"What are you doing?"
The voice broke Marco's concentration. He was currently performing a very specific stretch standing on one leg, rotating his hip outward while making swimming motions with his arms. It looked ridiculous, especially since he was wearing a neon purple leather suit that screamed '1998 Disco Party.'
Marco didn't stop. He glanced at the intruder. It was a guy about his age, maybe older, wearing a loose-fitting, entry-level mesh jacket and riding jeans.
"I'm activating my glutes," Marco replied, deadpan. "If they sleep, I highside. If I highside, I cry."
"Wanna... a gum?" the guy offered, holding out a pack, clearly confused by Marco's intensity.
Marco paused. He looked at the gum, then at the guy. "Sure."
"I'm Takashi," the guy said, nervously adjusting his gloves. "First time?"
" something like that," Marco muttered. "I'm Kai."
"Cool, Kai. Nice... uh... suit. Very retro. My dad loves that stuff." Takashi pointed to a Kawasaki Ninja 250 parked nearby with taped-up headlights. "That's my baby. Just hoping I don't stall it leaving the pits. I'm in the Beginner Group too."
"Just remember," Marco said, his voice dropping into the mentorship tone he used to use with rookie teammates. "Cold tires lie to you. Give them two laps. Don't grab the brake; squeeze it like you're squeezing a lemon."
Takashi blinked. "Whoa. That sounds poetic. Thanks, man. Hey, we should stick together. Safety in numbers, right?"
"Sure," Marco agreed. "Safety."
From the back of the open Toyota HiAce, Jiro watched the interaction while wiping a smudge of grease off the NSR's tank. He chuckled.
"Look at him," Jiro said to Rin. "He looks like a grape talking to a marshmallow. But he's actually making friends."
Rin sat on a cooler, kicking her legs. "He's not making friends, Uncle. He's analyzing the competition. Look at his eyes. He's scanning that Ninja's tire wear."
Jiro looked closer. Rin was right. Marco wasn't looking at Takashi's face; he was looking at the Ninja's chain tension. Jiro shook his head. "The kid is obsessed. I love it."
With Takashi heading back to his bike, Marco had a moment of peace before the PA system announced the start of the session. He leaned against the warm aluminum frame of the NSR250 and closed his eyes.
"System," he whispered. "Status report."
The familiar blue window flickered into existence against the backdrop of his eyelids.
[ HOST: MARCO ROSSI (BODY: KAI TANAKA) ]
[ PHYSICAL CONDITION ]
Strength: 12/100 (Recovering from atrophy)
Stamina: 15/100 (Risk of exhaustion after 10 laps)
Reflexes: 35/100 (Body lag detected)
Adrenaline: 100/100 (Ready to race)
[ SKILLS ]
Cornering Theory: GRANDMASTER (Soul Bound)
Braking Technique: GRANDMASTER (Soul Bound)
Mechanical Sympathy: EXPERT
Physical Execution: NOVICE (Hardware limitation)
[ SYSTEM POINTS (SP): 0 ]
Current Quest: Pass Technical Inspection (COMPLETED)
Reward pending...
Marco sighed. His mind was a Ferrari engine dropped into a bicycle. "Grandmaster theory, Novice body. This is going to be a balancing act. If I push too hard, the chassis meaning my bones will fail."
"ATTENTION PADDOCK," the loudspeaker crackled. "BEGINNER GROUP A. FIVE MINUTES TO PIT LANE OPEN. BEGINNER GROUP A."
"That's us," Jiro called out. "Helmet on, Kai!"
Marco snapped the visor shut. The world became quiet. He swung a leg over the NSR. Jiro pushed him toward the pit lane queue.
The queue was a sea of motorcycles. Most were modern 250cc and 400cc sportbikes Ninjas, CBRs, the occasional Duke. They were quiet, polite machines.
And then there was Marco.
Braaaap-brap-brap-brap!
The NSR smoked and vibrated, an angry hornet in a garden of butterflies.
As they waited for the marshal to drop the flag, Marco's eyes wandered to the "Advanced Group" pit garages. They were separated by a chain-link fence. Inside, there were tire warmers, paddock stands, and serious machinery.
And there it was.
The bike Jiro had warned him about.
It was sitting on a red carpet literally, a piece of red carpet under a Yamaha tent. A brand new Yamaha YZF-R3. It had Ohlins suspension, a full Akrapovic titanium exhaust system, and carbon fiber fairings painted in a sleek, matte black and gold livery.
Standing next to it was a boy with bleached blond hair, wearing a pristine white Alpinestars suit that probably cost more than Jiro's van. Ryu.
Marco felt a magnetic pull. Towards the machine. He focused his gaze on the R3.
Ding!
[ RIVAL VEHICLE DETECTED ]
[ WOULD YOU LIKE TO ANALYZE? (First scan is free) ]
[ YES ] / [ NO ]
"Free is my favorite price," Marco muttered. [ YES ]
[ SCAN COMPLETE: YAMAHA YZF-R3 (RACE SPEC) ]
[ ADDED TO DATABASE ]
A translucent window popped up, overlaying the real bike with wireframe schematics.
[ VEHICLE ID: YAMAHA_R3_2025_RYU_CUSTOM ]
--------------------------------------------------
[ CHASSIS SPECIFICATIONS ]
Frame: Steel Diamond Type (Modified stiffness)
Suspension: Ohlins NIX30 Cartridge Kit (Front) / Ohlins STX46 Shock (Rear)
Tires: Pirelli Diablo Supercorsa SC1 (Soft Compound - Slicks)
Weight: 158kg (wet)
[ ENGINE SPECIFICATIONS ]
Type: 321cc, Inline 2-cylinder, 4-stroke, Liquid-cooled
Max Power: ~48 HP @ 11,500 RPM (Tuned ECU)
Torque: Linear power curve. Very forgiving.
Electronics: Quickshifter (Up only), Slipper Clutch, Piggyback Fuel Controller.
[ PERFORMANCE ANALYSIS ]
Top Speed: ~190 km/h
Cornering Stability: High. The suspension absorbs mistakes.
Weakness: Heavy compared to 2-stroke. Engine braking is significant.
[ SYSTEM NOTES ]
This machine is "The Armchair." It is designed to be easy to ride fast. The rider does not need to manage the power band; they simply twist and go. The electronics mask poor throttle control.
--------------------------------------------------
Marco smirked inside his helmet. "So, it's a computer on wheels. 48 horsepower... heavy steel frame... and a slipper clutch to save him if he downshifts too early."
He patted the tank of his NSR.
"Hear that, old girl?" he whispered. "He has 48 horses. We have 45. He weighs 158 kilos. You weigh 130. And we have no computer to save us."
The NSR vibrated in response, the revs climbing slightly as if it understood the challenge.
"Beginner group doesn't race against the Advanced group," Marco reminded himself. "But lap times don't lie."
The marshal at the gate waved the green flag.
Takashi, on his Ninja 250, stalled immediately. "Oh god!" he yelled, paddling his feet.
Marco didn't stall. He feathered the clutch the friction zone was razor-thin on a race-tuned 2-stroke. The engine bogged for a millisecond, then hit the power band
The front wheel went light. Marco tucked in behind the small windscreen. The purple suit blurred.
He entered the track. The asphalt stretched out before him, a gray ribbon of destiny.
"Okay, body," Marco gritted out, feeling the G-force press him into the seat as he accelerated toward Turn 1. "Don't fail me now."
He approached the first corner. The other beginners were braking early, sitting upright, terrified of the lean angle.
Marco didn't brake.
He shifted his weight. His knee encased in the neon purple leather swung out.
The sound of the knee slider hitting the tarmac was the most beautiful music he had heard in his second life.
[ QUEST STARTED: THE DEBUT! ]
[ CURRENT LAP: OUT LAP ]
[ OBJECTIVE: WARM THE TIRES. DO NOT CRASH. ]