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Assistant: Title: coanda effect
        Author: bunniehoney bunniehoney 
        Chapter: 2/24 
        Summary: Coanda effect: noun (Co·an·da effect) (kō¦andə-, -än-) : the tendency of a fluid jet, such as airflow, to be attracted to a nearby surface. Used in motorsport and car design by aerodynamicists to help divert airflow to specific areas of the car.
 -“Yo, Satoru.”Getou Suguru looks older. His hair is longer. He still has the same small scar along the left side of his forehead from 2013. It’s fainter, now, than it was then.“It’s been a while.”It's been seven years, but who's keeping count?-Or, the JJK motorsport AU based on Formula One.
            
            
  Noun. out lap (plural: out laps) (in reference to motor racing) In qualifying, the (non-competitive) lap on which one exits the pit lane and prepares for a flying (competitive) lap , to set grid positions for the grand prix or other feature race.
        Contents: Chapter 2: ii - lock-up
    

    

        
          
          
            
  Verb. Locking up, to lock up (in reference to motorsport) - used to describe a driver braking sharply and 'locking' one or more tyres whilst the others continue rotating. Tyre smoke and flat spots are common side effects. Also used as a noun: referring to a lock-up.

          
        

      
        
          Happy Shibuya anniversary!hey so new title. rip old title you'll be missed. content warning for description of a crash and injuries related to racing, as well as some diet talk that isn't entirely healthy. please comment (i will kiss you if you comment and tell me thoughts) i love reading them. i will kiss you ON THE MOUTH if u comment.(note: my knowledge of karting is incredibly limited, and it's impossible to find info on, don't squint too hard at it, please. thanks. also at the ages of race engineers. i mostly needed names to fill spaces.)EDIT 2/11/23 - this chapter has been heavily edited, worth a reread :)enjoy!
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    
   2001, Japan 
 In his third full year of karting, Getou moves up an age category. Shoko does as well, and Gojo is in the same category as them, too, when he’s here, and not off in Europe racing all over the place. It’s mostly Italy, Suguru thinks. Apparently he’s popular over there. And in France. And England. He knows everyone. He knows all the Grade One drivers, because his dad only retired two years ago and they go to races to see his friends. Which means that when Satoru races in Japan, he always has wild stories to tell. Like: “In Monaco, there are all these boats, and I saw someone do a flip off one into the water!” And:“We were right in the pitlane in Monza, and they were putting more fuel in the car, and- it splashed, and the car exploded!” Shoko gasps, and her eyes widen. She doesn’t get to watch the races, even on TV. “Was the driver okay?” “Yeah, yeah,” Satoru says, waving a palm around dismissively, “the car was on fire, though, and it looked so cool.” “How was the driver not on fire?” Shoko scrunches her nose.“He was.” Satoru shrugs, “but they had fire extinguishers, and they splashed water on him.” Suguru, had, of course, seen it on TV. The commentators were shocked by it. But seeing it in real life must be different. So he listens to Satoru. “I wouldn’t want to catch on fire,” huffing, Shoko leans back into the grass, putting her paper plate down in front of her. They’d just eaten dinner. Suguru’s was soggy and felt weird in his mouth, so he left most of it on his plate. “If you race in Grade One, it’s always a risk. It’s dangerous!” He says it like it’s something to be proud of. Maybe it is. Suguru knows that even karting is dangerous. Someone broke their leg in a crash one weekend. He’d watched them scream in pain. But he hasn’t crashed badly. A crash can be avoided. You can turn out the way. A fuel splash would be completely someone else’s fault. Suguru doesn’t like that. But Satoru isn’t afraid of danger. He’d cut someone off in their race today, and they spun onto the grass. If they hadn’t yielded, Satoru would’ve crashed into a barrier.  But the other driver had  yielded. So they’re sat outside their three motorhomes, parked side by side in the grass, as the sun sets. Satoru’s is in the middle. They mostly hang out there, because his parents don’t come to races with him, so they can be loud and messy. It’s also loads bigger than even Shoko’s motorhome. Suguru’s is pretty small. They never hang out in his motorhome.“I wanna race in Grade One,” Shoko says, indignant, like Satoru had accused her of not wanting it as badly as all of them. Suguru guessed it would be the dream of most kids here with them, though. “I’m going to race in Grade One.” Satoru repeats back, with absolute certainty. “And if I catch fire, I’m gonna finish the race anyway.” “That’s not how it works, idiot,” Shoko shakes her head at him, “if the car catches fire, you have to retire.” Satoru shrugs like he could find a way around it if he wanted to. He probably could. “It would be so cool if we all raced in Grade One. Imagine us on the podium together.” Suguru smiles at the thought. All three of them winning races, driving fast cars, jumping off boats in Monaco. “What team would you drive for?” “Keicho, obviously!” Sticking her chin out, Shoko looks proud of her decision. “They’re so good,” Satoru wrinkles his nose. Over the last couple summers, Suguru has learnt that means he’s thinking, or disgusted. Sometimes both. “That was my dad’s team.” “Do you not want to drive for your dad’s team?” Suguru thinks his voice sounds small, unsure all of a sudden. “No.” Satoru says, “I don’t." — As a reward for winning a race, Suguru’s father allows him to have a phone. A real one. Satoru doesn’t pay it any mind: he already has a much newer, cooler phone, after all. But they exchange numbers, and his parents make Satoru promise not to text Suguru when he’s in Europe.Satoru has a single game on his phone: snake. The two of them spend hours playing it in between races. Satoru shows Suguru his pokemon collection, all shiny and new in a folder. Over the course of the summer, Suguru convinces him to take out the cards, one by one. They play proper games with them, and Suguru beats Satoru again and again. And again. “It’s not fair!” “You win all the time and I don’t get mad,” Suguru doesn’t mean pokemon cards. He means racing. Satoru frowns. “But that’s different.” “How? We still win and lose.” “That’s skill! This is luck.” “You’re just saying that because you’re worse than me at something,” Suguru teases. “No I’m not!” Satoru replies, indignant. “You have to get lucky with the cards you get! Otherwise it’s all useless.” “You got lucky having a dad who drives in Grade One.” It’s meant as half a joke, half a point proven. But Satoru crumples, “my dad has nothing to do with it.” Suguru wants to say his dad has everything to do with it. Has everything to do with why Satoru has triple his experience driving, even though they’re the same age. “Okay.” They go back to playing pokemon.  —
  
  
When they’re both on the podium together, Satoru in first, Suguru in second, soaked in not-champagne, Satoru slicks his hair off his forehead and looks at him. His eyes are bright. Have they always been that bright, or is it the summer sun?“I don’t like racing in Europe.” “Europe’s not a country.” Suguru says. He’s been learning about all the different countries at school. “I know it isn’t.” Satoru replies. “But you’re not there with me when I win. I want you to be with me on the podium all the time.”Suguru clutches his second place trophy. He’s doing well, his coaches say. The talent scouts like him. They’re talking about trying to get him in a karting league with a more powerful kart, but they can’t afford it, his dad says. But Satoru says it so bluntly. His skin prickles. It must be from the not-champagne. “I can’t afford to go to Europe.” “You should come with me. We’ll take you. We can watch real races together.” Suguru grins at him. It’s a nice dream.  —
  
  

   March 2022, Bahrain 
 Gojo wants to scream. He wants to lunge for him. He wants to grab the back of his neck and thread his fingers through his hair. He wants to cry and beg like he didn’t back then, to know why Getou felt the need to leave after a decade of knowing him. Longer, probably. They met when they were like, ten. Getou left when they were twenty three. Just before his twenty-fourth birthday. None of those reactions, however, would be appropriate for the paddock, let alone the pitlane, so he just scowls. “Here to poach our tactics?” Getou laughs, easy and open, like Gojo had just suggested the most ludicrous thing to ever exist. “No, of course not. We can come up with our own strategy. Our own car.” “I know. So why are you here.” “I can’t visit an old friend?” “No. Go back to the Scuderia,” Gojo says, and stalks away to the pitwall, looking at Shoko. She too looks like she’s seen a ghost, swallowing as she looks at Getou. “Shoko.” “Suguru,” she replies, blinking slowly. The reply is so quiet, that Getou must not hear it over the roar of engines, the whir of the garage. But they’ve known each other so long that they can read each others’ lips. Getou nods, and reaches out to clasp Yaga’s hand. “Sorry for the way things ended. I hope we can give you a good fight.” “Of course.” Yaga, to his credit, also looks a bit shell shocked, but he’s handling it better than Gojo, it seems. At least from the outside. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Gojo would. Gojo would like Getou back at Jujutsu Tech. But he’s probably the only person in the whole garage who wants that, so he says nothing. He might be the only person in all of Grade racing that wants that, too, all things considered. Getou’s departure from racing was explosive, sudden and entirely unpredictable. He’d broken his contract to do it: he almost got sued by Jujutsu Tech for breaking clauses that guaranteed him being a driver for the next two years, at least. After you break a contract once, it spreads throughout the paddock and you’re unlikely to ever get a position back in Grade racing again. Except, Getou’s circumstances had been “exceptional”. Whatever the hell that means. Gojo thinks he was just running from a fight. Being a coward. He thought, at the time, that it was the common sentiment in the paddock. But it hadn’t been, and honestly, Gojo doesn’t particularly want to find out what the common feeling about it actually was. Either way, it left shockwaves. Especially when the reporters hounded him about it for the entire half of the first season without him. And then Gojo had changed his number back to one at the end of the season, to mark his third world championship, and the world had gone a little dull for a while, even with all the race wins and driving an utterly dominant car. Sharing podiums with Nanami was never the same, not really.They crowd into the office, huddled around screens, headphones on, recording every sentence, and Yaga starts the meeting with harsh, biting words. “So, I know that some people have been here since Getou was a driver, and you might be familiar with him. I want to make clear that if anyone is caught talking to him beyond small talk, you will lose your job.” A ripple of shocked murmurs travel through the room. All eyes go to Gojo, and he leans back in his seat. Of course they’d think this was his prerogative. It isn’t. Yaga clears his throat. “Am I understood?” When a chorus of  yes  ’s and  yes sir’ s come back at him, he sighs. “And I want everyone to be especially careful with any Keicho team member this year, including the other mechanics and all of the staff they hire.” Gojo can’t meet anyone’s eyes. But he knows they’re looking at him. Like this is his fault. Like Getou being their biggest enemy on the field this year is his fault. Like him blowing up and leaving racing altogether for five years or something was his fault.“What about Yuuji?” Megumi’s voice comes out small. Judging from the look on his face, he has to work hard to keep his voice from shaking. The two of them are close. Everyone in the paddock knows it. Enough that they get pulled together for pressers more often than not, enough that they got filmed together last season at the awards: rookies of the year. “Be careful about what you say. But of course, there’s media demand for the two of you together, you are friends, use your best judgement.” Gojo rolls his shoulders back in his seat. “Now that that’s out the way, let’s get to Gojo’s data, shall we? Before we have to be back on track with Megumi.”  — The first race of the season is Bahrain. Gojo prefers it to starting the season all the way in Melbourne, but it brings its own challenges. One: the triple header that isn’t considered a triple header. From the start of preseason testing to the end of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, none of them will go home. Gojo and Megumi would probably have the option to, but the jet lag from going back to Europe for a whole two days would outweigh any comfort they got from doing so. But because there’s only two actual races, the higher-ups only consider it a double-header, not a triple. Undermining the amount of work the mechanics do, as usual. The drivers’ days, by comparison, are pretty clear. Whilst everyone else in the team works on adjusting the car, all Gojo and Megumi have to do is turn up, look over data, and drive. The simulators are too big to bring with them on the road, so most of their job consists of training, following the meal plans, and doing whatever the media team want them to do. But even media and PR can’t take up all their time. So there’s time to explore. On one of the first nights, before things get too hectic with development and tyres and god knows what else, Gojo takes Shoko out to dinner. Somewhere nice. It had become a tradition when his paychecks got so ridiculously large and hers stagnated. They talk, and they laugh, and she finishes a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu, and it’s good. Nice. She smokes a cigarette outside. Gojo watches. He wishes he could have some, but he’s an athlete. “I thought you stopped smoking.” He says anyway, even though he knows the reason she has it perched between her lips. “Been stressed lately.” Is all she says in return.  — Gojo sees Getou in the paddock, when he’s there to look over data. He does not wave. He does not look at Getou’s smile, or the way he pats Yuuta on the shoulder encouragingly. He doesn’t.  —
  
  
Megumi and Gojo, even though they look completely different to one another, are pretty similar in a lot of ways. So Gojo knows, as soon as he walks into the sponsor event, and sees Megumi looking like a wallflower by himself in the corner of the room, that they’re both going to hate this. In all fairness, they don’t have to do things like this very often. Jujutsu Tech is known for impressing its sponsors with results, not schmoozing. Gojo likes that about them: the honesty, the straightforwardness of it all. But every now and again, the racing federation will organise events like this for all the teams and drivers en mass, for the supporters of the sport. And then, they really have to go, and ignore the temptations of canapes and alcohol that they’re not allowed this close to a race. It’s a launch party, of sorts, celebrating the start of the new season. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, gold detailing, and Megumi is dressed the same. Team colours. He wanders over, slinging an arm over Megumi’s shoulder. “How’re you doing?” Megumi flushes, and stiffens under him, and it is then that Gojo realises, rather belatedly, that he’s talking to a girl. And then, all Gojo can get out is a “oh,” because she looks almost exactly like Shoko. Just with lighter hair. And younger, obviously. She’s wearing a long dress that stops just below her knees, with a flat neckline. It’s clear she didn’t choose it herself. “I’ll get out of your way-” “No, stay,” Megumi says, cheeks still a furious red, and Gojo laughs. “It’s like that?” He takes a good look at the girl, who is staring at him with mild disgust. “No, it’s not like that,” she bites, “why does everyone assume that?” Gojo laughs again, because that was Shoko’s exact response whenever a reporter asked if she was dating Getou or Gojo. The last time she got asked it, she’d simply said “they’re too preoccupied tearing each other apart to date anyone.” Getou had gotten a few awkward questions after that. “Got it.” Gojo says, smiling at her. “You are?” “Kugisaki Nobara.” Oh. She’s the other rookie for this year. Gojo had heard of her, her fiery temperament, her undeniable talent, even though she was a little more raw than Megumi, and thus got shunted to a much less competitive car. She’s also a teammate to a Zenin. So Gojo is a little scared for her. Zenins don’t have a reputation for being the cleanest racers, especially when they feel threatened. But then again, Megumi is technically a Zenin, and so is Mai, and both of them race incredibly cleanly. Probably more so than Gojo. “Ah, I’ve heard of you, you’re from a small village in Japan, right?” Nobara groans. “I’ve already got a reputation for being some country bumpkin, and I’ve never even said where I’m from in interviews!” “He doesn’t watch interviews.” Megumi says, deadpan. He’s right: after the absolute shitshow of 2014, Gojo had resigned himself to not looking at press releases or social media surrounding racing at all. Not that he looked at it much in the first place. It gives him an out when he’s asked awkward questions. But he guesses it’s been a double-edged sword as of late: he hadn’t seen anything of the rumours of Getou returning to the paddock. Nobara frowns at him. The freckles on her face squeeze closer together as she does. “How do you not see anything? You’re Gojo Satoru,”Gojo shrugs, “I’m not interested.” He isn’t, most of the time. Nobara shrugs. “I thought you’d be one of the drivers who like, watches fan-cams of himself, you seem like the type.” “Self-centred,” Megumi adds on, nodding solemnly. “Hey!” Gojo says, with no heat behind his tone, “I object to that,” “What’re you guys talkin’ about?” Yuuji shuffles over, popping a canape into his mouth. Megumi narrows his eyes at him. “Are you allowed that?” Yuuji shrugs, “one won’t hurt. Don’t tell Getou. Or Todou.” All four of them shudder at the mention of Yuuji’s race engineer. Gojo shudders extra for the mention of Suguru. Todou is- he’s intense to say the least. Gojo has only met him a few times in passing, and Yuuji does genuinely like him: enough to poach him from Sengoku and take him in the move to Keicho. Nanami, in turn, had taken Ino from JTR, so Megumi has a new engineer for the season. They have a good relationship, probably one of the best engineer-driver pairings on the grid, along with Gojo and Shoko. It doesn’t change the fact that in Yuuji’s rookie season, Gojo had definitely seen Yuuji running away from Todou on multiple occasions. He’s hidden him in the Jujutsu motorhome, once. “You’re lucky with your metabolism.” Nobara glares, “I can’t have any of this food.” Megumi huffs, gesturing vaguely down at Toto. “Well, I can’t have any either.” “Lighten up!” Gojo says, even though he can’t exactly gorge on canapes the way he wants to, either, “it’s only for the season!” Nobara groans, loudly, and tries to wiggle out from underneath, “we’re supposed to be acting sophisticated!” Yuuji laughs at her from his place under Gojo’s arm. “Hello.” Turning to the source of the voice, Gojo frowns. Yuuji scrabbles to stand upright, and Gojo swears he can see his hair standing on end slightly. He understands, after a moment, because Getou is the one standing in front of them. His expression is lightly amused, with an arched eyebrow giving absolutely nothing away. “Sorry I was eating canapes.” Yuuji blurts out, and Nobara slaps a palm to her head. Getou laughs, and Gojo frowns. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. “You’re too strict on yourself, Itadori. The eighty kilo rule exists for a reason.” Yuuji flushes even brighter red, and doesn’t say anything. Getou looks between the remaining three of them, and nods. “Nobara, Megumi. Gojo.” Megumi bows his head in a show of respect. Nobara just looks quizzically between them.“I’d appreciate it if you stopped getting in my driver’s head,” Getou says. Gojo splutters. “ Your  driver?” He’s known Yuuji way longer! He’s been coaching him since he was in Grade Three! “Yes, my driver.” He’s completely impassive, not reacting. “Yuuji, I have a sponsor that wants to meet you. It seems his daughter is quite the fan.” “Oh, okay!” Yuuji perks up at that. He likes meeting kids. It’s easier, meeting kids, than it is meeting adults. “I’ll see you later,” And with that, Getou is walking away, his hand on Yuuji’s shoulder as the younger chats animatedly over him. “What the f@ck.” Nobara blurts, “what was that? That was so tense.” It suddenly occurs to Gojo that Nobara might be one of the only drivers on the grid that doesn’t know their history. Whatever. Someone else can tell her. “I’m going to the bathroom.” He says, and stalks past where Getou is standing next to Yuuta and Yuuji, looking on as the latter crouches in front of a small child. Gojo isn’t proud of what he does next, but it feels like a necessary evil. On his way past, he shoves into Getou’s shoulder, sending him stumbling half a step forward. He doesn’t look back to gauge his reaction.  — 
   Transcript from Thursday Press Conference One, Bahrain Grand Prix 2022 - Hosted by Yu Haibara 
 
   QUESTIONS FROM THE FLOOR: 
 
   Q (JULES BROOK - Grade Racing Journal): Question for all the drivers, please, what are your thoughts on how the new regulation cars drive so far? 
 SATORU GOJO : Ah, well. We’re not doing too badly with the bouncing, but it’s definitely a big change.  YUUTA OKKOTSU : I’m mostly in agreement with Satoru. The bouncing isn’t a massive issue for me, since I’m not particularly sensitive to the porpoising or the bottoming on the kerbs, but there’s a lot of drivers who are struggling. MAI ZENIN : It’s definitely something that the team is struggling with. My back isn’t keen on it, either, I’m already sore.  KASUMI MIWA : Uh- if I may- it’s definitely tough on us as drivers, particularly in teams where we haven’t figured out the correct ride height yet. I’m definitely struggling.
   Q (GRACE MACK - AEROSPORT WEEKLY): Question for Gojo and Okkotsu: Satoru, you’re competing for your seventh, record breaking world championship, Yuuta, you’re going for your second consecutive title. You’re definitely the two favourites going into this season, and the cars are very close on times on all tyre compounds - at the moment, the rest of the pack isn’t particularly close at all. Who do you think has the better chances this season? Who has the better car?  
 SG : You first. YO : Uh- it’s tough to say who has the better car or chances this early in the season, particularly before the first race. Gojo is a formidable opponent, and with some better luck last season, he would’ve been a lot closer to me in the points.  SG : Well, it’s me. I have better chances. I can’t comment on the car, yet, though, and I think that we shouldn’t be leaving Yuuji out of these discussions. He’s going to challenge us both, I think.  
   Q (LILITH DAVIES - Modern Motorsport):  Sort of a follow-up, then, for Gojo, the last time, and only time, you lost a title fight, it was against Suguru Getou, who is now managing Okkotsu for 2022. Are you feeling threatened by his presence amongst your rivals as you try to win a seventh championship?  
 SG : Well, first of all, I have been beaten in a title fight, by Yuki, so I’m not sure where you’re getting that information. Getou is not the only driver to beat me. 
   Q: Forgive me for carrying on, but 2011, you were in what was considered a wildly inferior car compared to Yuki, and still only lost in the last race. In a full season title fight, only Getou has managed to come out on top, and he’s the only driver to ever beat you in equal machinery. Kento couldn’t come close to you as a teammate in his tenure. So? 
 SG : Ha. When you put it like that- no. I don’t feel threatened by his presence in Keicho. We will do what we need to do to win, and I am not spending my time thinking about a long-gone rivalry from nearly a decade ago. 
   Q (JOSH KITCHENER - G1 Daily): Okkotsu, do you feel Suguru Getou has made a difference to the team, and is he the key to winning a historic championship with Keicho? 
 YO : Absolutely. He’s the answer to taking down Gojo in a championship fight, because he knows what makes him tick.  — Gojo lowers himself into the cockpit for qualifying on Friday, and sighs deeply. He stretches out his fingers underneath his gloves. He hears Shoko in his ears, replies down the mic for radio check. He takes a sip of his water then ignores it because it’s lukewarm, and tastes like a swamp. He feels for Megumi, who will probably have to use his drinks tube regardless of whether he likes it or not. “Projected knockout 1:32:5,” Gojo drives. “P4, P4, Megumi P8,” Gojo comes into the pits. Waits. Drives again.“Improvement, you’re on a 1:30:7, P3,” Shoko says. “You need to find time in sector two.” “What turns?” “Nine and ten,” “Are we going again?” “No, box and pit confirm, we’re well above the projected knockout,” Gojo drives. “Right, new softs going on, P1 is currently Itadori with a 1:30:7. He’ll be behind you, careful not to give him a tow.” “Yuuta?” “P2, 1:30:8,” Gojo drives. He crosses the finish line for the last time in the session. “Provisional pole, you’re on 1:30:5,” “Where’s Yuuji?” “Crossing the line about now- he’s P2, by a thousandth,” “What’s the full lineup?” Gojo asks, breathless, because having a Keicho one thousandth behind you is not the ideal gap to have. He’d like to have a tenth in hand, at least. “You, pole, Itadori, P2, Nanami P3, Okkotsu, P4, Utahime P5, Megumi is P6.” “How far is Megumi behind?” “Six tenths. Four hundredths separate the top four.” “Gonna be a fun race tomorrow,” Gojo says, as he pulls into the pitlane. Shoko laughs down the receiver, “yeah, for you. I’m going to be chain smoking on the pitwall.”  —
  
  
The gap between Gojo and Yuuji, for the entire race, is far too f@ck@ng close for Gojo’s liking. He thanks the stars when his opponent is subjected to a slow pit stop, whilst his own team changes his tyres in two seconds flat. It puts a few vital seconds between them, enough for him to be able to manage a power issue that rears its ugly head in the last five laps and still cross the finish line in first. Yuuta makes up a place against Nanami to finish in third. Megumi, with enough of a gap between him and the drivers behind, puts on softs to set the fastest lap: an extra point for the team, and a respectable P6 finish: pretty d@mn good for a rookie. He feels like he’s floating above the car when he steps out. It never changes: winning. This is something like the eightieth time he’s won (it might be closer to ninety, now) and it still makes his heart stop in his chest and brings a grin to his face. He raises his hand up to the sky, and twists his middle finger in front of his index, and roars into his helmet with the crowd. Then he’s sprinting to the barriers, jumping into his team, throwing himself at the mechanics. There are hands everywhere, all over his back, banging on his helmet and grasping at his hands. Then he gets to Shoko, who grabs both sides of his helmet and flips his visor up. Her expression is still serious as she looks at him. “It’s ours. It’s ours.” Gojo nods, smiling under his helmet, and turns around to see Yuuji clambering out of his car into Parc Ferme, stumbling slightly as he hits the ground. Gojo steps toward him, clasps their hands together and pulls him into a hug, messy and uncoordinated. He shouts, pulling Yuuji’s visor up, “tell your team thanks for the slow pitstop!” “F@ck you!” Yuuji’s eyes crinkle where he can see them, and he’s laughing. Yuuji runs off to his team, jumping on top of them, and Yuuta nods as he saunters past, ever the cool customer. Gojo pulls his helmet off, and his balaclava, and it is only then he looks. Getou is on the barriers. Gojo doesn’t know why he wouldn’t be: the team principals come to parc ferme and celebrate equally with the teams. But he’s here, and he’s shaking Yuuji’s shoulders, smiling at him like he’s just won instead of coming home P2 behind their biggest rival. He shakes Yuuta’s hand, patting him on his shoulders, and Gojo- He stares for a moment. Helmet in hand, chest still heaving from the effort of driving and running and screaming in delight. Because it wasn’t like that when he won. Getou didn’t- he didn’t do this. He didn’t smile, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t share in the reactions. Not at the end. Maybe when they were younger, driving for different teams, but not- not at the end. But he’s decided to grow up into someone Gojo needed back when they were in their twenties and winning world championships. Without him. Why couldn’t it be with him?He looks away, and follows the steward to be weighed.  — Yuuji looks at him funny on the podium. If Gojo squints, he can see lines of worry in Yuuta’s face, too, but he ignores it, raising a triumphant fist to the sky as he takes his rightful place on the top step. Yuuta gets him back for the podium in Abu Dhabi, and pours champagne straight down Gojo’s back. Yuuji slams his bottle down on the podium, and it sprays straight up the walls, painting them white for a moment as he tilts his head away and sprays Gojo straight in the face. When Gojo looks down, he does not see Getou’s smile as he wipes champagne from his eyes. He doesn’t. Because it’s not meant for him. It’s for the boys on the podium next to him. He wishes it was for him.  — 
   October 2001, Japan 
 After the karting series is over, Satoru uses his fancy phone to text Suguru and ask if they (him and Shoko) want to come with him to see the Grade One Japanese Grand Prix with him. At first, his parents say no. They say the tickets are too expensive, and it’s sold out, and it’s ages away, on the other side of the country, at Suzuka. Getou tells Gojo he can’t come, and Gojo texts him back, and tells him that he’s really sad and really wants him to come, and that they can pick him up. That seems to sway his dad. His mom is less convinced, but her opinion doesn’t matter when it comes to most things racing. So he goes. Suguru and his dad were expecting a car. What they were not expecting was a helicopter. But still, his dad waves him goodbye and tells him to be safe. “Hi!” Satoru waves from inside, grinning wildly. His canine teeth have started growing in his gums, and his smile is lopsided because of it. “Hello,” Suguru says, trying to be more polite because Satoru’s dad is there. He’s older than Suguru’s dad, and he has dark hair, dark eyes. Getou isn’t quite sure where Gojo gets his looks from. Maybe it’s his mom. Gojo’s dad doesn’t look at them. He is speaking on the phone their whole ride there, in English. Suguru doesn’t understand English. They land, on the helipad near the track. They’re immediately met with smiles and hellos and bows. Suguru feels like an alien. Satoru drags Suguru by the hand, pulling him towards the gates into the paddock. There’s security guards everywhere. Suguru suddenly feels the need to make himself as small as possible. He shouldn’t be here. Everyone is staring at him. But Satoru waves up at the security guard, and doesn’t drop Suguru’s hand. “Can we go in now?” The security guard frowns at Suguru, and winces, “where’s your dad?” “He’s slow.” Guard winces again. “I could let  you  in…” “He’s my friend, Suguru.” Satoru says, like it’s easy. Like he’s always going to get things to go his way. The guard is saved by the bell, then, because Gojo’s dad saunters up behind them, still typing something on his phone. Shoko and her parents are walking near to him, Shoko’s mother talking sweetly to Satoru’s dad, and she’s speaking English, too, he realises. Everyone is speaking English today. Gojo (senior) leans down and passes a lanyard and wristbands to Satoru, and says something in English to him. Satoru nods, and grabs at Suguru’s wrists to put a wristband on his left hand. “They’re so they know to let us in.” Suguru nods dumbly. He notices Shoko already has one, but it’s a different colour. As soon as the wristband is tied onto his hand, Satoru starts dragging them past security, his hand still looped around Suguru’s wrist as they run through the paddock. Shoko is running after them, and the only way Suguru can tell is because he can hear her giggling behind them. He wants to tell Satoru to slow down, because he’s never seen any of this stuff before. But no one seems to stop them, and they keep moving until Gojo seemingly finds what he’s looking for. He drags him up a flight of stairs, past more security, and suddenly, they’re in a huge, airy space that feels- It feels golden. They walk through the room. Everyone is dressed so smartly. They’re not looking at any of the screens, showing footage of the garage. They’re all talking to each other, eating, and laughing. Suguru feels lost. So he just follows Satoru. Shoko trails behind them both, smiling in her sundress. “Ah- Gojo,” Satoru stops in front of him, and Suguru looks up and baulks, because standing right in front of them, in a polo and sunglasses and with his hair neat, is Yaga Masamichi. Two-time world champion, Yaga Masamichi. Ex-Sengoku driver Yaga Masamichi. Who is referring to Satoru by name. “Yaga!” Satoru says, and then turns around and looks at Suguru, “this is Yaga, he’s my dad’s friend.” As if Suguru doesn’t already know exactly who he is! “Hi,” he stutters out. Yaga smiles warmly, despite Suguru looking like an idiot. Despite him feeling like an idiot, here in his best shorts and a Keicho team polo and a cap. “You must be Getou,” Yaga says, and ohmygodheknowsmyname - “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Suguru blinks. He is dreaming. There is no way he isn’t dreaming right now. “Really?” “Of course,” he says, with a booming laugh that carries easily, “you’re a natural in karts, so I’ve heard,” “Can you sign my cap?” Yaga laughs again and plucks it off his head, signing the top of it and writing something on the bottom. He pushes it back down onto Suguru’s head, pushing his hair all in different directions. When Suguru looks back at Satoru, he is frowning. Suguru immediately wilts. “Come on, let’s go see the pitlane!” Satoru says, pulling him away from Yaga rather abruptly. They push their way out to the balcony. They both have to stand on their tiptoes to see the action below them, the people milling about around the garages. Suguru recognises the red of Haien, the deep navy of Keicho and the stunning red of Meiji. He’s here, at Suzuka, watching with what his dad calls the best seats in the house. He touches his cap. Satoru frowns beside him. “Why’d you have to be weird?” “Weird?” “With the cap. Yaga’s my dad’s friend. He doesn’t wanna sign stuff when he’s here.” Suguru stalls. “I watched him on the TV. He’s a world champion,” “I know he’s a world champion, he won against my dad.” “Do you not like him because he beat your dad?” “No, he deserved to be beaten that year. He was driving badly.” “So, what’s the problem?” “You’re supposed to be my friend. You’re supposed to be cool, not like- some fan.” Suguru swallows the lump rapidly forming in his throat. He hadn’t meant to be embarrassing. He just wanted his cap signed. This is probably the only time he’s ever going to get to watch a race, or meet his favourite drivers, or have anything to do with Grade One at all. He wants to soak it in like a sponge. “Do you not have anything signed?” “Why would I have anything signed? It’s driving. I can drive. One day I’ll drive better than them.” Because the drivers are his dad’s friends. There isn’t a world where Satoru doesn’t make it into Grade One. It’s all laid out for him. Suguru stands, feeling stupid, but Shoko catches up then, and she’s pointing at the Meiji garage, because they’ve started moving. Satoru looks over the barriers with stars in his eyes, pointing at people that he knows- that his dad knows- it’s all the same. When he turns over the cap in his hands, he sees Yaga’s message. 
   Good luck in karting, kid. If Gojo likes you, I’m sure you’ll go far.  
 — They see Yaga again, and Suguru tries really hard to be normal, this time. Yaga talks about the cars, and Suguru soaks up every word about understeer being slow, his preferred way to take a certain corner, or the way he can finally eat what he wants now, he’s out of racing. Satoru talks back, sometimes. He knows a lot about the cars, too. Probably from his dad, spending so much time in the garage, or mechanics. Gojo’s dad doesn’t spend a lot of time with them. He’s absent, or when he is there, he’s speaking in other languages down the phone: English, French, Italian. Suguru originally doesn’t recognise the French, but Satoru tells him that his dad is fluent.  — After they’ve watched qualifying, Gojo Senior (Suguru still doesn’t know his first name) and Yaga and Shoko’s family all sit down for dinner together. For most of it, Shoko’s mom and Yaga and Gojo (Senior) all speak in English. Suguru feels stupid, for not being able to understand it. He asks Satoru later, in the dark quiet of their hotel room, what they were saying. Satoru speaks English, you see. He’s fluent in it. His accent is smooth and has barely any hints of Japanese at all. “Yaga’s gonna have a job at Keicho next season, as an engineer, or a strategist, I don’t remember,” Satoru says, “but he’s only doing it for a bit, because he wants to make his own team.” “Oh, that’s cool,” Suguru says. He’s not sure how someone goes about making a Grade One team. There are ten teams, and that’s it, he thinks. That’s the lot. “Yeah. I’m gonna drive for his team.” Satoru is so confident, is the thing. Like, it’s not a possibility. It’s a certainty. “What if the car isn’t fast?” Satoru shrugs. “It will be fast. I’ll make it fast.” There’s silence. It stretches forever. Getou kind of wishes Shoko were there with them to fill it. “You should drive for Yaga’s team, too. Then we can be in Grade One together.” Satoru called him embarrassing. He told him he couldn’t be a fan. He told him the signed cap was stupid. Satoru wants to drive with him in Grade One. He thinks he’s good enough to drive in Grade One. “Yaga doesn’t like me.” “Why?” “Because you said, he doesn’t like signing stuff.” “He likes you.” There’s that certain tone again. Like Satoru knows all. Maybe he does. He thinks back to the message in the cap. 
  
  
— 
   March 2022, Bahrain 
 Gojo is sticky from champagne, exhausted from the interviews, the photos, the running and spraying the mechanics in the pitlane. He wants to go to his drivers’ room, strip off all his clothes, put on new ones, and go back to his hotel. Some of the younger drivers are going out, he thinks. He heard Yuuji mention it to Megumi, and there’s some engineers going too. Todou will definitely try to wingman Yuuji to pick up some poor girl after a podium finish. As a prize, whatever the f@ck that means. The corridor is empty, so Gojo pulls the fireproofs away from his stomach, trying to get some air to his skin. He groans, rounds the corner- and- Finds himself face to face with Getou Suguru. “What the hell are you doing here?” He immediately pulls his fireproofs back over his stomach, protective, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I not say congratulations?” Getou sighs, a smile light on his face. It doesn’t land, his attempt at humour. Whatever the f@ck it is. Why is he in the Jujutsu motorhome? How is he in the Jujutsu motorhome? He should call security. Maybe the police. What’s the fine for being a creepy stalker?“Say congratulations in parc ferme, like everyone else!” Gojo grates out, “you had the opportunity to.” “You weren’t looking at me, Satoru,” The way it rolls off his tongue after so many years, Jesus f@ck@ng Christ . Maybe this conversation will end differently. With one of them against a wall. Hopefully it’s Getou, so Gojo can take his hands to his neck and squeeze him until he pops.  Okay, get a grip.  He doesn’t remember it eating him from the inside out when they were teammates. Not like this. He was mostly happy with what he had, though. His best friend as a teammate, two world championships, the whole world in front of him. The whole world is behind him now. All the fans, the other drivers on the grid, his team. It feels hollow. Like getting a purple sector and knowing that on its own, it won’t be enough. That you have to find more, more, and push to the limit until it hurts. “Of course I wasn’t looking at you. Do you remember how you left- how you left the team?”  How you left me? It’s unspoken, of course. That the greatest betrayal of Getou leaving Jujutsu Tech was his abandonment of Gojo. No one ever says it. Because everyone was pretty angry and sad when it happened, and there really wasn’t room for Gojo to act out when suddenly there was a new teammate, one who didn’t want to outrace him, and a new world championship to win. But Gojo knew before Yaga did. Gojo wasn’t surprised, when he left. It still hurt like a m@th@rf@ck@r, though, like having your heart ripped out of your chest with claws and teeth. And then when they realise you’re still breathing, shallow and panicked, they go for the lungs too. “I wasn’t doing well.” “I know you weren’t, but this team has a million f@ck@ng psychologists, and and nutritionists and performance coaches and they could have all fixed you if you just let them instead of running away like a coward,” It’s all said in one breath, punched out of Gojo’s lungs. He’s been waiting to say it for a long time, wishing there was an outlet, wishing Getou would hear him. He expects Getou to get angry about that, like he did the first time he said it, even though the first time, Gojo had said it meaner, with less words. Something like,  f@ck you you’re a coward just because you’re slower than me in the same car, why are you running away from me.  Getou doesn’t get angry. He just shrugs. “Sure, if you say so. Are we going to argue in the corridor, or will you let me in?” “We’re going to argue in the corridor, actually,” Gojo huffs, “because you went radio silent on all of us, then turn up like you didn’t hate the paddock, and Grade One, and everything about it, leading a team. And expect us to just- take it. It’s f@ck@ng- you’re embarrassing.” “I’m sorry for the way I left.” Getou says then, and Gojo’s heart stops in his chest. SOS, save our souls, Getou Suguru is capable of throwing up an apology. “Why did you do it then?”“I needed to.” Gojo doesn’t know what to say to that, apart from something pathetic, like,  I needed you, too. I needed you, I was in love with you and it was really f@ck@ng obvious to everyone, and I think you knew. And you stomped all over my heart like it was something replaceable. To be fair, maybe Gojo’s heart had been replaceable. With coke, or models who he didn’t even sleep with, or another world championship. He doesn’t say any of this, though. He swallows, instead, and coughs, anger giving way to awkwardness. “Right, well. Can I just- can I go and get changed?” Getou pushes his tongue into the side of his cheek. A habit, displayed when he’s unsure. He’s done it since they were kids. He’s done it since they were kids. He’s done it since they were-Getou shrugs. “Sure. But you need to stop looking at me like a kicked puppy in the paddock. People talk, and you’re really obvious.” He watches Getou walk away from him, and picks at a scab on his knuckle. He definitely knew.  —
  OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ONE - TOP TEN




POS


NAME


CONSTRUCTOR


POINTS




1


Satoru GOJO


Jujutsu Technical Racing


26




2


Yuuji ITADORI


Scuderia Keicho


18




3


Yuuta OKKOTSU


Scuderia Keicho


15




4


Nanami KENTO


Sengoku


12




5


Mai ZENIN


Meiji


10




6


Megumi FUSHIGURO


Jujutsu Technical Racing


8




7


Iori UTAHIME


Kyoto G1 Team


6




8


Mei MEI


Haein


4




9


Nobara KUGISAKI


Meiji


2




10


Miwa KASUMI


Haein


1



 
   OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS' CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND ONE 
 



POS


CONSTRUCTOR


POINTS




1


Jujutsu Technical Racing


34




2


Scuderia Keicho


33




3


Sengoku Racing


12




4


Meiji


11




5


Kyoto G1 Team


6




6


Haein


5




  
  

   — 

  
  

   March 2022, Saudi Arabia  
 The Jeddah Corniche Circuit was only introduced to Grade One racing last year, in 2021. For everyone, even the experienced racers on track like Mei Mei, Utahime and Gojo, it’s still new. Maybe that gives the rookies an upper hand: less experience to defend against, and less knowledge to catch up on. It makes Gojo excited on Megumi’s behalf, because he had a strong first race at Bahrain, and now he can capitalise on it further at a track where the upper half of the field have only one more year of experience than he does. Racing at new(er) circuits doesn’t make Gojo nervous. But nothing makes him nervous, so he guesses he’s a special case. Not even his worst crashes have made him anxious about getting back in the car. The most annoying thing after crashing is everyone crowding, coddling, trying to make it okay. Getou was the same way, when they raced together. He hated people checking up on him. So, when Yuuji has a rear suspension failure in free practice one, and goes headlong into the barriers on the exit of turn twelve, Gojo isn’t immediately scared. Not like he was when he saw the crumpled mess of Haibara’s car in 2014. But that was- it was different. Crashes were different, after what happened in 2013, and before the halo was introduced as a permanent feature in 2018. Even Gojo would be tense on the radio, waiting to hear if a driver was okay. But Getou always took them worse. Which was understandable, given some of the crashes he’d been involved in, over the years. The session is red-flagged. And Gojo climbs out of the cockpit in the garage, where he was already, because they’d bought him in to change tyres. If he was out on track, maybe he’d have slowed by Yuuji, tried to catch a glimpse and see he was okay. Here’s the thing about racing: when a crash is bad, the world stands still. You can tell if something is more than the average slam into the barriers or driver error. Everyone holds their breath. 
   Satoru, are you okay? Satoru. 
So when Gojo pulls up his visor and sees Shoko, hand over her mouth standing at the mouth of the garage, he allows himself to get nervous on Yuuji’s behalf. Because this is a bad crash. 
   Satoru. Gojo, are you okay? Respond, please. 
He pulls his helmet off. There was only twenty minutes remaining, this session, and with the carnage on track, it doesn’t look like it’ll resume again. “Is he out of the car?” Shoko shakes her head. They both turn to look at the Keicho garage, next to them. Yuuta’s car is pulling in, but Getou is rushing out to the pitwall, headphones on, speaking in rapid English down the microphone. 
   Gojo, please respond, turn off the engine, Gojo.  
There’s no footage on the screens, yet. But Getou is on the pitwall, and his shoulders are tense, and he’s grinding his teeth, Gojo can tell, he can hear it from here- “Sh@t,” Shoko swears, and looks at Gojo, “they’re saying no response on the radio. Medical car and ambulance being sent out.” It’s not really conscious, the decision to go to Getou. He doesn’t truly decide to start moving towards the Keicho garage, he just goes, dropping his helmet on the top of his car. When the staff members see him approaching, they just gawk with wide eyes, or don’t acknowledge him at all. Finally, they can see the screens. The broken off wheels of Yuuji’s car, the way it’s folded in on itself. The amount of debris on track. Gojo places his hand on the centre of Getou’s shoulder blades. He doesn’t ask if he’s okay: the answer to that is pretty clear. Getou looks at him, growls out, “why are you here.” “Red flags.” “I know that,” “Do you want me to go?” Getou shakes his head, then twists his mouth in discomfort at something being said down the radio. Then he pulls the microphone away from his mouth, “at the second race. Jesus.”“He’ll be fine. Might be a microphone issue.” “I’d like it if he got out of the car, if he has a microphone issue.” Gojo knows his words are false promises. The microphone cutting out is very rare, all things considered, and coupled with the fact no one has seen any movement from Yuuji, it’s a less likely option than- than something worse. Both of them turn at the sound of frantic footsteps approaching them. It’s Megumi, still holding his helmet, pulling off his balaclava, his entire face crumpled in on itself with worry. This is Yuuji’s first big crash. And Megumi had probably seen the debris in person. “Is he out? Is he okay?” “No.” Getou says, refusing to look at Megumi altogether. Gojo stretches out an arm, and Megumi goes to him. He’s shaking, Gojo realises, and he suddenly remembers all at once how close the two of them are. They grew up karting together, like Gojo and Getou did. This must be hell for him. Suddenly, there’s a burst of applause. They drag Yuuji out of the car, and while he doesn’t look good, he’s conscious, able to walk with some assistance, and in good enough spirits to lift his visor and gesture a vague thumbs up. Getou breathes out beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose, “thank God,” Gojo squeezes at his arm, and then drops it back to his own side. Megumi deflates beside him, too, and sighs. “I need to go back and get Toto,” he whispers, “I feel really faint,” Gojo lets him go, watching his tentative steps back towards the Jujutsu garage. He stays standing with Getou, who is still blinking, recovering. “Right. Well, I’m going to the hospital.” Getou says, curt and polite and professional. Gojo wants to see him angry, or to see him cry, or something about this. It was his driver, his car. “Are you not going to sort out the team, first?”“Yes, of course I am, but I have to be there when he’s admitted, Satoru. He has no family to be there for him.” “I’ll go.” Satoru blurts, and it’s really so stupid. He shouldn’t. Yuuji isn’t his teammate. He’s a grid friend who he mentors, sometimes. Getou narrows his eyes at him. So Gojo elaborates, “so he’s not alone. You can catch up. But I know I’d really like to gut whatever mechanic was responsible for that failure, and I’m sure you would too, so.” Getou sighs, and pulls the headphones onto his neck. “You hate me.” “Yeah, I do. But I’m asking to do this for you.”  — Gojo does end up getting there quickly enough to see Yuuji admitted. Nothing serious, they say. He’s lucky, they say. Winded, and bruised ribs, and possibly a mild concussion. Clear to leave, and to be kept an eye on. He can race, they say. Nanami comes a little later, as an ex-teammate, and a friend to both of them, and Getou, true to his word, arrives a little after. Nanami and Gojo stand back as Getou nods along with the doctors. “Say what you want about his racing career, but he is already an astounding team principal,” Nanami murmurs, and Gojo nods. Doesn’t say anything back. Yuuji walks out of the hospital on his own two feet, laughing and cracking jokes. When he sidles up to Gojo, he looks uncharacteristically serious. “Getou said Megumi was freaking out. Is he- is he okay?” “Yeah, he’s fine. He’ll probably be out in the car soon for free practice two.” “Shouldn’t you be out there, too?” Gojo shrugs, and looks at his watch, “there’s still two hours left ‘til it starts. Me and Nanami will head back. Are you going to your hotel?” Yuuji nods guiltily. “I can’t do anything else, can I? Since I wrecked the car.” “It was a failure. Not your fault. Just unlucky that it happened at high speed.” Yuuji still chews on his lip, picking at a hangnail on his index finger. They split at the doors, calling Yuuji a taxi back to the hotel, and Nanami gets into his own car, speeding away back to the track. It only has the one extra seat, and it’s already got his bag and a load of other stuff strewn across it, so Gojo and Getou stand, rather awkwardly, waiting for a taxi. “You didn’t have to come today.” “Yeah, I know,” “Why did you?” Gojo sighs. He considers lying. Decides against it. “You hate crashes. This is- it’s horrible, when you’re responsible. For a kid, out there. He’s the same age as the rookies this year, y’know?” Amanai Riko was in her second season. Haibara was in his first. “There was a similar issue on Yuuta’s rear suspension. We got it just in time, before it failed. No one checked.” Getou says, and Gojo knows he’s trusting him not to spill Keicho secrets right back to Jujutsu Tech. “It could have killed both of our drivers.” “It didn’t, though.” Getou smiles, soft. For the first time, it reaches his eyes. “Yeah, it didn’t.” “The real stress now will be trying to get that car put back together in time for tomorrow,” Gojo laughs, and Getou crumples. “Remember in 2012, when I wrecked the car in Q3, and the team hated my guts for the next month and a half?”“Don’t remind me. Everyone’s going to be working overtime for the next forty-eight hours.” “Great way to start your war with the cost cap, by paying out a bunch of overtime hours,” “As if Jujutsu Tech didn’t go over it last year,” Getou huffs, and then stills. “Thank you.” Gojo isn’t sure what Getou is thanking him for, but he’ll take it.  — 
   Transcript for Interview with Suguru Getou, Grade 1 TV, Pre-Qualifying Saudi Arabia Grand Prix 2022  
  YU HAIBARA : Hi, Suguru, good to see you again, and good to see Itadori lining up for qualifying today. How much of a challenge was it to turn the car around in time.  SUGURU GETOU : A huge challenge, but the mechanics and engineers pulled through in a big way. The team is working incredibly well together right now. YH : What about the rear suspension issue that caused Yuuji’s crash? Has that been identified and fixed? SG : Yes. It’s been fixed.  YH : How is Yuuji doing? SG : As strong as ever. He’s a resilient kid, and he’s excited to get back in the car and show what he can do. [laughs] I’ve not met anyone like him for a long time.  YH : It’s good to hear, after a crash like that, that he’s doing well. [pause] SG : Safety in the sport has come a long way.  YH : [laughs] Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine. What is the strategy for qualifying? SG : Yuuta is the one pushing today. For Yuuji, the aim is to get into Q3 and secure a top ten start for the Grand Prix. He is still recovering and we don’t risk our drivers. YH : Of course, the competition is with Jujutsu Tech, who are equal on points with you in the constructors going into this weekend. Gojo topped all three free practices, and his teammate was in P3 after free practice three, which is a marked improvement from last week’s results. Are you worried about them? SG : Of course, Satoru especially is quick, and Megumi is an immensely talented rookie. But we’re playing the long game, and both Yuuta and Yuuji are incredibly talented drivers, and we signed them as a duo for a reason.  YH : You have to go, of course, but thank you so much for talking to us.  SG : No problem. Good to see you. — Qualifying goes pear-shaped. A series of unfortunate events mean that Gojo qualifies P7, behind his rookie teammate, who starts in P3. Yuuta clinches a pole, and Yuuji is starting in P4, which means Gojo has a hell of a job tomorrow, if he wants another win. Or another podium. Shoko had been discussing alternate strategies with Yaga and the other strategists. A start on softs isn’t viable, especially since they have no new softs left. But starting on the hards is completely off the table too, and Gojo doesn’t fancy trying to make up ground on old hards in the final laps of the race. So: they decide on a two-stopper for Gojo: medium, hard, medium. The first set of mediums have been used for five laps, the second set is brand new. Megumi is also put on the infinitely less risky one stop strategy, starting on the soft to get away well, before moving to the hard to finish the race. But Gojo trusts his pit crew. So.  — 
   RADIO TRANSCRIPT HIGHLIGHTS - Saudi Arabian Grand Prix 2022 
  LAP 2 : IERI: Good pace, we are now P5, P5. Car ahead is Megumi. GOJO: Easy places. We’ve got the actual battle now.   LAP 12 :  KAMO: Megumi, we need to let Gojo pass this lap, let Gojo pass this lap. His pace is quicker. FUSHIGURO: Yeah, copy.   LAP 17 :  IERI: Gojo, safety car this lap, Kasumi is in the wall. GOJO: Box now? Box now? IERI: Copy. Box and pit confirm. GOJO: That was perfect timing, well done Miwa.  LAP 25:  KENTO: Who is the car behind, please? They’re gaining. INO: Gojo. He’s still two seconds behind, and on a two-stop. KENTO: But it’s Gojo. What’s his pace. INO: He’s currently point-five up.KENTO: ****.   LAP 30 : IERI: Nice overtake. We need to extend the gap to two seconds before boxing. GOJO: Understood.   LAP 35 :  IERI: Box this lap, box this lap. GOJO: Confirm. IERI: You will come out P6, behind Megumi. He will not give you any resistance.   LAP 40 :  KENTO: I cannot defend against him, on the new medium without burning through my tyre. I have no idea what you expect me to do. INO: Copy. Do not defend if you think you’ll sacrifice your pace.   LAP 45 :  ITADORI: Please tell me that’s Megumi behind. TODOU: It’s Gojo, he’s on a new medium.ITADORI: Are you ****ing kidding me, what am I supposed to do?TODOU: Defend. ITADORI: Real helpful!   LAP 47 :  GOJO: That took longer than I wanted, DRS helped though. IERI: Copy, car in front is now Okkotsu, gap two and a half seconds. Mode push, mode push. GOJO: Pushing.  LAP 50 :  MIGUEL: That is the chequered flag, P1, P1. OKKOTSU: Thank God, he was close at the end there. Needed one more lap, I reckon. MIGUEL: Yeah, good race and good defending. OKKOTSU: Who had fastest lap? MIGUEL: Gojo.OKKOTSU: Not surprised. 
  
  
—
  
  
P7 to P2 isn’t a bad run, but Gojo still wishes it were a P1 as he watches Keicho congratulate Yuuta. This time, when he catches Getou’s eye, he smiles and nods. He’s still jealous, but it’s less of a stabbing and more of a dull ache for now. He gets weighed - he only lost two and a half kilos this time, nice! - and gives his post race interview - yes, I’m happy, yes I’m still in the championship fight, no bad luck in qualifying doesn’t define my form right now.  Because the champagne isn’t alcoholic, and it doesn’t fizz, Gojo settles for pouring the whole bottle straight over Yuuji’s head. It’s not as good as a win, but seeing him next to them, grinning with all his teeth, after a crash like the one he had in practice is pretty f@ck@ng good. And so is Getou’s smile from below them.  — 
   OFFICIAL 2022 G1 DRIVERS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWO - TOP TEN 
 



POS


NAME


CONSTRUCTOR


POINTS




1


Satoru GOJO (=)


Jujutsu Technical Racing


45




2


Yuuta OKKOTSU (+1)


Scuderia Keicho


40




3


Yuuji ITADORI (-1)


Scuderia Keicho


33






4


Nanami KENTO (=)


Sengoku


22




5


Megumi FUSHIGURO (+1)


Jujutsu Technical Racing


20




6


Mai ZENIN (-1)


Meiji


16




7


Iori UTAHIME (=)


Kyoto G1 Team


8




8


Toge INUMAKI (+12)


Sengoku


8




9


Nobara KUGISAKI (=)


Meiji


6




10


Mei MEI (-2)


Haein


4




  
  
  
  
  
  

   OFFICIAL 2022 G1 CONSTRUCTORS CHAMPIONSHIP POINTS STANDINGS AFTER ROUND TWO  

  
  




POS


CONSTRUCTOR


POINTS




1


Scuderia Keicho (+1)


73




2


Jujutsu Technical Racing (-1)


65




3


Sengoku Racing (=)


30




4


Meiji (=)


22




5


Kyoto G1 Team (=)


9




6


Haein (=)


5




  
  
 
  
  

    
      
        
        
          the circuits referenced in this chapter are:theSuzuka International Racing Course (flashback to 2001 Japanese Grand Prix, but Suzuka will make more appearances later!), the Bahrain International Circuit, and the Jeddah Corniche Circuit, otherwise known as the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, if you're following along with the tracks, lol :)'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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