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Leaves skitter across Kojiro’s path in fiery hues of red and gold, like tiny creatures running for cover, as he skateboards down the road.
He knows the route to Kaoru’s house like the back of his hand. Could probably skate there with his eyes closed. (He tried once on a bet, when Kaoru didn’t believe he could do it. He ended up about 2000 yen poorer and with two skinned knees.)
The streets of Okinawa are as familiar as the blood in his veins. Today, though, it’s as if he’s seeing everything for the first time—every crack in the pavement, all the trees and houses that line the street.
He etches each detail in his mind, like the ink forming the outline of the sun on his shoulder. (He got the tattoo a month ago, permanently capturing a piece of summer on his skin. Kaoru went with him and held his hand the whole time, his fingers pale and cool as they interlocked with Kojiro’s.)
Kojiro sent the text half an hour ago.
kojiro: i’m leaving for italy tomorrow
kaoru: I know.
kojiro: i was thinking.....do u want to skate together one more time?
He awaited Kaoru’s response for what felt like an eternity, until his phone finally buzzed.
kaoru: Yes. Meet me at my house.
Thinking of it now, Kojiro smiles. Kaoru always texts with proper punctuation and spelling. You sound like a grandpa, Kojiro has told him many times. It’s earned him more than one scathing look and the occasional punch in the arm. Kaoru might talk like an old person, but he sure doesn’t hit like one.
Kaoru’s house comes into view, a pale shade of yellow that blends with the bright gold foliage surrounding it. (Kojiro thinks of the first time he walked past this house when he was six. Kaoru was skateboarding down his driveway, only to fall to the pavement when his board flew out from underneath him. Kojiro ran to him, reaching out a hand, and Kaoru smacked it aside. “Leave me alone!” he said. Kojiro didn’t listen. He hasn’t been listening for twelve years.)
The door opens, and Kaoru appears on the front step.
It’s a familiar setup: Kojiro, waiting outside as Kaoru emerges with his skateboard tucked underneath his arm. It doesn’t matter the season, the weather, or the time of day. It’s always been this way.
At least, until recently. The past few months have been different, and Kojiro can’t pinpoint when things started changing. He could say it was when Kaoru started university this past spring, or when Kojiro found out he’d be leaving for Italy in the fall. Maybe it was when Adam left for America, right before they graduated high school. Or maybe it was before that; maybe it was when Adam started chasing his skating opponents off of cliffsides. Maybe it was when they met Adam in the first place.
In any case, it’s been a while since Kojiro and Kaoru went skating like this, just the two of them. It’s also been a while since Kojiro has seen his best friend smiling so brightly.
Kaoru runs down the driveway where they first met, fallen leaves stirring around his feet. The afternoon light glints off his lip ring. “I have something to show you,” he says.
Kojiro raises an eyebrow, a snarky comeback hovering on his tongue. Nice to see you, too. The words die in his throat as Kaoru takes his skateboard out from underneath his arm and holds it up. The black surface of the board lights up with glowing pink lines, and it makes a chiming noise.
“Whoa. Is that the board you’ve been working on at school?”
Kaoru nods. He’s been texting Kojiro pictures of it for months—a project he started at university, where he’s combining his passions of technology and skateboarding by creating an AI-programmed board.
Without thinking, Kojiro reaches out a hand to touch it, but Kaoru frowns and hugs the board to his chest. “No touching. She’s not any old skateboard, you know. She’s a highly intelligent machine.”
“She?”
“Yes. Her name is Carla.”
“Carla? Did you name her after some girl you like or something?”
“Very funny,” Kaoru deadpans. He places the skateboard on the ground. “Now, are we just going to stand here talking all day, or are we going to skate?”
The word skate sparks an excited buzz in Kojiro’s bones, especially when it entails skating alongside his best friend. He holds out his fist, and Kaoru lifts his own hand to bump their knuckles together.
“Race you to the usual place?” Kojiro says.
“As long as you’re prepared to lose.”
“Oh, like that’s gonna—hey!”
Kaoru has already taken off, his vibrant hair flowing out behind him and his sharp laugh echoing down the street. Kojiro would be annoyed at him for taking a head start, but... he hasn’t heard Kaoru laugh like that in a while. Smiling to himself, Kojiro pushes off the ground with his foot and propels his skateboard forward.
There’s a certain and unparalleled thrill to skating with Kaoru—something Kojiro doesn’t feel when he’s racing against anyone else, even the most talented of skaters.
He’s missed it. Kaoru has been so preoccupied with university, and Kojiro has been busy making his own preparations to leave for Italy that they haven’t had the time. That, and... they haven’t skated together since Adam left.
Something cold and bitter stirs in Kojiro’s stomach at the thought. But the feeling dissipates as he spares a glance to his left, seeing Kaoru skating alongside him. A faint smirk lingers on his face, his long hair blowing in the wind and his eyes gleaming with intense focus. As always, Kaoru skates with almost inhuman precision, poised on his board in a slight crouch as he shoots forward like an arrow.
Kojiro doesn’t understand how Kaoru’s new board works, but it seems to be giving him an advantage. Every once in a while, it will beep and say something in a robotic voice, and Kaoru will effortlessly turn a corner or veer around a crack in the pavement. It’s fascinating to watch, and so different from the way Kojiro skates. Truthfully, he could learn a thing or two from it. Not that he’d admit it out loud.
Even in the midst of their race, Kojiro takes in the familiar scenery. They roll past the empty skate park that they frequented as kids, the ramps casting long shadows over the ground. (Kojiro once fell and fractured his elbow there when he was twelve years old. Kaoru walked him home, holding both their skateboards under one arm, squeezing Kojiro’s hand and murmuring words of comfort.) Their reflections flit across passing storefronts, backlit by the setting sun. There’s an abandoned corner store at the end of the street—the one Kojiro has fantasized about fixing up into a restaurant someday. (He told Kaoru about this dream a year ago, expecting him to laugh. Kaoru didn’t laugh. “I think you should do it.” Kojiro started looking up culinary schools that evening.)
As they near their destination, there are more clusters of trees on either side of the narrow street. Golden leaves fall from the branches, spinning and dancing in the air like enormous sparks.
Kaoru gets to the bridge about half a second before Kojiro, skating in a wide arc before coming effortlessly to a stop. He tosses his head with a smirk, causing his bangs to fall over one of his eyes.
“That wasn’t fair.” Kojiro presses one foot on the back of his skateboard to bring it to a halt. “You got a head start.”
“I doubt it matters,” Kaoru says airily. He bends down to sweep his skateboard off the ground, examining the glowing pink numbers that flicker across its surface. “I’m just the better skater.”
“Well, that’s not it.” Kojiro crosses his arms, glaring at Kaoru’s skateboard. “What do all those numbers mean, anyway?”
He’s not sure why he asks. Kaoru is probably going to answer with something condescending—how Kojiro’s ape brain is too simple to understand, or something like that.
Instead, Kaoru seems eager to answer. “Well, this is sort of a prototype for now. I’m still fine-tuning the details, but...”
He launches into an explanation that Kojiro only understands half of. From what he gathers, Carla has an integrated AI that generates calculations as Kaoru is skating, gathering data on his skating techniques, warning him of obstacles, suggesting how to angle his board to make perfect turns.
Kojiro watches him the whole time, observing the way Kaoru’s expression brightens, how the light glints off his lip ring as he speaks.
“I’m hoping that one day I can add more features,” Kaoru says, tucking Carla under his arm. “A few basic functions—like playing music or storing videos, things like that. And I’m trying to program her to respond to voice commands—” He stops, scowling. “What’s so funny?”
Kojiro didn’t realize until now that he’s smiling. “Nothing.”
In a way, it’s true. He’s not certain what brought the grin to his face. Maybe it’s just that he likes the way Kaoru seems so happy when he talks about this complicated technology stuff. Kojiro likes to see Kaoru happy.
He almost says so out loud. Instead he says, “You’re a huge nerd, you know that?”
Kaoru’s eyes widen, then narrow venomously. “You’re just too much of an imbecile to understand,” he mutters, looking off to the side.
“First of all, ‘imbecile’? Are you ninety years old? Secondly... c’mon, I was just kidding.” He puts a hand on Kaoru’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I may have no idea how your fancy new board works, but I think it’s really cool.”
Kaoru tenses. He turns his head to look at Kojiro, an inscrutable expression crossing his face, before he lets out a light huff. “Well... thank you. Glad you think so.”
Kojiro lets his hand drop away from Kaoru’s shoulder. After a brief pause, he picks up his skateboard and leans it against the nearby wall (the wall with a faded black line etched into its surface like a scar, where Kojiro pulled off his first wallride).
He walks over to the nearby railing, looking out at the glimmering water. A moment later, he hears the shuffling noise of Kaoru’s footsteps, before he appears at Kojiro’s side.
With anyone else, the silence might seem awkward. Kojiro usually feels weird if he’s just standing there with someone and not talking. But with Kaoru, it’s always been different, like there’s a silent understanding between them. It’s... peaceful. Comforting, even.
“What are you thinking about?” Kaoru asks.
Kojiro could answer in about a hundred ways. He’s thinking about how he’s terrified to leave for another country tomorrow. He’s thinking about how the leaves will shift from gold to brown to gray. He’s thinking about all the times he and Kaoru have met underneath this bridge—more times than he can count—the sound of their laughter and clatter of their skateboard wheels echoing off the walls.
“Do you remember when it was just the two of us?” Kojiro says. “Skating together, I mean. Before ‘S’? Before—” He doesn’t complete the sentence, but the implication hangs over them like a dark cloud. Before Adam.
Kaoru crosses his arms and leans his elbows against the railing, a few long strands of his hair blowing in the breeze. “Of course I remember. What about it?”
“I don’t know,” Kojiro says. “I guess I just miss those days.”
Kaoru stares at him with a slight furrow in his brow. “You’re not getting mushy on me, are you?”
“I’m leaving tomorrow. I think I’m allowed to be a little mushy.”
“I suppose.”
Kojiro laughs and nudges his shoulder against Kaoru’s. “Well... we can still video chat and stuff while I’m away, right? I mean, it’s like a six-hour time difference, but—”
“Seven,” Kaoru is quick to correct him, then coughs into his fist. “But... I’m always up in the middle of the night, anyway. So, yes, I’d like that. Calling each other, I mean.”
Warmth blossoms in Kojiro’s chest. “Yeah?” he says. “I’d like that, too.”
Kaoru smiles. His golden eyes reflect the light, absent of their usual intensity. They’re the same shade as the setting sun, as the changing leaves. Kojiro thinks it might be his favorite color.
“I’m gonna miss you, Kaoru.”
The words come out before Kojiro can stop them—and also more softly than he meant them to.
Kaoru’s eyes widen. He scoffs, looking sharply away as his face reddens.
“What? I’m not allowed to say I’ll miss my best friend?” Kojiro says with a smirk.
“I didn’t say that.” Kaoru glances at Kojiro, then takes a tiny step closer so their shoulders press together. “I’ll miss you too, you big idiot.” It sounds uncharacteristically soft, despite the insult.
Kojiro’s eyes sting, and he looks out towards the horizon as he slings an arm around Kaoru. He knows he should be getting home soon. But he wants to stay like this for a little longer, side-by-side with his best friend, watching the last Okinawa sunset that he’ll see for a long time.
Another gust of wind stirs the leaves on the pavement, sending them spiraling over the railing and drifting out over the water in swirling patterns.
Kojiro watches them go, letting out the breath he’s been holding in his lungs. He hates how fleeting this colorful time of year is. He wishes he could capture the beautiful splashes of gold and hold onto them forever.
They always come back, though. He tries to cling to that thought, with the warmth of the sun on his skin and the fluttering of the breeze in his hair, and the comforting weight of Kaoru’s shoulder pressed into his side.
Even if they’re gone for a long time, the autumn colors will return.
He and Kaoru will, too.