The morning mist still clung to the edges of the familiar dirt trail, now overgrown in places but unmistakably the same. A breath of wind brushed through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and nostalgia. This was X-Zone—not the otherworldly dimension they had once been trapped in, but the original. The patch of wilderness Sho Yamato had named years ago as a kid, when his world revolved around mountain biking and dreaming big.
Now, it was quiet. No more tournament banners. No glowing emblems. Just the crunch of gravel under two sets of wheels.
Sho rolled in slowly, his body leaning forward slightly over the handlebars of Flame Kaiser. The bike had aged with him, but like him, it had been rebuilt and hardened by time. The metallic red glint of the frame caught the slivers of sunlight piercing through the trees. The front tire hissed slightly as it skimmed through a soft patch of dirt.
Behind him, Makoto Shido followed with a steady rhythm, her tires crackling gently as they carved parallel lines beside his. She wasn't wearing anything flashy—just a windbreaker and her signature half-gloves. Her long hair, now tied in a practical ponytail, bounced lightly with each movement.
They didn't speak, not at first.
The silence was reverent.
They'd ridden this course a thousand times, but returning here after everything—they both needed a moment. The air was cooler here, the trees taller, and in the soft light of dawn, it felt like time had paused, allowing them to remember.
At the center of the clearing, nestled between sloped ramps, grind rails, and the remains of an old half-pipe, stood a modest, reinforced shed. It wasn't much to look at—metal siding, two doors, a solar panel mounted on the top—but it had been their base for years. Every bolt and board had been reinforced by Makoto's tools. Inside were spare tires, oil cans, spare chains, water bottles, and a workbench covered in maps and old photos.
Kakeru was already there.
He was hunched over a set of tires outside the shed, goggles propped on his head and a spanner in his hand. As Sho and Makoto approached, he looked up, brushing his bangs aside with the back of a greasy hand.
"So," Kakeru said, standing and wiping his fingers on a rag, "you brought her back."
Sho dismounted, giving the frame of Flame Kaiser a light pat. "She still rides."
Kakeru gave a small, appreciative nod. His gaze lingered on the bike's updated components—the carbon fiber fork, the reinforced shock absorbers, the custom hydraulic brakes. "She rides," he repeated, "but you rebuilt her from the frame up. That's not the same Kaiser we left with."
Makoto smiled faintly, rolling her bike to a rest beside Sho's. "Neither are we."
Sho looked around. The jumps, though overgrown, still curved like they used to. The berms were rougher, but they still guided you if you leaned just right. The path to the north side had collapsed slightly, the wooden bridges weathered and moss-covered.
"This place used to feel huge," he said quietly. "When we were kids."
Kakeru smirked, tossing the rag aside and wiping his palms on his pants. "That's because we were small."
"No," Makoto said softly, her voice distant. "It was big because it mattered. We thought every race, every trail, meant something."
"It did," Sho replied.
He crouched near the dirt, brushing his fingers through a faded line in the soil—one of the old race markers. Beneath the worn path, the groove was still there. He could almost hear the roar of tires, the cheers, the adrenaline. He could hear his younger self yelling, laughing, living.
Kakeru walked over and placed a bottle of water at Sho's side. "I never deleted the maps. I kept all the GPS data. Every race, every corner."
Sho looked up.
"And I kept fixing the place," Makoto added. "Even when no one came back. Just in case."
Sho stood, nodding slowly.
They hadn't just kept it alive. They had protected it.
This was more than just a training ground. It was a graveyard of dreams and the birthplace of everything that made them who they were.
And now, as Sho stared at Flame Kaiser, he saw it again—the faintest flicker, a soft pulse beneath the core.
Sho stood still for a moment, his fingers lightly brushing over the handlebars of Flame Kaiser. His eyes narrowed, catching that flicker—subtle, barely there—but undeniable.
Makoto stepped beside him, her presence quiet but grounding. She didn't ask what he saw. She didn't need to.
Kakeru crossed his arms, his gaze flicking between them. "Still can't let go, huh?" His tone wasn't mocking, more… knowing.
Sho exhaled through his nose and gave a crooked smile. "You sound like you ever could."
Kakeru chuckled, walking back toward the shed, wiping his hands again with that same rag. "Fair."
Sho followed him with his eyes for a moment before speaking again. "So. You're really set on the mechanic path, huh?"
Kakeru shrugged without turning. "I guess someone had to grow up. Not all of us get to become stars."
Makoto leaned against her bike, glancing at Sho, then at Kakeru. "He's not wrong. You've got endorsement deals now. Fans. You barely have time for class."
Sho looked down at the dirt, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. "I try to show up when I can. But between the travel, interviews, qualifiers… It's hard."
Kakeru turned back, eyes narrowing. "And yet, here you are."
Sho looked up at him. "I had to come back. Something's off. And besides…" He looked around at the clearing, at the overgrowth, at the shed they'd built together. "It felt like time."
Makoto's voice was soft. "You mean, it felt like coming home."
Sho didn't answer right away.
Kakeru sat down on a nearby rock, picking up a wrench, but not working with it. Just holding it. His voice was quiet now, too. "I finished my second year. Once we graduate, I'm opening a shop. Custom builds. Rigs like Flame Kaiser, but... better. Smarter."
Sho gave him a sideways look. "Better than Flame Kaiser?"
"Hey," Kakeru said with a smirk, "you upgraded her, didn't you? Let me have my dream."
Makoto laughed—genuine and light, her head leaning toward Sho slightly, her arm brushing his.
Sho didn't move away. His smile deepened, and he nudged her gently with his shoulder. She didn't say anything, but she looked at him like she always did—like he was hers. There was no question. No confusion.
Kakeru watched the exchange, didn't comment. He didn't need to. The dynamic had changed a long time ago. It wasn't a surprise to him—not anymore. The way Makoto looked at Sho when she thought no one was watching, the way Sho instinctively moved to shield her when a branch snapped nearby, even how casually they shared their water bottles now—everything made it obvious.
Sho and Makoto were a couple.
And while it had once felt like a big revelation, now it was just a fact—settled and understood, woven into their friendship without unraveling it.
"Guess that makes me the third wheel now," Kakeru said, not bitter, just honest.
Makoto looked over with a faint grin. "More like our pit crew."
"Oh, great. I get to change your tires while you two flirt on the track."
Sho smirked. "You love it."
Kakeru snorted and shook his head. "I do. But don't get used to the free labor."
Makoto glanced up at the sky. "Classes are starting soon. I'll have lab work stacking up."
"You should've taken the same major as me," Sho said.
Makoto raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one you never show up for?"
"Touché," Sho muttered, mock-defeated.
Kakeru leaned back, his expression more serious now. "You ever think we wouldn't come back here? I mean... the world kept moving. We grew up. I thought we'd forget."
Sho knelt near the old race line again. "I didn't forget. I just... couldn't come back until I was ready."
Makoto's voice lowered, almost like she was admitting it to herself. "None of us were."
And just then, a quiet stillness settled over the clearing. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stilled.
Sho stood. His hand touched the emblem socket again. No glow. But that feeling was back—like something deep beneath the dirt still breathed. Still waited.
They weren't here just for nostalgia.
Something had stirred.
And it was only the beginning.
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END OF CHAPTER : 1 : DUST NEVER SETTLES!
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