q: And just one last thing- before his crash in Japan, Getou lead the points standings. If he hadn’t been involved in that crash, do you think you’d still be in the championship fight?

SG: Weird question, I’m gonna be honest. [pause] Um. Well. Yes, I do. I also think Suguru would still be in it. And I think that with the season he had, he deserved to still be in this, but he will be next year. For now, I’m gonna try and win it for him.

 

—

 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru murmurs into his shoulder. Suguru hums, running his hands up and down his friend’s back. Licking each other’s wounds. 

“It’s okay,” 

There was no big end to it, really. Yuki was just better, like she always is when the pressure gets put on. Pretty infallible. 

Satoru finished second. It wasn’t enough. 

“I wanted to win it for you,” he says, muffled and wet into his shoulder. They’re hidden behind the podium, in the shadows where no photographers can catch them. Satoru had held a brave face on the podium, but now he’s here, eyes squeezed shut. His fingers ghost over Suguru’s braided hair: the hair he’d braided for him hidden away in their driver rooms before the parade. 

“You’ll win it next year,” 

Satoru laughs, “you’re gonna win it. You’re quicker at adapting than me.” 

Suguru hums, feels it low in his throat. “I still can’t train. I’m not allowed to start again until February.” He gestures down at his arm, still in a sling, vaguely at his chest, where there’s still stitches from where the car crumpling had cut him open. “I reckon you have the upper hand,” 

Satoru groans at his bad joke, but he still laughs. They’re just on the edge of sincerity together, Suguru thinks. 

“Okay, come on, podium stuff, you have to go.” 

And the moment is broken. Satoru wipes his eyes, takes a steadying breath. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you after.” 

 

—

 

Yuki Tsukumo is a three time world champion. 

So there’s still a party, of course. Three minutes into said party, someone offers both Yuki and Suguru a bump, which, after the two months he’s had, Suguru takes gratefully. Not like they’re drug testing him at the moment, is it?

Yuki laughs, tipping her head back, shouting over the music. “I’m sorry, for being a dick about Jujutsu Tech, they’re a good team!” 

Suguru can feel the drugs hitting and the alcohol slowing him down and for once he can’t feel the pain in his ribs that’s been nagging him since the crash. “It’s okay,” 

“You and Gojo together? God, I’m never gonna win another championship.” 

“You were lucky to win this one,” Suguru points out, waving his drink in her face. 

“Oh, trust me, I know.” 

“Thank you, for being my teammate.” Suguru blurts. “I’ve learnt a lot from you,” 

Yuki smiles.

 

—

 

BREAKING: G2 3RD PLACE FINISHER AMANAI RIKO TO RACE FOR NARA IN G1 IN 2012 

 

—

 

August 2022, Belgium

 

He tracks down Yuuji first, because trying to wrangle Megumi when he’s like this is like trying to pick up a hedgehog that’s balled up with all spikes. 

And besides, Megumi never really tells the whole truth. Gojo supposes he learnt it from him, but he’s more obvious about it, and it’s like trying to revive a fish by shaking it. It just doesn’t work. 

He gets his hotel room number from Getou, and then marches all the way up the stairs to give himself some time to think of what to say, but it doesn’t count for much. Because the second Yuuji opens the door, rubbing his eyes, Gojo blurts, “why aren’t you and Megumi talking?” 

Yuuji doesn’t even have the energy to look bewildered and confused like he usually would at a statement like that. “Maybe come in instead of blurting that out in the hallway?” 

Gojo steps into Yuuji’s room. It’s a mess, clothes everywhere, mostly the red of Keicho’s team merch and his caps and a few mini helmets. “You’re signing stuff in here?”

“Yeah, they let me, so.” 

Gojo feels a wave of guilt seeing it, all of a sudden. Seeing Yuuji’s slump. 

“Are you here to tell me off or what?” Yuuji huffs, “‘Cause if you are, I’d really rather you just leave.” 

“I- no. I don’t know what happened between you two, really, but both of you are miserable,” 

“He seemed fucking fine in the pressers,” Yuuji says, and yeah, Gojo forgot they were grouped together today. Sat on opposite ends of the couches, probably. 

“Is it that bad?” 

“He said we should act like colleagues. Like- I’ve known him since we were in karts. We were teammates in G4. We did all these stupid videos together and now he’s saying nah, let’s just- it was just-” Yuuji takes a deep breath. “It was just a kiss. And we were drunk as hell, anyway. High, maybe, too, I dunno,” 

“He still wants to be friends with you.” 

Yuuji blinks. “Why are you here about it, anyway? It’s not your fault.” 

Gojo half-heartedly thinks that it might be. “Can I stay for a bit?” 

Yuuji nods, “I’m about to eat though,” 

“That’s okay.” Then he sighs, smiles, “are you excited to get out on track?” 

He still knows Yuuji well, because his face lights up and he grins with all his teeth as he launches into a rant about how much he loves racing here, how much he likes the corners and the speed and the challenge and the brilliance of it all. 

Gojo listens. He could use the distraction. 

 

—

 

In the first free practice session, Gojo has a lockup through La Source at turn one, and manages to spin out into the runoff area, and then into the barriers. It barely hurts, and it’s not exactly his fault, given the data shows a brake balance issue, but it still stings and it causes a red flag and delayed running. 

The turnaround the mechanics perform for his car to get back out on track is nothing short of remarkable. He thanks them all, and Shoko stands to the side and pats at his shoulder. “No more shunts, yeah?” 

Gojo looks at his car, grins, and agrees. 

 

—

 

Megumi is quiet. Even more so than usual. It’s weird, seeing him eat and scroll on his phone without suppressing giggles at something Yuuji’s sent him. 

So he sits next to him to have a snack, obviously. 

“Why are you here?” 

“Oh, you’re charming, Megs. I just thought you could use the company.” 

Megumi shrugs like he doesn’t care. Toto puffs out his chest and sticks out his tongue, and Gojo briefly wonders if it’s possible to be intimidated by a dog. 

“Is Nobara not talking to you either?” 

There’s a pause, and Megumi’s face does this weird, indescribable thing before it settles on nonchalance again. “She is. She’s just better friends with Yuuji.” 

“Right, so you can’t be professional with her, either?” 

“I don’t need this from you. Come on, you barely talked to Getou for like, a decade.” 

It stings, but it’s probably fair, all things considered. “Why did you say to Yuuji that you couldn’t be friends with him?” 

“It’s what you told me. To race, you make that decision- I-” 

“Okay, that’s not what I was saying.” 

Megumi narrows his eyes at him. “Okay, what were you saying, then?” 

“I meant being in a relationship with him, not being friends with him.” 

“He wanted a relationship with me-” 

“He wants to be friends with you.” 

Megumi drags a hand over his face. “Yeah, but I need more space probably, now that-” he stops himself mid-sentence, biting the inside of his cheek. “That I know that.”

“He’s upset about it, y’know?” 

Megumi doesn’t fight him on that, at least, his hand dropping to card through Toto’s fur. “Yeah. I know,” 

The I am too goes unsaid, but it’s still just as loud. 

“Come on. Practice soon.” 

 

—

 

February 2012, France

 

“Well, I won’t sugarcoat it,” 

Jujutsu Tech has assigned him a new personal trainer for the new season, for the new team. Micheal. Mick. He’s shorter than Suguru, but also probably skinnier than him, built like Satoru is: lean. In his thirties. Maybe early forties. 

“It’s okay,” Suguru says, flexing his hand and rolling back his previously shattered collarbone. It feels okay, now, an afterthought. His back still irks him, but the doctors think that will go away with time. 

“You’ve put on about five kilos with the lack of training, that will need to come off before the season starts. And then we’ll need to take more weight off, to try and keep up with Gojo’s weight.” 

Suguru’s stomach drops. He’s already going to miss pre-season testing, or at least a big chunk of it, because of his injuries and continued rehab programmes. They don’t want to rush him into the car, whatever that means. “Right.”

“So, a new meal plan, probably,” Mick hums, tapping at the edge of the clipboard. “It’ll be pretty full on, but they’re telling me you’re good, that you can handle it.” 

Suguru nods. He can. The five kilos will go with a snap of his fingers, he knows it. It’s only because he’s not been training properly for a while that he’s put that weight on, anyway. 

“Right, okay. I’ll send it in emails, have it printed out for you,” Mick smiles, “you’ll be back in shape in no time.” 

He texts Satoru as soon as he’s out of the room, still getting somewhat lost in the corridors. 

The assembly factory for JTR is in France, the outskirts of Nice. Apparently Satoru had bullied the team principal and Yaga to build it there for easy access to Monaco, where they’re moving in a couple of weeks. But for now it’s hotels, motorhomes, floating around and hoping they stick somewhere. 

“Suguru!” Satoru shouts from the end of the corridor, “you ready?” 

He lets his friend fling an arm around him and drag him down the corridors. 

“You wanna go out tonight? Shoko said she’ll pay.” 

“We earn more than five times her salary,” Suguru huffs, thinking of the hotel Satoru had paid for for their week’s stay in France. Soon, they’ll head back to Italy and get their stuff for the last time before they get the keys to their apartments in Monaco.

“Okay, you can pay then,” Satoru huffs. “Are you coming?” 

He thinks back to his conversation with Mick and sighs. “Probably not. I need to lose weight again.” 

“So? Get a salad or something,” Satoru huffs, “come on.” 

The thought of eating another salad scrambles Suguru’s brain. He can barely swallow them when he’s alone in his room, let alone in a restaurant. “Nah, go on, go with her, have fun. It’s just until I drop the weight from being out of training since October,” 

“Right,” Satoru hums. “Can I see your plan? We can train together, maybe,” 

“Yeah, sure,” 

 

—

 

The first time he gets in the sim, it’s awful. The car feels like it wants to kill him, and it’s horribly sensitive, in a way the Keicho never was. Delta positive rings again and again in his ears, said about the gap between him and Satoru over and over. But Satoru is also out doing testing in the actual car, and he’s driven it for two seasons already, so really the comparison is-

No. The comparison is reasonable. Just because he’s new, and just because he’s rusty, doesn’t mean he has an excuse to be slow. 

“You’re getting quicker, kid,” Yaga slaps him on the shoulder, looking over at the data. “When are you back in the car?” The answer to that is soon. March. He still has a long way to go, and his neck needs more training before they can be sure everything is safe again. But Yaga doesn’t wait for his response. “You’re incredible, really, to be back so well. We were afraid you’d miss the beginning of the season.” 

Later, Suguru scrolls through the texts with his mom. The last conversation is back in late October, a why did you not tell me about your accident followed by you never asked, mom, it wasn’t that bad. 

Then followed by you almost died. Are you okay?

Suguru had ignored that one. What kind of mother picks and chooses when to care?

He thinks about texting her now. Any weight loss tips? Any way you know how to deal with the immense pressure of being in a team that could win a world championship?

A hug, maybe? 

She’s in Japan. And despite their team being technically Japanese, the only thing that’s from there is their investors and their engine parts. So he won’t go back, and she won’t come here. And that’s all it is, really. 

 

—

 

August 2022, Belgium

 

Qualifying looks like it’ll be tight. Yuuji has been putting in good times all weekend so far, alternating with Gojo for a the top spot on the timesheets in the practice sessions. Megumi, too, is hot on their heels, and Yuuta is consistent as always. 

But he’s not as fast. 

Their problem is that Sengoku has found a bit of pace over summer break, nipping at the heels of the two top teams again, and they could cause some problems come Sunday. 

In the grand scheme of things, Gojo and Megumi can afford to lose some track positions given Spa is great for overtakes, and both of them have half decent racecraft. Particularly Gojo, who hasn’t struggled with tyre management the entire season. 

Gojo privately tells Shoko that he’d much rather save an extra set of softs for the race than have a time that’s half a second quicker on the board, and she nods and agrees. “I wouldn’t give the same advice to Megumi, given his tyre management, but I’d be pretty confident with you starting as low as P5 and managing to make your way through the field.” 

“Aw, thanks Shoko,” Gojo grins, looping an arm over her shoulder and looking at the endless lines of data dipping in front of them. Braking point at turn five could be later. Megumi’s is. 

“Don’t let it get to your head. You’re more than capable of qualifying in the top three, so go out and do it.” 

Gojo thinks about it as he lowers himself into the cockpit, thinks about it as he puts his gloves on and gets handed his helmet. He takes a deep breath, and drives. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Qualifying Top Three Press Conference - Belgian Grand Prix 2022 – Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: Welcome to our top three qualifiers! In third, Satoru Gojo, in second, a nice surprise, Nanami Kento, and in first, starting off well, Yuuji Itadori! Yuuji, that was a phenomenal lap, and I know the times were close out there today, but wow. Pulling half a second to your teammate. How did you do it?

YUUJI ITADORI: Uh, I’m not sure, to be honest. The car felt really, really, really good out there, and I love this track, like, a lot! So maybe that’s it? 

Q: Maybe. You’re coming into the second half of the season still in mathematical distance of catching Gojo for the championship, but the gap is large. Do you think you could still do it?

YI: It’s been done before, although I think the gap was much smaller. [laughs] [to Gojo] Just have to pull off what Getou did in 2014, I should ask him. 

SATORU GOJO: [to Itadori] Oh, I’m sure he’ll tell you, mind games and all.

YI: Nah, but seriously, yeah, I still think I can do it. I’ve had bad luck in the first half of the season, but I’ve also had good results and I think that it’s fair for me to be confident. 

Q: Okay, Nanami, to you. This has really snuck up on us, we weren’t expecting to see Sengoku here at all! How does it feel to be back up here?

NANAMI KENTO: Good, of course. To have Inumaki behind in fifth, too, is something we weren’t expecting. But I think Yuuta had a bad last lap, or had to bail, or something, so we probably should be lower than we are. Nevertheless we’re going to capitalise on this result and bring it home tomorrow. 

Q: The summer break has been good to you in terms of pace. Are you expecting to be able to keep up tomorrow over a long distance?

NK : We’ll see. Gojo’s tyre deg in particular this season has been massively impressive, and it’s definitely one of Jujutsu’s strengths. 

Q: Last but not least, Gojo. Third, how are you feeling?

SG: Ah, not too bad you know! I’ll get both of these guys tomorrow. Of course my last lap I had a minor lockup through La Source [note: turn 1] so this isn’t the fastest I could go, but I’m happy with third on the grid. 

Q:You’ve got a pretty substantial lead in the championship overall at this point, and your biggest competitor is down the grid in sixth. Does it feel like you might have one hand on it already?

SG: [laughs] Don’t bait me for a quote, Yuki. Uh, well, yeah Yuuta’s down in sixth but Yuuji is ahead of me, and he’s definitely not out of the running yet either. We have a safety net, but we still need to watch the two Keicho drivers behind us. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR:

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Grade One Daily): Uh, question for Gojo, please. You and Megumi are the most evenly matched duo of the top teams today, with only just over a tenth and a half separating you, but in terms of experience you have the biggest gap. Why do you think the gaps between the others are so large compared to you two?

SG: Mate. I dunno! Not my team, is it? [pauses] If you want a genuine answer, Yuuta messed up out there today, creating somewhat of a false gap, and so did I. I had pace for pole and I probably lost two tenths through that lockup. So the gap between me and Megumi is closer than it should be, y’know? 

Q (GRACE DAILY - Motorsport Weekly): Question for Yuuji, please. You’re still within mathematical touching distance of that elusive first championship, but Yuuta is currently ahead of you in the points. Will you give way to him on track to help in the fight for the drivers’ championship, should it come down to it?

YI: I will follow team orders. But I’m not going to stop fighting for my own races and my own championship. We still have a lot of races left. 

 

—

 

Me: dam yuujis locked in

Me: kinda scared of the kid

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : Yeah he definitely wants it badly enough.

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : Only so far that we can prioritise Yuuta if he keeps out qualifying him

 

Me: lemme sell that to the papers rq

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : You would never

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : I’ll tell him you’re scared of him tho:)

 

—

 

March 2012, Australia 

 

Satoru is sitting across from Suguru, vibrating out of his seat. In the last round of preseason testing, he’d posted the fastest time on low fuel loads, quicker by a tenth than Yuki. It’s something that hasn’t happened for the team before, and Satoru is excited about it. Which, naturally means he’s sat picking at the skin around his fingernails. 

“Stop.” 

Satoru unclenches his jaw, then tenses again. “I’m just- they know we’re fast. We’re fast enough to do it this year.” 

Satoru is, at least. Suguru’s times were closer to the midfield than they were to Keicho, and to his own teammate. It’s the only time he’s ever been off the pace, and the journalists have already been writing up a storm: has he lost his touch? Were his years in Keicho a fluke? Was his whole career a fluke? Has he lost it? Has the injury damaged him beyond repair? 

At first, Suguru had scoffed at them, then he’d gone down a rabbit hole of tweets and found a comment from Fushiguro and the Sengoku team principal which was something to the effect of: glad we didn’t sign him!  

Which, like, this whole thing is Fushiguro’s fault, anyway, but. 

Mick says the times will drop down with his weight, the extra kilos making a world of difference. Suguru is back down to his pre-injury weight, now, but Satoru is easily five kilos lighter than him, and it’s making a difference. 

He doesn’t say any of this to Satoru, though. He just knocks his foot against the inside of his knee and grins. “Yeah. We’re gonna win this race.” 

“Double podium?” Satoru grins, eyes shining. He hasn’t put his sunglasses on yet, saving them for when they get to the track and things devolve into chaos. Together, they’ll weather the storm of journalists and questions and come out on the other side. Suguru’s sure of it. And he likes that he can be sure of it as Satoru kicks him back, leaning forward in the car. 

“Yeah,” Suguru says.

The car pulls up at the track, and through tinted windows, Suguru can hear the screams of the crowd, of the fans, the roar of it all. Racing feels like a living, breathing animal that morphs around them, sometimes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Yaga pulls open the door, and the sunlight floods in as Satoru grabs for his sunglasses. Covering up his eyes in this light is a shame, really. 

“Ready, boys?” Yaga grins, pulling Satoru out of the car and watching as Suguru climbs out too. Instinctively, he waves to the crowd, and watches as Satoru looks at him through tinted lenses, smile loose and easy. If every race weekend is like this, he could probably handle not being on the podium, not winning. 

“Yeah.” 

 

—

 

“You feeling okay?” 

Utahime smiles, soft and sure. The red of Keicho suits her: she’s been moved up from Nara to take her place among the top teams after a good performance in a lower-midfield car. She’s been close enough to Yuki all weekend so far to be acceptable, but not as close as Suguru was. Not close enough to be a threat. 

She’s fiddling with her T-Shirt, pursing her lips together. “Yeah, I mean- just a lot of pressure, isn’t it? A new team.” 

They entered G1 at the same time, and yet they’re so far apart. Utahime still has her hair in bunches, and she’s still largely disinterested in the politics of racing. Suguru is neck deep in it. 

“Yeah.” 

Then Riko bounds up behind them, all smiles and the same bunches and dark hair swaying. “Oh my god, I’m so excited, I think I’m buzzing.” 

Utahime laughs, grabbing at her shoulders and shaking her. “Don’t mess up my car!” 

Amanai laughs, says something about it not being her car anymore. It doesn’t matter. Suguru watches them and grins. Now that Haibara and Nanami are on the G2 grid, they’re all together again. The original G4 crew, plus Amanai. 

It’s a nice feeling. 

 

—

 

G1 ROUND ONE BREAKDOWN: TRIUMPH FOR JTR, KEICHO HOT ON THEIR HEELS / G1 News

Written by David Cook, 18th March 2012

 

Satoru Gojo drove to claim the first victory of 2012 for Jujutsu Technical Racing in Melbourne on Sunday, winning with a convincing gap of over ten seconds to second place Yuki Tsukumo at Albert Park. The twenty-three year old has found himself the unexpected favourite for the driver’s championship this season after many expected Keicho’s run of dominance to continue. 

Gojo spoke in the press conference about the success: “yeah, I’m happy with the result. We always have to keep pushing and Keicho will catch us, but it’s great to start with a win, and we will use the momentum well.” 

Tsukumo, despite the surprise from fans and the teams, seemed less surprised about the development of JTR than her peers: “of course, Gojo is fast. We knew this. He has an ability to extract every last bit of pace from the cars he drives, and this is no exception. He’s going to provide good competition this year, I’m sure of it.” 

Iori Utahime rounded out the podium in the second Keicho, followed by Fushiguro in the Sengoku and then Suguru Getou, returning to racing for the first time since his accident in Suzuka last year, rounding out the top five: “I can’t say I’m surprised. I’m carrying more weight than I should be, and I’ve only completed one of the pre-season tests due to my lack of being able to train over winter break. Unfortunately this is racing, it’s a new car that I find more difficult to drive, and I’ve been transparent with the teams about what I need to do to get back to the podium going forward. But mainly I’m happy for the team, and I’m happy for Satoru.” 

Rookie Amanai Riko also turned heads, scoring points on her G1 debut when she finished eighth for Nara. “I’m so happy with it, honestly I’m just happy to be here and I’m excited to try and do more.”  

 

POINTS AFTER R1 - G1 CHAMPIONSHIP 2012

1st - Satoru GOJO / JTR / 26 pts

2nd - Yuki TSUKUMO / SK / 18 pts

3rd - Iori UTAHIME / SK / 15 pts

4th - Toji FUSHIGURO / SEN / 12 pts

5th - Suguru GETOU / JTR / 10 pts

 

SEE COMMENTS:

 

Gojofan37 : That’s MY world champion

 

Scuderiafans : good start for Yuki, she could still clinch this for a 4th WDC

 

Katiejon3s : I genuinely cannot predict who will win this season, we’re in for a real treat

 

Justinracing : A shame that getou seems to have lost the performance from last season, it’s probably between gojo and tsukumo now

> Sengoku1236 : don’t count fushiguro out either tho! 

 

—

 

August 2022, Belgium

 

Gojo doesn’t usually pay attention to other drivers once they’re on the grid, but by sheer coincidence, he ends up stood next to Yuuji when the anthem plays. 

It hasn’t happened yet this season, so he finds himself looking at the way his hair blows lightly in the wind, the way his cheeks flush when the grid kid looks up at him with a toothy grin. He blinks slowly, ruffles his hair, and gives the kid his cap, readjusts the ear defenders over it. 

There’s care in every little action. A lot of people say Yuuji is a bit of an idiot, only good for racing, airheaded. But Gojo doesn’t think that’s true. He’s just happy to be here, and absorbed in the sport in a way that makes him seem less calculated than some of the others. 

The anthem ends, and Yuuji peels away. Gojo watches the way his shoulders set as he turns, and Getou meets him in front of his car, saying something to him in low tones. Gojo wishes he could go over, wish them luck, wish them safety, do something, but the cameras follow him like a hawk. 

Yaga claps his hand across his shoulder as he leaves the grid, and then it’s just Gojo, alone, pulling his helmet over his head and shooting out a quick prayer to whatever higher power that everything falls into place. 

“Radio check.”

“Copy. Radio working,” 

“Good. Come on, let’s go win a race.” 

 

—

 

RADIo TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - BELGIAN GP 2022

 

LAP 1:  

 

TODOU : Good job, nice getaway, car behind is Kento. 

ITADORI : Copy. Keep me updated on the pace. 

 

KENTO : Keep me updated on the gaps on both sides, please. 

INO : Copy, gap to Itadori in front is 0.8, gap to Gojo behind is 0.7. We need to pull away from him as much as possible, we don’t want him getting DRS. 

 

GOJO : Ah, I tried off the line. 

IERI : P3, we have a long race ahead of us. Focus. 

GOJO : Come on, man.

 

LAP 12 : 

 

TODOU : Box, box. 

ITADORI : Copy. 

 

KENTO : They’re pitting Yuuji?

INO : He is on a two-stop strategy, keep managing. 

 

IERI : Gojo you are P2, P2. Overtake critical. 

GOJO : How am I P2?

IERI : Yuuji’s on a two-stop, let’s get past Nanamin and push. 

GOJO : Copy, gap in front? 

IERI : 1.1. 

 

LAP 15: 

 

IERI : P1, Gojo, let’s go. Can you push these tyres?

GOJO : Clean air is helping, but I don’t have much left. 

 

KENTO : Tyres are dead, there was nothing I could do. 

INO : Copy. Box for mediums, box for mediums. 

 

TODOU : Nice. You are now P4, P4. Car in front is Fushiguro. 

ITADORI : He’s sliding all over the place. 

TODOU : Copy. You have DRS enabled. 

 

FUSHIGURO : These tyres are gone. I dunno how much I can defend. 

KAMO : Copy. Itadori is on an alternate strategy, and has to stop again. You can let him by. 

FUSHIGURO : Will it help Gojo if I hold him up?

KAMO : Yes, but don’t sacrifice your own race or your tyres. 

FUSHIGURO : Copy. 

 

LAP 19: 

 

KAMO : You put up a nice fight out there. Well done. 

FUSHIGURO : My tyres are going. 

KAMO : Copy, box box. 

 

ITADORI : Oh my god, that was hard. 

TODOU : You got him. Now let’s get past Gojo. 

ITADORI : Copy! 

 

LAP 20: 

 

GOJO : Tyres are gone, man. 

IERI : Copy, box for mediums. 

GOJO : Copy. Let’s make it quick, yeah?

 

LAP 24: 

 

ITADORI : Gap behind? 

TODOU : Twenty-five seconds to Kento in P2, twenty-seven to Fushiguro in P3, then twenty eight to Gojo in P4. 

ITADORI : Can I push more?

TODOU : Yes. 

 

LAP 25: 

 

KAMO : Let Gojo past this lap, he is faster than you. 

FUSHIGURO : Copy. 

 

LAP 27: 

 

KENTO : Christ, that Jujutsu’s caught up, is it Gojo?

INO : Gojo behind, gap 1.1. 

KENTO : ****. 

 

LAP 29:

 

IERI : Nice move. Old school. 

GOJO : What’s the gap to Yuuji?

IERI : Twenty nine. It’s gonna be tight when he pits, let’s try and take advantage of the clean air. 

GOJO : Copy. 

 

LAP 32: 

 

IERI : Yellow flags, Gojo, yellow flags, Eau Rouge.

GOJO : Copy. Do we box for new mediums? 

IERI : Hold out, could be reds. 

 

KAMO : Yellows in Eau Rouge. Slow down, keep your delta positive. 

FUSHIGURO : That was a Keicho, who was it?

KAMO : Confirming. 

 

INO : Yellow flags through Eau Rouge, we will likely have a safety car. 

KENTO : Everyone okay?

INO : Confirming. 

 

TODOU : Yuuji, are you okay? 

[Pause] 

TODOU : Yuuji are you okay, please respond. 

ITADORI : [Muffled groaning] ****, yeah I’m okay, sorry boys. 

TODOU : Copy, stay where you are, medical car is on it’s way. 

ITADORI : ****ing hell, yeah, okay, I’m okay. Sorry. 

 

GOJO : ****, that looked bad. No red flags?

IERI : Still a yellow flag for now. 

GOJO : That’s gotta be a red. Is he okay?

IERI : He’s conscious, responding on the radio. 

GOJO : Thank god. 

 

KAMO : Red flags, return to the pits, please. 

FUSHIGURO : Was that Yuuji? Is he okay?

KAMO : He’s conscious. Still confirming. 

 

—

 

The car has to be recovered and the debris has to be cleared. Yuuji is okay, mostly, and Gojo watches with a sick sense of relief on the screens as they pull him from the wreck. 

“What happened?” 

Shoko grimaces. “Lock-up, lost control. Driver error.” 

Gojo breathes in, then out. He won’t watch the replay, not when he still has to get back in the car, but- 

“They’re gonna crucify him.” 

Shoko bites at her nails. “Yeah, probably. Yuuta better pull through, now.” 

“He pulled through when I had bad luck,” Gojo hums, “but I dunno what’s going to happen now.” 

 

—

 

At the restart, Gojo loses his lead to Nanami, then the MGU-K fails in the last three laps and he limps home for fifth. Yaga praises him on the damage control, but losing to Yuuta isn’t really something that Gojo really planned on doing, even if Yuuta is only in third behind Megumi, who held out well to stay in the podium positions.

He finishes his press as quickly as possible, circling around the pen like cattle, speaking in about three different languages about engine failure and managing expectations, and hoping he comes across as disappointed but not too scared, and shows sympathy for Yuuji when he’s asked. The gap between him and Yuuta has shrunk. The reporters flock to that detail like sharks to blood. 

When Gojo gets back to his drivers’ room, he just wants to lie down and sleep for two days straight, but everyone is milling about and packing up for the double header - they’re off to the Netherlands stupidly early in the morning, and Gojo won’t go home in between. Most of them won’t. 

He texts Yuuji, a quick yo u ok? not expecting a response, but one comes immediately. 

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : yea im gd

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : given me painkillers but nothings broken

 

Me: ur gd man have they cleared u

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : yea

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : getous gonna be pissed at me

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : hvnt seen him yet

 

Me: he’ll jus b glad ur ok

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : m8. 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : that crash was absolutely my fault

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : i lost focus

 

Me: u survived a pretty big crash thru eau rouge focus on tht man

Me: u want me to come find u?

 

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : nah its ok

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : nobaras here

YUUJI ITADORI ☆ : thnx tho

 

Gojo sighs and opens up his text thread with Getou.

 

Me: u mad at yuuji?

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : Yes, it was his fault. But I think he’s beating himself up enough about it. Shouting at him will accomplish nothing

 

Me: hes worried ab it yk

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : I’ll talk to him. He’ll be fine. 

 

Me: u at the celebrations tn?

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3 : Depends, are you?

 

Me: Suguruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

 

—

 

OFFICIAL G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FOURTEEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	262
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	213
3	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	181
4	Nanami KENTO (+1)	Sengoku	177
5	Megumi FUSHIGURO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	173
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	144
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	89
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	60
9	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	57
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	54

OFFICIAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FOURTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	435
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	395
3	Sengoku (=)	321
4	Meiji (=)	149
5	Haein (=)	66
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	56

 

—

 

Nanami gets drunk enough that night that he allows champagne to be poured straight down his throat, laughing with the adrenaline of a win well-fought for, and unlikely to be repeated this season. 

Later, Getou comes back to Gojo’s hotel with him, presses him up against the wall, licks his lips, and says, husky, as he sinks to his knees, “let me?” 

Gojo lets him. He nods his head so far it almost falls off his neck, and then stifles his moans through it. 

They’re both sober. 

 

—

 

Gojo wakes up to a banging on his door, and everything being hazy. Then, everything rapidly comes into full focus, including, but not limited to: 

His phone, dead on his bedside table. 

Getou dead asleep next to him. 

Shoko’s voice, insistent, outside. 

He scrambles out of bed, grabs a robe and manages to get to the door in one piece. 

“Oh my god, Gojo, come on-” Shoko frowns, looking him up and down. “You were asleep?” 

“My phone died.” Gojo hopes he isn’t sweating. He feels shaky. “What time is it.” 

“We needed to leave for the airport ten minutes ago. I told you to not go overboard-” Shoko shoulders her way into the room, and any other time, that would be fine, but right now it’s really, really not- “listen, you get dressed, and I’ll take your bags down-” 

“Shoko, really, it’s fine-” 

“Gojo, we need to-” she rounds the corner to where the bed is, with Gojo in tow, and they both come face to face with Getou, who is sitting up in the only bed, shirtless, and his mouth set in a fine line. 

Gojo counts the seconds that they all stand staring at each other. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five- “What the fuck.” Shoko says, gritting her teeth, “what the fuck do you two think you’re doing?!”

“It was just-” Suguru says, grimacing, at the same time that Satoru blurts, “I promise this isn’t just a one-time-” 

Shoko looks between the two of them, bewildered, as they both snap their mouths shut. “Well, which is it? Please tell me this isn’t just because of the party last night,” 

“Neither of us drank.” Gojo says, reflexively, defensive. He knew Shoko probably wouldn’t approve, exactly, but the hostility is- 

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse,” laughing hollowly, Shoko waves a hand at Getou. “And you? Seriously? Your driver was injured yesterday, and you were partying?” 

“And the other driver got a podium.” Getou narrows his eyes, pressing his lips together, “you of all people do not get to tell me how to do my job.” 

Gojo feels like he’s mediating a divorce, all of a sudden. He wants the floor to swallow him whole. 

“Right, so here’s what we’re gonna do, because you two are apparently stupid enough to do this on a race weekend and risk a scandal and both of your careers. Gojo, get dressed, you’re coming down with me. You-” she points at Getou, “-are going to wait an hour before you go back to your own hotel, and I am going to call this hotel and say we lost the keycard. Got it?” 

Getou nods, looking away. Gojo feels like the floor has opened up and swallowed him. 

“Yeah,” Getou says, jaw flexing in the low light. Shoko shoots him one last glare, and then grabs Gojo’s bags off the floor, picking them up and storming out the room. 

“Five minutes. We can’t make the plane wait forever.” 

The door slams behind her and Getou releases a breath into the space between them. “Not how I imagined that one going.” 

“Not ideal, yeah.” 

They glance at each other for a moment, before Gojo snorts out a laugh. He can’t help it. He watches a blush rise to Getou’s cheeks. “God, I thought she was going to kill me.” 

“She still might.” Getou huffs, crossing the boundary between them and wrapping his fingers in Gojo’s hair: a comforting gesture. Satoru leans into it and hums. “Come on, go meet her. I’ll see you in Zandvoort.” 

They kiss for a moment, Gojo leaning down to meet Getou, smiling into it. It’s real. It’s real, it’s real, it’s real. 

When he gets down to the car, cheeks still flushed, and sees Megumi still moping and Shoko refusing to look at him, he thinks that maybe it’s a bit too real. 

 

—

 

Notes:

warnings: eating disorder/weight mentions, drug use, mentions of grief, descriptions of crashes.

please comment for a kiss, come find me on tumblr!!

the circuit mentioned in this chapter is Spa Francorchamps!

Chapter 15: xv - shakedown

Summary:

A brief test when a team is trying a different car part for the first time before going back out to drive at 100 percent to set a fast time.

Notes:

tifosi how are we feeling (screams into void)
cried writing this chapter, bone apple teeth, enjoy. IF YOU READ THE ORIGINAL UPLOAD OF CHP14 GO BACK AND REREAD IT! the timeline was wrong specifically surrounding riko!
if u want ambience, listen to coldplay's x&y until November 2012, Brazil. Then listen to frank ocean's white ferrari. ur welcome
warnings at the end for those who need. nothing is untagged.

May 2012, Monaco

 

“What the hell is that?” Satoru leans over Suguru’s shoulders, jostling him as they walk through the pitlane. Amanai immediately looks over, too, knocking him further towards Satoru as they walk. 

“What?” Suguru replies, letting Satoru peer at his phone, “I dunno what you’re looking at.” 

“My contact name,” he whines, “that’s so sad-” 

“It’s your name.” Suguru huffs, yanking the phone away from him, “what’s wrong with your name?” 

“Shoko has a little star next to hers! I’m your best friend, do I not get, like, a star? A heart?” 

Of course that’s what Satoru is worried about. Not the millions of sponsor events this weekend, not the racing. No. His contact name. “Shoko gave herself the star.”

“Wait, do I have a star? I should get a star, too!” Amanai practically climbs on him from the other side, trying to pry his phone from his hands. They’re just as bad as each other, really. 

“You have hearts in my phone,” Satoru continues, sulking, “why can’t I have hearts in yours?” 

Riko cheers as she manages to wrench Suguru’s phone out of his hands. Somehow. He lets it go as she scrolls, looking for her contact. 

“What? I do not have hearts in your phone.” 

“Uh-huh, yes you do-” Satoru pulls out his phone, scrolling through it with a furious little smirk on his lips. Idly, Suguru thinks about pulling on his hair and turning him so he can kiss it off him, but it fizzes low in the back of his brain, never really coming to fruition. “Here.” 

Suguru leans down, squinting at the screen in the sunlight. His contact name reads Suguru ICE <3<3<3 , which is a bit excessive, but whatever. “What does ice mean?” 

“Oh.” Satoru flushes, “I-C-E, like. Um. In case of emergency. I added it after your crash last year, ‘cause if I have a crash like that I want the hospital to tell you where I am and stuff. Like, so you can be there. I’d want you there.” 

Okay, that’s a lot to unpack. Suguru feels himself blush right the way down to his chest and prays it can be blamed on the heat. “I’d be there for you anyway,” 

“I know because we’re teammates now, but sometimes it helps. Like, they know who to let in. So.” 

Riko laughs, and gives his phone to Satoru. “I changed my contact name.” 

When Suguru gets his phone back, Satoru’s contact name is the love of my life <3 ICE. 

He doesn’t have the heart to change it. Besides, it’s funny, when his phone lights up when he’s sitting next to Yuki at dinner later that night, and she grins, all teeth, “found yourself a girlfriend?” 

 

—

 

One of the bonuses of finally living in Monaco is that he lives next to Satoru all the time, now. They barge into each other’s apartments all the time, to cook, or eat, or watch the TV. Mostly just to annoy each other. 

The other benefit is that when they’re racing in Monaco, they can stay at home. No motorhomes, no hotels. Just them in their apartments. Well-

Haibara’s here, too. And Nanami. And Riko. And Shoko. And then, only because Shoko is there, Utahime. Haibara posts a photo of all their mattresses lined up on Satoru’s bedroom floor with all the blankets, with everyone lying all over them. In the photo, Riko and Satoru are bundled up together under one blanket, with Riko doing little peace signs. Suguru is looking at them, and he recognises the fondness on his own face. Nanami looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, which is fair. 

They spend the entire night debating the accuracy of the Cars franchise (they come to the conclusion that it’s not accurate in the slightest) and then debating what kind of racing it’s based off - “NASCAR, you fucking idiot-” - and then Haibara almost chokes on an olive and they debate calling the emergency services for a bit.

The night before the actual race, it won’t be like this. They’ll all be in full focus mode, sleeping alone and trying to get in the zone for the mental challenge that is going full out in Monaco without shunting themselves into a wall. 

But this, after media day and before two practice sessions, is nice. It’s warm. He watches Satoru snore loudly as Haibara giggles, recording him. Counts to five, then crawls over to wake him up. He wouldn’t like the video being posted to Twitter, after all. 

When Satoru wakes up, he almost punches Suguru right in the face, and Haibara dies laughing. 

The video gets posted to Twitter anyway. 

 

—

 

August 2022, the Netherlands

 

The flight to the Netherlands only takes about an hour. Small mercies, when Shoko doesn’t seem to want to talk to him, and Megumi looks pale, ignoring everyone apart from Toto. There’s only so much tapping on his phone Gojo can do before he starts to feel awkward. 

The transfer to the hotel is short, and they split apart then, anyway, with Shoko heading straight down to the track. The engineers really do get a much shorter end of the stick than the drivers, a lot of the time. 

When he hears a knock on the door, he expects Megumi. Or Yaga, maybe, to tell him to come to the track with them.

What he does not expect is Yuuji. 

“Oh. Hello, I didn’t think you were in the same hotel this week.” 

“I think I’m still slightly high on painkillers and they’ve told me I can drive again this week but like I think I might not want to, anymore?” Yuuji blurts out, all in one breath, before Gojo can even think about opening the door to let him in, and then he brings his arms up to his shoulders, hugging himself through the red hoodie he’s swimming in. 

“Oh-kay.” Gojo says, “do you want something to eat? We can get room service. The burgers here are really good, we stayed here a couple years ago.” 

Yuuji bites the inside of his cheek. “My meal plan-” 

“Yeah, fuck your meal plan. Cheat day, whatever, I’ll come to the hotel gym with you later and we can do extra cardio if you want, but I think you just need to relax a bit, yeah?” 

Yuuji nods, shuffling into the room. He’s shorter than Gojo by a fair bit, but in here, he looks even smaller as he stands, arms wrapped around himself. He stays quiet as Gojo orders room service - yeah, make one of the burgers plain, please - perched on the edge of a couch. 

It’s only Monday. They don’t have to be at the track, really, until Thursday. Sometimes they’ll go on Wednesday, but given it's a double header, most teams don’t make the drivers turn up until Thursday. Media day. 

Yuuji hasn’t spoken to the media at all about his results at Spa yet. That’s one of the small mercies of having a serious crash: when you go to the hospital, no team manager in their right mind is going to make you do pressers. 

But it’s a double edged sword (and Gojo would know) because the race week after, you have to bring it back to the forefront of your mind by talking about it repeatedly before you’re due to get back into the car, when all you want is to forget the whole thing and move forward. 

How’s the recovery? Was that crash your fault? Was there an error with the car? Blah, blah, blah. 

This is far from Yuuji’s first crash during a race weekend. He had three crashes out of races last season, and he’s had two massive shunts during practice and qualifying sessions this season. But it is the first time he’s not been well enough after a crash to do press. 

He’s had one full season in the sport to Gojo’s fourteen. The lack of experience is daunting to him, sometimes. How dead set on his goals Yuuji is, despite the lack of muscle memory or first driver position. 

“Megumi texted me after the crash,” Yuuji says, like he’s been trying to get the words out of his throat for the last five minutes but hasn’t managed it, “but I- he didn’t come and see me.” 

“Did anyone come and see you, apart from Nobara?” 

“Yeah, I mean. You offered. Getou came, he looks after me. Us.” 

Gojo, rather insanely, thinks for a moment that Yuuji means him, but he probably - definitely - means Yuuta. The other Keicho driver he’s responsible for. As his job requires. 

You of all people don’t get to tell me how to do my job. 

“He wasn’t at the afterparty or anything.” Gojo tries to soothe, and Yuuji tilts his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. 

“I think you’re gonna be the only one that understands this if I say it, but, like, it’s not about that. I came into the sport late and I wouldn’t be here without the Sengoku academy, and I wouldn’t be here without you recommending me for them, and you recommending me for the G1 seat, but, like. I can’t be here without him.” 

“Yuuji, you definitely can be-” 

“No, like. Yeah of course I can race. But he’s- come on, you have to get me. You have to get me.” 

“Maybe if you explain-” 

“Like, he’s racing. We’re nothing without racing. And racing isn’t anything without him, I- Gojo. You get it, right?” 

Gojo wishes he didn’t get it. But he does. 

“Is this about the crash?” 

“Well, the car just felt like it tripped and it folded in half through basically the highest speed corner on the entire calendar, and I pulled, like, fifty five Gs, but I don’t really care about that. If he’d crashed like that I’d be in the hospital with him. And he wasn’t.” 

Gojo wants to defend Megumi, but he can’t. Because racing is complicated, but God knows, even at the end, even when they were at each other’s throats and Getou had the single minded intensity of a predator on the hunt, they would’ve gone to each other. After moments like that. 

“I’m sorry, kid.” 

Yuuji shrugs. “I only have two years at Keicho. I could just let the contract lapse.” 

“That’s at the end of twenty four,” Gojo hums, “you won’t feel like this in two years, Yuuji.” 

He shrugs. “I dunno how to get things to change.” 

“Time,” Gojo says, soft. When Yuuji stretches, he can see bruises all along the sides of his ribs, nasty and dark and still half-formed. 

“I don’t wanna wait seven years.” 

“Then don’t.” 

Because it’s that simple, really. 

The burgers arrive, and Yuuji takes the plain one, and chomps into it with vigour. So clearly Gojo did something right. He hopes. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Thursday Press Conference Group One, Dutch Grand Prix 2022 - Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Mai Zenin (Meiji), Yuuji Itadori (Scuderia Keicho) and Mei Mei (Haein) - conducted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome back everyone! Mei Mei, I’ll start with you: how are Haein expecting to handle this track?

MEI MEI: Well, Zandvoort is very, very high downforce, which our car is good at, we have a different rear wing this weekend. But so does every team, and JTR are really good at the high downforce this season. So, definitely finishing with both cars inside the points will be a bonus. 

Q: A good weekend for you in particular last week. An eighth place finish. 

MM: Yes and no. I mean, the car is definitely capable of more than that, but Spa was always going to be a tough circuit for us, we knew that going in. Hopefully we can maximise the result a bit better here. 

Q: Thank you Mei Mei, coming to you now Gojo, a bit of a weird race last week? 

SATORU GOJO: These things happen. I think even if my MGU-K - the ERS - hadn’t failed, I think Nanami had the edge on me out of the restart, so I likely wouldn’t have been on that top step. He out drove the car he’s in last week and he really deserved it. Obviously to lose a podium isn’t great, but oh well. 

Q: The replacement of that unit means you’ll take an engine penalty this week. How is the team going to navigate that?

SG: Qualify as high up as possible and hope for the best. It’s only five places, the team has done a great job minimising it, and we really didn’t want to take the penalty here: overtaking is tough, but it is what it is, and we’ll push through. 

Q: Okay, to you, then, Yuuji. Tough week last week, how are you feeling?

YUUJI ITADORI: Ah, good. I didn’t break anything, and it hurt, but not as much as everyone was expecting, I think. Y’know, at least physically. [laughs] But yeah, I apologised to the team, we’re hoping to do well here to make up for it. 

Q: On the team, then, how are you expecting to perform here? 

YI: Hopefully well! I’m not the biggest fan of racing here, the banking is a bit nuts, but it’s an old school style of racing and hopefully we can capitalise on Gojo’s grid penalty for our fight in the constructors and in the driver’s. 

Q: Last but not least, Mai! You scored points last week, finishing sixth! How was that?

MAI ZENIN: It felt good. I think if I had one more lap, I could’ve caught Gojo, too, which would’ve been a bonus, but yeah. A good week. 

Q: How is the team expecting to perform here, when the two- top three, if we include Sengoku - teams are expecting to be so strong?

MZ: We go in with a positive mindset, we will try to be the strongest we can here. We, like a lot of the teams, most of them, I mean, have a different rear wing and we’ve got a couple of different parts, so we’ll see how everything plays out. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Modern Motorsport) : Yuuji, you crashed out of the lead of a race last week, something that, on an individual level, you can’t afford to do. Is your inconsistency linked to the pressure being put on you this season, and how will you make up for the points you’ve lost?

YI: Uh, Spa was the only driver error I’ve made this season in a race. We had substantial upgrades to the car following summer break, and the car felt slightly foreign to me. With how hard I was having to push to account for the two-stop strategy, and the pressure from Gojo behind, I was struggling. I think everyone knows what my mistake is, we’ve debriefed as a team about it and that’s all that matters. I want this just as badly as anyone else here, and I think that I can still do it. 

Q: The gap to Gojo in terms of Okkotsu’s fight is now quite a bit smaller than his gap to you. Will the team prioritise Yuuta, now?

YI: Of course, to some extent, and I am not asking them not to. But I will keep fighting right until the end, as will Yuuta and Gojo. I don’t think that’s unfair to say. 

 

—

 

“Walk with me,” Yaga says, as the two of them head into the Jujutsu motorhome after the bulk of the media is dealt with. Gojo has an interview later, in the evening, but it’s more of an informal thing. 

“So.” Yaga says, exhaling through his nose, “I need to know if you plan on renewing your contract,” 

Gojo knew this was coming. Realistically, he should have made a decision by now, anyway, but there are only about three or four drivers on the grid with contracts ending this year, and all of them are expecting to renew, minus maybe Nobara, if Haibara’s gossip is anything to go by. 

He takes a deep breath, pressing his lips together. He thinks about his sixty point lead in the championship, thinks about Getou’s hands on the soft skin of his stomach. Thinks about hiding behind his bravado for five more years.Thinks about sneaking around hotel rooms and Shoko’s anger, misdirected. 

“I don’t think so.” 

Yaga nods like he was expecting it. A lot of people have been expecting it, recently.  “If that changes, the door is open for you to renew, you know that.” 

“Until you sign a younger driver, I take it?” 

“We won’t sign anyone until the end of the season.” 

Unwavering faith, an open door. Something Yaga has extended to him for as long as he’s known him, something that has made Gojo into the driver he is today. Into the person he is today. 

“Just- I haven’t spoken to Shoko about it. So, could you-” 

“Of course. I’ll keep it quiet.” 

 

—

 

May 2012, Monaco

 

Suguru has been developing a list of the worst possible foods to eat, recently. At the top of the list? Chicken. Why chicken? It’s rubbery, it always tastes the same, and he can’t fry it or make it taste nice without inadvertently adding a bunch of calories that he can’t have. 

He stares across at Satoru, who is wolfing down his own meal - a bowl of salmon and a weird salad that Suguru thinks he’d throw up if he tried to eat. The leaves go slimy, and he just can’t bring himself to swallow. He gets stuck in an endless loop of chewing, and not even counting to five to swallow works. 

He chomps down on his chicken, watching Satoru frown at something on his phone, and counts to five before swallowing and opening his mouth to speak. 

“What’s got you looking at your phone like that?” 

Satoru’s upper lip curls. “A kid in karting got into an accident at some event in the UK,” he winces, “it sounds bad,” 

“Bad, like? Injured? Paralysed?” 

“Dead. Not like, yet, but she’s in a coma. Serious brain damage.” 

“Oh.” Suguru winces, carefully biting around another piece of chicken. One, two, three, four, five- “how long has it been since we had an accident like that?” 

“In karting? A long time,” Satoru huffs, “if they ask us about it in the press I am not gonna know what to say. How the hell is a karting incident related to us?” 

Chewing on another bite, Suguru tries to think of what to say to that. Karting is so far removed from what they do now, but it’s where everyone starts. All the kids in karting are there because they look up to them . 

Satoru isn’t eating anymore, instead scrolling through his phone biting his thumbnail. “Shit, she was only eleven.” 

Suguru sucks air in through his teeth, sympathetic, then watches as he starts picking at the scabs on his knuckles. “Okay, Satoru, stop. It’s not our fault, okay? If the press plan to ask about it, Yaga’ll tell us, give us a strategy. Come on, we’ve got qualifying in half an hour,” 

Satoru puts his phone down, and swallows his salmon bowl in about two mouthfuls.

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Qualifying Press Conference, top three qualifiers, Monaco Grand Prix 2012 - Hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

(Editor’s note: Satoru Gojo and Suguru Getou have the same initials, so will be referred to in transcript by their surnames.)

 

Q: A warm welcome and congrats to our top three qualifiers! In third, Suguru Getou, in second, Satoru Gojo, and on pole, Yuki Tsukumo! Yuki, that was a brilliant lap, how are you feeling?

YUKI TSUKUMO: Yeah, great. It feels good to edge these two out, they’re just getting better and better with each race. 

Q: Coming into this Grand Prix, you lead Satoru Gojo by two points in the standings - are you optimistic you can keep it that way? 

YT: Yes. This is one of my better tracks, and I love racing here. The car is fast and I am definitely confident on being able to convert this pole into a win tomorrow. 

Q: Okay, Gojo, coming to you, this is your best ever start here, and you’re on the front row! Talk us through that lap, it was phenomenal. 

SATORU GOJO: It just felt really good. The car was really nice and agile, and I just felt like I could push for the fastest possible time. I’m starting to feel really really secure now too so. Yeah. All around a good lap.

Q: You start alongside your championship rival tomorrow - are you going to try and get past her for that crucial win?

GOJO: I mean, yeah. That’s the plan. That’s what racing is. Overtaking manoeuvres are so difficult in Monaco, but I think I can pull it off. 

Q: And last but not least, Getou. This is one of your strongest qualifying sessions of the season so far, just talk us through it. 

SUGURU GETOU: I think my answer is much the same as Satoru’s. We both definitely feel more secure in the car, I’ve lost a bit more weight, too, which helps the lap times. [laughs] 

Q: There was a lot of chatter at the beginning of the season about your accident in Japan last year and how it’s affected you and your driving for the worse. This is your first top three start since switching to Jujutsu Tech, whilst your teammate has scooped up two wins and hasn’t been off the podium yet. Is this a sign that your former levels of performance are returning?

GETOU: [laughs] Uh, I’d like to hope so. I also had to drop some weight and get used to a completely new car- it drives differently to the Keicho - but I am finding my feet a bit now and hopefully I will be moving onwards and upwards.

GOJO: Sorry, can I answer, too? Um, obviously Suguru’s performance is lower than his seasons at Keicho, but we have performance clauses in place on our contracts - he’s meeting all of them. There’s no reason to like, prod at him when he’s coming back from a serious injury. It’s stupid. 

 

—

 

When Suguru finally gets in the car after being chased by celebrities and team personnel for the last two hours, he can finally breathe. He slots his helmet over his head and rolls his shoulders back. Just him and the car, just him and the car, just him and the car-

“Hey!” Satoru leans across into the cockpit, flipping up his visor and pulling his sunglasses halfway down with his other hand, so Suguru can see his eyes. Which really isn’t helping to slow his heartbeat. 

“What?” 

Satoru leans even further into his space, which shouldn’t be possible. “We’re both gonna be on that podium today, I know it, us, together, yeah?” 

Suguru nods. Satoru grins, bright and wide, and then steps back out of the cockpit and pushes his glasses back up his nose. 

Suguru flips his visor back down. Focus. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - MONACO GP 2012 

 

LAP 1: 

 

TSUKUMO: Oh, ****. 

URUAME: Copy. Stay close. 

 

GOJO: YES! YES! COME ON! 

YAGA: Head down kid, but you are P1! P1! 

GOJO: Oh my god, oh my god. Okay-

 

TAMOMO: To confirm, you are P3, car ahead is Tsukumo, 1.2. 

GETOU: Satoru’s leading?

TAMOMO: Gojo is P1, yes. If we can get past Tsukumo, it will help him hold that position. 

 

LAP 5: 

 

TSUKUMO: My brakes feel off, the balance is weird. 

URUAME: We’re checking. 

TSUKUMO: I can manage but this is difficult, I’m losing time. 

 

LAP 20: 

 

GOJO: Tyres are going, I dunno how much longer I can stay out and defend. 

YAGA: Copy, just a few more laps. 

GOJO: How many? Because I’m struggling. 

 

URUAME: Gojo is struggling on the tyres, you can get him. 

TSUKUMO: Copy, what’s the gap? 

URUAME: Point-nine. 

 

LAP 22: 

 

GOJO: What’s the gap behind? 

YAGA: Point-five. 

GOJO: Come on, we need to pit, I’m so vulnerable out here. 

 

TSUKUMO: Gap?

URUAME: Point-four. 

 

LAP 23: 

 

YAGA: Gojo, are you okay?

GOJO: ****, no! Oh my god, what the hell was she thinking?! 

YAGA: We believe she had braking issues. 

GOJO: A ****ing skill issue is what it is, what the ****! I can’t get out, I’m like, hanging here. 

YAGA: Copy, they’re on their way. 

 

TSUKUMO: Brakes are gone! Like, completely, they’re not working! 

URUAME: Copy, pull up the car, pull up the car. 

TSUKUMO: ****, is Gojo okay? It looked like I flipped him on my way into the tunnel. 

URUAME: He’s okay, just annoyed at you, I think. [laughs]

TSUKUMO: Fair, I’d be annoyed in his situation too. Jesus, okay, car is off. 

 

GETOU: ****, was that Satoru?

TAMOMO: Yes, but he’s okay. Red flags, keep your delta positive as you slow down. 

GETOU: Copy. 

 

—

 

It’s a rolling restart. He starts in first. He’s one of the few cars that hadn’t pitted yet, giving him a significant advantage over the cars that had, because he gets to change his tyres under the red flags anyway, meaning he won’t pit for the rest of the race. Utahime, too, has benefitted from this, and, surprisingly, Amanai, who is in an abnormally high position in third. 

Satoru leans over his car as the personnel all peel away for the formation lap: a rolling start under a safety car. “You’ve got this,” he says, “you’re a better driver than everyone else out on that track, and you’re definitely better than Utahime.” 

Getou agrees on that, at least, but it’s not that simple. “She has a better car,” 

“Only so far that can take you, you know that. If you had that car, you’d be leading the championship. She’s in third.” 

They grab at each other’s hands: a final parting gesture before the red lights go out again. 

Satoru’s right. He’s untouchable out there, when it comes down to it. 

“Getou, that is P1! Your first win in Jujutsu Tech!” Tamomo’s voice comes through his earpieces, and Suguru just holds down the microphone button and screams, because he’s dizzy and he’s barely eaten all weekend and his arms feel like they might give out any second, but he won in Monaco. He won in Monaco. For the second time, but it feels like the first, because-

“SUGURU, OH MY GOD! SUGURU, YOU’RE A RACE WINNER WITH US!” Satoru’s voice is clear, cutting through like ocean waves, even when he’s screaming nonsensically into the microphone, “holy shit! You’re incredible, I told you-” 

“I’m pushing you in the pool.” Suguru says back, laughing deliriously, “I’m fucking drowning you, and I’ll get away with it, ‘cause we just won Monaco!” 

He climbs out of his car in front of the number one board, legs shaking. He hopes the cameras don’t catch it. In the sun, he stretches his arms wide, tipping his head toward the sky, and counts. One. Did you see that, dad? Two. Did you see that, mom? Three. Were you watching me on the TV? Four. Did you see that, all you journalists doubting me? Five. He turns his head towards the barriers, where his team is standing, shouting wordless encouragement, hopped up on the adrenaline just as much as he is. He sees Satoru, changed into a team T-shirt, hair fluffy underneath a cap. He sees Shoko, sweaty and smiling and flushed. 

He jumps down, runs across the concrete, and jumps into the barriers. 

It doesn’t matter, you guys saw me. You saw me, you’ve done everything for me, and now we’re winning together. 

 

—

 

As he pulls his helmet off to get weighed in the cooldown room, he feels a hand at his shoulder: Utahime. “After all the shit they’ve been saying about you,” she says, low enough that the microphones can’t pick them up, in Japanese, too, “you deserve this. Seriously. You drove well out there today,” 

“Thanks.” He won’t cry, he won’t. Utahime smiles at him. 

“You’re fucking insufferable.” 

Suguru nods, watery, and lets his forehead fall to her shoulder. 

It’s embarrassing, feeling like a race win is a world championship, but it’s been a long six months. 

“Can I join?” 

Suguru lifts his head to see Riko smiling shyly at them, helmet tucked under her arm. 

“I thought Toji finished third.” 

“He got a penalty,” she beams. A podium, in her rookie season, in a car that has no business being anywhere near it. 

Such is the magic of Monaco.

 

—

 

September 2022, the Netherlands

 

Gojo thinks about it all the way through the two free practice sessions. Shoko is scarily normal about the whole Getou thing, and their kind-of fight. Gojo thinks he should probably bring it up. He wants to bring it up. He wants to know why she was so angry at the whole thing. 

“D’you wanna get dinner together after the race?” He asks, leaning on her shoulder in the garage as they look at the data in between free practice one and two. He has to lean down so far to do it, shoulders hunched. He knows there are cameras following them, knows there’ll be speculation. There’s always speculation with him and Shoko. But if it keeps eyes off her sharing hotel rooms with Utahime, then it’s fine. Both of them can deal with it. 

Shoko hums, “okay,” 

“To talk,” he clarifies, twisting his head so those lip-reading freaks can’t translate it for gossip pages later. Just because he doesn’t keep up with them doesn’t mean he isn’t aware of their existence. 

She sighs in response, and her brows crease together. “Y’know, I’m not mad at you,” 

“I know.”

He does know. He knew even in the room with the two of them that her anger wasn’t directed at him. He also knew that she wasn’t even that angry at Getou, really. 

When she doesn’t reply, he hums, “I still want to talk to you anyway,” 

Shoko laughs, “you’re such a weirdo,” 

“Yeah, and you love me anyway,” 

“I do, strangely enough. Knowing someone for twenty years will do that to you,” 

“It’s more like twenty-five,” Gojo grins, and Shoko grimaces, clicking onto a different page of data.  

“Don’t make me feel old,” 

He just pinches her cheek and laughs again. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou (Team Principal, Scuderia Keicho) - FP2 - Dutch Grand Prix 2022

 

Q: Welcome Getou, thank you for agreeing to do this interview for us. 

SUGURU GETOU: No problem, it’s nice to sit down for a bit! [laughs]

Q: So, after the two Friday sessions, Yuuji is in second behind Gojo and Yuuta is in fourth, behind Megumi. It’s looking like it’ll be a fight between you and JTR again for those podium positions. Are you thinking it’ll be tough?

SG: It always is, against JTR. They have a faster car on average this season, so it’s been tough all the way through, but we’ve come away with wins and podiums anyway. This isn’t any different.

Q: Do you think you can capitalise on Gojo’s engine penalty this weekend? 

SG: Of course. Keeping him behind is much easier than trying to keep up with him in clean air. I think both drivers have a big opportunity to close the points gap this weekend. 

Q: Are you worried about Itadori’s inconsistency after the crash last weekend? Does he have it in him to perform under pressure?

SG: He wouldn’t be driving under us if he wasn’t capable of that. I think the media and us, as the teams, often forget how inexperienced the kid is. He’s on his second full season in the sport, and he’s won multiple races, and he’s still in a championship fight. I think we don’t give him enough credit, and I think that this is only a minor blip. Drivers make mistakes. Yuuji knows what’s expected of him moving forward. 

Q: Will Yuuta be prioritised in the championship fight? 

SG: Yes, to some extent. We unfortunately have to be tactical when going up against someone like Gojo. He’s incredibly consistent and will likely be a tough opponent to beat, but I equally think both drivers still have a shot. 

 

—

 

July 2012, England

 

It’s raining. Suguru is in England, and it’s fucking raining. 

Satoru is grumbling about it too, when they drive to the track on Saturday and the raindrops are still pattering on the windows. 

“Quali’s gonna be shit,” he mumbles, still wearing his sunglasses even in the clouds, leaning with his chin in his palm. “And the rain’s supposed to be worse tomorrow.” 

It is. Suguru’s spent hours with engineers and strategists looking at the forecasts, but they won’t know until they’re in it. 

“The track might be dry enough to go out in softs,” Suguru winces. It’s a close thing, though, and it’ll be different through the different sectors, which is probably the worst possible way to have to drive in qualifying. Even though they can both manage, it’s just not fun to feel out of control through the corners. 

Satoru squints at the raindrops on the window. “Did you ever do the thing where you watched raindrops on the windows as a kid?” 

Suguru looks at where he thought Satoru had been staring out the window. His eyes are laser-focused on the glass. Turns out reading someone’s gaze through sunglasses is pretty tough. “Yeah, the thing where you pick one and hope it wins the race to the other side?” 

Satoru grins. “It’s a good thing our cars don’t have windshields out on track. We’d both get distracted.” 

“When we race endurance we can afford to be distracted,” Suguru scoffs, “it’s not the same as open wheel,” 

The laugh Satoru lets out is bright, but he’s still staring at the window. Then he groans. “That’s like, the third time my raindrop has merged with the one it’s supposed to be racing, are you kidding?” 

“You’re picking the wrong raindrops,” Suguru laughs, “you’re just bad at it.” 

Satoru’s eyes refocus on a raindrop in the top corner of the window. “I’ve never been bad at anything, look.” 

They both watch as the raindrop trickles down, down, down-

And merges into one big blob midway through its descent. 

 

—

 

The rain is heavier than they thought it would be. It pours, and everyone is aquaplaning all over the place, struggling to stay in control, and Suguru is no exception. He doesn’t mind racing in the wet, necessarily, but pushing to the limit in the rain is a slightly different story. 

He sees the spray behind him in his wing mirrors as he takes Copse, foot on the throttle, holding his breath and hoping that the wheels obey him. He knows where to find grip, he can feel the grip through his fingertips and the vibration of the engine. It doesn’t mean that it feels good, out here, driving through puddles and trying not to hit gravel. 

He makes Q3 by the skin of his teeth after sliding through his final lap of the session and gritting his teeth through the entire thing. 

In his peripherals, he sees Satoru getting out of the car, and it’s then that he realises that he hasn’t made Q3 at all. “What happened to Satoru?” 

“Spun out,” Tamomo replies over the radio, “Focus. Tsukumo’s still in, and so is Utahime and Fushiguro. We have a fight ahead of us this session,” 

“Copy,” Suguru mumbles, rather preoccupied with the idea that he’s about to out qualify Satoru by a substantial amount of positions. He’s preoccupied with the way that the media is about to crucify Satoru, because he’s crumbled under the pressure of a championship fight. Even though he hasn’t. Even though they’re separated by less than ten points. Even though Satoru came third in Canada, and then won Valencia. Even though he’s not really crumbling under pressure at all, all smiles and set jaws and waves in front of the cameras. 

When he lifted the trophy in Valencia, he looked radiant. Glowing in the summer sun. White hair glinting. Every bit a future champion, every bit unharnessed potential. A wildcard. 

But now he’s out before Q3, and the pressure’s on Suguru to keep their hopes of a podium at Silverstone alive. Something that’s never really been on him before. At least, not in this team. Satoru hasn’t qualified badly yet. 

But every run of consistency must end. 

“Okay, we’re still on the wets, let’s go out, track conditions are only getting worse,” 

“Okay, copy.” 

He banishes all thoughts from his brain, presses his foot to the throttle, turns the wheel, and the world around him narrows down in turn. 

 

—

 

Transcript for interview with Toji Fushiguro (Sengoku Racing) - Post Qualifying British Grand Prix 2012

 

Q: So, Toji, fifth place for you today in qualifying. Congratulations. 

TOJI FUSHIGURO: Thank you. 

Q: Of course, the conditions were really difficult out there today, and could continue to be difficult tomorrow. How did you find it out there today? 

TF: Uh, not too bad. Rain can be tricky but I like the challenge. I prefer a wet qualifying session to a wet race, but it seems we don’t have a choice this weekend. 

Q: Tell us about that incident in Q2. You’re being investigated by the stewards for impeding Gojo. 

TF: Honestly, I don’t think it was anything major. I didn’t see him coming behind me, and he slipped in the rain, which was his own fault. I think that a lot of people seem to think that this kid can’t do any wrong, but he just slipped up under the pressure today. 

Q: So you don’t think you’ll get a penalty for the incident today? 

TF: No. I don’t think I will. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Interview with Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Technical Racing) - Post Qualifying British Grand Prix 2012

 

Q: Gojo. A shame to see you back here so early. Fourteenth out there today. 

SATORU GOJO: Yeah. Not the best. 

Q: So, what happened out there? Fushiguro under investigation for impeding you, is that anything to do with why you’re so low on the grid?

SG: Yeah. Of course, he basically brake checked me into woodcote, he was going so slow ahead of me, and it’s just completely unacceptable. It ****ed up my line through that corner and I lost the grip I was finding out there, causing the spin. 

Q: So not just a mistake from you that caused the error out there today? Not the rain or the conditions?

SG: I’m good in the rain. I don’t think that out there, today, was my fault. 

Q: Regardless, a brilliant performance from your teammate. He takes pole today, putting him alongside Tsukumo for the Grand Prix tomorrow. 

 

—

 

September 2022, the Netherlands 

 

The pressure when you know you have an engine penalty going into qualifying is kind of unique. Pole won’t mean pole, but it will mean a sixth place start instead of a tenth place start. And every position here, in Zandvoort, is valuable. Overtaking is a luxury. 

 “So, pole?” 

“We can try and get Megumi to give you a tow,” Shoko says, blinking slowly, “that should give you an edge over the Keichos.”

“Sure, but I don’t want him to sacrifice his time.” 

Shoko frowns at him, “I think we need to be smart here. If Yuuta gets the full twenty six points and you finish low, the gap shrinks a lot. And that’s- not really a position we want to be in.” 

“I’m not doing-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shoko shrugs her shoulders, “I know you don’t want to be a number one driver, or compromise someone else’s results, or whatever, but this is a team game. Megumi knew what he was signing up for, and so did Nanami,”

Did they? Did Getou know? 

Gojo chews the inside of his cheek. Hums. He knows Megumi was expecting to be a second driver. Knows he has less experience. But– still. He doesn’t like team orders. 

“It wasn’t my idea.” He says, finally, fiddling with the zip at the top of his suit. All these years later, and he still feels his stomach twist at the idea of forcing a teammate’s hand. 

“Sure,” Shoko says, raising her eyebrows like he’s being ridiculous. He probably is. But Getou hasn’t even invoked team orders at Keicho yet, and there were definitely times where he should have, this season. Maybe he’s reading too much into it. 

He gets in the car. Megumi gives him a tow in qualifying, without complaint or hesitation. Gojo almost wishes there was some, just for old times’ sake.

He qualifies second anyway. 

 

—

 

ITADORI QUALIFIES ON POLE: DUTCH GP 2022 QUALIFYING ROUNDUP / G1 News

Written by Andy Becker, 3rd September 2022

 

Yuuji Itadori was on flying form for Keicho today, securing pole position for the Scuderia by less than a tenth of a second over Satoru Gojo, who, due to a grid place penalty, will start seventh on the grid tomorrow. Megumi Fushiguro qualified third, but will start second, followed by Yuuta Okkotsu and Nanami Kento rounding out the top five…(READ MORE)

 

—

 

July 2012, England

 

The race starts in the wet. It’s not nearly the deluge that was predicted, but the spray helps Suguru build a gap in front and hold the lead. It’ll be his second win this season, he’s sure of it. 

The rain clears, making way for brilliant sunshine, making way for dry tyres, making way for more speed, and Suguru revels in it. Revels in the way he can really push now, feeling the wind light on his skin. 

“Getou, we need to swap the cars,” his engineer’s voice comes, crackly over the headphones. 

“What?” He replies. “Where’s Satoru?” 

“He is two-point-three behind,” Tamomo says, “but Tsukumo is catching him, we need to get him into clean air,” 

He’s leading. He’s leading a Grand Prix, and they’re asking him to give it up. “What the hell?” He says, into the mic, “then I’ll be vulnerable to Yuki, too,” 

“This is a team order, Getou. We need to swap the cars,” 

And Satoru needs every point he can get against Yuki. “Okay,” 

Satoru overtakes him two corners later, and Suguru sees it: the flash of red, behind him. Three laps to go. 

He has more pace. He can fight her. He gave up a win, but he’s not losing a place to Yuki. No fucking way. 

 

—

 

Satoru comes to him, first. He doesn’t go to the team. He comes straight to Suguru’s car, pulling him out in front of the number two board, grasping at his hands. He flips his visor up, “thank you,” 

Suguru nods, “it’s okay, you need the points.” 

“You kept Yuki behind?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Thanks, Suguru.” 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Race interview, British Grand Prix 2012, Top Three Finishers - hosted by Atsuya Kusakabe

(Note: Suguru Getou and Satoru Gojo have the same initials, and will therefore be referred to by surname)

 

Q: Hello and welcome to our top three finishers from the 2012 British Grand Prix, in third, Yuki Tsukumo, in second, Suguru Getou, and in first, Satoru Gojo! Gojo, a win from fourteenth on the grid today, one of your best drives so far, how did you do it? 

SATORU GOJO: Uh, I think I just wanted revenge really, after yesterday. I was really angry about it, and then Yaga [Gojo’s race engineer] was like, okay, well, you can be sour but you still have to drive, and I just got my head down. I like driving in the wet, and starting in the wet was definitely a big help today, I just picked people off, by the time the track dried, I was in third, and that was a pretty good position to fight for the lead. 

Q: You overtook Getou very late in the race, and it was under a team order. Do you think you could have caught him without that team order?

GOJO: I mean, it’s hard to say. I think yes, but he had a lot of pace in hand and really would have made it hard for me, hence the team order. 

Q: Moving onto you, Getou, a great race out there today, you held a very commanding lead for the majority of it.

SUGURU GETOU: Yeah, the rain helped me pull away in the early stages. I was losing pace towards the end, trying to preserve the tyres and the engine, being conservative, really. Then to try and keep Yuki behind, I put on the pace a bit more towards the end. 

Q: That team order, then. Were you expecting it?

GETOU: No, but it’s necessary to try and build a championship lead. I’m behind in the standings, due to a slow start coming back from my crash last year, and I understand the team’s rationale behind swapping the cars. 

Q: With this third place, you’re now only three points off third place in the overall standings, and your old form seems to be returning, bit by bit. How does that feel?

GETOU: Uh, good. I think it’s good to be able to show my doubters that I’m still the same driver as I was, and that I am capable of fighting for wins and podiums. If this is my worst season, and I’m still within touching distance of third, it says a lot about my abilities as a driver. 

Q: Okay, and finally, Yuki, coming to you…

 

—

 

September 2022, the Netherlands

 

“Hey,” 

Walking through the starting line to get in his car, Gojo turns, to see Getou waving at him, a smile on his face. They don’t get to see each other much at race weekends, and Gojo never really expected that to change, but it’s still nice. To be met with a smile instead of thinly veiled hostility. To be able to lean into it, instead of reacting to protect himself and his own soft insides. 

“Hi,” he murmurs back, bumping shoulders with him as they walk. 

“Try not to pull any stupid overtakes today, huh? I’d like a Keicho one-two,” Getou grins, eyes glinting in the sun, “I need you to stay as far back as possible.” 

“In your dreams,” Gojo laughs, “should I hand your drivers a championship on a silver platter, next?” 

“Well, that would be ideal.” Looking around, Getou lifts his hand and places it, solid, at the back of Gojo’s neck, squeezing. His fingers come up to the space below the shell of his ear, and to anyone else, it could be a friendly gesture. It’s fleeting enough to be, barely lasting a second with the frantic buzz of the startline dissolving around them. 

Gojo glares at him. “What are you doing.” He tries to come across as threatening, but in reality, he probably sounds like a child, petulant. 

Getou just grins at him, easy, relaxed. If Gojo squints past the tint of his sunglasses, he can see the slight blush on his cheeks and he knows he’s won. 

“Good luck, Satoru.” 

 

—

 

October 2012, Japan

 

Racing at Japan again is-

Suguru expects it to be easy. He expects to get there and be spurred on by his home fans, he expects to be able to push through. 

When he’s there, signing autographs at the front gates, he ends up almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Fushiguro, who looks pissed off at the concept of even racing there at all, and he-

It feels like-

His breath-

He gets a hold of himself. This is his job, and he’s paid to race, and he wants to race. He wants to go out there and win for his home crowd, who paid to be here for him. Satoru won in Monza, for his home crowd, and the atmosphere was pure insanity, boiling in their blood as they lifted their trophies on the podium together, with Yuki in Italian red beside them, megawatt smile beaming in the sun. 

The first two free practices are shit. Predictably, considering the only food Suguru seems to be able to keep down is smoothies, and even those are touch and go. He feels dizzy through the corners, feels like his throat is closing in on him, feels like this is going to be it. He remembers the panic, letting go of the steering wheel, the crunch of his shoulder as it snapped anyway. 

“You’re hesitant through this corner,” Tamomo says, looking at the data in the debrief, “too early on the brakes, here, you can see Gojo’s braking point, and it’s much later-” 

Suguru puts his head in his hands, ignoring the sympathetic looks from his engineers and the look of pity from Shoko. 

The third free practice is better, but not by much. But then Satoru sits in the strategy meeting, leg thrown over his knee, completely casual, and shrugs, “I wanna give Suguru a tow in quali,” 

Immediately, Yaga and Tamomo look at each other, concerned. Gankuganji hums. “Why?” 

“Home race. He gave me one in Monza.” 

Suguru was annoyed about that, being sacrificed for a leg-up on Yuki. It feels like that’s all he does every weekend, now. It’ll be different next year, everyone says, when the car is faster and they’re not trying to secure the drivers’ championship by a hair’s breadth. 

He’d said to Satoru that he was slightly frustrated with it, and he just replied it’s okay, I’ll return the favour. Suguru hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it wasn’t the point. It wasn’t one thing. It was a steady boiling under the surface. 

“That’s probably not the best idea,” Yaga says, like he’s trying to comfort a scared rabbit, something that will run off any second. Satoru probably would just desert them if things didn’t go his way. 

“Why not? We’re fast this weekend, we can afford to do it.”

“Well-” Yaga starts, and Suguru can already tell exactly what’s going to come out of his mouth: a range of half-assed platitudes trying to be nice about Suguru’s shit performance this weekend, because they’re treading on eggshells around him. All because of a crash. Crashing is part of the job and he should be able to deal with it. 

“Because I’m ages off the pace this weekend,” he says, “and you have the pace for pole, so it doesn’t make sense to give me an advantage,” 

“But you were fourth in FP3 and I owe you-” Satoru starts, eyebrows creased, and Suguru feels so ill, and he doesn’t have time or energy to make everyone else here feel better. He doesn’t need to be coddled.

“I don’t want favours from you,” Suguru spits out, probably a touch too harsh. “I can race well by myself,” 

Satoru goes quiet, scowls, and doesn’t suggest it again. 

 

—

 

When he looks up at Satoru on the top step of the podium on Sunday, with Yuki and Utahime, the Japanese national anthem that they play for JTR’s win feels hollow. 

 

—

 

JAPAN 2012 ROUNDUP: GOJO DOMINATES JUJUTSU’S HOME GP, CHAMPIONSHIP LEAD DRIFTS FURTHER FROM TSUKUMO / G1 News

Written by Richard Newby, October 7th 2012

 

Satoru Gojo stormed home to win the Japanese Grand Prix, besting both Keicho drivers for the win, where they bring home a double podium. His teammate experienced a slump in form and settled for fourth place. 

Regardless of this slump in form, JTR holds onto the constructors lead, and he holds onto third place in the drivers’ standings after a rough start to the season plagued by injury recovery… (READ MORE)

 

G1 Drivers’ Standings after R15: 

1st GOJO / JTR / 291 pts

2nd TSUKUMO / SK / 279 pts

3rd GETOU / JTR / 221 pts

4th UTAHIME / SK / 213 pts.. (Click here to expand)

 

G1 Constructors’ Standings after R15: 

1st Jujutsu Technical Racing / 515 pts

2nd Scuderia Keicho / 492 pts… (Click here to expand)

 

—

 

September 2022, the Netherlands

 

The race itself is boring, an endless struggle through the pack. Satoru manages to pull himself into fourth, from seventh, which Yaga says is good damage control, given that Zandvoort isn’t great for overtaking in the first place. 

When he clambers out the car to get weighed, the first thing he asks is, “who won?” 

The attendant smiles, “oh, Itadori, I think,” 

Gojo nods, goes to press, bumps shoulders with Inumaki, with Nobara, circling round the pen. He says what he’s meant to: this was damage control, this is a difficult track, blah blah blah. Congrats to Yuuji, he raced well. Someone asks him if he’s glad Yuuta was only third, and he frowns because that’s such an awkward thing to answer. 

He goes to find Shoko immediately after. Some things are more important than racing. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FIFTEEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	274
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	228
3	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	207
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	198
5	Nanami KENTO (-1)	Sengoku	187
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	152
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	91
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	66
9	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	61
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	55

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND FIFTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	465
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	428
3	Sengoku (=)	330
4	Meiji (=)	139
5	Haein (=)	105
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	78

 

—

 

November 2012, Brazil

 

It’s still hot in November in Interlagos. Suguru should have maybe expected it: it’s Brazil, after all, but after travelling and feeling like he’s gone straight through a meat grinder for so long, it still feels like a surprise. In Europe, it’s winter. 

Satoru is vibrating out of his own skin. His knuckles are bleeding from how much he’s been picking at them, and his lips are bitten raw. He’s coming into the last race of the season in a worse position than last year, eleven points behind Yuki instead of three points ahead. Not only does Satoru need to beat Yuki, Yuki needs to be two places behind him, which she’s rarely been all season. 

Oh, and Satoru’s ill. He keeps sniffing, saying he’s fine, but he’s dosed up on paracetamol, tossed and turned all last night in their shared room, not sleeping properly. Any other race on the calendar, maybe any other season, and Satoru wouldn’t be racing at all, tucked into bed and left to sleep. 

But there’s a championship to win, and Satoru wants it. Hell, Suguru wants it for him, badly enough that he’s considered swapping their helmets and praying no one notices. It’s not that simple, of course, but he wishes it was. 

Satoru qualifies second, Yuki on pole, which isn’t the best start to the weekend. Satoru stops just shy of saying he’s already lost the championship before the race has even begun, instead breathing out through his nose in the debrief and setting his eyes on the engineers, saying they can bring it home. 

The pressure isn’t off Suguru, either: he qualifies in third, ahead of Utahime, and they’re still in with a chance of winning their first constructors’ championship as a team this weekend. It won’t be Suguru’s first - Keicho won it when he was a part of the team, both years, but it feels like something new. Something special. Something that he’s building. 

Satoru sits, legs crossed, eyes squinted closed, even in the low light, head resting against the back of the bed. It’s a sorry sight, really. Suguru goes to sit next to him. 

“You’re gonna get sick too,” Satoru mumbles, without opening his eyes, but his eyebrows crease slightly. 

“If I was gonna get sick, I would have already,” Suguru murmurs, soft, trying not to grate on his senses too much. He’s been so sensitive all week, wincing at the flashes of the cameras even through his sunglasses. 

Satoru cracks open his left eye, regarding Suguru with scepticism. “You’ll complain when you get sick later.” 

In the space between them, on the bed, their fingers brush. Satoru swallows. His cheeks are red. 

“I think I’m gonna lose,” Satoru says, quiet, “I can’t race Yuki like this. She’s too good,” 

“That’s not like you, to say that,” 

“I feel like shit,” Satoru huffs, “my head is pounding, my eyes hurt, I can’t breathe properly, and she starts ahead of me.” 

Suguru thinks about telling him that’s precisely why he can still win, because he’s coming from behind. He remembers, still, clear as day, being confronted with a baby Satoru, hair and eyes wild, sharp teeth on the line of his bottom lip, saying underdogs don’t win with brutal conviction. He decides against saying Satoru has the whole racing world rooting for him right now, because he’s the underdog. Because he’s the next big thing. “How bad do you want it?” 

“So bad,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” 

“Y’know, if you win, I’ll get that tattoo,” he grins. It’s mostly an empty promise, is the thing. Suguru’s not even sure if he remembers the conversations they had about it, back in the lower grades, drunk off victories and success and the incredible feeling of endless youth. 

“You wouldn’t,” Satoru smiles despite himself, “you’re too much of a pussy,” 

“I will!” Suguru laughs, “what would you make me get?” 

“My number,” he replies, like he’s thought about it already. “Somewhere no-one else would ever see it.” 

“Okay, deal,” 

“You really will?” 

“If you win the championship.” 

 

—

 

“I’m worried about him. He’s sick.” 

“He’ll be fine, he’s Gojo ,” 

 

—

 

Excerpt from Commentary of Brazilian Grand Prix 2012 - TRANSCRIPT

 

ATSUYA KUSAKABE: Satoru Gojo crosses the line in first place, and what an incredible drive it’s been for him out here, today, just sensational! It’s like he had six eyes out there, seeing his opponents moves before they could even pull them, but it won’t be enough when, twenty seconds behind, Tsukumo is currently still in third place, poised to take her fourth championship title, and her third in a row, but Getou is right on her tail, into turn four, and– OH MY GOD! GETOU MAKES IT STICK! HE’S UP INTO THIRD PLACE, and he’s just made a move that gives his teammate, his best friend, the championship, with just half a lap left to go, can he hold on?!... It’s right to the line, Yuki’s giving it a good go, she’s alongside- but- SUGURU GETOU HOLDS ON FOR THIRD PLACE, AND THE CHAMPIONSHIP TITLE, FOR THE FIRST TIME, GOES TO JUJUTSU TECH, AND IT GOES TO SATORU GOJO! 

 

GOJO RADIO: 

 

YAGA : So that is Utahime P2, we have to wait, we have to wait-

GOJO : Oh my god, I can’t see, I’m- holy ****-

YAGA : Getou P3, Yuki P4-

GOJO : WAIT-

YAGA : Satoru Gojo, you are the WORLD CHAMPION! 

GOJO : [incoherent screaming] YEEEEEESSS!! YES! Oh my god, when did Suguru get into P3?

YAGA : Last lap, turn four. 

GOJO : I could ****ing kiss him right now, OH MY GOD! WE’RE THE WORLD CHAMPIONS! 

 

 —

 

Suguru is shaking when he yanks himself out of the seatbelt. It’s a podium for him, to finish the season. It’s a podium in Brazil, and he couldn’t care less. His legs feel like they’re detached from his own body, as he jumps from the top of the car, to where Satoru is still standing, shaking, hands resting on the edge of the cockpit, helmet hiding his face. 

Suguru runs to him, and despite the screaming, despite the way sounds are muffled through their helmets, Satoru feels him coming, and turns, jumping into motion. He clambers from the cockpit, ankles catching on the metal, arms outstretched, and he almost falls. Suguru is there to catch him, hands tucked in his armpits, holding him up. 

“You have to get the tattoo now!” Satoru says, sounding faint despite shouting through their helmets. “You promised!” 

“Satoru, come on, stand up,” 

Satoru laughs, brilliant and hollow and disbelieving, “I can’t! My legs feel- I can’t feel my legs!” He reaches across, flipping up Suguru’s visor, “you’re incredible, Suguru, you- you’re-” 

Suguru realises with a jolt that he’s crying. Satoru’s crying. He might cry, too. 

“You’re crying!” 

Satoru punches him, weakly on the arm, as they move through the swarm of photographers, closer to their team at the barriers, and Suguru pushes Satoru forward into their open arms: to Yaga, to Shoko, and Satoru drags him with him, until he can’t tell where his own body begins and theirs end. Until he can’t tell who’s hands are on him, until he’s in front of Shoko, and she’s crying, “I knew I’d be friends with world champions,” and she’s congratulating him like it’s his, like the championship is his, even though it isn’t. 

Maybe it is his. Maybe racing begins and ends with Satoru, with the shared podiums, with the shared hotel rooms and them being teammates. Maybe it started with track walks. Maybe it ends with the outstretched hand, the who are you s spoken through helmets on tracks in Japan. 

Maybe it ends here, in the sunshine in Interlagos, watching Satoru above him struggling not to cry, Italian flag wrapped around his shoulders like a safety blanket. Suguru is holding the Japanese flag, for himself, for Jujutsu Tech. The whole time the anthems play, he can’t look away from him. Golden. Glowing. Dripping in champagne, in tears, in sweat and blood. 

What’s yours is mine, etcetera. Satoru turns to him, when they’re soaked through, eyelashes glinting in the sun, and says, hoarse, “you know the only thing I want right now that we don’t have to watch our weights anymore?” 

“What,” Suguru says back, barely above a whisper. Satoru reads his lips anyway. 

“Pizza, like, the pizza your dad used to get us in karts,” he laughs, “that’s so stupid, right? I just won a world championship and I just- I want pizza.” 

Suguru thinks back to it, huddled in circles in the motorhome, with Shoko, with Haibara, with Nanami. They’re not here on the podium with them. The world changes and dips and gets worse and better, and his dad isn’t here, either, but Satoru is. He’s the constant. His dad never got to see him race with his best friend. He’s dreamed of this, he’s dreamt it, it’s real. 

It’s real. He will never see his dad again. 

It’s real. The world is at their feet, watching them. 

It’s real. Satoru is a world champion. 

It’s not the realisation that hits him, there. That would be inaccurate. It would be a nice sentiment, to be able to say in some far-off tell-all interview: I realised I loved him on that podium, with the win, with the sun and the success . But that isn’t what happened. Not even close. Suguru has known he’s loved him for as long as he’s known him, through missing teeth and motorhome pizza and shared homes and dingy clubs and older men and driving fast cars in the rain. And he couldn’t explain that to anyone. He wouldn’t want to. He’d want to keep that for himself, hold it close. 

No, the realisation that hits him here is that he can’t go back. He’s forever changed. He’s in love with his best friend, who has become his teammate, his greatest rival. He’s never going to love anyone else. He can’t. Satoru takes up too much space. He’s eclipsed everything that Suguru thought he could be, everything the sport thought he could be, he’s become something to orbit. 

He has a gravitational pull all of his own, now, and Suguru is caught in it. He was its first victim, when they were both small and it barely existed. Now there’s no hope of getting out alive.

“We should just go, the three of us, you me Shoko,” he breathes out, “old times,” 

Satoru nods, frantic, eyes watery. 

 

—

 

FINAL STANDINGS - DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP, G1 2012

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	367
2	Yuki TSUKUMO	Scuderia Keicho	365
3	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	309
4	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	293

 

—

 

BREAKING: YUKI TSUKUMO TO RETIRE FROM G1 RACING FOR 2013 SEASON

 

AMANAI RIKO TO DRIVE FOR SCUDERIA KEICHO IN 2013

 

NANAMI KENTO TO JOIN G1 GRID IN 2013: Everything You Need To Know

 

—

 

September 2022, the Netherlands

 

Shoko links her arm through Gojo’s, smiling at the hostess who very clearly thinks they’re on a date. It’s funny, sometimes. They play it up if nobody knows who they are, faking marriage proposals for the thrill of a free dessert. 

Shoko sits opposite him, adjusting her dress, “so, no team orders for Yuuji today, how long do you think that’ll last?” 

Gojo hums, “dunno. But I’m not surprised.” 

“I am. I thought that he’d be stricter with it,” Shoko says, tapping the edge of the menu. Gojo says nothing, just looking at her. She frowns, sighing, “look, I’m- you’re okay,”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Look, he- Getou said some nasty stuff to me, when he left. Well, before he left, really, y’know, in the title fight between you two. I get that he was- he wasn’t doing great. He wasn’t eating, or whatever, but- you don’t- you don’t take shit out on your race engineer. I was just doing my job.” 

“I didn’t know that,” 

It doesn’t sound like him either. It makes something ugly swoop in his stomach, that this was happening in the same buildings as him and he didn’t know.

“I never told you,” Shoko says, soft, “how were you supposed to know?” 

There’s a pause. “What did he say?” 

“Lots of things. I’m not sure he really meant any of them,” Shoko sighs, and then, when she sees Gojo’s pointed glare, rolls her eyes, continuing, “he accused me of favouring you, mostly. Gave me the cold shoulder outside of races. Didn’t reply to any of my messages. I kept trying to reach him for like, six months, after he retired.” 

That leaves a sour taste in Gojo’s mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

A small laugh jumps from her lips, “Satoru. You were unreachable. And I don’t think you wanted to hear it. If I told you back then, I think you would’ve quit racing.” 

Something thrums in Gojo’s chest. So what if he quit racing? So what if he quit after three championships, instead of six? “I would’ve quit racing anyway, if you didn’t come back,” he says, instead. “I told Yaga,” 

“I know,” Shoko smiles, “it’s why I came back. Y’know I tried to get Getou to stay, too?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I wanted him to work things out with you. But it wasn’t about you, I don’t think. It was his dad, and his mom, the travel, everything.” She winces. “Amanai. Haibara. But he didn’t want to talk about those things,” 

“I think I’m gonna retire. At the end of this season,” Gojo says, then, because it’s hard to keep it in any longer. “I just wanted to tell you,” 

“I’m happy for you two-” Shoko says, cautious, “but don’t- this isn’t for him, is it?” 

“No.” Satoru says, and it feels true. Racing is so much of his life, and he needs to find something else to live for. He’s made his money. He’s broken his records. “I always said I would go, if I won seven.” 

Shoko taps her ankle on his shin under the table, “you haven’t won it yet.” 

But he’s fifty points ahead, with a handful of races left. 

It’s time to move on.

Notes:

tw: eating disorder mentions, grief, generally negative mental health, uuuh descriptions of crashes ?

HOW! ARE WE! FEELING! lewis hamilton to ferrari in 2025, im losing my fucking marbles, charles leclerc is truly fucking insane bc apparently he knew lewis would be coming in and still signed a long term contract??? albon to red bull?? albon to merc??? ALONSO TO MERC??? silly season is HERE and the season hasn't started yet

anyway, the track in this chapter is Zandvoort! pls comment for a kiss, come find me on tumblr, plsplpslpls

(if youre an anon that hasnt commented in a while, sound off, lemme know if ur still reading and enjoying :) love you guys)

Chapter 16: xvi - traction control

Summary:

A computerised system that detects if either of a car's driven (rear) wheels is losing traction - ie spinning - and transfers more drive to the wheel with more traction, thus using its more power efficiently. Outlawed from the 2008 season onwards.

Notes:

omg chapter 16 is this a charles leclerc reference????

warnings in end notes, nothing is untagged. pls be mindful that things get heavy from here on out.

weird fishes by radiohead and entombed by deftones were used to write this chapter

December 2012, Monaco

 

There’s a knock at Suguru’s door the day after he flies home, still half-dead from the alcohol and the drugs and the jet-lag. He blinks his eyes open, hard, and hears the knock again, and finally decides to push himself out of bed. Satoru must’ve lost his key, or something. So when he opens up his door to see Yuki standing there, looking fresh as a daisy, he groans. 

“Jesus,” 

“You look like shit,” she chirps. After she announced she wouldn’t be renewing her contract with Keicho in the post-race pressers, she’s seemed lighter. At the afterparty in Brazil, she didn’t seem to care much about the lost championship, especially when she was doing lines in the bathroom with Suguru. I already have three of the things, I tell you, it’s overrated, she’d said, wiping powder from her nose, and then disappearing with Choso somewhere, leaving him at the bar with a girl sidling up to him, smiling sweetly.  

Satoru had taken up most of his attention that night anyway. 

“Thanks.” He sighs, letting her in. There’s a box under her arms, and she waltzes into his apartment. “It’s nice in here,” 

“Yeah, I only got home, like,” he pulls his phone from his pocket, “ten hours ago.” 

Yuki laughs. “Well, I came to swap helmets with you, since I’m not racing anymore.” 

“I already swapped with Satoru,” he says, because he has. Satoru has the helmet from their first season in G1 together, when Suguru raced for Keicho, and Suguru has Satoru’s first world championship helmet. The helmets they wore in their first season together as teammates. The social media team had recorded it, taken photos, made it a thing. He thought Yuki knew.

“Oh, I know,” Yuki hums, “this one is from 2011, our last year as teammates, so I was hoping we could swap those ones,” 

“I-” Suguru swallows, “it’s not in the best shape.” 

Yuki raises her eyebrows at that, “you kept the fucked up one? Surely there was one of the others that you could keep.” 

Shrugging, Suguru looks away. “It felt right to keep that one.” As a reminder. You could’ve been dead. You’re lucky to be alive. There’s the proof. 

“Well, we can swap anyway,” she shrugs, “I’ve written you a message on this one now, and I have no clue why we never swapped helmets anyway, so- go on. Grab it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Suguru.” 

That’s enough for Suguru to go to his display, pulling down the helmet with careful hands. It’s dented on the right side, where his head smacked against the debris from his car. Yuki whistles when she sees it. “I didn’t realise how bad it was.” 

“You don’t have to take it,” Suguru says, “I didn’t even write you something for it, I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Did Gojo write something on his?” 

Suguru looks up to where he’s haphazardly displayed Gojo’s 2012 helmet, alongside the 2010 one. On the 2010 helmet there’s a massive dick drawn all over the back, and on the 2012 one, there’s just a thank you scrawled in white ink. He likes that Satoru wrote that, instead of something hammed up for the cameras. “Nah.” 

“Then you’re fine,” 

“You really don’t have to take it.” 

Yuki looks at his face, then the dented helmet, and sighs. “Yes I do.” 

Suguru wonders what that means. 

 

—

 

to Suguru, 

if not for that freak Toji, you would’ve had two championships already. 2011 was yours, and without the injury recovery, you could’ve easily beaten gojo this year, too. in all my years racing, i’ve never met anyone like you, who’s given so much and still has so much left to give. don’t waste it. win in 2013 for me, now i can’t beat gojo. i’m rooting for you, now and always. 

here’s the championship-winning helmet from a year where you should have won. it’s yours now. win for me, and i’ll see you in the paddock with my microphone. you’re brilliant. time to prove it to the world. 

 -yuki xoxo

 

—

 

September 2022, Monaco

 

The double header is brutal: it always is. Most of the teams go straight to Italy from the Netherlands, and since everyone goes, Gojo does too. There’s nothing for him in Monaco to go back to. So he follows Jujutsu Tech like a lost puppy, like their pet, and thinks about leaving. Going home. 

The problem is that he doesn’t really know where home is, if it’s not on the track with Shoko and Getou. 

 

—

 

Opinion: The Constructor’s championship was Keicho’s to lose. How did it go wrong? / G1 News / Long Reads / Opinion Pieces

Written by Amy Harries, 6th September 2022

 

At the beginning of the season, many commentators and journalists, myself included, hedged a sure bet: Scuderia Keicho were in prime position to take the first place honours in the Constructor’s Championship, with what looked to be not only the youngest, but the most talented pairing on the grid. Okkotsu, fresh off the back of a world title won with the sport’s most prolific driver as his teammate, and Itadori, who had shown phenomenal potential in his rookie season, being touted as the next Sukuna, or the next Gojo. 

[ID: A photo of Gojo, Itadori, and Okkotsu together in the paddock from the 2021 season. Gojo is in the middle, wearing a non-branded outfit with baggy cargo trousers and a cropped sweater, flanked by Itadori on his right in Sengoku team gear, and Okkotsu in Keicho team gear on his left. Both younger men are focused on Gojo, who appears to be talking about something.]

What’s more, the resignation of the previous, long-standing team principal made way for change and fresh blood in the form of the prolific Suguru Getou, the 2014 G1 world champion, and Gojo’s closest rival in all his years in the sport. Publications called it a “full circle moment” - a reignition of an old rivalry, and it was certainly proved when both seemed frosty towards each other at the season’s start. 

[ID: Two images side by side: Image 1 features a picture of Getou and Gojo from the 2013 Australian Grand Prix, hugging each other side-on and smiling. Getou’s fist is raised triumphantly and they’re both wet from champagne. Image 2 is from pre-season testing in 2022, with Gojo glaring at Getou, who has his back turned to us, arms folded across his chest.]

But their sourness toward each other has mellowed throughout the season, and with it, Gojo’s lead at the top of the championship has grown. From Yuuji Itadori leading the standings briefly after the Emilia Romanga GP, Gojo has found momentum that Keicho has not been able to provide to its drivers, and pulled away. After the Dutch GP, despite a win for Yuuji, a third place result for Yuuta, and a lacklustre fourth for Gojo, the points gap at the top is still fifty points for the drivers’, and forty points in the constructors’. 

JTR took a major risk this season in signing a rookie: the G2 champion Megumi Fushiguro, who has long been regarded as a generational talent, and was under their development program. Gojo himself had been vocal about his promise in the sport, but regardless, the risk of putting a rookie in a top team has always been immense. So many thought that, despite Gojo having a clear shot at the driver’s, if his car was good and reliable enough, Keicho could make use of both its drivers experience to bring home the constructors’. 

[ID: A photo of Gojo and Fushiguro from 2021. Megumi is walking alongside Gojo, who has his blue G2 race overalls tied around his waist, looking off to his left. Gojo is following his gaze, his arm loose over Fushiguro’s shoulder. They look tense.]

But two things have happened to give Jujutsu Tech the lead. Fushiguro has been, admittedly, impressive. His tyre wear could use work, but he’s right up on the pace with a six-time world champion, and he’s proven himself this season. And, of course, Keicho have had poor luck. Itadori has had a DNF where he was not at fault in Miami, cheating him out of a potentially big points haul after a good start. Team strategy also robbed him of a win in Canada. 

[ID: A closeup of Yuuji, taken after the 2022 Canadian GP. His face is obscured by his hand, and his mouth is pulled in a grimace.]

Alongside that, Okkotsu has been largely disappointing, and has failed to keep the pressure on Gojo in a meaningful way. The double DNF in Spain certainly didn’t help matters either. 

[ID: A photo of the wreck of the Keicho cars in the gravel in Spain, 2022. Itadori is in front, kicking the gravel, and Okkotsu is clambering out of his car in the background]

To clinch the constructors’ championship, they require decisive action from their team principal, who has largely been avoiding giving team orders, even though the team has now said it will favour Okkotsu for a title charge against Gojo. 

If Suguru Getou can’t get over his past and push the right strategy to get his team as harmonious as possible, he’ll lose a constructors’ championship that should have been theirs: a terrible way to start his tenure. 

 

—

 

January 2013, Monaco

 

“This is too heavy!” Riko moans, shuffling the box in her arms, bumping it up under her knees. 

“Y’know, you could put it down, since we’re in the elevator,” Satoru teases, holding his much bigger box on his hip, sunglasses propped up amongst wild strands of hair. His grin is blinding, compared to the lack of sun in Monaco in January. It’s bitingly cold, actually. Suguru finds himself wishing they lived further inland. 

“You know I won’t be able to pick it up again.” She sends him a glare, blue eyes staring daggers at him. 

“Yeah, cause you’re like four foot.” Satoru says, very proud of himself for the dig. Suguru sees his jaw flex slightly and his eyelashes flutter in the mirror. 

“FOUR FOOT-!” Riko exclaims, eyes so wide they threaten to pop out of her skull. “I’ll have you know I’m five-five, and you’re just stupidly tall and you’re so tall that I can’t even hear you-” 

“I am not stupidly tall-” 

“Can’t hear you! You’re too far up in the clouds-” 

Satoru huffs and yanks the box out of Riko’s hands, stomping out the elevator when the doors open. Riko shrieks in indignation as Suguru chuckles to himself, following them out into the hallway where Riko is shouting something at him in hurried Italian that Suguru can’t quite follow through the distortion of the four walls surrounding them. 

He’s much closer when he hears Satoru griping about her not having the keys ready, rooting around in her skirt pocket, and she’s blushing, embarrassed. Satoru yanks the keys out of her pockets, somehow, and she gripes at him, but they get the door open. 

Riko’s new apartment is nice. It’s small, compared to Satoru’s and Suguru’s places, but it was bought for her as a reward. For signing to Keicho. For becoming the youngest signing to the team since – 

Well, since forever. 

Suguru wolf whistles, and Satoru dumps the boxes, exaggerating a groan. Riko ignores Suguru and glares at Satoru. “Why did you even agree to help move me in if you’re going to bitch and whine about it.” 

“I didn’t agree! You begged,” grinning like a cat, Satoru reaches his arms behind his head, flexing his biceps. Suguru doesn’t look. 

“Getou can just help me with the rest, then,” Riko huffs, “since I’m such a pain,” 

Suguru thinks stop the press, the newly minted world champion’s still a whiny bitch , and chuckles to himself when Satoru’s cheeks flush, caught. Because he actually loves Riko. He wanted to help. He basically threw himself at the task. But admitting he loves someone is a tall order, so here they are. 

Helping Riko move into her new apartment, as preparation for her racing in red. It still feels slightly surreal, to see her move up to a top team so quickly, and so young. She was brilliant from the start, of course, well out-scoring not only her much more experienced teammate, but probably the car she was given to drive, too. So when Yuki retired, she was the obvious choice: development driver, young, full of potential. A lot of people were commenting that she had more potential than Utahime, which Suguru thought was cruel to say and Satoru thought was true. 

She hasn’t changed, though. Not even in the slightest. She’s still got a huge smile that she wears everywhere, still bugs them to come to the karting tracks with her when they have time, still stands on her tiptoes around Satoru to try and shrink their height difference. Suguru thinks Haibara must have taken so many videos of the two of them fighting about stupid shit. Half of them are on social media, flooded with comments from fans calling them cute and saying they can’t wait to see them able to fight for positions out on track. 

Suguru has a bet with Utahime saying they’ll crash into each other at least once this season, which he’s hoping he’ll win. Utahime had said begrudgingly that they were all professionals so Satoru wouldn’t throw a result like that, but Suguru is counting on Riko’s inexperience and both of them being idiots. 

He loves them, but they’re idiots. 

Case in point: them arguing about whether Riko’s couch is ugly right now. 

 

—

 

“I fucking hate media,” Satoru whines, leaning back in the little chair they’ve made him sit in. His legs wobble in the air as he almost falls off the back of it. Suguru hears someone giggle from behind the cameras and the lights. 

“They just want to get to know you,” a girl says, adjusting something on one of the lenses. They’re rolling already, Suguru can tell from the red lights blinking on top of the cameras. It’s for a sponsor, one that’s new for this season. They’d switched from Sengoku this season, because of Satoru’s world championship. Their logo is two fish circling each other, one white, one black, which, when Suguru shook the boss’ hand, he’d seemed thrilled about. 

“Oh, it’s such a brilliant coincidence, with you two. White and black hair, yes? We’re so thrilled to be on board, I tell you,” 

Suguru had winced and smiled. The company is Japanese, which means that they’re mainly there to back him over Satoru, who has bought in his own Italian sponsors, but they’re also investing - to Suguru’s understanding, at least - a clinically insane amount of money in the team. They’re a title sponsor. They want to see Suguru do well over Satoru. 

Them being the title sponsor also means the team colours are changing slightly. Neither of them have seen the two race suits, yet, but according to Shoko, who managed to sneak a look, they’re “so cool, you guys will love them,” 

But despite the company being Japanese, the boss is American. Well, Japanese, Suguru thinks, but born and raised in Los Angeles. Which means his demeanour is- 

It’s a lot. 

Satoru rocks from side to side on his chair, squinting at the lights. They’d veto-ed the sunglasses, which means he’ll bitch about it later to Suguru when they’re in their apartment, but right now, he’s all smiles, even if his eyes twitch. 

“They already know me,” Satoru huffs, in response to the girl, “Gojo, world champion, you get it,” 

“They want to know the both of you,” she replies, which isn’t cryptic at all, and shuffles one of the lights so it blares more consistently right into Suguru’s eyes. Great. 

“It’s not my fault he doesn’t talk about his life,” Satoru huffs, “you should just do an interview with him,” he turns, grinning, saying in Italian, so the crew doesn’t understand them, “they’re your sponsor anyway,” 

“They’re sponsoring the team, you dumbass,” Suguru replies, using the same word for sponsor that Satoru did and hoping it’s right in the context. Italian isn’t his strongest suit. 

“You’re the Japanese driver,” Satoru replies, crossing his arms as if that solves it. Suguru switches back to English, snapping. 

“We’re both Japanese!” He blurts, and Satoru giggles, flushing because he’s managed to break Suguru from his usual calm demeanour in front of the cameras. 

The girl behind the cameras smiles, looking between them. “This is why we interview you together,” before she claps her hands and grins even more widely, “o-kay! So we just have some prompt cards, this or that type stuff, you know?” 

She steps forward, in her kitten heels with her slender legs on show in her knee length skirt. She has dark, straight hair, deep brown eyes, pale skin. She’d make a good girlfriend, Suguru thinks. Satoru looks up at her, flashes her a charming grin, and she blushes, imperceptibly. Oh, of course. 

She looks sort of like the girl that Suguru had taken home after Interlagos, and less like the one he’d kissed at the bar in a Monaco club on New Year’s Eve. She’d been blonde, almost as tall as him. Satoru had, of course, whined about how she looked like Yuki, even though she was much too soft at the edges to be anything like Yuki. She’d also been English, Suguru thinks. They hadn’t spent much time talking, if he’s being honest, and she’d already been gone in the morning. 

Satoru notices him staring, then gets this wicked grin on his face, and there’s no time to correct him before he’s tilting his head at the girl who Suguru really should know the name of, “hey, you doing anything after this?” 

They’re both good looking. Suguru knows this to be true. If either of them wanted, they could have been going home with a different model every race weekend since they were teenagers. But neither of them were interested in that, and when Suguru finally got over himself and kissed that girl in Brazil (there’s a first time for everything) he was surprised by how easy it could be. Grab her waist, make her feel special, kiss soft and slow and don’t rush. Have a reputation for being a playboy so they don’t expect to stay, even though Suguru hasn’t bought home a girl the entire time they’ve been in Grade One. 

The girls that hang around the drivers on race weekends have apparently been lying about him for a while. That’s fine. It helps as a cover for being pathetically in love with his best friend. 

The girl laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear. Satoru has that effect on people. “Um. No?” 

“Well, we were going to go out to a club tonight with Haibara, Nanami, a couple of others, you know them?” 

The girl glances between Suguru and Satoru nervously. “Um, yeah, I-” 

“Invite a couple friends,” Satoru smiles, looking her up and down, “you wanna come out with us?” 

The girl’s eyes go wide, and her cheeks flush. She looks at Suguru again, asking for permission, he realises. He pastes on an easy smile. “You wanna?” 

It would be easy. They’re famous enough that girls would sleep with them purely for bragging rights. The girl is pretty, and clearly at least a little into them, and if she comes out and doesn’t want to get with them, it’s not like Suguru would ever really complain. He already knows Satoru isn’t really interested in her, because he’s never been interested in a woman in his life. 

She smiles, presses her lips together, “yeah, okay.” 

The questions are in their hands, now, and the girl coughs as she steps back, “well, we were already rolling, so,” she tucks her hair behind her ear again, “um, you guys just need to do a quick intro and then we can get started.” 

Suguru looks briefly at the black t-shirt that Satoru is wearing. It hangs off his shoulders, a little oversized, the way he likes it. The Koi fish on it, in white, stands out and matches his hair at the same time. He watches as he twists in his seat and the fabric moves across his skin. Satoru claps his hands together. “Right! Okay! So, I’m Suguru Getou,” he grins, like he knows that Suguru’s going to play along. Because he is. 

Suguru sighs, “and I’m Satoru Gojo,” 

“Aaand this is this or that for the Koi Company!” Satoru grins, turning to Suguru and grinning. “Do we start?” 

Someone from behind the cameras sends a thumbs up, and Satoru looks down at his cards. “Oh, this one’s easy,” he says, “Monaco or Silverstone.” 

“Silverstone,” Suguru says, immediately, and watches Satoru’s face scrunch up, “but he’s gonna be a baby about it because he likes Monaco the most,” 

“You won Monaco, why would you pick Silverstone?” 

Suguru shrugs. Monaco always feels slightly stressful until they get to the pool. 

“Your turn anyway,” 

“Uh,” Suguru looks down at his own cards, “drive in the wet or the dry?” 

Satoru wrinkles his nose, “you’re gonna say wet, cause you’re a pussy,” 

Someone from behind the camera groans, and Satoru throws his hands up, “okay, sorry, no swearing, got it! Uh- for me, wet. I like lapping people,” 

“Your head is so big.” 

“I’m right though,” Satoru hums, “okay, summer or winter? Wait, guys, I have it already, it’s summer, he doesn’t even need to answer that one,” 

“Satoru,” 

“So you like winter all of a sudden after bitching about- sorry guys- so you like the winter all of a sudden after complaining about the wind in Monaco all this time?” 

Suguru sighs, levelling Satoru a glare, and leans back in his chair. Satoru turns back to the cameras, addressing them and gesturing at Suguru. “See!” 

“Okay, uh, cats or dogs, Satoru,” 

“Cats. Comedy film or horror films?” 

“Horror, you know it’s horror. What about you-” 

“Eugh. Neither of us have time to be watching movies-” 

“He’s saying that because he’s a wimp and he hates horror,” Suguru grins, to which Satoru gasps. 

“No!” 

“Okay, uh. Pizza or pasta,” 

Satoru frowns, and Suguru knows they’re both thinking the same thing. They can’t have either of those things during the season. Too many carbs, low nutritional value. “Pizza,” 

The questions go on like that for a while, too many of them, until the cards get switched for someone asking questions behind the camera. Not the same girl that Satoru asked out, thank god, someone else. She’s a little older, clearly more in charge than she was. Something of an ambassador for the company, to Suguru’s understanding. They pull up a chair for her, squishing Suguru and Satoru together on one side of the set, her facing them. 

“So,” she says, once she’s introduced herself and them to the camera again. Suguru thinks it might be questions from fans, this time. If you told little him that yes, he does get to drive in Grade One, and no, the majority of his time is not spent driving, he’d combust. “The biggest question we have is whether you’re planning to drive with the number one this year, Gojo,” 

“Nah,” Satoru says, “I like thirty-seven. I’m gonna keep it, it matches Suguru’s.” 

“Well, someone asked here about your numbers, because they’re both of your birthdays swapped, is that why you’re keeping it?” 

Satoru frowns, squinting at his own hands, then he turns to Suguru, “wait, oh, like third of February, seventh of December-” 

Suguru can’t hold it in- he laughs, “oh my god, I just picked at random back in like, G3, and I always wanted three in my number because of my birthday, and I just picked a random number to go before it,” 

“And I just picked to match him,” Satoru laughs, “that’s a crazy coincidence,” 

The interviewer chuckles to herself, “so you picked another number to go alongside three and coincidentally picked your friend’s birthday?” 

Satoru nudges his shoulder and grins at him. Oh, Suguru is never going to live this down. 

 

—

 

The girl does meet them in the club, later. She brings a couple of friends, girls who gaze at the VIP section with wide eyes and take a while to loosen up. 

Suguru doesn't take any of them home. It feels a bit wrong, when it seems like they might catch feelings. It's not like he wants to date girls, after all. Or- anyone, really. 

 

—

 

September 2022, Italy

 

It’s a homecoming, Monza. Always, a brilliant thing that lives and breathes. The home of triumphs, of unexpected wins. And it’s a devastating place to come back to, always, a home race that isn’t, quite. 

The crowd is here for him, somewhat. But it’s also here for Yuuji and Yuuta, who race in red, for the country’s national team, basically, and it is kind of a robbery that Gojo’s never raced for Keicho. His home team, really. 

“You never wanted to race for them,” Getou shrugs. Their ankles are touching under the edge of the bar where Getou has a glass of wine in front of him and Gojo has fruit juice. 

“Nah, that was Yuki’s team. Anyone with a brain could see that,” Gojo hums, stirring, watching the fruit swirl, “and then after she left it was probably gonna be yours, so.” 

“You got offered the seat before me, though,” Getou says, and Gojo is caught off-guard. He kind of thought he might have known, but to put it so bluntly-

“Only informally,” he rushes to correct, “I never, like, sat down at the table with them.” 

“Yuki told me,” Getou placates, smiling easily. “It’s not like it was my seat at the time anyway. I think the plan was to put me in Nara for a couple of years, until I won in Monza, and then Suzuka happened, and after that, there weren’t really any doubts about announcing it.” 

Gojo remembers that weekend. The grand chelem. The only driver to ever do it in G2, past or present, to this day. He remembers seeing Suguru on the podium, seeing something different. He remembers, distinctly, that despite all the tears and phone calls in the months leading up to it, that he hadn’t cried that entire weekend. Satoru hadn’t known what to do. Then, or now. He thinks about what Shoko said, about how it all went wrong in 2014. 

“You know, my contract’s up this year, you could sign me.” 

“In your dreams, Satoru,” 

The thing is, when Shoko told him, it had burned through his insides with the desire to know more, to ask, to get an explanation. In 2014, he’d barely talked to anyone: Shoko is right. He’d been bounced between races and parties, between podium champagne and lines of coke in club bathrooms. He really couldn’t get away with that now, even if he still wanted to, ending up in stranger’s beds. He was lucky he never got outed back then. Yaga made at least ten people sign an NDA. 

It makes sense that he didn’t notice, but now he doesn’t know how to bring it up. It’s not like Suguru hadn’t been there with him, at celebrations and heated debriefs and hotel rooms. But Satoru hadn’t noticed, and now he doesn’t know how to bring it up. 

Like, hey, sorry I didn’t notice that you were sick. You were beating me in the points and that felt more important, at the time? God, what an asshole he sounds like. 

And call him selfish, but he likes this. He likes having Getou under him on the sheets, throat bared, working as he swallows and sets his jaw to offset the pleasure Gojo’s giving him. He likes having control, being useful, making him feel good. 

There’s a delicate balance that he’s trying to maintain. It’s already hard, when they’re flying around the world and managing their legacies and their successors. When they’re elite figures in their sport: a sport that doesn’t seem particularly keen to accept them for what they are and what they’ve always been. 

He watches his hips move as he strolls out onto the balcony and lights a cigarette. And then feels guilty, because he didn’t even realise when he started smoking. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Thursday Press Conference (Group One) - Nanami Kento (Sengoku Racing), Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji Itadori (Scuderia Keicho) & Nobara Kugisaki (Meiji) - conducted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: So, Nanami, I’ll start with you! Monza, and coming off the back of a fairly strong weekend for you in Zandvoort. 

NANAMI KENTO: Yeah, we both scored some good points. A pretty good weekend overall, another one that sort of felt like a best of the rest kind of week, but I think that’s sort of where the team is, right now. 

Q: Are you confident here? Monza is definitely somewhere where the unexpected happens. 

NK: Sure. But I think at this point, the fight for the title is rightfully between Keicho and Jujutsu Tech [to Gojo] as he’ll tell you, so our focus has shifted to next year’s car, and we hope to be closer to the other teams next year. 

Q: Okay, moving to you, then, Gojo. Home race, you had a slightly disappointing result in Zandvoort, are you confident you can deliver here?

SATORU GOJO: Oh, Yuki, you never fail to disappoint. Of course we had the engine penalty in Zandvoort, but I actually qualified very close to Yuuji there, so we are confident we’ll be strong. We have upgrades, but I think a lot of people do, including this kid here- [he gestures to Itadori] so that might not give us very much in terms of raw pace. But yeah, I’ll try my hardest to deliver here for the home crowd, Monza is a special race for me, and a fun one, so. 

Q: You’re currently about fifty points ahead of Okkotsu and seventy ahead of Itadori, with eight rounds remaining including this one. Do you think you can say you have one hand on this championship already? 

SG: I think so, but it’s not over until its over, and crazier things have happened in this sport than a gap of that size being closed. 

Q: Okay, Yuuji, congrats on the win in Zandvoort! It was a brilliant drive out there. How does it feel to come to Keicho’s home race with the momentum of a win? 

YUUJI ITADORI: Thanks! It was nice to be on the top step again, definitely. It’s nice after a couple of bad races to have a win, to reaffirm that I’m capable, to the fans and the teams, and to come here with such an incredible crowd behind me. I’m confident in delivering the best results. 

Q: There’s been questions raised about your consistency. Are you confident that you can change that, going forward?

YI: Yes. That’s it. Yes. 

Q: Last but not least, Nobara! Meiji have upgrades this week, tell us about those. 

NOBARA KUGISAKI: Yeah! Uh. Of course we have the different rear wing, like everyone, um, and then– actually, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to talk about them that much? We have a floor upgrade, which helps with the downforce, too, and the balance. It felt good in the sim, so. Yeah, I’m happy about it. 

Q: And you’ve been closing the gap between you and your teammate, out qualifying her in the last three rounds. Any tension in the team?

NK: None. I’m still working hard, as is she. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (Josh Kitchener - Modern Motorsport): Gojo, you have been repeatedly and pointedly not discounting Yuuji from the title fight across the season. Now Yuuji is twenty points behind his teammate and seventy behind you, is he out of this fight?

SG: [whistles] [to Itadori] What a question, huh? You wanna answer? 

YI: I don’t think I’m out of the fight. It would take some kind of insane luck, I think, but stranger things have happened in the sport. [laughs] My team principal will tell you that. 

SG: Oh, I’m sure Suguru would. Um- sorry. To answer your question, no, I don’t think Yuuji’s out of the fight. He qualifies better than Yuuta on average, so we’ll see. 

Q (Grace Daily - Motorsport Weekly): To Yuuji, you’re off the back of a win, and you’re racing in red. What would it mean to win here, for the home crowd? 

YI: Don’t jinx me! Uh, but, yeah, it would be incredible. The fans here are already– it’s been an insane couple of days. So yeah, I wanna win, for sure. 

 

—

 

May 2013, Monaco 

 

“You know, your race suits are so cool,” Riko says, sipping from her drinks tube, “I wish Keicho did shit like that.” 

“It’s the sponsors,” Satoru hums, “but they do look cool,” 

The racesuits are nice to look at. They don’t match: Suguru’s is white, with black logos, and Satoru’s is black with white. When they stand next to each other, the contrast looks good. Like yin and yang, one of their PR handlers said, once, when they were doing the pre-season photoshoots. 

Satoru’s in a mood again, anyway. After the first two races, they were equal on points, and after the third, he lead by ten. But after Suguru’s win in Bahrain, he comes into Monaco leading the championship. He says he’s not annoyed by it, but he’s snappy sometimes. Always a little distracted by the racing. Like he’s never really had to focus before now , Shoko had said, cigarette balanced between her lips. 

“Keicho’s red has a whole legacy,” he says to Riko, in absence of any meaningful response from Satoru across the table. He picks around pieces of chicken in his salad, and puts a mouthful to his lips, counting to five as she launches into a tirade about how he’s biased. 

 

—

 

It all comes back to Monaco, really. It always comes back to Monaco, he thinks, as he steps up onto the podium, as he waves to the crowd. 

It all comes back to Monaco, he thinks, in the rain. It’s cold, and he’s not sure if they’ll all still jump in the pool when they’re soaked through already. He thinks he might push Utahime in, though, as he watches her take her place on the podium. 

The crowd roars as Riko runs out. Of course it does. Below them, if Suguru squints, he can see Satoru screaming for her, waving his fists in the air. He’s supposed to be here for him, but six races in, Suguru is pulling away at the top of the championship standings and this is still Riko’s first win. Her first win in red, and she’s beaming, because a strategy call worked in her favour, along with an engine failure for Satoru at the front. And now she’s here. Winning from fourth. 

He watches her on the podium. Her hands are tucked neatly behind her back, and she’s got her chin jutted out, proud, as they play the anthems. Suguru can’t tell if she’s crying, or if it’s just the rain, but then he sees her throat jump as she waves to the team below, and it’s something raw. Something small. 

She’s so young. She’s only three years younger. She’s a kid. She’s an incredibly talented driver, well-liked by everyone. She’s the next big thing. 

He was that, two years ago. He feels the need to pull her close and protect her from what will come, what will change. But maybe things will go better for her. She’s already quicker than Utahime. 

She could be their number one in a way that Suguru doubted he was capable of being, when he was there. 

He dumps the entire bottle of champagne straight over her head, as does Utahime, and Riko tilts her head up, blinking it from her eyes and gasping for air with a smile. “Do we get to go in the pool, if we won?” She asks, eyes brilliant and bright, and who is Suguru to deny her?

 

—

 

OFFICIAL STANDINGS AFTER R6 - G1 Drivers’ Championship 2013

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	113
2	Amanai RIKO	Scuderia Keicho	98
2	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	98
4	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	92

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

September 2022, Italy

 

Yuki and Haibara are both at Monza. Yuki because she’s still somehow Italy’s darling, and hosts all of the broadcasting all weekend, switching with ease between Italian when she speaks to the mechanics in the Keicho garage, and the rest of the general public in practised English. She pretty much refuses to speak to Gojo in Italian, though. Instead, she looks at him with a measured gaze and smiles sweetly. 

He doesn’t hate her. Not anymore. Not the way he did when he was younger, a kind of rumbling jealousy that consumed him whole when he thought about the way Getou looked at her. Everyone thought they were sleeping together at the time. Gojo still isn’t completely convinced they didn’t, the way she acts sometimes. Like now. 

Standing in front of the Keicho garage, microphone extended, nodding along with Haibara asking some sort of question. He can’t hear what they’re talking about from here, over the rumble of wheel guns and the chatter of mechanics. 

But he can see. He can see Getou’s soft smile and the way his eyes crinkle when Yuki talks. And he knows they were teammates, but it was only for two years, and honestly– what warrants that. 

He looks at Gojo like that now, too. He’s not blind. But they’ve also fucked. So. 

He hears his name shouted from within the garage and turns away. They’ll come to ask Yaga, soon, about their prospects. How the car is looking for quali. How the drivers are feeling. As if Yuki doesn’t know, anyway. As if Haibara doesn’t know. He never really was friendly with Yuki, at all. Still, sometimes, he feels like she sees through him. 

He heads into the garage, gets handed a resistance band, and gets to warming up. 

 

—

 

Transcript for Post-Qualification Press Conference, Italian Grand Prix 2022, Top Three finishers – hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome, to our top three finishers! In third, Satoru Gojo, in second, Yuuta Okkotsu, and on pole, Yuuji Itadori. You said you wanted this, but this is incredible. Pole for Keicho at home, how are you feeling? 

YUUJI ITADORI: Uh, incredible. Yeah, that was- I don’t think there was anything left in that lap, to be honest. I was just pushing on the limit, trying to get everything out of it. 

Q: Are you surprised with the amount of pace you’ve found here? You seem to be a lot stronger than Jujutsu this weekend. 

YI: Yeah, I’m surprised by the gap because they have some upgrades too, but neither of us bought a major package this week. [laughs] I think it’s just Keicho, and being home in Italy. 

Q: Yuuta, moving on to you! Fast lap out there, how did it feel?

YUUTA OKKOTSU: Good. I think I probably could have got some more out of it in sector two, but I was still fast enough for second, so I’m pleased. 

Q: A one-two for Keicho at home and a front-row lockout, how sweet is that?

YO: Very. The fans have been incredible. We’re just feeling so welcomed here. 

Q: Last but not least, Gojo! Third place for you this week, looked like you lacked a bit of pace out there compared to the Keichos today. 

SATORU GOJO: Yeah, not the best quali, but our set-up is optimised for race pace this weekend and we knew somewhat that we would be slightly off in quali. We’re about where we expected to be. 

Q: You’ve won here five times over the years - do you think you could take victory again from behind the front row tomorrow?

SG: Yes. 

 

—

 

Yaga leans back in his chair, massaging the space between his eyebrows. Debrief is barely productive, but it's turned mostly into a strategy meeting, with most of the engineers going home to rest. Only Kamo, Megumi, Gojo and Shoko remain. 

“It all depends on what Keicho decide to do,” he says, sighing deeply, “if they flip the cars to have Yuuji defend, we’re in trouble.” 

“I can get past Yuuji.” Gojo huffs, rather annoyed at the suggestion he couldn’t. 

“But it allows him to build a gap out front,” Shoko winces, “they have the better car this weekend.” 

That much is true. If either driver pulls a gap too big to bridge, they’re stuck. Either Yuuta or Yuuji winning this weekend means the gap being closed not an insignificant amount. If either of them win a good amount of races, even if Gojo comes second every time, the championship could still be lost. 

“I don’t think they’ll swap the cars,” Megumi says, then, quiet. “Yuuji’s been faster all weekend.” 

Gojo agrees with him, not because Yuuji’s faster (he is, but that’s besides the point). “Getou has seemed hesitant about team orders. The gap is small enough between them to justify not invoking team orders, points wise.” 

“The smart thing to do would be to push Yuuta for the win, so let’s hope so,” Yaga sighs, standing up. “Let’s all rest up and we’ll just have our work cut out for us tomorrow,”

 

—

 

July 2013, Hungary

 

“She’s a surprise, isn’t she?” 

Yuki props her foot up on her knee. She’s looking over at where Riko and Satoru are standing together, trading cards that they manage to get away with bringing everywhere because they’re actual children. Someone’s filming them for social media, Suguru thinks, but he can’t be sure. 

Yuki looks more carefree than she did last year, in jeans and a black top and carrying a microphone around with her. 

“You gonna quote me for an article?” 

She laughs, taking a sip of her drink. Suguru isn’t quite sure what it is. “Nah, I can get quotes out of you in the pressers. There’s no need. I just wanted to know what you thought of her. She might be your closest competition this year.”

“Not Satoru?” Suguru hums. He will admit that his teammate has had a shitty start to the season, but he could easily make it up. 

“No.” Yuki says. “She’s four points behind you. He’s twenty behind. If the team prioritises her, she might give you a run for your money.” 

Suguru picks at his smoothie bowl. It’s been sat in the sun long enough that it’s all just flavourless mush, now. He blinks at it. Once Yuki leaves, he’ll throw it in the trash. It’s not like he needs to eat much during race weekends anyway. “She’s got less experience,” 

“You had less experience than me,” Yuki points out, “and you could have won against me had you not had the crash,” 

Or the team orders , Suguru thinks bitterly, but he doesn’t mention it to Yuki. As she finishes her sentence, Toji walks past them, gritting his teeth and shouting angrily down the phone in French. Both of them turn to look at him, as Yuki wrinkles her nose, “christ. Glad I’m not racing him anymore.” 

Suguru can’t help but agree. In Bahrain, he’d made contact with Satoru in the opening laps, received a penalty for it, and still refused to admit it was his fault. It’s not like Satoru is a clean racer - far from it - but the contact had dropped him through the places and cost him a podium, probably. The team was pissed, and Satoru more so. 

It also doesn’t help that everyone is pretty aware of the fact he almost killed Suguru in 2011. 

“Surely he’ll retire soon,” Suguru hums, “he has kids, right?” 

“They never come to races,” slowly, Yuki unhooks her foot from her knee, rolling her ankle. “I know his son started karting? But that’s it, really.” 

“I would’ve thought his son would come to races if he wants to race himself,” 

“I don’t think he likes the general public knowing he has kids. It’s not, like, common knowledge, amongst fans, I don’t think?” 

“You could make it common knowledge,” Suguru laughs, “just point a mic at him and ask how his son’s races are going,” 

“There’s a million reasons I cannot do that, Suguru,” Yuki giggles slightly, rolling her eyes, “but I’ll remember that,” 

 

—

 

HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX 2013 ROUNDUP: RIKO TRIUMPHS, TAKES CHAMPIONSHIP LEAD / G1 News 

Written by David Cook, July 28th 2013

 

The Hungarian Grand Prix came to a close this afternoon, with Keicho’s new star Amanai Riko storming to victory for her fourth career win. It puts her above JTR’s Suguru Getou in second by three points going into the summer break. “I’m just so, so happy.” She said to Yuki Tsukumo post-race, “I thought I’d be a second driver and I was happy to be, but the car is incredible, and Keicho have supported me for a long time, and it’s brilliant to be giving back to them now.” 

[Image ID: A photo of Riko post-race, sweaty with her overalls unzipped. She’s smiling, with the microphone being held under her mouth by Tsukumo, who is wearing a black sleeveless top and jeans, with a red lanyard around her neck]

Suguru Getou, who has lead the championship standings since Bahrain, first from his own teammate and then from Riko, seems relaxed about going into the second half of the season in second place. “I mean, of course we want to lead into summer break, but I’m confident that a three point gap can be bridged. I have more experience, and what we hope will be the superior car after the break, so I’m confident I can deliver.” 

Satoru Gojo came in third, behind his teammate by just two seconds. The current world champion doesn’t seem perturbed by being twenty points behind the leaders going into the break: “it’s not where I wanna be, but I’ve had some bad luck, engine failure in Monaco where I could’ve won, and then contact with Toji [Fushiguro] in Bahrain, so I’ve lost a few points this season. I can pull back, but even if I can’t, the priority is the team, and Suguru [Getou]’s championship.” 

[Image ID: A photo of Getou and Gojo, side by side in parc ferme after the race. Gojo is standing to Getou’s left, with his arm squeezing his shoulders, grinning. Getou is rolling his eyes, but still smiling. Both of them look sweaty and tired, but happy]

Iori Utahime came home for fourth, followed by Toji Fushiguro who rounded out the top five. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL STANDINGS AFTER R10 - G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP 2013

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Amanai RIKO	Scuderia Keicho	188
2	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	185
3	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	162
4	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	142

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

September 2022, Italy

 

The sun shines brilliantly for the race. Track temperatures north of forty-five degrees: a proper tyre killer. It gives him hope that their setup might prevail since it prioritises being kind to the tyres rather than cooking them, but honestly he doesn’t know if Keicho’s setup is just faster in general. 

In theory, Gojo is better at tyre management than either Yuuta or Yuuji, but he’s learnt to expect the unexpected. 

Shoko is looking at Yuuji’s data again when he gets there, and he squints over her shoulder, thinking it's his own data at first. “You’re looking at this again?” 

It’s the data points from the pole lap. Shoko sighs, moves away from it, and opens the same panel from Gojo’s lap. “Look. The braking points are similar. Yuuta’s are later, we expected that, but his top speed isn’t as quick. I have absolutely no clue how Yuuji has managed to extract more speed.” 

“He might be on a different setup to Yuuta. Yuuta likes a bit more understeer, I think,” 

“What, understeer affects top speeds?” Shoko huffs, and Gojo shrugs. 

“It can affect a lot,” he replies. “You know a different setup can affect a lot,” 

He pats her shoulder reassuringly, and she groans, “I know, but it’s fucking annoying.” 

Realistically, the two of them have probably been on different setups for most of the season. Yuuta had a very different one to Gojo when he was in JTR, and Yuuji has a style similar to Gojo’s, if the onboards are anything to go by, along with Gojo’s own experience of him. So using the same setup wouldn’t make a lot of sense.

“Go warm up,” Shoko sighs, “no use worrying about any of this, you just need to race today.” 

 

—

 

Shuffling amongst the cars and the celebrities, Gojo gets shoved about, and ends up half-bumping into Yuki, who’s holding a microphone and standing next to Getou, who immediately smiles. 

“Ah, Gojo, I was looking for you, time for a chat?” 

Gojo looks at Getou and sighs, “yeah, like two questions,” 

“How are you feeling today, about your pace?” 

“Pretty confident,” Gojo postures, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward, “but it all depends on how you guys do strategy today, so we’ll see,” 

Getou laughs, “you know I was just saying that our race is gonna depend on your strategy,” 

“Oh great, so neither of us know what we’re doing?” Gojo grins back at him, “maybe we should both just go home, leave the win to Nanamin,” 

Yuki’s eyes flick between them and the side of her mouth twitches in a smile. Something self-satisfied. “Okay, Gojo, one more question, I think the anthems are starting soon, how does it feel to find your old rivalry and reignite it? It’s been a brilliant season so far,” 

“Ah- well. I’m racing Yuuji, really,” Gojo grins, “but yeah, it’s been good. A bit of fun. Especially considering I’m gonna win,” 

Getou raises an eyebrow, and laughs, “you sure?” 

Before Gojo can respond, he’s being ushered through the crowd to join the anthems, and that’s that. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPTS, ITALIAN GP 2022

 

LAP 7: 

 

MIGUEL: Gojo point-nine behind, he now has DRS. 

OKKOTSU: Copy. 

 

IERI: DRS enabled, let’s get him. 

GOJO: Copy. 

 

LAP 8: 

 

ITADORI: What’s the gap behind? 

TODO: Thirteen seconds. Yuuta is fighting Gojo. 

ITADORI: Copy. 

 

GOJO: Yes! 

IERI: Gap to Yuuji in front is thirteen seconds.

GOJO: Copy. 

 

OKKOTSU: ****. 

MIGUEL: Let’s get him back. 

 

LAP 10: 

 

GOJO: What’s the gap behind? He’s not falling away.

IERI: One-point-two. 

GOJO: Gap in front? 

IERI: Ten seconds. 

GOJO: Okay, copy.

 

LAP 11: 

 

GOJO: ****! He got my front wing, I’ve got damage. 

IERI: Copy, do you think you can stay out? It might result in less time lost than boxing. 

GOJO: I don’t know, I can’t see the damage, you guys need to assess it-

IERI: Copy Gojo we’re checking, stay out for now. 

 

OKKOTSU: Damage, damage, he got my side. 

MIGUEL: Damage to the front wing as well, box box. 

OKKOTSU: Copy. 

 

LAP 12: 

 

IERI: Gojo, stay out, we’ll switch the front wing when we switch the tyres. 

GOJO: Copy, but I’m losing time to Yuuji in front. 

IERI: You’re on pace with Megumi. 

GOJO: Right, copy. 

 

LAP 20: 

 

IERI: Box this lap, box this lap. 

GOJO: Copy. 

 

LAP 23: 

 

KAMO: Okay Megumi, box this lap. 

FUSHIGURO: Copy. 

 

LAP 27: 

 

TODOU: Okay, box this lap, box this lap. 

ITADORI: Copy. 

TODOU: You should still lead when you come out, closest car is Fushiguro, he’s currently twenty-eight seconds behind. 

ITADORI: Really? Ok, copy. 

 

LAP 33: 

 

GOJO: How far to Yuuji?

IERI: Ten-point-four, he’s on the medium, though. 

GOJO: Is it worth letting Megs through to try and fight for the win? I’m still carrying damage. 

IERI: He’s currently behind Yuuta. 

GOJO: ****, okay. 

 

LAP 42: 

 

KAMO: DRS enabled. 

FUSHIGURO: Copy. 

 

OKKOTSU: What’s the gap behind?

MIGUEL: Point-nine, Fushiguro behind with DRS. 

OKKOTSU: Copy. 

 

LAP 43: 

 

GOJO: Gap in front? 

IERI: Eleven-point-two. You’re doing well. 

 

LAP 44: 

 

KAMO: Nice job, let’s use the clean air to pull away now. 

FUSHIGURO: Yeah, copy. 

 

LAP 53: 

 

TODOU: YUUJI YOU ARE THE WINNER OF THE ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! 

ITADORI: GRAZIE GRAZIE GRAZIE!! OH MY GOD-

TODOU: Bro, you should be so proud of yourself today- your first career grand slam! 

ITADORI: [Incoherent shouting]

 

—

 

August 2013, Belgium

 

In typical Grade One fashion, Riko and Suguru are sat down in a press conference together in Spa on Thursday, because, like sharks to blood, they have seen the narrative forming here. 

Two talented, young drivers fighting for their first world championship: who wants it more? Who will get it? Will it be the underdog Riko or Suguru, who probably should have had a championship to his name by now? 

And Yuki is hosting, because of course she is. She grins sweetly from the side, and looks straight at Riko. “So, Riko, did you have a nice summer? Anything new in Keicho’s development over the break?” 

Riko twists her hair in her fingers: a nervous habit. She used to chew on the ends of it, but she got scolded by Misato for it last season, so now she ties it around her pinky, so hard that Suguru can see the skin there going white. 

“It was nice. Lots of time in Monaco, relaxing a bit,” she giggles, “I hung out with Gojo and Getou a bit, and um- Haibara from G2, so yeah, good. I dunno if I’m allowed to talk about the development, but we have pushed hard through the break and I’m excited to get back in the car.” 

“So, you feeling the pressure with being a championship leader?” Yuki’s eyes twinkle. Suguru knows from experience that she likes seeing people squirm. Being a journalist-slash-host is probably the best job for her. “You’re only three points clear, but this is still the first time you’re in a title fight.” 

“I’m excited to race Getou and I think Gojo can’t really be counted out yet either, he’s had some bad luck.” Riko laughs, and her eyes crinkle as she glances at Suguru briefly, just for reassurance. Under the table, their ankles brush. “Diamonds are built under pressure, don’t you know?” 

The journalists gathered all laugh. They love Riko. Everyone loves Riko. Yuki smiles too and turns to Suguru. “So, Suguru, Riko already said that you’d spent some time together over summer. How was the break? Most people get sick or their teammates, you know.” 

The gathered journalists laugh again, as if Yuki’s just made a funny joke. She hasn’t, but Suguru feels exposed and raw anyway: can they tell? Surely they can, subtlety isn’t their strong suit. Are they just hiding it in plain sight at this point? Gojo jokes about wanting to kiss him at least once a race weekend. The PR team had to warn him to tone it down when they venture back outside of Europe. Not so funny when you could be arrested for it, they say. 

He adjusts the microphone in front of his mouth. “Well, we live in the same apartment complex, so we end up seeing each other a lot, but me and Satoru are friends outside of racing and have been for a long time, so. Yeah, we end up going back to each other.” 

Yuki’s mouth twitches like he’s revealed something more than he intended. He probably has. “The dynamic between you on track has somewhat flipped this season, with him about twenty points behind you, and you in a close title fight with Riko. Were you expecting it?” 

“The challenge from Riko? No.” Suguru laughs as Riko kicks him under the table, indignant. “But I think Satoru and I are evenly matched. Like she said, he’s had worse luck than both of us, and it’s definitely early enough for him to pull back. He’s the world champion right now for a reason,” 

“Jujutsu Tech and Keicho are pretty evenly matched in development and pace this season, but I think a lot more people expected more of a battle between you two as teammates. Is that something you’re looking forward to?” 

Suguru grins. “Yeah, and I think he is, too. We’re the strongest driver pairing on the grid right now.” 

 

—

 

There’s no rain forecasted, but as they line up for the anthems, Riko frowns. “It’s not supposed to rain today, right?” 

“Nah,” Satoru says, standing on the other side of her. He shifts his weight from foot to foot: there’s an ankle issue he has at the moment that makes his boots fit weirdly with the support. 

“It smells like rain,” Riko says, “can you not smell it?” 

Wrinkling his nose, Satoru pushes his sunglasses up closer to his eyes. “Nah.” 

When Suguru sniffs the air, he can smell it. Petrichor. Just a hint of it. 

The anthems start, and Suguru lets his mind drift to strategy, like he always does during the proceedings that don’t really matter all that much to him. On his left, Toji smiles through it. Probably happy with his front row start. Suguru pays him no mind. 

 

—

 

BROADCASTERS’ TRANSCRIPT, Belgian Grand Prix 2013

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: So, current running is Riko out in front, followed closely by the Sengoku of Fushiguro, then the double threat of Getou and Gojo behind, and then Utahime rounds out the top five, who are separated, still, by less than ten seconds. This is just so brilliantly close.

ATSUYA KUSAKABE: Spa has always provided us with some of the best racing, and this is certainly no exception. I think I speak for us all when I say we’re on the edge of our seats watching, and it really could go any way today. 

YT: You got a favourite?

AK: [laughs] No, but I do think Toji winning here would be a great boost to the Sengoku guys in the garage, the upgrades really are making the car come alive- and- oh, that’s brilliant. Gutsy! 

YT: Jesus Christ, that’s a brave move from Fushiguro through Radillion if he can make it stick, round the outside of Riko-

AK: They’re wheel to wheel- oh this is brilliant stuff- and- oh no! Riko’s spinning out, she’s lost control-

YT: Fushiguro clipped her- and- [gasps]

[Long pause] 

AK: Massive collision there, Getou straight into the side of Riko, red flags are out. 

YT: Oh, that looks bad.

AK: Movement from Getou- but-

[There are sounds of a chair being moved and footsteps retreating]

YT: [muffled, from a distance] I’m going to be sick. 

 

—

 

September 2022, Italy 

 

Yuuji jumps forward, swinging his fist into the air as he shouts, wordless and boyish, out to the crowds as he steps onto the podium. The crowd can’t hear him, of course, suspended miles above them, but they can see him, the proud set of his shoulders, the grin and the gap in his front teeth. 

Gojo knows the feeling. It feels like cloud nine, sickly and sweet to the bone. When the anthems finish, Yuuji hits the base of the bottle against the podium, and it sprays upwards into the air, near enough hitting Gojo straight in his face. 

He watches as Megumi looks unsure, then sees Yuuji look back at him, and his face lights up and he sprays his champagne straight into Yuuji’s face. Gojo smiles, thinks idly that they’ll be fine. There’s still things unsaid, but they’re doing okay. 

When it’s all done and Gojo has emptied most of his own champagne into Yuuji’s mouth, and the confetti is stuck to their skin like an extra layer of armour, Gojo grabs Yuuji’s shoulders, pulling him into a half hug and ruffling at his hair, which is somehow still pink, even if it’s faded. “Well done!” 

The sun is bright in Monza, shining down on them as they hop up onto the podium together for pictures. As they step down, with Gojo squinting because he forgot his sunglasses, Yuuji shoulder-checks him. “I’m never losing to you again!” 

Gojo laughs because it’s ridiculous, and the notion of not beating Yuuji for the rest of the season is kind of insane. Maybe someone should put some money on it. He laughs at him, shaking his shoulders lightly. “Yeah? I’m looking forward to it.” 

Megumi comes from behind them, patting Gojo’s back. He looks tired, and they probably need to get back to Toto. 

Yuuji looks between Megumi and Gojo and his eyes flicker. Gojo gives him a way out, pushing him lightly and sending him back towards the stairs in front of them, waving wildly at the fans as he does. 

“You okay?” Gojo whispers to Megumi, brushing alongside him. 

“Yeah.” Megumi replies, honest. “Yeah, I’m good.”

 

—

 

OFFICIAL G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SIXTEEN - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	292
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU	Scuderia Keicho	240
3	Yuuji ITADORI	Scuderia Keicho	233
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	206
5	Nanami KENTO	Sengoku	195
6	Toge INUMAKI	Sengoku	146
7	Mei MEIJI	Haein	85
8	Mai ZENIN	Meiji	84
9	Nobara KUGISAKI	Meiji	69
10	Iori UTAHIME	Kyoto G1 Team	61

OFFICIAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SIXTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing	498
2	Scuderia Keicho	473
3	Sengoku	341
4	Meiji	153
5	Haein	97
6	Kyoto G1 Team	74

 

—

 

August 2013, Belgium

 

Suguru has a front row seat to it. 

He’s running in P3, listening to Tamomo’s voice over the radio, staring at the back of Toji’s car and trying to figure out where he can get closer, get past, get Riko. Toji finishing ahead of him isn’t too much of a problem, and it’s early in the race, and he can be patient. 

They begin the drive through Eau Rouge, and Suguru whistles into the space in his helmet as Toji pulls out to the side of Riko. It’s like a dance, overtaking, and they go side-by-side. 

He almost doesn’t see it, the move that Toji pulls. At the crest of the hill. They’re alongside each other when he swerves, clipping Riko’s car, and when she’s travelling at over two hundred and fifty miles per hour, the loss of control is inevitable. 

When Suguru crashed out in Suzuka, it did not happen in slow motion. He remembers it, of course he does, he remembers spinning out and the pain and the thrum of adrenaline dulling everything out. He remembers his engineer’s voice over the radio, remembers trying to speak and failing to make his mouth move. But he blinked and it was over. 

This happens in slow motion. 

Toji wobbles, but manages to somewhat stay on the line, but Riko isn’t so lucky. She spins out, careening towards the barriers at breakneck speed. Suguru watches sparks fly, one of her wheels completely disconnected, the car undriveable. It hits the barriers, and spins back into the track, right into his line. He barely has time to swear, attempting to swerve, but it’s too late and the gap is too small to avoid the collision, dead on. 

He feels the crunch. He braces for impact, and his own car spins, screaming all around him. The debris from the cars flies around them and he feels his own body shake in the third person. Tamomo hisses over the radio, “Getou, are you okay?” 

He hears himself reply, “I’m okay,” hoarse and heavy. His jaw doesn’t work. His face feels wet, but he can’t tell what from. It’s not raining. 

It all comes back to him, all at once. Driven by a motor, he fumbles at his own seatbelt, scrambling out of his car. It’s a wreck. There’s debris everywhere, and his ears are ringing, and his feet don’t feel like they’re actually attached to his body. 

“Riko-” 

The stewards are already there. The red car is split in half, chunks of it strewn across the track, lodged in the barrier. The backmarkers are driving past, slow, trying to avoid the massacre of it. 

Suguru is in it. A steward is grabbing at his shoulders, speaking to him in what Suguru thinks is English, but he can’t- 

“Riko, I- Riko is she okay?” 

The steward looks at him, confused, and he thinks he might be speaking Japanese but he really can’t find the words in English, or the ability to speak it, either. 

He tries to get past, and they grab him, but he’s almost six-foot-three and he trains seven days a week so they can’t really stop him. 

He wishes they did stop him. He wishes they found a way. 

He knows she’s dead the second he sees her. There’s no other way of describing it. Even if she’s not dead yet, she will be. He can’t see her face but the helmet is crumpled and the side of her body is-

The suit is red. But he can see it. The blood. It’s on the tarmac, too. He thinks back to the red on the white of the Haein, back in Monaco. This is different. This is brutal and slow and- 

“You’re bleeding,” a steward says, right in front of Suguru now, pushing him backwards. He stumbles, and he looks away from the mess of the crash, feeling the wet from his face taking root in his balaclava, dripping down his neck. He presses his fingers there, they come away red. The steward looks at him, “can you even feel it?” 

Suguru blinks. The steward, not unkindly, holds him still as a medic approaches.

“I need to-” the words die on his lips as the medic looks at him, and he looks back to where Riko is, throat seizing. “Is she gonna be okay?” 

It’s a pointless question. Their sport is dangerous. Suguru thinks of the little girl who was killed karting last year. He thinks of Sukuna, and he thinks of Kenjaku trying to pull him from the crumpled car in the barriers of Monaco. 

He knows. 

But he also hopes. 

The medic smiles at him, “come on, let’s get you sorted out.” 

They both know. 

It’s an awful feeling. 

 

—

 

September 2022, Italy

 

“Still not drinking?” Getou leans over the bar, loose and easy. The celebrations are big tonight: double podium for Jujutsu Tech, and a grand slam for Yuuji: pole, leading every lap, and winning. He’s giggling in the middle of the dance floor, with Nobara gesturing wildly about- something. She’s happy tonight, too, because she managed to finish fifth, her highest place yet. The car is nowhere near good enough to be that high up, but she’d managed it. Teams are looking at her now. Gojo’s sure that Yaga will be considering her as a teammate for Megumi next year. 

Gojo turns back to Getou and sighs, “nah, I don’t like the feeling of it that much,” 

Getou’s lips twitch. Gojo knows that look all too well. 

“What do you want to say?” 

“When I left you didn’t mind drinking. You used to drink everyone else under the table.” 

Well, it has been near-on eight years since we last talked , is what Gojo wants to say, bitter and sour. He doesn’t say that, though. “I’ll tell you if you tell me why Shoko’s still so mad at you.”  

An eye for an eye. 

“Did she never tell you what happened?” 

“She quit with you, you know that. And then when she came back we just- we didn’t talk about it.” 

Getou shrugs, like the whole thing doesn’t really bother him. “Sure.” 

Gojo sighs, “well, I was really bad in 2015. And like, at the end of the season Tsumiki found my home address, and- you know. My contract was up. I kept saying to Yaga I wanted to renew, to keep the door open, but I refused to actually put pen to paper, and I had this message drafted on my phone saying I wanted to quit. And then Tsumiki showed up and she basically-” 

“Tsumiki?” 

“Megs’ sister. Half-sister, maybe. I don’t think she’s even Toji’s kid.” 

“Ah,” Getou says, “that makes sense,” 

“But yeah. She was like, do you really wanna quit? And I remember sort of thinking about it and being like no, I can’t. I can’t, ‘cause Yaga would have to find another driver and I don’t exactly have any good career prospects. And she said oh you should quit, and I guess- I wanted to spite her, I dunno. But Megumi- she- they kind of needed me? I could’ve thrown money at them and made it go away, but Megs asked for karting advice, and she asked for help on schoolwork a couple of times and- you can’t be high in front of kids, really, can you?” He laughs, ruffling the back of his own hair. “So. It turns out I can’t really do stuff in moderation, you know me.” 

“Yeah, you can’t.” Suguru whispers, “it used to be one of my favourite things about you, growing up.” 

“That turned out well, huh?” 

“It did.” Getou says, and it sounds honest. Maybe a bit painful. “Well, Shoko- I was just unkind to her.” 

Just unkind? She doesn’t hold grudges, much less against her own friends, Gojo thinks. “Are you going to- like, make up with her?” 

Getou laughs, “for you? Yeah, I’ll apologise to her.” 

Something ugly stirs in Gojo’s stomach. “No- like. You two were close. Do you not want to- be friends again?” 

“I think that ship has sailed, Satoru.” Getou sighs, rolling his shoulders back. “It’s okay, I have you.” 

Gojo frowns. “You’ve not talked to her all this time too, though. I mean-” 

“You’re happy to let the past be in the past, though. You know she’ll want to talk about it, and I think it’s- I’m a different person now. We don’t need to explain everything that happened, we were all there.” 

Is he happy to let the past be the past? “You hurt her.” The you hurt me is unspoken. Getou knows he did. 

“We’re not friends,” Suguru says, “but if you want me to-” 

Gojo stumbles over his own words, “I don’t care if you’re- she’s fine with this. That’s not the point. Do you not miss her?” 

Getou frowns. The space between his eyebrows shrinks and Gojo watches it, mesmerised. “Of course I do, but it’s different. Her and you. You know that.” 

“No.” Because Shoko is the reason he’s still racing. She’s his sister, his closest friend, his anchor. She was the one who came to Monaco chewing the inside of her cheek and said yeah okay, I’ll come back for you. She’s put an extraordinary amount of trust in him, over the years, as has he in her. It’s never come up as a conversation topic, but if she had wanted to quit, he would have too. “I don’t, it was never- I love you both,” 

It slips out before Gojo can really think too hard about it. His cheeks burn even though he’s said it already. Getou exhales, quick and drawn in. “Well, for me, it’s different. I don’t want to drag up the past.” 

Gojo quells the stirring in his chest. 

“Okay.” 

He hopes Getou will talk to Shoko anyway. 

 

—

Notes:

tw: graphic description of a fatal crash, eating disorder talk, toji being toji, internalised homophobia,,,, yea

ferrari car reveal tomorrow! this is our year!

sorry 4 this chapter, but its been coming a while . have fun!

the track in this chapter is Monza, no link bc im lazy and im fairly sure its already linked in another chapter somewhere!! :)

Chapter 17: xvii - multi 21

Summary:

An internal code used by certain teams temporarily - translating to an order to maintain position. Also referred to by the name of multi map 21.

Notes:

explodes. this chapter is 12k. somehow. warnings in end notes but a tw for a very brief mention of suicidal ideation, blink and u miss it. right at the end of the chapter

play jigsaw falling into place by radiohead from november 2013, brazil. good luck!

September 2013, Italy

 

Time stops for no-one, so whilst Riko is in a coma in a hospital bed somewhere, Suguru is in Italy. Monza, to be precise. 

From the second his feet hit the tarmac at the track, he knows this is going to be one of the hardest weekends of his life. Worse than Japan back in 2010. Because in 2010, he’d been a factor, sure, but back there- 

It was his fault. There’s an investigation. His on-board camera was corrupted, and the footage is unwatchable, which looks really, really bad. The stitches above his eyebrow from where the debris had penetrated the very thin gap in his visor sting slightly. He was concussed, and his back hurts like a bitch, but he’s been cleared to race. So he’ll race. 

Riko would want you to , Yuki had told him whilst he stared at the ceiling in the hotel room, you know she’d want you to . 

She would. Satoru says the same thing, cramped in Suguru’s driving room whilst he picks at his knuckles. He has no energy to stop him from doing it. 

He’s already seen the footage. Over and over, on replay, on loop. It’s basically burned into his retinas, the spin, the collision. Suguru is lucky he didn’t get hurt much, much worse. Riko’s car flipped, too, and they’re saying that she’s got a serious spinal injury. Even if she survives, she’ll never walk again, let alone drive. 

He’s also seen the footage of him, out the car, pushing the stewards away, bleeding, panicked. He’s seen the comments, assuming he’s traumatised, assuming how he feels, assuming a connection between them. Saying they were together in secret or bastardising the way he cared for her. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Satoru said, on the plane over, “they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.” 

Which- they don’t. Of course they don’t. Half the internet thought he was in love with Yuki, for fuck’s sake. But the conviction with which they believe themselves- it’s unnerving. 

Yuki was supposed to commentate this weekend, but she’s not here, and everyone’s pissed about it, but Suguru gets it. Really. He has a text from her sitting on his phone, sorry I can’t be there but it’s going to be horrible , in reply to yeah the doctors don’t think she’ll make it through the week, brain bleed. Riko’s parents had called him from the hospital in France, thanked him for looking after her, told him they don’t blame him. He’d sat alone for a long time afterwards, fingers loose around his phone and chewing the inside of his mouth to try and wake himself up. 

Italy is a unique kind of torture. At least three journalists ask him if he’s feeling better after his crash, with the stitches still in his face - he is, but he really isn’t - and in the pressers, someone asks Satoru how Riko is, if there’s any news. Suguru watches, hollow, as Satoru breathes in, and out, and then takes his sunglasses off to set his gaze on the reporter. 

“My friend- a good friend is in hospital, fighting for her life, and you want quotes from me for clicks? You should be ashamed of yourself. Her family wants privacy,” 

All of which is true. The PR team don’t dare to scold either of them on their clipped responses on Thursday, not even when Satoru is awful to a couple of reporters who are just trying to do their jobs. He understands the need to let the public - or at least the fans - know what’s going on with Riko, but at the same time, he wants them all to shut up and leave them alone. 

It feels personal, the way they’re talking about it. She was your friend, did you see the way she looked at you, like you hung the stars? Why did you crash into her? Did you know she pulled 143G? 

Which- 143G. Suguru pulled about fifty when he crashed in Suzuka, and he remembers how much that hurt. He doesn’t want to imagine it. 

He doesn’t imagine it. Because he doesn’t have to. He saw it himself, and reporters want to know what he saw, even if they’re banned from asking him about it. He knows that they’re banned because Satoru had flanked him, practically, round the press pen, and told him afterwards yeah they’re not asking about it because the higher-ups don’t wanna draw attention to how dangerous it is . 

Suguru kind of thinks that the thrill of the sport is that it's dangerous, but this time it's blown up in their faces. Any of them could die, any time. Suguru is lucky he didn’t. So is Yuki, after her crash with Toji in 2011. He remembers seeing the tyre marks just behind the cockpit, afterward. Thinking, oh that was close . Not really grasping that there was something beyond close. 

There is something beyond close, he knows now. They make them circle around her helmet. One of the ones that isn’t crumpled, fucked up, even though it carries the same colours and patterns. A moment of silence, a moment of prayer. Satoru stands to his left, next to him like a rock, more solid than he’s ever been. They stand close enough to hide their hands between their bodies. Satoru takes his fingers and squeezes as they stare at the helmet, on the little podium in the middle of the tarmac.  

When he tilts his head down, he can see their hands linked in his peripheral vision. Satoru’s hands are bigger than his. His skin is paler. Their suits are opposites, too. Suguru wonders how long they’ve been different. 

It might have been a while. It might have been forever. Satoru turns his head to him, still with his head titled down: “you okay?” 

Suguru swallows, nodding as he looks at the floor. 

Haibara is beside him, eyes wide as he rocks on his heels: the reserve driver fulfilling his role. He’s been saying he feels ready to every reporter, saying he can handle it, that he will drive for Riko. 

But he’s still soft around the edges, like she was. 

 

—

 

“Well, it’s a joke,” 

Suguru freezes, stalling in the corridor. There’s no one else about: that’s why he’s here, trying to avoid the cameras after a poor qualifying session that saw his teammate finish on pole, whilst he struggled for fourth. The team seems to have let him off this weekend, but it’s still hard to put everything aside and race. And they’ve not really even got to the race, yet. 

“No, no, they’ve got all that moment of silence bullshit,” Toji’s voice comes again, obviously on the phone to someone. He’s speaking English, which means that Suguru can understand him. Unfortunately. 

“No, look. The kid’s cameras were fucked with, no one has the right angle of it to do anything, don’t be paranoid,” 

His voice catches in his throat. He should say something. Anything. He should do something other than just standing, frozen. 

“Gojo’s? No, his teammate’s. Gojo was blind round that corner, he was too far back, they have the footage, and they can’t see– no. Look, my end of the bargain’s been held up, whether she dies or not. Can you tell them to send the money?” 

Money? What money? 

“Well it’s a fixed bet, you- no. Okay, stop, he won’t say anything, even if he saw it, he was concussed too, he can’t remember much, and they wouldn’t believe him anyway,” 

He feels sick. He hasn’t even eaten anything today, and he feels sick. 

“Look-” Toji switches to French, speaking something rapid fire, then, “you got that? Another language easier for you?” 

His voice starts to fade away as he starts to walk out of the corridor. His footsteps fade with him. Suguru stands, alone in the corridor, unable to think. 

Who should he tell? Would anyone believe him? He barely remembers what he saw, in the moments before the collision. Toji’s right: he was concussed, there’s holes in his memory, and he didn’t know if Toji had swerved or lost control, like he claimed to the press and in the drivers’ debrief, according to Satoru, who had been there whilst Suguru was getting stitches. 

There was data saying his brakes had failed, before the restart, but now-

He can’t think about it. He can’t. 

He taps the sides of his face, drags them down his cheeks and takes a deep breath. He’ll deal with it later. 

 

—

 

2013 ITALIAN GP ROUNDUP: GOJO RETURNS TO WINNING WAYS, HAIBARA SCORES POINTS ON DEBUT / G1 News 

Written by David Cook, September 8th 2013

 

Satoru Gojo completed a dominant grand slam in Italy for his home crowd, in his third win of the season, impressing to take home the win on Sunday. “I want to dedicate it to Riko, and her recovery,” he said, post-race, “a win is always good, but she’s still in hospital and I know she would’ve given me hell this weekend.” 

 His win over his teammate, Suguru Getou, who drove impressively for second place, means that the gap between them has shrunk to a single point. “I recovered well, and gained two places, and I don’t think it’s a secret that I’m not in the best shape. I’ll fight until the end of the season, for the championship.” 

Last week’s winner, Iori Utahime, came home for third. “A good result for the team. There’s still a cloud hanging over us, but we’re doing our best.” 

Yu Haibara also impressed on his debut for Scuderia Keicho, placing sixth on his G1 debut. “Yeah, I’m happy. Tired. But I have a lot of work to do, and I want to continue the fight that Riko started, and I want her to be proud of me.” 

 

STANDINGS AFTER R12, G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	203
2	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	202
3	Amanai RIKO	Scuderia Keicho	188
4	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	182

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

Russia is cold . It always is, every year, and most of the time it’s wet, too. Last year, it rained, but only over half the track, which resulted in half the field spinning out on slicks and the other half being slow on the inters. 

Gojo has a coat on that ends at his knees as they arrive on the track on Thursday, and dips the bottom half of his face in the collar, zipped up all the way to the top. Jeans, trainers. He wonders if he could get away with fluffy boots.

The crowd cheers at the entrance, and Gojo acquiesces, fishing a pen out deep from one of the pockets. He has to scribble on a random person’s sign to get it working again. Megumi appears at his side, sharpie in hand, a moment later. Following his lead. 

Megumi’s wearing a team coat, too, and a beanie covers his hair. His cheeks are flushed from the sudden transition to the cold from the warmth of the car. As Gojo’s ruffling the hair of a kid sat on his dad’s shoulders, he hears another car pull up, and the gathered crowd starts to cheer. 

He sees Yuuji signing things quickly, head ducked down, a shy smile on his face as he tries to say hello. He’s not got a hat on, the pink on his ears and his cheeks almost matching his hair. Getou is right behind his drivers, speaking Italian down his phone, but far enough away that he can’t decipher what he’s saying.  

“Oh, Toto’s boots are cute,” he hears Yuuji say, pointing down to Megumi’s feet. Toto is a husky, and probably doesn’t need them, but Megumi had wanted to protect his paws. He flushes at the attention from Yuuji. 

“Thanks,” 

Getou stops talking on the phone, sighing deeply and raising his eyebrows, staring at the screen. He switches to English, a hand lingering on Yuuji’s shoulder as he speaks to him, “come on, we’re late,” 

As he passes, his hand comes to the back of Gojo’s neck, squeezing. “I’ll see you later,” 

Gojo turns to him, smiles, but he’s already walking away. 

If his stomach turns because of it, he keeps that to himself. 

 

—

 

“Coming into this race,” a reporter says, flicking through his notes as Gojo watches, “there are only seven points between the two Keicho drivers. For now, Yuuta leads, but Yuuji has had back-to-back wins in Zandvoort and Monza. Who do you think will create the most competition for you in the last races of the season?” 

Gojo hates being asked to take sides in inter-team conflicts. Because his words get twisted by fans, as if he doesn’t have inside access to a ton more data and knowledge than any of them. But whatever, at this point. 

“Well, Yuuji’s been faster, the last few races. He’s got an incredible amount of momentum off the last couple of wins, and he’s incredibly hungry. I think at this point, it would probably be him that I’m more worried about,” he presses his lips together, “but I’m not particularly worried about either of them. To bridge the gap we’ve built, they would have to win a huge majority of the races,” 

“So, do you think Yuuji might be capable of that? More so than Yuuta?” 

“You got your quote the first time, don’t worry,” Gojo finds himself laughing, “but yes, I suppose. But at the majority of the tracks we have left, our car is going to be strong. Theirs, too, but I have the experience to keep the two younger drivers at bay.” 

He knows it’ll be misquoted for clicks, but he’s been in the game long enough that he can’t bring himself to care. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE - TEAM PRINCIPALS - Suguru GETOU (Scuderia Keicho), Masamichi YAGA (Jujutsu Technical Racing)

 

Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport) : Getou, earlier today, Gojo said he was more worried about the threat from Itadori over Okkotsu, citing his recent pace and wins in the last two grand prix. Previously you’ve favoured Okkotsu, given his lead, but is that changing?

SUGURU GETOU: At Keicho we have two drivers of similar abilities. Yuuji has managed to pull back in a pretty incredible way these past two races, and is determined to carry on that momentum. Gojo has a lot of experience and he can make judgements based on what he sees, but ultimately he is not privy to the internal mechanics of the team, nor do his opinions make any bearing on our decisions. 

 

—

 

October 2013, Japan

 

Satoru beats him again in Singapore, then in Korea. He stands on the second place podium both times, dips his head and tucks his hands behind his back. Humble. 

Each time, there’s a party, and each time, Satoru blacks out, high off his face on coke or something else. In Korea, he throws up on the floor outside Suguru’s hotel room, and then has no recollection of it the next morning, when he wakes up with his hair splayed in a million different directions after Suguru stayed up to make sure he was still breathing.

He’s not really sure how everyone’s going out partying whilst Riko’s lying in a hospital bed, but. 

In Belgium, he and Riko were twenty points clear of the rest of the field, with no signs of slowing down or letting anybody close it. Now, after Gojo’s win in Korea, he leads Suguru by thirteen points. The worst part is that there’s no moment where it feels like anything snaps, nothing he’s doing wrong. He’s doing the same as always: head down, focus, leave everything to the side off the track. 

Gojo’s just better. Which at Singapore and Korea isn’t a surprise: he’s always liked the thrill of a street circuit way more than Suguru does. He’s generally a better driver on them too. Suguru won’t ignore that. His performance team has long been saying that he might experience a dip in points around these few races - Satoru’s just too good. 

Put him between narrow walls and in tight corners and he’s unstoppable. It’s just a fact. 

The journalists aren’t helping. This is the third race in a row that you’re second to your teammate. Your quali performance is dropping. You had a lead coming into summer break, what happened? 

They don’t ask about Riko. Suguru doesn’t know if he wants them to ask or not. 

Riko’s mom calls him on Wednesday, tells him they’re sorry, but they have to let her go. They’re in Japan and she’s in a specialist hospital in the UK. There’s no way of going to say goodbye, this close to a race. 

Suguru rationalises that she wouldn’t necessarily know any better, anyway. The last time they talked was just before the anthems. They hadn’t even wished each other luck, as their hands found each other to pat shoulders before they parted ways. Suguru wonders if, if he had wished her luck, this would have still happened. 

Satoru had found him, wished him luck, grasping at his waist for a fleeting second. Superstition is a powerful placebo, but– he wonders. If it kept him safe. If he could have kept Riko safe, somehow. 

He still doesn’t really know what to do about what he heard Toji saying. He definitely hasn’t mentioned it to Riko’s parents. They have enough on their plate. 

A drivers’ meeting is called before media day starts. Reasons undisclosed to the press. Twenty drivers are corralled into a room and told: your peer is dead. The news is not going to break until after the weekend, because we don’t want to marr this race, and we don’t want to put you in the firing line for the press. 

Beside him, Satoru’s jaw works. He already knew, of course, was alongside Suguru in the motorhome when her parents called him. Haibara pulls one of his feet up onto the chair, hugging his knee, Nanami rubs at his shoulder with his thumb. 

Suguru doesn’t know if they already knew or not. Haibara and Riko were close. 

For most of the room, it will be the first time they learn of it. At the end of the row, Toji stretches, yawning loudly. He looks back to where they’re sitting, looking bored. 

Suguru watches as Satoru stands, abrupt, the chair sliding loud in the silence of the room, walking out and slamming the door. The whole room turns to Suguru, as if he’s going to offer an explanation for his behaviour. “Sorry, I’ll tell him the rest,” 

“No,” the man leading the meeting says, “I was going to ask if you wanted to go after him, actually. We know you were close.” 

The pity makes his stomach churn. He stands, with one last glance at Toji, who looks like he’s smirking, and nods a thanks before he leaves. 

 

—

 

“Hey, I- Satoru, can I tell you something? I heard-” 

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

Yuuji’s shuffling in his seat all through the briefing about the weather. There’s almost a one hundred percent chance of rain in qualifying, and a pretty large chance that the rain will stay during the race on Sunday. Safety talks and tyre decisions and driver safety dominate most of it. 

Yuuji doesn’t take a lot of things seriously, but he usually lasers in, when it comes to racing. In very driver briefing, he’s serious, listening, offering suggestions about the kerbs and the run-off areas and penalties. Gojo even watched him reprimand Nobara for giggling, once. 

So him not being able to sit still is- he seems distracted. Even Megumi glances at him and frowns, a hand coming down to pat Toto’s head. He looks at Gojo, eyes blinking, and then looks away, focussing on the matter at hand. Nobara, to Yuuji’s side, taps him, saying something in Japanese. Yuuji shakes his head, and Nobara sighs, leaning back in her chair, arms folded across her chest. 

None of them want to call off the race (of course) so they all get up. Yuuji makes a beeline for Gojo, hand coming to his arm and tugging. He speaks in clunky Japanese, “can we talk?” 

“Sure,” 

“I mean- like.” He sighs, “by yourself,” 

Gojo shrugs again, “sure, you okay?” 

Yuuji tugs Gojo out of the room, beginning to walk down the corridor. He checks over his shoulder, and then speaks quietly, in Japanese, “um. Are you and Getou together?” 

Gojo lets his mouth open, and then closes it, “your Japanese is shit. Why aren’t we speaking English?” 

“Everyone understands English!” Yuuji protests, but he does switch languages regardless. “I didn’t want anyone to overhear,” 

“We could just speak quietly.” 

“You’re avoiding the question,” Yuuji huffs, “just- are you?” 

That’s a really fucking good question, Gojo thinks, running a hand over his face. “No, not really.” 

“Not really?” Yuuji sounds incredulous, “what does that mean?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, and Yuuji grimaces. “Okay, point taken. I just- um, you two are-” 

“Why are you asking, anyway?” 

Yuuji shuffles from foot to foot, looking to the floor. “I was just- is it working?” 

Two weeks ago, maybe a week ago, Gojo would’ve said yes. Tentatively, maybe, but still a yes. After talking about Shoko, now he’s not so sure. “Is this about Megumi?” 

Yuuji grimaces. “Maybe? I dunno. It’s- it’s just weird right now.” 

A door behind them creaks and Megumi himself stands there, hand on the arch and Toto panting beside him. “Um. Yaga wants us, Gojo.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Yuuji tugs once at his arm, switching to Italian. It’s clunky and half-rushed: he might drive for Keicho, but he’s still learning the language. “Are you friends?” 

It’s just so Megumi won’t understand them. 

“Yeah,” he replies, and though it’s in Italian, he’s sure even Megumi knows si.  

Still, Yuuji nods, looking up at him. “Okay.” 

 

—

 

Practices one and two are in the dry, at least. It’s probably the only dry track time they’ll get all weekend, which means that it’ll be simultaneously completely useless for finding grip, and the fastest they’ll be able to push all weekend, finding the limits of the car. 

Shoko rolls her shoulders back, squinting at the data before FP2. “This is useful in general, but performance in the wet is going to be so different. Tomorrow’s practice is going to be way more important, if the forecast is right,” 

Gojo shrugs, “we knew that already, didn’t we?” 

“Still frustrating, already knowing that it won’t really be useful to us in quali.” 

“Maybe in the race though.” 

Shoko tilts her head to the side, running her tongue along her top teeth. “How did it feel out there? Still good?” 

“You know I don’t like this track, but it felt normal enough.” 

He stares at Shoko for a moment longer. 

“What?” 

“Would you be friends with Suguru again? If he asked?” He asks it in Japanese. Most of the mechanics around them don’t speak it, he thinks. Hopes. 

Shoko frowns. “We’re doing this now?”

“Well, it’s a yes or no question,” Gojo huffs, “you don’t have to-” 

“Yes.” She says, “yeah, I would. He- you know. He was a dick, but he’s still-” she inhales, a sharp thing that cuts through him, “you’re still my two best friends.” 

Gojo thinks back to the afterparty. Yaga shouts from somewhere in the distance that he should be back in the car in five. He looks at Shoko again. 

“Sorry,” 

“Not your fault,” she murmurs. “Go find your helmet.”

A team member hands it to him. He smiles, lowering himself into the cockpit after he places it on the car’s nose. 

Getou’s in the Keicho garage right now. He doesn’t seem to care about making amends that much. And for the first time in a long time, Gojo begins to feel like he’s spinning, bracing himself in the moments before the car hits the barrier. 

Different drivers do different things when they spin out. When Getou crashed with Toji in Japan, he held his hands on the wheel. He fucked up his wrist: his whole arm doing that. Gojo’s always been taught: get your hands off the wheel if you want to keep your hands in tact. 

Getou used to say he hated that part of crashing more than anything else: the lack of control. It’s why he braced with his hands on the wheel. Gojo’s been spinning out a long time, hands tucked into his body, trusting that he will hit the wall eventually and it’ll be over. But the wall hasn’t come yet, and he’s not sure if it will, if he doesn’t steer into it himself. 

He takes three deep breaths. “Radio check?” 

Shoko’s voice comes back to him, “everything working okay.” 

He puts his hands on the wheel. He drives out onto the track. 

 

—

 

October 2013, Japan

 

Yuki finds him, in the end. 

“You’re on pole today, huh?” 

Suguru looks up from between his knees. Despite eating a grand total of a banana, a boiled chicken breast and two hundred grams of rice over the last forty-eight hours, he still feels like he’s going to throw up. “Yeah.” 

“You look like you’re ill,” Yuki says, still smiling as she kneels down beside him. “You okay?” 

“I need to win this weekend.” Suguru finds himself saying. It’s the only thing that rings true. He needs to beat Satoru, for the championship fight, he needs to stand on that top step for Riko. A much more animalistic part of him wants to stand above Toji, two years on, smiling with all his teeth sharp in his mouth, threatening to bite. You tried to kill me, but I’m still better than you. 

The problem is that driving here is still hard. He feels, against his control, his hands tense through the corner that he spun off at every time. He’s gotten better at swallowing it down, like the bile in his throat, but still. The hectic thrum of the garage is proving to be too much. 

“I suppose.” Yuki says. “Why do you need to win?” 

“Satoru’s beating me in the points.” He tilts his head slightly. His eyes burn with the sunlight. “Are you meant to be here?” 

Yuki smiles, waving an all-access pass for Keicho. “I’m not working. Just here with the team. Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“It doesn’t really matter,” Suguru says, pushing himself up so his back is flat against the building he’s leaning against. “I just have to go out there and win today.” 

Something crosses Yuki’s features, and she sighs. “Even with Riko? I mean, it’s tough-” 

“I can’t-” Suguru’s voice betrays him, just slightly, wobbling before he gets it back under control. He can’t think about it. “Not on a race day.” 

He can feel his hair, long down his back. He hasn’t cut it in a while. He probably needs to. Satoru still braids it for him, most of the time, or Shoko, if she has time. He needs to learn how to braid it himself. He will, when he has time. 

“Right.” Yuki says. “Well, I bought you a protein bar. The ones you liked from Keicho, the discontinued flavour.” 

She holds out the bar, and all at once, Suguru finds his chest welling. “Can I tell you something?” 

“Sure, but can you eat the bar?” 

Suguru takes it, unwraps it. The texture, when he bites in, doesn’t make his throat work around a gag reflex, so. Small victories. “I heard Toji talking about the crash with Riko. In a way that made it seem like it was intentional.” 

Yuki licks her lips and her eyebrows raise halfway up her forehead. “You understand that that’s-” 

“I’ve already told Satoru. I convinced him to wait until after the race, but- yeah, of course I know it’s a big accusation.” 

“Can you prove he said what he said? Did you record it?” She presses, leaning forward. Suguru leans back, just slightly. 

“No- I-” 

“Suguru. You do realise it’ll be your word versus his, right?” 

It dawns on him, then. Fully. “Yeah,” 

Yuki’s face crumples. “I thought it looked intentional.” For the second time in their time knowing each other, Yuki is crying in front of him. It’s over as quick as it begins, though, her wiping furiously at her eyes and looking to the sky. “Sorry. It’s still raw, I think.” 

Suguru looks at her. Something ugly in his chest stirs, says imagine how it feels for me, then. You barely knew her. He doesn’t say that, though. He just looks at her, as she stands and brushes dust from her hips. 

“Sorry. I probably need to go back to the garage, they’ll be looking for me.” She says, smile on her face. “I’ll see you later, when you win, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Something softens in her. Suguru watches it melt. 

“For her.” 

 

—

 

He does it. 

By the skin of his teeth, really. Satoru’s breathing down his neck the entire first stint, and then Utahime takes his place for the back half, and the gap between them is barely a second at the chequered flag. But he kept his delta negative, kept his pace up, and despite having a good on-track battle, he crosses the line first. 

It’s his first win since Bahrain, and he feels dizzy with it as he collapses into parc ferme, feet just slightly above ground as he runs to the team’s open arms. Behind him, Satoru jumps in, and Suguru can hear his shouting: you did it, you did it, he can hear Yaga and Shoko laughing in disbelief with him. He’s finished in second place a lot this season: remarkable consistency, the commentators say, but nothing exceptional. Not like Gojo. 

It’s sweetened by Toji only finishing fifth, and Haibara beating him for fourth. From the top step of the podium, he breathes, looking down on the crowd below. Yuki’s there. 

When he squints, he can see her smile, but also the tear tracks on her face. He looks away from her, turning to Utahime, who isn’t crying, but has her head lowered as they listen to the Japanese national anthem, eyes glazed over. He looks away from her, too, and ends up making eye contact with Satoru, who is looking at him. 

His smile is something violent. All his teeth, sharp, on show, blue eyes dazzling in the sun. His cheeks are still flushed, the sweat still drying on his skin. 

Something inside Suguru wells up. The anthems end, and with shaking hands that aren’t his own, he picks up the champagne, shaking it. 

Satoru grins, spraying his bottle straight into his face, and Suguru chokes on the liquid as Utahime tips some down his back. The thing inside Suguru that was welling up before bubbles to the surface, then bursts. 

A sob wracks up his chest, unbidden and without his permission. It feels ugly and he almost chokes on the champagne. One win, and he’s back in contention for a world title. Only three points behind Satoru, if his maths is correct. 

He sobs again, and reaches up instinctively to pull his winner’s cap down and cover his mouth. Satoru comes up, in front of him, “Suguru,” 

He’s won. He’s back in contention. He’s put every part of himself aside to do it. Every emotion, every meal he forced himself through, every count of five to restrain himself, everything has all added up. It forces itself up his throat, and he’s trying to hold it in, palms pressed to his lips and his eyes, but he can’t hold it anymore. 

Satoru’s hands come to his shoulders, grounding. He’s positioning his body between Suguru and the crowd below, hiding his face from them. Suguru ducks his head, blinking tears from his eyes and trying to breathe, but finding no air. Satoru’s hands squeeze harder into his shoulders. “You’re crying.” 

Suguru shakes his head, desperately trying to deny it, but coming up empty. 

He looks up at Satoru’s concerned face, remembers peeling him off the floor in Singapore, in Korea, remembers his violent highs at the celebrations and feels sour. Why does he get to celebrate and Suguru is stuck in a weird limbo of not being able to feel anything?

He never wants to win a race again, if it feels like this. If it feels like this to fight for a championship, he wants to do that even less. 

He just wants to talk to his dad. He’d get down on his knees, on the podium, and touch his head to the ground and beg, just for one more conversation. 

He doesn’t beg, though. He just cries. In Satoru’s hands, he cries.

 

—

 

BREAKING: AMANAI RIKO DIES FOLLOWING CRASH AT BELGIAN GRAND PRIX

 

The Loss of A Star: Twenty-year-old killed in G1 Crash

 

INQUEST LAUNCHED INTO RIKO’S BELGIAN GP CRASH, FOLLOWING HER DEATH

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

Megumi is vibrating at a frequency only visible from space, and to Gojo. His eyes flicker from the data to the rain outside the garage, and Toto pants at his side. To the untrained eye, it’s nothing, but to Gojo- 

He doesn’t worry a lot, about him, when it comes to driving. He’s got that part of his life- his career- sorted, really. He’s talented, he’s already in a top team, and he’s been having a phenomenal rookie season. One of the best ever, with multiple podiums. 

When it comes to everything else, he finds himself caught up in it a bit. He knows he doesn’t set the best example. He can’t, really: he’s not built for it, but still. 

Shoko nudges him, “you worried?” 

Because she can read his mind at all times. “Nah, he’ll be okay,” 

“Well, have you told him where the grip is?” 

Gojo nods. They’d had a whole conversation about it, sodden and trying to dry off in Gojo’s driver room, with Megumi listening intently and taking notes. 

“You know what the plan is, this track is only gonna get worse,” Shoko says, gritting her teeth, “I hate the rain.” 

 

—

 

Gojo feels like he’s been chewed up and spit out, hair clinging to his forehead and nomex sticking to his skin. He likes the rain, really. The challenge of it, mostly, the pressure of slipping up and messing up a whole lap. He thrives under it. 

But when the adrenaline crashes it leaves him feeling squeezed dry, open and empty. He looks around parc ferme, finds Haibara standing with a microphone. He knows he should go over. He doesn’t want to, especially. He doesn’t want to say the same thing on repeat, the same tired thank yous and observations about conditions or tyre wear. He’s said it all before, it feels like. Week in, week out, since he was in karts and the adults stopped looking at him like a kid and more like a champion in waiting. Then he became a champion, an actual champion, and everyone stopped looking at him like a person altogether. 

Everyone except Shoko and Yaga, really. 

At the barriers, Getou is clasping his hand in Yuuta’s, and when he turns, Nanami pulls up into the last spot: the P3. Against his own will, Gojo goes to Getou, nodding and asking, quick, in Japanese, “what happened to Yuuji?” 

“P4.” Getou responds, “he just struggled in the rain, ran wide into turn two.” 

Gojo turns and goes, mostly because there are cameras everywhere, and also because he doesn’t want to talk to him right now. 

You’re still my two best friends.

He gulps down some more water, takes a deep breath, reminds himself he loves this, and goes to talk to Haibara. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR POST-QUALIFICATION INTERVIEW - YUUJI ITADORI (Scuderia Keicho)

 

Q: Qualifying in the wet, super difficult conditions. Did you struggle out there? 

YUUJI ITADORI: Uh, yeah. I ran super wide, almost off in turn two, and then I had a moment in turn five. Not a great lap, to be honest. 

Q: You think you should have been higher up today?

YI: Yeah, I mean– yeah. But it was always gonna be tough fighting for pole with Gojo, who is phenomenal in the rain, so. I have a lot to talk to the team about and I’ll be fighting for a podium tomorrow.

Q: Fighting words. So you think you have the pace to make up places tomorrow?

YI: Of course. Yuuta’s lap put him like a tenth behind Gojo, I’m in the same car, y’know. Maths. 

Q: This is the first race in a while where you haven’t out-qualified your teammate. Are you feeling anxious about that?

YI: No. No time to feel anxious. I just wanna get back in the car again and race, prove that I can win from anywhere.

 

—

 

“I saw what you said in the pressers,” Getou hums, tucking his legs under himself in the hotel room. 

“Elaborate. I’ve been saying a lot to the press,” Gojo replies, craning his neck from where it’s resting on Getou’s thigh. 

“About Yuuji. Worrying more about him than Yuuta,” Getou’s hand strokes through Gojo’s hair, and Gojo allows himself to lean into it. It’s a quick hit of comfort, really, half an hour to spend with each other before people come looking. “You think he wants it more?” 

“Yeah,” Gojo hums. “I think he does.” 

Getou’s hand stalls. “Do you want it as bad as him?”

Gojo doesn’t move, doesn’t look up at him. He wants to retire. He wants to be done forever. He never wants to let go of this sport: he doesn’t know who he is without it.

“Yeah. I want to be the greatest of all time. End the debate, you know?” 

Getou laughs above him, “so you’re retiring.” 

“I might carry on, if I want to.” Gojo hums, sitting up, “not like I’m supposed to talk to you about it, anyway.” 

“You know it’s all separate. The racing and us. It’s not like either of us are taking it back to our teams.” 

Something flares up in Gojo’s chest that he can’t really ignore anymore. Because they’re not separate. They’ve never been separate. And they can’t ever really ever be. 

He met Suguru when they were seven, for god’s sake, on a karting track. They were racing against each other from the start. Their first conversation, pretty much, was Gojo talking about how to take the apex of a corner because he didn’t know how to talk about anything else. 

“You really think that?” 

“We’re different, on and off-track,” Getou says, which isn’t quite an answer.

“I’m not.” He picks at a scab on his knuckle, one he opened today when he caught the edge of his hand on the cockpit getting in. Getou’s hand comes to push it away, tanned against his pale skin. Their hands look so different side-by-side, and Gojo wonders why he’s never noticed it before. “Do you really think that?” 

He’s repeating himself. He’s going round in circles. The only thing he’s ever known how to do is go in circles, over and over, and he wants to stop, but he doesn’t know how. The car is still spinning. He’s got his hands off the wheel. 

Getou looks at him, eyebrows twitching as he tries to consolidate the ideas of Gojo he has in his head. It hurts, slightly, a dull ache thudding against the walls of his head. How long have they known each other? How long has Getou been separating them, the racing driver and the boy? 

He separates them himself, but only in theory. In practice, he’s taken everything onto the track with him, channelled all his anger, his happiness, his excitement into his driving. The identities are different, sure. He’s changed himself a lot to fit the press’ idea of what he is and isn’t, he’s cut out most of his personal life and he doesn’t really talk to many people outside of the sport. 

But he always thought that if anyone could consolidate the two, make sense of them, it would be Getou. It’s not, apparently. 

“Do you think that about Shoko, too?” 

Getou winces, “she’s not a driver,” 

“No, but she’s a high performance engineer, who was on the road more than both of us,” 

“What’s your point?” 

Gojo sighs. “Nothing.” Because he’s going round in circles. “I’m gonna go back to my room.” 

Getou lets him go. In the elevator to his floor, Gojo feels like he’s freefalling. 

 

—

 

November 2013, America

 

It begins to fall apart, and Suguru feels powerless to stop it, watching himself spin out and hit the wall of his own life in slow motion. But then he goes straight through the wall and keeps spinning. 

In India, he comes third, behind Utahime and Satoru in first and second. In Abu Dhabi, Satoru wins, and Suguru only gets fourth. There are no answers for why, he repeats to reporters, there’s no issues with the car. 

After the disastrous fourth place, his trainer says, “so, you’ve been gaining weight. Have you been eating to the meal plan?” 

Suguru hasn’t. He’s barely been eating at all. He feels hungry all the time, his stomach crawling and bending in on itself at all times. 

“Yes,” 

“Okay, we’ll have to adjust it again. You’ve put on an extra four kilos since Japan, and that’s really not ideal. You’re losing lap time, especially in quali.” 

Suguru’s aware of the weight gain, but he’s not especially in control of it. Those extra kilos are making him lose time on Satoru, who was already lighter without having to try much, or diet at all, really. So now here they are. 

Land of the Free! 

The main story this weekend is that Satoru could secure his second world championship this weekend if he wins, and Suguru finishes behind him by enough of a margin. There are people talking about his lack of performance recently and saying it’s entirely possible that the championship be formally decided before the last race, Interlagos. 

Up until fairly recently, it's been common for championships to be concluded before the last race, but the last few seasons have been close. Mostly thanks to him. He’s lost out every time. And he’s starting to get really sick of losing. 

There’s also the investigation into Toji, which is supposed to conclude this weekend. Formally, there’s nothing going on. One of the big higher-ups invested a ton in his career, apparently. Doesn’t want to see it go to waste. 

When they found out they weren’t going to suspend him from racing, Satoru had very nearly put a hole in the hotel wall. Suguru had sat and stared at the dent in the paint for a while whilst he paced, burning holes in the carpet. 

He goes to find Shoko in the morning. They’re staying in a hotel, this weekend, rather than the motorhomes, which is a welcome break from breaking his back in the tiny beds, but a good half-hour transfer, so they have to be up earlier. Silver linings and all that. 

Shoko’s smoking, alone, out the side of the hotel. She’s tucking her hair behind her ear: it’s getting long. 

“You okay?” Her voice is soft, sure. It’s a question asked out of courtesy, really. She knows he’s not. Anyone with eyes and a brief look at his recent performances knows he’s not. 

“They said they’d finalise the stuff with Toji before the race, but we haven’t heard anything.” 

Shoko sighs, blowing smoke to the side, shaking her head. “Shouldn’t it go to the police?” 

“We tried. The police said they wouldn’t do anything about it, it was the higher ups’ job,” 

“As if the sport isn’t corrupt as fuck.” 

Suguru shrugs. There’s nothing more they can do about it. His stomach rumbles, traitorously, and he winces. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“New meal plan. Have to lose weight,” he replies, and she nods, understanding. 

“Right.” 

He looks at the cigarette in her hand, and remembers a conversation from years ago. They keep me skinny. “Can I have one?” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, sceptical, “you sure?” 

“Yeah. Just- one?” 

“Just this once,” she says, handing him one, lighting it. “I mean it, Suguru.” 

He smiles at her. "I know.” 

 

—

 

He’s not hungry for about an hour, after. It’s bliss. At the end of the day he buys a pack of cigarettes from a random off-license. 

 

—

 

Suguru started in third, got clouted by Toji on the third lap, swore down the radio, then fought his way back up to fourth just to watch Satoru’s world championship celebration from below. 

The owner of Koi, the American man from before, is at this race. He’ll be at Interlagos, too, for the season finale, but he claps Suguru on the back much too hard in parc ferme, smiling, “there’s always next year. You’ll recover.” 

Suguru wants to punch him in the face, but he refrains himself and smiles sweetly instead, because the guy is a really important sponsor, and he needs to be nice. “Thanks.” 

Satoru jumps on him after, and says, “we’re gonna take everyone out tonight, right?” 

His body is warm. Suguru is proud of him, shares in his success as much as always. “Yeah,” 

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

It’s still raining, when it comes to the race, but less heavily than yesterday. Inters seem to be the starting tyre, but this rain in particular is giving Gojo a bad feeling. 

Shoko comes to warm him up. His trainer dismissed, off somewhere. She can sense it, like a bloodhound, he thinks. The way he dips and plateaus and peaks. 

“Is it even about the race?” She hums, holding the resistance band as Gojo snaps his shoulders around.

“I dunno.” Gojo grunts. “I can’t separate things from the track, though, so either way it’s gonna be about the racing.” 

Shoko laughs, “you just gotta get angry about it, instead of moping, that always helps,” 

“Ha, yeah,” Gojo laughs. He could get angry about it. The seven years of silence, the dipping between different outlooks, the separation. He’s the greatest of all time, he knows that. He raced for longer than Sukuna, he has more poles, more wins, lasted over many more regulation changes. He just-

He thought his best friend saw him as more. And he doesn’t. And it shouldn’t be a surprise, but. 

“This is about Getou, right?” Shoko hums, “or am I way off base?” 

“Nah, it’s him,” Gojo huffs out, “he said some stuff about you that I don’t really like.” 

“It doesn’t really matter what he thinks of me,” Shoko frowns, “don’t– don’t deprive yourself of something you want because of your race engineer. That would be stupid.” 

He has to stop at that, and really look at her. The bags under her eyes. She’s doing this for him. She came back to the sport that chewed her up and spit her out, for him. “You’re not just my race engineer, Shoko. Come on, you’re- we only do this for each other,” 

“I dunno, I quite like the paycheck,” she says, smiling, but it's weak. 

“Would you carry on, if I retired?” 

“No,” there’s no hesitation, and she even seems to surprise herself with her own conviction. “Maybe I’d go back to school for a bit. Learn to design the cars properly, instead of just- doing this.” 

“You should. You’d build an incredible car.” 

Shoko sighs, “are you definitely retiring? I know Yaga has his eyes on Nobara. She put in a good couple of performances in Monza and Zandvoort. Proper big points finishes, for that car.” 

Nobara would be a perfect replacement, Gojo has to admit. Young, talented. A good match for Megumi. “I think so, yeah.” 

“What will you do?” 

“Go out as the greatest of all time. Seven time world champion,” 

Shoko laughs, “okay, come on, let’s get back to it.” 

 

--

 

November 2013, Brazil

 

It feels a bit pointless, coming here this year. Both championships are decided, minus a small disaster, and there’s nothing to fight for, apart from the race itself. Of course, Satoru is still acting like it’s a championship decider, focussed and determined and head ducked neatly away behind the shoulders of his engineers. 

Suguru doesn’t see him until they’re hiding in his driver’s room and Satoru is braiding his hair. He’s quick at it, now. Neat. 

In the mirror, Suguru watches his hands move. Pale, smaller than his. Narrower fingers. They’re so different, really, in every way, and they’re still in this room together, they’re still teammates. Satoru is sat on the couch behind him, teeth poking through and making a dent in his bottom lip. Blue eyes focussed, without sunglasses, for once. 

He brings his own hand up to the side of his cheek, in the mirror, just so he can compare them. Tan, to pale. Broad, to slender. Smooth, to tan lines from rings. You can’t see them. The tan lines, Suguru means. Unless you look close enough. Suguru thinks he might be the only one who looks close enough. 

“Okay, done. Let’s go racing.” 

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

Gojo doesn’t see it, so much as he feels it. The slide off the track, the clip from a car that he just lapped, trying to unlap itself. It’s not anybody he cares about, and he catches himself in time to not hit the barriers, but he ends up in fifteenth when he should be in first. It’s frustrating.

It’s a slow battle back to the front, with Shoko coaxing him down from the edge of seething. He gets Yuuta on the fifth-to-last lap, and hunts down Megumi, who, under team orders, offers no resistance. There’s a two second gap in front to Yuuji, but it never closes. The kid is annoyingly good in the rain. Yesterday had been a fluke, really. 

Yuki is conducting the post-race interviews, because of course she is, and Gojo levels a look at her which he hopes says don’t you fucking dare, but probably doesn’t do it well enough, because she smiles, sweet, and laughs, “Gojo, insane drive from you out there, pole to fifteenth and back to second!” 

Gojo feels his eye twitch and his lips curl because she was a driver and she’s been in championship fights and she’s won them and she definitely knows what he’s feeling right now. 

They get paraded around to the podium, then the pressers, where every journalist is focussed on the fact that Yuuji has now overtaken Yuuta in the points, and is closing on Gojo’s own points total with an intensity of a predator on the hunt. 

He’s happy about it. Yuuji. Which of course he is, and he has a right to be, but this is his third win in a row, and Gojo’s done the maths. If Yuuji keeps winning, and Gojo keeps coming second, Yuuji will win the championship. 

A championship that should be his. It would be a frankly insane underdog story. 

Getou was an insane underdog story, and he only had to pull back from forty points behind. Yuuji was seventy points behind after Belgium. Now he’s only fifty behind, without any major slipups from the team to justify it. 

He doesn’t get worried. He never has. But losing championship fights is something he doesn’t really know how to do. 

And he’s been denied this one for so long. The first time, against Yuki, bubbling over into tears cried into Suguru’s shoulder because she stole his championship and she was stealing his best friend, too. The second, to Getou. He lost his friend, too, that day, even if he didn’t know it until three weeks later when Gojo went to report him as a missing person and found out that he’d gone back to Japan. 

Every time, he’s lost something big. He doesn’t want to lose. 

The hunger kicks back in, sitting on a couch holding a microphone. He’s not been hungry for a while. 

He looks back at Yuuji, smiling and answering a question. Pink hair flashing in the lights, dimples showing. Game on. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SEVENTEEN- TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	311
2	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	258
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	252
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	221
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	205
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	162
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	97
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	87
9	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	67
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	57

OFFICIAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SEVENTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	532
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	510
3	Sengoku (=)	367
4	Meiji (=)	184
5	Haein (=)	77
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	60

 

—

 

November 2013, Brazil

 

The podium is good. They get off it together, sweat and champagne soaked, where Yaga embraces them, and tells them they’re proud. The team, that is. The sponsors. Another constructor’s championship won, a world championship for Satoru and a vice championship for Suguru. Attached, always. 

Shoko squeals and says they’re going to ruin her makeup when they pour champagne over her, hitting Satoru’s face in a way that has him reeling, then chasing after her down the pitlane. 

“We’re going out tonight, right?” Satoru grins, canines denting the plush of his bottom lip again. Suguru thinks that if someone tipped champagne over them right now, he’d lick it off him. Hell, he’d lick him without the champagne. He doesn’t. 

“Yeah, world champion.” Suguru says, just to see him blush. Just to see him bashful instead of cocky. 

“We’re both world champions,” 

“Constructors doesn’t count,” Suguru laughs, “come on.” 

Satoru hums like he’s considering it, but shakes his shoulder in a way that will appear friendly, and feels like anything but. Nothing feels friendly between them anymore. 

They go their separate ways when they go back to the hotel, which is rare, for them. Usually they share, or have their rooms joined in some way. Satoru follows at Suguru’s heels most of the time, talking on and on, and Suguru is happy to listen. 

Next season will be better. Next season, he will be able to separate his grief from the act of driving. Next season, he will be able to tell Riko he did it for her. That this is hers, that it should have been hers. 

“Oh, hello,” 

Suguru hadn’t heard Toji’s footsteps behind him. The man is eerily silent, everywhere except on the track. 

“Waiting for your little friend?” He sneers, leaning up against the wall beside him. Suguru lets his phone fall from his fingers slightly. They’d not found anything in the investigation against him, told Suguru and Satoru that it was all just confusion. As a small courtesy, they’d let both of them race, since technically it was the impact from Suguru that had ended her life, not Toji. 

“What do you want?” 

“Vice world champion. What is it, the third year running?” 

Narrowing his eyes, Suguru pockets his phone, and folds his arms across his chest. He’s a better driver than Toji. He knows it, deep in his bones. His record proves it. The fact Keicho is begging to buy out his contract right now to take him back as a driver for next season proves it. 

“Last year I was third.” 

Toji shrugs. “Guess that’s worse in a way, right?” His hand comes down on Suguru’s shoulder, clapping it roughly. “Shame, all that wasted potential. You were completely dominant until you got here, and then-” 

Suguru shoves him off, and he barely flinches in response. “As if you’ll ever win a world championship in a Sengoku. Go fuck yourself.” 

Toji laughs, then, teeth on show. Suguru thinks about his own bluntness, and cringes. 

“You’re a driver who shouldn’t really be playing second fiddle to anyone. You were better than Yuki, and Satoru- well. He’s beatable, for you.” His lips go downturned, and he scratches at the back of his neck. “But the odds are quite good, right now, to bet on you, you know? For next year they’re what- thirty-seven-to-one? Satoru’s at five-to-one. Even Utahime has better odds, twelve-to-one, or something.” 

“I don’t care about betting.” 

“You should,” Toji says. The grin on his face- and suddenly-

“No.” 

Toji shrugs, “it’s just that you seem to think that I might’ve killed that girl on purpose. And I didn’t. But, you know. The odds were against her. The bets were against her.” 

Suguru’s heart is rabbiting in his chest. He wishes he was anywhere else. “Why are you even telling me this? I could go to the police- I could-” 

“The police won’t do anything.” Toji shrugs, “too much money in it. Admire your courage about it, though, kid.” 

Corruption runs deep, apparently. Suguru knew that, but he’d stopped digging when he’s managed to find the roots holding him back and untangle them. If he had kept going, if he hadn’t been selfish, maybe-

“I’m going to kill you,” 

“Nah, you won’t. Too much on the line, really.” Toji smirks, “for us, beating each other is better than- well. Anything else, really, you know that.” 

“You have a kid. You killed someone’s kid,” 

“We do what we have to.” Toji sighs. But it’s not just about Riko. 

Suguru doesn’t know why he hasn’t killed him already. If he lunges for him, Toji wins. If he displays any reaction, Toji wins. 

“You almost killed me.” 

“You could’ve had that crash with anyone. Those high speed corners-”

“You’re reckless.” 

“No, it was a power steering failure in Japan, actually. Brake failure in Spa. Those are accounted for.” 

Suguru stares at him, gritting his teeth. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“There’s no one betting anything on next season. You’re free to race.” Toji smiles, “but, you know. I have my own bet on it. Thirty-seven-to-one. His number, what are the odds?”

Slim, Suguru thinks. His teeth grind together in his mouth. Toji laughs, clapping his shoulder as he walks away. “Would be a shame to see a driver like you wasted because he couldn’t get over his little crush enough to not play second fiddle. Wouldn’t it?” 

Suguru stands in the hallway for a while after that.

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

 Gojo is lounging in his drivers’ room with his feet swinging when there’s a knock on the door. 

“Gojo, it’s Yaga, you okay?” 

Gojo lifts his head slightly to see the door already opening a crack. He sighs, “yeah, just tired. Is Megs good?” 

“Megumi is fine.” Yaga closes the door behind him. “I know it’s not ideal, but I just wanted to run something by you, quickly.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Nobara came in sixth today.” 

Of all the things Gojo was expecting Yaga to say, that isn’t one of them. “That’s a good performance, for the car. Where was Zenin?” 

“Ninth.” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, and finally sits up, propping his elbow up on the couch. “You want to know what I think of her, as a potential replacement for me.” 

“I trust your judgement.” Yaga acquiesces, “and you have somewhat of a sixth sense when it comes to driver performance, I must admit. You told the team to sign Yuuji, and they didn’t, and it’s now one of their biggest regrets. You’re good at recognising talent.” 

Gojo rolls his head from side to side, running a fingernail over his knuckles before he stops himself. “She’s definitely talented. She doesn’t have as much raw pace as Yuuji, or Megs, maybe, but she also had a really significant lack of track time in her junior career and hadn’t been put in G1 cars to test really at all before this season. Sengoku and JTR were using Megs and Yuuji as test drivers throughout their junior careers. She definitely has a lot of potential to get better, and she’s already markedly improved from the beginning of the season. She’d be a risk, but a calculated one.” 

Yaga hums. He pauses, and then pulls his sunglasses away from his face, looking at Gojo with his brows creased. “You’re gonna be a tough act to follow,” 

“I know,” Gojo grins. He’s been told that since he was fifteen, moving on from G4, from G3. When he moved from Sengoku, took that leap of faith in 2010. 

“If I start contract talks with her, the speculation about your retirement will begin properly. You’ll have to answer questions about it.” 

Grimacing, Gojo rubs at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Not ideal, but we can handle it.” 

“We can write a clause into Nobara’s contract that gives her a third driver role in the case that you don’t want to retire at the end of this season.” Yaga says, soft. “I don’t think she’ll want to renew with Meiji, given the amount of hearsay about the internal conflicts there.” 

“Enough to accept the possibility of being a third driver? That’ll take her off the track for a year.” 

“Possibly. We won’t know until we talk to her.” 

Gojo knows it would be cruel, to hold that over her head. To corner her into coming off the grid because there’s no one else to go to. 

“I’ll figure something out.” Gojo says. 

“Right. Well. Any other drivers who you think are worth talking to? Even if they’re in contract?” 

“Inumaki, maybe,” Gojo says, “but Nanami has been saying they’re focussing on next year’s car, and that they’ve managed to take a big step forward. I’d be surprised if Inumaki wants to leave the team when it’s on the up. I would recommend Nanamin too, but-” 

“Utahime?” 

“She’s too happy where she is.” Gojo sighs, “she said she didn’t want to race in the top teams anymore, after Keicho.” 

Yaga shrugs, understanding. “Well, I might sit down with them anyway.” 

He leaves, and slowly, Gojo gathers his things and takes a breath. 

 

—

 

November 2013, Brazil

 

“Yeah, there’s good,” the girl says, pressed back against the wall, breathless. Suguru drinks it in, leaving kisses up her neck in the dark of the club. Her voice is heavily accented, and her English isn’t the best, but she knows who he is, and that seems like enough for him to have bought her a drink. 

He’s almost forgotten about Toji altogether. His brain is melting at the edges, dissolving just that bit more when her hand finds his shoulder and squeezes, leaning on him. “You can-” she says, dragging his wrist down to where her skirt ends up at the top of her thigh. He’s not opposed, he thinks, the bump he had earlier softening the blow of it. 

Then his phone rings in his pocket. He leans back, fumbles his fingers over the button to silence it, and the girl giggles. Suguru should really ask her name. He thinks it might be a bit late to, now. 

Then it rings again, and Suguru groans, finally pulling it out to look at the screen, which, unfortunately reads the love of my life <3 ICE . The girl sees his screen and scowls, pulling back. “Who is that?” 

“It’s just- it’s a joke, okay? I don’t have a-” 

She scoffs and pushes him away, adjusting her skirt. “You drivers are all the same. Girls waiting for you at home, whilst you fuck about with people on the road. I want no part in it.” 

She stalks off, and Suguru barely watches her go, already picking up the phone. “Satoru?” 

“This is Suguru?” An unfamiliar voice sounds over the speakers, and immediately, he tenses. 

“Yeah, sorry, can you hear me?” 

“Your friend is outside, he is very drunk and needs to go home,” 

This happened in America, too. In Korea, in India. Suguru sighs, “I’ll come get him,” and starts the mammoth task of squishing himself back through the club, pushing people out of the way to get back to the entrance. When he gets outside, and the cold hits him, he sees the bouncer holding Satoru’s phone, with its obnoxious blue case and the charms attached. Satoru himself is slumped against the wall, head rolling back, eyes hazy. He’s definitely not just drunk, anyway. 

Suguru takes the phone back off the bouncer, and apologies to him briefly before he crouches down and sighs. Sensing the motion in front of him, Satoru’s eyes blink open, and he smiles big and wide. “Suguru, you’re here, I missed you,” 

You didn’t seem to miss you when that man over a decade older than you was offering you another bump, even though we both have enough drugs of our own, Suguru thinks, but hauls Satoru to his feet anyway. They both wobble. 

He hails a taxi, manages to get Satoru into the back of it, and lets him hold onto his hand and lay his head down on his lap. Anything to make sure he doesn’t throw up. 

It’s a twenty minute drive back to the hotel. Suguru watches the lights outside, blinking. The strobe effect in the club has tired them out.

In the dark of the car, he watches where their hands are connected. They’re still so different. Larger, smaller, paler, more tanned, rings, no rings. 

He always used to think there was strength in those differences. The ways they set themselves apart from each other. Party playboy to his quiet, subdued friend. Teeth to the softness of gums. The way commentators talk about them, you’d think they were polar opposites. Suguru has always thought they weren’t that different really. You can’t be that different when you grow up together. 

But there are differences. Suguru wonders when he started resenting them. 

When Satoru became Gojo on that podium, two-time champion of the world, maybe. Maybe when every pundit put pressure on them to try and create a rivalry that didn’t exist. To try and make them enemies. 

Either way, Gojo is now an immovable force. Different to the boy he grew up with, and different to the man he knows. He’s become something beyond what Suguru is capable of reaching. 

As they clamber out of the car, Satoru keeps mumbling, French, Suguru thinks. When they get in the elevator it becomes the world’s clunkiest Italian, so disjointed that Suguru can’t understand it. 

He sits Satoru down on his bed and he looks at Suguru, grinding his teeth. Okay, so maybe it was coke. 

“I really miss Amanai,” Satoru says, in Japanese. They don’t speak it between them often anymore: it’s mostly English, these days. “I- really miss her.” 

“I miss her too,” Suguru says, kneeling down to unlace Satoru’s shoes. He leans forward, and Satoru’s forehead ends up pressed to the crown of Suguru’s head, tired. 

“I wish we talked about her,” Satoru says, from above him, and Suguru can feel his hot breath on his scalp. “I wish anyone talked about her. No one does.” 

No one wants to talk to you about it because you were never even remotely sad or affected by it , Suguru thinks, shrugging so that Satoru leans back on the bed. Maybe another day, he would’ve undressed him, found his pyjama shirt. He usually does. He stands, leaving him on the bed, and Satoru rolls over to turn and look at him. “You’re not staying?” 

“No,” Suguru says, “nah, someone vomited on me. I need to find some clothes, probably,” 

“You can borrow mine,” Satoru says, but he’s already half-asleep and won’t remember this anyway. 

“Goodnight, Satoru,” 

 

—

 

September 2022, Russia

 

“Can I join you?” Gojo stands where Getou is leant back in his chair. There’s a man beside him at the bar who Gojo recognises, but only very vaguely, but he clearly recognises Gojo, because he smiles and cuts over Getou. 

“Of course, sit, sit, would you like a drink?” 

“Ah,” Gojo winces at the man’s enthusiasm, and clear lack of knowledge, “no. I don’t drink.” 

“Surely a celebration is in order tonight, though? Fifteenth to second, a great run,” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow at Getou, who already looks like he’s cringing slightly, but hiding it well. “Sorry, I believe introductions are in order, Satoru, this is Oliver Accardi, he’s a shareholder for the team. And Oliver, you already know Gojo.” 

“A big fan, really,” Oliver says, grinning with teeth that are so shiny that Gojo can’t tell if they’re veneers or not. Even though the man is clearly Italian, they stick to English. Interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you. Suguru, I can-” 

“No, no, we were just finishing,” Suguru rushes out, in Japanese, before switching back to English, “please, stay, have something non-alcoholic,” 

Oliver laughs, “it’s okay, I will speak to you later, Getou. Really, the job you’re doing is phenomenal, with the team. I have to go and meet my son, we will speak soon.” 

Getou smiles at him, thanks him, in Italian, finally, and the man leaves, into the depths of the hotel. Gojo immediately laughs. 

“Don’t.” 

“Who was he? I’ve never seen him before, I swear,” 

“Not like you pay much attention to the sponsors anyway,” Getou rolls his eyes, but it’s still kind. “He’s a pretty minor shareholder. He wants to buy quite a substantial amount of stock or invest in the team- our choice, apparently, in return for his son being given a spot in the driver academy.” 

“Ah,” Gojo hisses air in through his teeth, “one of those?” 

“I don’t even really make the decisions about the academy,” Getou laughs, “I have some say, sure, but not a lot.” 

“I’m not a fan of parents who throw their money around like that,” Gojo huffs. 

“Your parents threw their money around like that,” Getou scoffs. 

“Okay, no that’s different. I could pay for my seat, sure. My dad never paid for me to be in a program, Suguru. My results spoke for themselves.” 

“The connections helped,” 

“Connections help everywhere. My connections helped you, too,” 

Getou throws his hands up, “doesn’t mean I liked it.” 

“Yeah, you made that clear.” 

There’s a moment of silence, and Getou breathes out through his nose. “I don’t know. The kid’s talented, he’s second in G3 right now and he’s a rookie. Realistically, he’d be a great signing.” 

“But you wouldn’t sign him without the money. The current cohort of G3 is pretty weak right now, so that second place could be a fluke.” 

Getou laughs, “yes. My thoughts exactly. Regardless, he’s still in need of a G2 seat and the dad wants it to be a Keicho one.” 

“Have any teams been in touch with Mimiko?” Gojo says, then, remembering he’d been meaning to ask for a while. “She’s been racing well,” 

She has. She’s currently sitting in the lead, but won’t win the championship until Abu Dhabi. 

“There’s talk of her going to Nara, but it depends how the grid shakes up. Depends if you retire, really,” 

Gojo sighs, “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.” 

“Not asking you to,” Getou hums, “besides, I don’t think you’ve even really decided yet.”

Gojo sits still for a moment. He has decided, he’s just scared of it. Scared of its consequences. “Nah, not really.” 

“Then there’s nothing to tell,” Getou says, like it’s easy. Maybe it could be easy. Their ankles knock together. “Want to come up?” 

Gojo nods, allows himself to wander after Getou through the halls. Sometimes he still feels like a lost puppy, and the feeling is starting to lose its charm; its nostalgia. 

Getou’s mouth is on his neck as soon as they get through the door, and Gojo finds himself laughing into it, hands going straight to Getou’s waist. Throughout everything, this is the easy bit. Gojo knows how to have sex. He knows how to make it good. 

He tries to flip them, but Getou is stronger and weighs more, so it ends up like this: Gojo, staring up at him, mouth slightly dry, as he unbuttons his shirt, smiling. Gojo’s fingers on Getou’s hip where his number is, reverent. 

“You know, I didn’t think you’d be like this, after our first kiss,” Getou mumbles. It’s hard to pick out because he says it against Gojo’s open mouth, searching. Gojo laughs. 

“What do you mean? I let you get me up against the wall of the garage. Of course I was going to let you- do you not like it? Me, like this?”

“It’s sweet you think of that as our first kiss,” Getou says, to his collarbone, hands sliding up Gojo’s stomach, making him shiver. It’s not enough to distract him from this, though, and he pulls back, jaw clicking as he frowns. 

“What? What other time have we kissed?” 

Getou frowns, still with half a smile on his lips, but it’s fading. Gojo is beneath him, and instead of making him feel fizzy on the inside it’s making him feel sick. “In- in 2014. At that afterparty.” 

Gojo pulls his hands down over his stomach, straightening his shirt, trying to pull himself together. “What afterparty. There were like a million, that season, we were always winning.”

Getou frowns. “You really don’t remember?”

“You- Suguru. I was out of it, all the time. I was a mess that season, I barely remember a single celebration. Shoko thought I was trying to kill myself, it was that bad,” 

“I remember Shoko saying, but- you were wild, sure, but-” Getou’s still smiling, disbelieving, like Satoru’s distress is funny, “-Satoru. You really don’t remember?” 

“No. We kissed?” 

A laugh, “you kissed me, more like. Like you wanted to devour me,” 

Satoru burns. He burns, and burns, and burns-

“I really thought you’d be so different, to how you actually are. Soft, really.” 

“It’s been a long time since then.” Satoru feels hollow, like there’s nothing left of him. Rug pulled from his feet, etcetera. 

“I suppose. Still. God, if I knew you didn’t remember, I wouldn’t have kissed you in the paddock,” his mouth meets Satoru’s again for a few sickening seconds, and he allows himself to relax into it, or tries to. He’s not sure what his body is doing, anymore.

“Why didn’t we talk about it, after?” 

Getou pulls away, huffs out a laugh, “I thought you wanted to forget about it. You were wasted, and we didn’t- we never talked about anything.” 

“I wanted to.” Gojo says, “you- you were so focussed on the championship, I didn’t want to take that away from you. You barely spoke to me,” 

Getou finally seems to realise his error, and his face goes pale. “You barely wanted to talk about Riko, let alone a kiss,” 

“I- I wanted to talk about Riko. You didn’t want to talk about her. When I mentioned it to Haibara and Nanamin, Haibara cried and then Nanamin was angry with me for like a month because of it. No-one wanted to-” 

“Christ,” Getou takes a deep breath, “maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all.” 

“No- I-” Satoru stands, his body moving without his own permission, “you didn’t tell me. You- I kissed you- when was it?” 

“End of the season, the party in Abu Dhabi. Maybe in Monaco, one of the two.” 

The cogs click together in Gojo’s head, because- “I kissed you and you retired, put your apartment up for sale, fucked off back to Japan, and ignored my messages for seven years?” 

“That wasn’t because you kissed me- Satoru-” 

Abruptly, Gojo realises he doesn’t want to hear it anymore. “Really?” 

“Come on, it would’ve never worked. If we got found out, our careers would be over.” 

“Like they would be now?” Gojo gasps out, “how is it any different.” 

“I’m in a less public facing position and you’re on the cusp of retiring. How would I have- I couldn’t deprive you of the championship wins, Satoru. You were the single rising star of the sport- do you know that?” 

“I was distantly aware of it, yeah,” Gojo’s voice comes out bitter, and sarcastic, and he sets his jaw, “do you think racing is the only thing that matters to me?” 

Getou looks at him with a look that says yes, and blinks, “Satoru. Come on.” 

“No, I’m. No. You’ve barely changed at all.” He grabs his coat from where it was dumped on the floor near the door, and Getou follows him. 

“No I don’t understand-” 

“I think you’re a coward. I think I’m a coward, too, but at least I can admit that. At least I’m braver now. I would’ve risked everything for you, and you ran away from giving me that choice.” 

Getou has nothing to say to that. Gojo stalls, chest heaving. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

There’s a long pause. He expects Getou to maybe ask if they’re done, if they were ever dating in the first place, if the sex was bad. He doesn’t. He just stands there. “Yeah.” 

When Gojo gets outside the door, he wipes his eyes and his hand comes away wet. He ignores it. 

 

—

 

Notes:

warnings for eating disorder mentions, drug use, super unhealthy coping mechanisms and descriptions of grief, death and crashes.

.. sorry
track in this chapter is the sochi autodrome. In real life, for obvious reasons, the 2022 russian gp did not happen, and was cancelled. included it here because i needed it for my planned points tallies to work. russia being excluded from international sport is the correct decision, and as a figure skating fan i am acutely aware of the way russia uses sport as propaganda. anyway. this is fanfic and it ignores global contexts of sport, so

see u next time! please follow my tumblr, im much more active there and in future, it may have early access to chapters of this fic or its planned sequel :)

Chapter 18: xviii - extrication

Summary:

The process by which a driver is removed from their car after a crash.

Notes:

hey happy race day (almost) here's another chapter!!
more detailed warnings in end notes for those who need
enjoy!

January 2014, Monaco

 

When his phone rings, Suguru fumbles it a couple of times before he manages to pick it up. From across the room, where Shoko and Satoru are sitting playing some sort of game on the sofa, Satoru turns to listen, still focussed on the game. 

“Hello, Getou, listen-” 

“Yaga?” Suguru says, making eye contact with Satoru, who immediately fumbles to pause the game. Suguru taps the phone, puts it on speaker. Everyone in the room is on the team anyway. 

“Yeah, yeah, listen- Tamomo has quit today, no notice. I needed to let you know. You have any preference about who we promote to your race engineer next season?” 

The room freezes, and Satoru nods, very pointedly, towards Shoko. Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head, but the thought has entered his head. Shoko’s definitely smart enough. She’s been a key decider in a couple of upgrades and car changes that helped Suguru stay in touch with the car last season, because she knows him, knows his driving style. Knows he’s fastest when there’s a touch of understeer, and that he’s different to Gojo. 

“I- how quickly do we need to decide?” 

“Testing is in a week,” Yaga says, “so as soon as possible.” 

He flicks the phone off speaker, raising it to his ear and turning away from where Shoko and Satoru are sitting on the couch. “Would you let me have Shoko?” 

Shoko squeaks from the couch, “Suguru!” 

Over the phone, Yaga hums, “she’s the least experienced, but-” 

“She knows me well, better than anyone else,” Suguru says, all in a rush, “I mean, just for Jerez. If she can’t handle it, I’ll take a different engineer.” 

“Fine,” Yaga says, “is she not with you?” 

“Yeah, she’s here.” 

“She’s okay with this?” 

He turns back to Shoko, looking at her with pleading eyes, and holds his hand over the receiver. “Please? Just for Jerez, if you hate it, I can-” 

“Yes.” Shoko says, breathed out into the air in front of them, in a rush, “yeah, Suguru, I’ll do it for you.” 

“Yaga, yeah, Shoko says it’s okay,” 

 

—

 

September 2022, Singapore

 

Singapore is the middle race in a triple header, and Gojo has picked the single worst time to have an argument with Getou, because they won’t really be apart at all for another two weeks, and who’s idea even was this? Three races in a row is far, far too many. 

He wants to go back to Monaco. Yuuta and Yuuji can battle it out for the championship, he can go home and pretend he never existed in the first place. 

But he’s too competitive for that. He has too much to prove for that, too much to lose. His entire legacy, for starters. The legacy he built by losing his best friend. 

If the legacy doesn’t survive, if he loses his spot in motorsport, what was all of it for? If he’s lonely, at least he’s the greatest because of it. 

He’s not scheduled for any press on Thursday, thank God. He keeps an eye on the clips coming out of it, though, on the answers Megumi provides about their strength on this circuit, about how he’s excited to drive here for the first time, since it’s not a track on the G2 calendar. The social media team have a ball with him, following him around as he tries to sign as many caps as possible at the barriers, passing out cards and smiles and speaking about five languages in as many seconds. 

It’s hot and humid and his skin feels like it is stuck to every inch of clothing on his back. His sunglasses dim the lights, but only just. In the end, it’s Yaga who rescues him, clapping him on the back and sending him back to the pitlane, back to Shoko. 

As he’s walking along, he sees the Hasaba sisters talking, walking towards him in the pitlane. Both of them are in their team gear, Mimiko in a tennis skirt and Nanako in baggy jeans, but they both look up when they see him. 

Gojo feels bad, but he just nods, pushing his sunglasses further up his face and lowering his head as he tries to duck by, but Nanako has other ideas. Before he can realise what’s happening, her little hand is encircling her wrist and tugging him to a halt. “You wanna walk with us?” She says, blinking up at him. 

“Ah. Not particularly, to be honest,” Gojo grins, “Shoko’s waiting for me, so.” 

Nanako smiles, and it’s vicious, bitter, “no, come on, I need to talk to you.” 

Gojo concedes, because she’s slightly terrifying, and turns to face her, letting his arms fall against his sides. “So?” 

“What happened to you and Mister Getou?” Mimiko says. Her voice is quiet, measured, the opposite to her sister’s. It’s alarming, really. If Gojo stayed, she’d be in the same division as him next year, most likely, a G1 driver. And it suits her.

Still, he laughs, because– what an absurd question. “You want a rundown of the last twenty-five years, or?” 

“We know what happened before,” Nanako scoffs, “obviously. You were a mess, you argued, you fell apart because of the championship-” 

Gojo rubs his hands over his face, “right, I get it, I get it, okay.” 

“What happened in Russia?” Mimiko finishes off. Her eyes are soft, Gojo realises, which is- 

More than he deserves, probably. “Something that was a long time coming,” 

“What the hell, don’t give us that cryptic bul-” 

“Nanako.” Mimiko cuts her off, and Nanako huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “He seemed happier. And he’s come here and seemed tired, back to how he was before. Back when he was only just back from Japan. He wasn’t a very happy man back then.” 

Gojo feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “Yeah? Well I’m sorry, but-” 

“But he has been better recently. Because of you, and now he’s gone all the way back. So, maybe fix it.” 

“Yeah, because we both love him very much, and if you hurt him-” 

“Jesus. I get it, kid,” Gojo laughs, half-disbelieving. 

“Kid-! I’m twenty!”

“Still a kid,” Gojo grimaces, thinking about the things he did at twenty. He supposes they have Getou to look after them, at least. Like Yuuji and Megumi have him, Nanami, Utahime. “I love him, too. Okay? I’ll- I’ll fix it.” 

“You better.” Nanako scoffs, dragging Mimiko by the hand, “come on, Mimi,”

Mimiko looks back over her shoulder as they walk away down the pitlane, and Gojo feels something stir in him. 

It’s still not over. He wants it to be over, now. He’s never wished for that before. 

He thinks about veering into the wall, embracing the thrum of pain and adrenaline just so he can climb out. 

 

—

 

February 2014, Bahrain

 

“Remind me why I agreed to do this, again?” Shoko breathes out, shaky into the night air, swallowing as smoke billows from her lips. Suguru wants to ask her for a cigarette, but he swore to her he hasn’t been smoking, so he settles for secondhand fumes. 

“Because you love him,” Satoru grins, from the other side of the alley they’re standing in. Because he can’t possibly be anywhere near a cigarette, even though he does coke every other weekend. Hypocrite. 

Shoko sighs, “you’re lucky I do. Love you, that is,” 

“I know,” Suguru smiles, soft, letting a hand go to her shoulders, squeezing. “I can ask someone else, you know that.” 

The truth is, that despite her inexperience, Shoko is a phenomenal race engineer. She knows exactly what to say to make him calm down, gives the right information that he’s looking for on the tyres, the times, before he has to ask for it. It’s uncanny. It’s incredible. 

It doesn’t mean she doesn’t find it stressful. But in Australia, it will be a whole new vat of pressure to deal with. An actual race. Pressure. Suguru watches her drag on the cigarette. “No, it’s fine. I’m doing it for you, you know that.”

Suguru laughs, and looks at Satoru across the aisle. He grins, bashful, cheeks flushed still from the laps he’s done. Race suit bunched around his race, chest on show just beneath it. Below layers of sponsor logos and nomex, as all things are. 

 

—

 

“A new season, eh?” A heavy hand comes to clap down onto Suguru’s shoulder, and he winces, but quickly replaces it with a smile when he sees who’s hand it is. 

“Hello.” He replies, soft and smooth and everything his sponsor wants him to be. Ironic, because the owner of Koi is none of those things himself. 

“How are you feeling about the car?” He asks, because Suguru can know no peace, even when he’s just trying to look at the data and settle his head into something quiet before he heads out on track again. It’s been loud whilst he’s driving recently. 

“Good,” Suguru nods, trying to come off as placid. Maybe he hits something closer to bored, though. “It feels fast,” 

Compared to the other teams, they’re reportedly miles ahead. Keicho is struggling this season after having to pay out a large amount of money to fight lawsuits surrounding Riko’s death. 

“It’s your year this year, I can feel it,” he says, and Suguru feels it through his whole body, vibrating like a threat. 

 

—

 

September 2022, Singapore

 

The thing about Singapore is that it’s fucking hot. Humid. Still, when they race at night, even. The second Gojo is out of the car, he’s peeling off layers and they’re throwing ice cubes in a random bucket behind the garage for him to sink into. In one of their years as teammates, Getou had picked up a small bucket and, with Gojo’s goading, tipped it straight over his head. 

The cold was a shock, and Gojo had squealed. He was aware, distantly, of someone filming them, him in his fireproofs and Getou still dressed up in his race suit, weirdly cagey about anyone seeing his body. Then they were laughing, and Gojo was pushing his hair from his eyes and watching as Getou’s tired eyes had lit up for a bit. 

He’s always loved Singapore. 

Megumi clambers into the ice bath next to him, in swim trunks, sinking in unceremoniously with his teeth chattering. Gojo looks at him and grins. 

“Shut. Up.” 

“I didn’t say anything,” 

“You’re thinking it,” Megumi huffs, “how are you so relaxed?” 

“Years of practice,” Gojo grins, but really it’s because Megumi’s bath is colder than his, as prescribed by their personal trainers. He watches as Toto sniffs around the bath, nose quivering next to Megumi’s arm. He’s wearing a cooling vest. 

Gojo turns when Shoko walks along, ducking below the cameras gathered and kneeling by him. She smiles, soft. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Gojo ducks his head, some vulnerability coming through as they slip into Japanese, “not here, though,” 

Shoko nods, pressing her lips together. “Data looks good, from your simulations. We’re ahead of Keicho, probably.” 

There’s something about it that makes him soft at the edges. Them, together at the end of the world. She’s tired, Gojo can tell. Would he make her do it another year just for his sake? Would she even want to? Could he do it without her?

Megumi shuffles in the bath next to them, shoulders sloshing the water around in the makeshift bath-bucket-whatever. “Are we faster than Keicho?” 

“Should be,” Shoko says, “but Yuuji can outperform a car. They were preparing to be weak here anyway.” 

Singapore is an outlier on the calendar in terms of its characteristics, Gojo has to agree. Low speed corners, heavy breaking and high humidity. Plus, it’s counter-clockwise. 

Still, Gojo loves it. He’s won here five times, all in all, and he loves the challenge of it, the differences between it and everywhere else. The feeling of your first win never really goes away, he knows. 

It’s still one of his clearest memories, Singapore. The first time. He remembers the anticipation, the knife’s edge of knowing all weekend that this time he wouldn’t be at a disadvantage to anyone else. He remembers looking at Suguru in his Keicho team gear, with the headphones on, chin tucked against the engineers. Blending in. 

He’s never told anyone else, but it was that moment for him. He knew at that moment that Suguru would drive for Keicho. It should’ve been a given, really, with him in their driver academy, and winning like he was, but not all academy drivers went on to drive for that team. Much less when they already seemed to have a formula that was working: two world champions in their car, exceptional in their abilities. 

But Satoru knew then. It wasn’t until the end of the G3 season that the most eagle-eyed pundits started toting him for it, and not until his G2 wins that everyone else followed suit. 

He also remembers knowing that at some point, they would drive for the same team, because he was there with Keicho. He was laughing with them and soft around them all weekend, taking tips from Yuki and track walking with her. 

And at the end of it all, when he won, when he crossed the line and looked to the pit wall, there he was. Sticking out like a sore thumb, in red, screaming bloody murder over the railings, hands clutched in the holes of the metal. 

He obviously hadn’t appreciated all of those details in the moment, but the clip got reposted a ton. He’s watched it back more times than he can count. The smile on Suguru’s face, the flush in his cheeks from running down the pitlane, the way his shirt collar was rumpled. It made him borderline insane. 

Because they’d gotten to parc ferme and he’d been amongst purple, not with his own team, and Satoru had thrown himself at him. It felt like a gloat. Yuki was in P2, and he was there for him. 

So yeah, when, after the podium Suguru had met him, smiling wide and bright and sharp, Satoru had melted. He was still sticky with champagne and fired up on adrenaline, and he remembers the way their hearts had been in time with each other’s. 

He knew back then that they’d both be in grade one together. He knew that they’d race in the same team. Some things are inevitable. 

He wants to go back, slap his younger self around the face and tell him to not do it. 

All things are clear in the rearview mirrors, though, aren’t they? 

Gojo rolls his shoulders back and blows air out through his teeth. “How long do I have left?” 

“Two minutes,” someone says from somewhere. He can’t wait to get out of the cold. 

 

—

 

Itadori’s recent form is promising, says Keicho team boss, despite FP2 performance / G1 News / Singapore Grand Prix 2022

Written by Ana Wooten, 31st September 2022 

 

After FP2 in Singapore, Yuuji Itadori is not top of the timesheets. That spot belongs to Sengoku’s Nanami Kento, who put in an impressive lap on softs to end the session in P1.  

Itadori finished both sessions on Friday uncharacteristically low, but Team Principal Suguru Getou says that this isn’t concerning: “we are focussing on the long runs, so our times in general aren’t representative of what the car is capable of [in qualification].” 

Yuuji’s recent form in races is something that can’t be overlooked by anyone, with three wins in a row shrinking the gap to the leading Satoru Gojo from seventy points to just fifty. In two of those three races, Itadori has set fastest laps, earning maximum points. “His recent form is promising. He’s unlocked this kind of hunger within himself and he wants it bad, definitely. He’s in a position where, with any kind of inconsistency from Jujutsu Tech, we could find ourselves within striking distance of Gojo. It’s exciting.” 

Getou’s own championship came from a point deficit of over forty coming into the second half of the 2014 championship. His opponent, too, was Gojo. “My championship was similar, I guess, yes. I had a much smaller points gap, and Gojo made no mistakes. We were also in the same team, which means the nature of the fight is different. But I think Yuuji can do it. I wouldn’t be a good principal if I didn’t have faith in him.” 

 

—

 

March 2014, Australia

 

“It’s the first race of the season,” the journalist says, and Suguru raises his eyebrows. Basically every journalist has been saying that, today. Like he doesn’t already know. “And you have a new race engineer, this season, and she’s relatively young. How are you feeling about that decision?” 

Suguru sighs, recounting the same answer he’s already repeated about three times over today. “She’s talented, and we’ve known each other a long time. She knows me well, and that’s the most important thing. She’s someone who I trust to make the best decisions for me and for the team.” 

“So, was it your decision to bring her on, or the team’s?” 

“I asked them to trial her in testing at Jerez, and she exceeded expectations, so the team has kept her on.” 

The journalist nods, “and of course, the championship. Do you fancy your prospects this year?” 

“Every year.” Suguru frowns, “I’ve had some bad luck, with the team orders in Keicho, and then the crash in late 2011. I was on the back foot in 2012 with my recovery from that crash, and last year, my performance struggled after- yeah. After Riko died. But this is a new season, and I want to prove everyone who doubted me wrong.” 

“And the car? How are you feeling about it this year? Testing indicates you guys will be strong.” 

In the final round of testing, it became much more clear that this year, the team is going to be untouchable. The Keicho doesn’t even come close. One of them will win the championship, and Suguru is desperate for it to be him. “Yeah, we’re feeling good about it. Testing only gives us so much, though, so we’ll only see once we get out on track. Keicho could be close.” 

Be humble, regulate expectations. “Okay, just one more, then I’ll let you go.” The journalist smiles again, softness creasing in the corners of her eyes. Suguru rolls his shoulders back. “Obviously it’s well documented that you and Gojo are close. Do you think that a proper title fight between the two of you will destabilise that relationship? Can you stay friends through it?” 

Suguru takes a deep breath. They’re invasive. He won’t give them anything of himself, or of Satoru. No more than he has to. “Yes. We’ll always be friends. I’ve known him my entire life,” 

 

—

 

Satoru barges into Suguru’s drivers’ room before the race rather unceremoniously, panting with his cheeks flushed. “I forgot- oh,” 

Suguru lets his own cheeks flush with shame. “Yeah, sorry, I should’ve told you,” 

“So I don’t need to do your hair anymore?” 

Suguru smiles softly, shaking his head. His practice braiding has paid off. The plaits are loose, but definitely workable, especially under the balaclava. 

Satoru shuffles in the doorway, looking awkward. “Okay, sorry, I’ll go. I- um. I should probably warm up, anyway. I’m late.” 

“I’ll see you after,” Satoru says then, hopeful. It’s not like they won’t: not really. Satoru’s qualified P2 and Suguru’s on pole. It should be a clean sweep: easy. Utahime was already a whole half a second behind in quali. 

“I’ll see you after.” 

 

—

 

There’s five laps left to go round Albert park when he gets the order: “bring both cars home safe. Strat three.” 

“Copy,” Suguru says, hands steady on the wheel, taking the next corner with ease. Four laps left to go. There’s a second’s worth of gap behind to Satoru. He can do that. Bring it home. Strat three means to switch to a lower engine mode, cruise, save the engine. 

The first win of the season, and it’s his. The car and his body move as one, despite the ache in his back, and the dizziness from barely being able to eat all weekend. 

In the second-to-last lap, he looks in his wing mirrors, seeing Satoru closer than he was before. He radios in, “what the hell is he doing?” 

“He’s had the order,” Shoko says, voice crackling, “gap behind is point-three,” 

Suguru swears under his breath, and then Satoru dives down the outside, late on the breaks. Something that Suguru would be impressed by, if he wasn’t in the other car. 

He has to back off to avoid a collision. Satoru wobbles in front of him and speeds off into the distance, leaving Suguru in the dust. “What the fuck,” 

“Yeah, I don’t know. He got the same order from the pitwall. Just bring it home, Suguru,” Shoko says, and her voice sounds panicked, frayed at the edges. Like she doesn’t know what’s going on either. 

He tries to get him back, but it’s too late, even when he switches his engine mode back up. He crosses the finish line in second. 

He’s seething when he climbs out of the cockpit, even more so when he sees Satoru jump towards the team. He can hear their cheers. This should be his. He followed the orders. He was trying to do the right thing. And he’s been punished for it. 

Anger settles in the hollow of his chest. In the hollow of his stomach. Why would Satoru do this to him?

He strides over, grabbing Satoru’s wrist, pulling up his visor at the same time as he pulls up his own. “Strat three, Satoru, what the fuck?” 

Satoru blinks at him, “I dunno what you’re on about. We never got the strat call?” 

“I got the strat call. You weren’t supposed to overtake,” 

“I was faster,” Satoru says, eyes stormy. “Do you want me to not race you just because we’re mates?” 

It stings, because no, that’s not what he wants, it’s never been what he wants. He wants to race Satoru, he wants to prove they’re on the same level to everyone who calls Satoru a prodigy and Suguru wasted potential. And– mates? “Mates,” he spits out, teeth gritted, “oh, we’re mates, are we?” 

“You know what I mean,” Satoru’s still unbothered, is the thing. He’s not really rising to Suguru’s anger, and Suguru feels like this time, he has the right to be angry. This time, if no other. 

The debrief is tense. Suguru listens to the team justifying Gojo’s actions, justifying his overtake, saying his radio had been faulty all race and he mustn’t have heard. Suguru looks across the room to where Gojo is sat, next to Yaga, chewing his lip, and thinks-

Bullshit. 

 

—

 

OPINION: Is Getou really worthy of a World Championship? / G1 / Long Reads

Written by James Russell, March 20th 2014

 

The opening race of the 2014 season has made clear that Jujutsu Technical Racing have aced the development game: both of their drivers pulled a significant gap to the nearest driver behind, Iori Utahime in the Keicho. On top of their stellar development, they boast easily one of the strongest driver lineups the sport has ever seen: two-time world champion Satoru Gojo, and his long-time friend, karting rival and the rookie champion of both G2 and G3, Suguru Getou. 

 

[Image Description: Getou and Gojo walking along the pitlane with their backs turned to the camera. Getou has his racing suit pulled all the way up, white with the black portion of the Koi logo visible, but Gojo has his down around his waist, showing his baselayers. Gojo is waving his hands at Getou, who’s sipping on his water. In the background, personnel are vacating their path.] 

 

Getou has proven his worth in his time in G1. His rookie season is the best ever statistically, remaining a championship contender right up until the final race of the season, where he delivered an incredible defensive drive to give his teammate, Yuki Tsukumo, the championship. The next year, he was again a fierce contender, leading the points until a serious accident with Sengoku’s Fushiguro took him out for the rest of the season. That championship ended up in the hands of Tsukumo, too. 

 

[Image Description: Getou holding his trophy with one hand in Monaco 2010. He’s smiling, cheeks red. In the background, out of focus, Gojo is seen smiling at him.]

 

In 2012, in his first year as teammates with Gojo, he started on the back foot, due to injury recovery, and that point deficit and tough competition with Tsukumo was enough to have JTR prioritise Gojo’s win. Still, Getou delivered another incredible overtake on Tsukumo in the last lap to give his teammate the championship, an act of sportsmanship that delivered an emotional first win for Gojo, and for JTR. 

 

[Image Description: Gojo held in Getou’s arms in the moments after the 2012 championship decider in Brazil. The sun is shining behind them, and the light is bouncing off Gojo’s helmet, reflecting rays away from their bodies. Both their visors are flipped down, with Getou’s visible arm hooked under Gojo’s, holding him upright. Just to their left is Gojo’s car.]

 

Again, in 2013, Getou was fighting at the top of the standings until Amanai Riko’s eventual fatal crash at Spa Francorchamps, where he sustained injuries, too. But those injuries were largely superficial, and he returned to racing immediately after, driving in Monza. 

In 2013, Getou’s main enemy was his own mentality. Whilst he struggled to right himself, his teammate capitalised on his lack of form and took back the championship lead with three wins in a row whilst Getou came second. His last win of the season came at his home race in Japan, where a usually stoic figure cried on the podium. 

 

[Image Description: Getou, teary eyed, on the podium of Suzuka 2013. His face is obscured by his own cap and Gojo’s body blocking the frame.]

 

In 2014, with easily the strongest car on the grid, Jujutsu Tech has stated that their drivers will be allowed to race, freely and cleanly, without team orders. That has been their policy for the last few years, but this time it seems that with no one close, the sport really will see one of its greatest battles: a fight to the end to establish the better driver. Getou hasn’t had a full season yet where he hasn’t suffered bad luck in some shape or form, and this is his opportunity to prove he belongs with the best. 

There’s a problem, though. Does he have the mentality to fight for championships? Can he fight dirty against even his closest friend? 

 

[Image Description: Getou, sat against the wall in the JTR garage. His face is held in his hands and his knees are tucked up to his chest.]

 

Gojo has proved he’s willing to get his elbows out. In Melbourne last weekend, he pulled out a truly brilliant overtake on his teammate for the win, and Getou seemed unable to fight back. He’s proved he wants it badly enough: Getou still has much to learn. 

2014 is make-or-break for Getou. He is in a team that has provided him with a car capable of winning, but can he capitalise on it? If he doesn’t want to get stuck as Getou’s number two driver, he needs to learn. 

 

SEE COMMENTS: 

 

Racingfan3773: it might be harsh, but its true. Getou needs to prove he has the mentality to take on a generational talent like gojo, even if they’re best friends

 

Scuderiafans: counting Utahime out of the championship when she finished third is crazy

> Davidbriggs: Thirty seconds behind Getou in second, though?? It’s clear no one is touching them this season

 

Daisymaya: Honestly I’m excited to see them race. Getou is an incredible talent and it would be a shame to see him not win a championship

 

—

 

October 2022, Singapore

 

Shoko makes a point about going to the track together with Gojo, which Gojo thinks is slightly strange until she’s opposite him in the car, speaking in soft Japanese. “Um. Getou texted me, this morning.” 

Gojo’s eyebrows fly off his forehead. “Really?” 

Getou had seemed pretty dead set on not getting in touch with her again, when he bought it up. 

“Yeah, it’s just-” she fishes out her phone from her pocket, “it says, hey, I know we haven’t talked in a while but I think we should catch up,” Shoko frowns, staring at the screen for a moment longer. “What do I even say to that? My last message to him was in 2014, please text me back so I know you’re alive,” 

Gojo winces at the harshness of it. His last messages to Getou were in 2015, but they were different. Begging, pleading, shouting at a brick wall. In 2014, it was- 

He remembers with a jolt how certain some of them were when he disappeared that he’d just- 

He doesn’t want to think about it. Still, he hisses out air through his teeth. “I mean. Would you not like to catch up? Be friends again?” 

“I feel like he’s doing it for you,” Shoko presses her lips together, “and- I don’t want to be friends with him because he thinks he should because he loves you, y’know?” 

“You never know. He could be trying to recruit you,” Gojo laughs, to try and change the subject, but it doesn’t work.

“I’m never going to work for Keicho, Satoru. The only way I’d go is if you went, and that’s not happening, is it?” 

“Yeah, nah.” Sighing, Gojo looks at the ceiling of the car. Fuzzy, grey. “I don’t know if me and him will- um. We argued last week, after the race. About- old stuff. So. Yeah, I don’t think it’s for me.” 

Shoko frowns, “what old stuff?” 

Gojo doesn’t want to talk about this, much less right before the last free practice and quali, but here they are. “I kissed him in 2014, apparently. And he only just told me, so. I got annoyed with him.” 

Shoko rolls her lips together, “you kissed him and you didn’t remember it?” 

“Is that really a surprise?” 

Shoko shrugs. “Suppose not. I don’t think you two were ever not in love with each other. Y’know, the whole time you were teammates, I thought you two were already together, and you were just keeping it secret to keep yourselves safe.” 

“I wouldn’t have kept it secret from you,” Gojo says, indignant, because how could she even think-

“I know. But I wouldn’t have held it against you.” The silence stretches for a moment. Gojo looks at her, the curves of her face, her eyeliner. He knows it to be true. “Y’know, in 2012, I made a bet with Riko, right before Monaco,”

“Oh, what was it?” 

“About who would be the one to confess first,” Shoko laughs, “it was so stupid.” 

“Yeah? Who was your money on?” Gojo stretches his legs across the car, and his arms above his head. He’s too tall for this, really. 

“Getou,” she says, “but that was only because Riko was adamant it would be you– hang on, I still have the messages, you wanna see?” 

Against his will, Gojo holds his hand out. 

 

—

 

Riko ! <3 : dude i didnt realise how serious this was

 

Me: What do u mean? 

 

Riko ! <3: i dunno

Riko ! <3: like, i thought every1 was exaggerating maybe like ofc theyre good friends but nah

Riko ! <3: i just, stepped in the room with them and its so obvious

 

Me: oh, suguru + satoru?

 

Riko ! <3: yh 

Riko ! <3: this is excruciating

Riko ! <3: nvr seen gojo giggle but hes giggling now

 

Me: u will get used to them dw

 

Riko ! <3: i am so winning this bet

 

Me: ha. satoru barely even knows what he feels most of the time, no ur not

 

Riko ! <3: nah he’s gonna confess without even realising

Riko ! <3: jus by sayin smth stupid to the press or wtv

 

Me: you would’ve won a hundred times over if that was the criteria riko

 

Riko ! <3: off topic but even if i dont win ive nvr been as sure of smth as i am with this

Riko ! <3: like I was expecting to have to look for it yk? squint a bit

 

Me: really? they’re not subtle

 

Riko ! <3: ok shut up lemme make my point

Riko ! <3: i cant even pinpoint it its so stupid but like the moment i saw them together i felt it

Riko ! <3: like, in my bones, i was so certain

Riko ! <3: u dont count anyway you’ve known them too long so

 

—

 

Gojo rarely cries. He barely remembers the last time he did, probably somewhere in the depths of 2015 or 2016 when the world felt grey and pointless. 

He cries now, though. Shoko doesn’t pity him, or comfort him more than a soft hand on his arm. She’s in it with him, the waves of grief. They hold each other afloat. 

He misses Riko. Always. He always will. If he could go back in time, he’d tell her to never start that race, tell her to never drive again, just to keep her safe. His idiot makeshift little sister, who apparently knew them better than they knew themselves. 

It feels like he might have been the only one who didn’t notice back then. 

 

—

 

March 2014, Monaco

 

There’s no interviews or appearances scheduled for Suguru the entire two week break between Australia and Malaysia, so he goes home. He feels guilty about the sense of relief that he feels that Gojo won’t come home with him, kept by a exhibition drive in Europe, somewhere, that he was whining about having to go to. 

Suguru had thought privately that he didn’t have to do anything, given he’s Jujutsu’s golden boy and had enough money to buy whatever he wants. But Gojo feels this weird sense of duty to the team that Suguru’s never fully understood. So here he is. Alone in Monaco. 

In the corner of his bedroom, Suguru has tucked away parts of his childhood that he can’t embrace to be a good driver, but that he couldn’t leave behind in Japan. A couple of signed caps - Yuki, Choso, Yaga - old merch that he had as a kid, his old race suits from when he was in G4, G3, G2. Amongst all that is the letter from his dad that he hasn’t dared to open, yet.

When his mom passed it to him, the wound was still too raw. He’d been gutted open by the loss, carved and made hollow. It’s easier to confront a gaping hole within yourself than a wound, bleeding and gushing and hard to manage. 

Pressure does great things for stopping bleeding. 

The pressure is different, now, though. It’s shifted from being this unbearable crushing weight pushing his head below water, the weight of proving himself, to something more girl-shaped. A voice on his shoulder telling him now or never, for me. 

He doesn’t know how to handle this. He’d spent the entire plane ride home thinking about what he’d say to his dad, if he were there. If he’d comfort him, or tell him to get Satoru back at the next race with little sympathy. He has no idea what he wants. He’d take any of it, a shoulder to lean on like Gojo has with Yaga. 

He honestly just wants someone to look from the outside in and be judge, adjudicator. To tell him what’s fair and what’s right, because it’s so easy to get lost in the emotion of it all and in the biases. For someone to tell him if he’s being a baby, or if it’s Gojo that needs to grow up and learn how to race fair. 

The letter is the closest he has, he supposes. To talking to his dad again. To hearing his voice. He can’t remember what it sounds like. 

Suguru’s fingers flit over the paper, over the seal that’s decayed with time. He takes a deep breath, letting his fingernail tuck under the paper. Under the weight of the paper. 

It’s not his dad’s handwriting, is the first thing he notices. Which shouldn’t be a surprise, but somehow still is. It’s his mom’s. Sure. Soft. Looping. He thinks about the drafted message to her in his phone: can I come home? Is my room still there?

Suguru, 

It reads. 

I am sorry, but I don’t think I can hold on to see you in Grade One. I know you will be there, next year, because I’m watching and all the reporters are saying great things about you. I’m going to be at Japan with you. And I hope by then, at least, they will tell you you have a team for next year. 

I’m so proud of you. I don’t think I said it often enough. Your mother definitely says I don’t say it often enough. I thought I may have been biased, back when you were young, about how talented you were, about how much I thought you could achieve. It turns out I wasn’t. You’re one of the most talented racing drivers in this generation. And I’m so proud of you. 

I’m more proud of your resilience. I’m proud of you for not giving up. I’m proud of you for finding sponsors to forge a career for yourself that is something you’ve dreamed of since you were little. I don’t say it enough, and we talk about racing a lot, but not about this. I hope you’re okay with all the off-track stuff. I’m sorry I can’t be there to do it for you: I would if I could. 

He turns the page with shaking hands. 

I’ve been watching a lot more racing than I used to, recently. Something about being confined to a hospital bed will do that to you. That Gojo kid’s good, huh? He’s out performing Toji, and the car. People love him. A big personality. 

He never stops talking about you. About your potential, whenever he’s asked. He looks after you. But from the way he talks about you, I think you look after him, too. Keep looking after him. Not many people have nice things to say about him, in the paddock. He’s always alone on driver parades and interviews. The little things, I’m noticing from watching all the interviews in my spare time. 

He lights up when he gets to talk about you. Really. 

I feel like I should tell you because you’re like me. You don’t notice these things sometimes. And he loves you, he really does. 

The handwriting changes. It’s his dad’s. Shaky, and slow. He can tell. His handwriting looks the same way in the notebooks he keeps about the car, on the rare occasion he writes in kanji. Most of his notes are in English. 

I couldn’t let your mother write this next bit, or see it. I think it’ll be our secret. I’ll love you always, even if loving your best friend is something you feel the need to hide from me. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I had a best friend when I was in high school. He was foreign, blonde, taller than me. I’ve never told anyone about him. He went back to America a long time ago, and I’ve never heard from him since. 

I love your mother. She is the kindest, most amazing woman. But sometimes I wonder. I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life wondering. He’ll have you. I know these things, because I’m older, and I’m your father. 

He is yours, you are his. No matter the nature of it. 

I know you. I know you want to win. Be patient. It will come to you, you are a natural talent with nothing to prove. Do not lose him in the process. I cannot bring myself to ask you in person: perhaps its my weakness, but I need you to promise me, when you read this. Things like that are rare. I will love you regardless. 

There’s no closing remark. Suguru flips the page, hoping for more, maybe. But that’s it. Ink to paper, the last words his dad wrote. 

You could have gone to America , he thinks weakly. I could’ve never existed and I wouldn’t have hated you for it. You could be alive, instead of working in an asbestos-ridden place to fund my dreams. 

“Sorry, dad,” he says aloud, to the empty room, as if he’ll hear. “I don’t think I can promise you anything.” 

Because whilst he’s a natural talent, Gojo defies the laws of nature. He can’t have both: he knows that now. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Singapore

 

He thinks about it all the way through FP3. Getou texting Shoko. 

He’d said to her that he didn’t mind what she did with it. Whether she met him or not. Whether they spoke or not. He just can’t shake the feeling he’s doing it to try and make amends with Gojo, not Shoko. He can’t shake what he said: I’d do it for you, if you wanted. 

He doesn’t want Getou to do it for him. That hasn’t changed. He wants them to be friends because- 

Well, because they’ve known each other since they were kids. Because they used to be so close, and he doesn’t fully understand how it fell apart, and he wants it back. He wants the easiness of it, the burn of the summer sun on the nape of his neck and the cool aloe of Suguru’s hands, later. He wants the laughter that comes with it, sunsets and sunrises spent pushing each other around on the tarmac. 

Racing was always as much about that as it was about the driving. And then it became a career, and they all got distant, and Riko died, and everything was worse. 

It kind of feels like that again now. 

He’s slow in practice, distracted. He impedes one of the Sengoku drivers by accident because he wasn’t looking in his mirrors, and grimaces as he moves to let them past. “Shit, who was that?” 

“Inumaki,” Shoko says over the radio, and Gojo winces. 

“Sorry to him,” 

“Not penalty worthy, don’t worry,” Shoko hums, and that wasn’t really what he was going for, but he’ll take it. 

He finishes down in P4, behind both his teammate and both Keicho drivers. There’s nothing in it for P1, with Megumi and Yuuji separated by barely two hundredths of a second. Gojo’s still impressed by that, even if his performance is making his body feel heavy. 

Shoko bumps shoulders with him as they stand in the garage, and she casts a heavy gaze over him. “You’re off it,” 

Gojo just hums in response. He’s been braking too early through turn fourteen, compared to Megumi, at least. Their setups are slightly different, but- 

“Are you tired?” 

Turning to actually face her, Gojo frowns. “We’re all tired.” 

“That’s not what I asked,” Shoko levels with him, “you don’t look good,” 

“I’ll get myself together for quali, don’t worry,” Gojo smiles, and he knows it to be true. He loves driving this track, right on the limit. Loves to skim the walls and find the fastest line. 

Something flickers on Shoko’s face, and then disappears as she thinks about hiding it, but then it comes back. Concern. “I’m not worried about your driving.” 

I’m worried about you. She doesn’t say it, but Gojo knows her well enough to know what that means. “My driving is the only thing that we have to worry about, right now,” 

Shoko tilts her head back, exasperated. “You know, I think you’re completely obtuse,” she groans, “but some of us care about you as a person even if your results are shit.” 

Gojo blinks at her. He knew that– he did. He’s not- 

Did he know that? Has anyone ever told him?

“Sorry,” is the only thing he can think to say, which is ridiculous, because he’s got nothing to be sorry for. He feels like he should, though. 

“You’re an idiot,” Shoko says, smiling, “go sit in your drivers’ room for a bit and I’ll tell everyone to not bother you for at least half an hour, ideally until quali.” 

Gojo sighs, ruffling through his own hair. She always knows what he needs. “Thanks, Shoko,” 

“I haven’t texted him back, yet, by the way,” she says, “I’ll think about it, after the race is done. Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Gojo says, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, okay,” 

 

—

 

He blasts music through his headphones for an hour straight, face smushed into the couch, and contemplates texting Getou. 

What would he even say? Hey, don’t hurt her? Don’t do this for me, do it for yourself? Please don’t make her work for Keicho? 

He doesn’t even pick up his phone to begin drafting the message. 

 

—

 

April 2014, Bahrain

 

Suguru wins in Malaysia. It burns right through him, gold and brilliant, and with Gojo right next to him on the podium, they head into the third race of the season completely equal on points, matched at forty-three. 

There’s a lot of buzz about it. He’s been asked about this race acting as a possible tie-breaker at least three times already, mid-way through media, and Gojo whines about it as they walk through the paddock with Utahime and Haibara, both dressed in Keicho red. 

“I don’t wanna hear about how we’re gonna become mortal enemies,” he groans. “It’s like they’re trying to make us hate each other.” 

Haibara laughs, “I can’t imagine you two hating each other.” 

Utahime scoffs next to them, “Gojo, you hated Toji within two months of being teammates and you weren’t even fighting for a title.” 

“That’s because he’s a cunt,” Gojo, Haibara and Suguru all say at once, and then Haibara jumps, “jinx! You guys can buy my drinks after the race,” 

Gojo groans as if he doesn’t have millions sitting in his bank account and a flat bought outright on the coast in Monaco and a yacht. As if they all don’t have those things. A life of luxury. “Come on, that shouldn’t even count-” 

Utahime laughs, and her shoulder bumps Suguru’s arm. Not for the first time, he finds himself feeling a little envious of her height. She weighs like, fifty-five kilos on a bad day. Suguru has to battle to stay below seventy. 

“It definitely counts,” she says, “just because it’s a common opinion doesn’t mean-” 

“Fine,” Gojo huffs, flicking his wrist to check his watch. Something stupid expensive from a sponsor. Suguru's wearing his, too. Gojo once said that he hates wearing a watch, only wears it because he has to. He forgets a lot, gets into trouble for it. It comes in handy now, though. “Fuck, I’m late for the pressers,” 

“What? No, I’m in the same one, what time is it?” Haibara leans across, grabbing at Gojo’s arm, “shit.” 

Gojo turns, dragging Haibara with him and breaking out into a run. “I’ll see you later Suguru!” 

They watch them go: neither of them are in the press conference today, instead heading back to the motorhomes before being sent back out to appease sponsors or written media. 

“Do you actually think you’ll be okay?” Utahime murmurs, soft. It’s easy to forget how long they’ve known each other, when they’re not close, but they still know each other. A bit too well, really. 

“Me and Gojo?” Suguru murmurs, knowing that their relationship has already changed fundamentally, “I don’t know.” 

Utahime winces at him. “Since when have you been calling him Gojo?” 

And that’s that question answered, isn’t it?

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT - THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yu HAIBARA (Scuderia Keicho), Toji FUSHIGURO (Sengoku Racing), & Nanami KENTO (Nara)

 

Q: Welcome, all. Gojo, I’ll start with you. You won the season opener in Australia, second in Malaysia. It’s been an incredibly strong start to this season for Jujutsu Tech, the strongest the team’s ever been. How are you feeling about the development of the car and your prospects in the constructors?

SATORU GOJO: I think the mood in the team overall is positive. There’s been a lot of work done over the past two years and it’s finally coming good. The speed and control we have of the car is incredible and the way it responds to my driving is incredible. I love it. 

Q: And of course, the fight between you and your teammate. This is the closest you two have been in the early races so far, do you feel the pressure is on more than previous years?

SG: I mean, yeah. I want to win another championship, Suguru wants to win his first. He might even be hungrier than me for it [laughs] but it’s definitely a different feeling coming in in a car that looks like it’s gonna be dominant. 

Q: If the car is as dominant as it looks, and it’s between the two of you, will your relationship suffer? You’ve been friends a long time, but it’s been proven difficult to stay on good terms when the stakes are so high. 

SG: [pause] I don’t know how to respond to that? Um. I don’t think it matters who wins between us, who’s the better driver, I mean- he’s my best friend, I’ve known him my whole life. There’s not anything that would make me hate him. If he beats me this year, he’s the better driver, and then we go again next year, we race again. We know how to push each other to the limit, because we know each other so well- we’ve raced against each other all our lives- so. No matter what, I’ll always want to race with him. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Singapore

 

The lights are bright, and Gojo’s visor is extra dark for the qualifying sessions. In the moments between the sessions, where he’s strapped into the car just tucked into himself, waiting. The data screens that get lowered in between, and he’s staring, now, having scraped into Q3 in P5. 

“You’re losing time in sector two,” Shoko’s voice comes, calm and clear, “the traffic didn’t help, though,” 

“True, we were compromised by Yuuji on the slow lap,” Gojo feels himself say back. The truth is that they haven’t really got the setup right and he feels out of touch. On a lot of tracks, that would be fine, but here, where the most minute mistakes send you into a wall, it’s not exactly ideal. 

They send him out first time round on a set of scrubbed softs: P3, behind Yuuji and Yuuta. Megumi behind him by two hundredths. When the new softs get bolted on, Gojo knows it’s now or never. 

“Outlap critical,” Shoko says, level and calm and Gojo loves her, really. “You have two minutes to get across the line,” 

“Copy,” 

The car thrums beneath him. Gojo isn’t like some of the drivers, who describe it like a living thing. Something that breathes and jolts and lives. To him, it’s a machine. But it’s still something that requires taming, requires a soft touch, like an animal. 

There’s a Sengoku in front of him as he crosses the line for his last lap, and Shoko is immediately on the radio to clarify, “that’s Inumaki, he’s just finished a lap, you are clear ahead,” 

Gojo mentally thanks him for the tow down into turn one, finds clean air, and surrenders himself to it. 

There’s nothing more exhilarating than driving on the limit. He remembers a conversation with Riko, right after her first qualifying session in G1, where she’d torn her helmet off and said, panting, “oh my God, that was terrifying. I want to go again, I lost time in sector three, and I hit a curb through turn three-” 

He knew then that she’d be alright in G1. That she’d be competitive, despite not winning in the feeder series. As a driver, you stare down the limit, cross over it, and fight the fear that comes with it. Laugh in the face of the limits and pretend they don’t exist. 

But here’s the thing: the greatest drivers don’t feel fear at all. Gojo never has. And you can argue that adrenaline is a hell of a drug, but it doesn’t work on everyone. 

Getou never felt fear, either. He never backed off because he was scared of what could happen if he pushed to the limit. He was a formidable qualifier. He remembers Nanami, after his first qualifying session in the Jujutsu, saying he was scared to push to the limit because the car was so different, and Gojo knew then that he’d never be challenged for a championship so long as he was his teammate. 

You have to know when to give yourself over to it. To the feeling of speed, the gravity pulling at your bones. And Gojo does that now. 

He shifts up, up, up into seventh, flying through to turn five, breaking and staying clean. He glances at his steering wheel: two tenths up. 

The pull through turn six burns and he loves it. The car sings beneath him, and he feels the wheel shake with every bump on the road. 

Braking into turn seven, he braces, pulls away. As soon as he does, Shoko is on the radio, “twenty-five-eight, purple sector, keep pushing,” 

Gojo doesn’t reply, and in the time she talks, he’s already pulling away from turn nine, holding his breath between his teeth. The car still feels just out of touch, but he’s fast, he can tell. He glances at his steering wheel: negative delta as he navigates the low speed corners. Ten, eleven, twelve, the hairpin at thirteen. 

“Sector two purple, thirty-seven-eight, come on,” 

Turn fifteen, sixteen, seventeen. Gojo feels like he’s holding his breath, bracing. He’s on for a pole lap. He needs this so desperately, here. He wants to lead Singapore from start to finish, a track that has loved him so dearly all his years on the grid. 

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. The car responds, even if Gojo has to drag it through the low speed corners with a vengeance and a set jaw. 

He pulls away from turn twenty-one, and gets on the throttle, choking it. 

In the final corner, it all goes wrong. 

 

—

 

IERI: Gojo, are you okay?

[pause]

IERI: Gojo, are you okay?

 

GOJO: [groans] Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. God, sorry. 

 

IERI: Can you get out?

 

GOJO: Uh, maybe? Um-

 

IERI: Sit tight, medical car is on its way. 

 

—

 

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3: where’s your hotel this week?

Suguru ICE <3 <3 <3: That looked awful, let me know if you’re okay. 

 

—

 

May 2014, Spain

 

Gojo wins in Bahrain: the tiebreaker. Everyone seems to have something to say about it. About who is better in a G1 car, about who’s the better driver. What doesn’t get mentioned in the press is Gojo’s party habits and the fact that Suguru finds him in bed with a man in their shared hotel room at God-knows-what-time after, and stumbles down the hall to Shoko because he doesn’t want to deal with it. 

In China, Gojo comes second to Utahime, and Getou comes fourth behind Haibara. He doesn’t stick around to watch the podium, and the points gap grows. 

The media is nothing if not short-sighted, so they bare down with intensity on it, asking question after question about their relationship, the fight between them, the fight for the title. 

Suguru holds his head between his knees in his drivers’ room after finishing second in Spain, but still only one place ahead of Gojo, tries not to throw up, and shakes with the effort of it all. 

Most of his diet now consists of smoothies or soup. He struggles keeping solid food down, and his calorie intake is the lowest it can be without pushing his body into starvation mode. 

The smoking helps, he’s ashamed to say. He doesn’t want to be like this: he feels weak all the time, but this is how it has to be if he wants to stay light enough to win championships. Gojo, in comparison, can eat whatever he wants as long as he stays healthy and he stays lean, light. His smile is blinding on the podium, spraying down Utahime in champagne. His canines catch on his lower lip, turning them red along with his flushed cheeks. 

He’s one place above him in the race: it is not enough. The gap between them closes slightly: it is not enough. 

He’s second in the championship standings, and it is not enough. 

He’s hungry. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Singapore

 

There are four types of extrication in Grade one. There’s self-extrication, where a driver can get out by themselves, climbing out over the halo and onto the concrete. Then, the scenarios gt worse. Sometimes they pull out the whole seat - seat extrication- , or if the seat is broken, they’ll help the driver out - slow driver only extrication. 

Gojo has to be helped out. The seat is cracked under the impact, and whilst it doesn’t hurt, he can’t wiggle himself free, either. The team pulls him out, bundles him into the medical car, and that’s that. His helmet sits beside him on the seats as he looks out through tinted windows. 

There’s a worst case scenario - a fast driver only extrication. He’s only had it happen to him once, legs trapped under where the car had been sent careening into the barrier, car crumpled around him. He doesn’t remember much, only Shoko’s voice, panicked in his ears, and the smell of burning. It had taken him out for two races afterward, and that title had been hard to claw back, but he’d done it. They called him untouchable. 

He still has burns from it, on the backs of his knees. Not like anyone ever sees them, but- still. 

Gojo- Satoru- are you okay? Respond, please. 

The air leaves his lungs slowly. The car isn’t in good shape. It was crumpled on the right side. The mechanics definitely hate him, and they’re definitely going to have to break curfew. 

The medics check him for a concussion, finding nothing except mild bruising. Cleared to race tomorrow. Shoko sighs, hugs him, lets him slump into her. Pathetic, really. 

“You scared me.” 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s our job to scare each other, I think,” she mumbles, and Gojo exhales, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I think I’m done scaring you,” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I- I need to be done with it.” 

She turns to him. The world roars around them, standing in its centre, tired. “You mean racing?” 

Gojo tips his head to the side. “I don’t know who I am without it, but- I can’t keep doing this to you, I care about you.” 

“This isn’t about me,” Shoko breathes. “This is- racing is everything, to both of us. I’d be naive to say it isn’t.” 

“Isn’t it about you? Us?” 

Shoko stares at him for a long time. “Yeah. It is.”

“I want to just be us. We can’t- I can’t do that whilst I’m still racing.” 

Shoko laughs, “I’d tell you to not make that decision for me, but I don’t think that’s fair, anymore.” 

Gojo softens. “Yeah, it isn’t.” 

Maybe it's the painkillers that makes him cry for the second time in twelve hours. 

 

—

 

GOJO SUFFERS CRASH IN Q3, ITADORI ON POLE: Singapore Grand Prix Qualifying Round-Up

 

GOJO CRASHES OUT IN Q3, CLEARED TO RACE

 

GOJO WILL START IN P8 FOLLOWING CRASH IN Q3: SINGAPORE

 

—

 

Yuuji sidles up next to him right before the anthems after he’s avoided every reporter in the pitlane and ducked away from Yuki wanting a quote from him. He’s disinterested, he’s focused, he’s locked in. He has a race ahead of him that is going to end up being incredibly influential if Yuuji wins, or even if he podiums. They have to strategise, and they have to control the damage done by qualifying yesterday. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay, kid. Your lap for pole was good, you deserve it.” 

“Thanks.” Still, he glows at the praise. Gojo smiles at him. And then Yuuji seems to remember he has something to ask, “um. Getou was worried about you, last night. On the way back to the hotel. Thought you should know.” 

Gojo hums, “sure.” 

“Did you fight?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, and it shuts him up right as the anthems start. 

 

—

 

They decide to start him on the mediums. It will sacrifice some pace to start with, but with the tyre management and Gojo’s defending, Shoko points out that staying out longer in the first stint could prove a massive advantage. 

It works: Gojo gets into P5 by the time he pits for hard tyres, but the race changes because, up the field, Megumi manages an overtake on Yuuji, and he knows he can’t take this from him. 

“Prioritise Megs if you need,” Gojo says, down the radio, “he should have this, keep me updated,” 

“Copy,” Shoko says, and the race continues. 

And then there’s a safety car on lap forty-six, where Nanami pulls up after a loss of power and the car has to be removed. Gojo ends up P4 in the order, pitting for a new set of mediums, and Megumi gambles on the soft, ahead of him in P2. 

The race starts again on lap fifty-three. 

 

—

 

POST-RACE RADIO TRANSCRIPT - SINGAPORE GP 2022

 

FUSHIGURO: OH MY GOD! 

KAMO: That is P1, P1! What a drive, Megumi, that was incredible. 

FUSHIGURO: I can’t believe it. Thank you for gambling on the soft, I wouldn’t have got past him otherwise. 

KAMO: Brilliant defending and tyre management out there. Congrats.

 

ITADORI: Oh, I’m ****ed about the win, but that was insane. 

TODOU: Strategy got the better of you on that one.

ITADORI: Well played! 

 

IERI: That’s P3, Gojo. Great damage control, great restart.

GOJO: Megs won?

IERI: Yes. Megumi P1, Yuuji P2. 

GOJO: I’m so proud of him, oh my God. Same circuit as my first win, that's incredible. 

 

—

 

Time is a flat circle. Gojo watches in parc ferme as Megumi stands atop the car, shaking. His visor is still flipped down, but from th other side, from P2, Yuuji goes. He’s running, too, throwing himself up at Megumi, tackling him down off the nose of the car and hugging him, hard. 

There’s a moment where Gojo thinks about shielding them, but he supposes no one knows how much this means to them apart from themselves. The broadcasters get a hug. The media gets a taste of their friendship. But no one else knows what that moment is. And in that way, Gojo thinks, it’s theirs, and theirs alone. He tears his eyes away. 

Getou is at the barriers. Of course he is, his driver came in P2 and shrunk the gap between them again. But his gaze catches on Gojo, with his visor flipped up, hands limp by his sides. 

Somewhere in the depths of his mind, Gojo hears the screeching of tyres, the full-body sensation of the tyres locking up, the beginning of the spin. He looks at Getou, with his hair down, still solid under Singapore lights. 

In his mind, he tries to rectify the spin, the snap of understeer, the feeling of losing control. He’s been trying for a long time, maybe. It’s no use. 

Getou smiles at him. 

Gojo feels the weight of it: the inevitability. This is going to hurt. This is going to hurt. This is going to-

He puts his hands on the wheel. He turns, lowers his gaze, and walks away. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND EIGHTEEN- TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	326
2	Yuuji ITADORI	Scuderia Keicho	276
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU	Scuderia Keicho	264
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	264
5	Nanami KENTO	Sengoku	205
6	Toge INUMAKI	Sengoku	150
7	Mei MEIJI	Haein	92
8	Mai ZENIN	Meiji	94
9	Nobara KUGISAKI	Meiji	87
10	Iori UTAHIME	Kyoto G1 Team	63

OFFICIAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND EIGHTEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing	590
2	Scuderia Keicho	540
3	Sengoku	355
4	Meiji	181
5	Haein	104
6	Kyoto G1 Team	75

 

—

 

Notes:

warnings: mentions of drug use, graphic descriptions of eating disorders, crashes and injury.

track in this chapter is Marina Bay Circuit, Singapore.

IRL f1 is going fucking batshit insane rn. wdym helmut could be suspended from Red bull? what the hell! anyways happy 7th in a row leclerc front row, and 5th in a row leclerc/verstappen front row. hope the race eats. manifesting a leclerc podium, sainz recovery, and ollie bearman scoring points on debut<3

come find me on tumblr! this fic is going on hiatus for a little while whilst i sort out my uni work, but ill still be active there :3

Chapter 19: xix - porpoising

Summary:

A violent bouncing on the suspension at high speeds, caused by aerodynamic factors where either the leading edge of the floor, or the front wing, is pushed ever closer to the ground as the downforce acting upon it increases. The closer to the ground it gets, the more powerful the ground effect is, as the air rushes ever-faster through the shrinking gap.

Notes:

FORZA FERRARI SIEMPRE!!!!! carlos and charles you're both incredible, aus24 is ours baby
warnings in end notes for those who need. enjoy.

May 2014, Monaco

 

Coming back to Monaco is weird. Weird because it’s a home race, so they’re all in their apartments instead of hotels, weird because Haibara is staying in his home, and weird because it’s Monaco. 

Because the last time they were here, Riko won. Now she isn’t here. And they’re going to go out and race, and journalists are going to ask about it. How he feels, having lost a friend. 

Yuki invites herself over on the first night, after Gojo drags Haibara out to some nightclub across town and Getou refuses to go. She potters around the kitchen, somewhere just out of sight whilst Suguru lights a cigarette. Not like she’ll tell anyone, is it? 

“Do you have anything in this fridge?” Yuki huffs, opening a cupboard door, “or anything in your house? Like, at all?” 

Suguru lets the smoke blow into the air in front of him, scrolling on his phone. “I usually get meals made and delivered in batches. I don’t really cook.” 

“I’ll go and get some food from a shop,” Yuki frowns, “you okay for half an hour?” 

“We can get something delivered if you want,” Suguru hums, “Mick’s bringing over my meals for the next few days later.” 

“I was going to cook for you,” Yuki hums back, completely ignoring all the signals that Suguru is trying to give her. She’s not this obtuse, Suguru knows that, so- “I have this recipe which I need someone to try,” 

“Yuki, I really can’t- I can’t eat outside the meal plan. My weight is like, really hard to manage.” 

Turning to Suguru, Yuki frowns. “You’ve lost weight, though. You keep losing weight. You’re lighter than Gojo.” 

Suguru doesn’t ask her how she knows that. She knows a lot of things that she shouldn’t. She knows far too much for a regular journalist, but he supposes she’s still in every team’s back pocket. Every week there’s a new rumour about her return to driving. A good majority of teams on the grid would sign her next week, if they had the opportunity. 

“I need to be lighter than Gojo.” 

Yuki presses her lips together, and blinks at him slowly. “Let me make this for you? We’re still a week out. It won’t affect your weight by race day.” 

Suguru feels sick. He feels sick that someone is so close to noticing, he feels sick that he’s being met with concern instead of praise for his weight. What if they tell him this is unsustainable? He can’t go back to how things were before, when he was heavier, trying to find seconds out on track that he just couldn’t, compared to Gojo. 

“Yuki, I really-” 

She huffs, “no. I’m making food. You can have a serving, if you want. And you will, because I’m an amazing cook,” 

Suguru looks at the dying cigarette in his hands, and nods. “Okay,” 

“And you better not be smoking when I get back. I don’t care what you do but it stinks,” 

She waltzes out the door and Suguru puts it out. Takes a deep breath. 

It won’t matter on race day. It won’t matter on race day. It won’t-

 

—

 

The food is good, to Suguru’s displeasure and Yuki’s glee, even if he only eats half his portion. 

 

—

 

There’s a ton of cameras pointing at them as they sit out near the water. None of them filming: it’s only Wednesday, so the coverage hasn’t started yet. They’re probably just photographers. 

Still, it’s unnerving. 

But Haibara, Nanami and Gojo seem largely unbothered. Gojo is crunching loudly on an apple, sunglasses pushed all the way up his nose. Haibara is sitting far too close to Nanami for it to be acceptable, but they all get away with a lot under the guise of being close friends, Suguru supposes. 

“There’s rain forecast for Sunday, did you see?” Haibara says, eyes wide, “but not until like, the last half.”

Gojo wrinkles his nose, “we won’t know until Saturday, or when we can actually see it on our radars.” 

Haibara huffs and leans back in his chair. “Y’know, I’m just trying to debate the merits of strategy with you.” 

“I don’t care about strategy. That’s Yaga’s job. I just drive,” 

“You do care about strategy,” Suguru blurts, because Gojo does. He debates the merits of certain tyres over others in meetings, the loss of time in pitstops, how they can make something alternative work. 

Sure, he’s not as serious about it as Suguru is. He doesn’t have a notebook, he doesn’t often write anything down about the car, and he’s annoyingly casual, but he cares.

“Not when I’m in the car.” Gojo mumbles, like he’s been caught out, “then it’s up to them. They know what they’re doing,” 

Suguru supposes that’s true, but now more than ever, he gets updates on the pace, the people behind him, the pit windows. He’s always trying to find an opportunity to make up places himself, thinking about the strategy whilst taking the corners. 

A fresh wave of jealousy burns through him. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Japan

 

They touch down in Japan in the depths of Tuesday morning, still in darkness and in the cold. The runway is solid beneath Gojo’s feet, and he pulls his hood up over his head. 

Haibara yawns somewhere behind him, and he can hear Megumi’s heavy steps paired with Toto’s claws scratching on the concrete. He thinks Haibara might be going home to his parents with Nanami. He always used to live close to Suzuka. 

Shoko bumps shoulders with him. “You okay?” 

Gojo nods, “yeah.” 

 

—

 

He always forgets how much Japan loves Getou until he’s in it. Until the chatter of Japanese is everywhere and they’re clamouring all around him and his eyes crease from smiling and speaking in his mother tongue. 

Gojo has always kind of wanted to tell people that Japanese is his mother tongue, too, but he can’t quite believe it enough himself to say it. He spoke three languages by the time he was ten. Getou only learnt English in his teens. 

So it’s always weird coming back here, giving answers in Japanese, speaking it all week, and still not being considered home. He watches as Getou gets stopped again for a photo, and he twirls the bracelets on his wrist. 

He wonders if Getou went home to his mom’s house. He wonders if he even still talks to her. He didn’t talk much about her, back when they were racing. Gojo didn’t feel like it was his place to ask, at the time. 

Looking back, he wishes he did. 

Getou turns to him with a raised eyebrow and stops. “Are you following me?” 

No, Gojo wants to shout. Our motorhomes are just side by side. It’s media day, I’ve got shit to do. Instead, he shrugs, “sure.” 

“Ah, that’s why I could feel you over my shoulder,” Getou smiles, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Tense. Good to know Gojo isn’t the only one. 

“Nanako’s driving this week,” Gojo says, to fill the silence. That’s the one thing he does know: she’s taking Yuuta’s spot for FP1, fulfilling the requirement that teams must run a rookie at least once a year. Jujutsu Tech is waiting til the end of the season, running two rookies in Abu Dhabi. They’re one of the only teams to do it with both slots. Sengoku is running a rookie this weekend, so Nanami isn’t driving in FP1. 

“Yes. She’s excited,” Getou smiles. He’s warm in a way he hasn’t been, in a way he’s not, usually, when he talks about them. About the twins. 

It’s not Nanako’s first time in a G1 car: she’s been testing with Keicho and Nara since last year: tyre tests, testing old cars, the like. But it will be her first time in a free practice session. She’ll drive again in Abu Dhabi: Yuuji’s seat. 

“What about Mimiko?” 

Getou’s lip curls. “Nara keep saying they’ll have her a drive in Abu Dhabi, but they’ve also promised their academy driver two practices, so. We don’t know.” 

“Sorry.” 

Getou turns to him. Just slight, but enough that his chest faces him. “Why’re you sorry? It’s not your fault that trying to get rookies in is like pulling teeth, these days,” 

Gojo shrugs. “I’ve had my seat a long time.” 

“You’re still performing,” Getou laughs, “it’s not your issue. There’s definitely a few drivers who need to give up their seats, though. Could be solved with more teams, but the higher-ups don’t wanna do that, so.” He rolls his shoulders back, casual, “there are plenty of rookies who won’t get a shot. It’s just– it’s harder when it’s a rookie you care about.” 

“I could probably pull some strings, get her a drive,” Gojo hums, contemplatively, a half-formed thought that has the misfortune of stumbling out of his mouth. Getou stops. 

“Like you did for me?” His face is shuttered, cold. Gojo studies it. He knew how much it pissed him off, at the time, but now, seeing it out in the open, raw? 

“Can I have a photo?” It’s a kid, with missing teeth and a too-large cap pulled over his curls. Getou stops, looks past him at the dad, who’s standing holding a phone, smiling shyly. 

“Sure,” Getou says, crouching down as Gojo steps back, and then the kid looks between the two of them and looks up at Gojo. 

“Can you be in it, too? You’re my favourite driver, I really want you to win this year,” 

Gojo takes a deep breath and ducks down into frame. Smiles for the camera. The dad nods his head, thanks them both, and takes the kid’s hand. They look back at the two of them, returning to their full heights slowly. 

Getou sets his jaw. Gojo looks at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” 

Running a hand over his face, Getou sighs. His jaw goes slack. “I know you didn’t mean harm, Satoru, but- God. I need to do this for her, not you,” 

“I’d be doing this for you, though,” Gojo says, stupidly, like a kid. 

“You still would?” 

“Yes.” Without hesitation. 

“That’s not fair,”

Gojo scoffs, turning away, and Getou grabs him, follows him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that-” 

“Leave it.” Gojo snaps, teeth bared, “fucking save it. I’ve only ever wanted to help you, you know that?” 

“Yes, I do. And it still stings that I couldn’t follow you by myself. You know what it’s like? To have everyone reminding you you’ll only ever be second best? That your career was a charity case?” 

“Your career-” Gojo stumbles over his words, trying to find what he wants to say. “You won a world championship– you almost had, like, three more. You’re the only driver ever to never lose a constructor’s–” 

“I don’t have three more, though. I have one. People think I’m a coward, for running from you. From the challenge of you,” 

“You did run from me-” 

“Do you know how much it takes from someone, to go against you? You make it effortless,” 

“You made it effortless, too, you know? You were almost a champion in your first season-” 

Getou laughs, hollow, “but I wasn’t. Was I?” 

Gojo doesn’t have an argument for that. He has nothing left to offer. An almost championship is not a championship, and an almost race winning car is not a race-winning car. He knows both of these things well. But he knows how Suguru will take his silence, and it’s not how he wants him to take it-

Getou is walking away. Gojo’s been bracing for this, hands tucked close to his body, but he can’t let it happen again. Not without trying, at least. 

“Tell Nanako good luck from me.” 

Getou looks, takes him in. “Okay,” 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE ONE - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji ITADORI (Scuderia Keicho), Nobara KUGISAKI (Meiji) & Miwa KASUMI (Haein) – Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome, welcome, Miwa, I’ll start with you, not the best result last weekend, how are you feeling about it? 

MIWA KASUMI: Uh, not great to be honest. I think I said everything I wanted to say about the strategy and everything- I could’ve scored a couple points maybe, and that chance was taken from me, so. 

Q: How are you feeling coming here, then? Is this a chance for a do-over? 

MK: Unlikely, unfortunately, since the track here just isn’t really suited to us as much as Singapore was. The front runners are going to be too strong. I mean, last week, Sengoku had both of their cars out, and that gave us an opportunity we couldn’t capitalise on. 

Q: Okay, Nobara, coming to you. A big points finish last week, in fifth, which equals the best finish of your career so far. How did it feel out there? 

NOBARA KUGISAKI: It felt good. I mean, like Miwa said, there was the double DNF from Sengoku, which certainly helped us out. I don’t think we would’ve finished as high as we did without that having happened. 

Q: Last week you placed higher than your teammate for the fourth time in a row. Is that something you’re thinking about? 

NK: Sure. It’s a good feeling, of course, but I just want to focus and keep scoring points for the team. 

Q: Okay, Yuuji! Second last week, and your points tally is creeping up, how are you feeling? 

YUUJI ITADORI: Good! I like Singapore, so I felt really good going in on pole. Strategy just got the better of me, but honestly I was so happy for Megs that I kinda forgot about it!

Q: You two were pretty fun to watch on the podium. 

YI: Thanks!

Q: With that P2 finish, you’re now exactly fifty points behind Gojo in the standings. Do you think he’s someone that can be caught, at this stage?

YI: Yes, but I need a bit of luck on my side. I’m definitely the underdog right now. 

Q: And finally, Gojo. Tough race last week. 

SATORU GOJO: Yeah. I mean- I’ve said everything I can about it to the press. It’s partly my fault, for messing myself up so badly in quali. We’ll move forward. 

Q: Are you worried about the points gap closing over the last few races? 

SG: I still have my sights set on the title. The battle isn’t over until it's over, and with Yuuji’s form, it’s looking like that battle will go until the last race. We’re prepared for anything. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Grade One Daily): To Gojo and Nobara, there’s been a lot of speculation since Singapore about the states of both of your contracts, in particular about the proposed move of Nobara to Jujutsu Tech next season. Gojo, is the team pushing you out for new talent, and Nobara, are you in the running for the seat? 

SG: Damn. Nobara, you wanna go first?

NK: I can’t comment on any contract negotiations at this stage, and rumours are just that- rumours. 

SG: [to Kugisaki] You’re diplomatic. [sighs] Uh, well, I thought I had a bit more time to wait, make a proper announcement, but– I very likely will not race next season. The team wanted– wants to retain me, but racing is something that I think you can only dedicate yourself to for so long. And I’ve hit a wall. I am physically- I could race for five more seasons. But- to continue at this level, I don’t think many people understand what it takes. From you. From your relationships. It’s a complicated thing, but next year- it’ll be a sabbatical, at the very least. 

Q: So, not a retirement, yet? 

SG: Well. Depends if I win the championship, right? 

 

—

 

May 2014, Monaco

 

It happens in the final free practice before qualifying. It’s quick, brutal, and sparks fly. Suguru shouldn’t be as close as he is, in the end, trying to pick up a slipstream, but Haibara’s car spins, going sideways into the barriers, and Suguru cannot avoid following him. The impact hurts, but it’s bearable. 

He clambers from the cockpit, and sees Haibara not moving in the car. His stomach sinks. 

Call it a gut instinct, call it catastrophizing. He knows, and when he sees the debris on the track, the bottom of Haibara’s car torn to shreds, it only solidifies it. When he turns, the red flags are already out.

There’s smoke, and he moves before he thinks, really, pulling Haibara from the car and switching the engine off as stewards point fire extinguishers at it. Haibara’s speaking, but its muffled. And then he realises that Haibara’s whole body is leant against his. 

“Getou-” he lifts his visor, and his hands are shaking. Suguru flips his own up, to see, to try and hear him better. “My leg-” 

Suguru looks down, then looks back up, because there’s blood, and he might be sick. 

“I can’t see it, is it bad?” 

“Let’s just wait for the medical car,” 

Haibara sucks air through his teeth, and someone else tries to pry Suguru away, but he won’t let them. Not like with Riko. “I need to go to medical too, probably, I can hold him.” 

Haibara takes another deep, shuddering breath, and blinks, hard. “That really hurts,” 

Suguru sees the medical car on the horizon, and nods, “I know, but they’ll sort you out, I promise.” 

 

—

 

His whole body won’t stop heaving. It shudders, hands clutching at the toilet bowl. He needs to throw up, his brain is telling him, but there’s nothing there. His throat is sore. 

The door opens somewhere behind him. There’s footsteps. Suguru doesn’t move - there’s nothing left in his body to make him move. 

Knees hit the floor beside him, and then there’s a hand at the nape of his neck pulling his hair away from his face, and a voice, “Suguru,” 

Suguru blinks his eyes open, murmurs, “Satoru,” 

“You look horrible,” it’s soft, and it’s Japanese, and Suguru shuts his eyes, lets himself pretend, that just for a moment, they aren’t here. That they aren’t two of the best drivers in the world, pitted against each other for a title. Somewhere in Japan with his dad outside, a normal job that doesn’t take them across the world, a life together in the sun. 

“Suguru, you–” fingers card through his hair, twisting, “quali’s in, like, forty-five minutes. They sent me to get you–” 

They’re not in Japan, though, they’re in Monaco, where the sun is bright and the sea gleams. Their apartments are worth millions, each. Gojo isn’t built for a small town life, he’s built for this. Glitz and glamour and racing, parties until the sun is up in the sky again. Suguru is the one who chose to follow him: now he has to live with it. 

“I’ll be okay,” his own voice is hoarse, but he leans back, already feeling calmer. It settles over him like ice. 

“Are you sure? I mean- like this- it’s dangerous to get in the car,” Gojo frowns, picking at the skin on his knuckles, “I can talk to Yaga, or Gakuganji, they’ll understand-” 

“What, and start from twentieth in Monaco?” Suguru laughs, “that’s a waste,” 

There’s a long pause. 

“They think Haibara will be okay, you know? They’re gonna do surgery.” 

“I know, they told me,” the words don’t feel like his own, and Gojo, across from him, frowns. 

“Do you?” 

Suguru stands up, brushing his hands on his trousers, swallowing down the bile in his throat. “Yes.” 

Gojo stays on the floor. “You’re scaring me, man, come on. A race result isn’t worth killing yourself,” 

“You think I’m going to crash? That I’m that bad of a driver?” 

“What? When did I say- Suguru, you’re the only driver here that’s anywhere near as good as me, you know that, right?” 

Something in him boils. “Yeah, I’m aware. So why are you trying to convince me to not drive?” 

Slowly, Gojo pushes himself up off the floor, and Suguru hears the pop of joints as he does. “I’m not. Just don’t put it in the wall,” 

 

—

 

October 2022, Japan

 

“You’re aware you’re a PR nightmare, right?” 

Gojo winces, and flashes a tentative grin at Yaga. “Sorry?” 

“It does mean we can be more open about talking to drivers now,” Yaga acquiesces, pinching his eyebrows, “but it would have been nice to have been more informed about your announcement,” 

“Sorry,” Gojo says, but honestly? 

“He’s not sorry, look at him,” Shoko grins, shoving his arm so that Gojo half-topples out of his chair, laughing. Yaga groans. 

To tell the truth, it’s been on the tip of his tongue for a while. It’s been waiting to bubble out of him, until there was something pushing him to reveal it. Until he could be sure that he didn’t want to carry on. He’s left a door open, sure, by saying it’s a sabbatical rather than a retirement, but- still. He’s not naive. JTR won’t have an open seat for him. He won’t come back to winning championships. It just won’t be an option. 

Unless, by some miracle, JTR keeps an open seat for him. Which– he’s not sure how he’d feel about that. It would require one of their young drivers to give up a seat. Either Megumi, or whoever they sign alongside him. Likely Nobara. 

There won’t be any open seats at Keicho, either, since both Yuuji and Yuuta are signed for the team until the end of 2024. And with the current regulations it’s looking unlikely that any other team will be competitive until at least 2026. And Gojo will be– he’s not sticking around until 2026. Not when his family is here, in this team. A team he’s built, pretty much. 

He thinks about what Nanami said. The coaching. He could see himself doing– something like that, maybe. Management roles are becoming more and more prevalent with the amount of advertising and media work that the drivers do nowadays. 

He enjoys seeing the young drivers coming through. The quality of driving getting better and better.

At the moment it still feels like a leap of faith, staring down the rocky cliff face and squinting at the water. But now he’s got to jump. He can’t back out, turn away, turn around.

Yaga sighs across from him. “Well, we were talking to Nobara, anyway,” he looks to Megumi, “but d’you have a preference for teammates, kid?” 

Megumi looks like he’s been shot, not asked for an opinion. “What? Um. I dunno, I’ll drive with whoever you sign.” 

“Well, since you’re under contract, you will,” Yaga huffs, “but you must have a preference.” 

“Uh-” Megumi looks at Gojo, eyes wide, and then back to Yaga, “Nobara’s good.” 

Gojo laughs out loud, and Shoko smacks him on the arm, hard. 

 

—

 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Gojo yawns, stretching out his legs in the car. It’s dark, or– getting there. He can see the sun dipping away in the horizon through their tinted windows. 

“Sure, kid.” 

Megumi bristles slightly, but doesn’t rise to the bait. “How did you- how did you decide to announce it here? That you’re retiring,” 

“Taking a sabbatical,” Gojo grins, and Megumi rolls his eyes. 

“Whatever– we both know if you do come back, you’re not gonna get your seat back. You’d feel too bad for Nobara to do that,” 

“D’you want the real answer?” Gojo sighs, rolling his shoulders back, “I don’t think through a lot of things, but I did with this one,” 

It had still been a rather impulsive thing to do, but Megumi already knows that. He scoffs, “shocker.” Then, much more quietly, “yes. I do.” 

“Your win in Singapore. Jujutsu Tech is in good hands without me, and if they build another car like they have this year, next year you’ll be a championship contender. The last time we saw talent like that was– well, with Getou, really, if you exclude Yuuji.” 

Megumi’s face does this weird thing where he tries to justify someone complimenting him. It’s like watching a child gain consciousness for the first time, gaining object permanence. “Yuuta?”

“He was never gonna stay.” Gojo says, “he was always aiming for the Keicho seat.” 

“Why?” 

“He didn’t want to try and stay to beat me, probably. And then he got Yuuji as a teammate anyway. But Keicho– every driver dreams of driving for them, y’know?” 

“You don’t.” 

“I don’t, no. I don’t think you do, either,” 

Megumi shakes his head. “I want to drive wherever I can win.” 

Gojo grins, feels every part of his cheek tense with it. “That’s why I like you the best. Don’t tell Yuuji, though,” 

“I won’t,” Megumi huffs, turning away, “he’d make you change your mind, anyway,” 

“The puppy eyes work wonders,” Gojo looks at where Megumi’s cheeks have flushed, just slightly. “So. You two are friends again,” 

Blinking in the dark like a startled cat, Megumi nods. Even before he opens his mouth, Gojo knows what he’s going to say. “Yeah,” 

“Come on, do I not get any details? None at all? Megumi,” 

“I- there’s nothing to tell! We’re- we’re gonna be careful,” 

Oh. That’s new. “Careful?” 

It’s a delight, watching the way Megumi flushes all the way down his neck. “Um-” 

“Well, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone, is it, Megs,” 

“I thought you knew,” 

“I know now,” Gojo hums, looking at Megumi and watching him closely. He doesn’t give very much away. “I can forget, if you want me to.”

“No,” Megumi says, much too quick and tense to be normal about it, “no, I- I think it’s good, that you know. Yuuji would’ve said it at some point anyway. He’s an idiot.” 

Gojo wants to say something more. He wants to offer guidance, a warning to be really careful everywhere, but it hits him that Megumi knows, and- 

Driving in the lower grades is much more publicised than it was when he was a junior. There’s marketing and high-level sponsorships, and they’re pretty much public figures like the grade one drivers before they even get a G1 seat. He’s aware of what it takes, even in his first year. Maybe especially in his first year. Gojo has always had a level of immunity that others haven’t enjoyed. He knows that. 

“I’m happy for you,” he says, instead. Megumi tries to look annoyed with him: embarrassed, maybe, but a smile still fights its way through. 

 

—

 

“Did you speak to Suguru?” 

“Do you really want to do this right before practice,” Shoko drawls, levelling him with a stare. 

“So that’s a yes,” 

“No.” Shoko huffs, “it isn’t a yes. We’ve been texting a bit. I said I’d get some dinner and talk with him when this triple header is done. We’re both exhausted,” 

Gojo hums, rolling his shoulders back. “Okay,” 

“Do you think you should talk to him, too?” Shoko frowns, “it’s clearly bothering you.” 

“It’s not bothering me,” 

Shoko raises a single eyebrow. 

“Okay- no. It’s not. We talked about Nanako this morning,” 

“Oh, she’s in the car today, isn’t she? I’m rooting for her, she’s had some bad luck in G2 this year,”

Gojo hums his agreement. She’s still second in the standings, but- a G1 seat, from second? A tall ask. There’s a lot of talent in the junior leagues right now, and not enough seats. 

Her connections will help her, though. 

“He got mad at me, for offering to put in a good word for her,” 

Shoko’s eyebrow climbs, and she swivels from side to side in her chair. “I’m not surprised. That’s his driver, y’know? Wouldn’t you have been offended if somebody did that to you with Megumi?” 

“No- I want to see him in a seat, if someone was helping him-” 

“I meant poaching him. You wanted him in this team. Getou definitely wants her in Nara, so she can come up to Keicho to replace- well. Whoever leaves first. It’ll probably be Yuuta.” 

Suddenly, it clicks. “Oh. I didn’t mean-” 

“I know, but you two have never quite seen eye to eye on stuff like that. Strange, how you’re so shit at communicating with each other.” 

Gojo grins, “you know what I’m like,” 

“And I know what he’s like, too. God, he was horrible to race engineer for, you know? I never knew what to expect,” 

“I thought you got on okay?” Gojo frowns, because he knew they ended on good terms, but– they worked well together. They were seamless. “You- the car was the best when it was yours, he said,” 

“No, it wasn’t on track,” Shoko sighs, “he was so sick, and so volatile. It was dangerous, letting him go out, sometimes, I had my heart in my throat.” 

“He almost crashed into me in Monaco,” Gojo half-laughs. It’s not funny, and it never was, “he did crash into me here,” 

“At least he crashed himself out, too, that time,” Shoko says, “I was so relieved when he retired.” 

Gojo doesn’t say anything to that. He wasn’t. He’d wanted Getou to come back, race him again and again, maybe with less hunger now that they were both world champions. Instead, he dropped off the face of the earth. 

“Did you think he would ever come back?” 

“No.” It’s definitive, final. “You should probably try and find your helmet, who has it?” 

 

—

 

May 2014, Monaco 

 

Suguru lounges around somewhere in P5 or P6 for the entirety of qualifying, until Shoko tells him, “last run, get your head down Suguru,” and then something clicks. 

He’s only two hundredths off Gojo in the end. 

And it’s still too far away. That’s what he tells the media, anyway, when they ask him about the P2 result. Gojo seems to get the picture, mostly leaving him alone. They don’t speak about before, in his drivers’ room, or anything, really. As they walk back together, Gojo chews on the inside of his cheek, but doesn’t bring it up. 

When he gets back, he throws up again. The acid burns on the way up, but it’s not as bad as before. 

 

—

 

He spends the entire race staring at the back of Gojo’s car, whittling down the gap, gritting his teeth. The gap behind stays steady, but in the last ten laps, it starts to decrease, until Shoko is over the radio saying “gap 0.9, she has DRS,” 

Suguru swears to himself, because he’s only half a second behind Gojo, but he’s too slow. He feels the engine growl beneath him, and he speaks down the microphone, “Gojo needs to speed up, I’m at risk now,” 

“Yeah, copy, I think he’s struggling with tyres,” Shoko says. “If you could hold up Utahime then we can bring the cars home with a one-two,” 

“She’s going to overtake both of us, he’s too slow!” 

There’s a pause: about five seconds. Suguru grits his teeth into a corner where Utahime tries to dive down the inside. He’s lucky this is Monaco: she can’t get the move done.

“We are going to hold position, Suguru, bring it home.” 

There’s a moment where Suguru’s instinct is to shout down the radio, tell them he’s going to lose his position if they don’t let him past, tell them he can give Gojo DRS to make up for it. That there’s eight laps left, and he doesn’t think he can defend from Utahime that long. 

Then he feels it, deep in his chest: the gnawing hunger. Chewing at his insides. He doesn’t talk back over the radio, and instead holds this thumb down, “Shoko? What do I do? I can’t defend from her, her tyres are newer,” 

Shoko’s response is immediate, “hold position, back her up if you can.” 

He waits another two seconds, taking the corner, and then straightens up, “Shoko, you’ve been quiet for a while, can you hear me?” 

“Suguru, hold position, do you copy?” 

Utahime gets close again under braking, and Suguru grits his teeth. His race isn’t with her. It’s with Gojo. It will always be with him, in the end. 

And this is Monaco. 

They cross the line and storm down towards turn one, and he has the slipstream, the DRS, and the advantage, plummeting down towards Saint Devotee. Gojo locks up, and Suguru takes it. 

The clean air is a breath of relief, even as Gakuganji’s voice - a rare occurence - sounds down the radio, “Getou, do you copy? That was stupid,” 

Suguru wants to tell him to fuck himself. But that’s not an option without rendering his excuse useless. 

He’s finally able to pick up the pace, clean air doing wonders, relishing in it. Shoko’s voice doesn’t sound on the radio anymore: for the last five laps, he’s alone, save for the pitboards thrust out in front on the pitlane to tell him the gaps and his position. He pulls away in the end. 

Parc Ferme is alive and moving as one when he stands above the cockpit, legs shaking from the exertion of it. He keeps his visor down, sees Yaga and Shoko and Gakuganji. 

He came into Monaco with an thirteen point gap to Gojo ahead. He watches Gojo pull alongside him, doing the math: he’s only three points behind, now. He jumps from the car, towards his team, and Shoko grabs at his wrists, eyes wide. “You did it,” 

“I couldn’t hear you- it was crackling, just-” Suguru finds himself saying, corroborating his own story. “I’m sorry,” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Shoko’s eyes are creased in the corners. She believes him. Good. “It’s your win, celebrate it,”

He turns, sees Gojo replacing his steering wheel, shoulders hunched over. When he stands up straight, Suguru doesn’t even have to see his eyes to know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t rush over, like he usually does. He stands still for a moment, visor flipped down, but Suguru knows he’s staring. 

Gojo walks over, slow. Their shoulders touch and Gojo’s palm comes to pat his shoulder, a friendly gesture. It’s anything but. 

“I hope you think it was worth it, Getou,” 

Suguru says nothing back. Thinks about the way Gojo used his surname, ruthless, spat out through sharpened teeth. 

He thinks he likes it spoken like that. 

Shoko comes up to the podium with them to accept the constructor’s trophy. She raises it high into the sky, grin on her cheeks, and she deserves this. Truly. He loves her. Gojo douses her in champagne, with Utahime doing the same, and Suguru joining them. Shoko laughs, holding the trophy and wiping it from her eyes. 

They walk to the pool, to the docks, Shoko alongside him, and he strides into the crowds of the team personnel, and they’re cheering his name, his praises, his congratulations. He’s a god among men, the person who delivered this win to them, the person brave enough to disobey. 

He still thinks he likes his name spoken the best from between Gojo’s teeth, spat like venom, like they’re enemies. Like there’s no going back. Like he’s powerful, like he’s actually a threat. 

He’s still in it.

Getou stretches his arms out in front of the pool. Raises his palms to the sky, grins. His feet are at the edge of the water, twitching it.

He’s still in it. 

He leans forward: a swan dive. 

He’s still in it. 

 

—

 

STILL IN IT: GETOU TRIUMPHS IN MONACO, DEFYING TEAM ORDERS / G1 NEWS

Written by Joan Archer, 26th May 2014

 

Jujutsu Tech enjoyed a double podium at the Monaco Grand Prix, with Suguru Getou coming home to take the win, and Satoru Gojo being overtaken in the last lap by Iori Utahime for third place. Utahime, for Keicho, split the two Jujutsu drivers, being the only Keicho car to start the race in the wake of Yu Haibara’s injury in FP3. 

“It’s a great result for the team,” Getou said, “and of course a great result for myself. I needed to prove I could keep up with my teammate, and I have. It’s a great boost to my confidence in myself and in our pace overall, but there’s still a long way to go,” 

Getou’s win came as a result of disobeying a team order to hold position behind his teammate in the final laps, which is already causing controversy. “My radio wasn’t working,” he said on the matter in the post-race press conference, “all I could hear was crackling. I felt under threat from Utahime behind, and Satoru’s pace wasn’t there to be able to protect myself from her. So I made the decision myself, and I didn’t hear the team order.” 

When Gojo was asked about it, he seemed to hold a different opinion, “to be honest, the team fixed any potential radio issues after Australia, when I had the issue. It seems unlikely that it would happen again after we troubleshot it, but I guess it’s possible. It does bring him [Getou] closer to me in the standings, so there’s that.”

Utahime, meanwhile, was pleased with her result: “we maximised what we had. Gojo had issues today and it’s really unfortunate that Haibara was out and we could only run one car, but a P2 is still very good, considering the pace of the Jujutsu. The two previous races where I beat them, they had issues with the power units, so we will see how the season plays out, all three of us are very close in the standings right now.” 

 

DRIVERS’ STANDINGS AFTER ROUND 6

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	116
2	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	113
3	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	110

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

October 2022, Japan

 

It’s late when he hears it. The soft knock on the door. In his sleep-addled state, Gojo thinks it must be Shoko, or Megumi, barely bothering to throw on a T-shirt before he opens it. 

Getou’s standing there instead. 

“Oh.” Gojo says, very eloquently, “it’s you.” 

Getou’s cheeks are flushed, and his shirt is open slightly on his chest, necklace glinting in the hollow on his throat. “You’re retiring.” 

Gojo stares. “Yeah. Probably.” 

They’ve never been able to hide much from each other, apart from - maybe - the things that mattered the most. This has been a long time coming, really. Satoru can’t keep going like this. 

Suguru steps forward, over the threshold into Satoru’s space. He steps back to accommodate him, and lets himself breathe. 

“You’re done with racing?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Why? They want to renew you, the car will be strong enough to win an eighth, or a seventh, if you don’t win this season.” 

“Why did you text Shoko?” 

“That’s got nothing to do with this,” 

It doesn’t, not really, but it does, all the same. The three of them are as intertwined with each other as they are with motorsport, with the smell of fuel and rain on tarmac. There are supposed to be twenty-two races next season. Gojo isn’t interested in pushing the limits, anymore. 

“Did she tell you I never wanted six championships?” Satoru blurts, looking at the floor. His feet shift. “I never wanted to be the best, I don’t really care-” 

“But you are.” 

“But I am.” Gojo risks a look up, at Getou’s face, where he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I’m the best ever. But I wouldn’t be if you’d raced alongside me for longer,” 

“I think you still would be,” Getou says, and he’s smiling, and Gojo wants to wipe it off him. 

“I don’t care if I would’ve been. We could’ve been– together.” 

Suguru looks slightly in shock, so Gojo carries on, “I wouldn’t have cared about it- I just wanted you to-” 

He gets cut off by Getou’s mouth on his, a bruising thing that has him stumbling back a few steps before he can react properly. He pushes away a fleeting thought about the reaction speeds of drivers, and then pushes Getou away, even though he doesn’t want to. 

“Stop. I’m still- you let me think–” he takes a breath, rolling his lips together, “I kissed you and you let us all think you’d killed yourself,” 

Getou’s chest is heaving. He looks younger, here, in the backdrop of the hotel. “I was never going to kill myself,” 

“That’s-” Gojo says. His tongue feels heavy and useless in his mouth. “That- you hate the idea of me loving you that much? That it made you go back to Japan?” 

Because Getou didn’t go back for three years, before then. Gojo had been sure that he wasn’t even in contact with his mom after his dad died. 

“At the time- I-” Getou looks at the ceiling, and Gojo feels his heart slam along his ribs. 

“What about now?” 

The silence stretches on long enough that Gojo has his answer. “Go. It’s late, and I want to sleep,” 

“Satoru, I didn’t mean-” 

He’s sick of feeling like a kid around Suguru, he’s sick of feeling like he’s begging for the smallest scraps of vulnerability. 

“Go.”

So Getou does. 

 

—

 

Gojo sees a giant cardboard cutout of Yuuji’s face as soon as they get out of the car to head into the paddock for FP3. He points at it, shouting in Japanese to pass it forward so he can sign it. Megumi rolls his eyes at him. 

“You’re actually going to sign it?” 

Gojo laughs, “why not?” 

“It’s a bit stupid, isn’t it?” 

“It’s all stupid, Megs. We drive cars in circles and they come to watch. But this is funny, so I’ll sign it.” 

Megumi stands silent beside him for a moment as the giant head gets passed down the stands, and Gojo stands with his hands out. 

“Can I sign it?” Megumi says, head tipped down and cap shading his eyes. Gojo laughs, because it’s so him, and he bristles in return, “okay, I won’t-” 

“Ooh, what’s this!” Yuuji jumps practically on top of Megumi, grinning wide and toothy with his arms slung over his shoulders. It would be completely platonic if Megumi didn’t turn beet red.

When Gojo looks over, Yuuta and Maki are walking behind, Nobara close by. The other teams must have gotten here at the same time. Yuuta’s sipping through his straw, cap pulled right down over his hair. 

Yuuji tips forward, finally getting a good look at the cutout, and laughs, bright and loud. “Oh my god, is that me?” 

Gojo pops the cap off his pen and signs right in the middle of the cut-out Yuuji’s forehead. The real Yuuji squeezes past Megumi and takes the pen straight out of Gojo’s hands, putting his signature and a handful of messy stars right next to Gojo’s. Then he holds the pen out to Megumi. “Are you going to sign it too?” 

“Just take my pen, why don’t you?” Gojo grins, and Yuuji looks a little bashful as Megumi carefully scrawls his own name on the cutout, and Nobara bugs him for the pen from behind. 

“Sorry, I don’t have one,” he says, which is objectively stupid because this is his home race, with Nobara, and they’re both in high demand. 

“I have a spare,” Megumi says, producing a sharpie from his pocket, and Yuuji beams. 

“Thanks,” there’s a moment where Yuuji just stares, dopey and a bit in love, and Nobara knocks him round the neck to break the moment. 

“Come on, throw it back,” 

“Who’s was it?” Yuuji asks, and Gojo points to the back. Yuuji takes a few steps back, shouting, “watch out!” as if it will make a difference, and launches the cutout like a discus into the crowd. Nobara immediately hits him again. “Ow!” 

“Why did you throw it, you idiot.” 

“How else was I supposed to get it back!” Yuuji yelps, and Gojo watches as Megumi’s eyes crease at the corners and his mouth twitches. Gojo aches for something he never really had, or maybe something he never really appreciated. 

Nobara rolls her eyes, and finally goes to the barriers to start signing things, people clamouring as they hold out caps and posters and flags. Megumi follows her, and Yuuji jumps at the opportunity to follow, grabbing at his hand. Gojo smiles, but reaches out for Yuuji anyway, pulling him away with his hand around his shoulders. Yuuji looks like a kicked puppy, but it’s still necessary. 

“Look, I’m happy for you two-” 

Yuuji doesn’t have the good sense to be even a little embarrassed. He just lights up about it, instead, “he told you?” 

“Yeah, I figured it out. Yuuji, you know the press can’t find out, it’ll ruin your careers,” 

“I know,” Yuuji says, suddenly serious, “we’re being careful.” 

“You need to be more careful.” Gojo finds himself saying, and then Yuuji’s eyes go wide. 

“Are you shovel talking me?” 

Gojo squints at him. “What the hell is a shovel talk,” 

Yuuji laughs, “you don’t know?” 

“No- I-” Gojo feels old. He feels old, for one of the first times since the new cohort of drivers started coming in over the last two years. The cohort that he and Getou and Yuki inspired to drive. “I don’t,”

Yuuji runs over to Nobara to tell her, and Gojo, for the second time in as many days, finds himself feeling out of place at a race that should feel like home. 

But this time, it makes something warm bloom in his chest as he watches them signing things and laughing together. 

 

—

 

JAPANESE GRAND PRIX POST-QUALIFYING PRESS CONFERENCE - TOP THREE FINISHERS - Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome to the top three finishers from qualifying in Japan, in third Megumi Fushiguro, in second Yuuta Okkotsu, and on pole we have Satoru Gojo! Gojo, back on top of qualifying after Singapore, how did it feel out there? 

SATORU GOJO: It feels good. The car is just incredible out here and the support from the fans has been brilliant- even though I don’t drive for Japan, I definitely still feel some of the love for speaking the language. 

Q: Any notes on that lap? It was a new record for this circuit. 

SG: I’m surprised by that. I know my first sector was a bit- I wobbled through turn two. It was still green, right? Yeah, but I was pushing for the rest of the lap to make up for it, but I didn’t think it would be enough. Thought it could be beaten, you know? 

YUUTA OKKOTSU: Humble, aren’t you? 

SG: Very. 

Q: Yuuta I’ll come to you, then. How did your lap feel out there? 

YO: Good. I’m not sure there was much left in it, to be honest. We just don’t have the speed that Jujutsu has this weekend, and our strength will have to be in race trim. 

Q: Have you focussed your setup on that as a team, then? 

YO: Yes, at least on my side of the garage. It was definitely a conscious decision after FP3 when we realised the delta on the quali pace was rather large. 

Q: Lastly, Megumi! A pretty impressive lap from you out there, only three tenths off your world champion teammate. How does it feel? 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: Ah. Well, three tenths in equal machinery is still quite a lot, isn’t it? The lap felt good, I had a similar balance issue through turn two, so I pushed through the last two sectors but I think that I couldn’t make up for it like Gojo could. Maybe it’s experience, but I always want to be closer. 

Q: Well, it was enough for P3. Starting alongside Yuuji tomorrow, who was very close to you, only five thousandths off your time. Are you worried about him getting a better start tomorrow?

MF: It’s a possibility, but that’s for tomorrow and also partly for strategy. We will see what we can do with maintaining a tyre advantage, Yuuji will definitely want a home podium and he’s hungry for it. 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - Motorsport Daily): To Yuuta, this is the first time since Spa that you’ve out-qualified your teammate, is this a turning point in terms of performance and can you bring home a solid result tomorrow? 

YO: Yes, I’m confident I can hold position or challenge Gojo for the win tomorrow. I think it has to be a turning point for me, because I need to prove I am still in this fight and still performing at the same level as him. 

Q: Is this a priority, then? Proving your place in the team?

YO: Yes, and no. I think it’s about proving I’m the driver to trust with consistency and fighting for championships. 

 

—

 

July 2014, England

 

Gojo seems to get his head down after Monaco. They don’t speak as much about the races, they do their track walks separately, and it works. They’re still friends. They still play it up for the media and Gojo laughs with the medals around his neck in Canada and Austria, teeth glinting in the sun. 

Getou looks up at him from the second step both times and thinks about how he’ll get him next time. How Gojo is laying down a challenge for him, waiting for him to throw the punch in return. 

When they arrive at Silverstone on Friday, it’s grey. Gojo bitches about it because he’s going to be called rude even more than usual for wearing his sunglasses. 

“The press doesn’t matter,” Yaga points out, “as long as you drive the way you’ve been driving, they can’t do anything,” 

Gojo huffs and slumps back in his chair. The press does matter, both him and Getou know. The questions they get asked, the mental game of it all. They have to justify it all: why they’re still friends amidst a championship battle, why neither of them are pulling away clear, why they take every action they do out on track and in strategy and- 

Yaga’s era was different. He thinks he understands, but he doesn’t. But that’s okay, he’s not Getou’s race engineer. He’s Gojo’s. So. 

They clamber out into the roar of the crowds. British fans are far too rowdy for Getou’s taste, but he has to admit that the atmosphere gives it a bit of a kick. They bump shoulders: they’re not signing anything today, going straight to the motorhome. 

“You okay?” 

Gojo turns away, flexing his jaw, “yeah. This isn’t my favourite place to be, y’know?” 

“You like Silverstone,” 

“I do- the journalists here aren’t my favourite though,” he laughs, “it’ll be fine, anyway. You’re here,” 

 

—

 

BRITISH GP / FP3 ROUNDUP: INCIDENT BETWEEN FUSHIGURO AND GETOU TRIGGERS PENALTY HANDOUTS

Written by Ana Wooten, July 5th 2014

 

Free Practice Three at the British Grand Prix was not without incident: a collision between Sengoku’s Fushiguro and JTR’s Getou saw the JTR driver collide with the barriers at high speed, and the session was red-flagged and not resumed. 

Fushiguro has already been handed a five-place penalty for impeding, a decision that came after a meeting where both representatives for JTR and Sengoku were present, but Fushiguro has maintained that the incident was not intentional: “I was already weaving, trying to get some heat into my tyres, as he came up behind me. I knew he was on a fast lap, but I expected him to take a different line to the one he did- it was a racing incident, and I’m sad to get a penalty from it.” 

Meanwhile, frantic work continues on Getou’s car #73 to repair the damage in time for qualifying this afternoon, but it’s already looking likely that he won’t be able to drive in that session, which would be a devastating blow for him, considering he currently sits second in the standings coming into this Grand Prix… (READ MORE)

 

—

 

Getou has to start from the back of the grid on Sunday, which isn’t something he is willing to take. It’s a hard pill to swallow isn’t it? a journalist tells him, and he squints at them. 

“Good thing I’m not swallowing it, then.” 

“You think a recovery drive is possible?” 

“Of course it is,” 

He stands next to Gojo in the anthems, and takes deep, steadying breaths. 

One. 

He walks to his car, avoiding reporters. 

Two. 

Lowers himself into the cockpit. 

Three. 

“Radio okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Four.

Formation lap. He lines up last on the grid, already thinking about how to overtake, get away clean, make up places. 

“Focus on the lights, let’s get this done.” 

“Copy.” 

Five. 

Lights out. Getou slams his foot on the throttle. 

 

--

 

BRITISH GP ROUNDUP: GOJO ON TOP STEP, GETOU STEALS THE SHOW

GETOU’S RECOVERY DRIVE SEES HIM IN P3 FROM P20

Getou recovery speaks volumes to who he is as a driver - JTR Team Principal

GOJO: “Getou’s drive was better than mine this weekend”

 

—

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	191
2	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	164
3	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	155

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

It’s still not enough, though, is it?

 

—

 

October 2022, Japan

 

It feels good, to be starting from pole here. The last time he did was back in 2018, and the time before that was 2014. He doesn’t have the best record of qualifying in Suzuka. 

He ends up next to Nobara during the anthems, who is swaying her hips to the tune, along with Yuuji next to her. Gojo takes off the cap of the grid kid in front of him, and puts it in her outstretched hands. She looks up at him, eyes wide, and whispers, “good luck,” 

Gojo smiles, says thanks, ruffles her hair. 

The last few moments before a race start always feel like a stretch of time spent in limbo, walking across tarmac and lowering himself into his car, and nursing in the softs on a careful formation lap. He flips his visor up, then down again on the start line, watching the lights. 

One, two, three, four, five, and away they go. The engine roars beneath him, vibrating through his bones. In moments like this, he almost forgets why he wants to retire at all: if this is all it was, he wouldn’t. If it were just him and the car and the tarmac, he’d do it forever. Until his body gave out. 

But it’s not. 

It’s hotel rooms and planes and being kissed in dark clubs and- 

None of that matters right now, though. What matters now is Shoko’s voice in his ears, calm and measured, telling him he’s out of DRS range by the time the first two laps are done. “Grand chelem?” He jokes over the radio, and Shoko just replies the same way she always does: calm. 

“Keep your head down, let’s pull this gap first.”

Yuuta pits first, attempting the undercut, so they react on lap eighteen, going from the soft to the medium, down the pitlane. It’s tight on re-entry, but he’s ahead of Yuuta, barely. “Outlap critical,” Shoko says, and Gojo grits his teeth. 

“No shit,” he glances in his wing mirrors, seeing the flash of red, “what’s the gap?” 

“Point-nine, he’ll have DRS,” 

Gojo curses the mechanics slightly because a slightly shorter stop would’ve meant a much easier job for him right now, and the stop felt slightly slow, but he’s not about to whine over the radio about that when he can outrace Yuuta here, right now, on the track. 

They weave through turns three through seven, and then, finally, Gojo can get on the throttle out into turn eight, screaming down with Yuuta right on his tail. Still, he loves a good fight and he’ll give the crowd something to talk about. 

“Keep me updated on the gap, Shoko,” 

“Copy, point-eight,” Shoko replies, as Gojo brakes through the hairpin at turn eleven and gets on the throttle through the high speed bend of turn twelve. 

Under braking at turn thirteen, Yuuta gets much too close for comfort, and they go wheel-to-wheel until Gojo gets the better exit on the inside line. 

“Point-three,” Shoko says, and Gojo really starts to concentrate. These tyres are going to be fucked if he has to do this much longer. 

They both scream down to the high speed corner of fifteen, Yuuta catching a slipstream behind him, trying to go to the inside at the last moment: not a traditional overtaking zone, but gutsy and brilliant in the high speed. “Point-one,” Shoko says, just a second too late-

The impact takes him by surprise. It must be a clipped wheel, where Yuuta is just a tad too close through the turn. The wheel spins, and the car with it, and Gojo takes his hands away from the wheel as he loses control. 

 

—

 

August 2014, France

 

“Thanks for picking me up,” Haibara grins, pulling his seatbelt across his chest in Getou’s car, “I can stay at yours if it’s easier,” 

“No, it’s okay, you’re staying with Nanami, right?” 

“Uh. Yeah.” Haibara turns to look out the window, and swallows, “um. You know about me and him, right?” 

“What about you and him?” 

“We’re together, like. Properly,” Haibara murmurs, “so.” 

“What about racing?” Getou blurts, because that’s his first thought, like an idiot. Haibara’s face shutters closed, crumples. 

“I’m not gonna be racing anymore, so. It doesn’t matter,” 

“What?” Getou turns, looking away from the road momentarily, “is it that bad?” 

Haibara nods, lips pressed together. “The deep tissue damage… uh. Yeah. I’m gonna be managing it for the rest of my life, Suguru.” 

He ends up pulling over on the side of the road to pull him into a hug when he starts crying, silent, but with fat tears rolling down his cheeks and a trembling lower lip. “It’s gonna be okay,” 

“I’m never gonna be able to drive again,” 

The higher-ups had barely done anything about the unsealed manhole in Monaco. They’d resealed it, barely even made a statement about Haibara’s injuries. Getou feels it boiling inside him, the anger at them for allowing this to happen. It was preventable. “I know,” 

“Is it bad that I’m happy about it? Like, I’m so sad, but– I can just– I can be. People are gonna stop caring about me,” 

“They’ll always care about you-” 

“Not in the way they do now. I dunno, man. I’m trying to find silver linings,” Haibara says, laughing wetly, “but I’m not lying. It feels- I feel free for the first time in a while. So. Maybe it was meant to happen like this.” 

Getou doesn’t know what to say. Without racing, he’d be nothing. There’s nothing else he can do. Go back to school? Be a journalist, like Yuki? “I’m happy for you and Nanami, y’know.” 

“Thanks,” 

“Just be careful,” 

“We will be. We are. Promise.” 

Getou believes him wholeheartedly. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Japan

 

“Gojo, are you okay?” 

His ears are ringing, and his hands are shaking. Gojo screws his eyes tightly shut, tipping his head back. God, everything hurts. 

“Gojo, are you okay?” 

Gojo wiggles his toes, then realises belatedly he can’t even see them to check if his feet are capable of moving. 

“Satoru, are you okay, please respond,” 

Satoru blinks his eyes open, flips the visor of his helmet up with one hand, and presses the button on his steering wheel with the other. What he means to say is yeah, I’m fine, but as soon as he tries to speak, his chest blooms with pain, white hot, and all that comes out is a pained groan, hissed out from between his teeth. 

“Medical car is on its way, hang tight,” Shoko says, sounding a lot more calm now that she’s heard him conscious. “Can you move? Are you trapped?” 

“Ah– no, and no,” Satoru says, finding he can get words out, “I don’t think anything’s broken, but- yeah- this was a big one.” Then he remembers what happened, coming back to him all in a rush, and- “is Yuuta okay?” 

“He’s back in the pits, he sustained damage, though,” Shoko says, and- back in the pits?

“Is it a red flag?” 

“Yeah, a lot of debris,” Shoko says, “you scared us, Satoru,” 

Satoru laughs, then immediately stops, because that hurts, he finds out. “I’m okay,” 

“Medical car is there now.” 

 

—

 

They give him a bunch of the good stuff - morphine - diagnose him with severe bruising and a concussion and send him on his way. Yaga gives him his jacket, and Shoko walks him to the car, sends him back to the hotel without doing media. 

Which is probably more for the team’s sake than Gojo’s, since he’s high as a kite, and will probably spout absolute nonsense to the press and cause a small crisis. 

Shoko leaves him in his hotel room, in the dark for his concussion. He’s allowed to sleep, so he drifts off, left with a promise to be checked on every hour by Shoko or Yaga, and slips in and out of it with a pounding head. 

He’s not sure how many hours pass when he hears the door creaking open and two sets of footsteps, hushed voices. His whole body feels heavy, and he blinks slowly in the darkness. 

“See, he’s fine. He’s crashed like this before, you know that,” 

“Not for a while,” 

That’s Suguru’s voice, he thinks, sluggish, but his body doesn’t really want to move, all adrenaline gone. 

“It’s a concussion, bruising,” Shoko replies, and Satoru can hear the tension in her voice, the way she gestures, “it just looked ugly on the outside,” 

“You were worried too, don’t do that,” 

There’s a pause. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I’ve been here. I have the right to be worried.” 

“Come on-” 

“No. I’m done sugarcoating it for you,” Shoko hisses, a whisper that Satoru has to strain to hear. “We all thought you’d killed yourself. I, in particular, thought you’d killed yourself. You told no one where you were going. You know how hard he took it?” 

Shuffling of feet. “Shoko, you know I’m-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare apologise to me right now. You are not fucking sorry- are you kidding?” 

“I am– what do you want me to do to prove it?” 

Breathing evening out. “I don’t know.” A quiet admission. “But you need to talk to him. Properly.” 

“I will.” There’s another pause, and Satoru can imagine Shoko raising her eyebrows at him. “Seriously.” 

“Alright,” Shoko murmurs, “maybe before Austin. Tell Yuuji congrats, by the way,” 

“Are you heading back to Monaco?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Right, okay,” Suguru’s footsteps get closer, and Satoru feels a hand go to his hair, running fingers through it. “God, you scared me today, you know that?” 

“Well. It was Yuuta’s fault,” 

“Oh, trust me, he knows,” Suguru says, his fingers tracing Satoru’s face. “Jesus, I was so angry. Miguel had to talk to him first,” 

Shoko giggles, softly, “really?” 

“It was pretty much the same as- yeah-” his fingers leave Satoru’s body, and he mourns the loss, his brows creasing. Shoko giggles again, and Suguru sighs, “I’m fucked.” 

Their footsteps retreat again, and Shoko’s speaking, “was it the same turn, really?” 

“Yeah, kind of a testament to how much the safety has come, right? The fact he’s here,” 

The door opens, and closes, and Satoru’s alone in the dark again. Sleep comes easily, with the morphine and the exhaustion. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND NINETEEN- TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	326
2	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	301
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	264
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	264
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	213
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	166
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	106
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	96
9	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	74
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	69

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND NINETEEN

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	590
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	565
3	Sengoku (=)	379
4	Meiji (=)	202
5	Haein (=)	84
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	72

 

—

Notes:

warnings: mentions of implied ED, suicidal ideation, description of crashes and drug use.
irl f1 went crazy. wdym alex albon stole logan sargeants car, williams has no spare chassis, losing an appendix makes u a race winner, sauber still cant fix their pitstops and ferrari got a 1-2???
anyway. enjoy this chapter. 2014 is making me actually genuinely insane. all the dots are connecting. hope u guys are screaming crying

come find me on tumblr

Chapter 20: xx - blistering

Summary:

The consequence of a tyre - or part of a tyre - overheating. Excess heat causes the rubber to soften and break away in chunks from the body of the tyre, caused by the selection of an inappropriate tyre compound, pressure, or an improperly set up car.

Notes:

real quick guys i need you all to manifest a leclerc win for this weekend. idc if you know who that is, or if you watch f1, or if you're a fan of another driver. just manifest it. need it to happen. it can be ur repayment for reading this /j

ALSO: look at this fucking incredible fanart by atlas, which i cant believe is real and im in love with it on a spiritual level, and this this piece insp by the fic by guily (sorry i cant comment on it pookie, i dont have twitter, but i love it so much its insane.) There's also a bunch more f1 x jjk fanart reblogged on my tumblr by @thisisallaikiss, i love all u guys

anyway. here's 10.1k, enjoy!

FULL FIC EDITED 3/5/24 - some minor details have been edited. if you don't want to reread, theres a post on my tumblrhere that explains the changes <3 MANIFEST 4 MIAMI BABY!!

August 2014, Belgium

 

It’s rare for two drivers from the same team to be put together in the Thursday press conferences, but Gojo and Getou are sat next to one another in Belgium. Gojo is chewing on his straw waiting for them to start, sunglasses half way down his nose. 

No one else can tell, but he’s nervous. Getou’s been watching the way he’s picking at his knuckles for the last half hour. “Stop, Satoru,” 

Gojo looks up, guiltily letting his hands separate. “Sorry, I know it bothers you.” 

Getou opens his mouth to try and say it doesn’t bother him in the way Gojo thinks, but the host of the press conference coughs and they both turn to the front, all attention focused on him. 

“So, welcome everyone-” the host says, making his way through the introductions. Gojo smiles, winking at a girl to the side who giggles when they announce his name. It makes her flush more, if that was even possible. Getou rolls his eyes at it. 

Gojo holds his hand over the microphone and grins. “What’s the harm? She could go home with you,” 

Getou hasn’t taken anyone home with him all year. He needs to be focused and taking girls home isn’t focus . Although it's not been helping him win anything, lately, so–

Also, Gojo doesn’t need to know that. He really, really doesn’t, when he’s still sucking off random men and doing lines every other weekend. Getou knows. He’s seen glimpses of it, even when he’s actively trying to look the other way. 

“Gojo, we’ll start with you,” the host says, and both of them turn to pay attention again. Getou rests his chin in his hand. “How’s the summer break been?” 

“Ah, good. Relaxing, you know? Had about a week off then it was back to work,” 

“You come into the second half of the season with a sixty point lead over your teammate, who is your closest rival in the championship right now. Is that a comfortable place for you to be?” 

“I mean, of course it’s nice to have a cushion, but Suguru’s had worse luck than me, he had a mechanical failure in Hungary from the lead, and of course the mess at Silverstone with quali and Toji,” he hums, “and I think it’s one of those things– I could have worse luck in these races. And he’s an incredible racer– the best I’ve ever fought, and with him, it’s not over ‘til it's over. I’d have to get lucky to keep this gap, and I don’t really believe in luck,” 

Getou can’t help scoffing, even if it’s with a smile on his face. 

“Okay, Getou, I’ll come to you,” the host says, and Getou pastes on a smile. The press smile he’s learnt by heart. “Did you do anything over the summer break? Anything interesting?” 

“I was just in Monaco, mostly,” Getou says, “some time in the sim, training. I was with Haibara for a bit, too, helping him with his rehab, he’s doing well,” 

“Ah-” the host says, dog to a bone, “how is he? Any news on his return to competitive racing?” 

Getou thinks of Haibara’s lip wobbling in his car, and of Nanami’s stern face when he dropped him home. “No. The team will announce that when he’s ready, I’m sure.”

Just minutely, Gojo tenses beside him. He knows that Haibara’s never going anywhere near a car again too, but everyone’s promised to stay quiet about that until the end of the season, to allow him time to change his mind if his recovery goes better than expected. 

“And do you think you can catch Gojo for the championship this year, even from sixty points down?” 

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could.” It’s the truth: he believes in it. Gojo does, too, nodding from beside him once, short. 

Getou zones out again as they filter through all the drivers: the questions are the same-old, same-old, asking about work over the summer break, whether they can catch their rivals, etcetera. Gojo kicks him once under the table, then whistles like he’s done nothing at all, even though his cheeks go slightly red with it. 

For a moment, they’re back in 2010, trading kicks under the table, letting the interviewers get annoyed with them for the hell of it. 

Then the questions from the actual journalists start, and Getou is reminded of where they are, in 2014, in a title fight. His stomach feels empty, and a sharp pain hits his stomach. 

“Question for Getou,” a journalist says, “you’ve very much become an underdog in this title fight, despite, after the first two races, being evenly matched for points. Is this a mentality issue, or is it like your teammate said, just poor luck?” 

Gojo bristles beside him, which isn’t entirely fair since the question is directed at him, and there’s no real reason for Gojo to be offended by it. “I think my mentality is the same as its always been. I’ve shown resilience, I’ve shown that I want to fight until the end. Look at Monaco, look at Malaysia. Where I haven’t had mechanical issues, I’ve been right behind my teammate in second. The gap between us has been exacerbated by some poor circumstances.” 

“Question to Gojo,” another reporter raises their hand, and Getou watches him pull a hand through his hair, smiling sweetly. “In an interview, the boss for Keicho’s juniors spoke about a meeting with you where you recommended Getou for their junior program– academy– back in 2008. Is that true, and have you read the interview?” 

Getou’s blood runs cold. 

“Um– I’ve not read the interview, to be honest,” Gojo hums, smiling sheepishly, “but yeah, it’s true. But it was less of my influence than– they were asking, kind of, do we sign him? Is he Grade One material? After his performance in GREC, and I was just the person to say yes, he’s worth it, you should sign him. It’s funny, I probably played more of a role in his G4 seat.” 

“His G4 seat? Can you elaborate on that?” 

“Uh- I actually basically asked ‘bout three teams to take him on for G4. He was thinking of quitting and then Haein– wait, it was Haein, right? Suguru?” 

Getou nods dumbly. He should’ve known. 

“Yeah, I told them you’ll be missing out without him, and they were the ones that offered to take him without the usual fees associated. I didn’t even really know, at the time, because I tried to get him to race with me at Sengoku after his first year in G4, and we couldn’t, because they– yeah, well, I’ve said too much, I just wanted him to keep racing with me, to be honest.” 

Suguru feels sick. He counts to five in his head to quell it. 

 

—

 

“What the fuck.” 

“What?” Gojo says, wide-eyed, backing into his drivers’ room, half-laughing, “what are you on about?” 

“You got me my G4 seat? And the Keicho Academy?” 

“Keicho was– really, it was just them asking if you were right for it, they’d practically already decided,” Gojo frowns, taking off his glasses, “what was I supposed to say? Don’t sign him? You’d just won the GREC, you-” 

“No. The G4 seat. You– that was you?” 

“I– yeah. You had no money, I was trying to-” 

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” 

Here it is: the boiling pot, the heat, everything that’s gone wrong this year and every year before. 

“You were never going to ask,” Gojo says, small, “but you wanted to race– I wanted you to race–” 

“ You wanted me to race-” 

“You wanted to race! You were– you were fucking upset about it! I found someone who was willing to do it for my dad, as a favour, for God’s sake, Suguru, you were living in my house, I was already helping you–” 

“I could’ve been an engineer! I could’ve avoided– all of this!” 

A heavy silence hangs between them, and Gojo’s eyebrows crease. “You- we’re the best driver pairing on the grid by miles. Probably ever. You–” 

Of course. “And you’re better than me , by miles. So what do I get for it? I’m- Jesus, this is hard work, okay? I could’ve done something else, my dad might be still alive-” 

“What the fuck,” Gojo says, voice trembling, “don’t blame me for that,” 

Getou realises what he’s said two sentences too late. “I didn’t mean-” 

“Yeah, you did.” Gojo laughs, mirth rising, “Jesus, I was trying to help. If anything I was saving your dad from working stupid hours to support you. It was his choice, and he loved you, and saying all this shit isn’t gonna bring him back.” 

“You told me it was all me, for Keicho, you lied-” 

“I didn’t. And if you’re delusional enough to think that at that point you hadn’t proved yourself worthy a thousand times over, you need to be checked into a mental hospital. Seriously, Suguru, they asked me what your personality was like. For fucks sake– get out of my drivers’ room.” 

Getou stands on the threshold, something sinking like a stone in his stomach. He needs a cigarette. “I’m so-” 

“Shut up.” 

Getou goes. He can take a hint.

 

—

 

GETOU TRIUMPHS IN SPA: Belgian GP 2014 Roundup / G1 NEWS

Written by Katie Esther, August 25th 2014

 

Suguru Getou, after a long wait this season, is finally back on the top step of the podium in Belgium, completing a dominant weekend where he earnt pole, fastest lap, and the win: “it’s a relief, for sure, to come here and remind everyone what I’m capable of, after some issues in the first half of the season. It definitely makes me excited to drive the rest of the races and try and close the gap on my first championship.” 

Meanwhile, his teammate and championship rival had a power steering failure that caused a crash in the tenth lap of the race, ending his five-race long winning streak from before the summer break. “It’s a shame, definitely. My quali wasn’t great, and I was starting from P5, but I still think I had pace to fight for the win today, and that chance was taken from me. But that’s racing, and these things happen… (CLICK TO READ MORE)

 

—

 

G1 DRIVERS’ STANDINGS AFTER ROUND 12 - 2014

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	241
2	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	207
3	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	200

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

October 2022, USA

 

Back in the early days of their careers, there were barely any fans in America. It was one of the few countries they stopped at where they were genuinely considered nobodies to most of the population, and could do whatever they wanted. In 2010, Yuki had dragged them what felt like halfway across the country to some club after the race, and none of them remembered anything in the morning. When they came to, Choso was shirtless in his hotel room, and Suguru was giggling with Yuki about it. 

Now, it’s different. They can’t get away with the shit they used to. Global fame will do that to a person, he supposes. They’re in the states early for a couple of press events, and there was supposed to be a showrun, but–

“Satoru, are you okay?” 

Satoru hasn’t minded being treated like he’s fragile, this time around. Usually it feels fake: he’s never really believed that the people around him wanted him to get better for any reason other than racing, but this time, he’s got Shoko fretting over him, and it feels like genuine concern. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he smiles back to her. He isn’t. He’s still got mild headaches, and he’s jetlagged as hell, but– “as I can be. My ankle’s playing up again.” 

“We should get the physio to look at it, before we head to Austin. It’s not too bad, is it?” 

“Nah, just need some cold spray, probably,” Satoru hums, rolling back and forwards on it. “To be honest I think I tweaked it walking back to the hotel, when I was high as fuck on whatever they gave me,” 

“Were you okay with that? The drugs, I mean?” 

Satoru winces. Most of the time he can put it to the back of his mind: the fact he, at one point, had what could be considered a serious problem. “I never abused prescription pills, Shoko,” 

“Just checking,” Shoko hums, rubbing her eyes. “Is Megs driving?” 

“Yeah,” Gojo hums, “just signing shit for me today,” 

Shoko laughs, “I don’t even need to be here,” 

“But I want you to be here,” Satoru grins, and that’s that. Shoko will go with him anywhere. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he decisively ignores it. He knows who it’s from. 

“You’re not gonna get that?” 

“Nope,” Satoru replies, popping the p, then, softer, “I don’t really know what to say,” 

“Just say: hey we were both stupid, can we talk about our past and maybe fuck again-” 

“Shoko-” Satoru half gasps, half laughs, tucked away in his coat, “I can’t-” 

“Sure you can. Just- dude. You two have to talk,” 

“Have you? Talked to him?” 

“A bit. After your crash,” Shoko hums, “not everything, though. He- there’s a lot there, you know? It’s not one conversation, done, it’s this big ongoing thing. A gap he left.” 

“Him being back fills the gap, though, doesn’t it?” 

Shoko hums, “no. It won’t. And he needs to understand that– all of it,” 

Satoru is about to ask what the actual hell that means when Megumi walks up alongside them, tucked into a long coat in the cold of the morning much like he is. Toto pants beside him. “Are we going?” 

“Waiting for the car,” Shoko says, “do we know who else is driving?”

“I think Yaga roped Nanami in last minute,” Megumi says, “but don’t ask me how.” 

Satoru doesn’t, whistling into the cold air. It billows out in front of him, mixing with the smoke from the cigarette Shoko lights. 

 

—

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: you’re in the US already? 

 

Me: yeh, showrun in cali

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: you’re already driving?

 

Me: no, nanami took my spot,, was supposed 2 tho

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: how are you feeling? That crash was rough

 

Me: not as bad as it couldve been

 

[Missed call from Suguru ICE <3<3<3]

 

Me: wht time is it there

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: I know your phone has about three clocks for timezones on it, you don’t need to hear that from me

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: you know the timezones off by heart anyway. 

 

Me: I’m about to go out i can call u bck l8r

Me: tryna start a convo … crazy

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: It’s okay, I’ll see you when we get to the US

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: you wanna go to that japanese place we found back when we were teammates? 

 

Me: are u paying

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: you’re an idiot. 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: But yes, Satoru, if you want. 

 

—

 

Shoko rolls her eyes, swirling her wine in her glass. “Honestly, it’s like looking at a mirror. Both of you are as bad as each other.” 

Nanami hums from beside her, a small smile twitching on his lips. They’re waiting for food, and the light is low, and they’re sat in a hidden corner, just how Satoru likes it. Tucked away from everyone else, private. He looks up at where Shoko’s smiling, because she can see from here that he was just checking his texts from Yaga, not Suguru, but Megumi snaps his head up and turns bright red anyway. “I wasn’t-” 

“He’s up late, isn’t he?” Shoko grins, blinking slowly, “how far is Italy ahead of here?” 

“Nine hours,” Satoru grins. It’s eight in the evening here, so–

“Oh, maybe up early, then,” Shoko hums, “what is it there, five?” 

Megumi’s cheeks flush an even deeper red. Nanami raises an eyebrow. “How are you two going to keep this a secret?” 

“Did you tell him?” Megumi stares with narrowed eyes at Satoru, who throws his hands up. 

“Nope,” 

“You’re incredibly obvious,” Nanami says. His hair is combed back from the sweat and stickiness under the balaclava earlier. It suits him, Satoru thinks. “You’re lucky that it’s normal for you two to be idiots about each other,” 

“Precedent,” Shoko agrees, nodding solemnly. 

Megumi whips his gaze between them, mouth slightly open, and then sets his glare on Satoru, as if to say what the hell? Satoru just laughs at him. 

 

—

 

September 2014, Italy

 

Monza isn’t Getou’s home race anymore. He doesn’t wear red, and so he is not theirs. But he was still a part of Keicho for the majority of his junior years, and he was raised in it, in a way, so Monza still feels like a homecoming. 

This is his third year here in black and white instead of red, and he doesn’t get asked to do interviews anymore, but he does speak Italian all the way through the weekend, fans crowding him and smiling at him and asking if he’d go back to Keicho. 

Utahime doesn’t speak Italian, not really. She’d never learnt it well enough, and he knows she understands, but she is far from fluent. He watches her signing a cap, smiling, saying grazie . The sound she makes at the end of the word is wrong. Getou doesn’t correct her. 

He turns back to the crowds, moving on autopilot, signing things and moving forward. The sun is hot on the back of his neck. 

When he turns to the other side, he sees Gojo, smiling and speaking in perfect Italian, sunglasses pushed right up his face and cap shoved down. To let as little of the bright sunlight into his eyes as possible. 

No matter what, this is Gojo’s home race. Whichever team he goes to, they adore him here. He might never have driven in red, but he’s Italian and a world champion, so he’s still theirs. 

 

—

 

“Getou?” 

Getou turns at the voice, looking up and squinting through the sun. He’s met with the face of a man he struggles to place, dark curly hair down to his shoulders and rings on his hands and pearly white teeth. He’s about to ask who he is, and then the man lifts his sunglasses up onto his forehead, and smiles right up to his eyes–

“Lorenzo?” 

“Ha! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He grins, “are you busy?” 

Getou looks down at his unfinished plate of food. “I’ve got half an hour before I have to be in a strategy meeting, so,” 

“Oh, brilliant,” Lorenzo says, still smiling, rounding the corner, and it’s only as he hops up the stairs that Getou sees the toddler trailing after him. A little girl in a pink dress. 

He sits down opposite him, and blinks, “your accent is gorgeous, by the way, I’ve always wondered what you would sound like in Italian.” 

“Is she yours?” Getou says, and Lorenzo giggles. Giggles . 

“Ah, no, she’s my husband’s. Bella, say hi.” 

Chiara waves as she clambers onto Lorenzo’s lap, clearly shy and tired. Still- “husband’s?” 

“He’s a mechanic for Nara,” Lorenzo says, “Matteo Rossi,” 

Getou shakes his head. He hasn’t heard of him, so he mustn’t be anyone important. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re surprised, I was very obvious,” Lorenzo smiles, easy and aloof, just like he always was, “I really did have the biggest crush on you when we were teammates. I thought you were very attractive.” 

Getou’s stomach curdles. “Ah, sorry. You must have hid it well.” 

“Don’t be. It was silly, really. I think I liked how good you were more than anything, I was quite jealous too, it was very confusing,” 

“Did you– I mean, you are not still racing now.” 

“Ah– no. My father stopped supporting me a while ago. I haven’t spoken to him since I told him I didn’t want to date his friend’s daughter. He didn’t want to fund my career anymore, so.” 

“I’m sorry,” Getou isn’t sure what he’s sorry for: the fact that Lorenzo had to quit racing, or the fact his father doesn’t speak to him anymore. 

“I made my choice,” he replies, bouncing Chiara on his lap, stroking her back to soothe her, “some things are more important than racing, I think.” 

Getou looks at him, and sees the same expensive watches, the same rings, the same curls. Thinks how easy it is for him to say that, when racing was just something on the side. When there was always more to his life than the next good result, the next sponsor. 

Still, he laughs, makes it light, “not for me,”

“Of course, that’s how all Grade One drivers work,” Lorenzo says, like he understands. 

He doesn’t. 

 

—

 

INTERVIEW – Suguru Getou has his eyes on the prize, even as the underdog 

Written by Joanne Jones, 5th September 2014

 

The most striking thing about Getou is his presence. He’s often seen in photos alongside his taller teammate, and until you meet him in person, you could be forgiven for not realising how tall he is - six-foot-two, to be precise. And yet, he doesn’t fill the room. 

Despite having a championship-winning car for all five of his seasons in Grade 1, Suguru is yet to walk away with a world championship for himself. “Of course it’s something I want. It’s something every driver wants, more or less. I think coming in with the junior career I had - three back-to-back rookie wins - set up these really high expectations for me, and I haven’t had a chance to rise to them, yet.” 

There are other factors, though, for his lack of a world championship, and commentators have often pointed out his lack of luck across his seasons in the sport. “In my first season, I had the odds stacked against me. I came in a bit slow, compared to Yuki, and Toji was too close to both of us in the end for me to be able to properly fight. And then the crash in Japan– I mean, that’s a painful memory for me, of course, it prevented me from being competitive for pretty much half of the season after, as well, due to the lack of training in the offseason. But last year, I had no excuse. Gojo was just the better driver out on track after Spa happened, and I can’t take that away from him.” 

When he refers to Spa, Suguru refers to a collision between him, Fushiguro, and Riko that ended in a fatality for Riko, the young Keicho prodigy. “I’d known her a long time. We were in the driver academy together, we lived in the same apartment block. She was a huge talent, and I mean, it’s racing. But it shouldn’t be. And I think some of my lack of performance after that point was definitely mental.” 

The mental game is becoming more and more of a conversation topic. Utahime Iori, another Keicho academy alumni, has spoken about the circus of G1 and struggling to keep up, and after Riko’s death, she too spoke of how much the sport can take from its athletes, who are supposed to be protected. Meanwhile, Suguru’s teammate, Satoru Gojo, who grew up with both Utahime and Gojo on Japanese and European karting circuits, sits at the opposite end of the spectrum, saying that the sport is dangerous, and the drivers walk into it with their eyes open, and it gives them everything. 

Suguru hums when I remind him of both drivers’ remarks. “It does give you everything. Racing gives you so much. But it’s a brutal sport, mentally, physically. It’s different, coming in with money and connections. For drivers that rely on development programs like Utahime and I… it’s a different ballgame. We can’t just race. We have to think about the sponsors, what we say, what we do, how we afford to step up. Keicho fully funded my career once I hit G3, but it was only after I almost quit about three times: once before my G4 seasons, and then again when I had to scrabble to find sponsors to race in GREC. I was lucky that Satoru let me live with him in Italy, too, whilst I found my feet in Europe. I wouldn’t have made it without that help.” 

Suguru’s working-class background is a novelty in G1. Gojo comes from a long legacy of racing drivers, as did Riko. Kento, Haibara, and Utahime all had families that could fund their careers in motorsport up to G2, with a bit of help from sponsors. Suguru doesn’t find this alienating, though. “It’s a focus game. I never felt left out, or different, necessarily, but there’s a level of: you can just race, and I can’t. I’ve got to jump through hoops to do what you can just do without having to think about it. I think that’s partly why when I hit G3 and G2, that’s why my performances were so much better. I could just focus on the racing.” 

The focus game. It seems to be a topic of discourse amongst sports journalists who comment on Getou’s career. “The consistency argument is one I see crop up a lot. There was a narrative woven when I left Keicho– he’s a coward, he won’t fight Yuki, and I mean, of course, but I was getting upgrades second, and generally being treated like a number two driver, even though I was matching her on pace. And then Yaga came to me and said, we want to sign you, you’ll be free to fight Gojo, and that was that.” 

The decision for Getou to join JTR - Jujutsu Technical Racing - in 2012 felt like a full circle moment. “He’s my best friend. We talked about it, as kids, being in G1 together. And for me, at the time, it was a pipe dream. But Gojo is Gojo, and he always gets what he wants, so here we are.” 

After his win at Spa, Getou remains some forty points behind Gojo in the standings. Now, with just seven races remaining to claw himself back into contention, he’s the underdog against a two-time world champion. “Underdog? Do you want me to fail?” Suguru laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “I suppose I am, but I don’t like to think of myself that way. I’m focused, I’m determined, and ultimately I’m just as fast as Gojo. Forty points can be gained and lost in two races, let alone seven, and I definitely want it badly enough.” 

But does he want it as badly as a seasoned, championship winning, undeniably hungry Gojo in his prime? “Yes. I do. I think the hunger for the first win– it surpasses everything else. It’s been eating away at me for a few seasons, and I have a lot to prove.” 

And he does. Italy comes next, and with a win there, Suguru would triumph over his teammate in his home race. Surely a victory he needs to begin his charge to a victory that is not only sorely deserved, but that he wants deeply. 

 

—

 

Yuki presents the trophies on the podium in Monza. Getou takes it all: the race win, converted from a pole position, and Gojo stands in third. Yuki smiles, whispers to him in Italian as she touches his face, “you’re still in it, come on.”

When he raises the trophy, the crowd roars for its underdog, for a man who is finding out he can bite.

Italy isn’t his anymore, but he can still take it from Gojo. 

 

—

 

October 2022, USA

 

It’s simultaneously funny and incredibly disconcerting seeing Getou dressed down to avoid media attention at his hotel room door, Satoru thinks. Jeans and a hoodie. He thinks it might be the most casual he’s seen him since they were teammates. 

He can’t stop himself from laughing, and Getou flushes. “Is there something wrong with it?” 

“No,” Satoru squeaks, unintentionally, because his voice breaks, and Getou rolls his eyes. 

“Are you coming, or am I going by myself?” 

“Go by yourself,” Satoru huffs, even as he pulls the hotel room door shut behind him and steps out into the hallway. “Are you driving? I don’t have my car here,” 

“They haven’t given you a hire one?” 

“It’s arriving tomorrow,” Satoru hums, “something to do with the insurance, Yaga said,” 

“Funny, you drive race cars for a living and they’re worried about you crashing,” Getou laughs, then winces. “Ah, maybe too soon?” 

Satoru laughs as they step into the elevator. “Nah, I’m good. It was a bit rough from the outside, though, wasn’t it?” 

He’d watched the crash back, on the plane to America. The car had crumpled: it certainly wasn’t pretty. He’d watched himself back, too, climbing from the car supported by the stewards and waving feebly to the crowd. He barely remembers doing that, too high on adrenaline and in pain. 

Getou winces. “It was pretty much the same as my crash with Toji. I guess it’s good the cars are safer now.” 

Satoru blinks a couple of times. He sees it reflected back to him in the mirror, through the corner of his eyes, “really?” 

“Mhm. Same corner.” 

There’s a moment of silence between them. The elevator pings softly, and Getou walks out, into the hotel lobby. Satoru follows, quiet, as they fold themselves into his car, a sleek Keicho in a sort of muted blue. 

The engine starts beneath them. “Seatbelt,” Getou reminds him, and Satoru reaches for it blindly, grabbing it in his left hand. 

“You know,” Getou says, as they turn out of the car park, “Yuuji showed me one of those weird comparison videos the fans make,” 

“Of what?” 

“The two crashes.” Getou laughs, “they blend together almost seamlessly, I’ve got to admit.” 

“Except I walked away from mine.” Satoru murmurs, despite himself, “and you almost didn’t.” 

Getou tilts his head to the side. His jaw flexes. “It doesn’t bother me.” 

It bothers Satoru, though. “You’re not– I mean, this is why I don’t look at social media anymore,” 

“Ah– yeah. It’s not nice, to remember something that almost killed you,” 

Satoru remembers acutely the red flags, the debris being cleared, his heart rabbiting in his chest thinking he’s dead he’s dead he’s dead . And then he remembers getting back in the car the next week and thinking, he’s alive, and it won’t happen to me . 

“I almost– I thought about quitting, after Japan,” 

“Ha. As if you’d let Yuuji walk away with the championship,” Getou grins, and then, when Satoru doesn’t respond, it falters. “Wait– you mean–” 

“Yeah, I– I never wanted to race without you, man.” 

It’s the closest to a confession Satoru has ever gotten. He told no one back then: he had a contract, he had to drive, it was the only thing he knew. But it was a thought he kept having, whilst Getou fought his way through his recovery: is this worth it? 

Satoru watches Getou’s hands tighten on the wheel. “I’m sorry, for handling it the way I did.” 

“Handling what?” 

“When I quit.” 

“Ah.” 

It’s heavy, the atmosphere. Neither of them really want to talk about it, and yet Satoru needs to. He needs to purge it from his body, never think about it again. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m playing mind games with you,” Getou blurts out, and his cheeks are slightly red, his lips pressed together. “I’m not– I’m not being bad at this because I want to distract you from the championship.” 

That’s a lot to break down, Satoru thinks. “Not even a little bit?” 

“Why would I want to give Yuuji a fake win? I want him to know what it is to fight you and win, all the way to the end. And if I was– playing games–” 

“Surely you know me well enough that you know that this isn’t affecting me once the visor’s down.” 

“No.” Suguru’s mouth twitches at the corners, “no, I know you better than that. But I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to do that to you.” 

“I think that I could survive any psychological torture after 2015, anyway,” Satoru snorts, “so.” 

“Mhm. Untouchable.” 

Satoru watches Suguru closely. His smirk, the way he uses the commentator’s words against him, mocking. Teasing. Like they always were before. 

And yet it’s not. And Satoru gets what Shoko was saying, now. 

“Why did you leave?” 

Suguru swallows, “a lot of things,” then he sighs, “I don’t know where to start.” 

The car turns to the right and Satoru feels it again, creeping in on him. But this time there’s tinted windows and he tucks his hands under his thighs. “I know I said you were a coward, and– I dunno, that’s what all the commentators said. That you were running from having to defend the title against me,” 

“Ah. And you suddenly believe them?” 

Satoru flushes. “Well, you’d gone radio silent, who else would I have to believe?” 

They turn another corner. “It wasn’t you,” a pause, “it wasn’t you that made me leave. I just– you made it look incredibly easy, from every angle I looked. And at the time, I thought, if he can do it, I have to do it the same way, I have to do it better if I want to win, and it took everything out of me. I mean, I had to– my mom called an ambulance for me when I got back to Japan,” 

“What?” 

“They had to put me on a tube. I couldn’t eat without throwing up.” 

Satoru feels it in his own throat, maybe half of it. “I didn’t realise it was–” 

“I didn’t have my phone, for most of it. Like, three months, maybe.” 

“That was after you quit, though,” Satoru says, childish, “wasn’t it?” He should ask how he even started talking to his mom again, all that stuff. But it doesn’t seem important, right now. 

“Yeah. Yuki told me– uh. Yuki bought me out of the contract. I’m not sure if Yaga told you,” 

Satoru shakes his head. Suguru grimaces, “I was– after Riko died, and they refused to ban Toji– yeah. Satoru, it wasn’t you, I was never going to be able to stick with it through that. Even before Riko died, I was sick,” 

“I thought you hated me. I thought it was the title fight, I-” he blinks as his vision becomes blurry. Suguru pulls the car up onto the sidewalk. “I thought it was just about championships.” 

The car hums to a halt. The silence feels like a wound opened. Suguru reaches across, swiping his thumbs under Satoru’s eyes. His hands are warm. “It was easier, at the time, to– to kid myself into thinking it was you I was angry at. Or Shoko, for defending you. I was jealous of you, I think. For making it look easy,” 

“I barely remember 2013, after Spa,” Satoru finds himself saying. His throat jumps over the words. “I don’t remember much of 2014 or 2015, either.” 

He hopes that Suguru hears what it is he’s saying without having to embarrass himself, admit that the problem he had in those moments has affected him beyond forgetting his weekends. 

Suguru’s hands drop. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” He looks away, just for a moment, “everyone thought you were just– a party animal, I dunno.” 

“Party animal-” Satoru scoffs, because the words sound so foreign coming from Suguru’s mouth. 

“Hey, I know, I didn’t invent the English language–!” 

But it’s too late, and they’re both laughing, giggling in Suguru’s supercar like a couple of teenagers. 

“It would be a really bad idea to kiss you right now, wouldn’t it?” 

“Extremely. The windows are only tinted so far,” Suguru hums, but he’s smiling, soft at the edges. “You still want to kiss me?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

Suguru barks out a short laugh, eyes crinkling. “You’re an idiot.” 

Satoru is spellbound. “Yeah.” He pauses. “Fortunately for you.” 

“I guess I am quite lucky, huh?” 

Satoru feels his cheeks burning red. He doesn’t have to ponder that for too long, though, because Suguru is opening the door and stepping out, beckoning Satoru to go with him. When they enter the restaurant, the waitress doesn’t recognise them, but is happy to oblige their request to be sat tucked away at the back, which fills Satoru with relief. 

Suguru hums as he looks through the menu, and Satoru finds himself slumping in his chair, stretching his legs so their ankles brush under the table. “Is this– are we actually together, now?” 

“Do you want to be?” 

Satoru nods his head, “yeah, but– it doesn’t feel– right, yet.” 

“Why?” 

He takes a steadying breath, “you were gone a long time. And– there’s the championship. I can’t focus on it if you’re-” he waves his hands around, hoping Suguru understands. 

He snorts. “Sure. But I thought you said it didn’t affect you when the visor went down?” 

“You and I both know you can’t win a championship by just being good in the car,” 

And it was ultimately that that broke them apart, wasn’t it? The media, the mental game, the utter focus needed to beat your greatest rival.

Suguru hums, tilting his head to the side. “Yeah, I do.” 

“So. After I’m done.” 

“After you’re done. Are you going to be done?” 

“I don’t know,” Satoru admits. Racing is in his blood. Maybe he’ll go for a triple crown, do some endurance. Maybe he’ll end up back on the grid, in some way, working for Yaga. Or with the junior drivers, like Nanami suggested. “But does it matter if you’re not done, either?” 

Because Suguru is a team principal for one of the most successful teams in G1 history. He’s the youngest on the grid, and the only way through for him is up, Satoru is sure. His career is beginning, and Satoru’s feels like it’s ending. 

“I guess not.” 

“We don’t have to decide anything,” Satoru finds himself saying, “there’s still a lot of things I need to know about you, and what happened in seven years, and–” 

“A lot has happened to you in seven years, too.” 

Satoru scoffs, “yeah,” then, as he remembers, “you know, I thought Mimiko and Nanako were your kids when they first popped up. I went insane, trying to figure out how they were linked to you,” 

Suguru laughs, disbelieving, and leans back in his seat, “really? They’re the same age as Yuuji and Megs, how would I–” then he stops, dragging a hand across his face, “I can’t believe I just called him that.” 

“It’s catching on!” Satoru grins, just as the waitress comes back and asks for their order, so they’re interrupted. When she leaves, and it’s just them again, Suguru leans forward. 

“I can tell you about them, if you want,” 

Satoru grins. 

 

—

 

THE TIPPING POINT: Could Itadori claw back and win the 2022 World Drivers’ Championship for Keicho? / OPINION / G1 News

Written by Josh Kitchener, 19th October 2022

 

At the beginning of the season, Gojo came out swinging for Jujutsu Technical Racing. After two seasons where, arguably, he was off his game, he had a point to prove: I am still the driver who won those six championships, and I am still a contender. 

In 2021, it could very much be argued that his luck was a huge factor in his P2 finish to Keicho’s Okkotsu. Despite the machinery and levels of performance being similar, three DNFs in the early part of the season through no fault of Gojo’s whilst Okkotsu stormed ahead with wins and podiums set the scene for what would end up being a dying title fight by the time Brazil rolled around in November. Okkotsu claimed the title in Qatar, two rounds later. The machinery was, according to JTR’s TP Yaga, “developed too aggressively… and as a result suffered huge reliability issues which hindered both Kento and Gojo in their fight with Keicho.” 

Still, with car issues fixed with the new regulations in 2022, Gojo’s performance in the opening races of this campaign was phenomenal, and a clear-cut reminder of the driver he could be. Out of the opening three races, he won two, and set fastest laps in those races as well. Poor luck plagued him again in Imola and Miami, where a mechanical DNF and contact proved troublesome, but through Spain to Hungary, he showed an incredible run of consistency, not leaving the podium spots on race day once. Going into the summer break, he lead Okkotsu by sixty points, a gap that historically has not been bridged in the second half of the season. Pundits everywhere, myself included, concluded that this season was Gojo’s: an incredible end to a record-breaking career. 

Yuuji Itadori was a surprise signing to Keicho: a last minute poach by the new team principal, Suguru Getou, who just so happens to be the only man to best Gojo in equal machinery, back in their racing days. Yuuji was considered a brilliant prospect for the future: gutsy, but less well rounded, and to be the second driver to a world champion whilst he found his feet in a top team. 

And yet, he’s found a way to surprise all of us. He’s been right behind Gojo in pace, and consistently quicker than his teammate all season, but was plagued by bad luck in the first half of the season, leaving him ten points behind his teammate and seventy behind Gojo, despite having three DNFs to each of the other drivers’ one before the summer break. In Hungary and Belgium, he made serious errors, and was punished harshly for them, and we all thought the season was a write off for him. 

Then: Zandvoort. Then: Italy, a grand chelem. Itadori picked up three wins in a row, with Russia being against the odds, then a second place in Singapore that would have been a win without a late race safety car giving Fushiguro behind a significant tyre advantage. It’s true that the summer break upgrades have given Keicho a significant step up on JTR, but Itadori’s form and consistency is truly something to be marvelled at. With his win in Japan, and Gojo’s DNF, whilst not his fault, the gap has shrunk from eighty points to twenty. Gojo, for the first time since the start of the season, is within reaching distance. 

But to stay within touching distance of the championship with four races left, Itadori must pull off something extraordinary. And the US Grand Prix is set to become the tipping point for both drivers. If Gojo wins, he takes one step closer to becoming the greatest of all time and cementing his legacy. If Itadori wins, he closes the gap by at least seven points, and puts a spanner in the works of an ending decades in the making. Yuuji is yet to beat Gojo on pure pace post summer break – this seems like an opportunity to show everyone watching that this isn’t simply a question of luck. 

With his recent run of form, there’s a real possibility of him being able to do it. 

 

—

 

September 2014, Singapore

 

“Hi!”

Getou turns at the voice. The kid is about the height of his ribs, maybe. That isn’t what makes Getou turn to face him, though. It’s the fact that the kid is speaking Japanese. 

“Hello,” he replies, polite, watching as an older man strides up behind him, looking out of breath. 

“I am so sorry,” he says, also in Japanese, grabbing the kid’s hand, “please, we’ll go, you must be busy.” 

Getou hasn’t spoken Japanese outside of talking to Shoko and Gojo or Suzuka for a long time. “No, it’s okay, I’m running early. Do you want a photo?” 

The kid nods so fast that Getou thinks his head might wobble straight off his head. His– his dad? Takes out a camera and clicks a couple of times, and smiles, trying to grab the kid’s hand again, but he’s slippery and determined to talk to Getou. “I wanna be a driver like you,” he grins, hair sticking up in all different directions. 

“Yeah? You in karts?” Getou says. Most of the kids he meets are in karting, making their way up through the junior leagues one way or another. 

“Ah, we go to watch sometimes, he loves it,” the man behind him laughs, “made a couple friends, haven’t you? But we can only really afford rentals, we live in Europe at the moment,” 

“They say I’m really good,” the kid grins, proudly, and Getou’s heart sinks through his stomach. 

“Come on, Yuuji, we need to let him go, he’s a very busy man,” the man says, and suddenly, as if remembering, the kid- Yuuji, Getou supposes- thrusts out his cap. An old Keicho one, with his number on it. He’s really not supposed to sign stuff like that anymore, especially now, with the renewed rumour mill about him returning to Keicho in 2016 once his contract is up. 

“Can you sign my cap?” His teeth are crooked under his sky-blue braces, and his cheeks are flushed, and- 

“Yeah, sure,” Getou takes it, and pulls a pen from his pocket, “what’s your name?” 

“Yuuji,” the kid says, “I can show you the kanji,” 

Getou nods, watches as he writes his own name in sharpie on the cap, tongue sticking out from between his teeth. He replicates it himself just underneath, writing good luck in karting, one day you’ll race with me. 

Yuuji reads it and he lights up, cheeks round and red. Getou looks up at the man, and then straightens up. “How much money would you need, to get him all the gear for karts?” 

“Uh- I’m sorry?” 

“I want to help you guys out,” Getou says, before he can second-guess himself. 

“No, honestly, Getou, we wouldn’t want to-” 

Yuuji scuffs his feet on the pavement. Getou frowns, “no, I insist. I don’t want anything in return, I don’t need– I don’t need anything.” 

“Grandpa, please-” 

His grandfather sighs, runs a hand down his face. “You’re certain? I- we really can’t repay you,” 

It’s laughable, because all of the money Getou has is stored in a Monacan bank account to avoid tax. He gets paid twenty-five million a year. “It’s okay. He reminds me of me a bit, you know. It’s not fair, that someone shouldn’t get a shot because of something as stupid as money.” 

Yuuji’s eyes have stars in them. “I can get any kart I want?” 

Getou smiles. “Yeah. How old are you?” 

“Twelve,” 

Jesus, thought he was younger, he looks like he’s ten, Getou thinks idly. “Just swing by hospitality later, I’ll write a cheque.” 

Yuuji launches himself forward into Getou, sending him stumbling back a step. “Thank you, oh my god,” 

“It’s okay, just- I’ll ask for one thing in return, actually,” 

Yuuji pulls back, swallowing. 

“You’ve got to promise to not tell the press.” 

 

—

 

Singapore is hot, humid. It’s one of Getou’s least favourite races on the calendar, in all honesty. He isn’t the biggest fan of street circuits and aside from the fact Singapore is a temporary track, it’s also one of the most brutal on the calendar. It’s not fun to drive, with its heavy braking and high humidity. 

But Gojo loves it, because he’s good here and he likes a challenge, like a freak. He’s currently shirtless in the pitlane behind the garages after free practice, begging Shoko to throw an ice bucket over him because he’s dripping in sweat from being in the car. So is Getou, but he’d rather die than do anything but get in an ice bath with his base layers still on. 

“Come on,” Gojo is goading, watching as Shoko hesitates. 

“It’s too heavy, and you’re too tall, I’m never gonna get it on you-” 

“I’ll do it,” Getou hums, walking over and taking the bucket off Shoko. “You can film it,” 

“Okay, no, I don’t want to filmed,” Gojo whines, but it’s much too late and Getou throws the water over the top of him as he squeaks and Shoko laughs. He has no idea if she even managed to get it on video or even get her phone out, but Gojo is shaking himself off like a dog, water droplets flying off him onto Getou’s baselayers. 

Getou watches the way the water drops down his bare skin, over his chest and his shoulders and down the back of his neck. When he looks up at Getou, his skin is flushed and he’s flashing his teeth, grinning wide and brilliant. 

Yeah, he fucking hates Singapore. 

 

—

 

GETOU ON TOP AGAIN IN MARINA BAY: SINGAPORE ROUNDUP

 

VIEW COMMENTS: 

 

Racingfanzzz: at gojo’s best track… he wants that championship bad 

 

—

 

October 2022, USA

 

Megumi yawns, stretching in their car on the way to the track for media day. He looks like a slightly dishevelled cat, having just rolled out of bed. “Are you in a press conference today?” 

“Yeah. With Yuuji, so that’ll be fun. You’re in the other one, right?” 

Megumi nods. “D’you reckon I could make up an illness to get out of it?” 

“Megs! That’s bad,” Satoru laughs, propping up his his sunglasses on his head. “What’s so bad about media?” 

“America.” Megumi says, and yeah, Satoru can agree with that one. American media days are– they’re weird. Recently the higher-ups have been experimenting with a lot of things that make the whole weekend feel like a show, for the fans, apparently. The Europeans all hate it, and Miami always feels a bit disingenuous these days, but–

Yeah, Satoru’s got no defence for it, really. In Miami, a model who he was supposed to meet had stared at him as he was introduced and squinted, “who the hell is Gojo?” in a southern drawl that made him almost keel over laughing. She’d only known him by his first name, so Satoru supposes that’s on him, really. 

Anyway, Americans. Quirky.

“I’d vouch for you if you said you were throwing up,” Satoru says, and Megumi groans. 

“No, I need to save my excuses for when I really need them.” 

“Oh, you’re planning on having a scandal?” 

Megumi levels him a look that makes even him wither, just a bit. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT – THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE ONE - US GP 2022 - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji Itadori (Scuderia Keicho), Nobara KUGISAKI (Meiji) & Miwa KASUMI (Haein) – Hosted by Yuki Tsukumo

 

Q: Welcome all. Yuuji, since you’re closest to me, I’ll start with you, another win in Japan last time out, your seventh win of the season and the eighth in your career so far. You really seem to be finding form after the summer break, is there any particular reason for that? 

YUUJI ITADORI: I dunno, I think I kind of just had enough after Hungary and Belgium. Canada, Miami, if you go back even further. I was within touching distance of the championship at the start of the season and it was slipping away from me often through no fault of my own, and then the pressure in Belgium– I’ve made mistakes, of course, but I’ve been punished quite harshly for them in the standings. I’ve had a few DNFs that weren’t my fault. And I got to Zandvoort and thought it’s now or never, and I’ve just focused up, made it into a mission, and it’s paid off. 

Q: After Gojo’s crash in Japan, you are twenty points off him in the standings. Do you think that gap can be bridged? 

YI: Yes. I think it will go down to the last race, but yes, that gap can be crossed. 

Q: Gojo, coming to you, how are you feeling after that crash last week? It was a pretty high speed corner. 

SATORU GOJO: I was pretty rough after! [laughs] But I’m feeling better now, back to training at full capacity, so. Yeah, ready to race.

Q: And the championship. Right down to twenty points from eighty, does that put the pressure on? 

SG: More than it was before, definitely. I think I quite like the pressure, though. It makes things fun. 

 

—

 

Satoru qualifies on pole, and Yuuji qualifies in P3. Megumi denies him a front row start, which means he gets a bear hug from Satoru in parc ferme. A front row lockout for any team is brilliant, and Yaga grabs him over the barrier and almost knocks both of them over with his strength. 

Of course, it’s Yuki doing the interviews. Yuuji goes first, and Satoru watches him smile and nod with a set jaw at Yuki’s questions, and mention a mistake he made in the last run of Q3. Not happy with a P3 start. God, Satoru knows he’s left the sport in good hands. Yuuji is insatiable. 

Megumi goes next, and he, too, doesn’t seem entirely satisfied with P2. He hasn’t managed a pole yet, though, and to be this close and this far definitely has to be frustrating.

“Gojo, another pole, great drive from you today, how was the track out there for you?” 

“Good. I like this circuit,, it’s fun to drive. I don’t think there was much more out there, but it was good enough, so I’m happy.” 

“Does Megumi splitting the two title fighters take the pressure off slightly?” 

Not at all, Satoru thinks. “Somewhat. It’s definitely a bonus to have a driver in the middle to make his job more difficult, and we’ll be sure to maximise the advantage of that front-row lockout tomorrow,”

Yuki smiles, raising her eyebrows like she doesn’t believe him. “Thank you Gojo,” 

 

—

 

October 2014, Japan

 

“Suguru, a home race for you, how’s the feeling coming in off the back of three back-to-back wins? Could you replicate last year’s win, here?” 

Getou grimaces inwardly. It’s a stupid question, really: it’s not a question of whether he can: the Jujutsu is the fastest car by miles and he–

He needs to, to stay with a chance of winning this championship. 

“The atmosphere has been incredible,” he says, into the microphone, “I love this race, and this track–” even if it makes him feel sick, going through turn fifteen- “and being home is a unique feeling. Of course, it’s home for the team, too, and I’ll do everything possible to bring home a win for myself, my fans, and everyone in the team.” 

 

—

 

The owner of Koi is here, this weekend, parading himself around and shaking hands in the garage, smiling bright and wide with his obnoxious American accent. He grasps at Getou’s hands, with that same smile, and says, “I’m rooting for you again, you know. Those wins have been incredible.” 

“Thank you,” Getou says. It’s not a simple good luck wish. It’s a threat, thinly veiled. 

 

—

 

In FP1 and FP2, Getou is slower than Gojo. Shoko squints at the data. Their braking points are nearly identical, but Gojo is extracting more, like a man possessed. 

“We could– we could tweak a few things, to try and get some more speed on the straights.” 

“Okay, do it then.” 

Shoko chews on her pen. “Suguru– are you sure? We’ll sacrifice some tyre deg-” 

“You know the car better than me,” Getou says, short. Because she does, and he trusts her. “Change it for FP3, and if it’s bad, we can reverse it before quali, right?” 

Shoko hums. “Okay.” 

 

—

 

October 2022, USA

 

Satoru ends up bumping into Suguru in the pitlane as they get ready: Suguru is stuck in an interview, eyes wide as he gets asked a no-doubt stupid question about performance or whether they can beat Jujutsu Tech out on track today. He spots Satoru, and widens his eyes just minutely, like he used to do when they were teammates and he needed rescuing. 

Even before they were teammates, really. It might have started in karting, when Satoru regularly needed rescuing from well-wishers and Shoko’s family and everyone in between, and he started returning the favour when people started asking why Suguru wasn’t moving up the grades. 

“Hello,” Satoru grins, shouldering up alongside Suguru in front of the cameras, holding his hand out so that they come together in a handshake. Very bro-like. Great acting. Suguru smiles. 

“Hello,” Suguru replies, and Yuki, who’s the reporter, grins, cat-like. 

“Gojo, just who we wanted to see! How are you feeling about today?” 

“Good,” Satoru says, “better if you fuck up the strategy, eh?” He shoulders Suguru lightly, and he laughs in response. 

“I won’t be doing that,” he raises an eyebrow, “besides, we have strategists, unlike you-” 

“You two seem friendly,” Yuki looks like she’s caught them red-handed. Satoru knows she’s done no such thing. “At the beginning of the season things were hostile between you,"

“Ah, well.” Suguru looks fleetingly at Satoru, and he knows he has to step in. 

“We’re friends. Easier when you don’t pose a threat to me, huh?” 

Suguru rolls his eyes, and swallows, “of course, it’s easier when we’re not spending every waking hour together,” 

“Well,” Yuki starts, and then Satoru hears the start of the announcements and the crowd starts thinning a little and he remembers rather conveniently that he’ll get a fine if he’s late to the anthems. 

“Sorry, Yuki, have to dash,” he grins, adjusting his sunglasses and tripping over his own feet, digging his shoulder into Suguru’s back, “anthems and all, have fun!” 

Suguru follows, handing the microphone he was holding back to a camera operator and humming out a tight, “ciao!” as the two of them walk away. 

“Thanks,” Suguru says, as soon as they’re out of earshot. Satoru flushes. 

“I didn’t mean it, by the way. The threat thing.” 

“It’s okay, I know,” Suguru says, “good luck, out there today.”

Satoru stops, like an idiot, “thanks, uh. You too.” 

Suguru rolls his eyes, “run, I can hear the anthems starting.” 

Satoru turns, focuses, and hears them too. He sprints, only just makes it in time. 

 

—

 

“Radio check?”

“All good.” Satoru replies. He leaves his visor up for the formation lap, just to take it all in. the feeling. 

He settles into pole position like an old home he never left, and clicks down the visor. The world goes a shade darker, a shade more bearable. He watches Megumi pull in beside him, and Yuuji behind him. 

The lights come on. The engine roars beneath him. Time to put on a show. 

 

—

 

COMMENTATORS’ TRANSCRIPT, US GRAND PRIX 2022

 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: This Grand Prix has provided us with some incredible racing, hasn’t it? 

YUKI TSUKUMO: Absolutely– and we still have racing left, I think, because we have ten laps left of this race, and Yuuji is catching Gojo hand-over-fist, here, he’ll be within striking distance within the last five laps, if he keeps up this pace. 

MN: We’re about to get a brilliant race to the line, buckle in! 

YT: If there’s any more pace in that Jujutsu, Gojo needs to use it now, but his tyres are older than Yuuji’s. This should be interesting. 

 

—

 

The Circuit of the Americas has two DRS zones, one down the pitlane straight, and the second out of turn eleven, hurtling down towards the sharp hairpin of turn twelve. 

There’s three laps left. Yuuji is within his DRS, point-nine behind at the detection zone, and Satoru grits his teeth, getting on the throttle as they pass the start-finish line. 

He defends all the way through the lap, even with the gap shrinking, but his tyres are near-on gone, and finding grip is starting to become difficult. 

It happens into turn one, under braking, with the help of DRS down the straight. Yuuji pulls off a manoeuvre that has Satoru feeling both weirdly proud and absolutely fuming because he’s in the other car, and he tries to stay close. 

“You’re point-four behind, come on,” Shoko says, and he gets DRS himself down the straight after turn eleven, but Yuuji defends brilliantly through turn twelve, even though they’re wheel-to-wheel, and after that, there’s not much he can do before they reach the chequered flag. 

“P2, Satoru, hard luck there,” 

Satoru swears without pressing on the radio button. 

He wishes Yuuji wasn’t so good. 

But still: game on. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY- TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	344
2	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	326
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	279
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	274
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	225
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	172
7	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	75
8	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	108
9	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	104
10	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	73

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	618
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	605
3	Sengoku (=)	397
4	Meiji (=)	212
5	Haein (=)	85
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	76

 

—

Notes:

shaking, crying, screaming, they had a conversation 210k in... japan 2014 next chapter... 2014 finale next chapter... good luck guys!

the track in this chapter is COTA! Happy japanese GP week, pls manifest a leclerc win for me!!!!!. thanks!

that points gap at the top huh... ruh roh

Chapter 21: xxi - pole position

Summary:

The first place on the starting grid, as awarded to the driver who recorded the fastest lap time in qualifying.

Notes:

miami grand prix hit like crack, went so hard that i wrote like 7k in one day and ... bon appetit. everyone thank lando norris for the early update, along with the sprint bot in greaterglow's discord channel, ive been abusign that mf today. might go insane again at imola (pray for the ferrari upgrades to work! thanks!)

2014 is almost done.. but not quite. next chapter is gonna hit like crack.

enjoy!

October 2014, Japan

 

Getou isn’t necessarily a fan of using the phrase the car just came alive today , but in the third free practice it feels like it. They run the qualifying simulations late in the session, trying to get representative conditions out there, and he comes out clear of Gojo by half a second. 

When he clambers from the car in the garage after the chequered flag, he lifts his visor straight up, and Shoko meets him halfway there, grinning. “It worked.” 

“You’re a genius,” Getou grins, even though she probably won’t be able to see it through his helmet, even with the visor lifted. 

He sees Gojo pulling himself from the car in his peripherals, keeping the visor down like he always does, to keep the sunlight out. Getou wishes he could see his eyes, see the disappointment clouding them at not being on top for once. 

Gojo goes to Yaga, who says– something. Getou isn’t sure. 

The garage is split in two, and Getou doesn’t need to know what Yaga is saying. It makes no sense to need to know the details of his set-up, or what he’s doing with the car. God knows Gojo offers up enough of that information by himself anyway: Getou has made more than one successful strategy decision based on something random that Gojo said without thinking about it. 

But he wants to know everything, down to the millisecond: the brake points, the degrees of the front wing, the tyre degradation rates. But he can’t. 

 

—

 

2014 JAPANESE GRAND PRIX: Qualifying Round-up / G1 News

Written by Katie Esther, 

 

Jujutsu Tech’s Suguru Getou has taken pole for the Japanese GP by a half a second margin to Keicho’s Iori Utahime, setting him up well to attempt to defend his win here last year. “It felt incredible out there, we made a set-up change for FP3 and it just gave us that edge. So really all the praise should go to my engineer, she suggested it, she’s incredible.” 

Utahime seemed much more cautious to celebrate, but equally optimistic about the race tomorrow. “Our setup is less aggressive, I think. There’s definitely a balance to be achieved with the tyre wear around this track, and we’re hoping to find it. I think it’ll be a case of trying alternate strategies tomorrow and playing by ear– I don’t think that JTR will be as competitive over race distance as that.” 

 

—

 

October 2022, Monaco

 

Satoru is sleeping deeply when his phone rings. It takes him a moment to find it through the haze of his vision, still blurred with sleep. Still, the ring shocks him awake, makes him forget where he is for a moment. 

“Hello? Who’s calling?” He grumbles into the reciever, letting his eyes fall closed again and his phone slip through his fingers. He left it on do not disturb, so realistically there’s only a few people it could be, but-

“Hey, I’m thinking about buying a house in Monaco,” Megumi’s voice comes through on the other end of the line, blunt and unaffected as usual. It’s quite the statement to wake up to, that’s for sure. 

“Ah. So when did you decide that?” 

There’s a lengthy pause from Megumi, who rustles something as he moves. “Did you only just wake up? It’s like, two in the afternoon.” 

Satoru scowls. “Some of us are affected by jetlag.” 

“I think you’re just old.” Megumi huffs, “anyway, I saw there was something for sale in your apartment block and I wanted to ask about it,” 

Blinking slowly, Satoru sits up, thinking oh, so we’re still having this conversation now, then. “Uh– yeah. It was– it was Riko’s, though, Megs.” 

The pause is a little comical, honestly. “Ah.” 

“You didn’t know that?” 

“No. I– I don’t tend to keep up with where all the old drivers used to live, to be honest,” Megumi says, and if Satoru didn’t know him any less well, he wouldn’t catch it. The hesitation.

“I don’t mind,” Satoru says, easy, placating. It’s like coaxing a scared cat out of where they’ve lodged themselves in a trap, or something. “I would prefer you, than a stranger.” 

It’s belonged to a stranger for the last decade, after all. Satoru has always felt something twist inside him, watching the man come and go. Like he shouldn’t be there. It had taken a year to find a buyer for it after she died, and both Suguru and Satoru had refused to be too friendly with the guy. Maybe that’s why he’s finally moving, after all these years. 

“I mean… me? Out of everyone, me?” 

Satoru knows what he means. Fushiguro’s son, the man who killed her. Inheriting something that, for a very brief period of time, was hers. Something that Satoru, back when he was young and stupid, had believed would be hers forever. 

“Megs, you should have it. You’re young and you’re talented, and that place should belong to a racer.” There’s a hum on the other end of the phone, non-committal. Satoru huffs. “Look, I know the guy selling it, I’ll get his number for you, you can call him, or not,” 

“Thanks,” Megumi hums. “Is it nice in there?” 

“I haven’t been there for almost ten years, but– yeah. It was nice. You could see the water from it, I used to be so jealous of her,” 

There’s silence for a moment. Satoru can imagine the way Megumi is chewing on the inside of his cheek, nervous. Unsure. “Why’re you moving, anyway? I thought living in Nice was okay?” 

“It is.” Megumi says, short. Satoru’s ensuing silence must push him to elaborate, “Yuuji asked if I wanted to live with him, and obviously I’m not going to do that because it’s an idiotic idea, but– I want to be closer,” 

Satoru can’t help it– he laughs, full bodied. Megumi protests over the line, and Satoru regrets not hearing it over his own laughter. “God, Megs, I’m proud of you.” 

“Alright, yeah. Thanks.” 

“So, when’s the wedding date?” 

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi snaps, without bite, then, quieter, “It’s not about- um. Nobara is trying to move too. She doesn’t want to live in England anymore, she says. But there’s a lot of contract negotiations, and she can’t say much, but I think she’s gonna say yes to us.” 

“To JTR, you mean? I’m not gonna be there if she is, y’know.” 

“As if it isn’t always gonna be your team,” Megumi says, and Satoru can hear the roll in his eyes, “but– yeah. I wanted it to be us three, together. So.”

Satoru blinks and looks at the ceiling. The three of us, together. “Yeah, the three of you. I’m happy for you,” 

 

—

 

Me: [CONTACT ATTACHED]

Me: theres th rl estate guy’s no btw

 

MEGUMIIII ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ: Thanks. I’ll call him later maybe

MEGUMIIII ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ: I have to go for a run later if you want to join?

 

Me: ur in monaco? 

 

MEGUMIIII ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ: Going back home tonight

MEGUMIIII ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ: Just staying with yuuji

 

Me: got it 

Me: yh ill join

 

—

 

Shoko rubs her palms over her face vigorously as she stares down at her wine glass, curled up on Satoru’s sofa. It’s late, dark outside, getting cold. Winter has set in. “Should we be pushing for another minor upgrade?” 

“We have three races left,” Satoru hums, looking back at the TV screen, playing some true crime documentary that he’s long since zoned out of. “I think it’s on me, now.” 

“It’s still our job to give you a car you can win with,” Shoko hums, “the Keicho is pretty even with us now,” 

“You know as well as I do that adding anything this late in the season would be a huge task.” Satoru replies, leaning back against the pillows. “Even if it’s something from next year’s car.” 

Shoko presses her lips together: Satoru has read her mind. She was thinking of pushing something forward, trying to push the boundaries of what is possible. “Satoru.” 

“You don’t think I’m the better driver?” Satoru replies, half-teasing, smiling with one side of his mouth. 

“You are the better driver.” Shoko says, “I don’t doubt that for a second. But he’s– there’s something about him. He’s driving like–” She trails off, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Thanks for the compliment.” 

“That’s what you take from that?” 

“I know he’s hungrier than me,” Satoru says, “you don’t have to say it,” 

Shoko curls her upper lip, and turns away. Satoru can only see the curve of her cheek, the set of her jaw. 

Frowning, Satoru slips an arm over her shoulder, pulling her towards him slightly. “What?” 

“I think you’re both just as hungry. Just for different things, and that– it changes things. The DNA of the hunger, it’s different.” 

Satoru stops, stares at her. “Come on, I’m– this is the seventh. There’s no way I’m as hungry for this as I was my first. My first was–” 

He remembers it, the sun, blinding, his head, spinning, Suguru’s arms, soft and safe and warm– “It was like nothing else.” 

“And this is his first,” Shoko hums, “but I think you’re– I think you want this badly enough. Because you want to be finished. With this, with your legacy. And I don’t blame you, and yeah, those things are comparable, but– they’re not the same, of course they aren’t.” 

Satoru grins, lazy, taking in her words, hugging her a little tighter. “You’re so smart, you know that?” 

He shakes her from side to side, and she laughs, but it comes out wet. Satoru immediately hugs her tighter, tries to get a look at her face. Her eyes are wet when she looks at him. “Is it selfish to ask that– for you not to be done?” 

“Shoko-” 

“Because it’s stupid, but in 2014-” she hiccups, “Getou was the same as you, I think. I could tell. In the last two races, he just–” she makes a motion with her hands, miming an aroplane crashing. “He was done. He wanted to be done, but he needed to win to be okay with walking away from the things that were hurting him, and then he just- he disappeared.” 

Satoru’s heart is caught in the spiderweb of everything that’s happened, then and now and inbetween. “I’m not- you know I’d never do that to you.” 

“I know. But it sometimes feels like a tightrope, this whole thing. If we walk away from this– from this sport, I don’t want us to fade into nothing just because we’re not forced together anymore.” 

Satoru lets it breathe, the heaviness of it. The confession, the vulnerability. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, come on. I’m gonna be annoying on the sidelines every weekend cheering for Megs and Nobara, you know. And Yuuji, even if he beats me.” 

“Not Yuuta?” 

“Everyone. God, I’ll cheer on the team, I’ll cheer on Keicho. Wherever you go, if you go and build a hypercar, I’ll drive it. You know you’re my best friend.” 

Shoko tips her head onto Satoru’s shoulder, punching him in the side weakly. “I know.” 

 

—

 

October 2014, Japan

 

The tyres drop off quicker than they expect them to, even though they’d been semi-expecting it with the setup change for qualifying. Getou has to stop earlier in the first stint than he was expecting to after locking up through the first hairpin and creating a flat spot that forces him to pit early. 

Still, they’re down to the last ten laps, and the nearest car is Gojo behind, and he’s so sure they’re on track for another win, another gap closed, closer in the standings. 

But the gap between them is getting smaller lap by lap. “Gojo behind, he has DRS,” 

“We’re racing him?” Getou breathes out, thumb shaking on the microphone button, breathing hard. The seat feels like it’s crushing his ribs, foot on the throttle, getting away down the straight. Suzuka is hard to overtake at, but they both drove here a bunch in G4 and a move from Gojo wouldn’t be something completely unexpected. 

“Affirm, his tyres are ten laps newer, Getou,” 

Ten laps. Getou takes a deep breath, glancing in his mirrors and seeing Gojo close in as they take the hairpin. 

If it were any other time, he might enjoy it. Racing with Gojo. They know each other so well, after all, and they push each other right to the limits of what’s possible. If Getou’s being honest, no one else lights him up like Gojo does. 

Nothing lights him up like beating him. 

“What’s the gap?”

“Point-four, keep it up, if you have any more pace, use it.” 

Getou thinks about it, chooses to drive tactically. If he lets Gojo past, he can use the DRS to get him back in the last couple of laps, not have to worry about defending so much. 

“Copy.”

The engine roars around him, vibrating through his skin, through his ribs. He feels sick even on an empty stomach. 

“Point-two,” 

Getou grits his teeth, flying up the S curves, blinking and moving through degner, with Gojo hot on his heels. Through the hairpin, wheel to wheel, and there’s three laps left and Getou wants this badly. Needs it. They fly up into spoon, wheel to wheel, and it’s not really somewhere that is good for overtakes, but Gojo is carrying so much speed on the newer tyres–

It happens a bit too quickly, really, for Getou to really understand what’s happened until it’s done. He gets a snap of understeer, and Gojo is already so close on the inside. Their wheels touch, and the steering wheel snaps, and then it’s over. The car spins out into the gravel, and Getou tries to keep his hands on the wheel, tries to stay in control, but it’s over. 

When he looks around, Gojo is in the gravel too. Getou has no idea how he got there, but there’s smoke and the wheels are still spinning, so- Gojo’s trying to get out of there. 

“Are you okay?” Shoko says, in his ears, and he remembers where he is. Japan. His home crowd. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Getou says, and Shoko replies telling him to turn off the engine, take the steering wheel off. He does, standing up, hopping out of the cockpit, feet sinking into the gravel. A few metres away, Gojo is climbing out, throws the steering wheel to the gravel and looks up at Getou. 

He doesn’t move. Getou expects it, the anger. The seething response to having both of their races ended prematurely when they were on for a one-two finish. 

What he doesn’t expect is the cool gaze, the leaving the visor down so Getou can’t see his eyes, the way he’s looking at Getou. His hands flex by his sides. He bends down to pick up the steering wheel, reattaches it to the car. 

He walks off without looking back. The stewards and the medical car are hovering, and he can only focus on Satoru’s shoulders retreating from him, set and cold and unresponsive. 

In a rush, he fumbles with the strap on his helmet, fingers shaking as bile rises up his throat. The helmet comes off, in his hands, his balaclava with it, and he throws it to the gravel as his whole body retches against his will. 

There’s nothing to come up, is the thing. His throat burns. One of the stewards is by him, immediately, a hand on his shoulder as he quivers. It’s pathetic. An elite athlete, and all it takes to unravel him is this: a championship fight and the person he’s in love with slipping through his fingers. 

It’s been slipping for a while. Longer than he wants to admit. 

“You okay?” 

It’s Japanese, and it’s a comfort, even if Getou will never admit that to anyone. His hands are shaky on the gravel, and he’s still trying to breathe slowly. 

It’s like before: like Monaco. And instead of soft, Gojo’s tone is stony. His visor is still down, his gloves are still on. Getou looks up at it, sees his own reflection, the sweat and his red eyes and the bob of his throat. 

“Yeah,” 

Gojo goes. Dips into the medical car whilst he can’t stand up. It’s probably good they’re separate in the end. 

 

—

 

Getou has never seen Yaga this angry. There’s no one else in the room, apart from Gankuganji and Shoko. Really, Yaga has been a deputy to Gankuganji for a while, and Getou answers to him, too, but he– it’s not been like this since the beginning of the season. 

“What the hell was that.” 

Getou looks to Gojo, who is looking straight ahead, eyes cold and unmoving. He has his jaw set, arms folded over his chest. He doesn’t move. “Don’t ask me.” 

“I am asking you.” Yaga grits his teeth, “I told you specifically on the radio to be careful, to bring the cars home.” 

“My tyres were younger, and I had the racing line, I was fucking fine.” Gojo growls, storm brewing, “he turned in on me.” 

“I had a snap of understeer-” Getou hears himself say, from outside his own body. 

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Gojo snaps, “you’re kidding me. You’re fucking kidding me. You know how many offers I’ve had from other teams? I don’t need to be here. I’ve won two championships, if you sit here and blame me for what happened out there I’m walking out and not getting in that car for the rest of the season.” 

“No, don’t be ungrateful. I’ve given you your championship car,” Gankuganji speaks up, level, “you have a contract. You will not be threatening us, Gojo.” 

“Why am I being blamed?” 

“Because you made a risky move on your teammate when there was no need for it.” 

“We’re fighting each other in the championship-” 

Yaga slams his hand down on the table in front of him, so forcefully that it makes even Shoko in the corner jump. Gojo even twitches slightly. Then Yaga booms, “I don’t care. You signed a contract to a team, which means not taking each other out in a preventable incident where you are both at fault for losing nearly fifty points. Am I clear.” 

“Fuckin’ crystal,” 

“Gojo.”

“Are you not gonna say anything?” Gojo rounds on Getou, teeth glinting in the fluorescent light. “Or are you just gonna sit there looking pathetic. ‘Cause you know it was your fault out there today, and you fucked yourself over by prioritising quali set-up and we all know it,” 

“I was defending the position,” his body feels like jelly, all the adrenaline gone, fading. His vision is shaky. “What the hell did you expect me to do?” 

“He speaks!” Throwing his arms up, Gojo grins, wild. “Thought you’d lost your voice, after all that.” 

“Satoru,” Shoko murmurs, from the corner of the room, but Gojo either ignores it or doesn’t hear it at all. 

“Y’know, at the moment you’re acting like you’re entitled to this championship, like I shouldn’t fight you at all, and you’d rather take us both out than just admit that I was faster out there today,” 

“That’s not true,” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“GOJO.” Yaga slams a hand down on the table again, “We are not doing this. Not now, not ever, for fuck’s sake. We are going to go out there, and we are not going to assign blame because we do not need either of you to take a penalty when we go to Russia, because we are still a team, in a battle with Keicho for the constructors’. Am I clear?” 

Gojo’s upper lip curls. For a moment, Getou thinks he’s going to say something else. That he’ll bite back, one last time. “Yeah, you’re clear. If this is how we wanna play the championship, this is how we’ll play it.” 

“Getou?” 

Getou nods, forcing out a weak, “yes,” as Yaga sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and waving his hand in the air. 

“Go. And don’t incriminate each other to the press, please. I’m not concerned with laying blame as long as this never happens again.” 

Gojo goes, with a squeak of his chair and a slam of the door. Getou flinches as he does, standing slower. “Sorry, Yaga.” 

“Don’t be sorry.” Yaga says, not looking at him. “Make up for it.” 

The dizziness catches up to him almost as soon as he steps outside, black spots blurring his vision, using his hand to steady himself as he blinks. “Suguru?” 

Getou tries to nod, tries to get the words out to reassure her he’s okay, really, but she’s got her hands under his sides and she’s lowering him to the ground in the hallway and– 

He’s crying. He feels it distantly, the tears on his own cheeks. He feels the hollow in his stomach and the way his body aches, burning with exhaustion. 

“Suguru, Jesus, should I get a medic?” 

Getou manages to get out a faint no, shaking his head. Shoko stays, breathing in time with him, sat on the floor. “Suguru. I really think I should get someone.”

Getou can’t have anyone else seeing him like this. He can’t. Fresh panic floods through him. They’ll know he’s weak, that his mindset is decaying by the day, that he’s not worthy of anything he’s been given. Shoko tries to stand up, and Suguru reaches for her, missing. 

“No, come on, Shoko.” 

She looks down at him, eyes full of– fear? Pity? And the panic boils over into anger. Why is he here, on the floor, whilst Gojo probably is swanning around shit-talking him to the press? Why is he struggling to eat anything at all whilst Gojo inhales about three takeaways at the end of every race weekend? Why is he working so hard for nothing?

“Can you not. Please.” 

Shoko’s face does something complicated, somersaulting between offended and concerned. “Suguru, what’s this about? I’m– I dunno how to say this, like, in a way that doesn’t scare you, but I’m worried about you.” 

“Why would that scare me.” 

Shoko scoffs, exhaling through her teeth, “dude. You won’t let me get anyone to help you. You’re losing weight all the time- I-” 

“You don’t have to worry about anything else apart from the car and the race, I’m fine.” 

He means it to put an end to this conversation, rapidly derailing away from where he needs it to go. From where he is safe. 

Shoko folds her arms across her chest. “Are we not friends? I’m your friend. I can be worried for you outside this sport, you know,” 

“Maybe you should worry more about giving me a setup that doesn’t cook its tyres in the race.” 

The words are out there before he can consider them, hanging between them, and Shoko– 

“I didn’t mean that-”

“Yeah? Then why did you say it?” 

Getou has nothing for that, no rebuttal, no words. Shoko scoffs, disbelieving, brows crinkling in on themselves, blinking rapidly. “You’re a fucking asshole. You asked for that setup, you begged for it, and I warned you. You wanted track position in quali and I gave you that. I did my fucking job,” 

There’s a long moment of silence. It’s sharp, and Suguru feels it cutting further into him with every passing second. “Shoko, I’m–” 

“Save it.” Her voice jumps around the words. “I– I know you’re struggling. But if you don’t let me help you and you wanna be an asshole, you can find a new engineer next year.” 

He can’t fight this. He can’t fight the way that everything is falling apart. He watches her go. 

Eventually someone else finds him sat on the floor when he doesn’t go to press. They let him skip. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR POST-RACE INTERVIEW - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing) - JAPANESE GP 2014 - G1TV

 

Q: Gojo. Tough break out there today. 

SATORU GOJO: Sure, tough break. Not how we wanted to round out this weekend. 

Q: So, contact with your teammate ended your race today. Both of you remain ahead of Utahime in the standings, but obviously a lot of points lost out there. How do you move forward? 

SG: Uh. We won’t crash again. That’s clear. The fact I have to say that about my own teammate is insane, but we are fighting for the title right now, I guess. Utahime is too far down really to make any dent in the points gap. 

Q: Has the team placed any blame? The higher ups of course said there was no further investigation. 

SG: I mean, the audience can draw their own conclusions, seeing the replays. Our bosses aren’t assigning blame, we both made mistakes to cause that collision and we’ll just move forward. 

Q: Just before you go, does this affect your relationship? You two are close friends, and obviously these on track squabbles can make things tense. 

SG: I hope it doesn’t affect our friendship. I’ve been trying to keep things separate. After today, well. We’ll see. The ball’s in his court. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR POST-RACE INTERVIEW - Toji FUSHIGURO (Sengoku Racing) - JAPANESE GP 2014 - G1TV

 

Q: So, Toji, third place for you today, mostly as a result of the collision of the two front runners late in the race. How are you feeling? 

TOJI FUSHIGURO: Good. Always nice to get a podium. 

Q: What do you think of the collision? Have you seen it? 

TF: Immature racing. You don’t let your personal vendettas get in the way of your driving, that’s just common sense. 

 

—

 

October 2022, Mexico

 

Even in the last week of October, it’s warm in Mexico city, but not awful like Singapore or Miami. Not humid, this week. There is rain forecast, though, coming in sometime on Sunday. At the moment, it’s supposed to just miss them, but- 

He pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes, pushing his hair back from his forehead. The track is warm, tarmac heating up under the early afternoon sun. The track walks this year are more to Megumi’s benefit than Satoru’s, but he still goes, makes sure to re-review the turns through the lens of the 2022 car. 

They’re heavier this year, after all. Wider. Satoru can’t really say he’s a massive fan, but he doubts the higher-ups particularly care about what he has to say on the matter, despite being a driver. He doesn’t tend to gripe about it like some of the other older drivers do, tired of arguing his case, but he can’t pretend it hasn’t irked him over the years. 

Nanami in particular has spoken about struggling with his back, and he’s definitely seen Yuuji holding himself as he’s gotten out of the car after some of his more disappointing races where the adrenaline can’t carry him through the pain. 

Toto pants softly as he walks alongside Megumi. He has the boots on again, to help with preventing burning on the tarmac, and a cooling vest. Satoru likes his little outfits. 

They stand and stare down the straight. Megumi wrinkles his nose at it. It will be his first time racing here, since the G2 championship doesn’t go to Mexico. “Two massive straights, the Sengoku guys are gonna struggle.” 

“Mhm, we’re not them, though,” Shoko hums, beside them. She’s got a notebook in her hands, scribbling notes in shorthand. 

Their car is fast on the straights, even more so than the Keicho. They won’t be in trouble here, for sure. 

“The elevation–” Megumi hums, “how different is that gonna feel?”

“We’ll adjust some stuff,” Shoko replies, “open the cooling a bit. Run more downforce, y’know.” Kamo nods alongside her, agreeing. 

“Well, I know that, but it’s still- I mean, I can feel it and we’re not even driving it,”

Satoru laughs, looping his arm over Megumi’s shoulders as they walk. Megumi tries unsuccessfully to shrug him off. “You’re adaptable, you’ll be fine. It feels a little different, with the aero, but– you’ll figure it out.” 

Megumi smiles lazily. “Oh, thanks. You’re so helpful.” 

Satoru puffs his chest out. “I know I am.” 

 

—

 

Yuuji seems like he’s in a good mood waltzing along the paddock as Satoru steps out of the Jujutsu motorhome. 

“Oh, hey, you going to the pressers?” He grins with all his teeth. They sometimes seem a bit too big for his mouth. Satoru smiles back. 

“Yeah, we both in?”

Yuuji nods, “yeah, so all the questions will be directed at us about the title fight.” He’s grinning, “cause it’s only Nanamin and Mai.” 

“Mai?” Satoru grimaces. 

“Oh, I forgot you don’t like her.” 

“She’s not my favourite upcoming driver, I have to admit,” humming, Satoru looks at Yuuji in his baggy jeans and team top. He’s wearing what must be about fifty bracelets. Popular even in Mexico. “What were you doing down that end of the paddock anyway?” 

“Filming something with Nobara,” Yuuji says, “it probably won’t come out til after the race, though.” 

“All three of you might be in top teams next year,” Gojo says. It’s more of a thought spoken out loud than a genuinely considered sentence. 

“She definitely wants to move away from that team,” Yuuji replies, because he also has no brain-to-mouth filter and definitely doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. “Y’know, Mai’s side is insane.” 

“Like, politics?” 

“Always with the Zenins, right? They wanted priority for upgrades and everything, even though they’re nowhere near the front and Nobara keeps out-performing her, now. Apparently they were harassing the trainers about weight and meal plans too,” 

That is some of the more thoroughly insane things Satoru has heard about the Zenins. Even when he was a teammate to Toji, the atmosphere had been thick, and he’d long since married out of the family, tried to shake them off. 

Well, he said he tried to. Satoru isn’t really sure if he believed him. 

“Jesus.” 

Yuuji raises his eyebrows. “Yeah. She’s gotta get out of there, I said. Might take another rookie to Meiji then. Maybe, like, Nanako or something, if she can’t get a seat for a second season in G2.” 

“She’s not done any testing, though,” 

“I didn’t do much testing, and I’m doing fine.” 

Satoru wants to argue that actually Yuuji is a prodigy, and a bit of a freak, but he knows it’ll be lost on him. He isn’t really aware of his own talent, in the way a lot of the kids aren’t. He just thinks it’s easy. 

They’re at the doors to the press conference anyway, and Yuuji files in before him. Gojo pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes and braces himself for the wave of questions. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT -  THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE ONE - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji ITADORI (Scuderia Keicho), Mei MEI (Haein) & Nanami KENTO (Sengoku Racing) - 2022 MEXICAN GP

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (LILA SMITH - NextRace.com): For Nanami, there’s been a lot of noise around Sengoku’s car for next year, given the team decided to stop the upgrade program on the current car early. There’s also a new wind tunnel on site for the team’s use as of this year. How confident are you that you can close the gap to JTR and Keicho next year? 

NANAMI KENTO: I’m fairly confident. I wouldn’t have signed with the team and left the very successful project at JTR had I not believed in Sengoku’s ability to catch the leading pack, and I’m encouraged by the progress so far. 

Q (JOSH KITCHENER - G1 Daily): For Yuuji, you have now closed the gap to Gojo in the points standings by a considerable amount and sit less than twenty points behind him with three races remaining. That gap is still going to be difficult to close given the lack of points on offer. Are you confident in your ability to close that gap? And Gojo, with a young talent so close to you in the standings, are you still confident in your ability to win a championship, four years after your last victory?

YUUJI ITADORI: Uh. The pressure is immense, yeah, but I’m kind of thriving right now. I like the challenges that this track brings and I’m excited to just– get out there. Let my driving speak for me, y’know? I think we need a little luck, but anything could happen. I mean, look at my team principal’s championship, look at Gojo’s first. I have the chance to do something incredible and I can’t wait to make it happen, for me. For the team. 

SATORU GOJO: For the last four years I haven’t had a car capable of winning championships. That’s the way things go in this sport, and I think there’s a lot of recency bias, people forgetting that I can do this. I’ve shown it time and time again this season, I’ve shown it for the last four years, too, weathering the Keicho dominance. It would be an incredible boost to the team, to leave them with a championship, but– this is for myself, for the record, and [laughs] to finally beat Getou [note: Scuderia Keicho’s current team principal] for a second time. I feel the pressure, but I’ve won six championships under pressure. I’ve got everything to gain from this.

Q: But you also have everything to lose. 

SG: True. The first is different. But I have experience on my side. 

Q (YUKI TSUKUMO - G1TV): A question for Gojo, if I may. I think this is something I’m curious about, but I’ve seen it floating – JTR, after four years, has built a car that is capable of winning championships again. Even if you won this year, holding the record for the most championships, you could break it again in 2024, or 2025. The team wanted to have you back into another long-term deal, according to Yaga [note: team principal, JTR], but you turned it down. What went into the decision to take what you’ve termed a sabbatical, and what others are calling your retirement? 

SG: Jesus. Uh- well. [long pause] I’m getting older. There’s– I know I’ve done a lot outside of racing, but it’s still my entire life. This circus takes up your entire life. And when you’re young, that’s okay, but– [laughs] it’s not, anymore. You know that. You retired in similar circumstances to me, I think, a snap decision. I never wanted to break records when I started. I just wanted to race. The records have come to me through– through. I dunno. The team, I guess. Having the right strategy, the right people. I couldn’t have done it for this long without my engineer, she’s– incredible at her job, my best friend really. I almost quit in 2015, until she came back and said– let’s keep going. But there’s no moderation. And I guess I’m craving that, recently. I made the decision when I had a much bigger points gap in the championship than I do now [laughs] but it stands true. I mean- the team is in good hands, with Megumi. His win at Singapore was sensational and I will always root for him, for the team. They’re my family, truly, but– I’m tired, y’know. 

Q: And if you decide you want to come back to the circus, after a rest year? If you don’t win your seventh? 

SG: I think… I think I’d feel the same. 

 

—

 

November 2014, USA

 

When they get to COTA, it’s the same. Shoko won’t talk to him, and Gojo has laid down the gauntlet: he’s barely speaking to Getou at all about racing, they don’t talk about much else. He still wrinkles his nose at the questions being asked in press conferences, and laughs at stupid lines they’re given. Getou hates that he still notices it, even after winning in Russia, in the rain, and in the USA, in the dry, on pure pace and tyre management. 

He adjusts his watch, blinking slowly as he stands from the press conference table, vision going hazy for a moment. He needs to drink something, probably. 

“Oh, are you okay?” The voice is urgent, and Getou turns, registering it as Utahime. She’s standing with wide eyes, her hand resting on his shoulder. He looks across the room, sees Gojo leaving with his head ducked down, shoulders sloping. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His vision clears, and he sucks in a breath. Utahime doesn’t look convinced, but it doesn’t matter. He rolls his shoulders back, stepping out of the way of the chairs, hopping down. Utahime follows close behind, watching warily. 

 

—

 

‘Friends don’t matter in this battle’ - Getou on rivalry with Gojo

 

GETOU V GOJO: THE BATTLE IS ON / US GP ROUNDUP

 

JUJUTSU TECHNICAL RACING: ‘There will be no team orders for our drivers’ 

 

Getou has the opportunity to dethrone a two-time world champion. Here’s how: G1 NEWS

 

—

 

October 2022, Mexico

 

“Yuki,” 

Yuki looks up from her phone, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. She’s sat with her legs crossed, flared jeans and boots and oozing a particular type of coolness that Satoru wishes he wasn’t jealous of. 

“Gojo. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

Satoru hadn’t been able to hunt her down straight away after the press conference. She’d slipped away, and he had to go to a talk in paddock club, keeping the sponsors happy. But now she’s here, sitting at the edge of Keicho’s hospitality area, sipping an iced drink that’s vaguely peach-pink in colour. Satoru isn’t sure what it is, and he doesn’t want to know. 

“What the hell was that?” 

“Any journalist could have asked you that,” Yuki frowns. “I’m surprised no one had, ‘til now. Honestly, it was burning a hole in my brain.” 

“You could have asked me that off the record,” Satoru levels. His sunglasses are still pulled down, arms folded over his chest, looking down at her. He’s double the racer she is, and he has the titles to prove it. “Come on, Yuki.” 

“Would I have got a more truthful answer off the record?” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” 

Yuki sighs, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, shifting in her seat and shrugging. “Well, the only way to get through to you is to put you on the spot.” 

“How would you know that about me?” 

“I know you well enough, Gojo,” she says, a small smile on her lips. She looks smug and Satoru hates it. 

“No. You don’t. We have never been close, not even when we were both on the grid, and you– in a press conference, really, Yuki?” 

“I got what I wanted.” Yuki says, infuriatingly calm. Satoru has to remember they’re in public, school his face into something neutral. Not that he particularly cares what people think of him now, but– “honestly, you’re a lot more transparent than you think you are.”  

“Did Getou put you up to this?” 

Yuki laughs, a full bodied thing like she knows more than Satoru does, which makes his blood boil. “Oh, Gojo. No. I don’t think he likes seeing you squirm that much, to be honest.” She pauses, takes a sip of her drink. “Well.” 

Satoru’s whole body goes bright red at the implication. They’re not even- “Yuki.” 

“I have my job because I’m good at it, and I know drivers well. Drivers, in general, Gojo, honestly. We’re all the same, motivated by the same things. You’re not special, and I got a good quote out of you. Looking to the future with the juniors and all that. There’s no need to get pissy over it.” 

“I wasn’t-” 

“I know what it’s like, to give up everything for racing, and to realise you want something you can’t have at the same time. Or someone. Sue me for being curious. Getou doesn’t tell me much about you, you know.” 

It shouldn’t be a surprise, and it still is: they’re not as close as he thought, maybe. Either way, they’re still– Satoru shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about how he thought they were sleeping together for a good three years, even when Suguru denied it. “He… doesn’t?” 

“Well, he tells me enough,” Yuki sighs, switching to Italian so that the passersby won’t understand them. It’s a safety blanket, somewhere like Mexico. “He’s told me enough to think that this is a stupid idea, whether you’re racing or not, but once you’re done, they can’t take anything from you for– for this. And I’d be stupid not to have seen it coming. It’s been a long time.” 

“Only this year.” Satoru blurts dumbly, and Yuki shakes her head. “I mean, it’s been– how many years since you’ve been in G1, now? When he was in G3, G2 hovering in our garage, I mean– but I thought it was stupid then, and it’s still stupid now but times have changed, I guess. There’s less prejudice now.” 

“I don’t think he felt like that about me for that long,” Satoru scoffed, “I mean, come on.” 

Yuki looks him up and down, brows creasing in the shadow of pity. “Oh,” 

“What?” 

“Nothing. Not really my place to say, is it?” 

Satoru looks up as Suguru opens the door to the hospitality, coming out with Yuuta in tow. He’s holding a bottle of water. One of the old-fashioned ones, with the long straws. Old habits die hard, Satoru guesses. 

“Ah, hello. Are you murdering her for her question earlier?” He smiles, hand coming down onto Yuki’s shoulder. Yuuta stands just behind, slurping on his own bottle, enjoying the show. 

“Ha. Very funny, it’s my job,” she smiles back at him, and Satoru feels it, the hollow in his chest whenever he looks at them. Wishing he could have something as simple as that, or could have. When he needed it. He’s the shoulder, now, for Megumi, Yuuji, Nobara, but it still aches. In an absent way. 

“No, I’m not murdering her yet,” is what comes out of his mouth, tumbling without his permission, “but I was threatening it.” 

Suguru laughs, eyes crinkling in a way that makes Satoru want to drag him all the way back to the hotel and hide him from everyone else forever. “Honestly, Yuki, you could have been a bit nicer.” 

“If I didn’t ask, Josh or someone would have eventually,” Yuki huffs, “I’ll stand by it.” 

Satoru’s glance flicks to Yuuta, who is just staring, and something clicks in his brain. He switches back to English, “wait, do you even understand Italian?” 

Yuki sniggers as Yuuta withers Satoru with his gaze, speaking in perfect Italian, “yeah. Don’t understand what the hell is going on here, though.” 

Suguru laughs. Satoru commits it to memory. 

 

—

 

November 2014, Brazil 

 

It’s still hot in November in Brazil, enough for Suguru to wear a jacket and feel the sun burning his skin through it, and bright enough that he can wear sunglasses without being considered rude. 

On Saturday, he qualifies in P3, behind Satoru and Utahime, and ahead of the other Keicho driver. He can’t really remember his name, and he doesn’t have to. He’s a reserve, gone next year, replaced by the newest Zenin. 

Everything starts to feel temporary after a while: race to race, year to year, season to season. Next year, his contract is up. Next year, he’ll probably sign a renewal to stay in a top team, and Gojo will too. He’ll keep going until his body gives up. 

It’s Yuki with the microphone this time, after quali. Someone hands him his, and she smiles at him. “P3, how was that lap? It was so close between you all at the end there.” 

“I mean, good.” Getou finds himself speaking, “Interlagos is fun to drive, it’s a short lap, compared to most other places, so naturally it was going to be tight.” 

“This is a circuit where overtaking is incredibly easy,” Yuki continues, “do you think that makes you less worried about qualifying P3?” 

“Sure, anything can happen in the races, so. Points come tomorrow and I’ll do my best to maximise my result.” 

“If you win tomorrow,” Yuki says, with something flashing in her eyes, “you could lead the championship. How is that prospect feeling, for you?” 

Getou sees Gojo shifting from foot to foot in the corner of his eye, talking in low tones to Utahime, who qualified P2. Something churns inside him remembering her pity, in the states. He smiles with all his teeth, “yeah, it feels good.” 

 

—

 

BRAZILIAN GRAND PRIX ROUNDUP: G1 NEWS

Written by Josh Kitchener, November 9th 2014

 

After the proceedings at Interlagos earlier today, which saw JTR’s Suguru Getou storm to a dominant victory, the standings have changed, with him leading his teammate by ten points heading into the final round in Abu Dhabi in two weeks’ time. 

Getou stormed home to take the chequered flag in first, followed by Utahime Iori for Keicho and Toji Fushiguro for Sengoku, in a surprise podium. Satoru Gojo, after picking up damage in an incident with Fushiguro on lap twenty… (CLICK TO READ MORE)

 

—

 

STANDINGS AFTER R18 - 2014 Drivers’ G1 Championship

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Suguru GETOU	Jujutsu Technical Racing	332
2	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	322

 

—

 

October 2022, Mexico

 

“So,” Yaga says, pursing his lips, “we’ve agreed a contract with Nobara.” 

Satoru smiles. “Good. She’s a good driver.” And she deserves more than being teammates with a Zenin goes unsaid. 

“The only thing is that the contract we’ve agreed is a two-plus-one,” Yaga says, lifting his head. “So we wouldn’t be able to welcome you back to JTR after your sabbatical.” 

“Yaga. I’m not-” he swallows around his words. Considers them. “I’m not coming back.” 

“I just thought I’d tell you, you know. You’ve done a lot for us.” 

Gojo smiles. “Yeah. You’d be nowhere without me, huh?” 

It’s true, and it isn’t. In 2010, when the car was nowhere, Gojo put it in the points again and again, working miracles to secure them enough prize money to develop the team, to push them forward. Again, sort of, in 2011, where he lost out to Yuki when Mei Mei was still only just putting the car in the top six. And in 2012. A first world championship.

And yet, he’d be nowhere without Yaga trusting him, putting him in the team, without his advice and his guidance, without his voice on the radio, guiding him home in Interlagos. 

Yaga is still soft when he looks at him, “yeah. We owe you, Satoru,” 

“Build a hypercar for me,” Satoru says, still grinning. 

“Keicho has a hypercar, you know.” Yaga says, and before Satoru can protest, asking what the hell he means, he continues, “we’re going to sign her publicly, in a few hours. If you want to show up, it would probably be good for press,” 

Satoru nods, “yeah, okay.” 

 

—

 

BREAKING: JTR SIGNS NOBARA KUGISAKI ALONGSIDE MEGUMI FUSHIGURO FOR 2023 SEASON / G1 NEWS

Written by Josh Kitchener, 27th October 2022

 

Nobara Kugisaki has signed for Jujutsu Technical Racing today at the Mexican Grand Prix, a huge moment for the young driver. She will partner Megumi Fushiguro next year, making them the youngest driver pairing on the grid. 

 

[Embedded Video Description: Kugisaki entering the Jujutsu motorhome up the main steps, smiling and laughing with staff members as she enters. Gojo stands up to greet her, and she smiles, laughing at him before he pulls her into a tight hug, which she leans into. He rocks her from side to side and she laughs, pushing him away, saying “you’re being an idiot!”]

 

Gojo, the leaving driver, has endorsed her publicly, saying ‘she’s one of the best young talents on the grid right now. I definitely wanted her to be a part of the team after I left and she’s an incredible driver for JTR, now and in the future.’

 

[Image Description: A photo of Megumi and Nobara side by side, laughing. It’s from when they were in G2, in 2021, and they’re in their race suits and baselayers. Nobara is chewing on the long straw of her water bottle on the side of her mouth]

 

‘I’ve been friends with her a long time, since karts.’ Megumi said, ‘And honestly there’s no one else I’d rather be teammates with. We’re close, and I am so happy to see her come here and join our team.’

 

—

 

Megumi gets out of the car gasping for air after the first free practice session. The staff get him out of the way pretty quickly, and Gojo sits on the floor of his drivers’ room for a while, listening to him talk to keep him awake. The elevation change has made him faint. 

It’s the first time in a while where it’s touch and go, but Megumi gets back in the car for FP2, with extra attention being paid to his heart rate. Satoru can’t bring himself to be too worried, watching him suit up like he’s going to war. He knows the risks, knows the way to manage himself. 

His lap times are close to Satoru’s in the end. He ruffles his hair, congratulates him in the debrief, and Megumi glowers, but still sits next to him and looks at him intently when he speaks. 

 

—

 

November 2014, Abu Dhabi 

 

It turns out two weeks is a long time to wait for a race that will change the course of your entire life. 

 

—

 

TITLE DECIDER: WHO WILL TRIUMPH IN ABU DHABI? What each driver needs to do to win the world title / G1 News / Opinion Pieces

 

—

 

His life feels like a haze. 

 

—

 

HAIBARA RULED OUT BY KEICHO TO MAKE A RETURN TO DRIVING IN 2015: ‘The injury is just too severe’

 

—

 

The thing is, he doesn’t even have to beat Satoru to win the championship. He just needs to finish the place below him. 

 

—

 

FUSHIGURO RENEWS WITH SENGOKU

 

—

 

Shoko still isn’t being normal with him. 

 

— 

 

Getou stands on the cusp of the ultimate triumph in G1. It’s long overdue. / ARTICLES / LONG READS

 

—

 

After the first free practice of the weekend, Getou runs straight from the garage when he feels bile rising in his throat, keeling over in the gap between them and Keicho, gasping for air. 

No one comes out to find him. Or maybe they do, and he waves them away. 

“Suguru,” 

That’s Yuki’s voice. 

“Jesus. Have you eaten?” 

He shakes his head. He still knows how to do that. His hands are shaking. 

They end up back in his drivers’ room, with Yuki sitting next to him, unwrapping a protein bar for him. He ends up eating three of them, breathing slowly. His throat still hurts. 

“Is this– are you anxious about the title?” Yuki says, “because you have nothing to worry about. Seriously. You’ll do it.” 

Is it about the title? Getou knows it is, and it isn’t. With a hoarse voice, he whispers, “Shoko isn’t talking to me,” 

“Well, that’d be an issue, considering she’s your engineer,” Yuki laughs. Getou doesn’t. 

“I blamed her for Japan,”

Yuki looks at him, then hisses through her teeth. “Christ, Suguru,” 

“And Gojo won’t– Satoru won’t–” a sob jumps up his throat. He can’t stop it, now. “I’m losing him, and I can’t have both– I-” 

Yuki shushes him, wrapping him up in her arms, breathing deeply, “it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna win this, and you’re gonna be okay,” 

“I don’t think winning will make it better,” Getou says, quietly. He doesn’t know if Yuki hears him or not. She doesn’t reply. 

 

—

 

Two hours later, he’s in the car again. The visor goes down.

 

—

 

ABU DHABI GP 2014: GETOU QUALIFIES ON POLE, GOJO IN THIRD

 

—

 

October 2022, Mexico

 

After about an hour of tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep, Satoru gives in and texts Suguru. 

 

Me: r we in th same hotel ths week

Me: r u awake also

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Ha. Depends. 

 

Me: on wht??? u in schrodingers hotel or smt

Me: yes or no

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Didn’t know you knew what schrodinger’s cat was. 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Yes. Room 73. 

 

Me: poetic 

Me: omw

 

He stands at the door, thinking maybe he’s fucked this, before Suguru beats him to it and opens the door anyway. 

“Hello.” 

“Hi.” 

“Get in, before someone sees you, for fuck’s sake,” Suguru laughs, and Satoru does. They trail over to the bed, and Satoru curls up on top of it, looking up at Suguru. 

“Ah,” Suguru says, “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. You are driving tomorrow.” 

“We could, if you wanted,” 

“Nah.” Suguru smiles, sitting down next to him, pressing his thumb to the gap between his eyebrows. “What’s going on in there?” 

“You know you’re part of the reason I’m retiring, right?” 

Suguru nods, expression relaxed. 

“Okay. Just thought I should tell you you are. ‘Cause I really– even if I keep racing I think this is more important,” 

Suguru’s palm goes to Satoru’s hair. The movement is so soft, so gentle. Satoru can’t believe they were anything else with each other. This feels right. 

Still, Suguru looks shocked, “really?” 

Satoru nods. “I think it always was.” 

Suguru leans down, tugging him up by his hair slightly, kissing him soft and slow. Satoru finds himself whining into it, despite himself. “Yuki was an idiot today,” 

“She’s right, someone else would have asked it,” Satoru says. It’s important to keep the peace. 

“Sure, but she knew what she was doing.” Suguru hums, pressing his lips to Satoru’s again, soft. It doesn’t go anywhere, both of them content to hold each other in the moment.

“When I kissed you-” Satoru says, mind running faster than his mouth, already regretting asking, “the first time, the time I don’t remember, I mean. Was that– did that make you retire?” 

Suguru hesitates, which is already not really the answer Satoru wants to hear, but– to hell with it. He sits up. Suguru sighs. “I had– I’d made the decision before, really. It was–” 

He stutters, licking his lips. “I met Yuki for a bit, after the podium. And I was still holding the trophy, and you’d gone, I can’t remember where. The whole week was a haze. And she was like. You did it. And everything felt–” 

“You don’t have to.” 

“I do.” Suguru says, eyes earnest. “It felt. Hollow. For the longest time I thought winning would make everything okay– Haibara, Riko. My dad. And it didn’t. Shoko wasn’t talking to me. You weren’t talking to me. It wasn’t– it wasn’t worth it. And it was the only way I could win against you, by giving everything.” 

“I’m– I didn’t know.” 

“I was awful to you,” Suguru is laughing, “God, I really, was. I was awful to Shoko too, all of it was just– I was only supposed to go back to Japan for two weeks. originally. See my mom, come back, try and get through 2015. And then my mom saw me, and– well. Yeah, I wasn’t leaving Japan,” 

“We had to buy Nanami out to get him for 2015, y’know,” 

“I know,” Suguru laughs, “I’m sorry,” 

Satoru grins, “you should be! It was expensive!” 

“Oh, the cost cap would have ruined you that year-” 

“Come off it.”

There’s a long pause, and Suguru breathes in, then out, “I’m sorry. For everything. The radio silence. I just- you kissed me, and I had a flight booked that I was planning on keeping secret, because of how sick I was, and then everything spiralled, and I was a coward. You told me you’d retire, to be with me, and– we’ve only ever raced. All our lives. I couldn’t do it.” 

“Now I am retiring to be with you.” 

“After six championships. At the time, you had two. I didn’t want you to retire because you pitied me,” 

“I’ve never pitied you.” 

“I know. It’s why I love you so much.” 

Satoru almost does a double take. “Say it again.” 

“I love you.” Suguru smiles, lazy, “Satoru, I’ve-” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence, because Satoru pushes him down on the bed, both hands locked on his shoulders, holding him there, and kisses him, hard. 

 

—

 

He sleeps the best he has in years. 

 

—

 

2022 MEXICO CITY GP: ITADORI ON POLE, GOJO IN THIRD / G1 NEWS

 

—

 

November 2014, Abu Dhabi

 

The engine roars beneath him. This is it: the final corner, the last push. He hasn’t won: he hasn’t needed to. 

The fireworks rise from both sides of the track, flashing alongside his car. Alongside Gojo’s, too, in front of him. Getou can barely see them, from his place strapped in the car, through his tears. Over the radio, Shoko is shouting, elated, like nothing’s wrong. Like they won together. 

Getou doesn’t know what his response is. He barely knows what he says, too overcome with it all. What he’s done. He’s done it. 

He is a world champion.

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - ABU DHABI GP 2014 

 

ATSUYA KUSAKABE: Gojo will reach the chequered flag first, but Getou is right behind him, right behind his teammate, and he’s done all he needed to do– Gojo wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, his teammate finds the chequered flag behind him as a world champion! Suguru Getou is champion of the world, and what a comeback, what an underdog triumph, and surely this means so much to the man that has given everything to get on this world stage-

 

SUGURU GETOU [RADIO]: Oh my god. 

SHOKO IERI [RADIO]: Suguru! WE DID IT! SUGURU YOU’RE A WORLD CHAMPION! 

SG [RADIO]: Oh my god, Shoko, I’m so sorry! Shoko, we did it. 

SI [RADIO]: I’m so proud of you.

SG [RADIO]: I love you, Shoko. Oh my god. It’s done. It’s over. I can’t– this is it. 

 

SATORU GOJO [RADIO]: Did he do it? Yaga, did he do it? 

MASAMICHI YAGA [RADIO]: Yeah, you are P1, Getou P2-

SG [RADIO]: We’re world champions. Oh my god. 

MY [RADIO]: You fought ‘til the end. 

SG [RADIO]: We both did. 

 

—

 

He’s crying. He’s crying. He pulls himself out of the car, steps to the tarmac. Already, Gojo is out of the car, ahead of him. He thinks, distantly, that this is it, their roles reversed, the first time. Two years ago. It feels like decades, now. 

Gojo lifts his own visor up, staring at him, holding him tight by the arms, holding him straight. “You did it. You did it, Suguru, we’re world champions.” 

Satoru’s crying. He’s crying. There’s photographers everywhere. Suguru lifts his own visor. “I love you,” 

“I love you too. We’re both– this is good. Oh my god, you’re incredible, we– this is us, now. We’re okay.” 

Suguru nods, but there’s someone trying to push through the photographers, and he turns– 

Yuki is on him, wrapping him up in her arms, screaming. “You did it, I fucking told you you could do it, oh my God, Suguru. You’re a world champion,” 

He grabs at her back, using her to support himself. She keeps talking, and he can’t hear any of it over the roars of the crowd, over the photographers shouting, over anything. She hands him the Japanese flag, wraps it around him like a safety blanket. “Here.” 

 

—

 

October 2022, Mexico

 

“Okay, last car pulling up to the grid, now.” Shoko says in his ears, “concentrate. Start is critical.” 

It’s not hard to overtake in Mexico City, not like it is at Monaco, or maybe Barcelona. Still, the clean air is important, and Satoru doesn’t feel like managing his tyres in dirty air. 

The five lights begin to blink on, and Satoru breathes. In, out. 

He gets a good start. A much better one than Yuuji, because they’re wheel to wheel at the apex, Gojo on the outside, but he knows how to do this. Old school. 

The crowd roars as he passes Yuuji into turn one. 

And once he’s in clean air, it’s easy, isn’t it? 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - MEXICO CITY GP 2022

 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Gojo finds the chequered flag first, coming home to score those valuable points in the championship standings. Itadori comes home behind him, Gojo from Itadori, from Okkotsu, then Fushiguro finds the chequered flag in fourth, a great recovery drive from him after that contact in the second stint with Zenin and Inumaki. 

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY-ONE - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	369
2	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	344
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	294
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	286
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	235
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	172
7	Mai ZENIN (=)	Meiji	108
8	Nobara KUGISAKI (=)	Meiji	108
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	79
10	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	77

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY-ONE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	655
2	Scuderia Keicho (=)	638
3	Sengoku (=)	407
4	Meiji (=)	216
5	Haein (=)	88
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	76

 

—

 

November 2014, Abu Dhabi

 

It goes like this. The podium: vibrating out of his skin, flag wrapped around his shoulders, looking up at Gojo, wiping sweat and tears and probably blood from his face, listening to everyone screaming below him. 

His shuddering breaths as he steps onto the top step with Gojo, as he smiles with all his teeth, feeling his canines catch on his lip, bitten, where he’s drawn blood from himself. As Gojo holds his trophy, he pushes his hair out of his face: it’s gotten long. It curls at the nape of his neck, sticks on his flushed cheeks. 

He goes down into the pitlane. The mechanics throw him up onto their shoulders and scream, and he screams with them, feet hanging by their ribs. 

It goes like this: everyone peels away, and Getou stands, holding his second place trophy, sticky with champagne and sweat and trembling with adrenaline. Yuki smiles at him, her face split wide open with relief. “How are you feeling?” 

Getou doesn’t know. 

He doesn’t feel anything. 

It goes like this: his hands shake on the trophy. In Italian, he speaks. Forces the words out, really. Someone here will understand him. Someone here will publish a tell all, maybe in two weeks, maybe in ten years. I knew how he really felt that day. 

Suguru can’t wait for it. Maybe then he’ll know what he feels, now. He’s supposed to be the happiest man on earth. His two best friends have gone. He doesn’t know where. He doesn’t know how to find them again. He doesn’t know how to find himself, amongst everything. 

“When did you decide to retire?” 

 

—

 

Yuki ICE: I meant what I said suguru

Yuki ICE: don’t do anything rash

Yuki ICE: go home, if you need to. Get your head on str8

Yuki ICE: and if you need, I’ll bail you out. I’m on your side

Yuki ICE: nobody can take this from u

 

Me: the flights are booked. 

Me: Thanks Yuki

 

Yuki ICE: you know i love you

Yuki ICE: fav teammate. Just don’t tell choso xoxo

 

Me: I won’t

Me: thank you

Me: I love you too

 

— 

 

October 2022, Mexico 

 

At the end of the day, Satoru is just a man. A very weak man, who can’t resist the temptations of theatrics. He won, after all. 

He raises his arms, bending down, standing atop the car, snapping up into a jump, pumping his arms as he jumps from the car. There’s no parc ferme in Mexico City, no mechanics to meet him, but he embraces Yuuji as he gets out the car, shaking his head. 

“Don’t even, dude, I’m back to being over twenty points behind!” He shouts through his helmet, and Satoru laughs, pulling off his helmet, letting it sit on top of his head: he still has to get weighed. 

“Sorry, kid.” 

“Nah, you outraced me, I had a shit start,” Yuuji says, helmet in his hands, now. “God, did you see that contact on the screens? It was insane.” 

“Nah, I was concentrating,” Satoru says, just to wind him up, and Yuuji punches him lightly in the shoulder. 

“I’ll get you in Brazil,” Yuuji says, “I’m excited, I love that track,” 

Satoru grins. “Yeah, I do too.” 

 

—

 

It’s a long time before they finish up: the sun is setting in the sky when Gojo finally gets out and into a car, phone pinging in his hand. 

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Let Yuuji win in Brazil. I’ll come up on the podium with him. 

 

Me: ur insane

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: You looked good, Satoru

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Are you flying tonight? 

 

Me: nah priv jet in the morning

Me: why? u broke? Wanna lift? 

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: [Link]

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: Team is out here tonight. Just in case we bump into each other

 

Me: ur evil

 

Suguru ICE <3<3<3: You know where my room is, anyway

 

Satoru laughs out loud into the empty air in front of him. He can’t believe this is it. This is his life. A championship on the horizon and the love of his life in the palm of his hand. 

What’s the catch? 

 

—

 

TOUCHING DISTANCE: Here’s how Itadori could still clinch the title, with two races left

 

—

Notes:

... dont shoot pls

thoughts. please. track in this chapter is the Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez, home of the mexico city gp.

on another note: for the last couple of chapters i havent been able to reply to comments. last chapter alone has i think ovr 50 comments at this point, and im in my final year of uni and i simply dont have time to respond:( i love you all so much and i am seeing and appreciating comments, but replying to them is hard right now. if you want a response, pop an ask in my tumblr, i am still replying to most things there, and u can do it on anon, too!!! ok now im dipping til june, manifest good vibes for ferrari upgrades pls!!

<3

Chapter 22: xxii - HALO

Summary:

A safety device bought in from the 2018 season onwards with the sole purpose of protecting the driver. Initially controversial but now welcomed, following a number of accidents where it has saved lives.

Notes:

omg hey
so it turns out the anticipation of imola upgrades and jjk leaks made me a little more insane than i thought and heres another 10k
tw for some implications of passive suicidal ideation
thank u to glo and glo squared for beta'ing this chapter. i love you guys!!

November 2014, Monaco 

 

They fly private back to Monaco, in the end. It was always going to be one of them winning the championship, so Gankuganji said it would be a treat, one more part of the luxury that came with being a world champion, newly minted. 

When they get on, Gojo is still hungover, whining about his head hurting from the night before, and Shoko shoves him, sending him stumbling up the stairs. Behind them, Getou watches on as they giggle, trading half-hearted insults back and forth in Japanese. 

He sits a few rows back from them, scrolling through his phone and then eventually just leaning back and looking out the window at the clouds below them. 

Gojo comes to him wordlessly after a few hours, clutching a pillow to his chest, jaw set like he’s going to war, not on a private jet halfway back to Europe. 

Getou looks up at him. “Are you okay?” 

Gojo takes a deep breath, raising his gaze to the ceiling momentarily. “I can’t sleep, and I feel sick.” 

Getou frowns. Gojo’s never had any issues sleeping on a plane before. Half the time they’re sat next to each other, he’s passed out on Getou’s shoulder or in his lap before the flight even leaves the ground. “Really? You usually pass out immediately.” 

“I dunno. Can I– can I sit with you?” 

It’s a surprise. Getou had been expecting him to sit with Shoko the entire time. “Yeah, you can,” 

Gojo flops himself down into the seat next to him. He presses his cheek to the pillow and pulls his knees up to his chest, looking at Getou through his fringe. “Are we okay now?”

It’s said small, barely audible over the sound of the plane. Getou almost doesn’t catch it. 

“Yeah, we’re okay,” he says, to make himself believe it. Gojo smiles, a fragile, tired thing that makes Getou’s heart ache. 

“Okay,” he murmurs, and closes his eyes. 

Within ten minutes, he’s asleep. Within twenty, Getou has adjusted him so he’s actually lying down, cheek and pillow squished into the side of his thigh. 

 

—

 

Me: I think you were right

Me: I’m going to see how the first few races in 2015 go, and then make a decision in time for summer

 

Yuki ICE: good

Yuki ICE: y’know that if racing alongside gojo is what is causing this, keicho would legitimately murder someone to have you back

Yuki ICE: both drivers are up for renewal next year anyway

 

Me: That would break his heart

 

Yuki ICE: I don’t think it would as long as he still got to race u

 

Me: still. 

 

Yuki ICE: does he know about any of this? 

 

—

 

November 2022, Monaco

 

Utahime would hate him, but Satoru does end up going home for a few days in the break between Mexico and Brazil. Most of the drivers don’t: there’s plenty of marketing to be done out there, and the jet lag going from Mexico to Monaco and then back to Brazil isn’t necessarily worth it. 

Yuuji goes straight to Rio, and if his constant texts and supply of photos is anything to go by, he’s having a great time doing all of the tourist stuff with Shoko. He’s dyed his hair again, a mix of blue and yellow and green, and everyone is going crazy about it. 

He opens the newest message from Yuuji, a snap of some ice cream that they found in a stall somewhere, with Nobara in the back doing peace signs and grinning. It’s nice to see him with proper friends on the grid: last year, he was a little lonely, the youngest by a couple years. He was close to Inumaki, as all teammates are, but Satoru could never tell if it was part of the PR machine, or an obligation. 

Satoru had been sure to try and take Yuuji under his wing, anyhow. Make sure he didn’t feel left out in drivers’ parades or in drivers’ briefings. But regardless, he’s been smiling wider this year. 

Megumi looks over his shoulder at the texts and frowns. “He’s been texting you more than he texts me,” 

Satoru laughs, pocketing his phone. “I must be the favourite, then.” 

Megumi wrinkles his nose up, and scoffs. “As if,”

“Come on, I’m your favourite, right? For doing this for you?” 

Megumi shrugs him off as Satoru drapes himself over his shoulders. “Maybe.” 

“Maybe? Maybe? Megs, I’m wounded-” 

They both turn to a cough from behind them. The real estate guy. “Ah, hello.” 

The apartment isn’t the same as Satoru remembers it being. He’s fairly sure the kitchen wasn’t open plan before and the guy’s had a wall knocked down, and the winter means that the view into the sea isn’t as blinding as it was for those few months of summer that Riko existed here. 

But it’s still the same. He wanders the living room, thinking about it, tuning out Megumi’s very serious conversation with the real estate agent. 

It’s been a decade now. 

“Gojo? Gojo.” Megumi bumps shoulders with him, and Satoru finally turns, short of breath. Megumi’s eyes immediately go wide. “Oh, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“You’re crying.” 

Satoru wipes at his cheeks. He hadn’t even really realised. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s–” Megumi frowns, eyes flicking out to the view of the water, then back to Satoru again. “I don’t have to live here. I don’t want you to cry everytime you come to my apartment.” 

Satoru laughs, and Megumi bristles like a hedgehog being picked up. “No, Megs, I– it’s fine. I just haven’t seen it in a while, you know?” 

Megumi hums, unconvinced. 

“Y’know, she would have loved you.” 

Megumi sighs, pressing his lips together. “You’re not lying about this to make me feel better, right?” 

“No.” Satoru says, without even having to think about it. “No, of course not. If she– she’d love you. She’s so similar to Yuuji, and to Nobara, too, in some ways, I- I dunno. I don’t talk much about her. She was– we got on really well, all the way from her being in grade euro,” 

“You can tell me about her,” Megumi says, then, quiet. “I wanna know, I think, what she was like. Seems fair if I’m going to be living here.” 

“You like it?” 

Megumi glances nervously at him, then the room. “Yeah. I really do. And I thought I’d hate it, but it’s– yeah. I wanna buy it.” 

“On one condition,” Satoru grins. 

“What?” 

“When you move in together, Yuuji has to move here. I’m sick of him living on the other side of Monaco.” 

Megumi shoves him. Satoru can’t bring himself to mind. 

 

—

 

He bumps into Utahime just before he’s scheduled to leave for Brazil. He raises his eyebrows at her, and she sighs, “so are you going to call me a hypocrite or are you going to sit down?”

She’s wearing a sundress, her hair in bunches. It’s a nice coffee shop, out of the way of the tourist areas, so that they don’t get accosted too often. 

“What’re you doing here?” Satoru finds himself saying, leaving the chiding on being eco-friendly to the side for now. “Did you move to Monaco? I thought you were living in France.”

“I am,” Utahime says, “but I just took the trip in. I’m meeting some sponsors later, in Monte-Carlo.” 

“Ah. How is the team, by the way? You seem to be carrying it quite heavily.” 

Utahime sighs, “honestly, it’s a miracle I’ve got any points on the board. That car is–” she mimes an aeroplane crashing. “At least I won’t have to do it much longer,” 

“Oh, is the car next year better?” 

Utahime’s face does something weird in response. A frown: confusion. “I mean– yes. But everyone’s will be. But my contract’s only ‘til the end of twenty-three.” 

Satoru blinks. “You’re not– you’re not renewing?”

Utahime laughs, “Gojo, I’m older than you,” 

“Mei’s still driving,” 

“Mei’s an idiot,” Utahime says, rolling her eyes. “Keicho and JTR will be top dogs ‘til the new regulations, and even then, it’s still the ground effect cars. My back is ruined from one year of this, with all the bottoming and the porpoising, honestly. I’m not interested.” 

“Ah.” Satoru says. It’s not like he hasn’t noticed it, the dissatisfaction with the regulations, but-

“I’m not young anymore,” Utahime says, “I’ve won a world championship, I’ve driven for Keicho, I’ve done everything. There’s– there’s a point where you have to walk away, isn’t there?” 

Satoru licks his lips, “I guess,” then he breathes out, “yeah, I guess there is.” 

“Ha. You wouldn’t know, would you, Mr. I’m taking a sabbatical ,” 

“Hey-” 

“Honestly, Gojo. But I’m happy for you.” 

It seems genuine. Despite not being close, he and Utahime have known each other a long time. They’re both drivers, they’re both world champions, who’ve had the joint privilege and burden of having long careers with top teams. “Thanks.” 

“I was going to retire after last year,” Utahime says, soft, “but then they gave me the offer, and– I don’t know. I wanted to help build something. Like you have, with Jujutsu Tech.” 

“You drove for Keicho,” Satoru scoffs, on impulse, “that’s– they’ve got the biggest legacy in the history of the sport,” 

“And your legacy, alone, rivals theirs.” Utahime bites back, “some of us want something for when we leave, you know. With Keicho, you’re only ever a part of something bigger than you, and I thought– even if it’s not noticed, if I’m the one that got them their first bit of prize money, that feels like something, at least,” 

Satoru leans back. “Damn,” 

“Sorry.” Utahime says, flushing slightly, despite herself, “it’s– you’re lucky, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Satoru says, “I’ll make sure to get a talented rookie in your seat,” 

“God, I’d be honoured to be replaced by one of your picks.” Utahime laughs, “Megumi was a complete shot in the dark and he’s been brilliant.” 

“Don’t forget Yuuji,” Satoru says, just to rub it in, “he’s doing pretty well,” 

“Bet you regret that now,” Utahime replies, teasing, and Satoru feels something twist in him. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Someone was always gonna challenge me. I’m glad it’s him.” 

“Getou did.” 

“Getou didn’t get a fair shot, in the end,” 

“True. He was– he was completely off his game, after Riko. I remember watching him in 2014 thinking he was going to end up killing himself, too, in that car,” 

“I feel like I’m the only one that didn’t notice it,” 

“Ah, well. You were just as bad. You’ve never tried to preserve your life, particularly,” 

Satoru feels himself laugh, “I’m trying to now,” 

Utahime smiles. “Thought I’d never see the day,” 

 

—

 

November 2014, Monaco

 

Everything is normal. 

Well. 

Suguru spends twenty-four blissful hours straight sleeping. 

And then the celebrations begin. 

It’s been like this for the last two years, is the thing. For a moment, they’re allowed to relax, break loose, and they’ve won the constructors’ every year since Getou joined. But at the end of the day, the parties are for the world champion driver, the man at the centre of it all. 

And this year, it’s his. He’s trying to convince himself that it’s good, like this, being recognised for everything he’s put in, being able to let loose, finally. 

They go out in Monaco. The celebrations in Abu Dhabi were insane, sure, and like most of them, Getou can’t remember much, but the weird legality of alcohol had stopped them going truly off the rails. 

There’s no such issues in Monaco. 

There’s also half the amount of people, to be fair. The drivers are all out, the ones they’re friends with, anyway, but all the mechanics have gone home, and most of them don’t live in Monaco. 

Yaga’s here, though, and he’s in a shot competition with Gojo at the bar, cheers rising up every few moments as they down another one. Getou’s happy to sit back a bit. 

“Guess who!” A pair of hands come down to cover his eyes, gentle as anything. Getou recognises the voice, even over the boom of the club. 

He peels one hand away from his eyes, looking up to see Haibara beaming down on him. He’s not sure who moves first, but they’re hugging, with Haibara giggling into his shoulder. When he lets go, he sees Nanami, too, holding their drinks. He looks strangely relaxed, a small smile on his face.  

Haibara doesn’t let him contemplate for long, though. “Oh my god, you’re a world champion! Getou!” 

Getou finds himself grinning, despite it all. “Yeah. I am,” 

“Congratulations,” Nanami says, even though he’s already said it at the track. Getou nods out a thanks, whilst Haibara babbles on, clearly a little tipsy already. Even though it’s early. 

“I really thought you’d do it, y’know? And like, obviously it’s between you and Gojo, I’m not an idiot, but– everyone lost faith over summer and I was like– no! It’s still gonna be him, I promise, and- look at you now!” 

Getou smiles, heart hammering in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s from the vibrations in the club or the acknowledgement of it all. “Thanks,” 

“I’m gonna have to steal paddock passes off you, you know? So I can come watch. Nanami can’t get them for me all the time or else people will ask questions,” 

Nanami grimaces a little. Getou knows the feeling. “Sure. Our garage will actually be winning, too, so there’s a bonus,” 

Haibara giggles and Nanami rolls his eyes. 

“Who’s winning?” Gojo drapes himself over Getou’s shoulders, inserting himself right into the conversation. 

“You!” Haibara says, “well, one of you. Probably Getou if he keeps beating you like he did at the end of this season!” 

“Ha!” Gojo laughs, squeezing at Getou’s shoulders. It’s meant to be friendly, Getou can tell. A tease. It makes it worse. “Nah, I’m gonna win. We’re taking turns, y’see.”

“Oh yeah,” Nanami drawls sarcastically, finally managing to hand Haibara his drink. 

“You should have a top drive in sixteen, anyway,” Gojo hums, and it takes a moment for him to realise that he’s talking to Nanami, “you were working miracles in that car,” 

“I’m off the clock,” Nanami groans, “let’s not talk about racing,” 

For once, that’s something that Getou can get behind. “Yeah, let’s leave racing at the door.” He turns, facing Gojo, unwrapping his arms from him. “Come on, I believe you owe me.” 

Gojo’s face goes soft and open, split wide into a grin. “Yeah, okay,” 

 

—

 

It’s four in the morning. Maybe five. Getou isn’t entirely sure. 

He knows Shoko and Yaga were with them at some point. In a random sequence of events, they saw Choso, who was definitively not a part of any celebration but was still out. It had been funny to watch Gojo glare at him. 

Things feel easy when his body feels like this. Loose, relaxed, hazy. It’s like he’s looking in from the outside, feeling the sun on his neck in the middle of the night. 

“Oh, shit,” Gojo says, clambering into the taxi behind him, “I don’t have any cash. Do you have cash?” 

The driver side-eyes them through the rearview mirror and Getou tries to look as apologetic as possible about it. “No,” 

Gojo gasps, overdramatic, and tries to get straight back out the taxi, “I need to get cash,”

Getou grabs his wrist and pulls him back into the car, smiling at the driver in what he hopes is a friendly enough manner to make up for Gojo’s idiocy. “You take card?” 

The driver nods. Being Grade One drivers is usually enough to absolve them of any real consequences for their actions. The car pulls away and Gojo sighs, leaning across onto Getou’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and Getou can’t really think what for. 

Over the course of their fifteen-minute journey back to their apartments, Gojo manages to slip down enough to rest his cheek on Getou’s thigh. He watches his eyelashes flutter and allows himself this: his fingers in his hair, the feeling of his breaths on his skin. 

The driver pulls up, and Getou pays, and wrestles Gojo out of the car, who has now decided everything is very funny again, moving like a string bean, flopping all over the place. 

There’s a lift up to their floor, thank God, because Gojo is not going easily, pushing his full weight into Getou’s arms. Maybe there was a point in time where he could carry him, but not anymore. 

“Where are your keys,” Getou mumbles, mostly to himself, as he pats down Gojo, trying to find them in his pockets. “God-” 

Gojo laughs, “I dunno, stop feeling me up,” 

Getou rolls his eyes, lets himself lean into it for once. It’s not like either of them will remember this with clarity in the morning: it will be a perfect haze, something soft and warm and golden. “Come on, Satoru, you need to go to bed,” 

“I can just– can I just sleep at yours?” Gojo says, slurring, “I’ll find them in the morning.” 

Getou gives into defeat. “Alright, come on.” 

Their apartments are practically next to each other: a walk down the corridor and they’re there, in Getou’s flat. Gojo stumbles forward, laughing as he lies on the couch. Getou goes with him, watching the way his face scrunches, the way his dimples pop out. 

“You’re staring,” Gojo says. He never notices these things. Getou laughs. 

“Sure. If you want me to be staring.” 

Gojo sits up, a little wobbly, but still grinning. They’re close on the couch, now, shoulder to shoulder in the faded light. Getou feels as if he should reach across, turn a lamp on, but he doesn’t want to break the moment. This moment: whatever it is. 

Gojo’s face goes slack. It’s uncharacteristically serious, the way he’s looking at him. He drops his face to the side, watching Getou. 

“What’s going on in there?” Getou whispers. It seems to fit this moment, whispering. He presses the pad of his thumb to Gojo’s forehead, soft. Gojo sniffles. 

“Are we– are we gonna be okay?” 

“Yeah, of course we are,” Getou responds on auto-pilot. Why would they not be?

“If I win again, will you hate me?” Gojo whispers. “I– this season was horrible. Haibara’s not even coming back, and I dunno– I’ll be fine if you win, you know.” 

“Gojo.” 

Gojo frowns, “you never call me that.” 

“Sorry. Force of habit, the commentators and the journalists,” Getou smiles, pressing his cheek against the same cushions. Something about being on even footing. “I’ll be okay if you win,” 

It’s true, he knows it to be so. He’s a world champion now, and it’s a title that works in all tenses. If Gojo wins the next, or if he does, they’re equal, now. Maybe he’ll go back to Keicho in 2016, but if he does, he knows he’s as good as his friend, for all the work he put in and for all he achieved. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Okay.” Gojo shuts his eyes. “‘Cause I love you, you know. I’m not gonna lose you over some stupid race. I’d rather retire, than ever do that again,” 

It makes something ugly churn in Getou’s stomach, the talk of retiring. “Don’t retire, you idiot. You’re the best on the grid right now by miles.” 

“I could be your WAG,” Gojo grins, dopey. “It’d be cute, me in the garage,” 

“You could break records, though,” Getou finds himself saying. “You could beat Sukuna.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Gojo frowns, eyes squeezed shut, “I like racing, I love it, but it’s not worth losing you.” 

Getou laughs, to try and break the silence. The feeling. The rabbiting in his chest. 

“I mean it.” Gojo’s eyes are open now, unblinking in the dark. He swallows. Getou could hear a pin drop. He definitely hears his own breaths, harsh from his throat. 

Gojo’s gaze drops. 

Getou’s heart goes with it. 

The moment Satoru kisses him, he knows he’s fucked. Completely and utterly, for anyone else. He’s been holding himself back from this for so long it’s become natural, and he didn’t realise how badly he’d wanted it until this moment.

He can’t have this. They’re both drunk. Satoru doesn’t know what he’s doing. Suguru cycles through all the reasons in his head, rapid fire, but none of them stick. None of them overpower the curling desire in the bottom of his stomach, twisting and hot. 

Satoru leans into it, and now their chests are pressed together. He’s pinning Suguru back against the couch, leaning into it, like he really wants it, like he knows what he’s doing. His hand slips under his shirt, on his hipbone, and Suguru holds back a sigh, belly-deep and instinctual. 

He can’t have this. His hand goes to Satoru’s hair, tugging, just gently at the longer strands that he still hasn’t cut. He nips at Satoru’s bottom lip. 

He can let himself have this, just for a moment. Shared breaths and spit and skin on skin. 

One. 

Satoru whines under his touch, almost straddling him now. His thighs are warm, his hands are cold. 

Two. 

Suguru lets his hand fall to the base of Satoru’s neck, pulling him closer, just a bit. Satoru responds in turn, his fingers tracing Suguru’s spine. 

Three. 

Suguru kisses him again, leaning forward, making up for lost time and the time they will lose. 

Four. 

Satoru’s stomach clenches, and he rolls his hips down, like he can’t help it. He laughs into Suguru’s mouth, chasing him down for another kiss. This time, Suguru can taste salt. 

Five. 

Suguru places his palms on Satoru’s shoulders, breath jumping. He can’t have this. He really can’t. “Satoru,” 

“What,” he tries to lean down again, but Suguru’s had his moment. He’s allowed himself to have just a small taste, the rest would be indulgent. It would be destructive. 

“We can’t. What have you even had tonight?” 

“Jus’ coke,” Gojo mumbles, his gaze still fixed on Getou’s mouth. “Only a few lines, not that many-” 

And however much you’ve had to drink, Getou thinks. “This would ruin us,” he breathes. “We– it would have to be a secret, forever.” 

“You’d be my secret, though,” Gojo says, clumsy, “I meant what I said. I’d rather have you– than… than everything else.” 

“You’d give up.” 

Gojo nods, dopey, “I love you.” 

He says it like it’s simple, and maybe it is, for him, being able to leave that career behind, shunned from the only place he can call home. But it isn’t for Getou. There’s nothing left for him if he stops racing. His mom barely talks to him. Japan isn’t home anymore. His family is here, the team, Shoko–

This is it. 

Getou pushes him off him. “You’re fucked,” he says, standing. Gojo sprawls out on the couch, blue eyes wide and watery. 

“I’m– I mean it. We can– I need you as a friend, please,” 

“It’s not that.” Getou rushes out, all at once. It feels indulgent to let this happen, to talk about it, to promise. “We– we can talk in the morning. When you’re sober. When I’m sober,” 

Getou feels perfectly sober, now, to be honest. The kiss has knocked all of the alcohol right out of him. 

Gojo blinks. “Okay.” 

Running a hand through his hair, Getou sighs. He leans down, turns the lamp on. Light fills the room and Gojo squints. 

“D’you wanna sleep here?” 

Gojo nods. 

When he comes back ten minutes later with a blanket, he’s already asleep. 

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

Interlagos is a fan favourite. Gojo knows this because he gets a million fans telling him every year: I wish that it was on the calendar ten times, instead of all those new street circuits! He honestly has to agree: it’s one of the best tracks for overtaking, and the action is brilliant, year after year after year. 

Gojo loves racing here. So does Yuuji. They’re somewhat on an equal playing field. Gojo knows the bookies have them on equal odds - anything could happen going into this weekend, including both of them spinning out in dramatic fashion, so he gets it. 

One of the social media girls corners him in hospitality on the first day they’re there, and slaps a phone down in front of him. Gojo squints at it, reads a couple of tweets speculating about him moving to Keicho. “Uh- what?”

“Well, given that you’re not renewing with us for next season,” she chides, “could you at least not talk to Keicho senior figures in public? People have phone cameras, you know.” 

“Who would I even replace?” 

She shrugs, picking the phone back up. “Yuuta, or Yuuji, since you’re categorically better than both and bring more from a marketing perspective. Just don’t be stupid about it,” 

“Aye aye,” Satoru hums, watching as she sighs and gets pulled aside by another staff member, leaving him to his own devices. 

A contract with Keicho? Now that’s laughable. 

Megumi sits down next to him, eyebrows knotted together as he looks away to where the staff have wandered off to. “Was she okay? She looked annoyed at you,” 

“Oh, apparently I’m fuelling the latest round of paddock rumours,” Satoru hums. “Pre-contract with Keicho and all,” 

“You– actually?” Megumi says, looking a bit shocked and a little puzzled, like he actually believes it. “I saw some rumours, but-” 

“No, Megs, I haven’t. It’s just because someone photographed me and Getou in the paddock in Mexico.” 

“Oh.” Megumi frowns, “would you sign for Keicho, if he asked?” 

“No.” Satoru scoffs, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he thinks about it properly, “I don’t want to drive for Keicho,” 

Megumi frowns, “I didn’t say you did. But any team principal would bend over backwards to have you, you know that, right?” 

“Right,” Megumi drawls, looking away from Satoru and biting down on a mouthful of salmon. Satoru squints at him. 

“Out with it,” 

“I think Getou would sign you,” slowly, Megumi spears another piece of his lunch. “He’d be incredibly stupid not to.” 

“Working together would be a nightmare,” Satoru hums, “I mean, look at what happened last time,” 

“It’d be worth it for him, though.” Megumi hums. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, for the marketing value,” 

Satoru smacks him around the head. 

 

—

 

Keicho and Jujutsu Tech share a fanzone on Thursday, which Satoru knew about because it was organised sort-of last minute when the higher-ups realised that Keicho hadn’t been subjected to the obligation to do one in a few races, but had no space in the schedule left. Hence– this. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Suguru’s voice is smooth, and he taps Satoru’s lower back just slightly, waiting to go up the stairs. From where he’s standing in front of them, Megumi turns to look over his shoulder, stood next to Yaga. Then he looks away again. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“So, you know, some of us have these things called jobs-” 

Satoru elbows him in his side and he laughs, as Yuuji and Yuuta wander up behind them. Yuuji has picked up a Brazilian flag from God knows where, and has it draped over his shoulders. Megumi has turned from his low conversation with Yaga, and focuses fully on Yuuji. “Since when were you Brazillian?” 

“I dunno,” Yuuji beams. “I said, like, hola to someone and they gave me this.” 

Megumi narrows his eyes at him slightly, saying something to the tune of, “that’s not even the right language,” and Yuuji seems to take it as an invitation, sidling up to him and knocking him sideways. He says something quietly enough that Satoru can’t hear it over the swell of the crowd outside, and he watches their fingers link for a moment before Megumi pushes him off and Yuuji grins. 

He looks away. It’s a lot, sometimes, watching them. 

He turns instead to Yuuta, who breathes in and out slowly, adjusting his cap on his head. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, just preparing to not get a single question,” Yuuta smiles, eyes twinkling, and Satoru has to laugh at that. 

 

—

“Yeah, what’s your question?” 

The Q&A is the last part of the fanzone, only a small section, really. Still- 

There’s shuffling and the microphone gets handed to a little kid. He can’t be more than ten, Satoru thinks. He clears his throat.

“Um. My question is for Gojo,” he says, all squeaky and cute. Satoru has the urge to get down from the stage and squeeze his cheeks, “um, You and Getou used to be really good friends, and then you were enemies-” a ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, “-and now you seem to be friends with him again. Is that ‘cause you’re joining his team?” 

An ooh rises from the crowd, and Satoru licks his lips, pointedly not looking at where Suguru is stood across from him, microphone dangling from his hand and a smile on his lips. Staring. 

Then Satoru realises, rather abruptly, oh. This is a game, and I know how to play. He grins, licking the line of his upper teeth in the way that he knows Suguru likes, turning to him and grinning wide. “They always get the kids to ask the difficult questions, huh?” 

Suguru laughs, cheeks flushed, rolling the rings of his necklace between his fingers. Satoru’s eyes drop momentarily to the dip in his clavicle, subtlety be damned.

“I’m not joining his team,” he says, to the kid, “I am very old and very tired and I need a break. Me and Suguru didn’t talk for a while, I guess, and we both realised how stupid that was, when he came back to the paddock,” 

“It took a while, didn’t it?” Suguru says, into the mic, so that the crowd can hear him. “Of course, if he wanted to come back into the sport, I think most team principals would want to have him. But you’re expensive, right, Mr. Six Eyes?” 

“Six eyes, six world championships,” Satoru grins back. It’s fun, being tempting like this. 

 

—

 

November 2014, Monaco

 

Getou wakes up to a pounding in his head and the vibrating of his phone, beside him on the bedside table. One of the texts is from Shoko, asking if he got home okay, and another from Itadori, something about the motor in Yuuji’s kart. He immerses himself in that for a moment, delaying going out into the rest of his apartment and facing… whatever that was. The kiss. With his teammate. 

He lets his mind drift to fantasies he’s carefully carved and hidden away for himself over the years: time stolen in drivers’ rooms, arms tucked between each other on podiums, stolen kisses in their flats in Monaco. It seemed so far out of reach before. Now it’s within touching distance, a hair’s breadth away. 

He breathes out as his phone buzzes again. 

 

Love of my life ICE: jus got home, sorry 4 ditching

Love of my life ICE: turns out my keys were in th bathrm lol

Love of my life ICE: come ovr? 

 

Getou hums, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Well, here goes nothing. He ends up pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his still packed suitcase, and trudges down the hall. 

Gojo’s chewing toast when he enters. “Hey-” he says, with his mouth full, and then his phone buzzes in his hand and he turns away. 

“What’s up,” Getou strolls over, places a hand on his shoulder, casual. 

“Yaga’s saying I forgot about some karting event I’m supposed to show face at tomorrow,” Gojo frowns, tapping away furiously at the screen, “but I’m supposed to be at some sponsor dinner in– fucking–” he trails off, snorting. 

“Where?” 

“Monte-Carlo,” Gojo says, “fuck’s sake. And then he’s going on about organising all the suit fittings and stuff already and it’s like, lemme breathe, you know?” 

“Well, suit fittings aren’t for a couple months, yet, right?” Getou finds himself saying, and the words ring empty. He doesn’t care about this. 

“Ah, no, but the championship– it’s only, like ninety days or something til we’re back testing,” Gojo hums, “oh, d’you want breakfast?” 

Getou stands still as Gojo squirms out of his chair and rounds the kitchen island, presenting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, still warm. He grins. Getou chews the inside of his cheek, taking it. “Thanks,” 

How can I steer this conversation? “I– how did you get back to the bar?” 

“You were still sleeping,” Gojo says, “so I was looking for my keys, and then Shoko texted me saying she handed them in last night ‘cause she found them in the disabled toilets so. Yeah, just ran back. Think I’m still a bit drunk, to be honest,” 

Getou looks at Gojo’s flushed cheeks and realises two things at once. One: Gojo is still a little tipsy, with his flushed cheeks and shower-fresh hair. Two: he's still frazzled from it, still running a million miles an hour, still- he's running from it. He's being a coward, pretending to forget. 

His stomach curdles. 

 

—

 

Me: getting on the plane now

Me: no one saw me going through security i think

 

Yuki ICE: okay lmk when u land

 

Me: yeah 

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

When they get to the track in the afternoon for qualifying, the clouds are thick and grey. Satoru looks up at them, holding his hand out. Shoko slaps it down and rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t looked at the forecast,” 

Satoru shakes his head. He looked a week ago, but surely it’s changed, since then. Rain wasn’t on the agenda. 

“Well, it might rain in Q3,” Shoko says, as they wander towards the garage, “but hopefully it’ll roll over us.” 

“You’ve jinxed it now,” Kamo says, from somewhere behind them, and Satoru turns to see him shaking his head. Shoko shrugs. 

“There’s no such thing.” 

Satoru hums, looking up at the clouds again. They do look ominous. “Well, I wouldn’t mind rain. It would favour me over Yuuji,” 

Shoko laughs, “if that comes down, it’s gonna be red flag conditions,” she says, like it’s obvious. Maybe it is. 

Megumi says nothing, drinking through his straw, but he grimaces. 

 

—

 

It does rain, in Q3, in the end. Right as they’re preparing to go out on the first flying lap of the session. Everyone queues up, trying to get out first, and then the garage makes the call to send them both out last, to try and avoid the traffic. 

“How long til the rain hits, though, Shoko?” He says down the radio, desperate for her to understand what he’s getting at, but her response is dry. 

“In eight minutes, we’ll have time,” 

Satoru doesn’t disagree with her often, but he does this time, staring at Yuuji, right at the front of the queue, engine purring. There’s no way to override the call, now, sat tucked into the cockpit with the wheel covers still on, and he’s along for the ride. 

He’s out last, bar Megumi. When the rain starts falling and the track is damp, the team has nothing to blame but themselves for the shit call. 

Satoru qualifies P9, Megumi P10. It’s a mixed up qualifying that ends with, very randomly, Nobara in P2 and Nanami in P3, because they made the correct call and went out early. He steps out of the car, into the deluge, tips his head to the sky. There’s nothing he can say on the radio to express his frustration as he tips his head back down, walking along the pitlane. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR INTERVIEW - POST-QUALIFICATION SAO PAULO GP 2022 - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing) - G1TV

 

Q: Ah, Gojo. Hopes of pole today ruined by the rain, you start P9 tomorrow. How are you feeling? 

SATORU GOJO: [laughs] Hm. Yeah I’m not pleased, let’s say that. Brazil is one of the tracks where overtaking manoeuvres are a bit easier than say, Monaco, but to start P9 with your championship rival on pole is still not great, especially when my time in Q2 was enough for P3 overall, in the end. And that lap wasn’t perfect. 

Q: Do you think you can fight your way back to the podium tomorrow? 

SG: Yes. The car is out of place and the front runners are very, very mixed up right now because of the rain, so there’ll definitely be more opportunities to move up the order, but in a title fight that’s now looking like it’s going to be incredibly close, I shouldn’t have to. 

Q: Was the call to go out late what cost you pole today? 

SG: Unfair to say if it cost me pole, Yuuji was very fast, but– yeah. It’s cost me a front row start, that’s for sure. We’ll be talking about it in debrief. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR INTERVIEW - POST-QUALIFICATION SAO PAULO GP 2022 - Megumi FUSHIGURO (Jujutsu Technical Racing) - G1TV

 

  Q: Hey Megumi, P10 out there today. Do you think you could have done a better job out there without the rain? 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: Yes. I wouldn’t be P10 without the rain call, I was P5 going into Q3 with a lap that– it wasn’t perfect. I had a few tenths left there easily. 

Q: It was a very messy session, and your team made the call to go out a little later to avoid the traffic. Did that sabotage your runs? 

MF: I suppose– but. The weather data they had at the time placed the rain further back, so I think we thought we had more time. At the end of the day it’s racing, and these things happen, and we’ll pull back tomorrow. 

 

—

 

November 2014, Japan

 

Getou pulls the mask up his nose and looks around. Waiting for his luggage has him feeling dizzy, in a way he doesn’t really understand yet. 

He got on a plane the day after Gojo didn’t remember. He moved his flight up, went from Nice to Heathrow and then out of there to Japan, long-haul. The quickest flight, the soonest one. There had been a direct flight from France the day after, but he hadn’t really been willing to wait that long. Now he’s in Tokyo, waiting for the single suitcase he bought with him so he can catch a connection out back home. His phone sits heavy in his hands, useless without a Japanese SIM. He hasn’t even tried to call his mom yet. He doesn’t know what to say.

I am 24. I’m a world champion. I’m losing both of my best friends, and I think I’ve already lost you. 

He just needs some distance. He needs space to breathe and recycle and package that kiss in his mind, enough that he can continue to treat Gojo like a colleague and hope that he seems normal. He needs to do that, or find the courage to bring it up: why are you pretending it never happened? Why are you a coward?

It didn’t mean much to him, is the thing. He can’t repeat it sober. It has carved out a hollow inside him and he needs to plug it shut before he goes back: hence, Japan. 

Hence, home. 

Kind of. 

When he gets to his house, via a rental car and a dream, Getou sees it empty. The key is in the same place as it always was, and it has the same keyring: an old Keicho model, the car that Choso drove, back in the early, early two thousands. 

He lets himself in. 

His room is untouched. Dust is building on the books, on the shelves. Getou’s legs hang off the end of his bed. He stares at the cabinet, full of karting trophies and old merch, left with an empty spot where the cap Yaga gave him was, once upon a time. 

As long as Gojo likes you, I’m sure you’ll be fine. 

Getou thinks about his rage in Japan, the way he slammed down on the table and Gojo responded in kind, snarling and rounding on him, with startling clarity. He remembers Shoko’s hurt expression, and her curling in on herself. His phon buzzes a few times in his hands, waking up. Getou looks at it, sees its connected to wifi and messages from Shoko and Gojo filter through. 

 

Love of my life ICE: dude theres this kid

Love of my life ICE: at the karting stuff hes SO fast u hav to see him

Love of my life ICE : hes distantly related to choso or smth its insane

 

Shoko ⋆ ICE: where are u I was gonna come over but ur not home??

Shoko ⋆ ICE: u ok?

 

He looks at them, blinks, changes Shoko and Gojo’s contact names. He takes the ICE tag off both, squints, and then decides on changing Gojo’s back to just Satoru. It fits, really. 

His eyes feel heavy, too heavy to keep open, as he taps out a message to Yuki, half-baked, I don’t think I can do this anymore. 

Then to his mum, hey, I’m home, just sleeping. 

The exhaustion catches him before long. He sinks into it. Bliss. 

 

—

 

Yuki ICE: suguru i need you to respond oh my god. 

Yuki ICE: how the fuck do i call the police in japan

Yuki ICE: I don’t even know your address

 

[Missed call from Yuki ICE x3]

[Call connected]

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

The debrief is usually calm. Satoru, however, can feel himself vibrating out of his own skin as he puts his headphones on, sitting beside Megumi with his legs crossed, shoulders rolled back. 

He doesn’t get angry at the team often. Sometimes, stuff like this happens in qualifying, with a red flag or contact or a spin. Sometimes, the weather is bad. Sometimes, sessions get red-flagged. 

But this time, they didn’t get unlucky. They made a bad call. “P9 and P10 tomorrow,” Yaga sighs, down his microphone. Satoru hears it in his headphones, being recorded, sent to the guys back at the factory. “Not where we want to be,” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Satoru?” 

“That was a bad call today,” he says, when prompted. “I don’t know who made it, but even if we have eight minutes until the rain hits, which we didn’t end up having, we shouldn’t be waiting until minute six or seven to put in a lap. It’s too risky. It’s cost us a potential pole, or even a front-row lockout, if Yuuji and Yuuta made mistakes. But we weren’t in a place to capitalise, because we were sent out last.” He looks across the room, at Shoko, who nods, blinking slowly. Megumi squirms beside him.

“There was a mistake on the weather system,” she replies, “but Satoru’s right. We shouldn’t have made the call to make drivers wait in cooling conditions, where it’s much harder to activate the tyres, and this was preventable. Now we have a job on our hands tomorrow that we shouldn’t have, with Yuuji in pole, able to capitalise on the distance between him and his rivals,” 

“Even Yuuta’s only P5,” Satoru says, and Shoko hums in return. 

“Mhm. If he gets away cleanly, we’re going to have a steep job to get near him with the gap he builds in clean air.” 

Yaga rolls his shoulders back. “Right, Megumi, anything to add?” 

Megumi looks a little bit shellshocked that he’s even being asked, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. “Um. No,” 

He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, like he does when he’s nervous. Satoru frowns. “Is that what you want to say?” 

He looks caught out, when he looks back at Satoru, “uh. Well. The call was bad. We know that. And it cost us positions, in a race where we could have benefitted from pole for Satoru, and my own position to act as a buffer between him and Yuuji, to help drive the gap wider. And now we have the opposite, almost impossible job. So. It’s not a great feeling to be honest,” 

Satoru smiles, then, because Megumi is sat, eyes intense as he looks to Kamo and Yaga, breathing in and out. And he’s proud of him. 

 

—

 

POST-QUALIFYING G1TV COMMENTATORS’ TRANSCRIPT - SAO PAULO GP 2022 

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: Ah, wait, here he is, the man of the hour, Getou, you have time to talk? 

SUGURU GETOU [TP, Scuderia Keicho]: Ah, just for a bit, I suppose. How are you? 

YT: Good, as always. So, pole for Yuuji! You guys seemed to make the perfect strategy calls in qualifying today. 

SG: Well, to be fair, we were hoping to get two runs in, before the rain hit, so I think the hurry to get out was more defined by that, rather than the rain being forecasted as being imminent. I am aware different teams thought different times for the rain coming in, though. 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Well, regardless of the circumstances, pole for Yuuji with Gojo so far down the order blows the door wide open in terms of the championship standings. 

SG: Yes, but Gojo is out of place, as are the cars ahead of him. We really can’t count out Satoru for a charge for the win, and their car suits this track a bit better than ours. But we hope the cars behind hold him up. 

YT: Speaking of Gojo, I watched some very interesting videos from the fanzone on Thursday. 

SG: So what you’re about to ask me is about to be nothing to do with the race, I assume. [laughs]

YT: You said something along the lines of– wait– ‘any team principal would want Gojo’ if he came back after his sabbatical. I know there’s been plenty of rumours about Gojo’s contract and a potential look-in at Keicho, but if he wanted to make a return to racing, would you attempt to sign him? 

SG: I think my shareholders would be incredibly annoyed with me if I didn’t give signing him a go. [laughs] But in all seriousness, yes. I have a feeling that terms for him to come back to racing if he wins this title will be quite particular, and it would be a difficult deal to pin down. The probability of it happening would be quite low, really. 

MN: The dream team from JTR, back together at Keicho. Would it be a nice moment?

SG: Of course. I have a lot of respect for him, we’re friends. He is the single best driver of that generation, probably ever. I meant it when I said that any Team Principal with the budget would have a go. 

YT: I couldn’t picture Gojo in red. 

SG: He’s not the sentimental type, I’ll give you that. [laughs] But I could. 

 

—

 

December 2014, Japan

 

Getou blinks in and out of consciousness for what feels like a while. There’s beeping. An intrusion in his nose, down his throat. He’s too tired to fight much of it, stuck in a haze listening to people come and go. 

It’s like that for a while. 

He feels something tickling his arm, and he wakes slowly, to harsh lights above him and a body slumped by his side. 

He turns and squints, realising it’s Yuki. She’s sleeping, he thinks, soft breaths falling from her lips. Still wearing one of those stupid sleeveless turtlenecks. He tries to move his hand to grab at hers, but thinks better of it. When he tries to speak, his voice sticks around his own throat. It’s an alien feeling. 

She stirs first, in the end, opening her eyes and blinking at him, before realising he’s awake and shooting upwards. “Oh, Suguru, wait, let me-” she goes to stand to get someone, and Getou manages to grab at her wrist and pull her back down to sit again. 

With a sore throat and a slow push, he manages to speak. “What’re you doing here?”

“You texted me–” Yuki rambles, “and honestly, Suguru, I thought you’d fucking killed yourself. Never do that again. I– your mom-” 

“My mom’s here?” Suguru frowns. He remembers now. Remembers lying down and letting himself rest. Yuki shakes her head. 

“No. She’s gone home for a bit. She was beside herself when she found you, you know?” 

Suguru doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t know. 

“You know how much weight you’d lost? Christ, Suguru, I don’t know how the team didn’t– did they not notice?” 

Suguru shakes his head. It doesn’t feel true. He’s been hiding from them, really. Trying to not end up like this. “Do– how long-” 

“A week,” Yuki says. “People are asking questions, Suguru, you’re going to have to let them know you’re okay,” 

“Where’s my phone?” 

Yuki holds it out to him, screen black. “Your mom called me. But Gojo and Shoko are both asking where you are, so. You should probably tell them.” 

Getou realises, all at once, the gravity of it all. He’s in a hospital bed, in early December, in Japan. Pre-season starts in two months and his legs feel like jelly. 

Gojo kissed him. 

He’s unfit, and there’s a tube in his nose, and his hands don’t feel like his own as he looks down at his phone screen, at the messages from Yaga and Shoko and Gojo and–

Gojo kissed him. 

He has to go back, he has to do it again, at least once more, he has to defend his title and hear the taunts of every commentator that if he can’t do this, the championship he has sacrificed everything for is a fluke. 

Satoru kissed him.

“Yuki– I. The text. I meant the contract, I didn't actually mean-” he says, speaking it into fruition. “I can’t go back.” 

Yuki swallows. “Keicho would take you. They’d buy you out, in a heartbeat.” 

How different would it even be there? He’d still have to fight with his weight, fight to swallow it, fight to keep himself from spiralling out and just pressing his foot to the throttle and– 

“No. I don’t think I can drive anymore.” He says, looking at his own hands, looking at them shaking. “This is it.” 

Yuki takes a shuddery breath. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“I made you a promise. I’ll keep it.” 

 

—

 

His mom comes back later. 

“Suguru. This is– I can’t let you go back,” 

“I’m not going, mom,” his voice cracks no matter how hard he tries to steel it. “I can’t. Yuki’s gonna buy out the contract for me.” 

His mom looks at him with watery eyes, presses a palm to his cheek. “Okay. That’s good.” 

Suguru nods, without words. Her face crumples, and she closes her eyes. “I should have been there.” 

“Yeah,” Suguru whispers. “I’m sorry about dad.” 

“Oh, God. Suguru. That’s not your fault.” 

He didn’t realise how much he needed to hear that until he hears it, and then his whole body is melting forwards, trying to be one with his mom. He missed her. 

 

—

 

BREAKING NEWS: SUGURU GETOU TO NOT DRIVE FOR JTR IN 2015

Written by Alana Ford, December 24th 2014

 

In the last few hours, reliable sources close to the driver have confirmed that he intends to break contract with Jujutsu Technical Racing, to not drive for them in 2015. This comes following Getou’s successful championship campaign in 2014. No statement has ben released by either Getou’s representatives, or the representatives of JTR. 

 

VIEW COMMENTS: 

 

73getousuguru: there’s no way this is real, right?? Where would he even go instead?

> joshkitchen: there’s been a tonne of keicho move rumours? They could potentially buy out one of their own drivers’ contracts to welcome Getou home

 

Loisserra: what the hell, no way this is real, how would they get a replacement this late?

 

Racingfan37: if this is true he’s majorly fucked them over. Waiting until this late to announce it? 

> graderacingstan: maybe it’s been going on behind the scenes for a while??

 

—

 

Satoru: what the actual hell? 

Satoru: dude where are you. Come back im being serious

Satoru: are you going to keicho in 2015??? Is that what this is?? 

 

Satoru: idc if you go 2 keicho again but why didnt u tell me

Satoru: pls suguru im like super worried

 

Satoru: gankuganji says this is the first he’s heard of this??? where are u

Satoru: yuki wont tell me 

 

Satoru: idc if u dont wanna see me but like at least tell me yk

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

The sun is shining, the next day, again. After the downpour of rain the day before, God seems to be favouring Yuuji because the sun is golden and brilliant, and Yuuji’s smile matches. 

They stand somewhat close in the drivers’ parade, with Yuuji leaning over the barriers and waving whilst Gojo rests his elbows on them, leaning back and waving the opposite way. Momo’s floating around with a microphone, doing interviews for the broadcast, and when she sees them together, she makes a beeline for them, a massive grin on her face. 

“Ah, Gojo, Yuuji, the two championship rivals,” she beams, “how are you both,” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, letting his mouth curl into a lazy grin. “Well, I’ve got a challenge today, compared to you, haven’t I?” 

Yuuji beams, “starting on pole is its own challenge.” 

“Right, well. What about that points battle? Are you finally feeling the pressure, Gojo?” 

He laughs, adjusting his cap, watching the camera rolling out of the corner of his eye and Yuuji watching him. “Ah, after six championships, the pressure doesn’t get to you,” 

Yuuji laughs next to him, “I can’t wait?” 

“You think you’ll get six?”

“I know I will,” Yuuji says. He’s smiling but he’s got this scary steeliness in his eyes that only comes from someone who wants something badly enough to grapple at it with claws and teeth, drawing blood be damned. 

Satoru wonders if he ever looked like that. If he looked like that going into the championship fight with Yuki. With Getou. “Well, you heard it here, folks!” He grins, instead, looping an arm around Yuuji’s shoulders, “he’s gonna break my record,” 

Yuuji laughs, letting himself be wobbled around. Momo hums. 

“Any notes on strategy, either of you? Will both of you be on the two stop? Gojo, you have an extra set of new softs, will those be of any use to you?” 

Satoru smiles, “I don’t give away my secrets for free.” 

“Yuuji?” 

Yuuji mimes zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key, and Momo sighs, fondly, before she wanders off to harass Yuuta, who’s standing on the other side of the float. 

“You’re pissed,” Yuuji says, quietly, as he leans back on the barriers, eyes glinting. There’s no point hiding from him, really. 

“Yeah.” 

“P10 to a win won’t be too hard, right?” Yuuji says. He’s still looking smug, but his words are honest, “all you have to do is get a podium. Then you’re still, like, twenty points ahead of me going into Abu Dhabi and I just have to wait for a miracle.” 

Satoru snorts. It’s not untrue. He doesn’t really even have to win here, he just has to clear all the cars in front of him. P2 would be enough to make the gap still borderline unbridgeable in one race. 

“Why are you happy about that?” 

“Because you’re angry. And you drive best when you are, and– I like fighting with you, you know,” Yuuji says, “like, it’s good. It’s fun.” He pauses, and the smile on his lips jumps slightly, like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. 

“What else?” 

“And you’re angry because you know I’m good.” Yuuji turns to look at him. “Because you know I could close the gap here. And I’m gonna prove to you that I can.” 

 

—

OFFICIAL TEAM STATEMENT: DRIVER LINEUP 2015 

December 31st, 2014

 

Following the decision made by Suguru Getou to terminate his contract with Jujutsu Technical Racing early, he will no longer race for the team in 2015. This decision has been agreed on by both parties. Satoru Gojo will continue at the team as per his contract, which currently runs through to the end of the 2016 season. 

Starting in 2015, on a one-year contract, Nanami Kento will join JTR in replacement of Suguru Getou.

 

‘It was a very shocking decision for Getou to terminate early, but we wish him well on the next step of his journey beyond our team, and bringing a new driver lineup to JTR that works well is our first priority. Kento fits the profile well, and we hope to give him the opportunity to race at the top of the field going forward.’ - Gankuganji, Team Principal

 

‘I am incredibly honoured to be offered this opportunity going forward, to drive for a team that is at the top of the field, and alongside a double world champion to prove my worth. I will work hard to earn the team’s respect and deliver the best results possible.’ - Kento, JTR Race Driver, 2015

 

—

 

GETOU FANPAGE @ Scunteria 1h ago

So are we celebrating or are we crying???????? What’s the memo here

3.4K Likes  134 Retweets  53 Replies 

> annie squared  @ annieanniel 49m ago

No announcement from Keicho… what is going on???

1.4K Likes 56 Retweets 12 Replies 

 

RACING NEWS ☑  @ racingnewsunofficial 4h ago

It’s official. Getou will NOT remain with JTR in 2015. Read more: {link}

[Image Description: Getou standing on the podium in Abu Dhabi 2014. He’s glistening with sweat, eyes closed, head tipped to the sky]

10.4K Likes  203 Retweets  405 Replies 

 

> josie <3 / 73 @ josieprincesses 2h ago

This makes zero sense, jtr is still gonna be fastest, rite?

2.4K Likes  43 Retweets  15 Replies 

>> ATSUYA KUSAKABE ☑  @ AtsuyaOfficial 1h ago

Yes. He seems to be leaving because of internal conflict with Gojo, according to sources, not because of the car. 

2.4K Likes  200 Retweets  400 Replies 

 

hannie 37  @ satorusboots 2h ago

No comment from gojo in that statement… um is he ok??? I need to know his thoughts rn

3.4K Likes  121 Retweets  43 Replies 

 

—

 

Scuderia Keicho ☑  @ ScuderiaKeichoOfficial 4m ago

We can confirm that our driver lineup will remain the same going forward into the 2015 season. Suguru Getou will not drive for us. Read more in the statement from the team: {link}

2.4K Likes  198 Retweets  89 Replies 

> josie <3 / 73 @ josieprincesses 2m ago

Oh, fuck. 

1.9K Likes  54 Retweets  21 Replies 

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

Satoru flexes his fingers on the wheel and holds his breath. P9 is his lowest grid start this season, and seeing all the cars in front of him feels– strange. Like an old glove, not worn in a while and a little bit stiff. He knows how to do this, but he’s a good qualifier. He doesn’t need to, often. 

There’s the option of a one stop strategy, if they’re brave. Stay out longer, try and go to a hard tyre instead of a medium, saving time in the pitlane. But it’s risky. It leaves them vulnerable to a safety car, or just– being overtaken on fresher tyres. 

“Last car pulling up to the grid now,” Shoko says, clean and crisp. Satoru’s hand comes up to his visor, touching, making sure it’s clipped in place. “Focus on the lights,” 

Five seconds later, Satoru is driving. It’s easier than he remembers, to pick off the cars one by one, slipping through the middle into a place where he can overtake. It’s hard, from the cockpit, to keep track of his own position, with about five cars all around him vying for the same positions as he is. He ends up slotting in behind Mai into turn one, hauling the car through the chicane and trying to keep up with Mai when they start accelerating through turn three. 

“Position?” 

“You’re P7,” Shoko says, her voice crackling, “car behind is Mei, we need to work hard to keep within Zenin’s DRS,”

“Understood. Where’s Megumi?” 

“P9,” Shoko says, “let’s focus on your race, though, please,” 

Satoru laughs into his helmet. He can imagine her face on the pitwall, deadly serious as she stares at the data and the screens, leaning forward with her hands placed downwards on her lap. 

He remembers her telling him that in 2015, struggling with her confidence to do her job, she’d gone to a seminar, where someone had told her that to assert herself and believe in her own decisions, she just had to place her palms down on her thighs. It’s a psychological trick, one that she still uses, sometimes, in meetings. 

Down the straight, he tucks into Mai’s slipstream. This is racing old school, he knows how to do this, he knows Mai doesn’t. 

He dives down the inside at the last possible moment, and he’s ahead at the apex, wheel-to-wheel, and it burns through him. 

“Good job, P6,” Shoko says, and Satoru can hear her grin. They know each other so well. 

 

—

 

Getou resigned because of internal conflict at JTR. Are they in trouble? / Opinion Pieces / G1 News 

Written by Atsuya Kusakabe, 4th January 2015

 

The decision of the newly minted 2014 world champion Suguru Getou to end his career prematurely, by breaking contract, has sent shockwaves across the paddock, and created a knock-on effect that has lead to Nanami Kento leaving Haein, and Haein signing a new rookie from G2. 

What many fans are more concerned with, however, with very little information, nor a statement from either Gojo or Getou, is what led to the former’s decision to leave a team that continues to be successful and provide championship-level cars. Many sources close to both drivers have pointed to tension between the two sides of the garage as a major factor in Getou’s decision to depart without a drive for the 2015 season… (READ MORE)

 

—

 

SATORU GOJO ☑  @ satorugojo37 1h ago

@atsuyaofficial that article is a load of bullshit, by the way. u shld lose ur license.

21.4K Likes  2.1K Retweets  406 Replies 

> yuki tsukumo ☑  @ tsukumoyuki 49m ago

Want to add on to this: yeah, that article is bull, he couldn’t cite his sources because he has none. 

10.4K Likes  503 Retweets  121 Replies 

 

Liela / Getou wdc  @ icldkissurn 4h ago

OH MY GOD???? Gojo is out for blood lmao?

1.4K Likes  54 Retweets  26 Replies 

> RACING NEWS ☑  @ racingnewsunofficial 3h ago

Yuki as well… what’s going on

597 Likes  22 Retweets  2 Replies 

 

—

 

Satoru: fuck you

Satoru: japan? I wldve come w u

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

“Box, box,” 

He’s in P4 when he comes into the pitlane for his second pitstop. It’s quick, incredibly so, but the race is tight and as he pulls away he feels like it might just be two tenths too slow. 

“Out lap critical, watch for Zenin at pit exit,” Shoko says, voice tense. Satoru sees her in his mirrors immediately, coming down th pit straight, hurtling towards him, but– he’ll be ahead. 

They go wheel-to-wheel through the chicane, with Mai slipping behind, just slightly. But her tyres are warmer, and she’ll have the advantage down the straight and a DRS boost. Satoru has to work hard to keep her behind, covering the inside into turn four and trying to create a gap through the twisty sections of sector two. 

“Gap behind?” 

“Point-five, she’ll have DRS coming down the main straight,” Shoko says, “staying ahead is critical for your race, now, she is slower,” 

Satoru tries to not give her a slipstream down the main straight, weaving slightly to break it, but the DRS on the Meiji is one of the most effective, he knows. She’s close, then to his inside coming into turn one, then– 

He feels it from behind. The shunt. The wheel snaps in his hands and the car spins out, careening towards the barriers. On instinct he turns, tries to correct, but it’s too late. He swears down the radio, “that’s a fucking penalty,” 

“Are you okay?” Shoko says, but he’s already trying to turn, get the car going again– 

He sees three more cars speed past him, before he can roll back out on track again. “Do I have damage?” 

“Yes, we’re checking the extent,” Shoko says.

“Position?” 

“You’re P11,” 

Satoru lets the silence sit around him, feeling the damage in the car, because he’s definitely slower. He knows what’s coming. 

“Box, box, we need to replace the front wing.” 

Satoru screams into his helmet. 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - SAO PAULO GP 2022 

 

ATSUYA KUSAKABE: And the chequered flag is out, and Itadori will find it in brilliant time, to win the Sao Paulo Grand Prix, and with it, twenty five points to his tally, bringing him above Gojo in the standings–

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Ah, well, Gojo’s quite close to the points positions in this last lap– 

AK: Okkotsu comes home for second, a one-two finish for Keicho, then Fushiguro in third–

 

—

 

“P10. One point. That’s gonna be important, Gojo,” 

“At least she got a penalty.” 

“Agreed.”

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY-THREE - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Yuuji ITADORI (+1)	Scuderia Keicho	370
2	Satoru GOJO (-1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	370
3	Yuuta OKKOTSU (=)	Scuderia Keicho	312
4	Megumi FUSHIGURO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	302
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	245
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	180
7	Nobara KUGISAKI (+1)	Meiji	120
8	Mai ZENIN (-1)	Meiji	114
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	83
10	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	77

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWENTY-THREE

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Scuderia Keicho (+1)	682
2	Jujutsu Technical Racing (-1)	672
3	Sengoku (=)	425
4	Meiji (=)	234
5	Haein (=)	88
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	80

 

—

 

Satoru goes to the podium celebrations. If anyone asks, it’s for Megumi, for the team. He looks up and sees Yuuji, grinning, hair dye dripping down his face. Megumi’s looking at him like he hung the stars, and then Yuuta comes up behind them, dumping champagne straight over Yuuji and grinning at him. 

Suguru’s on the podium with them, wearing his shirt, covered in champagne. He grabs at Yuuji’s shoulders, and points down to the Keicho guys just beside them. His gaze catches on Satoru, though. And Satoru’s proud of it. He raises his hands, clapping slowly, mouths game on. 

Suguru grins back. 

 

—

 

WINNER TAKES ALL: Gojo and Itadori equal on points going into Abu Dhabi

Written by Josh Kitchener, 14th November 2022

 

As a result of contact with Mai Zenin in the last stint of the Sao Paulo Grand Prix, Gojo dropped to last, and could only fight his way to tenth by the time the chequered flag fell, leading Yuuji Itadori to a win that demolished the twenty-five point gap Gojo held over his closest rival coming into the weekend. For the first time in over a decade, this means we see two drivers equal on points coming into the last race weekend of the year, with an epic winner-take-all finale to decide the driver’s champion of 2022. 

At present, Yuuji leads the championship, with his nine wins to Gojo’s seven over the course of the season. But unless both drivers crash out in Abu Dhabi, that advantage is unlikely to provide him with any comfort going into the biggest race weekend of his career so far. 

Still: it’s a narrative for the ages. The record-holder, versus the young upstart, the veteran versus the underdog, the mentor versus the protege. The world is watching to see who comes out on top. 

 

[Image Description: A photo taken during the podium ceremony at the Sao Paulo GP 2022. With a wide lens, we see Itadori and Getou on the podium, with Okkotsu and Fushiguro behind, holding champagne bottles. Below, the crowd gathered clamours to see its champions, and on the barrier, with his arms raised, is Gojo, still in his race suit. His hands are raised in frozen applause. There’s confetti everywhere, in the air, stuck to everyone. The sun is behind them.]

 

—

Notes:

.... so
um
anyways. thoughts? DONT SHOOT DO- [gunshot noises]

uploading this after imola fp2.. formula one is BACK BABY max is complaining, leclerc is p1 dunking four tenths on sainz, yuki p3 dunking seven tenths on ricciardo... oh imola. ooooohhhhhh (guys manifest. lock hands. we are getting a leclerc race win).

track in this chapter is Autodromo Jose Carlos Pace, or Interlagos, home of the Sao Paulo GP. its one of my favourite tracks!!

another fun fact, the hands-down thing that is mentioned with shoko is something redbull engineer and strategist hannah schmitz has spoken about! i love her.

i continue to be quite sick, and riddled with uni deadlines. i will reply on tumblr, but not here. i am dipping til june (actually!!) now. this chapter was just burning a hole in my brain..

Chapter 23: xxiii - blue flags

Summary:

A flag used to indicate that the car should make way for a faster car behind. Used in practice to indicate the car behind is on a hot lap, or in the race to indicate the car is being lapped by the leaders and should make way.

Notes:

happy silverstone weekend! i wanna be clear that we do not support mclaren on this page! thank you. manifest wisely.

here's 11k. enjoy, and theres a surprise at the end, even if you've already read this chapter on early access!!

Could Keicho re-sign Getou next year? / Opinion Pieces

 

BREAKING: JTR to Introduce Driver Development Program from 2016 onwards

 

Could Kento challenge Gojo in 2015? - Gankuganji on their new driver pairing / G1 / Interviews

 

“Weight is becoming a real concern” - Tsukumo on new regulations

 

—

 

MELBOURNE 2015 - G1 Grand Prix - Final Results

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing
2	Utahime IORI	Scuderia Keicho
3	Toji FUSHIGURO	Sengoku Racing

(CLICK TO EXPAND)

 

—

 

Gojo looks stronger than ever: ROUND ONE ROUNDUP - MELBOURNE 2015 

Written by Josh Kitchener, 16th March 2015

 

Satoru Gojo proved all his critics wrong at the weekend, shutting down any notion that his new teammate would prove to be more of a challenge to him than his previous, storming home for a dominant grand slam victory in Melbourne, leading every lap from start to finish with a margin of twenty-five seconds to Keicho’s… (Click to read more)

 

—

 

Satoru: see i cna do it wihttoutt u

Satoru: i wonreder if u r watchinging

Satoru: i miss you

 

Satoru: ok sorry for tht lol

Satoru: i dunno what got in2 me 

Satoru: if u wanna come back to the paddock we wld lt u tho

 

—

 

Me: can you shut down those Keicho rumours? Don’t want anyone getting false hope

 

Yuki ICE: I’ll try. But the rumour mill runs on nothing u know that

 

Me: thanks

 

Yuki ICE: You need to talk to him suguru. He keeps asking about you. 

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

For some godforsaken reason, the higher-ups have decided to put the final two races of the season in a double-header, which means there’s not really any time to go home in between Brazil and Abu Dhabi. 

Even though Satoru had rolled his eyes at calls about making the sport more eco friendly (they drive fuel-guzzling cars, for fuck’s sake), even he had raised his eyebrows a little at this part of the calendar. Less than seven days to get halfway across the world, readjust to the time zone, and race again. The flight is long, twenty hours with a layover in the middle, just this side of hell.

But for now, without the stickiness of champagne on his skin, he’s escorted back to the media pen, back to his responsibilities. He’s thrown in front of a microphone and scolded for being late, which he takes in stride. It’s just another day in the office, after all, he tells them, another race where he’s managed to finish in the points, something out of his control. 

The last person he gets rounded up and taken to is Yuki. Because of course it’s Yuki. 

“You okay, Gojo?” She says, flashing her perfect white teeth and tucking her blonde hair behind her shoulder, and Satoru feels his eye twitching. 

“Perfect, actually,” he says, smiling in what he thinks might be more of a grimace than anything else. Annoyingly, she just laughs. Like water off a duck. 

“So,” she says, then, frowning, “oh you speak Italian, don’t you?” 

Satoru blinks. “Si.” 

“Oh, right, that’s easier then, we won’t need the translators,” she grins, switching to Italian, flawless and easy like someone who’s spent years with Keicho. 

“You know I speak Italian,” Gojo grits out, “I drive for Italy,” 

“There’s a couple of other drivers that don’t, I didn’t want to assume,” she says, prim, “I just didn’t know.” 

Something boils over inside him. It’s so stupid, is the thing. He’s disliked her for so long, and disliking her makes him feel like a kid in all the worst ways. He switches to Japanese, leaning away from the microphone. “Yuki, is this about Suguru? Some grudge? I’m sorry, for being an idiot about it back then, but you know I speak Italian, you’ve watched me, this is stupid.” 

Yuki’s eyebrows shoot right up her face. She replies with half a smile on her face, disbelieving, in Japanese also. Satoru doubts they have the translators for this, hopes they’re far enough away from the microphones for the fans to not get their hands on the clip and translate it themselves. “Gojo, honestly. I just thought you didn’t like me.” 

“I don’t, particularly, but it’s because of this, and I thought it was because of Suguru-” 

“I think you’re both idiots,” Yuki says, “and I think you’re even more of an idiot for doing this in what’s supposed to be an interview.” 

Satoru leans back and sighs, tipping his head to the sky and clenching his jaw. “Right,” 

“We can talk later, if you want,” Yuki says, quiet, still in Japanese, “but now-”

“Italian, right,” Satoru grins, leaning back towards the mic, “go on. I’ve been asked every inflammatory question already,”

Yuki smiles back, eyes twinkling, “and I’m going to ask you a few more,” 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR TOP 3 PRESS CONFERENCE - POST-RACE SAO PAULO GRAND PRIX 2022, Hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome to our top three finishers of the 2022 Sao Paulo Grand Prix, in third, Megumi Fushiguro, in second, Yuuta Okkotsu, and in first, taking his tenth career victory and ninth of the season, Yuuji Itadori! Yuuji, what a race out there, and this victory puts you on top of the drivers’ standings. How are you feeling? 

YUUJI ITADORI: No, I’m not top of the drivers’ standings, we’re even on points, right? 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: You have more wins this season, though. 

YI: Do I? Oh. God, I didn’t realise. Um. I feel pretty good now! I knew, obviously, with the points gap that I had to win this race to keep any semblance of pressure on Gojo going into Abu Dhabi, but we were all expecting him to still finish pretty high-up, since Interlagos is a track where overtaking is quite easy overall. I– I only really saw in the cooldown room what happened, it was so unlucky for him, so I definitely need to keep my head in the game going into next week, he’s still performing at an incredibly high level. 

Q: So you saw the collision in the cooldown room? What did you think of it? 

YI: That maybe I need to send a thank-you letter to Mai, [Zenin] I dunno! [laughs] Maybe I shouldn’t joke about that. It’ll get us in trouble, for like, collusion, or something. Um. It very obviously wasn’t his fault, and it happens on tracks like these, and when the drivers in the lower midfield are fighting so hard for points. It just ended up being fortunate for me. 

Q: So, are you feeling it now? The pressure? I believe the last time we had a tie going into the final round of the championship was in 1994, between Sukuna and Kenjaku. 

YI: It’s really been that long? [pause] I dunno. I just wanna win. I’ve got one shot, to beat him, really, and this is it. It’s more– I dunno. I’m excited, I think. That we’ve got ourselves a little showdown. 

Q: Okay, Yuuta, moving on to you. Second, how are you feeling? 

YUUTA OKKOTSU: Tired, mostly. A lot of defending in that one. [to Fushiguro] You certainly didn’t make it easy for me in those last few laps. 

Q: With this one-two finish, you now also lead the constructors’ championship by about ten points. Is that something that’s in your mind coming into Abu Dhabi?

YO: Yes. Now that I am not in a position to win in the drivers’ standings, my focus must turn to helping the team as much as possible and helping my teammate secure his championship. 

Q: To you, Megumi, you fought hard out there. Are you pleased with the podium? 

MF: Ah. No, I’d be lying if I said I was happy with third. With less mistakes today I could have been sitting in second, or maybe even first, and we’re in a position where every point counts, for both Gojo and the team. 

Q: So, is the constructors’ championship on your mind heading into Abu Dhabi, too? 

MF: Of course. I need to deliver the highest results possible, and third today wasn’t the best I could have done. 

 

—

 

It turns out that Yuki’s staying at the same hotel as him, in the end. She’s looking at her phone sitting at the bar when he sees her, chewing on the straw of her cocktail absentmindedly. She looks infuriatingly perfect: blonde hair straight, tight black dress, red lipstick. There’s a clutch bag, gold chain sprawling out across the bar. It’s some kind of designer, some sort of expensive. 

She smiles at something on her phone, her eyes glistening in the low light. Theyhadn't really planned to meet here, is the thing. Gojo's still got the residuals of the day stuck to him, even if he's showered since he raced, back in his driver's room at the track. Yuki, by comparison, looks perfect. 

She gnaws more on the straw. From where he stands, Gojo can see the lipstick on it, the chew marks. She stirs the drink and looks up as a man walks over, taking a seat next to her at the bar and-

That's Choso Itadori. 

He hasn't seen Choso in a while. Despite supposedly living in Monaco, the man is invisible, and only gets spotted when he wants to be. It's sort of a joke, how elusive he is, with the fans, with the media. Yuki is too, sure, but it's less of a big deal, because she offers herself up into the spotlight, sitting pretty with a microphone and giving scathing opinions on half the grid, just like she did when she was still on the grid.  

Choso stills, standing at the bar. His hair is longer than it used to be, pulled back in braids away from his face, spare strands notwithstanding. He smiles, and it's loose, easy. Gojo wishes he could say it's changed from when he was racing, that he looks to have found something more away from the track. Maybe it would be a comfort. But Choso's always been that way: open, even if he was a little blunt. 

Yuki's face is turned away from him, looking at Choso at the bar. He remembers an interview, or maybe a broadcast snippet from a few years ago: my favourite teammate, along with Getou, of course. 

It's not like the competition is stiff. She partnered Mei Mei in her first two seasons, who's famously annoying to deal with on race weekends, and hates marketing, makes it go slower. And Getou was-- he was different. Comparing the world champion you look up to and get to drive alongside to the rookie kid that took his place? It's like comparing how different fish would climb a tree. And yet... 

Choso's hand comes out, tucks Yuki's hair away from her back. It's only when Satoru watches Choso's knuckles skimming down her back that he realises Yuki's dress is backless, showing the ridges of her spine in the intimate lighting of the bar. He rests an elbow on the bar, leaning down as Yuki speaks, showing him something on his phone. Choso raises his eyebrows, his mouth quirking up at the edges. Yuki, too, smiles, brilliant and white. 

And Satoru decides he's had enough. 

He walks over. He's underdressed, sure, compared to them, but he's also a six time world champion, more than both of them combined, and he's the star here, really. He sits down in the seat next to Yuki, and huffs. Yuki looks up as he does, utterly unruffled. 

"Oh, hello, Gojo. I thought you were going to text me." 

"Yeah, well-" 

Satoru doesn't know, actually. He feels like this should be a gotcha card. He feels like he could call another journalist tomorrow and this would be on the front pages of some motorsport magazine by the end of the day. There are always paddock rumours, is the thing. When Yuki left, people were saying it was for love, because she was pregnant, because she was eloping. Satoru had never believed them, really. Mostly because Suguru had been adamant it wasn't any of those things, but he wouldn't tell him the real reason, either, so. There was that. 

Choso looks unbothered. Like they're not in public. Like he's not with a girl almost ten years his junior, the girl that beat him and ultimately ended up killing his career, the blonde beauty of the sport, the barbie, the living proof that girls can be world champions too. She's got a legacy, is the thing. A legacy built in red and black, cemented in an abrupt retirement, a never-ending what if?

Satoru beat her, though, so he's not afraid. 

He looks at them again. Yuki blinks a few times. Choso runs his knuckles along her spine, comforting and subconscious. And Satoru has an awful thought. 

"So, you two?" 

Yuki smiles. "Yeah. And you and Suguru?" 

"How long? Since you were teammates?" Satoru really doesn't know how to feel about it, because Yuki looked up to him. He remembers the interviews, sort of. The snippets of her with stars in her eyes talking about Choso, about the world championship, about a future in Keicho. Choso had welcomed her with open arms and a soft smile from the beginning, placid even as he got driven out of his own team. 

Satoru hadn’t wanted to be placid. It’s never been in his nature. He wanted to not let go, to draw blood with claws and teeth and sharp words. It was his team, his championship, until somebody said otherwise. Then it was theirs, held together, and Satoru thought that the fight was part of it: part of the charm of what they were. He realised a beat too late that it wasn’t, that there was a real struggle, that he was in a losing battle. By then, he didn’t know how to be mellow. Not many racing drivers do. 

Choso sighs, deep and long, like he’s been asked this question before. Even as Yuki elbows him, he speaks measured and calm, “no, it happened after. Trying that with a teammate would have got me fired,” 

Yuki laughs, a bright sound, slipping into Italian, and Choso turns away immediately, flagging down the bartender in English. Satoru focuses on her, on the way her mouth moves around the vowels. “That’s like asking if you and Suguru were–” she waves her hand, “back then. Completely implausible.” 

Satoru thinks about it. He remembers his first kiss, still, as clear as day. As clear as the skies in Mugello. He remembers the sweet salty smell of her perfume, the taste of champagne that he was still too young to drink on her mouth. Remembers his back, against the wall, cold against the sticky sweat and heat of his skin, fresh out of the car. He remembers holding the trophy, not pushing her away, and then realising that despite her being pretty - a model, he remembers - and objectively sort of the perfect girlfriend for a racing driver, he had hated it. It was too quick, too bright. He remembers an apology spilling from his mouth immediately after she broke away, hands shaking by his sides. Her confusion at the rejection, and the way he felt guilty looking at the mechanic that was actually dating her for months, until he got word that they'd broken up because she'd slept with a driver in G2. Younger than her, but older than he was. He remembers relief flooding him like a sickness. 

He remembers some of his first race wins. He remembers holding the trophy above his head karting and his dad clapping for him, slow. He remembers a phone call where his mom had said no to Shoko's parents meeting them for dinner, and he remembers her calling them gold diggers, desperate. For a while after, Satoru had struggled to look Shoko in the eyes. He knew it wasn't true, and yet it was still-- 

It was still said. About her. And Satoru knew she just wanted to race, really. That was it. 

Maybe that was why he wanted her to stay in grade racing so badly. He hasn't really examined it too much. He was much too caught up in doing everything he could to keep Suguru by his side, to give anything to do it. 

He remembers the first time he kissed another man. He was sixteen, maybe. It had been awkward, in the gaps between the motorhomes at some race, always at a race, miles from home. He saw Suguru right after and felt it gnaw at his stomach, never told him. Never told anyone, really. He hasn't had that privilege. He remembers watching the boys and the girls getting questions about their first kisses right in front of the endless swarm of press and them being able to answer honestly, with little giggles, with a tuck of hair here and a lovelorn sigh there. Something to make them relatable, appealing, down to earth. 

Gojo just lied. The same thing, every time. A girl back home, no, we don't still talk. Maybe she knows how good I've become in her absence, maybe she doesn't. She's not in motorsport, not a celebrity. 

He remembers the first time he had sex with a man. He had been older than him, promised to make it good, held a vial to his nose to sniff that had made his nose bleed in the morning, crusted and forgotten about. It was good, taking it, being made to forget who you were for a bit, being humbled.  He'd been seventeen, but the man had thought he was twenty. Satoru remembers the angry barrage of texts in the morning when he figured it out, blocked him, and moved on. He didn't even need to make him sign an NDA. It would have made him a criminal, if he outed anything. 

He doesn't remember meeting Suguru Getou. He knows it was at a track, like all things were, back then. He knows it was in Japan, in his first trip back there in over two years. But he doesn't remember meeting him, saying hello, shaking hands. He does remember, though, rolling over in bed and texting him, knowing he couldn't reply because of the gap between them: the Atlantic ocean and then some. He remembers having a best friend, someone who he could grab onto and make his, more than the karts, or his family, or even Shoko. Because this was something he chose. Somebody he chose. 

He woke up and he just knew him. Knowing him better than anyone else. Having a rival who he understood, who wasn’t afraid of him, or his name, or his money, or his dad. There was quite a big list of things that followed Gojo that made him scary, is the thing. Getou had looked at all of them and took his hand anyway, shook him around and joked with him right where everyone could see. Unafraid, unapologetic. 

“It wasn’t implausible, though, was it?” Satoru replies, in Italian. He hopes Choso knows as little Italian as the press claims he does. He never quite bled red like Yuki. 

Yuki scoffs, and her eyebrows shoot up her forehead. “So you were?” 

“Obviously not.” Satoru huffs. “We were stupid and I didn’t even realise, until it was way too late. But everyone thought it. I heard the rumours about us, that we were–” he stops just short of swearing, “sleeping together. Mostly the mechanics, or the staff, laughing about it, y’know? But it was just noise. We- all I ever wanted was to be in G1 together,” 

“Well, the fans kept saying I was sleeping with him. God. I had to tell a reporter off for it, once. Really badly. The press team at Keicho almost combusted, that day.” 

Satoru blinks. “You wouldn’t have been banned from the sport for that. We– we could’ve been.” 

“It was still a horrible insinuation. He’s so much younger than me– I mean, like a little brother,” 

“Choso and you have a bigger age gap,” Satoru squints, and Yuki plasters that smile back on her face. 

“Don’t throw stones from glass houses, Gojo,” she says, “I remember the mechanics. You were awful for it. Had a reputation, if I remember correctly.” 

Satoru grimaces. They’ve gone off track, and he’s not a fan of remembering those days, really. It had been stupid, desperate. He’d stopped, mostly, once he was a world champion. But actually dating people when you were closeted and also in love with someone else never really worked out either. “I never hated you,” he says, for lack of a better sentence. He fumbles over the words in his mouth. They’re true but sometimes they don’t feel like it, when everything he felt back then, so big and overwhelming, was churned together in a blender. 

Yuki softens. Choso, behind her, is just sipping away at his drink, unbothered. 

“I know you didn’t, Gojo. It– I must admit that it was just a little funny, how possessive you were of him, and then you–” she laughs, but it’s wistful, this time, “-you were so bristly back then. I wasn’t taking him away from you,” 

“You said I didn’t–” Satoru corrects himself, “you said it was dangerous to have me in the sport.” 

“I did. I still think it was,” Yuki says, “you were always a capable driver, but– no one believes me when I say this but these kids coming through need to learn how to be people, too, and you weren’t anything yet. You didn’t have the experience you needed to deal with– God, I mean. Toji. The pundits chatting shit. The inflammatory questions, the fans.” 

Satoru dips his head down, looking down at his hands and the scars that line his knuckles. He thinks about the faint– so faint, now– scars on Suguru’s body, the line on his forehead. “That’s not dangerous, though, is it? It’s just a pain to deal with, another headline.” 

Yuki scoffs, “for you, it was. For Suguru, too, if we’re being honest with ourselves.” 

“Suguru came through the right channels, compared to me,” Satoru finds himself saying, blinking, “he wasn’t a kid,” 

“He was still– he still wasn’t a person, yet, and then he was straight into the top team, the championship. I think you two were so similar, in that way, straight into the spotlight.” 

“I dunno, all racers are kind of the same,” Satoru says, thinking out loud. Yuki tucks her hair behind her ear. 

“All world champions.” When Satoru blinks at her, she carries on, “I think we have to sacrifice most things, to get what we want,” 

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I’m sorry for everything, with Suguru, you know. I didn’t-” 

“You didn’t know. I don’t think any of us did.” 

“You did… right? He told you, before he told any of us-” 

“No– I mean-” Yuki looks him up and down. “How to be a person, not just a driver,” 

“Oh.” 

“It’s okay. We’re learning now.” 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT FOR TOP THREE PRESS CONFERENCE -  POST RACE, SPANISH GP 2015 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (Alex McKinnon, G1 Daily): So, Gojo, congratulations, this is your fourth win of the season and your third in a row. You’ve not been off the podium, yet, either, and this has given you a significant lead in the championship. How are you feeling? 

SATORU GOJO: Good. It’s a nice feeling to lead the championship, obviously. We had pole today so it was good to convert it, and the car feels very, very good. 

Q (Atsuya Kusakabe, G1TV): Question to Gojo, and potentially Nanami also if he has a comment. Gojo, your relationship with your ex-teammate was well-documented, and until last season, incredibly positive. You knew him well: he was someone you knew from karts, a best friend, a rival, a teammate, a childhood shadow. Everything but a girlfriend, really. So, how does the relationship with Nanami compare to that? So far, you’ve been out qualifying him, and out performing him, does that help keep the relationship sweet compared to the rivalry you shared with Getou throughout your seasons as teammates? 

[Long Pause]

NANAMI KENTO: [to Gojo] Do I–? Okay. Uh- me and Gojo, we are completely different. I was bought in as a solid dependable driver, not to rival him or necessarily replace Getou. We’ve all known each other a long time, since karts, and since the lower Grades, and pitting us against each other, it’s– yeah. God, I don’t know, you can’t compare me to Getou, I don’t think. It would be unfair. 

SG: Sorry, just to clarify, you called Suguru– childhood shadow? That’s– he’s a world champion, the reigning world champion. He’s made me work harder for championships than anyone else I’ve ever known, his feedback in the team made us faster, his setup choices helped me. He’s far more than a shadow to me. [pause] And we’re not friends anymore, so. 

Q: You’re not? 

SG: We don’t talk. 

Q (Josh Kitchener - The Independent Motor Magazine): Question to all three of you, there’s been a lot of talk on Getou’s return to the sport next year given his shock exit this season. Keicho have both of their drivers up for renewal at the end of 2015, and have been somewhat open about wanting to welcome him home to the team, but there’s been radio silence from all parties on the matter. Since all three of you know him well, would you expect him to make a return? 

UTAHIME IORI: Anything could happen. I’d welcome him back alongside me. 

NANAMI KENTO: I don’t think many of us expect him to stay away from the sport for too long, but it depends on performance and things on all sides. I think it depends on where a spot opens up for him, on how much money he wants. 

Q (HOST): Anything, Gojo? 

SG: He won’t return to the sport. He’s done. 

 

—

 

Satoru: r u even watching races

Satoru: god

 

Satoru: yk ill say it yukis an asshole

 

Shoko: fuck you

 

Satoru: can i come see you pls

Satoru: dude idk what i did i thought we were gd

 

—

 

BRITISH GRAND PRIX 2015: GOJO INJURED IN COLLISION WITH FUSHIGURO, KENTO TRIUMPHANT

 

—

 

Yuki ICE: He’s okay. 

 

Me: That was deliberate

Me: through copse? It could have killed him

 

Yuki ICE: yeah. But gojos fine, just a broken collarbone, some bones in his hand and concussion

Yuki ICE: this time im getting toji out of this fucking sport. 

 

Me: He got away with it last time how are you even going to do that?

 

Me: Yuki reply ??

 

Yuki ICE: Ill lyk 

 

—

 

GOJO TO REMAIN OUT FOR HUNGARIAN GP AND POSSIBLY BEYOND: 2015 G1 CHAMPIONSHIP

 

GANKUGANJI STEPPING DOWN END OF SEASON: Is JTR in trouble? - Opinion Pieces

 

—

 

Satoru: idk wht 2 say 2 u 2 make u com back

Satoru: i ned u herer

Satoru: mayb its th morphine

 

[UNSENT] Me: yeah. Definitely the morphine

[UNSENT] Me: i hope that fucker gets banned fo

[UNSENT] Me: i hope toji di

[UNSENT] Me: i dont know how to

[UNSENT] Me: i think shoko hates m

[UNSENT] Me: i think you h

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

“Apparently you talked to Yuki!” Suguru’s hand is big and cold at the base of Satoru’s neck compared to the heat in the club. Satoru hadn’t seen him approaching through the sea of people. Shoko’s here, somewhere. He’s mostly waiting for her to get back, trying to stay out of the way of the sea of Keicho mechanics, keeping track of Megumi and Nobara and Yuuji flitting their way about on the dancefloor. Megumi looks sticky and frazzled, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling as Yuuji places his hands on his shoulders, wobbling him back and forth. 

Suguru sees where he’s looking, side-stepping so that they bump shoulders and he’s looking in the same direction. Satoru hums. “They’re being careful.” 

“Yeah.” Suguru says. He’s smiling, too, this big wide easy thing that spreads all the way down his shoulders and makes him half-melt into the crux of Satoru’s body. It’s acceptable here, where everyone is so close to be able to hear each other anyway. “I feel like I should threaten Megumi to not distract him before the decider,” 

“It’s pure luck you even have a decider,” Satoru finds himself grinning, pinching at the soft skin above Suguru’s hip. 

“No, no, I paid off Zenin, actually,” Suguru grins, eyes creasing at the corners. Sometimes Satoru wishes it were simpler than this, that he could just reach out and hold in front of everyone, and for it to all be okay. For everything to be just a little easier. 

“Oh yeah, should I take that to the higher ups?” Satoru shoves him, just slightly, and Suguru laughs, his hand dropping to the center of his shoulderblades. 

“Yes, because famously, the higher-ups take cheating and fixing races very seriously,” 

“They do when they’re not in on it,” Suguru taps Satoru’s spine, just as Shoko comes back, holding wine and a mocktail. 

“Oh, I hadn’t seen you,” she says, “I would’ve got you something,” 

Suguru drops his hand and Satoru mourns the loss. “It’s okay, Shoko.” 

Shoko shrugs and hands Satoru his mocktail. It’s nice, sweet and sour all rolled into one. Sighing, Shoko reaches up to pat Suguru on the shoulder. “So, you must be happy. Equal on points.” 

Suguru grins, sharp and brilliant and competitive. “Of course. Where’s the fun without the stakes, huh?” 

“There’s plenty of fun without it,” Shoko rolls her eyes. “You two cause me too much stress.” 

“Will you stay in JTR?” Suguru hums, hand coming up to touch his necklace, “engineer for Nobara?” 

“Ah, Nobara wants Maki to come with her,” Shoko smiles, “which I can understand. They’re a great team already, and they know each other well. So I won’t be engineering for her,” 

“You’d be an upgrade on Kamo for Megs, though,” Suguru squints, “would you-” 

“Suguru.” Shoko chides, looking over her shoulder, “you can’t just say that.” 

The thing is, it’s the truth, but- “she’s gonna go back to school, aren’t you?” Satoru says. He’s proud of her, of the decision she’s making to go back, “Yaga said they’ll pay, she’s gonna come back and work in the design,” 

Suguru’s eyes go wide. “God. That’s good. Scary for me, in the future, but good,” 

“Thank you,” Shoko smiles, warm, sipping from her wine. “It’ll be good to be away for a bit. I was only doing it for him-” she elbows Satoru, who mimes being in pain- “anyway.” 

“Ah, thankless, then,” Suguru is saying, sarcastic, and Satoru opens his mouth to clear his name as Shoko giggles.

“Yeah, completely,” she swallows, looking up at him, “but I’ll miss it,” 

Satoru slings an arm over her shoulder and pulls her close, ruffling her hair with his spare hand. She protests, weakly, but leans into it all the same. 

Yuuji chooses that particular moment to bound over, almost sloshing his own drink all over the floor, grinning wildly. “Getou, come dance- oh, Gojo! We should all-” 

He grabs at Getou, pulling him back toward the crowd, but his hand slips away from Satoru’s wrist, glancing off it. He repels Yuuji’s puppy dog eyes, laughing as Suguru sends him a look that screams save me . Satoru pays no mind. “We’ll catch up,” he says, holding Shoko’s wrist, just lightly. Yuuji accepts this at face value, nodding wildly and dragging Suguru off into the midst of the dancefloor, where the mechanics welcome him with open arms and cheers. 

Shoko looks up at him. “What.” 

“You- have you two talked?”

“We’ve been talking,” Shoko says, “why? You want my blessing?” 

Satoru stutters, despite himself, watching Yuuji spin Suguru around. “I just– I dunno-” 

“He’s a lot better than he was,” rolling her eyes, Shoko bumps their shoulders together. “I think you two are good for each other, now. It feels like we all needed to grow up a little bit more.” 

Satoru releases a sigh he didn’t know he was holding onto until this moment. “Yeah.” 

Yuuji releases Suguru and turns back to Megumi and Nobara as the song changes. He’s vibrating out of his skin, and Satoru grins, about to make a comment to Shoko as, from nowhere, he’s yanked forward into the crowd, with laughter that sounds like music to his ears. 

The lights flicker, and suddenly he’s joined to Suguru and Shoko all at once, and her cheeks are flushed, pounding on his chest in protest, and Suguru is laughing, and Satoru– 

He looks across the dancefloor, where Nobara and Yuuji have joined hands, jumping around in circles, with Megumi watching them, a smile he doesn’t seem to even be aware of plastered on his face. 

Satoru turns back to Shoko and Suguru, and- his chest is tight. He jumps into them, arms looped over their shoulders, shouting, “I love you guys!” 

Suguru just laughs. 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - SAO PAULO GP 2016 

 

ATSUYA KUSAKABE: What a drive from Gojo today, to secure the championship despite starting in P5, and after missing those races he just seems–

YUKI TSUKUMO: He’s just been untouchable. He’s on another level. 

AK: It’s another level of awareness, it’s like he has six pairs of eyes out there, to pull off the overtakes he has. No other driver could do what he’s just done.

YT: No, I don’t think any other driver on the grid could do what he’s done. 

 

—

 

G1 Championship decided: Gojo clinches victory in Sao Paulo, despite missing three races this season 

 

BREAKING: GANKUGANJI TO STEP DOWN FROM TEAM PRINCIPAL POSITION IN JTR, YAGA TO REPLACE HIM

 

—

 

Satoru: i musssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss uuiu

Satoru: i thinsfk yuos hld cme backssad

 

Satoru: tojis gna b gone now

Satoru: ther was a bunch od eivdnedce sent to the team

Satoru: its over

 

—

 

SHOKO IERI WILL RETURN AS RACE ENGINEER FOR SATORU GOJO, REPLACING NEW TEAM PRINCIPAL MASAMICHI YAGA 

Jujutsu Technical Racing Press Release, December 12th 2015

 

—

 

G1 2016: Several Key Figures fired amid internal turbulence, G1 Daily has learned

Written by Hana King, January 4th 2016

 

—

 

Me: they’re actually being fired for it? 

 

Yuki ICE: yes. I sent everything to gakuganji and bc he was retiring he had nothing to lose really

Yuki ICE: the higher-ups were in on it. They’d planned to try and get gojo out for the rest of the season. 

 

Me: god. 

 

Yuki ICE: how are u doing?

 

Me: the karting team is going good. One of the kids won last week. 

 

Yuki ICE: you’ve really turned it around

 

Me: thank you. Watching and coaching is easier than driving

 

Yuki ICE: saw a photo of you on the floor tinkering with the karts. U looked cute! 

 

Me: shut up. 

 

—

 

BREAKING: TOJI FUSHIGURO TERMINATED EARLY FROM SENGOKU

Written by Hana King, January 16th 2016

 

—

 

November 2022, Brazil

 

Suguru laughs, full-bodied, as Satoru knocks the light from the table trying to turn it on. It’s not his fault he can’t see shit in the dark, really. Suguru walks beside him, turning, hitting the bed and the headboard all at once. Satoru hears it, but he doesn’t see it; not until he turns the light on. 

Then he sees Suguru in all his glory, shirt buttons undone, still slightly flushed from the club, sweat sticking at the tan on his skin. Satoru’s breath catches in his throat slightly as he thinks about running his tongue up the line of his jugular. Maybe biting. To remind everyone else who’s in charge here, just a little. 

He stops, momentarily, to think of a future where he can just say it. Where he can stand in the paddock and point, say that's my- husband, boyfriend, soulmate, and for no one to bat an eye. For the fans to not scream and cry and argue his titles should be revoked. For a time, maybe, where their relationship won't be micro-analysed in every aspect. Every look, every touch, every argument on camera. It's terrifying, the amount of Satoru's life he's given over to the sport. He wouldn't have it any other way, but-

Suguru looks up. His hair is in his face, but he quickly blows it out of the way, grinning. "What're you looking at, Satoru?" 

Satoru feels himself flush right the way down his chest. It's stupid, really. He's allowed to look. He's allowed to look, and hold, and do a bunch of other stuff that seemed as it were near-on impossible a matter of months ago, but also something he always had. He can't explain it. He sits on the couch next to him. 

"It's the title decider in Abu Dhabi for Mimiko, too, right?" He says, to slice through the tension. He doesn't know what he's talking about. He knows the G2 championship is pretty even, too, but he has to say something that isn't let me get on my knees and please pull my hair before I do something drastic like propose even though it would be a horrifically bad idea and you're drunk–

Suguru laughs again. "Yeah. She's excited, which probably makes her a bit of a freak. Like us, like Yuuji and Megs," 

"You call him Megs, now." 

"God, yeah. I'm trying to not slip up in the interviews." Suguru huffs, his chest rising and falling with it. Satoru tries very hard to not stare, and is only partially successful. "But you know about the G2 already, don't you?" 

Satoru's been caught. Red handed. In action, whatever. He nods, giving in to it. Into the feeling. "I'm just excited for all the racing, the rookies, you know," 

Suguru swallows, shuffling closer. It's an awkward movement and it definitely shouldn't be as attractive as it is. Satoru hums, "but I dunno, who will get it, and Yuuji's looking good recently and I guess I should be trying to blackmail you or-" 

He's cut off when Suguru kisses him, slow and sweet and so, so good. His lips move, and move, and Satoru allows himself to lean into it. To melt into it, allow himself to have it. They're on the couch . It's so stupid, here in the middle of a fucking penthouse suite, when they have a bed further in, something more comfy and more likely to fit both of them. Satoru huffs at the lack of heat and pushes up, hands on Suguru's shoulders as he pushes him back against the sofa and half-straddles him, almost tipping off the couch, knees only just holding on. 

When they break away, he's breathing harder than Suguru is, somehow. Suguru's grin is lazy, self-assured. Satoru wants to kick him. 

"You wanna stay here, then?" Suguru says, shameless. He's not even pretending that he's not ogling him, at this point, fingers skirting up under the edge of his shirt and scratching at the v of his hips. It sends a full body shiver straight through him, and Satoru slaps his hand away. 

"Aren't you drunk?" 

"Tipsy, maybe," Suguru shrugs, relaxed. "I had, like, three drinks, and I weigh a ton more than you. You can text Nanami about it if you want to check, before." 

"Before?" Satoru blinks, feeling like he's stepped out of his own body for a moment, like someone is looking down on them both and laughing: you could have had this the whole time! You're both idiots! 

"Before–” he stumbles over his own words, like he’d expected Satoru to just keep up, “you don't wanna fuck me?”

Satoru's heart jumps right into his throat. This time, it's his turn to stutter. He watches Suguru for any chance of a joke, or him saying sike! But it doesn't come. Instead, he finds Suguru, beneath him, a stupid smug smile plastered onto his face, self-assured, like he knows. Which he probably does. 

Satoru nods, not trusting his voice to not do something stupid. He's thought about it. Had him on his back, writhing and groaning, fists gripping in the sheets,  but that wasn't for him, not really. This is. He knows it is. 

Still, as he pulls Suguru up off the couch- because they are not fucking on there, thank you very much - he blinks. "Is that not impractical?" 

Suguru laughs, "maybe. Maybe not, though." 

Satoru squints, thinks what the fuck , and pulls Suguru forward another few steps. "What?" 

As they step into the bedroom, Suguru slips his shirt off entirely, exposing the long planes of his back. Satoru's mouth goes dry as he moves forward, driven by something outside of himself, to touch the ridges of his spine, the muscle and fat of his shoulders. His stomach is softer than it was before, his figure fuller. Satoru loves it. He turns him - there's no need to talk with someone this good looking in front of him, after all - and pushes him towards the bed, hands focused on undoing his belt buckle. Suguru laughs into his mouth. "Eager." 

Satoru doesn't even have it in him to deny it. "Yeah, shit day at the office. You should make it better." 

Suguru's knees hit the mattress, and they both topple forward, but Satoru ends up half off the bed, hands still working frantically as Suguru relaxes, legs spread wide. It's always a little like this, but Satoru feels insane with it, this time, the way he looks, the way he breathes, the way he wants it. It makes him feel like a dog chasing a bone, frantic and unsure of how to get to it. 

Satoru finally manages to get the belt undone, pulling at the material and stepping back to make way. When the stupid slacks are finally out of the way, he ends up on the carpet, cheek pressed to Suguru's knee, palming at him, heavy. He thinks about letting it happen like the times before, letting Suguru use him, just a little. Anything works as a distraction if you try hard enough. 

Suguru strokes through Satoru's hair, pulling lightly at the ends. "You should take your shirt off for me. Seeing you like that- it seems unfair, doesn't it?" 

Satoru huffs, crawling up, pushing Suguru back. He likes the fight for it, in the end, and he gets what he wants, with Suguru's hands immediately coming up to pull of his shirt himself. Having his hands on him is a relief, bone deep, like the ocean washing over him on a warm summer's day. It's like a breath of fresh air. He doesn't pay attention to where the shirt goes - probably on the floor somewhere, crumpled and ruined for another wear, but he can't bring himself to care. 

Suguru pushes back, flipping them so he's straddling him. It's strategic, Satoru thinks, the way he holds himself so he can't get any damn friction whatsoever, no matter how hard he tries. Suguru's fingers skirt below his waistband, right where he's sensitive on his stomach. Ticklish, other guys have called it. He's not thinking about them now, though. 

"Where did you learn how to do this." Satoru gasps out, breathless, as Suguru pulls the material from his legs, exposing them to the cold air. 

Suguru laughs. "You don't want to know, Satoru. You’ll complain about it." 

"Sue me for being curious," Satoru's mouth is running off without his permission, again. "I only ever saw you with girls," 

Suguru finally hooks a finger under his boxers and pulls them away, leaving Satoru exposed to the hotel lighting and the man who is the love of his life, probably. He stretches his hands up to the headboard, grabbing there. It's both for his own stability and to show off the way he knows his chest flexes when he arches his back. Suguru gets a hand on him almost immediately, just his spit in the palm, and Satoru jumps under it, shutting his eyes. 

"You're not so different from a girl anyway," Satoru hears him say, and he forces himself to wrench his eyes open to look. He needs to stare at it. God knows he didn't appreciate it enough before. 

"I have a dick, asshole," Satoru hisses, as Suguru twists his wrist and uses his thumb in the way he knows Satoru goes crazy for. It feels too good for a moment, and he kicks out, hitting the edge of Suguru's knee. "That's pretty different to a girl," 

Suguru doesn't say anything, leaning down and taking the skin in between Satoru's neck and his collarbone between his teeth, sucking. It feels good, and the hand that was working Satoru into a frenzy comes up to smear spit onto his stomach, pushing down there, holding pressure and pressing his hips to the bed. 

His mouth drops lower, much to Satoru's relief, working over his chest and then dropping further, biting at his nipple. Satoru arches into the sudden shock of it, only to find he can't really go anywhere with Suguru's hand holding his stomach down. He whines, involuntarily. "See, just like a girl," Suguru grins, reaching up to wipe the sides of his mouth, "you're so sensitive in all the same places." 

Satoru huffs, indignant, and presses his hands up onto Suguru's shoulders, flipping them with only a small amount of struggle as Suguru tries to get his hands back on him. But he's not having it now: he's had enough of it. 

"And you were offering for me to fuck you," he says, outside of his own body, "not very ladylike of me to do that, huh?" He tugs at Suguru's waistband, pulls it down, tossing the boxers god-knows-where. It doesn't matter anyway: the world has shrunk down to just this bed, just this man. 

Satoru gets a hand around him. It's gratifying, the way he hisses and leaks a little, the veins in his hands popping out as he grips the sheets, eyes wide open and staring. Satoru, feeling particularly evil, dips his head down, sucking lightly. Sue him: he's feeling it now. 

Suguru breathes heavy above him, and soon - far too soon, in Satoru's opinion - he gets pulled off unceremoniously, with a tug to the hair at the base of his scalp. He looks up, and he knows he looks good, spit smeared across his face and hair rumpled. He knows. So he looks up, through his eyelashes, and licks at the side of his mouth. Suguru swears. 

"You're too good at that," 

"I don't think you can be too good at head," Satoru tries, moving his fingers down, only to find silicone. Suguru swears again as Satoru pushes it in, watches the way his body writhes. For him. 

“All night?” 

“You needed a consolation after that race,” Suguru grins, lazy again, “so naturally. Only at the party,” 

Satoru tugs again, jaw slack. It’s insane. He’s going insane. “I don’t need consolation from you,”

“Call it my prize, then,” Suguru says, rolling his tongue along the front of his top teeth, “for a great strategy today,” 

“You’re not a strategist,” 

Suguru sighs, dragging Satoru up the bed by his hair. He goes willingly. His body is starting to feel like jelly, just a little. “No, I’m everything,” he says. And he means it– he means it in the career sense. In the Team Principal of the sport’s most successful team sense. But-

“Stop it,” Suguru says, grinning, “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” 

“What am I thinking?” Satoru says. He means for it to come out teasing, instead it feels breathless, taut, tugged thin. “Go on,” 

Suguru pushes him up, tipping him back over and kissing him again. Harder, this time, a little more heated. Their chests stick together, and the warmth is all-encompassing.

Satoru, feeling very, very pleased with himself, reaches to stroke at the insides of Suguru's thighs, grabbing there, pulling. Eventually he makes his way up, thumb and forefinger tugging softly. Suguru still hisses with it, having to break the kiss. 

"Y'know, I'm probably bigger than this,"

"Your ego," Suguru huffs, "is insatiable. I can still take you," 

He’s reaching across to the nightstand, picking up a condom and unwrapping it with deft hands. It’s rolled on swiftly. 

"Yeah?" Satoru grins, pulling harder, pulling the plug all the way out. There’s a lube bottle thrown at his chest, and he pops the cap, drenching his fingers in it. "You like the stretch?" 

Suguru grits his teeth and leans down, bracing himself right over Satoru's chest. Satoru gets his fingers inside him, feels it, how much he wants, how much they both want. He lets out a whine, even though he's not the one being touched. 

Suguru grins, leaning back and reaching blindly for him, grinning and rolling his shoulders. Satoru watches the movement of it all, the way the column of his neck is exposed-

Suguru sits down in one swift movement, and Satoru does not buck his hips as a reaction, he swears. His hands fly to Suguru's hips, though, bracing himself as Suguru leans back against his thighs. 

"You were saying?"

"You did that on purpose," Satoru hisses, still squinting his eyes shut. It's ridiculous, how gone he is. How fucked he is, if people find out. He's never been subtle. "God,"

Suguru is still smiling, even though his chest is rising and falling with considerable effort. He tugs Satoru upwards toward him, lifting his back off the bed. Satoru thinks that he's about to be kissed, but instead teeth go to the flesh near his shoulder. "I know." 

Satoru tries to find a reply that will make him seem-- in control. Anything. But then Suguru moves and he- everything leaves his brain apart from chasing the pleasure of having Suguru on top of him. 

"Suguru," 

"Mm." He moves again, finding a rhythm again, and Satoru tries to keep as still as possible, so this isn't over embarrassingly quickly. He's doing it on purpose, Satoru knows. 

"Suguru, God," he is not in control of what he's saying- "you're the only person that's made it like this," 

"Like what?" 

"So good. So-- it's so good with you," 

"I'm your only challenger, huh?" Suguru’s eyes are half-lidded, and his voice is hazy, now. Satoru nods, whining as Suguru rolls his hips, flexing his thighs. “C’mon, Satoru, look at me,” 

His eyes open like a whip, air sucked into his lungs all at once. He reaches up to grasp at Suguru’s hips, pulling him back down. A moan escapes from what sounds like deep in Suguru’s chest, and Satoru sits up so he can tug at his hair. “Yeah, you’re the only one, is that what you wanna hear?” 

“Uh-huh,” Suguru replies, “you make it so good, Satoru,” 

It’s all over a bit too quickly, after that. 

 

—-

 

EUROKART WORLD CHAMPIONSHIPS 2016 - FINAL RESULTS 

POS	DRIVER	NATIONALITY
1	Maki ZENIN	GBR
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU	ITA
3	Megumi FUSHIGURO	FRA
4	Yuuji ITADORI	JPN

 

—

 

Gojo, amid JTR dominance, opens up on the pressure, ex-teammate and future talent - INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT, G1TV

 

Q: Welcome, Gojo, how are you? Of course, you’re leading the championship right now. 

GOJO: Good. It’s expected of me, now, to lead the team, but I’m still enjoying it. 

Q: You now have three world drivers’ championships, and you’re expected to win your fourth this season. How does it feel to be a multiple world champion? Any moments, any race wins that stick out to you over the course of them?

GOJO: It feels surreal. Moments— I think the first win in Singapore. Brazil, where I got the first world championship. Then– Abu Dhabi 2014, too, I think.

Q: Abu Dhabi? That’s a strange one, you lost your championship against Getou there. 

GOJO: Well, you did say moments that stick out, not necessarily positive! [laughs] But yeah, I don’t know. There’s– he’s my best friend, you know? Seeing someone you– someone you know so well win everything they’ve worked for. He deserved it, he’d come back at me big time over the summer break and he had been deserving of a championship since his rookie season, really. 

Q: You speak highly of him, despite saying you don’t talk anymore. 

GOJO: Yeah. He deserves to be spoken about that way. He’s in Japan, I think, now, and he’s earned the retirement, so. I think his confidence took a massive hit in the last couple seasons. 

Q: Confidence, confidence. You’re quite a confident driver, aren’t you, compared to others? Coming back into the car after that accident in Silverstone can’t have been easy.

GOJO: Crashes are part of the sport, you always have to just get back in the cockpit. I always knew I was capable of it, and to have the accolades– it just matches the picture of me within the sport in my head, you know? I’ve been given the car to do it, so. I did it. You have to be confident in this sport, or else you lose your way pretty quickly. You gotta have an ego. 

Q: Do you think a lack of confidence has affected you, over the years? 

GOJO: Maybe before I got my first win. But then– it wasn’t my problem, it was politics, so much was going on, there. 

Q: With Sengoku, or Fushiguro? 

GOJO: Both. 

Q: Fushiguro’s termination, that was a shock to everyone on the outside, even on the outskirts of the grid. I know you’ve already been asked your thoughts on it, but do you have any insight on why that happened the way it did?

GOJO: Not particularly. He’s better off out of the grid, anyway. 

Q: Because of the crash through Copse last year? 

GOJO: Amongst others. He was a dirty driver at the best of times. I think I speak for the whole grid when I say that it’s a lot easier without him here. 

Q: Speaking of Fushiguro, you’ve been supporting his son, Megumi, in karts this year. He came third in the world championships as one of the youngest competitors. Why him? 

GOJO: He’s stupidly talented, and just a genuinely really good kid all round. He asked for support, since his dad’s left the country, and I’m giving it. It would be a shame to see someone so talented slip through the cracks. 

Q: Is there anyone else you have your eye on? There’s plenty of talent in the junior ranks right now. 

GOJO: I assume you’re talking about the Zenin girls? Yeah, those two are both talented. It looks like they want to promote Mai more, which is a shame, because Maki is the one I was watching. Then in G4 there’s Okkotsu, and Itadori who started really late and has been incredibly competitive despite the lack of experience. So a lot of interesting prospects coming up. 

Q: Speaking of interesting prospects, you have a new teammate now, in the form of Nanami Kento. How is he measuring up, within the team, do you think, now he’s got a year in JTR under his belt? 

GOJO: [laughs] I’ve answered this question a million times, it feels like. Uh- good. He’s a reliable driver, who makes very little mistakes and I’ve known him almost– I’ve known him a long time. We get along well. 

Q: JTR seems to be a very different environment since Getou left, more consistent in terms of delivery. 

GOJO: Ah. I guess. Racing with Getou was– he always pushed me right to the limits. You make more mistakes on the limit, that’s just how it works. And he knew that, he knew he needed to push me to that place, and I did the same. We both wanted to win, and we were both operating on a very similar, very high level. There’s a performance gap, with me and Nanami, and it allows for less tension. But when I was out, Nanami picked up the pieces, he’s a brilliant driver and a reliable number two.  

Q: Numbers. 

GOJO: [laughs] Yes?

Q: You’ve taken the number one this season, as the reigning world champion, which you didn’t after your championships in 2012 and 2013. What changed there, for you to take the number one? 

GOJO: It’s embarrassing, really. Getou’s number matched mine, so I kept it, y’know? And now he’s- he’s not my team mate anymore. So. I get to use the number one, not feel guilty about it. 

Q: Another change this season: you’ve got a new race engineer for 2016, with Yaga’s promotion to Team Principal, and it’s Shoko Ieiri, who used to be Getou’s engineer, interestingly, for 2014. Is that something you were apprehensive about? You had a good relationship with Yaga. 

GOJO: I had to beg for her to come back. We were friends, the three of us, she’s incredibly talented, and she knows me really well. She was my first choice when Yaga left, and she’s doing a great job for me. 

Q: She’s very, very young, your age, which had drawn criticism even when she was Getou’s engineer in 2014. Is that inexperience what caused friction between them in the late 2014 season? 

GOJO: I guess- somewhat? But late 2014, particularly after Japan was just not great for the whole team. She doesn’t have the same level of involvement on the car development as Yaga, for instance, she works very very closely with the other performance engineers to get her experience, but her data analysis is second-to-none, and her communication is incredible. 

Q: So is that most important to you, communication? 

GOJO: It is in every race engineer. But yes. 

Q: JTR are looking so, so dominant right now. Are you expecting that to continue? 

GOJO: I suppose, yes. Nothing lasts forever, but the team we’ve built is nothing short of incredible and I look forward to working with them every single week. 

Q: Thank you, Gojo. 

 

—

 

Me: can you make sure yuuji gets a funded seat somewhere? If he doesn’t then I’ll find the money for him

 

Yuki ICE: Gojo’s already clocked onto the kid, you know. U two r the same

Yuki ICE: think he’ll probably do another year in karts

 

Me: right okay

[UNSENT] Me: we are not the same 

 

—

 

Satoru: I dunno if ur still in jpn

Satoru: im so mad at u but if u come back to europe ill giv u paddock tix

Satoru: jus wanna kno ur ok yk

 

[UNSENT] Me: sorry

[UNSENT] Me: its just a lot to see you doing so well

[UNSENT] Me: its just that i feel like it might have been my fau

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

There’s a single day to breathe when they land in Abu Dhabi. Gojo feels like he’s been dragged through a large body of water and then put in a tumble dryer. He yawns as they step out onto the tarmac. Megumi’s hair is sticking up all over the place, and he still has a neck pillow on as Toto sniffles around his flight. He yawns, eyes still half-closed. Yaga comes up behind them, clapping Megumi on the shoulders. He jumps forward, and Satoru suppresses a giggle at it. 

“Come on, let’s get going, hotel and rest and reset.” 

He strides off into the distance, and Megumi sends a look to Satoru, “how is he even awake?” 

“You get used to it,” Shoko chirps, linking her elbow with Satoru’s and dragging him forward a few steps. He leans some of his weight onto her. It’s nice. 

Megumi looks at the both of them. “I hope so.” 

“You gonna miss me?” Satoru grins, teasing. He expects an immediate pushback, but Megumi is clearly too tired to be anything much but sincere. 

“As if you’re not going to come to half the races anyway,” Megumi says, sleep still sticking in his throat, “you’re basically going to be a wag.” 

Shoko laughs, high and bright, as Satoru’s jaw drops. “A wag,” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow in a high arch. “Am I wrong?” 

Shoko lets go of his arm to laugh harder. 

 

—

 

G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP 2016 - FINAL RESULTS

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	413
2	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	345
3	Nanami KENTO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	340

—

 

[UNSENT] Me: congrats on the champio

[UNSENT] Me: fourth world championship, congratu

[UNSENT] Me: god what the he

 

—

 

NANAMI KENTO TO RENEW WITH JUJUTSU TECHNICAL RACING ON A TWO-YEAR RENEWAL - Official Press Release

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

The last race of the season means that they all end up taking a photo on the grid together. One for the history books, Satoru supposes: his last photo on the grid. His first was 2007: an age ago now. 

He pulls his race suit over one of the team t-shirts, wiggling his shoulders around to find the spot where it fits sweetly, or as close as it can, when he’s not sitting in the cockpit. He spots Utahime and Nanami talking, and goes to stand between them, looping his arms over the two. Neither of them push him off, which is a great start. 

“Gojo,” Nanami huffs, “any occasion?” 

“Nah, just reminiscing,” Satoru sighs, and even Utahime finds it in her to smile at that. All three of them jump as a loud laugh sounds from across the tarmac, where Yuuji has his head tipped back laughing, and Nobara is clutching onto his arm for dear life, with her hand pressed over her mouth. Megumi has his arms folded, smug, expression pulled into a close-lipped smile. 

Satoru’s first thought is that Megumi is not that funny, Yuuji, come on, and then–

“That’s the next generation,” Satoru blurts, still with his arms around Utahime and Nanami, “they’re replacing us.” 

“You think they’ll all be world champions?” Utahime frowns, “they’re so similar,” 

"Maybe not all three of them," Satoru thinks out loud. "But definitely Yuuji. Definitely Megs." 

"You're biassed," Nanami finally shrugs him off, but he's sort of smiling too: a rare occurrence. 

"You're not disagreeing!" Satoru grins, "come on." 

"Megumi will definitely have one," Utahime says, then. "He's too similar to Gojo to not. I mean--" she gestures, "look. Look at him." 

Megumi has folded his arms and is stepping away from where Yuuji is trying to grab him again, but he's smiling. 

"Yuuji is, too, to be fair," Nanami says, looking at them. "Anyway-- we're all still here next year," 

"You two are," Satoru huffs, "but not for long," 

Utahime laughs, a shocked offended thing, and folds her arms. "Nice way to call us old, hey?" 

Satoru shrugs. They are old. They're all in their thirties. Most drivers don't make it this far. "They're still-- I mean. The grid's getting younger, isn't it? I thought this day wouldn't ever come." 

They all stand in silence for a moment. Nanami takes a deep sigh, and laughs. "So, Utahime, who's your money on for this championship?" 

Satoru throws his hands up and down his body, gesturing wildly at himself, and Utahime pretends to consider. "Yuuji, obviously." 

Satoru pushes her sideways, and she laughs, as they turn to hear the social media guys start to shout about them getting into position. Utahime walks to her seat, on Gojo's left, one seat away. "Nah, I'm joking, mostly. I think you have it, Gojo. If it all goes the way I think it's going to." She smiles, soft. "You're my friend, still, I want to see you win." 

Satoru sits in his chair, noticing rather belatedly that it's at the centre of the whole photo. "Thanks, Utahime." 

"Don't mention it." She replies, and Satoru knows that it's real, that she means it. Megumi sits down next to him, adjusting his cap. The action is fairly fruitless: he still has strands sticking out of the edges, unruly at the base of his neck. 

"Your last race as a rookie," he nudges him, grinning. 

Megumi's face does something weird. His nose wrinkles; disgust at it being mentioned at all, maybe. Then his lips twitch into half a smile before he schools it into something that would be more neutral if it weren't for the crease in his eyebrows. "Your last race," he says. "Ever." 

"Well. I'll do something else, probably," Satoru hums, "Le Mans, if I can get a good teammate." 

"Would you- with me?" 

"Depends how old I am, yeah?" 

Megumi snorts, "we're both too heavy," 

"Yeah." Satoru says, "yeah, probably." 

"Do the five-hundred," 

“Triple crown,” Satoru nods, very sincerely. “Nice thinking, Megs,” 

There’s a pause. There’s so much chatter around them, here. 

“You will come to races next year, right?” Megumi says, swallowing. He’s scratching over his knuckles, and Satoru taps there: on the back of his hand, to get him to stop.

“Yeah. Definitely the European leg,” Satoru says, “you gonna miss me?” 

“Yeah, I think so,” Megumi says, quietly. “You’ve been on the grid for so long, y’know?” 

“I know.” 

There’s a distant shout of okay, smile! and their conversation gets interrupted. Satoru turns towards all the cameras, smiling widely, and somewhere within the crowd of photographers and press, Haibara shouts, “get the sunglasses off!” 

Satoru obliges, to laughter. He smiles wider. Someone shouts that that’s perfect, thanks guys, and everyone shuffles to their feet, different drivers circling around him until– oh. 

“Happy last race,” Haibara is saying, holding out a tray bake. It has loopy writing in navy all over it, gold accents: team colours. He looks up, to find Haibara grinning, “from all of us, we’re gonna miss you.” 

Behind him, Getou’s moving around, rolling his sleeves up his elbows. Satoru lets himself get distracted as he looks back down at the cake to hide that he may or may not be tearing up, just a little, and then it comes flying up towards his face. He tries to step out of the way, but Suguru’s hand comes to the back of his neck, strong and holding him in place, and the cake smushes all over his face. 

Satoru splutters, as everyone laughs, including Haibara and Yuuji in front of him, who must have combined their efforts to lift the cake up. Suguru is laughing next to him, and Satoru grabs a fistful of the tray bake and launches it at him, then turns his attention to Yuuji, who’s already turning tail as Gojo grabs the tray off Haibara. “No!” Yuuji squeals, as Satoru sprints after him. 

“This is the consequences of your actions!” 

“There are no consequences to my actions!” Yuuji laughs, right as he half-barrels into Megumi, who holds him in place as Satoru throws the tray bake at them both. 

 

—

 

G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP 2017: FINAL RESULTS

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	388
2	Nanami KENTO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	322
3	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	305

—

 

Yuki ICE: Hey, this is completely out of left field, but a friend of mine has seen your management of the karting team in Japan and asked if you want to try out being a TP to Keicho’s G3 team. A massive step up, I know, but they’re desperate, and I said I’d ask. 

 

[UNSENT] Me: what 

[UNSENT] Me: I can’t

 

Me: Where is it based? 

 

Yuki ICE: Mugello, mostly. With Keicho, familiar faces to help you out. 

Yuki ICE: like I said, I just said I’d ask. No worries if you don’t think you can handle it

 

Me: What’s the start date? 

 

—

 

NEW FOR 2018: HALO introduction to all Grade Racing categories, including G1, WILL go ahead as part of a push for safer sport

Written by Josh Kitchener, 4th January 2018

“The HALO is controversial, but necessary. And it will save lives” - Suguru Getou comments on uproar about the mandatory HALO addition to G1 

 

—

 

Satoru: u can give a whole interview and take a job at a junior team and come back to europe and all this shit and you still can’t fuckin rpely 2 me

Satoru: you’re an asshole and u have ur read receipts on ur not slick

 

—

 

UNTOUCHABLE: GOJO TAKES RECORD SIXTH WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP IN 2018, EQUALLING HIM WITH RYOMEN SUKUNA / G1 News

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Towards the end of the night, there’s a soft knock on his drivers’ room door. Satoru’s running late, really, he should’ve gone already. But still, he opens it, and finds Suguru, standing with his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to track walk with me?” 

“I’ve already walked the track,” Satoru says, caught off-guard. 

“You don’t want tips?” Suguru grins, and that’s all it takes before they’re on their feet, heading out of the motorhome. They’re definitely not meant to be on the track at this time, and there’s only a smattering of personnel left, and no one stops them as they weave through onto the track. Someone will probably get a photo of them. Satoru can’t bring himself to care enough, bumping shoulders with Suguru as they head down the tarmac, away from the noise. 

“I dunno what ideas you have, but we’re in Abu Dhabi.” Satoru grins, and Suguru groans. 

“I’m aware,” 

“Look, the line, here, it has more grip,” Satoru grins, miming the way he’ll turn the steering wheel. Suguru reaches up and grabs his wrist, pulling it down. They’re mostly out of sight, now. 

“Everything kicks off tomorrow, huh?” Satoru says. There’s so much tension. 

“I apologised to Shoko.” Suguru says, head tipped down. “And I– I really would like to poach her as an engineer, but– it was for me, mostly. I missed her. And I said shit I didn’t mean. About her before. So I needed to tell you.” 

“Okay,”

“Okay. Also, even if you win on Sunday, I’m not-” he huffs out a breath, like saying it is painful. “We’ll be fine.” 

Satoru grins. “D’you want me to win so I can be your wag?” 

“Wag?” Suguru scoffs, “God, Satoru. No. I want you to win and I want you to lose, more than anything.” 

“So like old times?” 

Suguru goes to agree. Satoru can tell by how his eyebrows raise and the way his top lip twitches. Then something changes. “Nah, not like old times, really, huh?” 

“Yeah, this is better.” Satoru agrees. “Would you sign me. As a driver, I mean.” 

“Yes. Of course I would. Your value in any team is immense.” Suguru laughs, “why? Wanted me to stroke your ego, Mr. Six Eyes?” 

“Ah, of course,” Satoru scoffs, “I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

“So you’re offering?” 

“No.” 

“Shame.” Then- “Keicho has a hypercar,” 

“You’re already going for a triple crown?” Suguru bumps shoulders with him. It’s pretty much the extent of what they’re allowed to do without being arrested. 

“You need three drivers, for Le Mans,” 

“I’m too heavy to be your teammate.” 

Satoru sighs. He knew that. “Well, let me dream.” 

“Maybe that can be Shoko’s endeavour,” Suguru says, “she’d be good, I think.” 

The footfalls on the track echo, almost, with how alone they are. Satoru swallows. “I’m. It’s just us, right? You’re not- no one else?” 

Suguru laughs. “No, there’s no one else, Satoru. Come on, you knew that.” He did and he didn’t. He shrugs and Suguru pulls him close with an arm around his shoulders. “It’s always been you,” 

“Yeah.” Satoru says, largely inelegantly, “you too. Me too.” 

 

—

 

WINNER TAKE ALL: The final showdown between Itadori and Gojo is here, and with it, the start of a new era for G1 / G1 News

Written by Josh Kitchener, 18th November 2022

 

Over the summer break, Gojo managed to do what many considered unthinkable for him just a few years ago, securing a lead of seventy points over his closest rival in the drivers’ championship, and despite being mathematically not over, the foregone conclusion was that Gojo had secured his seventh, and record breaking, world championship should nothing unthinkable happen. 

Yuuji Itadori crashed out in Spa, to start off the second half of his 2022 campaign. He was crumbling under pressure, it seemed: the lack of experience showing. Then he got to Zandvoort, and did the unthinkable: three wins in a row. Then a second place in Singapore, and another win at his home race in Suzuka, and at COTA, with a phenomenal last-lap pass on Gojo to take home the honours. 

Gojo fought back in Mexico, extending the gap to just over twenty points, with two races to go. Itadori remained a heavy underdog, even when poor qualifying strategy from JTR put Gojo well out of place in Sao Paulo. But contact between Zenin and Gojo in the last stint has provided a golden opportunity: Gojo and Itadori are equal on points, something that hasn’t happened since Sukuna and Kenjaku’s days as teammates. 

The last time a gap of points bigger than forty was crossed after summer break was by Getou in 2014, to win against Gojo, too. 

 

  [ID: A picture of Gojo in the garage, surrounded by team personnel, mouth set in a line, after Brazil qualification.] 

 

The two are very different drivers, with Gojo being the favourite given the experience he has under this level of pressure. But Yuuji has shown an incredible run of form, and his status as an underdog in the title fight has only fuelled him. 

 

[ID: A photo from the podium in Monza 2022, with Yuuji grinning, holding the champagne bottle, surrounded by confetti]

 

But for both, this single race will define their careers, and Gojo’s legacy as he plans to leave the sport for good. And the anticipation is deadly. 

 

—

Notes:

thank you to the incredible lulu for working on the two pieces for me :3 !!!! wanted to do something special for the last couple of chapters and she delivered :3

anyways. decider next chapter. hopefully silverstone makes me insane enough to burn thru chp24. im so close to the end... crazy. love u guys. i cant wait to be free tbh

Chapter 24: xxiv - winner take all

Summary:

The essence of everything, really.

Notes:

oh god. the big one. the grand finale. thank you to everyone whos supported me and made this the journey its been. enjoy the last chapter. love you all.

(note: please do not rec this fic in F1 spaces, or rec alongside any rpf. it is not rpf in any way. do not send f1 fans to my door !! thank you)

Thursday Press Conference - 2019 Australian Grand Prix, Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Iori UTAHIME (Scuderia Keicho), Lucien MAHITO (Sengoku Racing), and Mei MEI (Haein) – hosted by Yu Haibara

 

Q: Welcome all, to the first Grand Prix of the new season. It’s super hot and sunny out today, shall we start with you, Utahime? How was your winter break? 

Iori UTAHIME: Ah, it’s been good. A lot of time spent in the sim, we’ve made a lot of progress through the winter. 

Q: It certainly showed in pre-season testing. You looked remarkably strong, and certainly very close in pace to the JTR. Do you think you have the car to take the title challenge to them this season, after so many seasons of falling short? 

IU: Well. I like keeping my cards close to my chest, really. I think a lot of the uncertainty is on the other side, and on their car. They’ve been so far away these past few seasons, and Gojo definitely has the ability to outperform the car, so we won’t know until the end of the season, really. But I’m quietly confident. 

Q: Gojo, moving onto you. You seem to lack a little pace, so far, in testing, compared to this time last year. Is there a reason for that, or is it the team hitting somewhat of a development ceiling? 

Satoru GOJO: [sighs] Uh. Well, the new regulations regarding the weight ballasts haven’t helped. We’ve had to redesign huge parts of the car, and I’m sure everyone is in the same boat,and the change was necessary– I mean. I’m six-foot-three, I was skipping meals, but. It’s hit us hard I think. 

Q: Do you think that Keicho will challenge you for the title this year?

SG: Ha. No, but it’s early. Anything could happen. 

 

—

 

SATORU GOJO WRITTEN PRESS CONFERENCE TRANSCRIPT - PRE-RACE SPANISH GP 2019

 

Q (LAWERENCE SMITH – G1 NEWS): Gojo, you said earlier in the season that the reason for your woes was the regulation change surrounding weight ballasts, is that still what’s giving you the issues with pace that you’re experiencing at this stage? Would you support the eighty kilo rule being reversed and do you still think that it’s creating an issue for the engineering of these cars?

SG: What? I said– I didn’t say any of that. No, I don’t think the rule should be reversed, in Australia I said it was necessary, and that I myself had been skipping meals to attempt to be as light as possible. The eighty kilo rule is one of the best things the higher ups have done for years. We’ve had an issue with our car design this year, the rule is unrelated. 

Q (Josh Kitchener – The independent motor magazine): Gojo, your old teammate has taken over the running of Keicho’s junior team in G3. He’s been incredibly successful, with their drivers P1, P3 and P5 in the standings. Any thoughts on this, and on his return to affiliation with Keicho?

SG: He was always going to go back to them, I think. But he’s level headed, of course he’s gonna do a good job, and he’s an asset for any team. 

Q: If you don’t mind answering a second question for me, there’s a lot of rookie talent in the feeder series right now. Who do you have your eye on? 

SG: Okkotsu. He’s leading G2 right now, and he’s under Keicho. Basically a done deal for Nara for 2020. Then if you look a bit further down, there’s Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki in the GREC, oh–! And Yuuji Itadori. All three of them are displaying enough talent to go all the way to G1. 

 

—

 

STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TEN - G1 Drivers’ Championship 2019

 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	223
2	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	184
3	Noaya ZENIN	Scuderia Keicho	136
4	Lucien MAHITO	Sengoku Racing	123

—

 

[UNSENT] Me: thank you

[UNSENT]Me: I don’t really kno

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Satoru hasn’t had a title fight go down to the last race for a while. His last championship in 2018 was wrapped up and won with about five or six rounds left to go, and before that the last time it went to the last round was 2014. 

He hasn't been completely out of the fight since then: he's man enough to admit he's a better driver than Utahime, and despite their reliability issues and their overall kind of awful performance in that set of regulations, he'd taken her until midway through the season at least for both of her titles, and outperformed the car by miles. He's not out of practice, is what he's trying to say: it never really leaves you, once it's there. 

But, regardless. He's not been in a title decider for eight years. It's a different type of pressure, even it's familiar to him like an old pair of gloves, or the race suits that he used to wear, tight around the shoulders, but not limiting. 

What is slightly unfamiliar, though: the press. 

Gojo has never really minded them. They're doing the same thing as everyone else here: a job, and something they need to do to feed their families, or themselves, or just to live. It's part of all professional sport now: if there are fans, there's interest, and the journalists take the information straight from the source and deliver it to them. And from then on, they're fighting for clicks like the drivers fight for wins. 

But what's changed between 2014 and now is that the press is altogether much more insatiable. There's more questions, more attention, more fans, more money. And Satoru knows this: he's acquainted with it, he knows he's built himself a brand. 

But this is the first time it's descending on him like this. Can you win, are you still worthy, are you capable of beating your own prodigy? 

Are you, Satoru Gojo, Gojo Satoru, untouchable, are you the greatest of all time? 

Gojo's answer to that is yes. He is. He can be. If you look at the numbers, he's won more, he's been just as dominant across a season, he holds every record in the book save the championship numbers. He's gotten lucky with his team. But that was his decision: a leap of faith that everyone told him was going to backfire at the time. 

Him and Yuuji are sat next to each other in the pre-race press conference. It's only one in the afternoon, and already, Yuuji looks ruffled. His hair isn't as neat as it usually is, and as he sits, he blows air out through his nose. 

Quiet, away from the microphones, Satoru turns to him. Head facing away so his lips can't be read. "You okay?"

"I want to get in the car," Yuuji replies, quick and biting, "I wanna stop answering questions." When Satoru doesn't reply, he huffs, "well. Yeah, I'm okay, I'm-- yeah. Of course I am." 

"I'll back you up if they ask something stupid, yeah?" Satoru says, right as Nanami plops down on the couch on Yuuji's other side, "we both will." 

Nanami frowns. "I'll what?" 

"Back me up if they ask something stupid." Yuuji grins, a bit more relaxed now. Satoru distantly wonders if maybe instead of this he should be trying to wind Yuuji up, try to make the pressure unbearable. But he wants to race him at his best, he wants a fight. 

"Oh, they're going to ask something stupid," Nanami says, a half-smile on his face, "it's a title decider. But I'll back you up, if you need. Although I don't think you do, Yuuji." 

He cuffs Yuuji's shoulder, wobbling him back and forth a little. Yuuji grins. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Haibara trails in, holding his microphone and his cards. He greets them all one by one with handshakes and grins, shaking Yuuji's extra hard. "I have a bet on you, y'know, so off the record you really need to win," 

Satoru snorts out a laugh, "you really have that little faith in me?" 

“I can’t decide, so I went with whoever was gonna pay out the best,” Haibara says. He’d definitely get in trouble for this conversation if anyone who was properly important overheard them, but they’re alone here, in a little bubble, far enough away from the sea of journalists that nothing will happen. Nanami shakes his head as Haibara looks at him, grinning. 

“Like you need money,” Yuuji says, and Nanami scoffs again. 

“You don’t wanna know how much he’s put on it,” 

Throwing his hands up in a I won’t ask motion, Yuuji adds, “who are we waiting for, anyway?” 

“Uh, Mai and Miwa, I think, so. Sorry, you two are going to be answering most of the questions,” Haibara half shrugs, pointing with his shoulder at the incredibly crowded room behind them. The higher ups knew what they were doing, putting Yuuji and Satoru in the same presser. Satoru can’t exactly blame them. 

Miwa bursts in through the door, stuttering out apologies and excuses as she sits down next to Nanami, followed shortly by Mai, who’s slurping on her water bottle and still looking at her phone before handing it over to her assistant, sitting on the furthest end of the couch and crossing her legs like they have all the time in the world to be waiting for her. 

“Shall we get started, then?” Haibara says, clearing his throat and looking pointedly at Mai, who shrugs. 

“Right. Gojo, I’ll start with you,” 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT, THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE ABU DHABI GP 2022 - Satoru GOJO (Jujutsu Technical Racing), Yuuji ITADORI (Scuderia Keicho), Nanami KENTO (Sengoku Racing), and Mai ZENIN (Meiji)

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (LILA SMITH - NextRace.com): For Miwa, Mai and Nanami, just a quick one, who do you think will win this world championship, Gojo or Yuuji? 

MIWA KASUMI: Uh, gosh– Gojo. 

MAI ZENIN: I think this is the only question I’ve been asked all week. [laughs] Uh, I’d probably go with Gojo. 

NANAMI KENTO: Right now, I’d go with Gojo, but I think it’s going to be very, very close. 

 

—

 

Where have JTR lost out? And will they lose Gojo as a result? - Opinion Pieces / G1 News

Written by Anya Gillies, 10th September 2019

 

For the first time since 2014, someone other than Jujutsu Technical Racing’s Satoru Gojo leads the standings in the second half of the season. His run of four consecutive world championships looks all but set to come to an end this year, and it’s not because of driver performance. So where did the team go wrong? 

 

[ID; An image of Gojo facing away from the camera, pulling his earpiece out with one hand and holding his helmet in the other. He has his shoulders slumped, walking along the tarmac past all the grid personnel, who are paying him little mind.]

 

Iori Utahime now leads the standings for Keicho, set to bring home their first championship since Yuki Tsukumo won for them back in 2011. It will make them the first team in the sport’s history to have back-to-back female champions, and it will be Iori’s first championship after paying her dues in a slightly slower car for the last decade. 

 

[ID: Utahime on the podium at the 2019 Belgian GP. She’s alone, holding the champagne high in the air and her other fist is aloft, too, as she grins, hair drenched from the champagne. The sun is bright, and reflects from the bottle.]

 

But Gojo has given her a fight. He’s taken wins that he shouldn’t have, statistically, and whilst he has still yet to win Monaco, he took Silverstone by five tenths of a second at the line, and Hungary, when Utahime suffered a puncture. Gojo is still there, despite driving a much slower car that his teammate has only managed to put in P4 the entire season. 

 

The reliability issues are a big factor. In the early season, he suffered a DNF from the lead at Baku, then a DNF from P2 in Canada, both of which Utahime won, strengthening her lead. At Gojo’s own admission the season has been difficult, so, this begs the question: will he leave for greener pastures? His contract is up for renewal at the end of 2020, and any team on the grid would have him, including Keicho, who are shaping up to be dominant throughout this era of regulations…( READ MORE)

 

—

 

Me: A lot of articles saying Gojo will go to Keicho

 

Yuki ICE: Ask him urself

 

Me: Don’t think he’d appreciate that

[UNSENT] Me: As if he’d ever leave JTR anyw

[UNSENT] Me: He’d rather die than leave Yaga and Sho

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Satoru had made the decision in his head to stop seeing Suguru over the last race weekend. It was for his own sanity, really. So he doesn't look at him and think about all the possibilites of winning and losing and everything inbetween and throw himself off a bridge or veer the car straight into a barrier when he gets into it on Friday afternoon. 

Unfortunately two things exist as fact. One: Satoru had neglected to mention this thought to Suguru, and two: they are still somewhat coworkers, who cross paths absolutely more than they need to. 

So when he sees Suguru waiting outside for the Team Principals' conference, he isn't surprised. Nor is he surprised when Suguru looks right past him to Yuuji, who strides over and immediately gets wrapped up in a one-armed hug, where Suguru half-ruffles the hair at the back of his head. Yuuji laughs, and replies to whatever Suguru said in Italian. 

"Hello," Suguru smiles, "long time no see," 

It isn't, but nobody else knows that, and Satoru isn't planning on telling them. He wants-- it might be selfish, but he wants this to himself. Suguru to himself. As much as possible, when both of them are public figures. 

"Hey," Satoru replies, "you okay?" 

Suguru laughs, soft, as Yuuji steps out from under his arm, looking between the two of them, "yeah. I suspect I'm only going to be answering questions about you, like old times." 

Like old times. Satoru's stomach flips at the implication: at how intertwined their careers have been and how intertwined they'll continue to be. It's stupid. He wishes both of them could have had everything for themselves, but that's not the way it'll pan out. Not the way it has panned out. 

"Sorry," Satoru says, having the good sense to at least be a little sheepish about it. It's not exactly his fault, but sometimes it feels like he could've still prevented it by doing-- something. Anything. 

Suguru's eyes crinkle as the assistant begins to call the principals in, and it's only then that Satoru looks up to see Yaga watching them, standing at a distance talking to Meiji's team principal. His arms are folded, but Satoru isn't scared. Not of him. Maybe about being known, found out, but not of him. 

"See you later," Suguru taps Satoru in the place where his back dips, two fingers in a beat over the fabric of his T-shirt, "after the race, knowing you." 

Satoru smiles, nodding, "yeah. See you after the race," 

Yuuji kind of side steps away, still quiet, and as Satoru begins to walk away, being clapped on the shoulder by Yaga as he does, Yuuji keeps staring. 

They get halfway back to the paddock before it gets slightly disconcerting. "What, Yuuji?" 

"Uh--" Yuuji stutters rather elegantly, starting a sentence in three languages before settling on Italian. "You two hated each other so much." 

"And now we don't." 

"Now you don't," Yuuji agrees. "Are me– am I like that? With Gumi?" 

Satoru pointedly does not pay attention to the nickname. "Why're you asking?" 

"Just- it's nice, that's all," Yuuji hesitates, swallowing, "it's nice that you've raced and you've argued and you still came- you still came round to meet each other, you know?" 

Satoru stutter-steps, almost tripping over his own feet. Sometimes he forgets that Yuuji actually does have a level of emotional intelligence that allows him to make these freakish observations despite not really knowing what's going on in his own head half the time. It's insane, is what it is, especially when it hits you in the face like it has now. "God, that's-" Satoru swallows, "listen, I wouldn't recommend it," 

Yuuji wrinkles his nose, “well, I’m not saying I want it.” He sounds like a petulant child refusing his least favourite type of candy, but still unsure about it. “But it’s weird, good, y’know?” 

Satoru isn’t sure if he’d use good as a descriptor for him and Suguru. It feels too shallow. But he understands what Yuuji means, in a way, so he’ll allow it to sit between them. “Okay, okay,” he loops an arm over Yuuji and grins, looking down at him, “you gonna let me win so we can have our happy ending then?” 

Yuuji looks up at him and shoves him, hard. “In your dreams!” 

 

—

 

Satoru stretches out his legs on the bed and groans, a bit loud, a bit overdramatic. Shoko scoffs from the edge of the room where she’s still slipping off her shoes. 

"What?" She says, looking up to watch him, and he just- allows himself to look, for a moment. She's pretty. He's allowed to think that, think about how they've grown up together and fit together and worked together this whole time. 

"Are you-" he sits up. This is the kind of conversation that requires sitting up. "Are you going to come back to grade one, after you're finished studying?" 

"Depends, doesn't it, on who wants me." Shoko says, soft. She makes her way over to the bed, sitting down on it. She crosses her legs, tucking her hands under her ankles. "Suguru would probably hire me, if he's still doing well, or Yaga. I don't know." 

Satoru hums, and looks at her again. "You don't have to," 

"I just-" she frowns. "I do enjoy it. Even if I hadn't met you two, or if I had the talent for driving, I probably would have still done this, in the end, I'm too good at it not to, but-- it was for you. For both of you. And I've never- I've never done it without you." 

Satoru chews on the inside of his cheek. "I'm sorry-" 

"No. Don't be stupid," Shoko says, "come on, don't be stupid, I've done it for you 'cause I love you, Satoru," 

"But you just said-" 

"No, not like that," she huffs, "I don't know how to do this without you. Racing, I mean. You're what kept me coming back, and I love this sport but without you- we're losing something." 

"I'm. That's-" 

Shoko sighs, and crawls up the bed, hands and knees until she collapses by Satoru's side, "yeah, it's a lot, isn't it?" 

"Uh huh." Satoru hums, pulling her closer by instinct, "I love you too, I hope you know that." 

She nods, with her head on his chest, hair tickling at the skin around his neck. "I do." 

He squeezes her shoulder. "Good. I mean- I hoped this was enough-" 

She thwacks him on his shoulder, and he fakes a cry of pain. She rolls her eyes. "Okay, what're we watching?" 

He can't explain it to anyone else without someone suggesting they should get married (which, for the record, would be a terrible idea for everyone), but Shoko calms him. She has for a while: the way she takes none of his bullshit, but still stays, level and even and dependable. They have a similar outlook, is the thing. He feels her twist in his arm. The contact is welcome, grounding. 

"I dunno," Satoru says, unbearably honest, "I don't watch much, you pick." 

Shoko picks a show, without complaining, something with music and sweetness poring out of its every pore. Satoru ends up entranced even through the subtitles, and it takes his mind off the media shitshow and Suguru and Yuuji, makes the world stop spinning around this one race. For the first time in two weeks, the world is just this room: him and Shoko, alone together. And they'll be alone together in the car come tomorrow, too. Full circle. 

His phone vibrates on the table next to him, and he makes the mistake of turning it over, to reveal a string of texts from Suguru that have broken the do not disturb barriers on his phone. He blinks at it for a few moments, then puts it back down. Shoko, ever perceptive, notices, and nods towards where his hand is retreating towards the bed. "Have you fought again?" 

"Who?" 

"You and Suguru," she says, turning back to the screen so she doesn't miss much of the show. 

"No, I’m just not talking to him until after Sunday,” Satoru says, clicking his neck from side to side, “after the race is done,” 

“Was that his idea? Or yours?” Shoko seems sceptical, and Satoru really can’t blame her. They’ve spent the better part of a decade in shambles. 

“Mutual,” Satoru mumbles. It kind of had been: Suguru just knew him well enough to go with it and know. Which is something that he’ll never be able to replace. He used to be scared of that thought, and now he’s content with it. He doesn’t need to replace it. He has it. For as long as he wants, as long as he needs. 

Shoko looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow, “sure,” 

“It was!” 

“Okay, Satoru,” Shoko grins. Then she softens, almost imperceptibly. Sometimes Satoru forgets how long they’ve known each other, and then it hits him all at once. “Y’know, my mom definitely wanted us to get together,” 

Satoru wishes he hadn’t known that. The pushes they got to sit together and go to dinner and take care of each other had been a bit awkward after a while. But he’d never been interested, and neither had Shoko, so. It was never going to pan out. “Yeah.” 

She bites her bottom lip. "I dunno. It's weird to think that if we were different people, maybe. If you weren't so hung up on him." 

"I'm gay, Shoko," 

"I know, asshole," she glares at him, "don't be obtuse, you know what I mean." 

Satoru does know what she means. They still love each other now. Maybe it would have been easier, but it doesn't mean he could have bought himself to do it. She's not-- she's not his, and he wouldn't want her to be. That's the long and short of it, at the end of it all. 

"Yeah, I do," Satoru says, "I'm sorry about your mom," 

"Ah, she had a point. Wouldn't exactly be working if I was your wife, right?" 

"I don't want that." He doesn’t want someone whose identity is being his. It’s never worked, never will. 

"I know, Satoru," she sighs, "sometimes you take things so literally." 

Satoru snorts air out through his nose, and squeezes at her. She hums under her breath. "Are we still gonna see each other?"

"I hope so," Shoko replies, "if you do what Suguru did I'm coming to where you are and killing you in your sleep." 

"Noted," Satoru huffs, "wanna order room service when this episode ends?" 

Shoko nods, already up and reaching for the phone. 

 

—

 

FINAL RESULTS - G1 DRIVERS’ CHAMPIONSHIP 2019 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	397
2	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	328
3	Noaya ZENIN	Scuderia Keicho	313
4	Lucien MAHITO	Sengoku Racing	289
5	Nanami KENTO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	267

—

 

RUMOUR: GOJO TO LEAVE JTR, UNHAPPY IN TEAM

 

Should JTR replace Kento to take back the Constructors’?

 

Jujutsu Technical Racing is on the verge of losing its star, and they have to act / Opinion Pieces

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT - Thursday Press Conference, Australian GP 2020 – Satoru GOJO (JTR), Noaya ZENIN (Scuderia Keicho), Mei MEI (Haein) & Yuuta OKKOTSU (Nara), hosted by Yu Haibara 

 

Q: Welcome back after the winter, everyone, Yuuta, I’ll start with you, first race in G1 after winning G2 last season. How does it feel? 

YUUTA OKKOTSU: Good. I’m definitely excited to be here, and it feels pretty surreal right now. It’s exciting, and I can’t wait to properly get to work with the team. 

Q: So, you’re driving for Nara, but you were a part of the Keicho development program, and they still very much back you for going to that team for the future. Are you focussed on that, too? 

YO: Ah, not particularly. Keicho has two very strong drivers right now and I’m still a rookie. If my performances impress, of course, but I still have to impress my current team, too. 

Q: To you, Gojo, then. How was the winter break? 

SATORU GOJO: Good. Lots of work in the sim, lots of training, resting a bit. Normal stuff, really. 

Q: How are you feeling about the car development this year? Obviously, you’re driving back with your number thirty-seven for the first time since 2015, is that bringing a different mindset to this season? 

SG: I think my mindset will always be the same: to bring the best I can to every weekend. Whether you feel amazing about the car or if there’s a lack of optimism about the performance– it’s all the same, when you’re out there driving. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT - G1TV - SUPPORT RACE INTERVIEWS, Australian GP 2020 - Hosted by Momo Nishimiya

 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Oh, there he is– I didn’t think we’d manage to catch you! 

SUGURU GETOU [Team Principal, Keicho Junior G3]: Hello, Momo. I was hoping to avoid you.

[They both laugh]

MN: Well, a really good performance from both of your drivers today, taking pole and P4 for the feature. Reverse grid for the sprint, obviously, but this bodes well for the rest of the weekend. 

SG: Of course. We have a mix this year, one more experienced driver and one rookie so to have this level of performance from them both so early means that their development is going well, better than expected maybe. Hasaba taking that P4 on her G3 debut definitely bodes well. 

MN: She is an exciting talent for the future. There’s only one other rookie in the top five, and that’s the Jujutsu-backed Megumi Fushiguro, who qualified P2. 

SG: Yes, he’s a brilliant young talent coming through, and he’s surprisingly quite a clean racer, when you look at where he came from. 

MN: You mean his father? 

SG: Oh God, no. I actually meant Gojo [laughs].

MN: Speaking of Gojo. It’s not strictly related, but–

SG: Here we go. 

MN: Well, there’s been a lot of rumours about a potential move for Gojo at the end of this season to Keicho, given his contract is up. Any insight? 

SG: [laughs] I think you’re asking if I’ve heard anything, which I haven’t. I’m not particularly involved with the driver contracts in G1. But in my opinion Gojo won’t leave JTR. He’s offered them loyalty for a long time, and I don’t think he’s the type to jump ship just because things aren’t a hundred percent. 

MN: That’s interesting. 

SG: He’s a bit like me, really. I think we’re both the type of people to want to build up with things. 

MN: Well, lets get back on topic then, because you’ve definitely built something brilliant here with the junior team. Since you’ve come in, they’ve won the team championship for the last three years running. 

SG: I think I got a bit lucky in my first year with Yuuta [Okkotsu, now driving for G1 Nara] because he really was such a talent, and has gone on to do exactly what I expected. Then last year we had two drivers who were brilliant also, Olly was P4 as a rookie and now we’ve retained him for this year. My job is easy, in the grand scheme of things, which is to make sure the car is as reliable and consistent as possible, and develop the engineering skills and the pitstops. 

MN: Well, I think we need to let you go, but thanks for talking with us. 

SG: My pleasure. 

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Satoru hates sitting on the pitwall. It's torture. 

To put a rookie in it, the team has peeled off his number and put the kid's on. It's weird, watching what he knows is his car go around the circuit without him in it. It's also weird listening in on the conversations he's having with Shoko, and watching her poised, doing her job, legs crossed over each other and palms facing down. She swallows, speaks into her mic again. Satoru just watches. 

He's got the monitors to keep him entertained, at least. But he's still going slightly stir crazy. Logically, he knows that the data from free practice on this track isn't particularly useful. It's why they elected to run their rookie requirement here, and not anywhere else. 

Satoru wishes they'd done it literally anywhere else. He's watching Yuuji rack up the lap counter, doing long runs, and whilst he has about a decade's extra experience on this track than he does, it still makes him nervous. Yas Marina is a temporary track. The surface feels different every year. 

Yuuji comes down the pit straight again, a flash of red. Satoru's gaze follows him, and Shoko glances at him, smiling the most she can when she's still listening to the kid in his car. He's been tuning most of their conversation out, so far, but he picks up this: "watch for Itadori behind on a hot lap, just approaching sector two now," 

Satoru looks at the red dot speeding down the graphic towards the blue dot of his car, out on track without him in it. 

 

—

 

FP2 is fine, he guesses. He almost slips right off at turn five and he has to correct a pretty big snap of understeer through his representative soft runs, but that's good. It means there's more to come, more to give. He ends the session in P3, behind Megumi and Yuuta, and Yuuji ends just behind him, in P4. But if Satoru's learnt one thing from all his years of racing, it's not over until it's over. 

 

—

 

GOJO RENEWS FOR JTR, DESPITE PERFORMANCE SLUMP & OPEN SEAT AT KEICHO / G1 NEWS

Published 4th September 2020

 

VIEW COMMENTS: 

 

3773fan: Gotta be a mistake, right? 

> kirkywood: honestly, why would he go to Keicho when it looks like that TP is retiring soon? That performance isn’t lasting. JTR are poised to get back on top with the new regs. 

 

Satorugojofans: his loyalty should never be questioned again

 

Annieholden: but gojo and keicho together would have been incredible :(

 

—

 

BREAKING: YUUTA OKKOTSU TO DRIVE FOR SCUDERIA KEICHO IN G1

Written by Josh Kitchener, 7th September 2020

 

After an impressive weekend in Monza, Scuderia Keicho have announced they have signed Yuuta Okkotsu to Scuderia Keicho for the 2021 season, replacing Noaya Zenin… (READ MORE)

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Satoru, for the fourth time in what feels like a minute, pulls down his cap over his eyes to avoid the piercing gazes of everyone as he walks through the garage to Shoko, settling on her left, closest to the insides. He risks a glance at Megumi, who is exactly the same, standing dutifully by Kamo's side, hunched over as Toto pants beside him. 

Shoko nudges his shoulder. "You okay?" 

Satoru nods. He is. He's good, even. "Yeah. We can do this with our eyes shut," 

"Let's not go that far," Shoko says, but she's grinning. "But it's good you're feeling confident." 

You have to feel confident, or else awful things happen. Like Japan and Monaco and Abu Dhabi and- 

Satoru doesn't let his brain continue down that line of thought. He looks at the telemetry. "I'm gonna go back and warm up." 

Shoko nods. "Last quali session, then we're done." 

Last one." Satoru replies, looking at the garage, taking it in. It will never feel like this again. This will never be his again. It'll be Megumi's, Nobara's, whoever steps up to the plate. But for now- "one last race," 

"Go." Shoko says, looking down at her watch, "I'll see you back here in half an hour, okay?" 

"Okay," Satoru says, and goes, because that's what he has to do. 

 

—

 

RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - Q3 SESSION ABU DHABI GP 2022

IERI: That’s provisional pole, we have to wait, but it’s looking good. 

GOJO: Thank God, oh **** that was intense. 

IERI: All three sectors purple, Gojo. You just wait, just wait. 

[pause]

IERI: Megs across the line, he’s 1:24:0, provisional P2, we’ve still got Yuuta and Yuuji out on track. 

GOJO: Copy-

IERI: Okkotsu 1:24:1, Yuuji set a purple sector two. 

[pause]

IERI: Gojo, you’re P1, Yuuji had a major correction in sector three. 

GOJO: Yes, come on. 

 

ITADORI: Sorry guys. I pushed too hard. 

TODO: It’s okay, you did your best. 

 

—

 

Satoru's done it. For real, he's done it. P1. The last time he'll go out on a track and feel like he's flying, and it's over, but at least it's good. At least he's going out on a high note. 

He climbs out of the cockpit, releasing his seatbelt with fumbling hands, and balancing on the halo, almost tripping right back into the seat as he does. Wouldn't that be a great way to end everything? Falling out of the car? Huh? 

He raises his hands to the sky. He can't see very much through his visors apart from the team in front of him, screaming their praise from the barriers. Satoru jumps down, runs to them, lets them hold him. Lets Yaga pull him towards him and grab at the back of his helmet, wobbling him from side to side, "you did it, kid, half the job," 

He remembers asking Shoko where Yuuji was, he remembers the crackled reply of P5 . Anything could happen tomorrow, he reminds himself, anything at all, but this is it: half the job done, half the fight put aside for the race. 

He turns, flipping his visor up, and sees Suguru, slow clapping in parc ferme, here to congratulate Yuuta, really. Still, Satoru goes to him, clasping his hand, getting reeled in. “Good job,” Suguru grits out, “you’ve made it difficult for us,” 

“He’s done that to himself,” Satoru can’t resist teasing, “come on Suguru-” 

He gets cut off by a hefty thwack to the back of his helmet. 

 

—

 

Post-Qualifying Interview, Yuuji Itadori - Abu Dhabi GP 2022 

 

Q: Not the best final run out there, but your driving was phenomenal. On that final run, you were two thousandths off Gojo in the first sector, and gained a tenth on him in the second. Are you thinking about what could’ve been? 

YUUJI ITADORI: No. I couldn’t have held that together, I was pushing way over the limit and made two pretty big mistakes in the third sector. I can stand here and like, say I could’ve gotten pole, but ultimately I didn’t, and now I’ve got to get my head down for tomorrow. 

Q: So, tomorrow. You’re starting in P5, Gojo on pole. Yas Marina is a circuit where, in the past, overtaking has proven difficult. Do you think the championship is still all to play for? 

YI: I wouldn’t still be here if it wasn’t. 

 

—

 

FINAL STANDINGS - G1 CHAMPIONSHIP 2020 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	396
2	Noaya ZENIN	Scuderia Keicho	357
3	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	322

 

—

 

FEEDER SERIES: What’s happening in 2021, explained / Feeder Series News

Written by Anya McNamara, 18th December 2020

 

With the final seat movements confirmed for the 2021 season, the lineups for G3 and G2 have now been fully confirmed. 

Jujutsu Tech’s Megumi Fushiguro will, as planned, after winning his rookie G3 campaign, step up to G2 for the 2021 season, alongside the second-place finisher Nobara Kugisaki, who will race with the Meiji feeder team in 2021. 

After winning G2 in his rookie season, Sengoku-backed Yuuji Itadori will make the step up to G1 at 19, racing for Sengoku alongside Inumaki…(READ MORE)

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

The trophy sits at the centre of it all. Satoru, at this point, shouldn’t be surprised at the level of showmanship. It’s the last race. It’s the title decider. And yet: 

He’s never been asked to stand opposite the trophy before a race. Not when it went to the wire with Yuki, and not when Suguru managed to claw himself back into the title fight after the summer break. 

But he supposes that this time, they’re equal on points, and this time, it’s a changing of the guard. Satoru walks himself through the crowds, side-stepping past all the camera crews, trying to avoid the celebrities pawing at him, and pulling his cap further down over his eyes to hide from the glare of the lights. Night races are sometimes harder, with how bright they are, with all the fluorescent lights beaming down onto the track. 

He squeezes past Utahime and Nanami, stood next to Nobara in the lineup for the anthems, and takes his spot opposite the trophy, looking as his feet cover the little white spot for him to stand on. 

There's an insane amount of photographers there. Yuuji is across from him, eyes wide open and mouth split into a close-lipped smile. 

Satoru looks at the trophy. He's held it before. He knows the weight of it: every ridge, every curve, every undulation of the metal. He's thrown it into the air, clutched it to his chest, drank champagne from it, pointed as photographers and journalists drank in the sight of him with it. At one point it had felt like he would never let it go, that it would always come home with him, that it would always be his, until he decided to quit altogether. 

Then the car had fallen out from underneath him, and he’d gone back to the garage after races with his tail between his legs as Utahime stepped into his place with all the grace and beauty of someone who was always meant to win a world championship. She’d worked hard, all that time. She deserved it, he told the press. All whilst thinking: if I had that car– 

Yuuji's never even touched the trophy. He doesn't know what it's like to hold it, or to embrace the feeling of winning. And yet he's across from Satoru, looking up at him, shoulders squared, smile set, eyes sparkling. 

Satoru's been asked so many times if there's any qualities he looks for in a racer. He's given a million different answers over the years, and honestly, none of them stick. He's never lied, really: you have to be fast, and dedicated, and completely unafraid of every limit you set for yourself. But there's one thing that all of the young drivers he's picked from a crowd have in common. 

They're all just a little bit insane. And Satoru means that as a compliment, truly, because the way that Yuuji stares at him from opposite the trophy, with a gaze full of hunger is a little bit crazy. Not crazy in the way Megumi got in the final few races of G2, focussed and angry and spiky to the touch, but just– excited for the thing that will make or break him. Not shying away from it: hungry for it, for the title, for the glory, to be in Satoru's shoes, without fully understanding the reasons he wants that so badly. He wonders, briefly, if Yuuji will eclipse him. He's so young, and it's entirely possible with all the years he has left ahead of him in the sport. But. 

Gojo was all alone, at the end. Once Suguru left, there wasn’t any real competition, and he burned hollow with every win, knowing it was his until the car exploded or he made a mistake. Yuuji isn’t. There’s Megumi in the JTR, Nobara too, Yuuta alongside him in his own team. He’s sure of one thing: by next year, Yuuji will be a world champion. And he’s equally sure that he will never have the run of championships that Gojo had, because he’ll have to fight for every single one. 

Looking at him now, Satoru thinks that Yuuji wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

—

 

GET TO KNOW YUUJI ITADORI! Everything you need to know about G1’s newest rookie / G1 News / Interview Transcripts 

Hosted by Yu Haibara, broadcasted to G1TV 8th February 2021 

 

Q: Yuuji! Good to finally sit down with you! 

YUUJI ITADORI: I’ve been so excited! It’s good to meet you, Haibara. 

Q: Ah, don’t flatter me. Shall we start with introductions? 

YI: Okay. Hi, I’m Yuuji Itadori, I’m nineteen, and I am a Japanese G1 racing driver for Sengoku Racing. 

Q: How did you get into racing? You started late for a G1 driver, your first competitions were at thirteen. 

YI: Yeah, I’d been doing hire karts since I was little. I grew up watching, like, the Jujutsu Tech era on TV with my grandpa. Well. When I started watching it was like, Yuki was winning, but I was always rooting for Getou and Gojo. I really liked watching them. But we didn’t have any money to start karting properly until I was around thirteen. 

Q: I was going to ask - who is your biggest idol in G1? 

YI: In G1 right now, probably Gojo. All time would be Sukuna, or Getou’s like, a really close second. 

Q: Getou over Gojo? That’s a controversial opinion. 

YI: I guess. I just remember, um. Watching the Japanese Grand Prix in– when was he in G2, 2009? 

Q: Yeah, I think so. 

YI: And I went with my Grandpa. And my dad had died like, a year ago, and my grandad was taking care of me and money wasn’t great. I didn’t really know who he was at the time apart from that he was driving with Keicho, but the atmosphere was incredible, and he– I remember it being said that he lost his dad like, the same week and he’d struggled to get sponsorship despite being really close to Gojo who already had the G1 seat and everything, and- yeah. If he could do it, I could, you know?

Q: Oh. Wow. 

YI: Sorry. 

Q: No, it’s just- obviously I knew him, so I’m thinking back to the way he was, and– huh. Okay. We’re gonna move on.

YI: [laughs] To something lighter?

Q: To something lighter, yes. What do you like to do, outside of racing?

YI: Uh. Not much. I like video games a lot, and I stream them sometimes. With Megumi and Nobara, they were my teammates in G4 and they’re my friends, so. Oh, and Junpei, he’s a sim racer, we all do that sometimes. It sounds cliche but I really like the training we do, I try to mix it up and I do like, rock climbing and swimming and tennis sometimes. It’s super fun. 

Q: Do you do those things with the other drivers, too? 

YI: I beat Megumi at tennis regularly! 

Q: Favourite food? 

YI: Pizza. 

Q: [laughs] That was quick! 

YI: I’m not allowed it very often! It’s always on my mind. 

Q: What are you most excited for, racing in G1? 

YI: The speed. Driving in a G1 car is like– it’s so good. 

Q: And what’s your goal for the season? 

YI: I’d like a win. 

Q: Even in the Sengoku? 

YI: Gojo won in a Sengoku. 

Q: And what’s your biggest goal. For your whole career? 

YI: To be a world champion. [laughs] Come on, you had to see that one coming! 

Q: Y’know, I definitely did. 

 

—

 

STANDINGS AFTER ROUND SIX - G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP 2021

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Yuuta OKKOTSU	Scuderia Keicho	95
2	Satoru GOJO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	79
3	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	74
4	Nanami KENTO	Jujutsu Technical Racing	68

—

 

BREAKING: Keicho Team Principal and Iori Utahime to step down from the team at the end of the 2021 season / G1 News

Written by Josh Kitchener, 15th August 2021

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

When the anthems are over, Satoru immediately steps away. Or he at least tries to, because he runs straight into Yuki with her camera crew on the startline. Because of course, it couldn't be anyone else in the comms box today, could it? 

"Gojo," she purrs, "a moment to talk?" 

Satoru shakes his head, pushing his sunglasses down his nose and adjusting his cap again, "nah, you understand that I have to go, though, right?" 

He doesn't turn back to look at her, carrying on weaving through all the team personnel swarming around the cars. They pay him no mind: to them, he's just another driver, just another possibility in a sea of them. He likes being that to people. He likes being just another driver, without all the expectations that come with it. 

He shouldn't be surprised that Suguru is here. And yet he still is, as he turns to look at him, arms folded across his chest, looking him up and down. "You okay?" Satoru says, grinning, doing the same back. His shirt is tight across his arms, a distraction. 

"Yes, of course," Suguru says back. They gravitate toward each other: it can't be helped. To everyone watching, it's a small moment between old friends, rivals, teammates. Suguru cuffs Satoru around the back of his neck, holding him in place just for a moment. "If Yuuji wins, will you get a tattoo?"

"Like the old bet?" Satoru laughs, "sure," 

"My number. Opposite hip." Suguru says. 

"Would've gotten it anyway, to match," Satoru grins. They speak quietly, voices tucked away beneath the din of the grid. It’s intimate, strangely. 

"But it's more fun this way, isn't it?" Suguru breathes right into his ear, then lets him go, "go on, Satoru," 

Satoru doesn't look back at him, either. He goes, further up the grid, up to the P1 spot, and gets handed his helmet, his earpieces. Shoko is waiting for him. "What was that all about?" She says, eyebrow raised. 

"Just making a bet." 

"Of course he is." She huffs, doing up the top of his race suit and smoothing over the velcro. Her hands glance along the skin of his neck. "Don't regret it please," 

"I won't." 

"And don't let him get in your head," she adds on. 

"He isn't," Satoru grins, and for the first time in almost a decade, the statement rings true. He pulls the balaclava on, and smooths his hair out underneath it. Shoko shifts from foot to foot, still holding his helmet. Satoru sighs. “Put that down.” 

“What?” 

“Put it down.” 

She does, carefully, on the nose of the car. As soon as she turns around, Satoru grabs her arm, pulling her into a hug, and squeezing her tight. She squeaks, but relaxes into it, and her arms wrap around his shoulders. Satoru presses his forehead to the crown of her hair. “Thank you,” 

“It’s okay,” Shoko mumbles back, “I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.” 

She pulls back and looks up at him, before she snaps her gaze away and grabs his helmet, shoving it into his hands. “God, don’t make me cry, okay?” 

“I won’t.” He grins, “go. I love you,” 

“Love you too,” she says, already walking off. They’re probably running late. Satoru pulls the helmet over his head, lifting his chin to do up the strap. When he turns, he sees Megumi already in the cockpit, with Yaga leaning over the halo, giving him some last words of advice. Satoru is the last one still out of his car, actually, when he looks down the stretch of tarmac, visor flipped up. He steps back to take it in one last time. The buzz of the grid. The smell of petrol. Everything, all at once. 

Yaga comes over just as he lowers himself into the cockpit, getting strapped in by one of the remaining mechanics. He dips his head below the Halo, smiling in the way he does. “You have this, Gojo.” 

Satoru nods. There’s not a lot he can say that’ll be heard through his helmet and the revving of engines. “And I’m happy for you,” he grins, “even if I wouldn’t have chosen him in a million years.” 

“Thanks,” Satoru says. He feels unequipped for this, mostly. For a life after. Yaga goes. The tyre blankets come off. He presses his foot to the throttle. 

“Radio check?” 

“Loud and clear,” Satoru replies, weaving on the way to his box, trying to keep the tyres warm. Megumi starts alongside him. Behind him is Yuuta. This is it: what it all boils down to. 

“Watch the lights,” Shoko says, “let’s get it,” 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT, ABU DHABI GP 2022

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: So they’re off on their formation lap, slowly but surely, round the circuit

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Any thoughts on who’s going to win today, Yuki? 

YT: Ah, no, I feel like I shouldn’t speak. Commentators’ curse. 

MN: Usually you’re a chatterbox! 

YT: Nope, not this time! 

MN: So, Itadori starting P5. Is there much he can do from there? 

YT: Well, he’s out of place. He’s got Nanami in front, who’s in a much slower car, and then his teammate, who will likely let him past with very little resistance, so the only two cars he really needs to clear are the two Jujutsus at the front. Megumi has said he’s playing the team game today and he’s going to do all he can to help Gojo out, so we’ll see how far that defence can go. 

MN: I know we’ve not seen the most of it this season, but those two racing each other is always incredible to watch. They match each other incredibly.

YT: That’ll be a treat to watch next year for sure. So, now, Gojo rounding the final corner of his out lap, and he’ll just want to back the rest of the grid up a little, trying to keep as much heat in his tyres as possible.  

MN: He knows pole position well. And I think this will be his last one, for one last time, Satoru Gojo will start from the front of the grid as the last few drivers get to their boxes now. 

YT: The lights come on- the engines roar and for the last time in 2022, the lights are out and we’re racing! 

MN: Gojo and Fushiguro both got away well– and Okkotsu behind–

YT: Kento didn’t have the best of starts but neither did Itadori, so it’s Gojo leading Fushiguro from Okkotsu from Kento from Itadori. 

MN: Oh! Kugisaki’s made up places as we go towards the first corner, and the leaders make their way through cleanly! 

 

—

 

RESULTS - BAHRAIN GP 2021 

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Iori UTAHIME	Scuderia Keicho	25
2	Yuuta OKKOTSU	Scuderia Keicho	18
3	Yuuji ITADORI	Sengoku Racing	15

—

 

JUJUTSU TECH IS IN TROUBLE - WILL THE NEW REGULATIONS EVEN SAVE THEM? – Opinion Pieces 

Written by Emily Horden, 30th March 2021

 

For the first time since 2012, the organisation has been questioned en masse after a start to the season where their drivers could only manage P5 and P7. Perhaps, for too long, their strategy has relied on not the speed of the car, but of their prodigies, and now that light is dying, they have nowhere else to go… (READ MORE)

 

—

 

ITADORI PODIUMS IN MAIDEN G1 START AND KEICHO SECURES A 1-2 TO START THE SEASON - G1 BAHRAIN ROUNDUP 

 

—

 

Me: I told them to sign that kid. 

 

Yuki ICE: hahahahah yeah you did. No idea why they didn’t tbh, Gojo rated him highly as a junior too and he’s got like a 100% success rate on shit like that

 

Me: and now he’s stuck with sengoku

 

Yuki ICE: Well. He’s only got one year on that contract. 

 

Me: yuki. 

 

—

 

Who will be the next team principal of Scuderia Keicho? – A look at all the potential candidates

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates 

 

“Okay, gap to Fushiguro behind is eight-point-one, how many more laps can you do at this pace?” Shoko’s voice crackles through his earpiece, and Satoru huffs, taking turn one and getting back on the throttle. 

“Uh. Maybe two? Three?” Satoru hits the chicane at turns five and six, “the tyres are starting to drop off.” 

“Copy, box end of this lap,” Shoko says, “then we go to the end. We think Yuuji behind is trying to go long in this stint because he has a new set of softs.” 

Satoru hadn’t been aware of that until right this very second. “Okay, copy, what’s the gap behind,” 

“Gap about thirty seconds, you will come out still ahead,” Shoko says, “he is P5, behind Okkotsu and Kento, you will come out just behind Okkotsu and ahead of Itadori.”

Satoru does the math in his head. “Copy,” 

He comes into the pitlane. His last pitstop in G1, the last time he puts all his trust in his crew for those crucial seconds. He comes to a stop in the box and the medium tyres go on, and he’s away again. 

“Thanks guys,” he grins into his helmet as he sees Yuuji in his rearview mirrors. 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - ABU DHABI GP 2022, Lap 

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: It’s slipping away from Yuuji a little bit now, he’s right behind Gojo but his lap times are starting to fall down and his teammate has pitted now, giving Gojo the benefit of clean air in front, as they tell Fushiguro to pit- OH! 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: Oh my God, that’s a massive shunt, that’s a Keicho, is that-! 

YT: That’s Yuuta Okkotsu in the barriers at turn three. That’s going to be a safety car- it is a safety car-

MN: That’s a red flag. That’s a red flag, because of damage to the barriers, they’ll have to be repaired. 

YT: Oh my god. Right as I was saying this race was over for Itadori, this might have changed everything. He’ll be able to change his tyres and he’ll be right behind Gojo on the restart. 

MN: That’s a red flag on lap forty three of fifty five. The race is back on! 

 

—

 

RUMOUR: Getou to potentially return to the G1 paddock as a Keicho’s team principal

Written by Katy Jones, 25th May 2021

 

—

 

Yuki ICE: what are you thinking

 

Me: the contract shit is all over the news sites. How do they even know I’ve had meetings? They’re nuts

 

Yuki ICE: you’d have Okkotsu. 

 

Me: Am I ready? 

 

Yuki ICE: you’ll never be ready. 

 

Me: Thanks for the vote of confidence! 

 

Yuki ICE: If you don’t try you’ll never know. You’re inheriting a successful operation, you’ll be fine. It was a much harder job turning those junior teams around

 

Me: I’ll have to buy a house in Italy, instead of renting

 

Yuki ICE: go home

 

—

 

Itadori “still unsure” on where he’s driving next year after sensational start to rookie season - “I’ve had interest from other teams, my mind isn’t made up yet” 

Written by Josh Kitchener, 30th July 2021

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

“What’s the restart order?” 

Shoko breathes out through her nose. “Megumi P1, you’re P2,” she grits her teeth, “Yuuji’s P3,” 

“And he’s on new softs.” 

She nods, jaw tight. They don’t have a new set of softs. He has no fucking clue how Yuuji managed to save a set: probably the byproduct of a botched quali strategy. 

“What’re our options, here?” 

They also don’t have another set of new mediums. They pitted him two laps ago for them, and now they’re just slightly scrubbed: a disadvantage getting off the line. The softs they do have are scrubbed too: they’ll die quicker than Yuuji’s, leaving him vulnerable in the last few laps when he has better grip. He cycles through every option in his mind: whichever way he looks at it, he’s at a disadvantage, even with Yuuji starting behind him. He’d built up a twenty second gap, and now it’s nothing. Neutralised by a crash. 

Megumi walks over then, pulling his earphones down over his neck. Kamo is right behind him, looking stressed. Like he’s been pulling his hair. Satoru doesn’t think he’s ever seen the man display an emotion: it’s jarring. 

“What even happened to him?” Megumi squeaks, eyes wide, “was there contact or something?” 

“Suspension failure, lost control of the car,” Shoko says, “Jesus. Could we maybe have a little luck?” 

Satoru huffs out a breath. Megumi swallows, “do I- what do I do? I’m going to hold you up.” 

Kamo grits his teeth, “we let him past and back Yuuji up. We play the team game.” 

“Are we– are we allowed to do that? Race control won’t throw a fit, right?” Megumi says, looking between Satoru and Shoko. 

“All’s fair in love and war,” Shoko grins back, “so you’re gonna have to do your best, okay?” 

Megumi nods, as the image of them talking goes up on the screens. Satoru turns to look. His own expression is reflected back to him, delayed by five seconds. 

They can do this. They can hold on for eleven laps. That’s all they have to do. 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT - 2022 ABU DHABI GP COMMENTARY, LAP 44 RESTART

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: So, if you’re just joining us, you’re in for a real treat for the finale. The restart order has been confirmed as follows, P1 Fushiguro, P2 Gojo, P3 Itadori, P4 Kento, P5 Kugisaki, P6 Inumaki, P7 Zenin, P8 Utahime, P9 Kasumi, P10 Mei. 

MOMO NISHIMIYA: That fight at the front… Yuuji has the advantage. He has a brand new set of soft tyres on that Keicho, ready to go. Fushiguro on brand new mediums, Gojo on a set of scrubbed mediums- are they the same set he pitted for two laps ago?

YT: I believe so. There really was no better option for him, and I think the hope is that the softs on Yuuji’s car will drop off in the final stages of this stint. 

MN: Here we go, cars setting off on their formation lap. Of course, only fuelled for the race distance of fifty-five laps, so when we get going again, there will be ten laps of racing action to decide both titles in 2022.

YT: That failure means that it’s incredibly likely that if both cars finish, JTR will have a fair shot at the constructors’ title too, that’s how quickly things can change. 

MN: Here we go. Fushiguro, Gojo rounding the final corner now. 

YT: Waiting for the rest of the cars to line up on the grid. Oh, God, I don’t think I can look. I have no idea which way this is going to go. 

MN: Last car pulling up to the grid. Green flag being waved. For the second time in this race, the five lights go on, and- lights out and we go racing in Abu Dhabi! Fushiguro gets away well, so does Gojo, Itadori right on his tail as they get through turn one cleanly. Now, first overtaking zone is usually down at turn five-

YT: If JTR are going to play the team game, will Fushiguro let Gojo past here to get into clean air. 

MN: Itadori with those fresh softs is still so close, only point-three behind-

YT: Fushiguro DOES let Gojo past, and he manages to keep Itadori behind by the skin of his teeth, no DRS for these first two laps which is so crucial. 

MN: Itadori is right there! Oh my god-! 

YT: He’ll be wanting to get on with it, desperately, because those softs will fall off quicker than the Jujutsu’s mediums- he gets a slipstream down the back straight- is he close enough-

MN: He’s almost there but brilliant defending by Fushiguro forces him round the outside and he can’t get past! 

YT: That was old school, that was dedicated, that was brilliant, but he needs to make it stick if he wants to win this championship! 

 

—

 

RUSSIAN GP 2021: ITADORI TRIUMPHS AT RAIN-AFFECTED RUSSIAN GP TO TAKE MAIDEN G1 WIN

Written by Josh Kitchener, 26th September 2021

 

—

 

BREAKING: YUUJI ITADORI TO REPLACE UTAHIME AT KEICHO IN 2022, PARTNERING OKKOTSU

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

Scratch everything Satoru’s ever said before. He can describe the feeling of being in a grade one car. 

It feels like being given new lungs, having your mouth covered and being told to breathe deep. It feels like still finding air in the depths of it, fighting through and winning. Standing up to gravity and hoping you come out on top. Like– 

Walking the line between life and death. Between winning and losing. To every driver, they’re the same: would you die a martyr? Would you be happy, if you died in a crash, went out blazing? For so many years, Satoru thought: yeah. I’d be okay with it, with being like Sukuna. He made a mistake, he deserved it, he wanted it. You have to be okay with making the conscious decision every time you get in the car to be okay with dying, if things go wrong. 

Satoru wants more. He wants all this and more. He wants to get out, stand on the halo and look at the crowds and know he’s immortalised. He wants to be able to look back at it all and know that it’s his, forever, not theirs, know that he’s allowed to have it. He wants to stand in the garage and smile for the cameras, he wants to be able to stand shoulder to shoulder with Megs as he wins his first world title, the title that he knows will come. 

Maybe he wants to move back to Italy. Maybe he’d even pay tax, to be home, to be– 

This is it. The rest of his life. 

He wouldn’t be okay with dying here. He wants to see the rest of it, what he can make and what he can hold. What they all make of it. 

“Car behind?” 

“Still Megumi, two seconds, but Yuuji’s close,” 

“Tell me when the positions change,” Satoru grits his teeth, “but otherwise, let me drive, don’t talk under braking,” 

“Noted, let’s get it,” Shoko replies, “six laps to go,” 

 

—

 

CONFIRMED: Suguru Getou will head Scuderia Keicho in 2022

 

VIEW COMMENTS: 

 

Getoufanz7373: OH MY GOD?! OH MY GOD???? WHA T

Racingfansunofficial: this came out of nowhere

Keichoslefttoe: dude what the flip!! Is this the right decision???? Like idk about you guys but this makes me nervous

Yuujisdrs: girl who has a fucking. WHO HAS EYES ON SATORU GOJO RIGHT NOW?! 

 

—

 

TRANSCRIPT: THURSDAY PRESS CONFERENCE, ABU DHABI GP 2021 

 

QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 

 

Q (Joseph Sterling - Motorsport Independent): For Nanami, how are you feeling about the move to Sengoku? Obviously it’ll be a step down, is that where your career is going? 

NANAMI KENTO: Ah, I’m feeling good. Obviously I was never going to stay with JTR forever, and I’m grateful for everything they’ve done for me, but it’s time to move on and I’m optimistic about Sengoku’s development. Honestly, I’m a bit sick of this line of questioning, I get asked this every week. 

Q (Katie Hayes - Grade Racing Journal): To Gojo, obviously a lot of points were lost due to bad luck in the early season. Do you think that without that bad luck you could’ve fought for the championship against Yuuta, and how will you pull yourself back for next season? 

SATORU GOJO: Well, questions about reliability should be directed at my team principal. [laughs] It was car faults, luck. Not driver error. I have nothing to pull back for next season. 

Q (Anthony Smith - Torque Magazine): To Utahime, you’re moving teams to a much less competitive outfit next season. How are you feeling about that decision? 

IORI UTAHIME: Good. I’ve been open about my health declining and having less confidence overall and I think the opportunity to step away from title fights is one I welcome. Stepping down in commitments and expectations is a way to manage the expectations. There's somewhat less pressure in the midfield.

Q (Grace Mack - Aerosport Weekly): Question for Gojo, within the last few hours its been announced formally that your ex-teammate, and world champion driver Suguru Getou will return to the grid next year as a team principal for Scuderia Keicho, after having headed the junior team successfully in grade two for the last three years. What are your thoughts on this? Does he have the potential to continue to push the team forward? Is he too inexperienced to head a G1 team, with the pressure?

[Note: lengthy pause]

SG: Sorry. Suguru’s what? 

Q: He’s the new team principal of Scuderia Keicho next year. Since you know him so well, what are your thoughts on it?

SG: I wasn’t made aware. 

Q: Do you think he has the potential to continue the team’s current successful trajectory with the new regulations? Especially considering that they’ve retained the current world champion and signed the rookie of the year, who is toted as being a future champion?

SG: I’m sure that he will do a great job. He has intimate knowledge of racing and he understands the engineering of the cars well, so he will make a good principal, although time will tell.

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

“Itadori P2, gap is one-point-seven,” Shoko’s voice crackles. Satoru swears under his breath. He can see the red in his wing mirrors. The soft tyres still have life in them. “Four laps to go, come on.”  

“Copy,” 

 

—

 

COMMENTARY TRANSCRIPT - ABU DHABI GP 2022, LAP 53

 

YUKI TSUKUMO: This time, Yuuji will get DRS down into turn six, and he’s not close enough but my God-

MOMO NISHIMIYA: The gap, point-two. Two laps of racing left. 

YT: He’ll get ANOTHER helping of DRS down to turn nine, Gojo forces him wide, they’re wheel to wheel and they so almost touch-! Gojo stays ahead but for how long-! 

MN: Itadori is right on his tail- they head across the line, we’re in the penultimate lap now- 

YT: Down to turn five- Yuuji’s got the slipstream- old school, no DRS, he pulls out- OH MY GOD- CAN HE MAKE IT STICK- YES! YUUJI ITADORI LEADS THE ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX AND IN ONE MOVE HE’S TAKEN THE TITLE BACK FROM GOJO! 

MN: But Gojo will get DRS down both straights, that rear wing is open, he pulls out- 

YT: And the lead changes AGAIN down into turn nine, through the chicane- this is racing! This is th old guard and his prodigy, ringing in a new era of G1- through sector three they go, Yuuji hanging on the back of Gojo, they’re going over the line- Gojo leads the final lap of the season! 

MN: Down we go to turn five, where Itadori overtook last time– can he make a move again there- he doesn’t! 

YT: Yuuji Itadori you are my hero! Look at that. That’s tactical. That’s brave. He’ll get DRS again on the way down to turn six- he’s right behind him, they’re wheel to wheel- this is incredible-! 

MN: He’s waiting for the last DRS zone-! 

YT: Here we go- Itadori will get DRS for the final time going down to turn twelve- he’s forced to the outside by Gojo, but- WHAT A MOVE! CAN HE MAKE IT STICK? GOJO GOES DEEP– HE CAN! YUUJI ITADORI GETS THE MOVE DONE AND HE LEADS THE ABU DHABI GRAND PRIX! YOU CAN HEAR THE CROWD ON THEIR FEET! 

MN: Can Gojo fight back? I don’t think he can-

YT: For the first time since 2014, a Japanese driver is going to win the world championship. The last Japanese winner is now the team principal of this driver, and the oldest rival of the legend he has come to beat- ROUND THE FINAL CORNER- IT COMES FULL CIRCLE AND YUUJI ITADORI, FOR THE FIRST TIME, IS CHAMPION OF THE WORLD! 

 

—

 

March 2022, Bahrain

 

The smell of petrol is the same everywhere, but the atmosphere has always been different in G1, compared to every other series in the world. The winter was long, but rewarding, and Suguru forgot how much he missed this: the team, the engineers, the intensity. It’s a new kind of pressure: one that builds him into something strong, instead of tearing him apart at the seams.

The car is wheeled in, and Suguru can see Yuuji’s little helmet wobbling from side to side as he speaks over the radio, “it feels good. Really even and balanced through the corners, I just really trust it,” 

Todo throws Suguru a thumbs up and Suguru swivels in his seat. The JTR car was wheeled in a bit earlier, and now he sees Satoru, pulling his balaclava off, going to Shoko. They’ve gotten closer whilst he was away. He doesn’t know how to feel about it, but it makes something churn in his stomach. He slips off his stool, and taps Todo on the shoulder, “I’ll be right back.” 

It’s ultimately not his decision to walk over. It’s the fault of meeting on that karting track, it’s their days as teammates, it’s all the unanswered texts. I need to know that you were hurt just as much as I was. I need to know you’re not over me, like I’m not over you. 

Yaga notices him first. His expression goes stormy. 

“Yo, Satoru,” 

Satoru Gojo looks older than the last time he saw him. His hair is cut better, now, even though it’s completely messed up from the helmet. He has a few freckles from the sun over the bridge of his nose, the same scars on his knuckles. 

He breathes out. He looks dejected for a single moment, helpless in the face of it. Then it fills with anger, to protect himself. His arms fold across his chest as he grits his teeth. 

And Suguru has his answer. “It’s been a while.”

 

—

 

November 2022, United Arab Emirates

 

The thing is, he feels it slipping. He knows a tactical drive when he sees one, knows that it’s risky. And then he made a mistake, under pressure. Yuuji forced it out of him. 

The fireworks scream into the air, and he watches the teams leaning over the pitwall, screaming their praise for their champion. 

“No words, Satoru,” Shoko says, down the radio. 

“Yeah, me either,” Satoru replies, and he’s laughing. He’s crying. He doesn’t know what he is. “God.” 

The car slows down. “Can I do burnouts?” 

“Of course,” Yaga’s voice comes down the radio, “you’re our world champion, Satoru. This is yours.” 

Satoru pulls alongside Yuuji, who has one hand on his helmet, the other on his wheel, and waves. Moves his finger in circles. Yuuji sends a shaky thumbs up back. As they come round and the other cars peel away into the pitlane, the two of them carry on. Yuuji lets him past to go first, and Satoru wrenches the car into a spin with one hand. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees Yuuji doing the same, on parallel lines, almost. Connected by strings. 

They don’t bother driving round again. They stop the cars on the pit straight, and it is only then that Satoru hears the roar of the crowd. It’s only then he lifts his visor to see the photographers running for them. The personnel. He presses his radio button, holds it down with a shaking hand. “Thanks, guys, for believing in me as an idiot kid, for everything. We did it. Six world championships, I’m forever in your debt,” 

“Been an honour,” Shoko says back. She’s crying. “I’m coming down now,” 

“God, you better build me a hypercar,” Satoru says, out loud, into the air. He watches from his own cockpit as Yuuji clambers out, head in his hands. He wants to savour this for just a few more moments. He wants to be here, in the car, for just a bit longer. When he sees Yuuji running for Todo, he shuts his eyes, prepares himself for it. The storm. 

His feet hit the tarmac. The first thing he sees is Getou, jumping up and down with Yuuji, grabbing at him and holding him up. 

Satoru goes to them. He’s lost. It’s sore. He’s still full of it: awe and a deep sense of missing something he thinks he might have never needed. 

Yuuji turns, and he’s hesitant, Satoru can tell even through the visor. He grabs his hand and spins him, hugs him tight. “You did it.” 

“I’m sorry!” Yuuji shouts, “I’m so sorry!”

“You were incredible, you deserved it!” Satoru shouts back, pushing him back by the shoulders, “that last lap was the most alive I’ve felt in years!” 

Yuuji crumples, eyes watering. Behind them, more of the team is rushing out, grabbing him and picking him up, slapping him on the back and the helmet. Suguru turns to him. Looks. 

“I guess I’m getting your number,” he says, normal volume. Not shouted for the microphones. 

Suguru grabs him, pulls him into a hug. Satoru lets his helmet fall to his shoulder, squeezes his eyes tight shut. Whatever happens now, it’s over. It’s done. 

“I love you,” Suguru says, squeezing his shoulders. “You made that so hard for him, that was- you were incredible, out there,” 

He’s got the rest of his life. He chokes out, “I know,” 

 

—

 

It was all for nothing, in the end. And then, it was for everything, for everything he needed to be, for the life outside of this. He has a life outside of this. He has love outside of this. 

He looks up at Yuuji on the podium, draped in the Japanese flag, grinning ear to ear, and at Megumi, hands tucked behind his back. His canines are sharp, glinting under fluorescent lights. 

He looks down at Suguru at the barriers, flushed from crying and screaming himself hoarse. He thinks about being able to kiss him later, thinks about going home and giving himself over to him. Thinks about how he doesn’t mind it, that he doesn’t need a seventh to be home and held tight and to hear a heartbeat. For it to be real. He’s never needed it, and he’s only realising now. 

This is it.

 

—

 

OFFICIAL 2022 G1 FINAL DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS  - TOP TEN

POS	DRIVER	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Yuuji ITADORI (=)	Scuderia Keicho	395
2	Satoru GOJO (=)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	388
3	Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)	Jujutsu Technical Racing	317
4	Yuuta OKKOTSU (-1)	Scuderia Keicho	312
5	Nanami KENTO (=)	Sengoku	255
6	Toge INUMAKI (=)	Sengoku	188
7	Nobara KUGISAKI (+1)	Meiji	132
8	Mai ZENIN (-1)	Meiji	120
9	Iori UTAHIME (=)	Kyoto G1 Team	87
10	Mei MEI (=)	Haein	78

OFFICIAL 2022 FINAL G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS

 

POS	CONSTRUCTOR	POINTS
1	Scuderia Keicho (=)	707
2	Jujutsu Technical Racing (=)	705
3	Sengoku (=)	443
4	Meiji (=)	252
5	Haein (=)	91
6	Kyoto G1 Team (=)	88

—

Bonus: the faceoff photos :)

Notes:

crying as i upload this. im not done with this universe, and im not done with jjk, so you'll see me soon im sure. new sports au is hockey, series called see you on the powerplay, and its already got two works and counting, one available on ao3 rn, and this fic WILL have a sequel. for now im taking a break from this verse but if something truly insane happens during silly season then .... maybe inspiration will hit me! a sequel is planned and several oneshots are in the works, so bookmark the series if you wanna keep up !! <3

follow me on tumblr, and on twitter to keep updated :3 thank you for reading and supporting. its been overwhelming in the best way.

Notes:

come chat to me on tumblr! asks are open :)

<3

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of lights out, and away we go!