Chapter Text
Utahime’s morning began with a beautiful view from her hotel room in London. The curtains shimmered faintly in the sunlight. She held a warm cup of coffee, no sugar, in left hand, and her iPad laid in front of her. She was scrolling through the event details, which she had already checked multiple times. Her phone lay on speaker beside her, her index finger absently tapping the screen as she spoke to her mother.
“Are you nervous, Uta?” her mother’s gentle voice filtered through the phone. Her mom being one of the few people who actually sounded good even over a call, the perks of being a singer.
“No, I’m all good,” Utahime sighed, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling.
“I can hear the tapping, you know?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you could hear that.”
“You can talk to me.”
“A little nervous, Mom. Last year I was an assistant manager, and this time I’m the manager. So you know…a little more responsibility.”
“I know, but you earned this, Uta. You won that place because you deserved it.”
“You know that’s the ‘official’ reason,” Utahime let out a short laugh. “The upper management had a quarrel with the manager and she resigned. They just gave me the position because I was already working with her.”
“Yes, but you must have been good, because even after she resigned, your manager recommended your name.”
Utahime hummed a quiet yes, though she didn’t fully agree.
“Anything else bothering you?”
“Yes. That idiot,” Utahime replied, her tone sharp.
“Who? Satoru?”
“Yes. The past few weeks have been an adventure. Last week, he managed to go live wearing this year’s race suit, it had the sponsor logos we hadn’t publicly revealed yet. Poor Maya, she got an earful from management.”
Her mother chuckled softly. “Sounds like old days.”
Utahime shook her head,and rolled her eyes.
They spoke for another minute, small reassurances, the kind only a mother could give, before Utahime ended the call. “Okay, Mom. Talk to you later. I need to get ready.”
She placed the coffee mug a little too firmly on the table, the sound sharp in the quiet room, then pushed herself up and headed toward the bathroom. The day had just begun.
✿✿✿✿✿
The room buzzed with activity. Crew members rushed around with steam irons, setting powder, and hair dryers.
“Hold still,” the hairdresser chided Gojo as she set his hair neatly in place.
Geto muffled a laugh, currently getting his long hair tied into a bun.
“I’m pretty sure everyone’s here to watch the car launch, Emi, not me,” Satoru said to his hairdresser.
“Utahime asked us to make sure all three of you look good.”
“Of course she did,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
Once done with his hair, he walked up to a large mirror. “Let me update my fans,” he said, pulling out his phone just as Utahime walked in.
One thing Gojo knew was that she always looked good, always dressed in formal attire, not a hair out of place.
“No. Don’t you dare. Post it after the livery launch.”
“Come on, Utahime, it’s just a photo,” Gojo groaned.
“No. It’s orders from up there.”
“It’s definitely you, not anyone else,” he muttered under his breath.
Geto tsked, standing by his side.
“Anyway, to brief you both,” Utahime said, “you’ll barely get two or three questions since we’re short on time. Keep your answers short and simple. And you, Gojo, just be confident, not overconfident.”
She walked down the corridor, both of them following, laughing at something.
“Oh, you want to see how my gym sessions are going?” Gojo grabbed Geto by the collar, pretending to lift him up.
“Stop, don’t do it! You’ll crease it!” Utahime said, trying to pull his hands away from Geto’s jacket while the two men laughed like maniacs.
“Good to go, boys,” Yaga said, watching the buffoons make stupid faces at each other.
The entire audience cheered as soon as Velarossa’s new livery took the centre stage. The car stood under the bright spotlights, gleaming under the scrutiny of everyone present. This was the moment fans had been waiting for. Its sleek body shimmered, bold and unapologetic. Yaga, Geto, and Gojo waved at the audience and the cameras.
Generally, every year teams hosted their own separate livery launches, but this time F1 had decided to go big. A grand, cumulative event featuring all ten teams at London’s O2 Arena. All twenty drivers and ten team principals were mandated to attend.
The car was a beauty. It had a matte crimson finish, with thin golden lines tracing the side pods. The body was carefully layered with sponsor logos, something Utahime had voiced very strong opinions about, particularly where each should go. The design team had listened, she was glad they did.
Utahime stood to the side, her iPad in hand, as the anchor posed questions to the drivers and the team principal.
“Suguru, so good to see you again in red. If you had one word to describe how you’re feeling about the car, what would it be?”
“Innovative. I think our team has clearly worked hard on it. I am looking forward to drive it.”
“Satoru, how does it feel to be in a Velarossa car? Are you nervous or excited?”
“Definitely excited. The day I become nervous about driving an F1 car, I’ll quit,” he answered with his signature grin.
“Suguru, do you think you’ll act as a mentor for Satoru?”
“I’ll try, someone has to,” he teased.
“Of course, old man,” retorted Gojo. He often referred to Geto that way, even though he was actually the younger one, by a few months.
“No, but seriously,” Geto added, “he’s good. He’ll definitely be a tough competitor.”
“And as a team principal, any words from your end? Do you have a favourite driver?” the interviewer teased Yaga.
“Anyone can win the world championship. As a team principal, I’m looking forward to the Constructors’ Championship. Our entire team at the factory has worked so hard on this car, they deserve it. It’s a new season, a new car, a new team. We’re fueled with excitement.”
The audience applauded their answers, and the cameras flashed.
Utahime’s heart was beating fast. She had always admired this sport, the idea of so many teams working tirelessly to bring out the best of aerodynamics and technology. She felt proud to be a part of this team.
The event carried on, with other teams unveiling their liveries and taking turns to answer the press.
“Gosh, I feel so tired,” Gojo muttered, loosening his race suit.
“Of course you do. Must be exhausting, all that modelling in front of the camera,” Geto said, taking a long gulp from a chilled bottle of water.
“I need to look good in the photos,” Gojo sighed dramatically.
“We have one Instagram Live Q&A. Utahime wants both of you in the media room after half an hour,” Maya said, catching up to Gojo.
“Can’t we just go back to our hotel rooms and join the live from there?” Gojo asked, his tone hopeful.
“No. She wants me to monitor you.”
“What am I, five?”
Maya only shrugged.
“You’re siding with her,” he accused.
“Maybeee.”
Satoru squinted his eyes at her but, nevertheless, gave in.
✿✿✿✿✿
The sound of the engines drowned every other sound around him. Gojo’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, eyes sharp behind the visor, not daring to blink. The car blazed past the stands in a streak of red, cutting through the night air of Bahrain, each turn executed with ruthless precision. Every corner of the circuit was burned into Gojo’s mind.
“Last lap. You’re currently at P5,” Nick, his race engineer, echoed through the radio.
“Let’s make it count,” Gojo smirked under his helmet.
The car ahead was close, too close.
Utahime watched the race on the monitors, her face drawn tight in concentration. Her hands pressed the headset closer, as if she could catch more information that way. Behind her, Yaga stood with arms crossed, calm on the outside, though even Utahime could sense the tension beneath it.
He almost caught the car in front. Almost. The chequered flag waved.
“P5. Good race, Satoru,” Nick’s voice crackled in his ear.
Gojo let out a short laugh, the kind that carried more frustration than joy. “Anyways, thank you, team. How about Suguru?”
“P3. We’ve got one podium. P3 and P5 , I’d call that a strong start.”
“Happy for him,” Gojo murmured, meaning it, even if his pride stung just a little.
After finishing the post-race formalities, he finally stepped out of the car. He peeled off his gloves, helmet, and balaclava, his hair plastered to his forehead, face flushed and streaked with sweat. The adrenaline had begun to ebb, replaced by that familiar exhaustion only a race could bring.
Cameras swarmed instantly as soon as he entered the media section. Maya caught up beside him, voice recorder in hand, her stride matching his.
“That’s a good debut, Satoru, P5 in your first race with Red,” Mei was the first one to say.
“Yeah, not bad.” He smirked a little, tired but still confident, or overconfident, as Utahime would say.
Utahime stood a little farther away, iPad in hand, pretending to read something. She was monitoring both the drivers. Geto was already done with his part and heading toward the podium for his celebration. She was waiting for Gojo to be done.
“Any words for your fellow driver, Louis? He DNFed in the first lap.”
Gojo knew that question would come. Louis had almost crashed into his car, which he had luckily escaped.
“Aww, that sucks.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Any words?”
“No, not really.”
“Whose fault do you think it was?”
“Definitely not mine.”
“That’s not what Louis thinks.”
“I don’t care what he thinks.”
Utahime bit the inside of her cheek, subtly expressing her disappointment toward Maya. Maya nodded and gently tapped Gojo’s back.
“Folks, we have other commitments, we’ll take one last question.”
“If you notice your car, do you think the crash could have been avoided?” the journalist pressed again.
“Listen, in that case I would’ve received a penalty, which I didn’t. So clearly, you need to rewatch the footage a couple of times. Let me know if you need it in better quality, I’ll forward it.” He smiled, clearly angry now.
He flashed everyone a big grin. “Thank you, everyone. Have a nice day.”
✿✿✿✿✿
Inside the drivers’ room, Gojo kicked off his shoes carelessly , a habit formed in childhood, back when someone else always picked up after him. He turned on the shower. The stream began weak and then came to life, cascading over his shoulders. Water traced slow paths down his skin.
His movements were measured, almost mechanical fingers running through his hair, shampoo foaming between them. But his mind wasn’t in the shower, it was still on the track, replaying corners, shifts, and braking points. He analysed every turn he could’ve taken better, every chance he missed.
When he stepped out, his hair clung wet to his forehead. He rubbed it dry with a towel, then tossed it absentmindedly onto the couch. That’s when his eyes caught a plate on the table , mochi, neatly stacked, with a small note beside it:
Good race :) Don’t worry I won’t tell your trainer ;) — Maya
He smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting before he even realized. For a brief moment, a memory flickered. A distant one he hadn’t thought about in years. His smile reached his eyes this time.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, a message from the very person tied to that memory.
Utahime: Meet me in the media room at 8:00.
By the time he walked in, Utahime was seated at a table, typing seriously on her laptop, her brows furrowed in concentration. The room was otherwise empty, everyone else already out celebrating.
“Senpai, what’s up?” Gojo grinned, his eyes full of mischief.
“Ha. Now you’re calling me Senpai? When all the time back in school, I used to threaten you, you didn’t.” Utahime squinted her eyes.
“See, you agree that you threatened me,” Gojo dragged his chair and sat, grinning fully now.
“Because I did ask you nicely first. You refused.”
“But it was difficult to call you Senpai, you were such a big crybaby.”
Utahime stopped typing and glared at him.
Gojo quickly changed the topic. “Anyway, Ms. Manager, why did you call me?”
“There’s a new sponsor deal for an energy drink. I wanted to send it to you through Maya, but she wasn’t feeling well, so I decided to give it to you myself. Just go through it once, discuss it with your team, and reply.”
“Sure.”
Gojo squinted his eyes, pretending to read.
“We’ll also have a few magazine shoots and interviews lined up.”
“Sure.”
“You can go.”
“Utahime, let’s be friends,” When the conversation started to die, Gojo leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers.
She glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “Friends?”
“Yeah. Fresh season, fresh start. Let’s be friends,” he said, smiling in a way that always made people suspicious of his intentions.
Utahime didn’t even blink. “I’d rather smack my head into the wall.”
Gojo laughed, in a way which will make his fan’s heart flutter, head tipping back. “Ouch. That’s cold, even for you.”
She rolled her eyes.
He watched her walk out, still grinning. “Don’t worry, Utahime. One day you will want to.”
“Yeah, the day when I lose a few brain cells.”
And with that, she left him alone with his sponsor papers and a smile that refused to fade.