"Oof, looks like our final four have totes turned the Shibuya Stakes into one giant street brawl," Nyami said as her animated model bounced excitedly beside the drone footage, her ears flicking while her tail swayed across the screen. "Still, it's not every day you tune in for a race and get front-row seats to a full-on fight, so I'm definitely not complaining."
Daichi kept his eyes fixed on the phone in his hand, though his palms had begun to sweat despite the cool air slipping through the open driver's-side window of Logan's battered Civic. Cigarette smoke drifted into the cabin from between Logan's fingers as he took another drag and exhaled toward the night, guiding the old car through traffic at an unhurried pace while Nyami's voice spilled from the phone's speakers. His expression tightened with every word, though he offered no comment, and Daichi did not dare interrupt the silence settling between them.
He had already lost count of how many sirens had passed since they left the car park. Each one began as a distant wail before swelling into a deafening rush, accompanied by a blast of wind and the violent pulse of red and blue light washing through the cabin, only to fade again as the cruisers disappeared toward Shibuya. Logan had been right about their chances of slipping away unnoticed, because the police were likely searching for lowered sports cars covered in neon lights, oversized decals, and illegal modifications rather than an aging hand-me-down from the eighties held together by duct tape, rust, and whatever mercy remained in its engine.
More importantly, no one in Tokyo would recognize the Hand of God behind the wheel of something this unimpressive. Daichi glanced toward Logan for a moment, but when the trainer raised an eyebrow without turning his head, he immediately looked back at the phone and pretended he had never been staring.
Nyami let out a playful laugh as her avatar leaned toward the camera and raised one finger. "Okay, for all my peeps who are still, like, super new to the MRA, here's a little lore drop so nobody starts screaming about cheating in the comments. Racers aren't allowed to hitch rides on vehicles, which means no sitting on cars, hiding in trucks, hopping aboard trains, or letting anything with an engine carry them through the course. That's like totes against the rules."
She swayed from side to side as the footage shifted to Barbarossa and Rekka fighting atop the moving container. "But if they're still using their own legs and just happen to be throwing hands on top of, inside of, or underneath one, then that's completely fine. Dangerous, insane, and probably like, a bad idea, but still legal."
Neither Logan nor Daichi spoke, leaving only the car's uneven engine and the faint rush of air through the window beneath Nyami's commentary.
"As for law enforcement, the cops technically have every right to chase our racers and take them down," Nyami continued, her smile softening into something sly as she rested one hand against her cheek. "Fair is fair, right? Cops and robbers, cat and mouse, badges chasing baddies, all that fun stuff. They can block roads, deploy traps, tackle runners, and slap cuffs on whoever they manage to catch, but trying to straight-up unalive them from the second the race begins is a major no-no."
A blood-red X flashed across the screen with a sharp electronic blare, and Nyami's pointed teeth appeared as her smile widened.
"If they want to see our racers in cuffs, then they have to earn it up close and personal," she said. "No potshots from rooftops, no hiding inside their little cruisers while they try to run somebody over, and definitely no turning an arrest into an execution just because they're scared to get their hands dirty. If the cops want to hit, they'd better be ready to get hit right back, because around here, all's fair in love, war, and the MRA."
"God, watchin' these races on a screen is one thing," Daichi said, biting down on his lower lip as Nyami's commentary continued in the background. "It sure as hell feels different when you're right in the middle of one."
"Yeah," Logan replied, releasing another plume of smoke through the open window while the battered Civic rolled steadily through traffic. "Just like there's a world of difference between watchin' from behind a screen and bein' sardined into the stands with everybody around you screamin' for their favorite girl to cross the finish line."
He flicked the cigarette into the night and pressed the switch on the armrest, drawing the window upward with the tired groan of an aging motor until the outside noise softened behind the glass. "That same energy's what keeps people comin' back. The Twinkle Series gives them sweat and turf, while the MRA gives them blood and asphalt, but underneath all the pretty lights and broken bones, everybody's chasin' the same damned high."
Daichi glanced over at him as Nyami began rattling off the remaining checkpoints from the phone in his lap. "You don't really believe they're the same, do you? The URA's all polished and prissy, with girls in frilly dresses singin' after the race, while the MRA's..." He gestured helplessly toward the screen, where footage of burning cruisers gave way to Barbarossa and Rekka trading blows atop the moving truck. "It's blood, death, and carnage."
"You've got that part right, but think about it for more than five seconds," Logan said as the traffic light ahead turned red and he eased the Civic to a stop behind a line of cars. The glow washed across his face while he rested one hand over the wheel. "You think the Twinkle Series is any more forgivin' just because the blood gets cleaned up before the Winning Live?"
He shifted his gaze to Daichi. "Tokai Teio, Biwa Hayahide, Mejiro McQueen, all of them dealt with injuries, illness, and bodies that started breakin' under the weight of what everybody expected from them. Hell, Sakura Laurel suffered some of the worst injuries in the sport, yet people still watched her drag herself back because that's what champions are supposed to do."
His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel as his gaze settled upon the red light ahead.
"Everybody calls it the price of bein' an athlete, which makes it sound clean and respectable, but those girls aren't only wreckin' themselves for trophies or braggin' rights. They're doin' it for the crowds, for the people wearin' their colors, and for every kid who looks at them and thinks gettin' back up is the same thing as never bein' allowed to stay down."
Logan's expression dimmed as memories displaced the traffic beyond the windshield. "Rose, Lightning, Bee, every one of my girls spent more time in the infirmary than I care to remember. Fractures, tears, breaks, sprains, I've seen enough of it to last me several lifetimes, and there were days I'd lose my damned mind after catchin' one of them sneakin' onto the track when the doctors had ordered bed rest."
He paused before continuing. "I'd yell, threaten to lock the gates, even beg them to take it easy for once, but none of it mattered because they had somethin' inside them that wouldn't let them stop. They needed to prove that no injury, no failure, and no bastard standin' in their way could keep them down, because somewhere out there was somebody who needed to believe the same thing about themselves."
Daichi remained quiet, the phone growing heavier in his hands as Dahlia's marker continued moving across its screen.
"Sometimes I'd lie awake wonderin' whether they became that way because of me," Logan continued, quieter beneath the low hum of the engines. "Maybe I spent so long tellin' them they were capable of more that they started thinkin' anything less than destroyin' themselves would mean lettin' me down."
"That's stupid, and you know it," Daichi said, though the words carried no mockery as he lowered his gaze toward the race feed. "You didn't put that fire inside them. Like you said, it's the sport, and they knew what they were getting into long before they stepped onto the track."
His thumb hovered over Dahlia's moving marker as another siren passed beyond the windows, bathing the cabin in red and blue before fading into the distance. "Dahlia knows too, and so does every girl runnin' in the MRA. You can warn them, train them, and try to keep them alive, but you can't make that choice for them."
Logan looked at him for a moment, then returned his attention to the light as it changed from red to green. The Civic rolled forward with the traffic, and although he said nothing, the tension in his hands gradually eased around the wheel.
"Yeah, suppose you're right," Logan said, letting out a quiet scoff as a reluctant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Guess even I need somebody pickin' me up every now and then."
"Oooh, hold up, where's Nightingale going?" Nyami's voice burst from the phone speakers, immediately pulling both Logan and Daichi back toward the screen.
The drone footage swept above the residential district as Dahlia and Yamino tore through the narrow streets, slipping between high walls, parked cars, and rows of darkened homes while the route twisted farther from the main course.
"Okay, so our girls are, like, totally taking the scenic route right now, but wait a second, are they heading toward that construction site? Because that is seriously giving me the worst kind of good feeling, and I am so here for whatever crazy mess is about to happen. Tell me what you think in the chat, babes, because I know I am not the only one losing it right now."
Logan's expression hardened as he leaned slightly toward the phone, his earlier smile disappearing while the construction crane rose into view beyond the rooftops. "What the hell are you up to, kid?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing as Dahlia's marker continued straight toward it.
Daichi said nothing beside him, though the way his fingers tightened around the phone made his worry plain enough.
"And guess what, peeps? We're coming up on the halfway mark!" Nyami continued, her animated model bouncing with renewed excitement while messages flooded the chat faster than the screen could display them. "So, stay locked in, keep those notifications on, and don't go wandering off, because the finish line is dropping real soon. The second it does, get those pretty little tails moving and make your way over there, because one of these four girls is about to make history, and you seriously do not want to be the loser hearing about it afterward."
The portraits of the remaining racers flashed across the screen one after another as Nyami counted them down with a growing grin.
"Who's, like, taking it home tonight? Is Rekka going to burn through everybody left in front of her, is Captain Barbarossa sailing off with the prize, is Yamino going to smash her way through the field, or is Nightingale about to pull off the biggest upset Shibuya has ever seen?"
****
Dahlia launched herself toward the steel fence, hooked both hands through the chain links, and hauled herself upward before swinging one leg over the top and dropping into the construction site beyond. Her cleats struck the damp earth with a heavy thud, kicking loose clumps of dirt behind her as she drove herself forward, and barely a second later, Yamino crashed straight through the barrier without bothering to climb it. Steel posts tore free from their concrete anchors, chain links twisted around her shoulders, and the entire section collapsed behind her as though it had been no more troublesome than a curtain.
Ahead, the half-finished building rose beneath amber work lights, floors of bare concrete stained with hardened cement and shadowed by exposed beams. The ground beneath Dahlia's boots remained soft from the evening damp, giving slightly beneath every stride while she threaded her way through coiled cables, stacks of timber, bundled rebar, and pallets of bricks hidden beneath tarpaulins. Construction vehicles stood abandoned around the perimeter with their cabins dark and engines cold, the warmth left behind by the last workers having faded hours ago.
"Night, I don't mean to keep pestering you," Light said through the comms as Dahlia reached the unfinished stairwell and began taking the steps two at a time, "but maybe if you told me what the plan was, I could—"
"No time, Light," Dahlia replied, glancing back just as Yamino failed to stop herself and plowed into a pallet of bricks. The stack collapsed around her in a violent tumble of red clay and dust, but she answered with a furious growl and charged toward the stairs without losing more than a few seconds. "Besides, you'd probably try to talk me out of it."
The tapping on Light's keyboard stopped for a moment. "Now I'm concerned on a number of levels."
"Find out where Rekka and Barbarossa are headed," Dahlia said as she cleared the first stairwell and raced across the open floor, her boots pounding hard enough to send gray dust rolling behind her. Her gaze lifted toward the next flight rising through the concrete skeleton above. "This building has at least twelve floors, right?"
The keyboard resumed. "Twelve completed floors, yes, but everything above that is unfinished."
"Then find me the building beside it, and make sure it's old," Dahlia said as she sprinted toward a worktable blocking her path. She vaulted over it without breaking stride, while Yamino followed seconds later and smashed the entire thing apart with one sweep of her arm, sending splintered timber skittering across the rough floor. "I'm talking barely holding itself together old."
"Night..." Light's voice sharpened as the possible shape of the plan began to form. "You're not thinking about—"
Dahlia spotted a strip of dirty cloth hanging from a stack of bricks and tore it free as she passed, then caught one of the loose bricks with her other hand. Without slowing, she wrapped the rag around the brick, twisted the fabric tight, and knotted the ends together until the weight hung from her fist like a crude flail.
She reached the next staircase and started climbing, but a hand suddenly locked around her ankle.
Dahlia cried out as Yamino ripped her backward, slamming her body against the concrete steps hard enough to jar the air from her lungs. Her shoulder struck first, then her ribs, while Yamino hauled herself closer with a triumphant snarl and raised one arm to finish the attack.
"Got you, bitch!" Yamino shouted. "Now get—"
Dahlia twisted onto her back and swung the wrapped brick in the same motion, putting everything she had into the strike. The improvised weapon smashed across Yamino's face with a blunt crack, snapping her head violently to the side and forcing her grip to loosen. Dahlia tore her ankle free, scrambled upward, and threw the rag aside as the brick inside crumbled into broken fragments.
Yamino remained crouched on the stairs for several seconds, one hand pressed against her jaw while blood gathered beneath the edge of her mask. She worked the joint carefully from side to side, then jerked it back into place with a sickening pop before lifting her gaze toward Dahlia.
Whatever fury had driven her before further deepened into something far uglier as she pulled her mask aside, worked her jaw with a grimace, and spat a bloodied tooth onto the ground next to her boot.
Dahlia stumbled onto the next floor and forced herself back into a sprint, while behind her, Yamino rose and charged up the staircase with every step striking hard enough to shake dust from the concrete.
****
Blood sprayed from Rekka's lips when Barbarossa's heel cracked across her cheek, painting another streak of red across the white roof of the steel container as both pairs of boots rang against the metal beneath them. One of Rekka's eyes had already swollen shut, and bruises darkened the blood-slicked skin across her face while she struggled to keep her balance atop the speeding semi.
Barbarossa, by contrast, kept swaying in the same loose rhythm as before, shifting from side to side with her shoulders relaxed and her weight never settling long enough for Rekka to predict where the next strike would come from. The wider Barbarossa's smirk grew, the more Rekka's anger sharpened.
A furious cry tore from Rekka's throat as she charged, throwing one punch after another in a nonstop rush of hooks and straight blows, but Barbarossa slipped around each one with maddening ease. She ducked under one swing, planted both hands against the container, and kicked upward while upside down, forcing Rekka to block the first strike and then the second before driving forward again. Barbarossa moved away with a quick handstand turn, her legs sweeping overhead in a smooth cartwheel, then twisted as she landed and sent another kick toward Rekka's ribs, only for Rekka to take it on her forearm.
Barbarossa stepped in right away, whipping one leg low before spinning through the motion and sending the other toward Rekka's head in a fast turning kick. This time, however, Rekka caught the incoming leg under her arm, locked it tight against her side, and drove a heavy kick into Barbarossa's body.
Barbarossa crossed both arms in time to block the strike, but the force still sent her sliding several feet across the container roof. Rekka refused to let her recover and rushed after her, twisting in midair before dropping knee-first toward her chest. Barbarossa rolled away at the last moment, and Rekka's knee slammed into the steel hard enough to dent the roof with a deafening clang.
As Barbarossa dropped low onto one knee, Rekka turned from the impact and swept her heel across the side of her face. The strike snapped Barbarossa's head around and sent her staggering toward the edge, where her heel stopped barely an inch from open air. She glanced over her shoulder at the road rushing beneath the moving truck before turning back toward Rekka, who was already rising with a bloodied grin stretched across her face.
"Yeah, how do you like that, you fake-ass pirate?" Rekka spat.
Barbarossa ran her thumb across the corner of her mouth and studied the smear of blood left behind before giving a quiet, unimpressed scoff. "The first hit ye manage to land on me, and already ye're celebratin' like ye've sunk the whole damned fleet."
She rolled one shoulder, then tilted her head until her neck cracked. "Meanwhile, ye look like ye're sailin' on yer last cannon." Her smirk returned as she lowered her stance and began swaying once more, every slow step daring Rekka to come again. "Suppose it's always the ones with nothin' left who shout the loudest, but if this is truly the best ye've got, then I owe ye an apology, lass. Ye ain't ready for the deep, and ye ain't even close."
Rekka's face twisted with renewed fury as she cracked her knuckles and dragged herself back into a fighting stance. "Yeah, keep yapping, you dancey, flippy little bitch, because you still ain't putting me down." She lowered her weight, dug her boots into the steel, and launched herself forward with enough force to make the container shudder beneath them. "No one can!"
Barbarossa turned smoothly into the charge, dropping low as one leg swept across the roof in a wide arc, but Rekka vaulted over it and twisted in midair, driving her heel into the back of Barbarossa's head. The blow knocked the pirate queen forward, though instead of falling, she planted both hands against the steel and let the momentum carry her into a handstand. Her trailing leg whipped backward and caught Rekka across the face, snapping her head aside while she was still airborne.
Barbarossa spun upright and caught a fistful of Rekka's jacket before she could land, yanking her forward and driving a knee deep into her stomach. Rekka's amber eyes widened as the air was torn from her lungs, her mouth falling open while spit spilled down the side of her lips. Barbarossa held her there for a moment, staring directly into her eyes with an amused curl at the edge of her mouth, but the sudden change in the truck's motion drew her attention toward the road ahead.
The semi had begun slowing.
Barbarossa looked past Rekka and found the next checkpoint sealed behind a wall of police cruisers, their flashing lights washing the road in red and blue while the carbon-black shape of a Special Assault Unit tactical van sat across the center lane. Armed officers were already spreading out behind the barricade, and the widening gap between the truck and the traffic ahead made it clear that their ride was about to come to an end.
"Seems our little soirée has reached its final dance," Barbarossa murmured before leaning closer to Rekka's ear. "I'd tell ye it's been a pleasure, but I've never been fond of spinnin' tall tales. Ye've been weighed, lass, ye've been measured, and I'm sorry to say ye've been found wantin'. Best stick to calmer waters until ye've earned yer sea legs, because the deep will swallow girls like ye without ever rememberin' their names."
"Until then, ye can—"
Rekka's hands clamped around Barbarossa's arms before she could finish, and when the pirate queen raised her head, she found Rekka glaring back at her through her one open eye.
"Like I said, shut your goddamned pirate trap!" Rekka screamed as she drove her forehead into Barbarossa's face.
The blow caught Barbarossa completely off guard, splitting the skin above her brow and sending blood spraying between them as her hazel eyes widened. Rekka wrapped both legs around her waist, threw herself backward, and caught the container roof with her hands, using the motion to pull Barbarossa over with her and drive her face-first toward the steel.
A deafening clang rang across the container, and a savage grin spread across Rekka's face, only to disappear when she realized Barbarossa had stopped the impact by bracing herself against the roof with both hands. They hung upside down for a breath, Rekka's legs still locked around her waist while the road blurred beneath the edges of the speeding truck.
"Well now, seems there's still a little fight left in ye after all," Barbarossa said, blood running from her brow as her grin returned. "Pity the curtain's already comin' down."
She twisted sharply inside Rekka's grip, tore herself free from the hold, and swung downward with one leg extended. Her boot smashed across Rekka's face, crushing her nose and sending another burst of blood across the roof as she pitched forward.
Barbarossa followed before Rekka could regain her balance, turning through one kick after another with the same relentless rhythm that had carried her through the entire fight. One heel slammed into Rekka's ribs, another cracked across her jaw, and the next folded into her stomach before Barbarossa spun upright and launched herself into the air. Her body twisted above the container, and her final kick swept across Rekka's face with enough force to empty the light from her eyes.
Rekka's body went limp and began toppling over the side, but Barbarossa caught her by the arm before she could disappear beneath the truck. For a moment, Rekka hung above the rushing road, blood dripping from her face while Barbarossa held her with one hand.
"Consider this a courtesy from one racer to another," Barbarossa said, her smirk sharpening as she looked down at her unconscious opponent. "It be the only one ye're gettin' from me."
Barbarossa swung Rekka clear of the semi's wheels and released her toward the lower roadway beside them, but instead of striking the asphalt, the unconscious uma crashed onto the flatbed of a small truck travelling in the adjacent lane. Her body landed across a discarded mattress with enough force to make the springs groan beneath her, and the driver gave a startled cry as the sudden impact sent his vehicle swerving wildly before he wrestled it back under control.
"Be seein' ye, lass," Barbarossa called, raising two fingers in a casual farewell while the semi continued carrying her toward the police barricade. The confident grin she had worn throughout the race remained carved across her face as she turned toward the growing wall of flashing lights ahead. "Now then, let's see what we can do about that pesky little blockade."
She sprinted across the length of the container, leaped onto the roof of the cab, and threw herself over the driver's side. Her fingers caught the upper frame, allowing her to swing down through the window as both boots smashed through the glass and slammed into the driver's face and chest. The man barely had time to cry out before the force hurled him against the passenger seat, blood spraying across the upholstery as consciousness vanished from his eyes.
"Beggin' yer pardon, mate, but I'll be commandeerin' this vessel," Barbarossa said as she tore the buckle free from his waist and kicked the passenger-side door open.
The driver cried out when she seized his shirt and threw him from the cab, sending him crashing onto his back before he rolled helplessly across the asphalt. Barbarossa immediately looped the seat belt around the broad steering wheel and locked it tight enough to hold the semi on course, then snatched a metal thermos from beside the seat and wedged it firmly against the accelerator.
"Full sails ahead!"
The engine answered with a deafening roar as the semi surged forward, its heavy frame slamming into the cars trapped ahead. Steel folded beneath the impact, windows burst into glittering fragments, and frightened screams rose from the surrounding drivers as the truck shoved their vehicles aside without losing momentum.
Barbarossa looked through the windshield and found the officers at the barricade scrambling into position with their weapons drawn, though the civilian cars caught between them and the charging semi left their fingers hovering uncertainly over the triggers. The truck continued forward with the relentless force of a tank, crushing bumpers, twisting frames, and forcing wrecked vehicles together as it carved a path toward the checkpoint.
Leaving the steering wheel bound in place, Barbarossa climbed back through the ruined window and hauled herself onto the roof of the cab. She lowered her body against the rushing wind and braced herself as officers shouted warnings from behind the cruisers, but the semi only gathered more speed while the thermos held the accelerator down. The officers opened fire, sending a storm of bullets into the front of the semi as sparks burst from the grille and the windshield shattered beneath the barrage. Rounds tore through the radiator with a violent hiss, punched through the steel around the cab, ripped apart the dashboard, and shredded the seats into clouds of fabric and foam, yet despite the punishment being poured into it, the truck never slowed.
The officers finally scattered, including those in full tactical armor, abandoning their positions with cries of alarm moments before the semi smashed through the barricade. Police cruisers were hurled aside beneath the truck's reinforced front, spinning away in showers of sparks and shattered glass, while the armored tactical van took the full force of the impact against its front quarter. Part of its frame tore away and remained tangled beneath the semi as the vehicle continued roaring forward.
Barbarossa offered the fleeing officers a two-fingered salute before leaping from the roof. She struck the roadway boot first, carrying the impact into a rolling tumble, and returned to her feet without surrendering more than a few strides before accelerating back into her sprint.
Behind her, the unmanned semi thundered through the intersection beneath a red traffic light and crashed headlong into one of the concrete supports holding up the freeway. The cab collapsed around the pillar, steel twisting inward while every remaining window exploded, and the rear of the container lifted several feet from the road before slamming back down with enough force to shake the surrounding cars.
A deafening explosion tore through the night as the truck disappeared inside a swelling ball of fire. Passing drivers stamped on their brakes, tires shrieking against the asphalt while burning debris scattered across the intersection behind Barbarossa.
She raced along the roadway and slipped between the slowing traffic, her tracking device pulsing emerald against her wrist as the checkpoint confirmed beneath her feet. "Where be me bearin's?" she asked, barely sounding winded as she cleared the wreckage.
"Two hundred meters along the Kōshū Kaidō, Cap'n, then hard to starboard down Nishisandō," her navigator replied, the rapid tapping of keys carrying through the comms. "That little wreck of yers has stirred the whole damned harbor. The fleet's turnin' yer way, and the Armada's already mobilizin'."
"Let them try," Barbarossa said, her grin widening as she threaded herself between two cars and vaulted over the hood of another. "This ship be too swift for either of them to catch. What news have ye got on Yamino and Nightingale?"
"They're several clicks astern, but there be somethin' strange about their course," the navigator answered.
Barbarossa's eyes narrowed with interest while her pace remained unbroken. "Strange how?"
"They've entered a construction site and started racin' up through an unfinished buildin'," the navigator said, hesitation creeping into her words. "I can't tell what they be plannin', Cap'n, but Yamino's bearin' down on Nightingale somethin' fierce."
Barbarossa's smirk sharpened as her boots hammered against the asphalt and the burning wreckage dwindled behind her. "Is she now?" she asked, releasing a low chuckle while the city opened ahead. "Then let's see which one of them reaches the end of this little hunt alive, shall we?"
****
Dahlia burst onto the twelfth floor and found herself exposed to the open sky, surrounded by unfinished concrete, skeletal steel girders, and lengths of rebar reaching toward the skyline while the lights of Shibuya glittered around her like a field of distant stars. The biting autumn wind cut across her cheeks as she sprinted over the broad, unfinished floor, weaving between coils of rebar, roughly built worktables hammered together from unsanded planks, and tools abandoned among cables that snaked across the dust-coated concrete beneath the amber glare of temporary work lights.
Yamino came charging out of the stairwell behind her with a furious growl, skidding through the dust and nearly stumbling beneath her own momentum before forcing herself upright and continuing the pursuit. Dahlia never looked back for more than a second, because her attention remained fixed upon the yellow framework of the tower crane standing beyond the edge of the building.
"End of the line, Nightingale!" Yamino snarled as she thundered after her. "There's nowhere left for you to run, so lay your tail down and I'll—"
The concrete cracked beneath Dahlia's cleats as she drove herself into a full sprint, gathering speed with every stride while the unfinished edge rushed toward her. She clenched her teeth, lowered her body, and refused to slow even as the floor disappeared ahead. When she reached the end, she launched herself into the open air with a cry, the wind roaring past her ears as she sailed across the gap toward the crane.
Her body struck the steel framework with a deafening clang, and both hands caught one of the horizontal beams before her right grip suddenly slipped. Dahlia cried out as her body swung away from the structure, leaving her hanging hundreds of feet above the street by one straining arm. Her eyes widened when she looked down and saw the traffic reduced to moving specks beneath her, while her breath caught painfully in her throat and the wind pulled at her jacket.
Yamino skidded to a stop at the edge of the floor and stared down into the drop before lifting her gaze toward Dahlia.
Forcing herself to move, Dahlia swung her free hand back toward the crane, secured a second grip, and pulled her body close enough to slip between the steel supports. She caught the ladder inside the framework, planted both boots against the rungs, and looked back toward Yamino with a breathless smirk before raising one hand and giving her the finger. She then turned toward the operator's cabin high above and began climbing.
Yamino's expression twisted with rage as she searched for another way across, and within moments, her gaze settled upon a platform loaded with steel pipes hanging from the crane's hook. The bundled tubes swayed slightly in the wind, still suspended by thick cables that stretched upward into the machinery above.
Her eyes hardened as the beginnings of a plan took shape, and without another moment of hesitation, she turned and sprinted toward the hanging platform.
****
Dahlia wrenched open the door to the operator's cabin and climbed inside, her gaze sweeping across the levers, switches, gauges, and control sticks arranged around the worn chair. None of it meant anything to her, and with Yamino already ascending beneath the crane, she had no time to learn through trial and error. She tapped her earpiece as she dropped into the seat. "Pol, I could use a little help with the controls."
"Um..." Light answered, followed by the rapid tapping of keys. "All right, I cross-referenced the model from the drone footage. Looks simple enough. The control stick on your right handles the hook and trolley, while the one on the left rotates the crane. Before anything else, check for an ignition key above the right-hand controls."
"Found it." Dahlia twisted the key, and the machinery came alive around her with a deep mechanical hum. Lights flickered across the console, motors groaned through the steel framework, and the entire cabin trembled as power surged into the crane.
Her attention immediately dropped toward the unfinished floor below.
Yamino had already leaped onto the suspended platform and planted both boots among the bundled pipes. She kicked the release mechanism with enough force to break it loose, sending the platform crashing onto the concrete while steel tubes spilled across the floor in every direction. Freed from the load, the hook began rising toward the boom with Yamino clinging to it, her furious gaze fixed upon the cabin above.
Dahlia clenched her teeth and pushed the right-hand control forward, moving the hook and its passenger farther along the boom toward the outer end of the crane. Yamino noticed the change immediately and looked toward her through the glass with murder in her eyes.
"All right, I've got it moving," Dahlia said. "Where am I supposed to put this thing?"
"Rotate left," Light instructed. "There should be a building across from you with a large glass skylight covering part of the roof."
Dahlia eased the left control to the side, and the crane began rotating with a long metallic groan. Gears ground beneath the cabin, motors strained through the structure, and the boom swept slowly across the skyline while she searched the buildings below. She finally spotted the one Light had described. An older structure crowned with a broad glass skylight that sat roughly twenty feet beneath the end of the crane.
Dahlia adjusted the controls until the boom aligned directly above it, then shut down the machinery and rose from the chair just as Yamino hauled herself from the hook onto the steel framework.
"Night..." Light said. "Dahlia… whatever you're planning sounds like a really, really bad idea. There has to be another way."
"She's too strong, Light," Dahlia replied as she looked down at her trembling hand and slowly curled her fingers into a fist. "I can't beat her by trading punches, no matter how badass I keep pretending I am. Logan was right about me. I don't fight hard enough to take someone like her head-on, so I'm going to have to fight smarter."
"What could you possibly do from up there?" Light asked.
Dahlia turned toward the window and saw Yamino standing at the far end of the boom, one eye still bloodshot and her expression twisted with rage. A faint smile pulled beneath Dahlia's mask as she reached toward her back pocket.
"I'm going to hit her with the one thing that can strike harder than anything I could ever throw."
"What are you—"
"Gravity."
Silence held over the comms for a heartbeat before Light understood. "Dahlia, you can't mean—"
"Wish me luck, Light. I'm signing off."
Dahlia cut the connection before Light could argue and raced from the cabin, ignoring the navigator's final cry through the earpiece. She seized the ladder beside the door, climbed onto the top of the boom, and pulled herself upright upon the narrow steel structure. The city stretched beneath her in every direction, its streets reduced to glowing lines while the autumn wind tore at her jacket and threatened to steal her balance.
At the opposite end, Yamino watched her approach with one bloodshot eye and fury burning through the other.
"Like I told you, birdie, there's nowhere left to run," Yamino said as she spread her arms and began advancing along the boom. "We can finish this the easy way or the hard way, but do me a favor and choose the hard way, because I'd love to watch you struggle."
Dahlia narrowed her eyes and stepped forward, placing one foot carefully before the other while the crane groaned beneath them.
"Oh?" Yamino tilted her head, visibly amused by the challenge. "You're actually coming toward me? Instead of turning tail and running again, you're walking straight into my hands?" Her smile widened as she continued forward. "Good. That saves me the trouble of chasing you, and believe me, the longer you make me work for it, the worse I'm going to make this."
Dahlia continued closing the distance until her careful steps suddenly became a sprint.
Yamino's eyes widened as Dahlia charged along the boom at full speed, her boots hammering against the steel while the city blurred beneath her. She bared her teeth and planted her feet, preparing to absorb the impact.
"You crazy bitch, what the hell do you think you're going to do?"
A cry tore from Dahlia's throat as she reached behind herself and hurled something flat and black like a discus.
Yamino raised one hand and caught it cleanly, the device slapping hard against her palm. A mocking chuckle escaped her as she glanced toward Dahlia. "Cute. Nice try, but—"
Her words stopped when she looked down and read the white lettering across the black casing.
Her gaze shifted toward the empty socket where the yellow safety pin should have been.
"Oh, fu—"
The Umajacker detonated in her hand, releasing a violent web of blackened steel cables that snapped around her arms, torso, and legs. The wires tightened instantly, pinning her limbs together and wrapping her body inside a rigid metal cocoon.
Yamino's eyes widened as she fought against the restraints, but when she looked up again, Dahlia had not slowed. "You little—!"
Dahlia drove her shoulder into Yamino's chest with every ounce of strength she had left, carrying both of them over the edge of the boom.
They fell together through the open air.
Yamino screamed as the crane vanished above them, while Dahlia grabbed hold of the larger uma and held on against the rushing wind. The glass skylight expanded beneath them with terrifying speed, and as Dahlia braced herself behind Yamino's bound body, one final thought cut through the panic racing across her mind.
"Oh, this is going to hurt."
They struck the skylight hard enough to obliterate it.
Glass, steel, and framing timber exploded around them as they tore through the roof and crashed into the floor below. Dahlia clung to Yamino and kept the larger uma between herself and every impact, using her bound body as a shield while they smashed through concrete, ceiling panels, furniture, and lighting fixtures.
They tore through an office floor in a storm of shattered desks and splintered walls before the concrete beneath them gave way again. The next level collapsed beneath Yamino's back, sending both umas crashing through another room as rubble scattered across the screaming occupants. They burst through a mahjong table on the floor below, flinging tiles, chairs, and drinks in every direction while the players threw themselves away from the collapsing ceiling.
Every impact sent another violent shock through Dahlia's body, but the adrenaline surging through her veins kept the pain distant and shapeless. Floor after floor broke beneath them, each one disappearing inside an avalanche of fractured concrete, shredded wiring, wrecked furniture, and shattered appliances while screams followed their descent through the building.
Dahlia lost track of how many levels they had fallen through before the final floor collapsed.
They crashed into a row of store shelves with enough force to fold the metal frames beneath them, sending bottles, bags of chips, and packaged food bursting across the room. Dust and smoke rolled through the ruined store while alarms shrieked somewhere beyond the ringing in Dahlia's ears.
She coughed and forced herself away from Yamino, every muscle in her body screaming as she rolled onto one knee. Warm blood ran from her forehead and slipped beneath the edge of her mask, but she pushed herself upright anyway, swaying unsteadily amid the wreckage.
The world around Dahlia moved without sound, reduced to distant shapes shifting behind the piercing whistle inside her skull, and as her vision slowly steadied, she searched through the haze for any sign that Yamino was still moving. She found the larger uma sprawled motionless across the shattered checkered floor, her red and white jumpsuit stained dark with blood and torn open in several places where glass, steel, and concrete had shredded the fabric during their fall. Blood covered her face and ran from beneath her mask, trailing from the corner of her mouth and gathering against the tiles, but the slow rise and fall of her chest confirmed that she was still alive.
Dahlia staggered away from her, breathing heavily while the ruined store swayed around her and every movement sent another wave of pain through her body. It took several seconds before she realized where they had landed, though the shelves of scattered snacks, humming refrigerators, and collapsed displays eventually made it clear that they had crashed into a convenience store.
She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling and saw the enormous hole they had torn through the building, its jagged edges opening into floor after floor of broken concrete above. Bewildered faces peered down through the gaps while others looked upward from the surrounding rooms, and small pieces of stone continued falling through the opening, striking the floor with soft, irregular ticks.
Behind the counter, a young uma in a convenience-store uniform stood pressed against the shelves with her eyes wide and both hands clutched against her chest. Dahlia offered her a bloodied smile and an awkward wave before turning toward the entrance, though every step forced her to fight for balance as she crossed the wreckage.
"Night, Night!" Static crackled through her earpiece before Light's voice finally broke through. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
"I read you loud and clear, Pol." Dahlia pressed two fingers against the comm and winced as she bent backward, a series of sharp cracks running along her spine. "But God, that was unbelievably stupid. Everything freaking hurts."
"Are you all right?" Light asked. "Is anything broken?"
"I honestly don't know," Dahlia admitted as she shook out one leg, rolled both shoulders, and flicked her tail behind her while broken glass and splintered wood crunched beneath her boots. "Everything still moves well enough, so I'm calling that a win for now."
"Good, because you and Barbarossa are the only racers left."
The glass doors slid open as Dahlia stepped outside, and the cool night air struck her bloodied face. "Wait, what?"
"Rekka's out, and after what you just did, Yamino is too," Light explained. "From the footage I saw, she took Rekka apart like it was nothing. She uses some strange kind of martial art, though it looks more like she's dancing than fighting."
"Sounds a hell of a lot like capoeira," Dahlia said, muttering a curse as she started down the sidewalk. "Shit, fast aside, she's also been hiding an ace up her sleeve this whole time." She glanced toward the tracker on her wrist. "How far ahead is she?"
"About half a kilometer, but you'll need to take a slight detour to clear your next checkpoint," Light replied. "I can route you there, but Night, before we keep going, I need you to promise me something."
Dahlia slowed slightly. "What is it?"
"If you reach the point where you can't continue, you throw in the towel," Light said. "I don't want to see you try anything else as insane as what you just did. I want you to win more than anyone, but I won't guide you into your grave. I can't… and I won't."
"Hey." A softer smile formed beneath Dahlia's mask as she listened. "Have I given you any reason to doubt me yet?"
Silence answered from the other end, and Dahlia's expression hardened with conviction as she continued toward the road. "We're all going home together, Pol, no matter what happens, and when we do, we're going home as champions."
Light released a slow breath through the comms. "Okay, all right. You're on Yoyogi Four-chome now, so head north and stay on the route I'm sending. It'll take you straight toward Barbarossa."
"Roger that."
Dahlia started forward, only to stop when something beside the convenience store caught her attention. A white bicycle rested against the glass wall, its frame untouched despite the destruction behind her, and she immediately crouched beside it, wrapped both hands around the roller chain threaded through the gears, and pulled until the links groaned beneath the strain. With one final wrench and a sharp cry of effort, the chain tore free from the mechanism.
She wound the broken chain several times around her fist, tightened the remaining length against her palm, and rose as the next checkpoint mark flashed across her tracker. The final stretch waited ahead, with only one racer left between her and the finish line, and Dahlia drove herself back into a sprint before the pain could convince her to stop.
****
The drone footage replayed across the projector screen from several different angles, showing the instant Nightingale drove Yamino from the crane and sent both of them plunging through the glass skylight below. Despite the warm air flowing from the vents, the karaoke room seemed to have fallen beneath an icy chill, and every girl sat frozen in place with widened eyes and parted lips, as though the sight had turned the blood in their veins to ice. Glasses remained suspended halfway to waiting mouths, handfuls of popcorn stopped before they could be eaten, and gestures that had begun in laughter or disbelief never reached their end, leaving every smile, smirk, and half-formed joke erased beneath the same stunned silence.
Melody and Gurren could do nothing but stare at the screen with the others, their expressions locked into the same hard disbelief. Melody had raised one hand over her mouth the moment Nightingale fell, but no sound came through her tightened throat, and as the footage continued replaying the descent, she remained petrified in her seat, unable to look away. For several long moments, it felt as though the entire room had stopped breathing with her, and no one dared to speak.
Beside the footage, the superchat erupted into an endless flood of shocked emojis, frantic questions, and messages filled with disbelief and fear, each line racing past so quickly that no one could read more than a few words before it vanished beneath the next wave. Nyami's avatar remained frozen beside the replay with her eyes widened and her mouth slightly open, the model continuing to shift and breathe even though no voice came through, as though the woman behind it had been left every bit as speechless as the audience.
"Oh my God," Nyami finally managed, stripped of its usual bubbly confidence as she stared at the screen. "Maji, what even was that? I mean, I don't even know what I'm supposed to say right now, because the chat is, like, totes losing it, and honestly, same."
"Are they all right? Are they even alive?" Nyami continued as her gaze darted across the flood of messages racing beside the footage. "I don't know, fam, I seriously don't, because this is, like, way too freaking crazy right now." Her animated ears twitched sharply while her tail whipped behind. "I've seen some totes wild stuff happen during MRA races, but this is on a whole different level, and the scary part is that we haven't even reached the craziest part of the race yet."
She turned back toward the replay, her expression tightening as the footage showed the shattered skylight once again. "Chat, what do you think? Are they okay? Can anybody see them moving, because you're all typing so fast that I can't even, like, read half of this?"
"No..." The word slipped from one of the girls seated on the couch as she pressed both hands over her mouth, her eyes still stretched wide with horror while the footage replayed Nightingale and Yamino vanishing through the skylight. "She can't be..."
"That was an extremely long fall," the uma beside her said, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose without taking her gaze from the screen. "Even if she survived the initial impact, the injuries alone may be severe enough to keep her from continuing." She folded her arms and released a strained sigh, though the tension in her shoulders betrayed how badly the scene had shaken her. "Honestly, what kind of lunatic would even consider a strategy like that?"
"A desperate one," Gurren interjected, drawing every eye in the room toward her as she leaned forward with her elbows planted against her knees and her fingers steepled beneath her chin.
Her ears twitched while her tail gave a slow, unsettled flick behind her. "Yamino's already proven that she has absolutely no problem taking people out, whether they're fellow racers, cops, or probably some poor grandmother crossing the street at the wrong place and the wrong time. More importantly, she knows how to hold a grudge, and once she decided Nightingale had humiliated her, she wasn't going to stop until one of them couldn't get back up."
Melody hesitated with her ears splayed low before lifting her crimson gaze toward the screen. "I hate admitting it, but Gurren's right. If Nightingale had kept running, Yamino would've worn her down and eventually taken her out anyway."
She drew a quiet breath as the others turned toward her. "The rules around rough play are a lot looser in America than they are here, and I remember my mom saying in an interview that you can't spend an entire race playing defense once someone marks you from the gate. She was never known for dirty racing, because that reputation belonged to someone else among the Fifteen, but when things turned ugly, every uma was still expected to hold her ground and know how to push back."
Several expressions around the room shifted toward alarm, and Melody immediately noticed how her words had sounded. She raised both hands and waved them frantically. "I didn't mean racers are supposed to start physically assaulting each other in the Twinkle Series," she clarified, heat rising into her face.
"I meant they're expected to defend their line, refuse to be bullied off the track, and answer pressure with pressure." Her hands slowly lowered as an embarrassed sigh escaped her. "That being said, it's like any other sport, because technically, it's only a foul if somebody catches you."
Gurren nodded solemnly before turning back toward the motionless image on the screen. "Either way, if both Yamino and Nightingale are out, they might as well call the race now, because—"
"Hold up, hold up!" Nyami's voice suddenly burst through the speakers as the drone camera descended toward the sliding doors of the battered convenience store. The glass panels opened, and
Nightingale emerged through the entrance, bloodied and unsteady but unmistakably standing on her own two feet. "It's Nightingale! Fam, look, it's totes Nightingale, and she's alive!"
The mood inside the karaoke room transformed in an instant. The grim silence shattered beneath a deafening cheer as several girls sprang from their seats with both hands thrown into the air, while others clapped, whistled, or grabbed one another in relief. Gurren's stern expression opened into a brilliant smile, and Melody lowered the hand she had been holding against her chest as a wide grin spread across her face.
"And we've got official confirmation, babes!" Nyami continued, her avatar bouncing wildly while the portraits of Rekka Blaze and Yamino Breaker faded into monochrome and were stamped with glowing red crosses. "Rekka Blaze and Yamino Breaker are both officially out of the Shibuya Stakes, which means we are, like, down to our final two racers!"
Captain Barbarossa's portrait flared to life beside Nightingale's, both framed in brilliant light while the names of the eliminated racers receded into the background. "Captain Barbarossa versus Nightingale, fam! Tell me that isn't totes yabai!"
Another round of whistles filled the karaoke room, though the excitement was joined by several miserable groans from the girls who had just realized their chosen racers were gone and their allowances for the month had disappeared with them.
"This is it, fam, the final stretch!" Nyami declared as the broadcast shifted to drone footage of Barbarossa charging down the roadway, carving through a sharp turn before accelerating into the next straight. "Barbarossa's holding the lead right now, and Nightingale has, like, a lot of ground to make up after that absolutely psycho crane stunt, but anything can still happen. We should be getting the finish-line location any moment now, along with our special little surprise, and I am seriously so excited I could scream. What about you, fam? Flood the chat and tell me who you think is taking the crown!"
"Damn, talk about a rush," Gurren said as she leaned back against the couch, the smirk returning to her face while the race markers moved across the screen. "The Twinkle Series has nothing on this."
Melody chuckled as her tail flicked behind her. "Careful, Gurren, because you're starting to sound like you're thinking about joining the MRA."
She expected a laugh, a scoff, or some immediate denial, but Gurren's expression instead became strangely thoughtful as she continued watching the screen. The smile gradually slipped from Melody's face. "Wait, you aren't seriously considering it, are you?"
"What? No!" Gurren's eyes widened as she turned toward her. "Of course, I'm not. I'd never—" She stopped when Melody raised an eyebrow, then sank farther into the couch with a defeated sigh. "All right, I've thought about it, but thinking about something doesn't mean I'd actually do it. I hate admitting this, but I don't have the nerve for the MRA."
Her gaze returned to the footage as Nightingale's marker began moving again. "I like everything it represents, the money, the danger, the freedom, and the kind of rush you could never get on a sanctioned track, but I also know I wouldn't last five minutes out there. You saw what happened tonight, and I'd probably get flattened before reaching the first checkpoint."
Melody studied her for a moment before a quiet laugh escaped her. "Yeah, you and me both."
Gurren's smile returned, though it carried more sincerity than amusement this time. "I guess that's why part of me admires them so much. I'm not saying every girl in the MRA is some rejected Tracen washout, but a lot of them are the girls the world decided weren't good enough for the turf. They were told to give up on their dreams, accept that they had failed, and quietly disappear while everyone else moved on without them."
Her grin widened as Barbarossa's portrait flashed against Nightingale's. "Instead, they gave the world the finger and took their dreams into the streets, no matter how dangerous it became or how much it cost them, and you have to admit that takes guts."
Melody nodded slowly as her eyes followed the two remaining markers winding through Shibuya. "Who do you think is going to win the Stakes?"
"Honestly?" Gurren tilted her head as she considered the distance between them. "My money's still on Barbarossa. If Nightingale's going to beat her, speed and skill won't be enough, because she's going to need a miracle."
"Yeah," Melody said, her gaze sharpening as a determined smile formed across her lips. "But I'm still holding on, because I know she can do it."
****
The convenience store lay buried beneath a wasteland of rubble, shattered shelving, and scattered merchandise, with torn bags of potato chips spilling across the black-and-white checkered floor beside dented cans of preserved fruit, crushed containers of peanuts, and packets of instant ramen reduced to brittle fragments beneath the debris. Overhead, halogen lamps dangled from exposed wires and flickered unevenly through the dust, filling the ruined store with a sickly light while the air carried the mingled stench of powdered concrete, burst sauce packets, and instant coffee leaking from ruptured cans. Brown puddles spread between broken tiles and fallen bricks, thickening into muddy sludge as they mixed with dirt, sand, and fragments of plaster.
The convenience-store attendant cautiously emerged from behind the counter and inched toward the enormous uma lying amid the wreckage, her ears twitching nervously while her tail swept from side to side behind her. She had barely taken another step when Yamino's eyes snapped open.
The attendant shrieked and stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a collapsed display as Yamino looked down at the blackened steel cables still wrapped tightly around her body. She drew a deep, ragged breath, bracing herself against the fractured floor, and began forcing her arms apart. The wires groaned beneath the strain, their metallic tension rising into a shrill whine until Yamino roared and tore them away from herself in a violent burst of strength. Broken lengths of cable fell around her with a series of heavy clangs while she remained on her back, shoulders rising and falling beneath every labored breath.
Pain filled every inch of her body, stretching from the ends of her toes to the tips of her ears, and when she coughed, blood sprayed from behind her mask and splattered across the rubble. Yamino had survived enough fights to recognize broken bones and torn muscles, and she knew without question that this was the worst beating she had ever endured. Not even the times she had fought entire gangs of delinquents or charged through rows of yakuza grunts had left her hurting half this badly, and none of her previous MRA runs came close, because she had always been the one inflicting the pain, shattering bodies, and leaving others broken behind her.
She reached for the edge of her mask and slowly pulled it beneath her chin, revealing bloodied teeth and a split lip, and despite the agony burning through every breath, a smile began spreading across her face.
****
Several miles away, Rekka sat slumped inside a public restroom with her back pressed against the far wall, leaving dark streaks of blood across the tiles beneath her. One arm remained wrapped around her stomach while her other hand loosely held her mask, and every breath entered her lungs in a sharp, uneven gasp before she leaned forward and spat another clot of blood onto the floor.
The irony of where she had ended up was not lost on her.
The last time she had found herself broken, bleeding, and alone inside a place like this had been the day the final remnants of her innocence were stripped away, and now, after everything she had done to become stronger, she had somehow returned to almost the exact point where she began. A strangled laugh slipped from her throat as she rested her head against the wall and stared into the harsh halogen lights glaring down from the ceiling.
Even through the putrid odor of a restroom that had long needed repairs and several buckets of bleach, Rekka found herself smiling.
****
Miles apart and surrounded by the wreckage of their defeat, Yamino and Rekka released the same breathless laugh.
"Heh," they murmured, almost in unison. "She got me. She got me good."
****
"You're in the final stretch, Cap'n!" the navigator cried through the comms, bright with urgency over the rapid clatter of keys. "Ye've reached Yoyogi Three-chōme-Fifty Two, the finish line be barely one click ahead, and there ain't a navy vessel in sight. The whole damned sea belongs to ye now, Cap'n, so take it!"
Barbarossa's smirk widened as she thundered down the roadway, her cleats hammering against the asphalt while she slipped past the surrounding cars at a speed that left startled drivers with barely enough time to register her presence. Sweat had soaked through the scarf beneath her tricorn, darkened the collar of her shirt, and gathered beneath her mask, while the cold autumn wind clawed across her cheeks until the skin had gone numb.
Her heart pounded against her ribs, every muscle in her body ached beneath the punishment of the race, and her legs had grown heavier with every passing stride, but she refused to surrender even an inch of speed when the victory she had spent so long chasing was finally within reach.
This was her final opportunity to claim the one race Queen had denied her and carve another victory into the legend she had built across the streets. The MRA had already learned the name Captain Barbarossa, but before the night ended, she intended to make certain it was the only name in Japan worth remembering.
Queen would be forgotten, Rekka and Yamino would become little more than wreckage left along her course, and even the monster reigning at the summit of the Blacklist would eventually be dragged from its throne. Barbarossa would be the racer the world remembered, because she would force it to understand that the most terrible monsters were rarely born that way. They were created by the hands of those who broke them and then abandoned them in the dark.
A memory surfaced without warning, carrying her far from the concrete and screaming engines to a quiet beach where a much younger Carioca sat beside her grandfather. His hand was rough and calloused against the top of her head, though his eyes looking down at her were filled with nothing but warmth.
"Listen mi likkle Carioca," he had told her. "Di world might rough an' wicked, but dat nuh mean yuh haffi become rough an' wicked wid it. Even when it a try pull yuh down inna di dark, mi know yuh heart always a go show yuh di way back home, y'hear?"
Barbarossa closed her eyes for the briefest moment as her jaw tightened, allowing the memory to remain until the roar of traffic pulled her back into the race.
"I'm sorry, Pupa, but yer little gal was claimed by the depths a long time ago," she murmured, opening her eyes as the road stretched before her. "She drowned while the whole damned world stood watch and let the sea take her, and now there be no Carioca left to guide home. There's only Barbarossa, and upon the graves of every soul that came before me, I swear I'll drag this cursed world into Davy Jones' Locker with me."
"When the pressure crushes their bones, the darkness steals the last breath from their lungs, and the cold teaches them there ain't no light waitin' above, they'll finally understand what true despair feels like." Her expression darkened beneath the brim of her tricorn. "They'll understand it exactly as I did."
"Cap'n!" her navigator suddenly shouted, panic cutting through the comms. "There be somethin' comin' up behind—"
The shriek of cleats grinding across asphalt tore through the traffic, followed by the rancid stench of burnt rubber drifting over the road. Barbarossa looked over her shoulder and saw a black-clad figure carving through a sharp right turn onto the main street, leaning so close to the asphalt that she seemed moments from losing control before snapping upright and accelerating into pursuit. A length of roller chain rattled around her clenched hand as she ran, her dark eyes fixed upon Barbarossa with an intensity that cut through the distance between them.
The pirate queen's grin spread wide, though a thread of nervous excitement now tightened beneath it as she watched Nightingale begin closing the gap.
"About time ye showed yer face," Barbarossa called, turning her gaze forward without easing her pace.
Their eyes met across the rushing traffic, and her grin sharpened into a challenge.
"Little bird!"