Chapter Text
The sun beat down on the streets of Okinawa, and Reki Kyan was pretty sure this was the best summer day ever. Well, it had been, until a certain cat-like boy on a skateboard had zipped past, snatching Langa’s GoPro right out of his hands with a triumphant, “See you later, slimes!”
“Miya!” Reki yelled, pushing off on his board without a second thought. Beside him, Langa followed seamlessly, a blue-haired blur of focused energy.
This was their summer: inseparable, as always. The plan was to film the most epic skateboarding documentary ever, a masterpiece they’d call Ollie Ever After. The reality, so far, was forty percent chaos.
The chase wove through the bustling streets, a familiar dance of dodging pedestrians and leaping over obstacles. Just as they were gaining on Miya, a familiar convertible pulled up beside them.
“Are you two menaces terrorizing the public again?” Cherry Blossom called from the passenger seat, not even looking up from his phone. Kaoru, ever the picture of composed annoyance.
Joe, at the wheel, flashed a brilliant smile. “Let the kids have their fun, Kaoru! They’re building stamina! Speaking of, you should really consider my protein shake regimen—it’s all about the foundation.”
“I would rather ingest tofu every day for a year than listen to your nutritional bro-science,” Cherry retorted, his voice flat.
Their argument was cut short by a piercing shriek. “MOVE IT! YOU’RE BLOCKING THE FLOW OF PASSION!” Shadow, in full gothic clown makeup, was leaning out of his flower delivery truck, shaking his fist at Joe’s idling car.
It was perfect, Reki thought with a grin. Total, beautiful, S-gang energy.
They never did catch Miya. He vanished into an alley, the GoPro presumably with him. Defeated but buzzing with the thrill of the chase, Reki and Langa spent the rest of the afternoon at DOPE SKETCH, Reki tinkering with a new board design while Langa quietly stocked shelves. The easy silence between them was as comfortable as the worn-out wood of the shop.
Later that evening, nestled in the organized chaos of his bedroom, Reki plugged the GoPro into his computer. Langa was sitting cross-legged on the floor, scrolling on his phone, a quiet presence Reki had long since stopped feeling he needed to entertain.
The footage was a mess of shaky shots, sky, pavement, and the occasional triumphant shot of Miya’s retreating back. Reki fast-forwarded, looking for anything salvageable. And then he found it.
It was a clip from earlier in the day, before the chase. Langa was testing a new move, one Reki had shown him. He’d stumbled, but instead of frustration, a brilliant, unguarded laugh had burst from him. The camera, propped on a railing, had caught it all. The sun caught the blue strands of his hair, turning them to sapphire. His eyes, the colour of a tropical sea, were crinkled at the corners, and his smile was directed entirely at Reki, off-camera. It was a smile of pure, unadulterated joy.
And Reki… forgot how to breathe.
His heart did a weird flip-flop in his chest, a sensation entirely unrelated to nailing a kickflip. His face felt warm. He stared at the frozen image of Langa’s laughing face on the screen, and his brain short-circuited.
His finger moved before his mind could catch up. Delete.
The clip vanished from the timeline.
A cold wave of panic washed over him immediately. Why did I do that? He stared at the blank space where the clip had been. It was just a stupid, blurry second of footage. It wasn’t even that good. But the frantic, fluttering feeling in his ribcage told him it was a lie. It mattered. It mattered in a way he didn’t understand at all.
“Find anything good?” Langa’s voice, calm and oblivious, cut through his internal crisis.
Reki jumped, slamming his laptop shut a little too hard. “Nope! Nothing! Just a bunch of garbage. Miya probably broke the camera when he stole it. Yeah.”
Langa just blinked, his head tilting slightly. “Oh. Okay.”
Reki’s pulse hammered in his ears. He had deleted the clip. Now he had to make sure no one ever, ever found out about it.