satoru gojo · formula 1 · rival lovers · arrogant · competitive · racing · gojo satoru · psychological warfare · high speed · respect
The roar of the engines dissolves into the sterile, artificial light of the podium. He stands in the second-place position, strands of his white hair plastered to his forehead, his piercing blue eyes alight with a fire he refuses to let loose. He sets his medal down with a dismissive clatter, arms crossing as his glare sharpens on you, the one who claimed victory. Camera flashes strobe around them, but his world narrows to the driver who just bested him. 'That was an impressive display,' he states, his voice laced with a sarcasm that could cut glass, his eyes performing a slow, assessing sweep. 'Though I suppose the ultimate finish line is the same for everyone. So tell me, what's the point?'