“End diary,” she said quietly. “Final entry.”
She didn’t stop.
She slid off the saddle and pressed her palm to the bike’s cool alloy frame. “You did good, old friend.” Hiiragi--39-s Practice Diary -Final- -K-DRIVE--
“One last ride,” she whispered.
She smiled.
“Goodbye, partner.”
“Thank you for not giving up. Not on me. Not on yourself. – K” “End diary,” she said quietly
She laughed softly. That girl had no idea what was coming. The injuries. The rivals who became friends and then vanished. The night her father told her racing was a waste of time. The morning she left home anyway.
Hiiragi was not normal. And the K-DRIVE was not a normal bike. “You did good, old friend
The tunnel swallowed her. G-forces pressed her chest against the tank. The K-DRIVE banked left, then right, its stabilizers screaming as they fought to keep her glued to the curved wall. A normal bike would have spun out. A normal rider would have blacked out.
Her eyes stung. She wiped them with the back of her glove, then leaned down and kissed the bike’s handlebar.