Burnline Confessions.
They say silence is peace.
They've clearly never grown up in a house like mine.
In my world, silence isn't quiet. It's control. It's legacy breathing down your neck in the shape of a name carved on silver plaques, championship cups, and pressure-laced traditions.
So when my uncle, Yuto Kurosawa, steps into my training bay and says nothing—
It's louder than thunder.
He watches me drift the practice loop five more times before I pull the brake and step out. No greeting. No praise. Just that tight, unreadable expression he's perfected.
> "You've been distracted," he says flatly.
I don't respond. I've learned not to answer statements disguised as accusations.
> "You gave Reyes the outside line in Eclipse. You drifted clean, but not tight. Intentional?"
I narrow my eyes. "If you're implying I let him close, I didn't."
> "Didn't say you did." He folds his arms. "But you didn't shut him out either."
I wipe my gloves on my jacket. "He's good. I adjusted. That's how you win."
He stares at me for a second longer than comfort allows.
> "You know who he is?"
That hits differently.
I keep my voice measured. "A racer."
> "That's not what I asked."
I don't answer. Not because I don't have one. But because suddenly, I don't trust his.
Yuto sighs, steps closer. His tone softens—not with affection, but with caution.
> "You don't need to understand him. Just know this—names like Reyes aren't forgotten in our world. They're erased for a reason."
He turns and walks away like he's said enough.
But he hasn't.
He's said just enough to light a fuse I wasn't even aware existed.
And now I can't stop wondering…
What was Axton erased from?
---
The Underburn isn't a place people drive through.
It's a place you don't come back from.
And yet here Axton was — drifting slow, silent, headlights dimmed, hood down. Streetlights here don't work. The graffiti on the walls reads more like confessions than art.
He parks.
The garage he pulls into is half-burned, rusted shut in places. But the back door's still loose. Still unlocked, like it remembers him.
The man waiting inside definitely does.
> "Thought you were dead," the old tuner says, not looking up from his cracked workbench.
> "I might be," Axton replies.
The man chuckles darkly. "Ghosts usually don't come back in Skylines."
Axton walks across the room slowly. Everything smells like gasoline, memory, and regret.
> "You heard about Eclipse?" he asks.
> "Everyone has. Crowd's screaming your name, even if they don't know who you are yet." The man finally looks up. "But she does, doesn't she?"
Axton doesn't need to ask who.
He nods once.
> "She's dangerous," the tuner says.
> "So am I."
> "She doesn't look it."
> "That's why she is."
The old man sighs. "And you're falling in?"
Axton leans against the wall.
> "I don't fall. I drive."
> "That's what your father used to say," the man replies quietly.
Axton flinches.
Because that name is the one thing he doesn't drive for.
It's the one thing he drives to escape.
---
Later that night, I sit alone in my tower suite overlooking the Eclipse Dome.
My mind should be on the coming event — the Grudge Match. The one they've decided to make public. Mass broadcast. Full sponsor backing. Attendance limit: none.
The city wants blood.
They want Reyes and me at each other's throats.
They're going to get it.
But not for the reasons they think.
I don't want to beat Axton because I hate him.
I want to beat him because he makes me think — about everything I've trained to ignore.
He races without hesitation. Without legacy.
He drives like there's nothing left to lose.
I don't know what that's like.
But part of me wants to.
And that scares me more than losing ever could.
---
As the garage door shuts behind him, Axton Reyes slides into the Skyline and sits in silence.
There's a firestorm coming.
He can feel it in the way the city breathes.
The Grudge Match will put him in front of thousands.
On camera. On record.
In her headlights.
There'll be no hiding after this.
And maybe… he's done hiding anyway.
---
The notification pings at exactly 11:00 PM.
I know what it is before I even check.
[ECLIPSE OFFICIAL: GRUDGE MATCH CONFIRMED]
Participants: Kurosawa Sora vs. Reyes (Alias: "Ghostline")
Location: Eclipse Prime Circuit – Sector Stage Alpha
Access: Unlocked to Public // Sponsored Broadcast
Lap Count: Unlimited. Finish by Fall.
Unlimited.
They want us to go until one of us breaks.
This isn't about winning anymore.
It's about making a spectacle out of two names that were never meant to share the same stage.
I sit at the edge of the bed, gripping the screen until my knuckles tighten.
This isn't what I planned for.
But it's what I need now.
No more questions.
No more silent practice laps.
No more pretending he doesn't get to me.
Tomorrow night, in front of all of them, I'm going to show the city what I'm really made of.
And he's going to learn that even ghosts can be outpaced.
---
He saw the same notification — but not on a screen.
He saw it projected across the Sector 4 skyline, blazing across digital towers like prophecy:
> "BLOODLINE VS GHOSTLINE // GRUDGE CIRCUIT LIVE // ENTRY FREE"
He stood atop a parking deck as it pulsed across the glass towers, cigarette unlit in hand.
The city wanted fire.
It would get ruin.
His foot tapped the hood of the Skyline. Not out of nerves — Axton Reyes didn't get nervous. He got focused.
He knew what this meant.
He knew they'd try to bait him.
To drag him out of the blackout zone.
To name him.
But he'd already accepted it.
The road had chosen its direction.
He wasn't hiding anymore.
Not from her.
Not from them.
Not from the past.
He slid behind the wheel.
The ghost wasn't hiding in the shadows anymore.
The ghost was racing toward the light.
---
I lie awake staring at the ceiling.
Not because I'm scared of losing.
But because I'm starting to wonder—
If he beats me... will I care more than I should?
---
□■□■□■□
There is a moment before collision when the world holds its breath.
A heartbeat before thunder.
A silence that isn't calm—
but calculation.
Axton Reyes.
Sora Kurosawa.
Two names never meant to share the same road.
He hides from the world.
She was bred to rule it.
He is a ghost of wreckage.
She is a machine of precision.
But somewhere between the lines they traced and the stares they refused to return—
something began to slip.
Not love.
Not trust.
But recognition.
And recognition, in their world, is dangerous.
Because once you recognize someone—
you no longer race against them.
You race with them.
Against yourself.
Now the city demands blood.
And blood, in Eclipse, always comes at full throttle.
When they meet on the next circuit, it will not be a race to win—
It will be a race to survive.
---