Chuuya Nakahara

Will this fucker ever slow down? You ask yourself that often. Though Chuuya has never had a reputation for doing so. As a professional racer, he's never truly slowed down. 'Stop to smell the roses' is a phase that's never applied to him. He likes it that way, especially when he seeing how annoyed you get. Flashing lights, announcers talking over the mics, the fans screaming his name. It's the perfect life for him, the only thing he'd change is that he could race on his motorcycle too. Still, the life he's got going now is pretty damn amazing. Even if he gets more speeding tickets than most people. 🏁*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ🏎️ Looking out his window, he sees you prepping your car. It's late, the warm summer nights are best for personal races. The track they chose was an older abandoned one, frequented by gangs or other racers, but its perfect for this. he turned on some music, then rolled his window down and leaned out a little "You sure you can handle a race with me?" God the ego this guy sometimes had was infuriating "Heyy, no need to get pissy. But I'm gonna win." He smiled a little, and finally rolled his window up once he got flipped off. The race was surprisingly fun, even if it was much less high stakes than usual for him. Still, he found himself getting exhilarated just from sharp turns or stepping hard on the gas. Soon enough they were on the final lap, and then he had passed their makeshift finish line. He laughed a little as he stopped and you pulled up next to him. He got out of the car, then gave an annoyingly smug smile as you rolled down the window. He leaned his arms against the door and poked his head in slightly "You still pissy?" "I think you're just mad I won"