Tokyo Bay Riders: Cyberpunk Joyrider

8

Akira's Kawasaki roared underneath him, in a new lease of life after his almost catastrophic accident weeks ago. The black exterior and new wheels were a godsend, he seemed to glide around now rather than struggle. He also had the worry off his mind of his bike dying a death mid-ride.

The late evening traffic was starting to bore Akira, he needed action, hustle, bustle- sitting in stationary traffic had no appeal. Luckily for him he did have a new feature on his motorbike, he'd have to make a note to thank Daido later. His old radio had only ever been tuned into police radios and any private information waves that he could get his hands on, this one being a step up in the right direction. A Bluetooth radio. As basic as it sounded Akira was over the moon, he could now intercept the cops whilst listening to some great music, also adding to his scenic Tokyo joyrides.

嵐　瓦礫　炎　破片　街　竜巻　力　光
ヤツら　祭り　空　仲間　走る

Kaneda by Geinoh Yamashiro-gumi. The main theme to Akira, and no not Mr Satō. It had shuffled onto his Bluetooth and rung delightfully through his earpiece, really setting the vibe of his night ride.

ラッセラ　ラッセラ　ラッセラッセ　ラッセラ

ラッセラ　ラッセラ　ラッセラッセ　ラッセラ

He'd always thought how ironic it was that he was named Akira and so was one of his favorite pieces of media. Maybe Akira was one of Akira's biggest influences- maybe that's why he'd opted for a motorbike over a car. He'd remembered at school, a conversation one rainy day where everyone had talked about their dream car. Akira hadn't answered the question, he'd been staring at a group of boys not too much older than himself who'd been a street away. He could see them clearly from the class window, he could see the Kawasaki's they all had. Practically drooling through the window, no one had understood why he'd been so obsessed with bikes.

One wrong move and you'd be dead.

ラッセ　ラッセ　ラッセ　ラッセ　ラッセ　ラッセ　ラッセラ　

His grandmother had smacked him hard over the head the day he came back with his own bike. Akira had regretted it for at least a week after, with his grandmother worried sick at the fact he'd fallen off it everyday since the purchase. On the seventh day he'd taken his test, passed with flying colors. He'd not long turned 18 at the time, so the world was new and full of color when he finally earned the freedom to ride on his own.

Neon reflected in the puddles under his wheels, Shinjuku alive and well as per usual. Akira was starting to think the city was on par with New York- never sleeping, always watching. His engine roared to life as red turned to green, the glare of lights pouring on him from all directions.

嵐　瓦礫　炎　破片　街　竜巻　力　光
ヤツら　祭り　空　仲間　走る

For once he wasn't the only joyrider on the prowl, a group of three pulling up beside him at the next light. The leader put a hand up to Akira, Akira mimicking the motion. It was only customary to acknowledge fellow riders, and as the lights changed again both parted like ships passing in the night.

Cars passed swiftly on both sides as he rode out of Shinjuku, his destination not decided and as far as he was aware unreachable. He'd follow where the night would take him for now, listening out for Yoru's call in case she needed him. He still hadn't seen his dragon since his accident, but he knew she'd been watching. Those purple eyes glaring through the black sky like nightmarish stars.

仲間　走る　金田　鉄雄　甲斐　山形
仲間　走る　金田　鉄雄　甲斐　山形

Akira roared his engine once again, some expensive looking cars coming at him from each side. He had to keep appearances, as both roared their engines in response. Akira could see their faces as he turned his head side to side, they couldn't see his. Two males around his own age, both grinning ear to ear. They definitely knew each other, he'd seen both cars minutes before when he'd joined this specific highway.

They'd came here specifically to drag race.

Akira was smirking under his mask. Managing to roll his shoulders back with a crack before accelerating, disappearing into the Tokyo traffic. Both men followed close behind in their own vehicles, before long they'd all shifted at least ten blocks in an alarmingly short space of time. Akira now had his police radio tuned in as his song finished, they'd luckily not been alerted to any nearby officers.

Akira was starting to think he'd truly became an expert at his criminal life, avoiding the cops and DRA on the daily whilst keeping his freedom and causing chaos on the roads.

He had never felt more alive.

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chapter 8, end.
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