(these chapters are super late because of travel so forgive the strange parts of it that you'll inevitably read along with any strange spelling errors! and thank you immensely for 1k reads, u all give me great encouragement with this story w/all ur support. i and the star say a great thank you :)

(EDITED)(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

Given the circumstances that Kane was sick off his ass—even if in denial over it—and Coach was booked from edge to edge with the never-ending press issues, and, now, Kane's worsening condition along with Corvus's rising tension, most of the pressure post-Wednesday had fallen on the somewhat-second-in-command, Rosalie, who was as happy to take on such pressure as you could believe, let alone right before the dawn of Green Diamond.

"I am very happy to take on this pressure as you can believe, even before the dawn of Green Diamond," Rosalie said to us the following Thursday.

Diego said, "Really? Hey, look at you."

Rosalie gave him a glare that could peel the skin off his bones. "No, Diego. No, I am not. Are you an idiot? I think I've become a centerback of a team of idiots."

"Tough crowd," he murmured.

Rosalie rubbed at her temples. "This is going to be the longest van ride of my life, so here's the plan. Everyone gets ten syllables once every hour."

"That's not a plan, that's a dictatorship," Diego gasped.

"Ten syllables right there," she snapped.

"Rosie, you seem tense. You need a back rub? Maybe a letter of resignation from my life?" Diego hissed.

"When you get one from mine."

Kane's symptoms had diluted, but Ramos had said he'd be in bed-exile until next week while the medicine fully kicked in for his system. She'd said it couldn't do much for his eyes and hair, those were likely to stay, but it would at least make him feel pretty normal, and that was as best as she could promise. Granted, it was Kane. Nothing had been promised without a fight.

"I can go," he insisted. "I can at least watch."

"You're staying," Coach replied.

Kane huffed. "Echo got to go watch the games while he was benched for being a little shit and I can't go watch because of a tiny fever?"

"Good to know I'm loved," I muttered.

"Echo was benched for a crappy attitude and a face like a devil. You're sick out of your brain, that's different, and you're not even coherent enough to make it to the kitchen and back without causing some sort of pathetic uproar from these guys,"

"I've got one of those faces," I agreed.

"Shut up, Yun," Corvus snapped.

"You know, I might be a little shit, but at least I didn't try to eat a sock."

"It was next to the soup," Kane muttered. "What is this judgment? Why is everyone so judgy? Let me live my life."

"Please don't let him come," Rosalie said. "I can't deal with that for seventeen hours. I already have to deal with his Thing 2."

"Whose his Thing 2?" I asked. "What's a Thing 2? What's Thing 1?"

Rosalie gestured. "My point exactly."

"You're all gonna put me in therapy," Coach muttered.

"Can it be on the way to Oregon?" Kane murmured.

"It's not even a Green Diamond," Coach tried. "It's just one match."

Kane lifted his head. "I'll give you some of my shoes."

Coach was thoroughly affronted at that. "You're gonna ask me to risk your life in exchange for some shoes?"

"They're nice shoes."

"You're not going."

"You're ruining my life," Kane groaned, and preemptively flopped face-first into his pillow.

It left Corvus without a captain for the match, for the first time in Corvus history.

It felt like most of Corvus would've liked to believe that they would have still been functioning and manageable without Kane, but it was a terribly stark gap that I'd never seen until it was right in front of me. Kane as a captain had an obvious role on the track. It just hadn't occurred to me there was an equal weight to one off the track, too. Kane corralled Corvus, watched them in his peripheral, listened even if he seemed like he didn't, controlled them only to necessity. Being without him was, admittedly, serious chaos.

"I'm hungry," Wynter said. "Hey. Hey, can we get food?"

"We just ate," Rosalie said.

"So? You got food?"

"I think—never mind, he's not here." She sighed. "Er, Coach? Any snacks?"

"I got granola bars and half an apple. You didn't pack snacks? Who packs the snacks here?"

"King," they murmured.

"He's your captain, not your mother, what's wrong with you people?"

Zoe said, "What do we know about University of Oregon?"

"They're damn good and fucking menaces," Diego replied. "I'm forgetting their stats. Zahir, give me the stats."

Zahir paused. "They've got a few Red Diamond wins under their belt, that's what I know. They're top picks for IPRA. Er, captain is slow but strong, and they've got bulky defense.

"And?"

"Are you kidding me?" Coach sighed. "If you tell me King memorizes the stats—"

"He memorizes the stats," Kenzo called.

"I'm terminating your contracts when we get back," Coach grumbled. "Here's the rundown."

At some other point halfway though the ride, Meredith had gotten into a seriously heated debate with the rest of Corvus about the political nature of potato farming. Coach was not having it.

"Did you just throw your shoe at me?" Rosalie cried.

"You insulted my abuelita and her potatoes," Diego snapped.

"Now, now," Meredith tried. "Perhaps Rosie meant potatoes in general."

"I insulted you and your potatoes, you potato!" Rosalie roared.

"Take it back!"

"I hate potatoes," Wynter said.

"Execution," Kenzo replied blankly.

"Execution indeed!" Zoe agreed and looked ready to slap her.

Coach yelled, "Sit down, all of you! Watanabe, Gupta, are you there for decor? Do something!"

Zahir put his hands up. "I don't wanna die, with all due respect, Coach."

Kenzo closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. Coach banged her head on the steering wheel with a regretful groan.

I slumped against the window with a long sigh. Seventeen hours was beginning to feel more like seventy.

"Anyone got an extra charger?" Meredith asked.

"King—oh, low blow to me," Diego murmured.

"What's the background on Oregon anyway? I thought it had some spooky history to it," Zahir said. "King—hey, maybe...text him?"

"Don't bother that kid unless you have to," Coach said, then sighed. "Good grief, guys. Manage yourselves, would you?"

They just hung their heads.

Nine hours in, and heavily delirious, Coach said, "Tell me about the front starboard again."

We paused. I said, "Us?"

Coach went quiet for a long second. She sighed. "I'm losing my head here. Forget it."

We forgot it.

11:22 PM - kane

how's corvus

I stared down at the message with a sigh. I glanced around me, where Zahir had fallen asleep on Wynter who had fallen asleep on Rosalie, who had fallen asleep on Zoe. Kenzo was gazing intently at his phone while Diego and Meredith were half-awake watching a movie likely neither of them knew the contents of. Coach had resorted to a large black coffee to get her through the drive and a bout of alleged metal rock.

I returned to my phone.

11:24 PM - echo (echo)

without u?
they need a pamphlet.

11:25 PM - kane

don't make me lose faith in them so fast
i'm sure they're fine

11:26 PM - echo (echo)

u don't know ur team then
r u any better

11:27 PM - kane

yes

11:28 PM - echo (echo)

oh ur dying huh

11:27 PM - kane

tell me how the match goes
oh, and aster

I stared at the message.

11:29 PM - echo (echo)

who's aster

11:31 PM - kane

old friend. from hs.
i told her i'd be there today to talk, but i'm not. just tell her to call me.
i'd ask other corvus but they'd have a fit
and just talk to her directly

I had garnered very little fine details about Kane's high school friends, but the little I'd heard was enough to convince me none were any good for him. What he wanted with one that Corvus would "have a fit" over, I couldn't know. Nonetheless, it must mean something if Kane was willing to tell me of all people to do it in his stead.

I shut my phone off, and waited for the next day to find me.

University of Oregon, for being called Ducks, were in fact, very menacing.

I'd gone against Coach's wishes to ask Kane about their info, to which he delivered promptly enough to be a warning of their abilities, along with his own warning.

"They're brutes, all of them," he told me over the phone while I stood outside of our breakfast choice of a splendid yellow Denny's. "Pretty sure they're chosen by size first, then skill. It's most of their strategy in any play, so as long as you stay clear of their offense and avoid getting sandwiched between their defense and any obstacle, you'll win."

"So, be faster."

Kane hummed. "That's the racing secret. But don't be frantic. Just be on your toes. Corvus will help you. Kenzo has versed them before. He'll know."

I chewed my lip. "So. Be faster."

"Yes, Echo," he sighed. "Always be faster."

That was only fair.

I'd beaten brutes before, but never a full team of them. And with one body less, we were already outnumbered on top of being outsized. We were less coming in to obliterate and more so to be obliterated. I said so.

"I think we're gonna be obliterated," I said.

Zahir closed his locker with a frown. "C'mon, kid. That's no way to encourage your team."

"Go team! Let's go," I said with a bright grin, "and get obliterated."

"Glad to hear it, cobayo!" Diego called from around the corner. "Obliterate them to pieces."

"You misheard my—"

"Let's go!"

We headed for the stadium.

University of Oregon's Ducks were a slightly confusing rival, as their colors also involved purple, leaving only the black details on Corvus's uniform as the distinction between the two. That, and the fact the entire team had an average height and weight about a foot taller and fifty imperial pounds above ours.

The Ducks were fifth in the NCAA D1 square racing ranks with several Red Diamond wins in their times and countless second or third place trophies aside from those. They consisted of nine racers, two freshmen recruits, two second years, two third or fourth years, and three fifth years including their captain, Ten Neymoore. Their smallest player stood as their center tail at five feet ten inches, 150 imperial pounds. Their biggest capped at six foot seven inches, 210 imperial pounds.

When football or basketball had gone out of season, hell. I didn't know. Curse racing and its beautifully gruesome allure. Nonetheless.

"We're screwed," Wynter said.

"Stop saying that," Meredith corrected. "We are not screwed. We've beat them before."

"Once," Zahir replied. "And that wasn't even all us, half of a different team was here."

"We've versed teams we haven't won against in a while," she argued. "We have a game of leeway."

"Yeah, but how much more leeway? This is the first match, and you know King will have our heads if we lose. Oh, man. He'll rip them all off when we cross the threshold if it kills him," Diego gasped.

"You are not helping."

"Corvus hasn't lost a match in decades," Zoe argued. "I doubt you'll start now."

"Zoe has the attitude," Meredith said with a grin.

I leaned over the railing away from them. Coach was busy setting up her tablet and testing her mic. I took the chance to observe the Ducks across the track, a bright, berry purple eyesore even from two miles away. The scoreboard above us was blank with opportunity, the stadium lights a blaring white spotlight onto the thousands of fans decked out in the same garish purple colors in support of their prime Oregon jewel.

I swung myself over the railing and headed down the stairs. A few fans booed me on the way, but I really didn't have the heart to feel their half-assed scorn. Some Ducks up at the balcony seemed to take notice of my approach, since they soon swung down and landed with a noticeable thud on the concrete track to meet me halfway. 

I stopped a few yards from their bikes. Two boys and a girl came my way. The boys were a foot and half taller than me with hair so black it was nearly blue, the girl nearly as tall as Kane, and so fair she could get sunburn from the freezer light at night. On the breast of her jacket, a crisp 03 TRACEY was printed in pure white, the boys boasting 08 and 04, both with HAN printed under.

She frowned at me, her face soft at the edges but her expression full of pointed corners. She said, "Can I help you?"

I tugged at my collar. "I'm looking for an Aster?"

"Why?" one of the guys behind her snapped.

"Behalf of a Kane King," I said.

They went quiet. The girl's expression faded. "What's Kane King want with Aster?"

"Don't shoot the messenger," I said, holding my hands up.

Tracey considered me. 04 turned to 08, sneering wickedly. He whispered under his breath, "What does Aster want with Kitae?"

Kane's former name sent a shock up my spine. I stared at the two, who looked almost amused now. 08 cracked a sheepish grin at me from under his black bangs and hazel eyes. 04 was busy cracking up at a joke I didn't understand. They were hauntingly identical, from the cut of their hair to the slope of their jaw to their pale lips, each boasting a paper thin scar in the same exact place.

"Sending in the sub, is he," 04 said, turning to face me. "You're Yun, right? Front port sub? Making more waves than any rookie has in years? Good and bad."

I blinked. "I...guess so."

He smacked 08's shoulder. "Shit, he's all grown or something. Hey, where is the guy? I don't think I've seen him miss a match since—hey, never. He's never missed a match. Oh, jeez, is he dying?" He laughed again.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, but the metallic taste did nothing to quell the spike of fury that that comment sent through me. I thought of Kane feverish on his bed, his mouth flooding with red and black, his body clawing for life under the onslaught of elemental poison.

I said, "Where's Aster?"

08 shoved his brother (?) off of him. "We'll get Aster," he said. "Come on."

Tracey frowned at me again but acquiesced to 08 dragging her away. 04 stayed to watch me, his eyes boring into me with dark, deadly intent. I shifted where I stood.

A girl slid from the railing, descended down the stairs. She held her helmet from her fingertips, and her black eyes trained curiously on me. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a low, flat ponytail, her long bangs framing one of the only faces I'd seen today without a trace of animosity. On the breast of her jacket was 06 KIM.

"Echo Yun," she said with a small grin. She stuck out her hand. She wasn't nearly as intimidating as the other three had been, even though she still had half a foot on me. "Pleasure to meet the current talk of the college racing world."

I shrugged, taking her hand with a quick shake. "Wish I wasn't, but thanks."

"I heard you have a message from Kane."

"Kitae" rung like a siren in my ears. "Yeah, Kane wanted me to deliver a quick message, is all," I said. "He's sick, so he couldn't be here. Said you ought to call him about...something or other."

Whatever blanks I hadn't filled in, Aster seemed to be able to, because she lit up a second later with a flash of a grin. "Really? Then he's considering it. That'd be great."

I cocked a brow, but didn't ask. "Yeah, guess so. That's all."

Aster said, "You're quite the rookie racer. How's it? I was so nervous in my first year, I thought I'd just throw up being on the track."

I had the urge to tell her I wasn't really in the mood to chat, especially not with anyone associated with Kane's high school time. But there must've been some good reason Kane even kept in touch with Aster at all, as it was rare golden children kept in close touch with anyone from before second birth. So I swallowed my irritation and said, "It's all right. Corvus is Corvus, you know? They're pretty experienced."

She gave me a strange look at that. 04 remained behind her, watching me like a hawk. If Aster noticed, she didn't mind. "They are great, huh? Now that's elite. But, I hear they're all softer than people think. In a good way, of course."

I shrugged. "Maybe." I stepped back, my eyes darting to 04, who smiled and waved. "Fair match. Good luck."

I returned to Corvus promptly enough, although they'd all noticed my missing by now and were frowning at me when I returned.

"Who were you talking to?" Meredith asked.

"A few Ducks," I said. "Figured it couldn't hurt to scope them out."

They looked amongst each other, unconvinced, but right at that moment was when Nathan—that fucker—came onto the stadium speakers with the dreaded announcement.

"One minute to start! Racers, to the track!" he said.

Rosalie frowned. "No fraternizing with the enemy on our time, Yun. You missed half the damn strategy talk."

I glanced back, but Aster and 04 were gone. I pursed my lips. "I'm sorry. Run it by me?"

"You're the death of me," she murmured, but ran it by.

The plan, considering the fact they were to use six racers against our six, when only half of us were even fair matches against them physically speaking, was pair-reliant that placed pressure on the centers for controlling offensive and defensive lines while fronts and tails paired up to perform combination point grabs. Its risk lied in the team's dynamic itself, and whether or not everyone was up to par with their partner to perform the combos effectively. That, and you risked less points altogether.

"They're saving their subs, and so are we," Rosalie said. "Yun, Zahir, Meredith, and Diego are gonna pair up to against the defense and offense respectively, We're gonna avoid ramps, Zahir and Yun, avoid tunnels, they'll trap you in there. Got it?"

"Got it," we said.

"Good. Now go win."

We grabbed our helmets. Zoe glanced at me. "You gonna be all right?"

I swallowed the taste of silver and blood. I pulled my helmet on tight.

"Yes," I said.

We arrived at our bikes. I swung my leg over, fastened the straps of my helmet, and flicked on the mic and earpiece. The crowd sank through every layer of gear, rattling my bones to dust.

"Welcome, racers and racing fans! Tonight, is the ever anticipated match between Avaldi University's Corvus and University of Oregon's own Ducks, a face-off we have not seen in a very long time!" The crowd roared with approval. Nathan added, "As a reminder to all our racers, this is a good and fair match. All shots, strikes, or maneuvers are permitted except for head shots, equipment tampering of any kind, blocking any racer horizontally, or using gear or bikes as projectiles. You must stay within the white fencing at all times, and any breach of the fencing will end the lap as a lap foul. No drugs, alcohol, or any unauthorized substances are allowed on the track, along with weapons or tools of any kind. If you're found with any of these during the match, you and your team will be immediately disqualified."

With that, the ref signaled the start of our engines. The roar of metal beasts under and around me flooded my veins with the rumble, a shock of adrenaline like fresh nicotine spiraling up my body. I tightened my fists around the handlebars. My heart was splayed out on the road, right at the finish line, beating like a madman.

"Ready, racers! On your mark!"

I held my breath, pushing my face shield over my eyes. The whole world zeroed in on concrete and stadium lights and hundreds on hundreds of obstacles.

"Three!

"Two!

"One!

"Go!"

So, for as long as we've known each other, let's all be very crystal clear here. In most situations, given context, size doesn't matter.

But this is not one of those situations.

"You have to be fucking with me," Rosalie spat just as 04 smashed his way right past Kenzo in order to send him reeling into the nearest wall, nearly smashing the front of his bike to pieces. "It's been three minutes, quit stalling, start pairing!"

"Yes, ma'am," I murmured.

"Yun, circle around the log, trap Melville, we'll crush him from outside in," Zahir said.

I steered my bike to the left, going for the logs. Zahir headed around the ramp and led Melville towards the pillars. My tail, Taylor, was a bit of a vicious type and raced as sloppy as he was brutish, his arms swiping wide and deadly at me with every turn. Screw Kane and his militant gym agenda. Keeping my fucking life on the track was enough of a damn workout.

I curled around several poles as Taylor rode alongside me. The spikes on his gloves seemed longer than regulation, deadly as knives. I sped fast, faster. Always be faster.

"King is absent from this match, his first absence in Corvus history," Nathan said. "It seems like Corvus wants to prove they can hold their own just fine without his help. It'll be exciting to see how his sub, Yun, proves himself without King's help, if he proves himself at all. We'll have to wait and see!"

"Bitch-ass," I muttered.

"Language," Zoe said.

"Really?"

"Hey, King isn't here, someone's got to say it!"

"Don't remind me," I murmured.

I crossed the logs' path. Taylor lunged for me, just as Melville came into view hounding Zahir.

I slammed my bike to the side, crushing the front wheel under Taylor's as I skidded in a ninety-degree angle to my left. Taylor wobbled right, left, then into the ground, sparks flying every which way as he spiraled.

I raked my metal knuckles along the concrete and shoved myself upright. Zahir and I rode on either side of Melville, who hesitated just as the pillars approached.

"Limbo," Zahir ordered.

I grabbed one handlebar as Zahir grabbed the other. We yanked Melville forward, this way and that, his back wheel in as much panic as he seemed to be in. He made a kick to the back as if to knock himself horizontal and into my bike, but he was a second too late.

We let go, letting him kiss concrete face-first, body last. He smashed into the pillar with a resonating thud.

"Hell yeah!" Wynter yelled.

"Thank God," I muttered.

"Keep it up, Taylor is on your tail," Coach ordered. "There's a low hanger series up ahead, zig zag and take him out from the hands."

"Go, we'll buy you time," Meredith promised. "But not much, Tracey and Neymoore are on the verge of catching up. Be fast."

"Secret of racing," I said. "Just hold them off until we get to the start of the low hangers."

Zahir and I bolted around the corner, our bikes roaring under the weight of our bodies and the sheer speed. Taylor yanked himself around us, between us, a bulky figure without strategy but with plenty of possible damage.

He swung for my shoulder, missed me by half an inch, and clocked my hip hard. I cried out on impact, a ricocheting wave of pain shooting down my leg and up my ribs.

"Yun," Coach snapped.

"All good," I bit out.

"Keep out of arm's length, no need to be so close," Rosalie said. "And you have knuckles, use them!"

I steered clear of him. Zahir trailed behind him. When the low hangers struck, Zahir and I wove back and forth in a circumference around him, ducking or sliding under just out of his reach. He eventually got frustrated with the taunting, and swerved the nose of his bike into mine.

I yanked my bike to the side. I reached out, knuckles poised. I slammed them into the flesh between his forearm and bicep, his arm snapping tight on instinct. Zahir lurched forward and swung his fist right into Taylor's gloved hand.

The combination rendered his bike without a steerer. It couldn't withstand the speed without hands to control it, and in result, went zipping straight into a low hanger. Taylor was briefed by a log to the stomach, bikeless. It struck him square in the gut, like a gift from God.

"Now that's a combo!" Zahir laughed.

"A clumsy one. You've got feminine hips, cobayo, you gotta protect those!" Diego called. "How will you ever be a mother one day?"

"Just, what the fuck," I replied.

"Focus up," Rosalie said. "We're not done yet."

Fifteen minutes smiled on the clock. I breathed deep.

"That play was almost cheeky, I gotta say! An entertaining match is underway for you all tonight! Corvus is ahead by nearly thirty points now. Let's see how long they can maintain this strong start!"

Not long, let me tell you.

As promised, Meredith and Diego couldn't hold off the Ducks' offense for long, and as the first half began to close, they began to get angry at being so left out.

With five minutes to go, Neymoore made that clear.

Neymoore zipped passed Diego just as Zahir scored another series of points in the pole series, our lead still relatively strong. Diego pushed the pedals until the engine sang and he was soaring forward with concrete smoke in his wake.

Neymoore zipped and zig-zagged until he was the head of the whole pack, points slowly piling in his name. Diego went for him, 08 on his tail, Neymoore now at his head.

"Looks like the Ducks are finally trying to control their own track!" Nathan said. "The points are slowly starting to even out!"

Neymoore veered left, veered right. He took a ramp. Diego followed, the two of them going farther and farther away.

"Stop," Kenzo said. "Don't."

"Why not? He's racking up points right now, who's trying to stop him?" Diego snapped.

"Don't," Kenzo said.

I narrowed my eyes up ahead. Neymoore tilted left, where Diego was heading for him. His hand clutched the handlebar, and his right hand began to leave his bike.

"Hey," I said quickly. "Diego, wait—"

Neymoore swung.

His fist and left shoulder collided with Diego in a supernova. Diego cried out, his whole body sailing off the bike and flying backwards from the impact. He flew far, far, far, until his whole snapped against the concrete, bike discarded, Diego unmoving.

"Diego!" Zahir yelled.

Kenzo burst forward.

He raced ahead of the line of racers, heading straight for Neymoore. Tracey went after him like a shooting star. They battled the concrete and physics just to get to Diego and Neymoore first.

"Kenzo, wait!" Rosalie tried.

Kenzo slammed his whole body into Neymoore, shoulder to shoulder, side to side. Neymoore's head cracked against the concrete, but he managed to wind his left arm around Kenzo nonetheless.

He held Kenzo there until they approached a bridge. Tracey took her front wheel to his back one, slicing at it from the right. His bike doubled down, the tire catching right into the teeth of Neymoore's.

Zahir raced forward as if his life depended on it. He smashed against Tracey, sending her reeling into the first log pile available. Rosalie was hot on his trail, the two racing forward for Kenzo in a battle to break through the fleeting seconds.

"Kenzo!" Rosalie cried.

At the crest of the bridge, Neymoore let go.

Kenzo fell down, down, down, into the waters below.

"Kenzo!"

"His arm is definitely sprained," Ramos said, standing beside the bed in the infirmary. "And so is his ankle. At most, hairline fractures, so there is that. His head injury could be a concussion, I'll have to conduct some tests when he's more coherent. He wasn't in the water long enough for their to be too much in his lungs."

"How the fuck is this allowed?" Rosalie yelled. "That bridge is beyond regulation, it's at least fifteen feet too high for that water to be less than four fucking feet deep. Neymoore should be disqualified. What about Diego?"

"Stitches, his ribs are definitely bruised. I think he should get checked for any internal bleeding after this." Ramos took in a shaky sigh. "But, none of this is something they can't fully heal from."

Zahir buried his head in his hands and breathed. "You're kidding me. You're actually—what was he thinking? What was he thinking?"

"What the hell are we supposed to do, we have an entire other half," Rosalie hissed. "He warned us and I just..." Rosalie shook her head.

Coach frowned. "Now is not the time to play the blame game. What Neymoore did was outright foul play, and he knows it, but this is the best we've been given, and we gotta go with it. They wouldn't want you just sitting here hating what you didn't do. We have to try."

I glanced at Kenzo, then at Rosalie. I said, "Four minutes to second half."

No one responded to that. But Rosalie silently moved, turning on her heel and heading out of the infirmary. After a few beats, the rest of us, aside from Diego, went after her.

We stood at the balcony. Rosalie said, "We need a new plan. We're only ahead by ten points right now. Fuck, let me think." Rosalie nodded. "If offense is getting more aggressive, they're going to put in their other front to drive it home. We need to target Neymoore, he's the captain, he's the ringleader."

My body was already burning, my muscles aching from the efforts to keep up pace with the rest of the racers, to not let the fire of both anxiety and exertion take me out completely. If I had to undergo that with one more front, I was screwed royally.

"We're at an utter size disadvantage," Wynter said at my left. "Even Zahir is smaller compared to some of those guys. We really stand no chance now."

Zoe elbowed her. "We have a chance. We just have to think." She glanced at Rosalie. "Er, Rosie?"

Rosalie was quiet. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I...let me think."

I leaned over the railing, peering at the Ducks. I drummed my gloved fingers on the metal.

"For now," I said, "we should try to maintain the points until the last few minutes, then surge ahead, not waste our energy on their tricks. We can't beat them with fists, but we could just be smarter about where we hit."

"What are you talking about?"

"There are several parts of the body where you can't build muscle," I said. "Eyes, nose, throat, knees, elbows, groin. Forget the first three, but the knees are an easy target, and with the extra padding, they won't break as much as they'll twist wrong, pull something in the muscles. Same with the elbows, they're easy targets, quick reflexes." I glanced at Rosalie. "Let's forget about the size, we have to. If we have those targets, that could be our chance in disarming them."

The girls looked amongst each other. Rosalie wiped the blood from her cheek and got to her feet.

"All right," she said. "Let's stagger. Zoe, you're center tail, take Kenzo's place. Wynter, you're in Diego's place. Adjust however you need, but it's non-negotiable. Echo, you and Zahir will have to stagger out, not be so side-by-side. We'll do a staircase position, and hope the defense fans out so everyone's got an eye on someone."

We nodded. Zahir made his way towards us, his eyes defeated and his body tired, but still standing. He said, "What's the plan?"

"Kick their ass," Wynter murmured. "Skin them alive."

Zahir said, "Sounds fine."

"Racers! One minute to start of second half!"

Rosalie grabbed her helmet. "Let's do that after we win, okay?"

We grabbed our things.

"Right after," Meredith promised.

We went.

Second half.

I'll save you the gruesome massacre. Mostly.

Our plan of staying in position worked a little too well. So well, in fact, that I was about ready to just cry for joy. And pain. Lots of pain.

If my legs were still there, I didn't know it. My back ached something fierce, my shoulders about ready to fall right off, skin, muscle, bone and all. I doubted there was any blood left to go to my head, or any of my limbs, really. If there was, I'd have to wait and see.

Neymoore wasn't giving up on his strategy of kill anything that moves either, which I was about as okay with as the rest of everyone who had to deal with it. Aster had joined the match though, and I had mixed feelings to say the least.

"We have to move faster," Rosalie said. "I'm gonna take Neymoore to the back, everyone start taking out the fronts."

Aster was swift. And fast. Very fast. Not any faster than Zahir or Kane, but fast enough that at my level of exhaustion, it was a little difficult to keep up with.

"Focus, Yun!" Coach snapped. "You're killing me here, get your head in the goddamn match, you people are behind by four points!"

"Working on that," I murmured.

"Seems like Corvus is readily falling behind on this match," Nathan observed. "Down two star racers and their captain, I don't know if they'll be able to keep up."

"Shove it, you child," I hissed.

"Focus!" Coach ordered.

Aster was far ahead. The only thing that had kept her or anyone in place was a blow to the knee or a strike in their hip. Neymoore performed yet another combination. Wynter went for him at full speed, but it was to no avail when her kick only made him falter and her racing was too young to match his five years of experience. He seemed to stick pins in all of our mistakes. Zahir was too preoccupied with Bensen, Melville's replacement, to even focus on Neymoore anymore, and it was costing him more than just seconds.

We were racing a losing game.

"Dammit!" Zahir groaned, holding his side after a particularly nasty blow to his stomach. "Is it normal to taste blood this much?"

"You're taking too many hits, Gupta, you've gotta get out of range," Coach said.

"I get out of range and they take the points," he argued. "Can't afford it."

I'd been at three places at once since the start of the match, running between trying to lose Grace and 08 who'd decided to hound me at every turn. The amount of times I'd avoided getting my head crushed against a wall was thanked by my skull, but far less by my neck. I was getting sick of quick getaways. I'd wriggled out of grips and swerved my bike like a tornado far too many times for comfort. I was starting to become less of a racing wolf and more like its prey. Meredith had been fighting Aster, flinging her off like a gnat that wouldn't quit, while Wynter played tug-of-war with Tracey and the noses of their bikes. Rosalie wasn't any better, being the main source of control. She was a defender and an offender all at once, fighting off 08's carefully aimed blows and making her own at Grace and Bensen. Zoe did what she could against 04, but he was twice her size and twice as cunning, playing her like a puppet for his amusement.

"Corvus is struggling to stay afloat! I've never seen them like this before," Nathan said. "It looks like Yun is losing grip taking King's place, too. This is not looking good for them."

Nathan, clearly, was not helping us either.

Coach was running thin on strategies, but to be fair, both teams were. Nathan was right about one thing: Corvus had never been like this before. The struggle was tension-riddled and taut, a horrific unsaid question in its folds; was this the match that broke the Corvus win?

"Five minutes!" Coach yelled.

A miracle could help. But I wasn't really a miracle magnet, to be frank.

Neymoore was a boulder in front of us at every turn. We were zippier, speeding around, soaring ahead, but if he caught us just once, it was all over for nearly another minute. Aster rode on his coattails, sailing ahead when he gave her the opening to pile up points like it was a goddamn bonus round of a shitty internet game.

Then the buzzer sounded.

At a tie.

Now, Corvus had never lost a game, sure. It was also to be said, it'd been nearly a decade and a half since they'd ever tied.

Rosalie slumped against the wall of the balcony, shaking her head. "Fuck. Fuck," she cursed. "Did we just lose?"

Meredith shook her head. "No, no there's still the death round."

"A death round," Wynter repeated, breathless. "We just got mauled alive and there's a death round."

Zahir settled next to Rosalie, slowly like his whole body ached just to move. "There is the opportunity to forfeit. It's a loss, though."

Rosalie shook her head. "No way. We can't. I'd just kill myself by then." 

Ramos arrived with her medical bag, Coach behind her. She ushered Zahir and Rosalie to the bench to treat their worse wounds, ordering Zoe and Wynter to eat the oranges she'd brought while she helped the other two first.

I was slouched against the wall. I didn't want to look at the numbers. They felt like red writing all over my body; nothing but death, death, death.

"We have to do the death round," Rosalie said. "They're going to put in either Kim or Neymoore, they're fast. Who's up to that speed?"

At first, no one spoke. Then bit by bit, their gazes slid towards me, until every crow's eyes were focused on me. 

I scoffed weakly. "Oh, man. You are kidding. You're so kidding that I'm turning into a goddamn toddler as we speak."

"You're the second fastest behind King, maybe even faster," Wynter said. "And it's not like we have many other options. Zahir is out for the count, he looks terrible and feels worse."

"Did your frontal lobe dislodge and get sloshed away into your cerebrospinal fluid?" I shook my head. "I could barely make it through these two halves."

"It's a drag race, nothing matters but speed."

Rosalie eyed me. I said, "I'd like to go back to being a good-for-nothing little shit."

"If you don't do this," she replied carefully. "you will be."

"I can't beat them."

Rosalie shook her head, and when she spoke, a fraying desperation broke through her voice like needles. "This is our last shot at winning this match," she tried. "We can't afford to lose yet."

You know how to race.

So you know how to win.

I pursed my lips tight. I thought of Kenzo falling from the bridge, of Diego flying from Neymoore's fist. I thought of Kane lying in bed, fever racking his body, silver wafting from his skin, the strand of white hair from his head.

I closed my eyes. I knew by then it wasn't a matter of whether I'd do it or not. It was just a matter of what would happen when I did.

I got to my feet. I grabbed my helmet. The numbers swam in my skull.

I have no choice.

"All right," I sighed. I turned to Corvus. "Let's race."

A death round, well. It's in the name.

A single round, to the death. 

Two racers elected from both teams will race head to head under no time limit, until one of them scores a gap of twenty points. The catch was in that there were limits on physical attacks, and no one could attack the other with any closed fist or brute strike, rather only full body checks and bike checks. Ergo: it wasn't a round of strength, but a round of speed.

A round of pure, unadulterated racing.

"This is the first death round of Championships, this year! This match has had me on the edge of my seat for hours now, a tie of a whopping 201 to 201 on both ends, with less than 0.2 miles per hour difference between those final points.Getting to a death round is nearly as difficult as it is to get to Red Diamond itself! Can Corvus redeem themselves here, well, I sure hope so, and they're sending out Echo Yun to place those bets on!"

"God save me," I murmured as I walked out towards my bike. "And shut that man up for good."

Drag races were common in reckless youth, little league scrimmages, and street races. Before Corvus, drag races were my only races. But a drag race through LA traffic at three AM for nothing but a few bucks was worlds' away from a death round against some of the NCAA's finest with thousands on the line and millions watching. And back then, I'd been racing for me. Now, I had a lot more bodies to keep afloat.

"You got this, Yun," Zoe cheered. "You're gonna crush Neymoore in the face."

"Kill them. Kill them all," Wynter said.

"Just focus on the points, that's all that matters," Rosalie said. "Don't get petty about whatever he or Kim try and do you in with. Just focus on the obstacles."

"Fair," I said. "I think."

"Not really," they agreed.

"But you've versed worse. You've gotten this far," Zahir said.

But not alone, I thought, my stomach churning.

I swung my legs over the bike.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, can't start a death round alone. Hey." I turned around. "You gonna bid me fair match?"

04 Han stared back at me, purple as a plum and his face painted with a mocking smile. For a moment, I thought he was going to step aside and reveal Aster or Neymoore there instead. But, to no avail.

I said, "Are you?"

He tilted his head. He stood before me and held out his hand with a flash of a smile. "We never got introduced, yeah? Yubaek. I know your captain."

"Echo," I said, and took a moment before I shook his hand. "I know my captain, too."

"Ah, as colorful as your hair, I see," he said with a snicker. "We're all sportsmanlike here."

"How sportsmanlike is throwing people off bridges and bruising their ribs?" I asked.

He raised a brow. "This is racing, man. All's fair on the track."

"There's racing and there's foul play."

Yubaek stared, then said, "Maybe they're just good racers, and bad ones."

I bristled. Yubaek remained smiling, which made my blood boil even worse. If I was a smarter man, I would've clocked him in the nose. And if I was braver, I would do it twice.

But I wasn't either, so I said, "And maybe there are strategists, and cowards."

Yubaek took a step towards me. "Hey now. That's my captain. Kind of rude to say right in front of me, no?"

"Don't tell me your captain's so fragile as to care what a no-name rookie has to say about him."

"No-name rookie, hey, yeah, that's right," he sneered. "The lost puppy that wandered into D1 elite racing and ate out of enough palms to get a place in its top team." He looked me up and down. "I thought pets weren't allowed on the track."

I glowered. "I'm not a pet."

"No, guess not," he sighed, and pointed at my jacket, void of any number or surname or sponsor labels, blank ave for the colors and a crisp CORVUS printed across the chest. "You don't even have a name for your collar."

I curled my fists tight until my nails were breaking my palms' skin. The buzzer sounded for us to begin.

"Racers! Ready your bikes!"

Corvus stood at the balcony, shouting and cheering like their lives depended on it, nearly falling off the railing with how far they leaned over it. Ramos and Coach held up their fists at me.

"Come on, Echo!" Meredith said.

"Go, Yun, go," Zoe said.

"Don't fuck it up," Rosalie said, then, in unison with Wynter and Zahir, "Let's go, Yun!"

No matter what Mercy or my brother or my father had to say, no matter what happened to give me the chance or what happened that would take it away, Corvus was the reason I was still standing. They had every opportunity and reason to throw me out, to deny my secrets, to deny my lies. But they hadn't. I owed Corvus more than my racing. I owed them my life.

"On your mark!"

It didn't matter what anyone would do to me for it.

"Get set!"

I was sick of being afraid of the only people that had never pulled their hands away when I'd shown them mine.

"Go!"

And I was sick of being afraid of winning.

Corvus are winners.

I'd make sure of that.

It wasn't called a death round for nothing.

Yubaek was fast, faster than Neymoore and Aster combine, maybe even faster than Zahir, maybe as fast as Kane. He was a blur, a bullet, a shot on the road that never stopped going.

I was fighting for my every breath just to catch up. The effort sent an inferno under my skin, and I feared I'd burn right through every cell of my body before I managed to make even a dent in the gap.

"Ten minutes in and neither of these racers are giving in yet!" Nathan said excitably. "Ducks lead by four points! It seems Corvus is desperate for this win more so than usual if they're willing to bet on their rookie to win this over!"

I pretended that wasn't damn rude and crushed the accelerator with as much force as my fading energy would allow.

He took a ramp, sailing up over me to land a few yards ahead. I steered towards the tunnel, leading right into a pole series, before matching him second for second. Corvus led by five points.

He veered for the bridge. I went after him. His back wheel smacked into my front one and I zoomed ahead to smash my whole body into his, sending us both steering off the bridge's end and crashing onto the concrete.

I raced ahead for the log piles. Yubaek veered around me and headed for the ramp.

"Forget the complex obstacles," Coach said in my ear. "Death rounds aren't just speed and points. It's endurance. You need to hold out longer than him. Keep the points in check, but don't get obsessed, laps are points, too. You just need to race—hell, you just need to drive. It's who's the last one standing."

I hesitated at that. I looked up ahead where Yubaek had already scored another ten points coming down from the ramps, heading for the chicanes next. I gritted my teeth.

Hold out?

I had plenty of experience on that end.

I surged forward.

"Seems Yun is abandoning point combos for speed," Nathan said. "What's his strategy?"

Everything hurt, from the tips of my fingers wrapped around the handlebars to my toes that were jammed into the accelerator-frenzied cleats. Every muscle that moved threatened to rip right at its seams where its cells were already stretched to its absolute limit. I wondered if my tendons had already snapped. It burned just to breathe. My heart beat so fast it bruised my ribcage.

"Sixty two minutes into this round and we are still going at it, folks, this is so tense between these two racers, they both want this win with a vengeance. I have to say I'm impressed with how long Yun has held out against Han considering their significant experience gap," Nathan said.

"Keep it up," Rosalie said. "He's starting to slow down. Just watch."

If I could even see through all the sweat pouring down my skin, I'd try.

It wasn't the most obvious exhaustion unless you knew to look for it. Yubaek was a speedy thing, a show-off in his racing only when he felt unthreatened. But his show had depleted to barely a spark, and his turns were too tilted to be as balanced as they should be, his reflexes half a second too late to be fully conscious. I was bone-deep, soul-deep exhausted. But as it seemed, so was he.

We took to the chicanes for the hundredth time. The points were breaching the 300s now, the Ducks leading by three. I thought it was three. Nothing that needed basic coherence could be trusted with my adrenaline-fed, barely-surviving brain. The only oxygen in my blood was there out of God's grace and subconscious survival instincts.

I went for the chicanes, zig-zagging right at Yubaek's tail. Sparks flew from where the side of his wheel skid against the metal fencing.

"Yun," Rosalie said.

"Got it," I huffed. "Give me a sec."

We left the chicanes.

I headed for the ramps. It took a moment for Yubaek to surge on after me, racing on my tail like he'd bite it right off. I coughed up enough energy to slam on the accelerator once more to gain the momentum needed.

Yubaek gained on me before eventually sidling up at my left. We zipped forward and up the ramp, cresting the atmosphere.

The second we landed, I lurched left as far as I could.

We both went crashing into the concrete, skidding in a mess of sparks and metal and speed and smoke. I couldn't see for the life of me, nothing but fire and black in my gaze.

"Echo!"

I braked like my life depended on it.

My bike yanked itself backwards and me with it, a comet going in reverse. My cleats' teeth drew fireworks in my wake, the metal knuckles of my gloves raking into the concrete with claw marks skinning the stone to show for it. My skin was scraped raw under the pressure, and I felt the unmistakable blooming dampness of blood bloom.

Yubaek was still sideways on the concrete, his bike rolling helplessly and his body too traumatized to recover fast enough from the blow. But he wasn't not moving, and he wouldn't stay on the ground forever. My time slot thinned to seconds, to the distance between me and that dreaded fucking bridge.

"Yun—"

"Trust me," was all I managed, before I was bolting right for it.

I could feel Yubaek ratify himself and follow after, and the roaring crowd along with Nathan's dreaded voice were only further confirmations. The bridge loomed over me like an arch-faced beast.

I raced up. Yubaek finally caught up to me at its peak, our bodies and bikes parallel. The points began to ascend in a terrible unison.

Maybe there are just good racers, and there are bad ones.

Yubaek swung his wheel at me, as if to enact the same untimely body check that I'd performed on him. So I ducked out of reach.

And fell right over the bridge.

The waters came for me like rabid dogs. I held onto my bike for dear life, trying to see through sweat and blood and breath at the world turning upside down around me. Don't panic. Don't think. Don't worry. Just win.

I kicked the side of my bike into a somewhat-upright position, and leaned my entire body forward in an effort to push the bike's landing somewhere less concerned with the incoming-very-quickly-incoming, water.

The bike's front wheel and upper half landed on the concrete, the tail's tire faltering into the water. I wasted no time worrying about it, looking behind me instead.

Yubaek had swung into nothing, and was paying the price for it. He'd lost balance, but the bridge was too steep, and he'd buckled down into the cold, unforgiving concrete. The stadium watched as he went crashing down, tumbling off the bridge without any way to stop it. When he crashed into the water, he didn't get back up.

"Go, Echo, go go go!" Rosalie demanded.

I went.

I pushed out the last of the battery's dying life to shoot me forward like a shot. My bike slid left and right with the excess water marring its traction, but I got through the pillars and the low-hangers nonetheless, managing a clumsy pole series, before the final ramp.

I saw the finish line up ahead.

I raced for it like the heavens themselves had opened their gates.

When I crossed it, the scoreboard lit up 304 to 325, Corvus's favor.

Corvus greeted me with cheers galore, patched up all over. Ramos and Coach were behind them, Ramos with an extra medical bag and Coach looking as exhausted as I felt.

"Come here, you absolute miracle," Wynter snapped, wrenching me into a hug that had me gasping. "You suck, making us wait so long. That was amazing."

"Amazing? I can't believe you even lasted that long! I would've passed out for sure," Zahir said with a laugh. He ruffled my hair. "You're never not surprising, kid."

Zoe hugged me tight. "I knew you'd kill it," she whispered. "I knew you'd win."

Meredith smiled brightly, her eyes nearly closing with how wide her grin spread. She leaned towards me. "That's a top D1 racer if I've ever seen one."

I grinned past the taste of iron. "I owe you all."

"No," Coach said from behind. "We owe you." She grinned at me. "You pulled through when we needed, and you actually mostly listened. I'm impressed. You're impressive, Yun."

"A compliment," I said to Rosalie. "Maybe I'm hallucinating."

Rosalie's smile was wondrous, a glowing star stamped below her green eyes. She pushed my hair back from my face and pinched my cheek softly. "You're impressive," she echoed. "You're a fucking impression, Yun."

Ramos pulled my face to her. "I'm very proud, and also very worried, you look absolutely terrible."

"I've got one of those faces," I said with a shrug. "And not to rush anyone, but, can we head home? I can't feel anything from my neck down."

They laughed like I was joking. I let them, grinning in the midst of the high of it. Sweet and addictive and criminally effervescent.

"What do you think King will say?" Zoe asked, raising a brow.

It felt a lot like victory.

I shrugged. "Let's go find out."

(this chapter was written mostly on a 16 hour plane ride in the dark on inane amounts of caffeine and willpower, so if it sounds a bit crazed, that's why and please forgive me :) the little star is forever grateful for ur patience)