『𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝』𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

「𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒: 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄₁ » ɴʀ

〖  part one  〗

JUST A LITTLE MORE

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COLORFUL SPOTS swam around him. Shapes and silhouettes had turned into a blur. His eyes sharpened to read the circuit and calculate meters instinctively: if you don't start turning here, you will crash; if you don't start pressing the brakes, you will crash; if you stop now, you will never reach them.

He had to surpass the two cars before him. This was the last lap, his last chance - but it was easier to reach than it was to pass. They left no opening for him to move forward. The Mercedes took the lead, the McLaren attempted to overtake it, and both occupied the track, stealing the show hand in hand.

Nagi gritted his teeth, obsessed with the competition at the front. He needed for one of those two to win, for one to deviate and create space. He just needed enough margin, as soon as there was enough margin...

"Hiori is two seconds behind," the radio informed.

The red and blue car flashed in the corner of his eye.

Nagi had to increase his speed, multiplying those seconds up to double or more. His dream couldn't be over. It wouldn't end here. He was sweating under his gloves and tightened his hands on the wheel.

He could already feel the trophy slipping through his fingers.

On the last turn, the rivals closed in on each other and abruptly veered to the right, out of the way — the wheels of the McLaren ending up on top of the Mercedes. The miracle happened right before his eyes, and somehow Nagi couldn't really believe it until he heard those five words: "ITOSHI AND ISAGI ARE OUT!"

He drove past it. No smoke rose in spirals. The sky remained blue — clear now that the rain was over. No red flags were raised, and Nagi was allowed to continue. He had to continue, did it with more kilometers per hour than before.

Through the radio, he was reminded of Hiori's Red Bull hot on his heels. It didn't matter anymore, because, with the other two competitors out of the race, Nagi was crowned the winner. There was enough space for both him and Hiori on the podium.

As cheers broke out, he could only pick up one of his team engineer's voices on the radio, Chris Prince congratulating him. "You did it, Nagi! Great race, man!"

The excitement buzzed under his skin.

Nagi Seishiro was fire. Subtle at the beginning, growing stronger as years passed, and at times dangerous, all-consuming. He could destroy everything.

Nagi slowed down and stopped the car. Laughs echoed on the radio, and maybe they were his because his chest was rising and falling, and his cheeks hurt. Finally, victory was back in his grasp. With 25 points for the Italy Grand Prix, he got closer to the top two, the real competition.

Even if no one could see past those two, he was not going to be left behind.

Someone helped undo his belt, another person took the wheel away to make room, and hands pulled him up. Suddenly Nagi was out, swallowed by claps and hugs, pats on the back. In a matter of seconds, he was on the podium with the flower crown around his neck, shaking the champagne bottle as was tradition.

To his right, Hiori. To his left, Tabito. The cork shot out and foam bathed them all; flashes went off. For the first time in a long time, Nagi smiled at the cameras.