Hiiragi--39-s Practice Diary -final- -k-drive-- Instant

The engine roared, then died. Not with a cough, but with a clean, obedient silence. Hiiragi pulled off her helmet, shaking loose a braid of ink-black hair. The digital dashboard of the K-DRIVE flickered, then displayed a single line:

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. Hiiragi--39-s Practice Diary -Final- -K-DRIVE--

She turned and walked away, leaving the K-DRIVE resting in the middle of the lobby, still warm, still humming, still dreaming of speed. Behind her, the screen faded to black—then lit up one more time, just for a second, with a new file name:

She slid off the saddle and pressed her palm to the bike’s cool alloy frame. “You did good, old friend.” The engine roared, then died

Then she opened the throttle, and the world blurred into light.

The K-DRIVE’s screen flickered, then displayed words she hadn’t programmed: The digital dashboard of the K-DRIVE flickered, then

Hiiragi sat there for a long moment, breathing hard. Then she dismounted, legs trembling, and looked back at the shaft. Nine hundred meters of impossible turns. And she’d conquered every one.