Let's eat each other
It echoed, oh, it echoed and resonated through Yasutomoâs mind loud and clear. Had it been a simple passing innocent comment, he would have let it go like the good and responsible adult that he was (not yet butâ), but what just happened was far from being innocent. It was an insult. Worse yet, a declaration of war. As a man, there was no way in hell he could let this end without getting the last word. Â
Without a second to spare, Yasutomo mounted his bike and took off on the chase. The other rider had a head start, but no matter where he went, the motorcycleâs fault of being obnoxiously loud would never fail to give away his position.Â
And the other never could get very far despite his flashy exit from earlier. Having stopped at the red light just ahead, Yasutomo weaved in and out of the stopped cars, a reckless move, just to stop right next to the stranger who too quickly declared the superiority of his motorbike over road racers. First things first, before declaring his intent, he had to let out his personal bit.
"No one wants your shit, you DUMBASS!" Yasutomo scoffed without restraint. He knew he couldnât completely blame the biker for reacting the way he did considering his own actions, but every now and then, he would feel kindhearted enough to be willing to give the populace a valuable lesson. He motioned forward, pointing at the church with its cross standing out high above the other buildings.
"Ya got time to play? Your bike against mine. Simple, yeah?"
"What the...?"
There were two kinds of people that Rano hated: people who did reckless things without any reason, and people who didn't know how to take a joke. The biker kid who now pulled up beside him at the edge of the intersection clearly possessed both of those qualities, and the abrasive comment that erupted from his mouth--dumbass!--did more than just make Rano's blood boil.
Was he really just challenged to a race? Between his motorcycle and the road bike, the handicap seemed impossible... The kid must have been pretty confident in his cycling skills, or incredibly stupid to think that he could even hope to win a race like this. And if the latter was the case, Rano wasn't about to let a chance to crush his naivety slip through his fingers. Â
Well, that settled it, then.
Rano pulled his visor up slightly, his eyes meeting the teen's and emitting a fiery-hot rivalry.
"You're on, you little shit."
In that moment, as if on cue, the stoplight's hues flashed from red to green. Rano wasted no time in accelerating, his motorcycle's engine roaring as he began to speed along the street. The road ahead of him ended in a sharp turn, followed by a downward slope.
Rano knew that cyclists could be quick, but there was no way in hell that his competitor could outmatch the sheer velocity of mechanized horsepower. He'll only last the next thirty blocks, Rano reasoned to himself. The church in question was farther down the road, but that alone didn't mean that he would go easy. He'd show his road rival not to bite off more than he could chew...
