The fog had not yet cleared as night cast its shadow over the mountain roads. Through the thick cloud of grey smoke, dim lights occasionally shone through, illuminating narrow stretches of tarmac. In this empty, almost non-existent world, the mountains wrapped around the valley like a living creature whose breath made the air tingle. Everything around him was as if frozen, except for the quiet hum of the engine of the old Toyota AE86 as it sped along the winding mountain track.
Inside the car sat Takumi Fujiwara, a lad of 18 with a focused and calm expression. His eyes saw nothing but the road. He wasn't just a driver. He was part of this car, part of these roads. He wasn't thinking about what was waiting for him around the corner. He was only thinking about how to execute the next manoeuvre. How to squeeze his car into the next tight corner without losing speed, without slipping into a cliff.
Takumi didn't know when exactly he had started driving these mountain roads with his father. To him, it was almost synonymous with life. His father, Bunta, had always been in this business. Teaching his son, never giving him a break, passing on his knowledge and perhaps unconscious craving for speed and risk. But for Takumi himself, things were much simpler: the car, the road and him - nothing else mattered.
When he was 13 years old, his father gave him the keys to an old Toyota AE86. That was the moment he realised that his life and the car would be forever linked. His friends didn't know that he delivered tofu every morning to a hotel that was never shown in the anime and manga, but he's been seeing it for 5 years now, just like this mountain road. While his classmates were dreaming of obscure dreams, Takumi knew his path lay in a different direction.
In order to earn money to pump his car, he wrote stories every day, drawing manga from his past life. As a self-respecting reborn - Takumi knew that what mattered to him was not comfort, not luxury. He was a reborn, and in his new life, there was room for only one ideal: speed. He wanted a car that would fulfil his potential on the road, make his heart beat faster and give him a sense of absolute control.
At the end of 1995, there were thousands of cars on the Japanese market, but his choice was unequivocal. He wanted a Toyota Supra. It was a car that was perfect for his purposes - maximum power, perfect handling, and of course, the most powerful drifting potential. While others might pride themselves on the comfort and design of their cars, more important to Takumi was how the Supra felt on the road, how it responded to his actions. He wasn't looking for an easy ride - he wanted rigidity, dynamics and the ability to manoeuvre quickly.
Although the Japanese market at the time was rich in cars like the Skyline, RX-7 or older models, the Toyota Supra was more than just a car to him. It was a challenge. It was a car for those who are not afraid of speed, for those who are ready to tear up the tarmac at every corner and strive to be the best.
But to buy a Supra, you needed money. A lot of money. And it didn't just come. Takumi knew that in order to save up for his dream, he needed to do what he did best - his programming skills. As well as of course knowledge of stories from the future. His knowledge of popular manga like Van Pis or Naruto(for example) was unrivalled in their tight-knit circle of friends.
Everyone around him was talking about career prospects and growth. But to Takumi, it was foreign to him. He no longer wanted to dream of some career in the IT world. He wanted speed. He wanted to be the best. He dreamed of being the best drifter. And it was only these roads and his old car that mattered to him.
This time, as always, the night tracks tested him again. Closer to the horizon, the first light of dawn was barely shining through, but the night was still in full swing. Takumi felt every vibration of the steering wheel, every movement of the car, every change in the angle of the road. This was his element. He felt no fear, despite the tension. Here, amidst the tight turns and winding descents, he was the master of the situation.
- Takumi, remember, the machine won't work for you. It will only respond if you work with it, not against it. - His father's words echoed in his memory, still echoing in the air, penetrating his mind every time he felt on edge.
As he drove a few more kilometres, he noticed lights starting to appear ahead - it was another car. Does it want to compete? No, more like just a random coincidence. But for Takumi, there were no coincidences. He immediately turned on 'drift' when their cars were in the same corner. He knew for sure that was the only way to avoid losing control and staying in the game.
Suddenly, in one of the tight turns, he felt the wheels of his car start to lose traction. It was dangerous. But Takumi didn't flinch. He reacted instantly, added gas, felt the car sliding but not losing direction. It was as if he was merging with the car, becoming one. It wasn't just driving - it was art.
As they came out of the last corner, the car stabilised and his heart calmed a little. This wasn't just a mission. It was a moment when he felt like a winner, even if there were no other competitors in the race.
After all, he didn't chase titles, he didn't seek recognition. In a world where most people sought stability and material success, he was the only one who knew what he really wanted. He wanted to be a drift master, the first to be able to predict the twists and turns of fate without slowing down. He wanted to be the best, and this wasn't just a dream. It was his future.
As the car slowed down and stopped at the edge of the road, Takumi stepped out of the car covered his eyes, then after a moment opened them again and looked around. It was still dark, but his face was glowing with satisfaction. He knew that today he had taken a step towards his dream. A dream that was not just a part of his life, but the meaning of that life.
Takumi Fujiwara was on his way to greatness.