Ever since you got involved in the street racing scene, your life had been a whirlwind of late-night drifts, engine roars, and the thrill of competition. University life felt dull in comparison, and it was through your friendship with Ryosuke Takahashi, leader of the RedSuns, that you were introduced to Gunma’s mountain passes. Ryosuke quickly recognized your passion for cars, especially Subarus, and you soon became an integral part of his circle, even if you weren’t a racer yourself.
It wasn’t long before you met Takumi Fujiwara, Ryosuke’s quiet, skilled protégé. Takumi was different from the other racers—low-key, almost disinterested in the hype, yet undeniably talented. You hit it off quickly, bonding over cars and racing. Though Takumi didn’t attend university, you spent more time with him and the other locals than with your university peers.
One day, after a late-night practice run with Project D, you ended up at the Fujiwara Tofu Shop, Takumi’s home. It was your first time there, and you hadn’t expected much from a small tofu shop in the middle of nowhere. But the moment you stepped inside, you were met with the scent of freshly made tofu and the sight of Takumi’s father, Bunta Fujiwara.
Bunta was a man who exuded a quiet intensity that was hard to ignore. With his gruff demeanor, cigarette always perched between his lips, and sharp eyes that seemed to see right through you, Bunta left an immediate impression. But what really caught your attention was the Subaru Impreza parked outside—a GC8 Coupe, to be exact.
You had always had a thing for Subarus, especially the Impreza. Seeing Bunta’s Impreza, knowing it belonged to someone like him, only fueled your attraction.
From that day on, you found every excuse to visit the tofu shop. At first, you told yourself it was to talk to Takumi about racing or to just hang out. But you knew the real reason was Bunta.
Every time you saw him, you found yourself drawn to his calm, almost indifferent attitude, his deep knowledge of cars, and the mysterious aura that surrounded him. You admired the way he carried himself, his unspoken confidence, and his incredible history as a racer. And, of course, the fact that he drove a Subaru Impreza didn’t hurt either.
Your repeated visits didn’t go unnoticed. Takumi began to wonder why you were suddenly so interested in hanging around the shop. “You’ve been coming around a lot lately,” he mentioned one day. “I thought you didn’t like tofu that much.”
You laughed, trying to play it off. “Yeah, well, it’s not about the tofu. I just like hanging out with you guys.”
Takumi shrugged, accepting your answer without further questioning. But it was when Yuichi Tachibana, the owner of the gas station and an old friend of Bunta’s, began reminiscing about the old days that your interest was piqued even further.
“Takumi’s dad used to be the fastest downhill racer on Akina,” Yuichi said with a nostalgic smile. “Back in the day, no one could beat him. Even now, I don’t think there’s anyone who could match his skill.”
The thought of Bunta being the undisputed champion of Akina only made you more fascinated with him. You couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to see him race, to witness that level of skill firsthand.
After that conversation, your determination to get closer to Bunta only grew. You started spending even more time at the shop, asking Takumi about his dad, trying to learn more about Bunta’s racing history. You even offered to help with the tofu deliveries, hoping it would give you more opportunities to interact with Bunta.
Takumi, oblivious as ever, didn’t suspect a thing. But the truth was, you weren’t just interested in Bunta’s history—you were interested in him. The more you learned, the more you admired him, and the more your feelings grew. It was strange, falling for someone so much older, someone who wasn’t even a racer anymore. But there was something about Bunta Fujiwara that you couldn’t resist.
Days turned into weeks, and your visits to the Fujiwara Tofu Shop became almost a daily routine. Each time you saw him, your heart would race a little faster. You admired the way he moved, the quiet strength in his demeanor, and the subtle way he would light a cigarette with such practiced ease. He didn’t say much, but when he did, his words carried weight. And when he looked at you with those sharp, perceptive eyes, it felt like he could see right through you.
One evening, after another long day of racing talk and delivery runs, you found yourself lingering at the tofu shop long after Takumi had gone to bed. Bunta was in his usual spot, leaning against the counter with a cigarette between his lips, watching you with that same unreadable expression.
“You’re here again,” he remarked, his voice low and gruff. “You must really like tofu.”
You smiled, trying to keep your nerves in check. “It’s not the tofu that keeps me coming back.”
Bunta raised an eyebrow, clearly curious but not showing it overtly. “Then what is it?”
You hesitated, your heart pounding. This was it—the moment you’d been thinking about for weeks, maybe even months. You had never been the type to back down from a challenge, and confessing your feelings to Bunta Fujiwara was the biggest challenge of all.
“I think… I think it’s you,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I keep coming back because I want to see you. Because I like being around you, even if you don’t say much. There’s just… something about you, Bunta, that I can’t get out of my head.”
Bunta’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you. He took a long drag from his cigarette before letting out a slow breath, the smoke curling around his face.
“You realize how much older I am than you, right?” he said, his tone serious. “I’m not some young guy. I’m old enough to be your father.”
You nodded, fully aware of the age gap. “I know. But that doesn’t change how I feel. I’ve never met anyone like you before, Bunta. You’re… different. And I don’t care about the age difference. I just know that I want to be with you.”
For a moment, Bunta didn’t respond. He just looked at you, as if weighing your words, trying to decide whether you were serious or if this was just some fleeting crush. The silence stretched on, making you more nervous by the second, but you refused to back down. You had come this far, and you weren’t about to give up now.
Finally, Bunta sighed, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the counter. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
You managed a small smile. “I guess I am. But I know what I want.”
Bunta shook his head slightly, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. You’ve been hanging around here a lot more than a normal friend would.”
You bit your lip, trying to read his expression. “So… what do you think? About us?”
Bunta was silent for a moment longer, his gaze drifting away from you as if he was lost in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more contemplative.
“You’re young, and you’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he said. “I’ve lived mine. I don’t want to hold you back, and I sure as hell don’t want you to regret getting involved with an old man like me.”
“But I won’t regret it,” you insisted, stepping closer to him. “I’ve thought about this a lot, Bunta. I know what I’m getting into. And I don’t care about any of that. I just want to be with you.”
Bunta looked at you again, his gaze searching, as if trying to find any sign of doubt in your eyes. But when he didn’t find any, he let out another sigh, this time with a hint of resignation.
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asked.
You nodded, your determination unwavering. “Yes. I am.”
For a long moment, Bunta didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you with those deep, piercing eyes. And then, slowly, he nodded.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “If you’re that determined, I won’t push you away. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
A smile broke out across your face, relief and happiness flooding through you. You couldn’t believe it—Bunta was actually giving you a chance.
“I won’t,” you promised, your voice filled with emotion. “Thank you, Bunta. I… I really care about you.”
Bunta gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, his usual stoic expression returning. “Just remember what I said. I’m not an easy guy to be with.”
You laughed softly, the tension finally melting away. “I think I can handle it.”
