Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 1

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 29 pg 1

   CHRIS:

   Every day passes by quickly. I take my beloved car, freshly tuned by Phii Alan, out to run every day from morning to evening, lap after lap. The track’s still the same, every curve at the same angle, the same car, the same driver—me. Yet, I feel like a new person with every lap, or at least the same me with a bit more experience. It’s not meaningless, right?

   I used to think, back in prison, that I’d grown up a lot. From the massive mistakes that landed me there, and from learning to live with solitude. In prison, there were hundreds of inmates, living together like animals in a cage—not friends, not family.

   Some found real friendship. They met in prison and stayed friends even after one got out early. I saw it often—guys who got released would visit their buddies every week, giving inmates who never had family visits a name on the visitor list. Those guys were the lucky ones.

   Me, I had people to talk to, but no one I could fully call a friend. Winner liked to stir trouble, steal, and drag me into his messes more than once. Kenta, though, kept to himself. He didn’t seem to want anything to do with anyone. Sometimes, when I looked at him, I felt like he didn’t even want to leave that place. It was strange, and it could’ve been a good conversation starter between us, but I let it go. I knew Kenta wasn’t one for making friends.

   The first clear feeling I had after returning to the outside world was relief. Relief that there was still space for me out here. The only family I had welcomed me back with open arms, even though I was the one who broke those tight bonds in the past. The trust I thought I’d never feel again—they offered it like my mistakes never happened. That’s what I’m most grateful for.

   But there’s a slight disappointment. Lately, our team’s been quieter than ever. From what I remember, X-Hunter was never this scattered, even during off-season breaks. The garage and training track were always buzzing. Even if we were too lazy to train, we’d gather, play games on Dad’s giant console, or shoot pool—loser had to buy snacks for the whole crew. Some days, we’d each do our own thing: Phii Alan and Jeff tinkering with new car builds or ordering parts, Phii Babe training with Phii Way (and both taking turns coaching me), North playing model for Sonic’s fashion shoots for their YouTube channel, or running around annoying everyone until he got chewed out but still laughed it off.

   I know time moves forward every day, but I don’t know how to stop missing the days we can’t get back.

   Right now, I’m the one at the training track the most. Charlie’s been gone since he split with Phii Babe—I haven’t seen him since. Phii Alan and Jeff stop by the garage sometimes, but not as often as before. Jeff’s been helping Charlie a lot, so Phii Alan tags along, no choice. Phii Babe barely shows up at the garage anymore. He seems swamped with stuff to handle, and I don’t dare ask, no matter how much I miss his driving. As for North and Sonic, they used to come to the track almost daily before, especially when North was back in high gear, but…

   The spark of inspiration for racing came back, but things have shifted. Sonic, who’s no longer a racer, has been around to oversee practice sessions consistently. Lately, though, North seems caught up in something. He disappeared without much explanation, only saying, “Gotta help my brother.” Meanwhile, Sonic’s been getting work from Paris piling up, probably because he keeps delaying his return. The one sticking closest to the grind is Kim. Besides me, he’s the most regular at practice. But it’s a bit odd—he’s not pushing himself as hard as he did at first, and after sessions, he bolts home immediately. Won’t even grab a meal with us. Pol teased that Kim might be smitten with some girl, but I can’t picture someone like Kim falling for anyone.

   Something’s brewing—I know it. It’s not just Charlie’s situation blowing up into a national issue or Phii Babe getting tangled in the very thing he’s desperate to escape. Beneath the quiet loneliness right now, I can sense everyone on the team moving slowly, cautiously. They’ve got their own goals, ones they’re too scared to share. Even in a team that always called itself a family, it feels like our family isn’t as tight as I used to boast about.

   It’s a natural but heartbreaking shift. I know I might not have the right to say this, but I miss the old X-Hunter. The X-Hunter that was the top racing team, full of people passionate and driven about racing, a team that was both friends and family. Back then, we never thought about anything but racing. We could talk about cars day and night. But now, it’s painfully sad that even getting everyone together face-to-face feels beyond our reach.

   The person I’m most worried about right now is Phii Alan. I hope I’m just overthinking it, but the more I watch, the more I notice something off about our captain. He still does everything the same—still the big brother, the captain, the team’s pillar. But beneath that normalcy, I see a pillar trembling. It’s not wobbling yet, just faintly shaking in an eerie calm. In Phii Alan’s eyes, there’s something unfamiliar. Not because I’ve never seen it before, but because it doesn’t belong in the Phii I respect so deeply.

   I see something—something that once haunted my own heart, something that forced me to do things I never thought I was capable of, something wicked that branded sin onto my soul, my flesh, even now. I still wake up terrified every night dreaming of it, hating myself for once welcoming it, letting it consume every part of me and committing unforgivable acts.

   I hope I’m seeing things wrong.

   A loud clang, like heavy metal hitting the floor, rang out just a few steps after I walked into the garage. Instinctively, I quickened my pace, scanning left and right for the source of the noise, but found no one. Earlier, when I’d driven out to the track, there were a couple of mechanics tidying up, but now the place was deserted. So where did that sound come from?

   My eyes caught on a car I was sure wasn’t there before. I walked straight toward the bright orange RX-7 parked in the corner of the garage. Its hood was propped open, like it was waiting for a surgeon to dissect it. A metal toolbox sat open nearby, and the biggest clue was a large wrench lying on the floor. No need to check the cameras—I was certain that was the source of the noise.

   I glanced at the side door of the garage, left ajar, where faint smoke drifted lazily upward. Without a second thought, my legs carried me toward it.

   “Want one?”

   Phii Alan always greets me first. No matter when or with which teammate, he makes a point to speak up first. I think it’s his subconscious urging him to take the lead.

   I always have to make everyone feel seen. Even on the days when I was most upset with him, thinking he overlooked, ignored, or abandoned me, once the prejudice and resentment faded, I looked back with clear eyes, unclouded by fog. The truth became apparent, hammering home how foolish I’d been not to see the care of this big brother.

   “It’s fine, bro,” I replied, before slumping onto an old steel crate that used to hold equipment. Now it’s just a seat for smoking breaks. “I’ve quit already.”

   “Barely anyone’s still smoking these days, huh?” Phii Alan said flatly. His words carried a hint of alienation, like he felt out of place being among the few still reliant on those nicotine sticks. Yet his hand brought it to his mouth, taking a deep drag as if loudly proclaiming his stance.

   “Probably just me left in the garage who hasn’t quit.”

   “Why not take this chance to quit for good?” I said with a laugh, not entirely serious. “Since all the younger guys have stopped.”

   “Hmm… I’m thinking about it.”

   “Doesn’t Jeff ever tell you to quit?”

   “Nah.”

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