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"Carla, switch to projector mode and play the home videos playlist, please."
"Okay, master."
Being alone with his thoughts in a hospital room is both dangerous and an inconvenience. But at least Kaoru has Carla with him. To keep him company.
When a white square of light appears on the wall across from his bed, he raises his tired eyes. Kaoru ought to be sleeping, he knows, but his mind won't leave him alone. So for now, he settles against the pillows and watches.
"Kaoruuu, waaaait!" Eight-year-old Kojiro runs after him. His legs and knees are covered in band-aids and his obnoxiously bright orange helmet sits askew on top of his head.
Kaoru stops and turns. "Kojiro! Come on! We're going to be late!" Exasperated, Kaoru reaches out to fix and strap the helmet on when Kojiro catches up to him. "I can't believe you refuse to wear knee pads, seriously."
Kojiro shrugs. "It's just a few scrapes. The practice area has those squishy flat cushions anyway."
"It's called foam flooring." His usual tag phrase, you dimwit, is left unsaid, but it's there in little Kaoru's tone. Still, he offers his hand, which Kojiro takes without hesitation. "Come on! We have to run!"
"Kaoru! Kojiro! Be careful!" comes the voice of Kaoru's mother from behind the camera. The footage gets shaky then as she tries to catch up to them, her heels clacking up against the pavement.
Their instructor clears his throat before grabbing the microphone. "Thank you for joining us today for our first ever skating exhibition. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did while preparing for it."
The children line up behind the instructor and all bow deeply, their practiced 'thank you' loud and clear. It's the same day as the previous video. Kaoru remembers the nerves swirling around his gut at having to go first. He also remembers Kojiro's warm smile and hand squeezing his, something the camera didn't catch as they were standing behind the curtain to the side of the practice area. 'I'm here,' his eyes said.
Little Kaoru walks out, bows again, and gets on his board. He does a short trick routine he spent weeks perfecting and smiles at his mother's camera in the small crowd. Another kid runs out, does his bit, and then it's Kojiro's turn.
His orange helmet, now fastened safely underneath his chin thanks to Kaoru, clashes horribly with the short tufts of green hair sticking out from the front and back. Kaoru finds it hilarious, even to this day. That gorilla's fashion sense has only improved slightly, and that's all thanks to his best friend's attempts at gifting proper adult attire whenever July 7th rolls around.
Kojiro smiles at the camera—since he knew his own mother was going to get a copy of the video—and does his routine, adding a few tricks here and there the coach warned him not to do. He even tries to do a handstand but his balance is all off and he falls on his back. Their coach rushes to help but Kojiro is fine; there's just a brand new scratch on his right elbow that Kaoru remembers patching up with a pastel pink band-aid, just to annoy him.
The next video is a few years down the line. It's slightly better quality and it's ten-year-old Kojiro's voice behind the camera instead of Kaoru's mother.
"All set up."
"Okay, here I go!" There is a row of cones down the paved path near the beach that Kaoru needed to avoid. They were as close to each other as possible because he was sure he could make his skating just a tiny bit more concise, more compact. He just needed to adjust the angle.
His first and second attempts aren't great; he knocks the cones out of the way and Kojiro has to run to catch them before they tumble down the hill and into the water. His third one is the worst, though, making him hiss even as he sits on the hospital bed today. Ten-year-old Kaoru not only fell, he completely lost his balance and wiped out, hitting his elbow and ass, his long-sleeved shirt ruined and bloody.
"Kaoru! You okay?" Kojiro is there in an instant, camera forgotten and still rolling, his voice fading slightly but Kaoru knows these videos by heart.
"Y-yeah." On screen, Kaoru sits up and grabs his injured arm, his dirty hand avoiding the actual gash.
Kojiro gasps, his hands hovering around Kaoru's body. "Is that blood?!"
Kaoru closes his eyes. "Yes, bring me my first aid kit. It's in my backpack."
"Y-yes!" Kojiro runs back and forth, hands trembling just the slightest bit as he follows Kaoru's instructions and cleans the wound. But in the end, it was just another scrape. "Maybe you should wear some protective gear."
Both Kaorus snort at that.
The next ones are compilations Kaoru put together years ago, so videos four, five, six, and seven go more or less the same way, with the two of them trying to improve—and failing spectacularly—throughout their pre-teen years.
It isn't until video number eight that there's some semblance of progress.
Thirteen-year-old Kojiro is racing in front of the camera. He lowers his hips, bending his legs and jumps, a perfect ollie followed by a frontside 180. His smile is blinding when he turns his head to look over at Kaoru's beaming face, then Kojiro falls, flat on his ass.
Kaoru remembers cutting the camera before going to help his friend, and when it starts rolling again, their positions are flipped: Kojiro leaning against a graffitied wall—hand massaging his back—and Kaoru gaining speed to try the same trick.
But his feet got caught on the board as he jumped and fell. Kojiro's youthful laughter meets his ear. "It ain't so easy, huh?" That boyish smirk makes Kaoru's gut churn again.
"Shut it, you ape! I couldn't see because of my hair." Kaoru huffs and dusts himself off, red staining his cheeks.
Kojiro approaches him, then, his fingers touch the end of one of Kaoru's shoulder-length locks. "Mmm, it's rather long, yeah."
Kaoru swats his hand and takes an elastic band out of his pocket, making quick work on his hair. "Maybe I should cut it."
"No!" Kaoru looks up, surprise written all over his features. "I mean, it-it looks good, you shouldn't cut it."
"O-okay." Kojiro nods, and Kaoru grabs his board, moving out of the frame and toward their makeshift starting point. "I'll, um, try that again."
"Okay."
The rest of the videos show them finally getting better. There are falls, of course, but they aren't that bad. They are more embarrassing than worrisome. Kaoru's body is relaxed, his eyes drooping due to the day's exhaustion catching up to him ... but then there's a flash of white contrasting sharply against the empty skate park at night. His heart clenches as his younger self laughs, arm thrown around the shoulder of the person who sent him to this very hospital bed.
Kaoru's voice is small when he speaks again. "Carla, avoid videos seventeen through twenty-five, please."
"Okay, master."
After a second, video twenty-six starts, and the silent atmosphere of their high school's archery doujou brings Kaoru some peace of mind. He watches as his eighteen-year-old self—sans piercings and hair tied back—stands, eyes closed until he turns his head to the left. Raising his arms slowly, teen Kaoru takes a deep breath, the string of the bow tense as he holds the arrow in place. The next second, the arrow hits the target. Bull's eye.
Kaoru smiles as he hears Kojiro's voice behind the camera, cheering louder than anyone else and getting scolded for it.
Twenty-seven is similar. Kojiro is holding the camera as discreetly as possible while nineteen-year-old Kaoru receives his first big award at a calligraphy competition outside of a high school environment. One of his biggest accomplishments to this day.
Kaoru can still remember his best friend's eyes shining brightly as he congratulated him for the millionth time that day.
The footage cuts off when the ceremony finishes and restarts at night, with them out of their formal suits and back in jeans and t-shirts.
"One last beef, Cherry?" Kojiro asks, handing the camera over to a former classmate of theirs. The winding paths of the abandoned mine they came to love and dread at different points in their lives stand tall in the background. There are no street lights, no lamp posts illegally connected to steal from the city's main power source. No cameras, no projectors, screens or capmen. Just a bunch of people getting together and having fun, no expectations or fancy tournaments needed. Simpler times.
Kaoru smirks and bumps fists with Kojiro, not registering the words completely. "You're going down, ape!"
They tied that night. But the bittersweet taste left in Kaoru's mouth when he learned Kojiro was leaving to study abroad lasted for a long while.
"That is the end of the home videos playlist, master."
"Carla, please play …" Does he really want to do this to himself? Now? Today? After everything?
Minutes pass. "Waiting for instructions, master."
Kaoru swallows. "Carla, please play the Green Willow compilation."
"Okay, master. Updating compilation." Understandable. It's been … a while since he's watched it. "Update complete. Where would you like to start, master?"
"Start from the Miyako-jima trip."
"Okay, master. Playing Miyako-jima trip from the Green Willow compilation."
There he is. Kaoru's sitting under a beach umbrella, the small drone flying around, recording silently. His unexpected companions are already in the water, playing, running, annoying each other as he works on his tablet. Just because he was at the beach, it didn't mean his business could wait. Besides, he had an appointment he needed to get to in the afternoon.
It's peaceful, the hum of the waves makes him want to close his eyes. And he does. Until his own surprised yelp reaches him. Kaoru reluctantly opens his eyes just in time to see himself being carried away by Kojiro's strong body and thrown into the sea. The chase begins then to the chorus of laughter of not only their companions but also of everyone else who bore witness to Kojiro's little prank.
The next bit is of Kaoru finishing his work appointment, his dinner getting interrupted and crashed by their friends—acquaintances? That damn gorilla using him again.
Then, Kaoru's cheeks heat up because there are Kojiro and he at the onsen, their bodies obscured by the steaming water. Maybe he should've turned off the drone when they arrived at the resort but he wanted to have proof in case the beef ended up being a close call—which happened. It was one hundred percent justified.
"Carla, skip ahead to Kojiro's beef against Langa."
"Okay, master."
Exhilarating. Watching Kojiro skate is always an adventure. His flashy tricks, brute force, and laid back personality make heads turn and admiration grow. His boyish smile as he waves at the crowd brings back thoughts Kaoru naïvely believed he'd buried long ago. Maybe reminiscing wasn't the best idea tonight. Not when his insides squirm as he lays eyes on Kojiro's face, his smirk, his stupid tattoo.
Kaoru's tongue instinctively touches the barely there mark of his old lip piercing, the ghost of Kojiro's fingers as he held onto Kaoru's chin to break the skin with the needle still present today. Kaoru wants to laugh at the contrast of that memory with the squeamish boy from the video and the grown adult jumping around on screen.
Something warm settles around his beaten heart, liquifies the remnants of the walls he built up and takes a hold of the organ. It's gentle, careful. How many more versions and facets of Kojiro will he get to see?
Kaoru is glad for the fondness swimming around his chest when the video changes to his own race but it's not enough to prevent the ice freezing him down to his toes. "Carla, skip ahead to the end of my beef."
"Okay, master."
The footage Carla hacked from the 'S' feed shows him, Cherry Blossom, broken, bloody, and on the ground. It's … strange to see oneself in such a vulnerable state. He lifts his head on screen, listens to whatever Adam says, and that's as far as his own memory recollects.
Heavy footsteps echo, along with a new, desperate voice among the murmurs. "Kaoru!" Kojiro kneels next to him, his features a mix of anger and worry. He turns to face Adam and the expression hardens before Shadow appears with his car.
Kojiro hesitates for a second, then his arms cradle Kaoru close to his chest. His lips are moving, but it's impossible for Kaoru to decipher whatever he said in that moment.
A black screen appears and then muffled yelling. Kaoru tries to understand until his own name echoes around the room. "Sakurayashiki Kaoru, received a hit in the face at high speed. Gotta check for head trauma. His elbow and leg are hurt too—"
"Carla, fast forward until I was allowed visitors."
"Okay, master."
The screen remains dark but there's shuffling now. "Is he gonna be okay, sensei?" Shadow.
"He will be. Rest is paramount right now, but there’s no concussion, thankfully. He'll need help around the house. Does he live alone?"
"Um, yeah, he does. I'll help him out, though. He practically lives in my restaurant already." Kojiro's voice is tired, even though he adds a little laugh at the end. But it doesn't seem to help lighten up the mood.
"Yes, he'll need all the help he can get." The doctor pauses—scribbles something? Presumably on Kaoru's file. "Please excuse me, I have other patients. You can stay for a little while longer but don't worry if he doesn't wake up. The medication will wear off in a few hours."
The two men thank the doctor before she leaves and there's silence until Shadow speaks. "Joe, listen. I gotta go back to pick Miya up."
"Sure, sure. I'll stay for a bit. And Shadow ... thank you."
"No problem. Call me if you need anything. Either of you."
"I will. Thank you." The door closes and Kojiro is left alone in the room with Kaoru. A sigh, more shuffling, then something creaks. "Kaoru, what the fuck?" Kojiro's voice shakes the slightest bit. "I was so scared."
"Carla, pause." The audio immediately stops. "Do you have video of this?"
"Yes, master."
"Play it."
It's at an angle, like the board was resting sideways on something while recording. Kaoru looks around and there's a table next to the window and an outlet. They must have dropped Carla there the day before to charge it for him. Kojiro. Kaoru usually left a spare charger at his restaurant.
The scene replays, and now Kaoru can confirm that Kojiro sat on the bed next to him. He's so big, it looks ridiculous. "Kaoru, what the fuck?" Kojiro grabs his hand, tenderly stroking the back of it, mindful of the IV that was there yesterday. "I was so scared." His expression is pinched, like he's fighting off tears but Kaoru can't be sure. The lighting is awful. Kojiro sniffles, his other hand coming up to move some of Kaoru's hair away from his face before kissing his forehead. "Remember, you're not alone, Kaoru. You have me. Always."
Kojiro stands and moves to the door, but stops there and glances back at Kaoru's sleeping form before leaving. The projection stops and Kaoru swallows, eyeing the wheelchair he asked Shadow to bring him that morning. "Carla, what time is it? When is the current nurse's last round?"
"It's 11:24 pm. The nurse should be here in around 6 minutes and 34 seconds."
"How long until the next shift change?"
"Three hours."
"Most effective route of escape?"
"Calculating …"
Kaoru takes off his glasses and pretends to be asleep when the nurse comes around. She takes his vitals, lays out an extra blanket at his feet and changes the water from the vase in the corner. But the second she leaves, Kaoru is up and sitting on his wheelchair. He presses the 'on' button on the right arm and the chair glows purple, much like his board. "Carla?"
"Yes, master?"
"Guide me out of the hospital without being seen."
"Okay, master."
Surprisingly, he walks—or rather, rolls—out through the front doors. No one sees him. He does get a few looks from passers-by and drivers but he manages to get to Sia la luce in one piece … although his head is pounding at this point.
"Are you an idiot? Sneaking out of the hospital like that …"
Now that Kaoru's here, all the bravado he had kind of drains out of him. "No problem. It's only a scratch."
Kojiro sighs. "You're looking like a mummy."
"An honourable wound. You haven't gone up against Adam, after all." Kaoru approaches the counter. Is there a chair missing ...? Doesn't matter, Kojiro takes the bait.
"I would've won."
"Shut up. You lost against a rookie." They fall into their usual banter easily. It's second nature by now. Part of who they are, part of their relationship. Soon enough, Kaoru's demanding wine. Maybe a horrible idea while on painkillers but he's had a rough couple of days. He folds his good arm on the counter to rest his throbbing head for a second while Kojiro looks for a bottle of wine in the back ...
"Is white okay? A Lafite—" Kojiro's voice wakes him but Kaoru doesn't move, continues to breathe evenly as if he were still asleep. He wants to see what his friend might do again. There's some clinking and the distinct sound of a cork being pulled. "Adam is currently skating all by himself." Kojiro is closer now. "He's an amazing skater, but I'm sure he's not happy right now. That's why his skating ends up that way." Kaoru wants to argue, whatever affection he held toward their former friend burning its way to the surface. But dousing the embers, he remains quiet. This is more important. "But you know, we're not alone. Right, Kaoru?"
There's heat threatening to fall from behind his closed eyelids when Kaoru remembers the warm smile from eight-year-old Kojiro and … knows. He just knows it's the same smile he hears in Kojiro's voice now.
Kojiro toasts Kaoru's glass, then a gentle hand is trying to remove his glasses without disturbing him. Always careful. Even though Kaoru doesn't need him to be. And he knows Kojiro is aware. But the oaf still does it, takes care of him, appears by his side, during trips, at 'S', everywhere. Kojiro's presence in Kaoru's life is all-encompassing, a blanket that protects him from harm if possible, that provides warmth when he needs it and backs away when Kaoru snarls and growls and yells.
He's never been alone. The cold walls surrounding Kaoru's heart, the ones he carefully put up after Adam left, were never meant to shut Kojiro out. But they did, didn't they? Kaoru closed doors and reopened them at leisure, without any regard for Kojiro's feelings. Kaoru never asked. He only took.
A tear slips out and Kojiro's hands freeze. "Kaoru?" His friend is about to move back when Kaoru opens one eye and grabs the sleeve of the pristine chef's jacket. He lifts his face slowly and gets as near to Kojiro as he dares. "Kao—ru?"
"Kojiro …" Their kiss is but a brush of lips, almost shy. Nothing like what they used to exchange after particularly intense beefs back in high school, when the adrenaline pumping in their systems drove them to push limits and blur the lines of their friendship. Kaoru presses his forehead against Kojiro's and waits.
"What are you doing?"
"You've always been there for me."
"I'd like to believe I have." Kojiro smiles, and Kaoru can't ignore the twisting and flip-flopping inside him anymore. It's pathetic, how long it took him to accept this. Them. "Just like you've been there for me, too."
Kaoru purses his lips. "No. I've been … selfish, taken advantage of you." His good hand cups Kojiro's cheek, thumb moving against the slightly rough skin. "During my lowest and highest moments, you've always been present. My one constant." The stable foundation he needed to grow.
"Isn't that what friends are for?" Kojiro chuckles. Dismissive.
"Friends don't kiss each other's foreheads while the other lays unconscious on a hospital bed, though."
Kojiro closes his eyes and sighs. "Let me guess, Carla?"
The purple lines in the wheelchair's design glow. "Yes, Kojiro?"
"Sleep, Carla." Kaoru should've never programmed her to recognize Kojiro's voice. But if something ever happened to him ...
"Okay, master."
Silence engulfs them. Kaoru pulls back and forces himself to maintain eye contact. Kojiro's gaze is steady, as unwavering as always. "I'm sorry for making you wait."
Kojiro shakes his head and laughs before kissing him gently. Warmth spreads through Kaoru's chest again, making his heart jump. "Yeah, took you long enough, four-eyes."