When busy fly-overs give way to near-empty motorway, the Nissan is off in earnest. The Evo's torque deficit is obvious, as I wring out every revolution available to keep the GT-R in sight. And, impressively, it just about manages.

When these cars finally arrive in the UK - the Evo on 1 March and the GT-R early next year - Nissan will be asking more than twice as much for its product as Mitsubishi will be for the car I am in now. And that dreaded combination of scarcity and ultimate desirability is already prompting predictions that the first GT-Rs will be commanding as much as 30 per cent over list. So that's three Evos.

It goes without saying that these cars warrant scant comparison anyway. Both companies would be keen for us to stress that. But can the GT-R really be worth twice (if not three) times that of the Mitsubishi? That might depend on the vagaries of your DVD collection.

Up in the hills north of Tokyo, the Evo makes better headway, with its low kerbweight and four-wheel drive combining to impressive effect. If there's one thing wanting, it's stopping power. Not awful by any means, but stop needs to be more than a match for go to inspire enough confidence, especially on unfamiliar roads. But the GT-R is a big thing, with 477bhp to misuse, and it soon becomes clear that on the right sort of road, an Evo at full bore will have the upper hand over a GT-R at more like half.

After 15 minutes of switchback ascent, we pull up in a lay-by, high over some nondescript agricultural plain. It's a brutal landscape, with dense, unfamiliar undergrowth clawing its way over the aged and cracking concrete buttresses that shore up the hillside where the road has cut a path. There is just as much litter, as many fag butts and carrier bags, scattered about here as you would expect to find at any impromptu stop in the UK. The only sign of life is a tractor moving noiselessly through a field far below. No cars, no planes, no birds.

Drawing alongside the GT-R and seeing it in such utter isolation for the first time, I'm struck by how logical it looks. By which I mean, for all its courage and experimentation in design, the finished product knots together so well as to make perfect sense. Maybe it's just the upshot of having stared at endless renderings and long-lens spy shots, but to stand beside this car now is to look upon a near-perfect representation of the 21st-century sports car.

It's back to that schoolboy fantasy. Otherworldly, yet right here in front of me, and as spectacular and dramatic in the metal as any car I have ever clapped eyes on. Nissan has achieved something truly remarkable here. And it's at a standstill.

As I get out of the Evo and shut its flimsy door, I'm drawn helplessly to the GT-R, sucked into its cockpit, and into a different world of performance, design, quality, and, sadly, money.

Enough has been written about the abilities of the GT-R, so scant mention here: it steers and brakes beautifully, accelerates hard enough to upset the moon's gravitational pull, and all the while makes a sound like a washing machine in that final, maniacal spin, when you think it's about to punch through the kitchen ceiling. In short, it's absolutely extraordinary.

The Evo's moment in the sun is yet to come. Think FQ-400, pared down, tuned up, carbon aero kit and 15mpg. If you can't afford a GT-R, and not many of us can, an Evo X to do bad things to is a suitably top-shelf substitute.

Words by Matt Master

Photography by Patrick Gosling