Chapter Text
Deep breath in, then out. The helmet and the balaclava over his head felt suffocating in a way it never had before. He closed his eyes as the pit crew cleared away from the grid so all twenty drivers could begin their formation lap. The crowd's roar reminded Izuku of the ocean, all white noise and spray, filling the air with vibrations and energy so bright, it felt tangible. Their screams were just as much fuel to his determination as the man set just beside him.
Katsuki had tried over the years to build the burnt bridge back again. Oftentimes it was when they were alone and no media had sight of them; Izuku could in theory unleash exactly how he felt but he never chose to. He preferred having Katsuki lost, in the dark about how and what Izuku felt.
Izuku could still feel the flutter of Katsuki's pulse under his palm where he grabbed his wrist from their momentary contact. Katsuki had done this morning something he hadn't in years. Touched Izuku’s shoulder; Izuku's immediate reaction was to get away.
They used to hug, shake hands, sling a lazy arm over the other's shoulder frequently. Now the concept made Izuku's stomach roil. He held his wrist, and he almost couldn't let go. The pang of want for contact with the man who used to be his best friend was so intense, it momentarily winded him. He even, like an idiot, whispered, "Kaccha- '' before he caught the nickname on his tongue, dropped his wrist, and left Katsuki looking wounded.
Being wounded might have worked in Katsuki's favour. Izuku wished with everything that he hadn't let that old name slip.
Katsuki Bakugou in his fire red Ferrari had gone only .002 seconds faster in qualifyings than Izuku to beat him for pole position. This wasn't unfamiliar to Izuku, being beside Katsuki. When they were teenagers, they started together at the front of the pack more often than not. But they were partners then, on the same team. The best of their generation. How did he end up here?
He swallowed thickly as the cars rolled into rhythm and they made their first corner going left. Even moving slowly, his veins were pumping intensely like he was running flat out. His heart hammered in his ears, a beat he would follow for the entire race. He sucked on the water spout and wet his throat as he allowed everything to rush into him.
He was going to win this race. He was going to win this championship for his team. He had to. This was the penultimate race of the season, and if the red eyed monster of a man won this race, that was it. There was an impossible chance to catch him in the next race. Mercedes could lose the championship, and Izuku would lose his title.
He couldn't not be world champion anymore. The anxiety that came with losing to him of all people made Izuku nauseous. Focus, Izuku rounded the final corner back onto the starting grid, their cars were almost side by side but Izuku was careful not to pass him in case he was penalised; the FIA had particular rules and seemed hellbent on punishing Izuku this year for things he found to be weirdly specific.
Focus , he inhaled and felt sick. He'd never felt pressure like this before, and it was all fucking internal. Everyone else knew he was doing his best. Pushing himself to his absolute limit.
The engine's roar filled his ears, the crowd almost drowned it out. The first red light came on, then the second, third, forth. There was an agonising second, waiting for lights out.
And they were off.
The force of the car accelerating flattened him in his cockpit. Adrenaline coursed through him and helped keep his concentration sharp. Steering this monster of a machine was a full body experience, the g-force of going upward of 300 kilometres per hour could do that.
He had gotten a perfect start. Except, he got a better one. Medium tires were meant to last them at least a third of the race, their starts needed to be perfect to pull away from everyone else who was on soft compounds; grippier rubber. They were alongside each other, but Katsuki had claimed the inside of the first corner, and he was half a car length ahead of him, then almost a full length, and Izuku gripped the steering wheel and shifted the car.
Katsuki was trying to claim the apex. And you never want to meet at the apex, it's where the worst of accidents can happen. Possibly. It was the fastest line on the track, hit all the apexes and it would feel like you were flying smoothly through the air, unencumbered by the weight of needing to win. He never wanted to meet anyone at the apex. But accidents happen.
He made contact, their wheels just touched and the car rocked, his body felt the brunt of it like being slammed into a wall. He gritted his teeth and corrected, accelerating. He'd catch him on the next straight, he could catch him-
Katsuki's car grew smaller. and panic rose in Izuku's throat like bile. He felt the shimmy of his car then, the tire made a whomp whomp whomp sound. A puncture. Fuck, Izuku slammed a fist against the dashboard.
"Puncture, front left." He radioed. This could ruin the race, he couldn't see if there was any more damage. He had the pace to make it back to the front of the pack, and he hoped there could be a safety car to slow the laps down. It was possible if anyone got too close on turn 5.
Izuku watched as his team mate, Tenya Iida went past him, and then the other Ferrari driven by Shouto Todoroki. He was losing seconds per lap. He needed to pit now. He waited to hear that the team was ready. "Box, box." He had his confirmation, and slowed to enter the pit lane as everyone zoomed past him at full speed to continue their race.
Izuku watched with growing anxiety as they removed the nose of his car and put a new one on. It ate up more than ten seconds, leaving him at a pit time of forty seconds. He reentered at the back of the pack on soft tires, he needed them to warm up so he could start pushing the car without risk of sliding. He clenched his jaw as he saw the last man on the grid, Lastima go past him as he merged, unable to go faster until- now.
In one move, he got around him, back into nineteenth. He saw the back of the eighteenth car, Crusoe, judging by the white body of the Haas. In one lap three corners, he was around him too, then he opened his DRS and got past the other two, Dunn and Sommer on the main straight. Up to fifteenth and it was lap twelve now.
The Brazilian track, Interlagos, had short lap times. They had fifty nine laps to go, he had fifty nine laps to get back to Katsuki. He prayed for a safety car.
He had to get past Keigo Takami, a once retired two time world champion who returned this season to give them all hell. And he was a wall when anyone tried to get past him. He made his team's car faster than it was meant to be, consistently placed top ten this season with a mid car, it was impressive, and now his biggest task. There was already a train of cars ahead of Izuku all bunched together; a hurdle before the wall. And then it happened.
Izuku saw it in slow motion. Someone in the MacLaren turned into the Aston Martin too harshly on the corner, too eager to get around the other and their tires locked together, then the MacLaren climbed as the tires caught and he was in the air. For two seconds, but it was enough for him to spin away off track. Izuku's steering wheel display blinked yellow in warning, yellow flag, yellow flag . The team radioed in to say as much and Izuku, along with everyone else, slowed.
"It does not look like a red flag incident, we stay on track.” Hatsume said into his ear. Izuku gritted his teeth. Anyone else with damage or old tires were all free to go into the pitlane and get newer tires if they wanted to. Fresh sets guaranteed a longer sprint to the end, they have fifty laps to go. They could stay out on the hard compound, but Izuku could feel it already, this was a two stop race despite the data saying otherwise. Everyone would be limping at the end, their tires at the end of their lives and struggling to keep pace.
He could still win this.
Cars pooled in at the pit lane, most but not Izuku. He now sat at position eight. Katsuki remained on track and Izuku felt excitement pulse through him. His team must have made a mistake. Keeping him out on lap twenty one now wouldn't give him a chance to take advantage of the situation. No, staying out meant he had to pit two more times unless they gave him hard compound tires which should carry him mostly to the end. Were they intending on making this a one stop race?
It didn't matter. The safety car was ending and once the yellow stopped blinking in warning on his steering wheel and Katsuki took off at full speed, Izuku fixed his sights on the bright blue car in front of him, and when he had the chance, he deployed his battery and opened his DRS, he flew past him easily, up into seventh.
It could become monotonous, racing around and around. His body would move on its own, knowing corners before he registered it sometimes, and he was grateful for how well his brain worked, memorising everything there was to know about every track. It was his job after all. But he couldn't let himself lull into that today. He wasn't leading. He needed to remember to fight.
Lap thirty four, and he was behind his own teammate, Iida in forth place.
"Iida's slower than me." Izuku said into the radio communications as the rear of his teammate's car became bigger. "Tell him to let me pass on the straight, I need a tow to get up to Todoroki quicker."
"Box, box." Came the response. Izuku's veins turned cold. His team wanted to undercut Katsuki; beat him to the pit stop and hopefully put Izuku closer to the front, best case in front of Katsuki, who was due to come in any time now. His soft tires are surely at the end of their life.
The stop was 2.3 seconds, and he was off. He returned to the track in twelfth place, but didn't fuss. He started the chain reaction. Everyone began to pit, and Katsuki, Ferrari, finally caved in and had the race leader pit. Izuku was behind Iida and Todoroki again. And they were both due to pit, then just like that, Izuku led the race. He simply needed to take care of these tires and he should make it to the end, hopefully still in the lead.
Lap sixty two, the hard tires he tried to nurse were beginning to wear. Katsuki was behind him, pushing his car beyond its limit which forced Izuku to do the same. Izuku needed to hold on, but he could see the man in the rear view now, his helmet a bright orange beacon in his cockpit. He didn't open the gap between them enough, and Katsuki was a determined asshole that wouldn't make this easy.
Four laps to go, and Izuku could practically feel him breathing down his neck. He was going to lose this. Katsuki had slightly fresher tires, and a faster car this season. A cold shock trickled down his neck as he rounded onto the straight. two laps to go, and Katsuki was wheel to wheel. The snout of his red Ferrari impeded into his peripherals.
This was it.
He lunged, going late on the brakes into the corner and stayed ahead. Katsuki was being aggressive, too close, skirting the edges of the rules, giving Izuku just enough room, but only just.
The tires were too hot, he didn't have the room. He was beginning to skate, losing traction on old tires, losing his concentration from unfamiliar panic. He swallowed it. Even if he came second, they had one more shot. The season finale.
And as his car gave one last slide, unreliable to the last corner, Izuku pretended he let Katsuki past him and promised himself. The next race, his final chance, he would take the championship for the second time, denying Katsuki his first title.
The chequered flag waved, and Izuku was second.
Twenty four points separated them. Which meant the next race, Katsuki needed to finish in 10th or worse, and Izuku needed to be first, to win the championship.
Sitting there, all this information coursing through him, Izuku felt his brain throb from overthinking. He removed the steering wheel and cockpit cover, then climbed out, waving unconsciously to the excited sea of people as he stood atop his car, stretching his legs for the first time in an hour and a half. Blood flowed through him at a sluggish pace, his body dehydrated despite emptying his water bottle.
He might have pushed too hard today. He removed his helmet, his body doing the motions automatically; weighed, interview, congratulations, cool down room. They could lose up to eight pounds a race, a race was that taxing, and Izuku was always mindful of it.
He wanted to see Uraraka, she would make his second place feel like a win and he needed that. But she was in Japan, home and watching him from halfway around the world.
In the quiet of the cool down room, he let the shadow of the roar of everything simmer into nothing. He looked at the replays on the screens before him without seeing them really. He let cool breeze hit his sweat drenched body as his suit hung loose around his waist. A hand touched his shoulder and he looked up to see Iida. He placed third and Izuku patted his hand, smiled, and resumed his mindless thoughts.
He was trying especially hard not to think about what needed to be done for the next race.
"Hey, man." Izuku stiffened at the sound of his voice and his ears tweaked at the sound of slapping palms; a handshake. "Good race."
"Congrats." Iida said to Katsuki. Izuku didn't look at him. He couldn't look at him.
"Izuku." Katsuki's solid body was a shadow now, his red suit hanging from his hips, almost brushing Izuku's knee. The audacity - "That was a good battle." He said it quietly and it forced Izuku to look up at him. Their eyes met, then neither looked away. His heart was thundering in his throat.
Izuku glared. It had been years of this. They grew up together, and Izuku loved him then. They were family. They were rivals on the same field, carting, racing, being raised together in the sport. He looked away, afraid Katsuki could see it all on his face, because Izuku was bitter. And he would never forgive him.
"Yea, good job." He muttered. Katsuki lingered a second longer, Izuku's body nowhere near cooled off now that adrenaline spiked through him again, and then, Katsuki was gone.
Izuku placed the empty water bottle beside his helmet and redressed into the suffocating flame retardant racing suit. Sponsors and all, the drivers needed to look whole to collect their trophies.
And while the fans brought a smile to his face as he was presented with his second place trophy, it didn’t seep into his core. It didn’t lighten him. Then there was Katsuki. and suddenly, there was champagne spray. Iida came straight at him and it went into his eyes, his ears, drenched his curls. Izuku aimed his bottle right back at him.
All the while avoiding Katsuki and his engineer before he was allowed to disappear.