ENGLISH VERSION - Second Star to the Right (Mikey Bonten x OC)

Chapter 24: Tokyo Drift

POV MIKEY

The roar of the Mercedes engine rumbles behind us, muffled by the wind howling in my ears. My hands grip the handlebars tightly, and the bike surges forward as I twist the throttle to its limit.

The city blurs around us in a whirl of flashing lights and looming shadows.

I feel Ayana tighten her grip around my waist, her trembling arms clutching me with all their strength.

"Keep holding on," I grit out, my eyes locked on the road ahead.

A sharp turn comes into view. They try to keep up, but they lose a meter or two. Not enough.

I weave between cars, skimming past mirrors, ignoring the blaring horns and shouted curses. The Mercedes stays on my tail, its engine growling like a rabid beast. It forces cars aside. These guys aren't amateurs. Still, I'm faster. In another life, I could've been a racer.

Another corner, even tighter this time. I feel the rear tire skid slightly before regaining traction. Ayana stifles a cry, but I don't slow down. Not for a second.

Up ahead, a bridge looms, its white lights reflecting off the water below. Perfect. A straight stretch. I twist the throttle further, the bike screaming in protest. The Mercedes falls back. Not far enough, but just enough for a few seconds' lead.

Then, I see it.

At the end of the bridge, five vehicles lined up. Not regular cars. Black SUVs, engines running, headlights aimed at us like spotlights.

Shit.

An ambush.

Alone, I'd have kept going. I'd have rammed through, crushed anything in my path. But Ayana's here, clinging to my back, her life in my hands.

I slam the brakes hard, the bike screeching in resistance as I pull back. The rear wheel skids, but I hold steady, stopping just short of committing to the bridge.

Silence settles, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the low growl of the SUVs' engines ahead.

I glance behind us. The AMG stops at the bridge's entrance, cutting off any escape.

We're trapped.

I feel Ayana shift, her rapid breathing against my back.

"Mikey..." she murmurs, her voice trembling.

I know. My eyes lock on the figures stepping out of the SUVs. All armed.

And one man.

Tall, broad-shouldered. A tattoo snakes up his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his black shirt. His gaze is hard, piercing, and his smirk... smug, like he's already won.

"Mikey... That guy... He was at the party," Ayana murmurs in my ear, lifting the visor of her helmet.

I expected him. Sanzu did too. I recognized him last time, during that botched mission, when Rindou got stabbed and we had to retreat.

Kensho Hishi.

The infamous "Ghost." Former leader of the Yotsuya Kaidan. Crushed by Keisuke Baji and the Toman's First Division.

He walks forward calmly, his boots echoing against the asphalt. He stops a few meters away, hands in his pockets, that smug smile still plastered on his face.

"Manjiro Sano," he begins, his voice deep and steady. "It's been a while, hasn't it? No need for introductions—we know each other."

He spits the last words, his jaw clenching briefly before his smirk returns.