Race Towards Destiny

It was approximately two in the morning when Mitsu found himself sneaking onto the racetrack, his heart racing from more than just the obscene amount of coffee coursing through his veins. He didn’t have anything to worry about, not really. The people at the track knew him well, and while they didn’t advertise it, they didn’t have any issues with regular racers using the track after hours to take a joyride every once in a while.

The only reason Mitsu was crippled with nerves was the fact that it was the first time that he’d taken advantage of this unofficial privilege himself.

Lining up his car at the starting line was an alien experience at this time of night. It was so dark that anything beyond his lights was pitch black, and it felt like being in a submarine in the depths of the ocean, where all the oddities of deep-sea life were hidden in the dark. Besides the small hum of his engine, there was nothing but blanket silence.

For Mitsu, being on the track felt like more of a spiritual experience than anything the mediums had conjured for him.

As the car wheel vibrated underneath his palms, he tried to envision the banner at the starting line. The words printed on it always gave him hope, but he’d never taken it very seriously. What did it mean, really, to “Race Towards Destiny?” He didn’t know. However, seeing as his efforts to communicate with Sakura had come to a disappointing end, he wondered if he really had been chasing the wrong destiny all this time.

A single knuckle knocked on his window amidst Mitsu’s thoughts, and he jumped so high his head almost hit the ceiling of the car.

He’d been caught.

————

“You know, if you worked in a haunted house, you’d be the type of guy who’d scare someone so bad they’d punch you in the face.”

His friend, Ren, merely huffed in amusement as he climbed into the passenger seat of Mitsu’s car and swung the door shut. While the car was swamped in darkness—save for the faint glow of the dashboard—Mitsu swore he caught the slightest upturn of his lips. “You’re the one who told me you’d be here,” he pointed out in a gravelly voice.

“It wasn’t meant to be an invitation.”

“You’ve never used the track after hours. I figured I needed to check up on you.”

Mitsu’s hands tightened on the wheel. He wasn’t really ready to talk about what happened. He didn’t want to hear Ren, the guy who had been the best man at his wedding, say the dreaded words, “I told you so.”

They sat there in silence for a long moment. “What, is it just gonna be me talking?”

Mitsu didn’t answer; he couldn’t.

“Well, I guess that’s fine too.” Ren dug into his pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. He slipped a tab of it in his mouth before looking out the window, the dragon tattoo on his neck twisting with the movement.

“…It’s been a while since I’ve seen you chewing the gum,” Mitsu said quietly, finally deciding to break the silence.

“I don’t need it as often as I did before. I only chew a piece a day now.”

“Really? That’s…that’s…”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “That’s?”

Mitsu laughed. “That’s awesome, man!”

Mitsu had known Ren since high school, way back when they’d both been too young and too poor to afford to do anything but watch the races at the tracks. The day Ren turned eighteen, he’d brought Mitsu along as he smoked through a whole pack of cigarettes to celebrate. He’d gotten hooked after that day, and Mitsu regretted not knocking the first cig right out of his mouth that night.

Ever since then, Mitsu had encouraged him countless times to quit, even offering to buy Ren the nicotine gum as a substitute until he could fully ease off of it. They’d talked about Ren quitting countless times over the years, but his friend always waved Mitsu off with a grumpy expression. At least, that was, until a couple of years ago. When Ren suddenly announced that he wanted to stop, Mitsu had no idea what had changed his mind—if he was honest, he didn’t really care. He’d driven to the convenience store, put the gum in his hand, and Ren hadn’t even argued about it.

“I thought you should know, since you’re my supplier and all,” Ren said.

Mitsu snorted. “You’re so dry.”

“Think what you want.”

“How tolerant of you,” Mitsu said, feeling amused. “You were so petty in high school that a comment like that could have started an all-out brawl. You’ve changed a lot since then, haven’t you?”

“And so have you,” Ren said pointedly. His blue eyes pinned Mitsu in place like a sticky note on a corkboard. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling so amused anymore. “Since when did you ever believe in mediums?”

“I still don’t.”

“Is that right? Then it should be no problem to stop handing them your money for no reason.”

Ren knew he’d been going to mediums since the beginning. While he’d never been explicitly supportive, he hadn’t tried to stop him, either. It was ironic he was telling him to quit after he’d already decided to give up.

Mitsu tilted his head back so it hit the headrest with a thud. “Today was the last time.”

“Good. You don’t need them anyway.”

“Maybe,” Mitsu said, the anger creeping into his voice like frost over a lake, “but at least they didn’t expect me to just move on.”

Ren placed a hand on his shoulder. “I never expected that from you, Mitsu. I was there at her funeral. I saw you that day. I knew it wouldn’t be easy for you.”

“I know you didn’t.” While Ren probably felt like he hadn’t done enough for him, that wasn’t true. His boss, the rest of his friends, and even his family expected him to be fully functional as soon as the funeral was over. He didn’t know how many times he had been forced to smile for the sake of not making others feel uncomfortable since that day. At least with Ren, he’d never had to pretend.

Ren looked out at the small visible piece of the track with an indecipherable expression. “I wish I could tell you where to go from here.”

“You don’t have to give me directions.” Mitsu shifted the car into gear and smiled softly. “Just come along for the ride. That’s plenty.”

“I’ll pass,” Ren said with a lazy wave of his hand. “I beat you in the last race. Why would I want to ride with second place?”

“Pfft. You haven’t even seen how fast I can go.”

“Are you telling me you were holding back?”

Mitsu shook his head. “No. But I’ve made some adjustments to my specs since the last race. She isn’t the same car she used to be,” he said with a proud grin.

“Oh really?” Ren pulled out his phone and waved it at him. “Then how about we test it? I’ll time you, and we’ll see if you can beat my time from the last race.”

“Bring it.”

Ren’s finger hovered over the start button on the stopwatch on his phone as Mitsu waited for the signal in anticipation. He revved up the engine just to hear the way it growled and purred, ready to show Ren what it was capable of.

“3…2…1…Start!”

Mitsu smashed his foot against the pedal, and they practically leaped across the starting line. Kei cars weren’t particularly fast, but Mitsu had modified his car to be competitive, and it definitely showed just from the speed of his acceleration alone.

Ren rolled down the window, allowing the wind to blow his immaculate brown hair into a bird’s nest. “Not a bad start,” he said over the sound of the wind rippling through the car. “Definitely not enough to steal the crown back from me, though.”

“Hey, cut me some slack! I’ve never driven the track at night before.”

“And you never will again if you don’t pay attention!” Ren snapped as Mitsu narrowly avoided hitting one of the walls on the first turn.

“Sorry.”

Despite apologizing, Mitsu still drove around the track must faster than he normally did, carving his way through the darkness at an almost dizzying speed. It was a miracle he hadn’t become disoriented. Luckily, Mitsu knew the track like his own name, so he recognized when he’d finally rounded the last corner.

Mitsu found himself blinking in confusion as he looked past the finish line. “Hey, is someone else out here?”

“No way. I checked with the other guys who have a key to the gates. They’re all at home.”

“Then…what’s that light?”

Mitsu couldn’t tell at this distance if it was another pair of headlights, or something else altogether. Whatever it was, the closer they got to the finish line, it just continued getting brighter and brighter.

“Break!” Ren roared.

Mitsu pressed on the brakes hard, but it was too late. They were going too fast, and the light was so blinding that it seemed to swallow everything. The finish line. The screeching of his tires. Ren. And finally—terrifyingly—himself.