After graduating from high school, my environment began to change. So did the way I used my time, and the way I thought.
I already had my license. I had a car. The AE86 was something I washed every day and drove every day.
Still, the decision to head for the mountain pass was something I kept putting off.
Because I already knew— running wasn’t just a game.
If I was going to the mountain pass, I wanted to go when no one else was there.
That was something I had decided from the beginning.
I avoided weekend nights when street racers gathered, and chose a weekday before dawn.
Even back then, I knew. At that hour, almost no one would be on the mountain.
The reason was simple.
I didn’t want to get in the way of other drivers on a mountain pass I had never driven before.
I wanted to find out— how much I could really do, how scared I would be, how unprepared I truly was.
And I wanted to do that without anyone watching.
That night wasn’t special.
No one invited me. There was no event.
I simply thought, “Tonight, I’ll go.”
I started the engine. The sound of the 4A-G felt quieter than usual.
The sky was still dark, lit only by streetlights.
As I reached the entrance of the mountain pass, I hesitated for a moment.
It was a road I had driven countless times before, yet that morning, it looked completely different.
The passenger seat was empty. There was no one to talk to.
The only one holding the steering wheel was me.
The moment I entered the first corner, everything I had imagined fell apart.
I wasn’t fast. If anything, I was scared.
My field of vision felt narrow, and the brakes felt heavier than I expected.
There was no smooth, flowing run like in the manga.
“This isn’t easy.”
That truth hit me clearly.
Still, I didn’t turn back.
I eased off the throttle, braked earlier, and carefully made my way through each corner.
There was no speed. No style.
Only one undeniable fact remained— I was there.
When it was over, there was no sense of accomplishment.
Instead, what remained was a strange silence and a heavy feeling.
“It has begun.”
That was the feeling.
I knew I could no longer return to simply watching from the side.
From that moment on, my time as one who runs had begun.
That pre-dawn run wasn’t fast, and it certainly wasn’t skillful.
But something inside me had clearly shifted that night.
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