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"Tsukasa, that is P3, 1:29:453. Come back to the pits now; we will put you on used softs for a last run.”
Tsukasa’s breath hitches. That’s zero points slower than the other McLaren sitting on P2. The Red Bulls were nowhere to be seen.
What even was in the Japanese air? How did their Mclaren suddenly run so much faster in Suzuka compared to the other circuits? No one actually knew. Not even the drivers themselves. With this pace, they could actually try to steal pole from the reigning Red Bull of Mafuyu Asahina for the Japanese Qualifying.
“Tsukasa, do you copy?”
“Yes, Otori.”
He drives his papaya-clad chassis into the pit lane, his foot slowly lifting up from the pedal as the pit crew stops his car and brings it into the warm orange garage. Visor opens, his eyes flicker around the contraptions, and he spots the other Mclaren coming into the pit as well, in the neighboring garage.
One last stint. They can do this; they can lock out the front row for the Grand Prix tomorrow. Tsukasa is given the go signal, and he accelerates out of the garage and right behind his teammate.
“Overtake Kamishiro-san upon exiting; we count on you two to lock out the front row for today. Bring something home for the team.” Emu notes, before the radio cuts short.
“Copy.”
He does a clean maneuver and cuts across Rui with no worries, sticking a thumbs-up to the other papaya driver in his cockpit. He prays silently that whatever god is up there is with them today as he starts his final flying lap for Q3.
Sector 1, 33.720.
Sector 2, 42.118.
Sector 3, 18.345.
Tsukasa crosses the white line 10 seconds after Emu tells him the chequered flag is waved. He spots the devilish Red Bull crossing the line in front of him, starting up a flying lap, and he slightly shivers in his cockpit. Everything goes silent around him; even the crowd drowns out. No reply on the radio yet.
“Otori?” He pushes his visor up, and the wind rushes into his eyes. At least he’s awake.
“Provisional pole, 1:27:877, we just wait; Asahina and Kamishiro are both on their flying laps now. I think you're in a safe spot!”
Tsukasa smiles, relieved. Pole position: finally, after two years of being in the midfield, they rise to the top. “Do I pit?”
“Stay out, stay out."
He passes Sector 2 and glances at the big screen as Rui and Mafuyu cross the line. He doesn't take time to check out the statistics and the leaderboard because his car turns around the apex of the next corner. No later does he find the other papaya catch up to him, and he smiles fondly, unsure why the team hasn't spoken at all to him.
“Otori, are you there?” He asks again. She better not have broken something like last time.
Rui slows down next to his car, and they don't race each other, easily tailing behind the rear wing within range. He patiently awaits for Emu to come onto the radio, while the crowd cheers louder.
“P1, Tsukasa, P1! Asahina is zero point five behind you.”
“Is Mafuyu P2?”
“No, Kamishiro is P2, zero point three behind you.”
He grins wider than he should, cheering on the radio. They did it; they managed to lock out the front row for McLaren after years of trying. He hears the team shout and cheer, all grasping on the metal fencing barriers, when he drives to the center standee at the starting grid, Mafuyu and Rui following after in their allocated standees.
Rui, oh Rui. He loved that he could even follow Tsukasa up to stardom and that Tsukasa could bring the man along.
Tsukasa removes his helmet and balaclava and takes in the sweet, fresh autumn air, even though there wasn't a single tree in their sight. He claps hands with Mafuyu as the latter congratulates him; not long before Rui comes jogging to them, helmet still on, and crushes Tsukasa in a hug.
“Rui, your helmet.” Tsukasa laughs. Mafuyu grins at them knowingly before he turns back to his manager, who hands him a fresh bottle of water. Tsukasa taps on the metallic purple plastic, with blue lines running along its perimeter that match his current hair color. His visor was flipped open, and Tsukasa could see his eyes, smiling and shining in the shade of the helmet.
“There's cameras, Rui; we agreed to keeping it a secret till I win.” Tsukasa chuckles, not loud enough for anyone else but the other boy to hear. He feels dozens of gazes on their backs, imprinting into the “56” on the back of his suit.
The other boy jumps in realization before he draws back, nodding as the Sky press come to pester Tsukasa for an interview.
“Rui, baby,” Tsukasa huffs, patting the back of his boyfriend’s fireproofs, the sticky nomex fabric clinging onto Rui’s skin. The fan poorly ventilates the room they settle in, and Rui just couldn't let go of Tsukasa, no matter how stuffy it was. It didn't feel like autumn at all.
“You’re sweaty; come on." He laughs, “We need to clean up; the team briefing is in twenty.”
“No, I want to stay here.” Rui pouts. He knows very well that Tsukasa couldn’t deny that expression, and he doesn’t want to hear Ichika’s monotonous droning about their results and doesn't want to feel the team’s anticipation for the race.
Rui just wants to be in Tsukasa’s arms. That’s enough for him, and enough celebration for the both of them. They just sit there for a bit, Tsukasa’s hand threading the purple strands of Rui’s hair.
“Do you think I could kiss you in public if you win tomorrow?” Rui finally speaks, softly but firmly. His grip on the blonde tightens; he’s looking up to his boyfriend, his chin laying on Tsukasa’s chest.
Tsukasa feels his cheeks tinge warm, his fingers still threading the other’s hair but now halting midway. He gazes into Rui’s eyes, unsure of what to say.
“Let’s see about that.” He manages to sputter out, still flustered, as he watches Rui get up with a smirk on his face, sashaying back to his own driver's room.
“Radio check, Tsukasa.”
Tsukasa responds, cracking his fingers before he grips the steering wheel again. He gazes around, the engineers prepping his car and doing some last-minute cooling. He starts on pole, and not far behind, Rui’s car is also at a standstill.
All eyes were on him today. The weight of bringing a maiden home win is heavy on his shoulders; the cockpit limits his movements, so he couldn’t shake the feeling off. It might be a good drive to get him a win, though.
“Formation lap is starting in a minute.” Emu notes on the radio before crackling to silence again. The engineers draw back from their spots, and Tsukasa presses his foot lightly on the pedal, starting the formation lap.
Rui’s car is in his mirrors, and there is no sense of “Hey, that’s my boyfriend, I will let him pass today” on the rough tar track. Today, McLaren has told him to fight it out with Rui; no team orders unless Asahina becomes a threat to them. They would have both drivers pull away from the Red Bull if possible, with Tsukasa towing Rui, before the bloodthirsty instinct for a win kicks in for both drivers.
However much Tsukasa would love for Rui to win, it is important that he claim his first today. Rui has a longer contract than he does; he can try for it next time. For now, the limelight is on Tsukasa Tenma, the number 56 of Japan, the runner-up pride of Japan behind Mafuyu Asahina.
The last car — a Williams — parks at the last spot. Tsukasa switches to first gear for a standby, drowning out the loud crowds around him; the only thing he could hear was his heartbeat.
Lights out and away we go.
LAP 10: PIT → TEN
Asahina is two point zero behind Kamishiro and fighting with KAITO. You are now allowed to battle with Kamishiro.
LAP 15: PIT → KAM
How is tyre deg? Asahina is two seconds behind.
LAP 15: KAM → PIT
Tyres look good . Tsukasa is towing me, does he know?
LAP 19: LIGHT DRIZZLES, MAFUYU ASAHINA CRASHES INTO DUNLOP CURVE, YELLOW FLAG WITH SAFETY CAR DEPLOYED.
LAP 20: PIT → TEN
Box for fresh hards. Be aware of Kamishiro coming into the pits as well.
LAP 20: PIT → KAM
Box for hards. You are coming in before Tenma.
LAP 30: KAMISHIRO TAKES THE LEAD FROM TENMA.
LAP 30: TEN → PIT
Tell Rui he needs to give back position, if not, FIA will have to penalise him for overtaking outside the track!
LAP 35: RUI KAMISHIRO RECEIVES A FIVE SECOND STOP AND GO PENALTY
LAP 35: PIT → TEN
Box for used softs, we will try to widen the gap.
LAP 40: PIT → KAM
Box to serve penalty. If everything goes according to plan, we will be able to catch up to Tenma.
LAP 52: PIT → KAM
You are zero point five behind Tenma. Keep pushing.
LAP 52: PIT → TEN
Last lap, Kamishiro zero point five behind you. You are faster than him, but he is catching up. Keep pushing and try not to tow him.
LAP 53: RUI KAMISHIRO OVERTAKES TSUKASA TENMA, TSUKASA TENMA ATTEMPTS AND SUCCEEDS PERFORMING A CLEAN MANOEUVRE AND CUTTING BACK IN FRONT OF KAMISHIRO IN SECTOR 3.
Tsukasa Tenma wins the Japanese Grand Prix!
The ringing voice commentary bounces around his head, inside his helmet, as he tries to grasp the newfound feeling of a maiden win. The engineers are on the fence, cheering for him. The papaya fans in the crowd are standing, flags billowing as he zooms past them on track.
Tsukasa raises one arm, sticking a finger out of the cockpit’s halo. P1, finally. Emu screams on his radio, another contributor to his ringing ears, but he doesn’t complain.
“After 2 years,” he cheers into his radio. “Two years of waiting, baby!!!!!”
He parks his car, sitting in it for a minute as he sees the other papaya and surprisingly, KAITO’s Aston Martin is parked at third. Pushing himself out of the cockpit, he stands, slapping his halo and waving a fist as the people around him cheer, whistle, and roar.
Tsukasa spots Rui as he takes off his balaclava after being embraced by the team, running a hand through his damp blonde hair. He knows what this win means, not only for their team and the fans, but for their relationship.
For what truly matters, for the sport to finally have what they always preached for – a same-gender relationship, and inclusivity on the grid.
He firmly smiles, his heart palpitating harder than it did back in the race as the latter jogs – no, dashes towards Tsukasa, his balaclava being pulled off in the process. The camera directs to them, and Rui grabs Tsukasa by his hair, pressing his lips firmly on the newly crowned Grand Prix winner’s mouth.
They form a syllable, Rui’s soft lips moving on Tsukasa’s, Tsukasa’s fingers gingerly framing the other boy’s face as the younger threads his fingers on his blonde hair. He tastes of sweet grape chapstick and sweat, he smells of lemongrass — the familiar comfort that drowns out the cheers that had gotten even louder and the occasional jeering. He can tell even the camera man is slightly taken aback but not hostile — it was already pretty obvious, if you were an insider in the paddock.
They let go once their lungs started to burn over the lack of oxygen, and it was just like their first kiss all over again — sweet and sappy. Tsukasa pecks Rui’s lips one more time, ruffling the others hair as he prepares for his interview with the very shocked interviewer.
“Was it just a moment of elation, or are you and Kamishiro actually a thing?”
“No, we’re actually dating.” He entwines his fingers with Rui, looking at the younger, who smiles at the camera and the interviewers.“It’s been around a year, in fact. We made a promise, when either one of us gets our first win we will go public. Some of our papaya army have actually noticed earlier this year.”
Rui points at the seat next to his, “You bastard, don’t act like you never knew of this.” KAITO gags as a joke, and everyone chuckles, while Tsukasa pressing a kiss to Rui’s knuckles. He tastes of the fizzy champagne that they sprayed on the podium just a while ago.
“This is great news for the fanbase that has always paired you two together as an item, and also great news for the inclusivity movement in Formula 1.”
Tsukasa smiles warmly. Truth be told, he had never expected such a positive reaction from the F1 community, and he was so relieved people could accept it. If they could not, it would be a problem they didn’t need to care about.
All Tsukasa knows is that he is happy and comfortable with how far both of them have come. He and Rui are rising stars, climbing to stardom with entwined hands.