Into the Apex

Recovery

The frosty English mornings of early 2024 mirrored Masachika Kuze's cautious optimism. Each breath of cold air felt sharp, invigorating, as though it were a reminder that he was still here, still fighting. After the tumultuous years at Aston Martin, the prospect of joining McLaren felt like a lifeline—a fresh start.

The team had been welcoming from the very first meeting. Zak Brown's hearty handshake, the warm smiles from the engineers, and the banter-filled exchanges with Lando Norris all reassured Masachika that this was where he belonged. McLaren's state-of-the-art facilities in Woking felt like a different world compared to the tense, oppressive and often toxic environment he had endured at Aston Martin.

Masachika arrived at the McLaren Technology Centre early each day, eager to immerse himself in his new team's culture. The papaya-orange garage buzzed with energy and hope. The car itself looked promising in testing—McLaren had developed a machine that could potentially challenge for wins, perhaps even a championship.

"How's the seat fitting?" Lando Norris asked one afternoon, leaning against the side of Masachika's car as he adjusted himself in the cockpit.

"Better than that green monstrosity I had last year," Masachika quipped, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Lando chuckled. "We'll make sure to give you something worth fighting with this time. But don't get too comfortable—I'm not letting you steal all the headlines."

Masachika smirked. "We'll see about that."

Despite the light-hearted exchange, there was a mutual respect between the two drivers. Lando had been with McLaren for years, and Masachika respected his talent and loyalty to the team. For his part, Lando saw in Masachika a driver who had weathered storms and emerged stronger—a trait that resonated deeply with him.

Though his professional life felt like it was finally stabilizing, Masachika still grappled with the shadows of the past. The scars from Aston Martin, both physical and emotional, hadn't disappeared overnight. He attended therapy sessions regularly, learning to navigate the lingering self-doubt and the moments of overwhelming anxiety that still crept in.

His relationship with Alya had become his anchor. Their late-night calls were a source of comfort, though the physical distance between them remained a challenge. They talked about everything—his progress with McLaren, her life in Tokyo, their shared memories, and their hopes for the future.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of testing, Masachika called her from his kitchen.

"I'm finally starting to feel like myself again," he said, his voice steady but vulnerable. "It's... strange. I don't think I realized how far I had fallen until now."

"I can hear it in your voice," Alya replied softly. "You sound... lighter."

He hesitated. "I wish you were here to see it."

Her silence on the other end of the line was thoughtful, not dismissive. "Masachika," she said after a moment, "maybe it's time I stop watching from a distance."

In early February, a week before the first race of the season, Alya flew to England for another visit. The crisp air of Woking greeted her as she stepped out of the car in front of Masachika's home. This time, the visit carried a different weight.

Over dinner, she seemed quieter than usual, her silver hair catching the light of the chandelier as she toyed with her glass of wine. Masachika noticed her demeanor and leaned forward, his expression concerned.

"Alya, what's on your mind?" he asked gently.

She took a deep breath, placing the glass down on the table. "I've been thinking... about us, about everything. You're here, building something new, and I've been watching from thousands of miles away. But I'm tired of watching."

His heart raced as he tried to interpret her words. "What are you saying?"

She met his gaze, her silver eyes unwavering. "I'm saying I'll move here. To England. With you."

For a moment, Masachika was speechless. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, one of pure relief and joy. "Are you sure? I mean, it's a big change. Your life in Tokyo—"

"My life is with you," she interrupted, her tone firm but warm. "We've been apart for too long. If this is where you are, then this is where I want to be."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "Alya... I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," she replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. "Just promise me one thing—no more holding back. Let's build this life together."