Gojo’s gloved hand finds its way to his helmet, making sure his visor was down, concealing his pale blue eyes from the bright sun before it hurriedly goes back to wrap his fingers around the steering wheel.

He could feel his heartbeat thumping in his chest, and it was so loud he swore others could hear it as well. A small sigh slips past his lips, the sound of the start lights above greeting his ears along with the engines of the other open wheel cars nearby.

“Aaand the Japanese Grand Prix is underway!” The announcer roared out, and everyone practically took off. Gojo goes off, careful to not bump into the other racers– as much as how tempting it is to slow down others, it’d only risk his own vehicle and chances of speeding.

20 racers, 19 people he has to beat. And a ridiculous amount of time to finish all the laps. But this was what he had trained for.

He soon found himself to be a bit behind, and saw an opportunity near the curve of the path as he immediately moved to overtake another racer, feeling a grin making its way to his face underneath his helmet.

The next few laps were nothing too interesting, Gojo managed to hold his rank for a long time, occasionally getting cut off but instantly making a comeback after.

When he made quick stops for the tyre, he would send off brief smirks at his team, or receive a pat on the shoulder from Shoko and Geto.

He felt like he was fucking high on drugs by how thrilling the race was, the whip of the wind, the feeling of his automobile turning.

Laps, after laps, after laps.

He felt like his body was going to explode by the time it was the 53rd lap. The cheers got louder, the announcers hyping everything up as he felt his body burning up with adrenaline.

“Ryomen Sukuna is close behind Satoru Gojo– and are they going to bump?!” The announcer yells out, while Gojo grits his teeth unconsciously underneath his helmet, his posture tense.

Nah, I’d win.

He narrowly misses Sukuna’s vehicle, causing him to lag behind by a few centimetres. “Oh my God, and Ryomen Sukuna successfully went past Satoru Gojo, both chasing after the lead!” The speakers roared, Gojo’s heart rate going through the roof. He swore he felt like getting a heart attack. Or maybe he’s just too excited. Breathe, Satoru, fucking breathe.

Gojo turns the wheel and manages to overtake Sukuna, chuckling quietly as the announcer goes wild, so does the crowd.

“Satoru Gojo might be able to take the lead, and everyone is screaming in their seats!”

He’s so close, so so clos–

A car then zooms past him, his eyes widening in shock.

“And holy! The man himself, Anon has been catching up to the pair, and woah! There it is! Anon takes the lead of the Japanese Grand Prix!” The announcer cheers as Gojo takes in second place, his automobile halting a few meters away as he got out of it, staring at Anon with genuine surprise, his fists clenching as he held back his frustration. He’s not one to be sore over a loss like a child.

“Anon had made an unexpected comeback by overtaking both Ryomen Sukuna and Satoru Gojo, and has lead Satoru Gojo by a small 1.7 seconds!”

Later on, he walked up to Anon, taking off his helmet as he held it under his left arm. Gojo smoothly extends his right arm for a handshake and couldn’t fight the upcoming smirk off of his face. Sure, he didn’t get first place, but damn, if he isn’t impressed by this guy.

“That was a good game. You comin’ to the afterparty?” Gojo questions almost curiously, his blue eyes taking in Anon’s figure as his extended hand waved, urging for a handshake.