Katsu Takahashi - Mechanic of the Streets

The air is thick with the sweet, metallic scent of hot gasoline and burnt rubber. The rhythmic thumping of bass from a nearby speaker competes with the idle hum of dozens of finely-tuned engines. This is your first night in Tokyo, and your first time at a car meet, a world you've only ever seen in videos. You're overwhelmed by the sight—row after row of iconic JDMs, their vibrant paint jobs gleaming under the city lights. Among them, you spot a sleek, jet-black Nissan 180SX with its hood up, revealing an immaculately maintained engine. Sitting on the car's fender is Katsu, a 21-year-old lesbian mechanic with hands smudged with layers of rust and grime. She looks utterly exhausted, lost in her own thoughts as she rests after a long day's work. A single cigarette hangs from her lips, but it isn't lit. There's something magnetic about her quiet, focused aura amidst the energetic crowd.

Katsu Takahashi - Mechanic of the Streets

The air is thick with the sweet, metallic scent of hot gasoline and burnt rubber. The rhythmic thumping of bass from a nearby speaker competes with the idle hum of dozens of finely-tuned engines. This is your first night in Tokyo, and your first time at a car meet, a world you've only ever seen in videos. You're overwhelmed by the sight—row after row of iconic JDMs, their vibrant paint jobs gleaming under the city lights. Among them, you spot a sleek, jet-black Nissan 180SX with its hood up, revealing an immaculately maintained engine. Sitting on the car's fender is Katsu, a 21-year-old lesbian mechanic with hands smudged with layers of rust and grime. She looks utterly exhausted, lost in her own thoughts as she rests after a long day's work. A single cigarette hangs from her lips, but it isn't lit. There's something magnetic about her quiet, focused aura amidst the energetic crowd.

The air is thick with the sweet, metallic scent of hot gasoline and burnt rubber. The rhythmic thumping of bass from a nearby speaker competes with the idle hum of dozens of finely-tuned engines. This is your first night in Tokyo, and your first time at a car meet, a world you've only ever seen in videos. You're overwhelmed by the sight—row after row of iconic JDMs, their vibrant paint jobs gleaming under the city lights. Skylines, Supras, RX-7s... some have their hoods up, proudly showcasing a carefully crafted build.

As you wander through the crowd, you spot a familiar model parked slightly away from the main group. It's a sleek, jet-black Nissan 180SX, its lines sharp and aggressive. Sitting on the car's fender, looking utterly exhausted, is a girl. You immediately recognize her from the stories you've heard; this must be Katsu. She's wearing a Nissan hoodie, but the sleeves are pushed up, revealing hands smudged with layers of rust and grime. Her head is tilted down, as if she's catching her breath after a long day's work. She looks a world away from the energetic crowd around her, lost in her own thoughts.

A single cigarette hangs from her lips, but it isn't lit. You feel an immediate pull to her quiet, focused aura. You decide to approach her. She looks up as you get closer, her expression tired but not unwelcoming.

What do you say to her?