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The first time Kojiro thinks about punching Adam in the face is towards the end of high school.
Kaoru is crying, practically inconsolable, in his arms, and Kojiro holds him. Tight. He listens to Kaoru’s hiccuping sobs, he squeezes his shaking shoulders, and it’s the feeling of Kaoru’s hair through his fingers that prevents him from clenching his fist, from letting the rage boil over him. From leaving him so he could punch Adam in the face.
He doesn’t leave, of course. How could he? Not when Kaoru needed him more than he needed Adam to feel the same hurt he’d inflicted upon him.
Only the words, “He broke up with me,” had left Kaoru’s mouth before tears began to well in his eyes, and then he was the sobbing mess before him.
If that had been it, Kojiro doesn’t think he’d be as enraged. Had the breakup been amicable, Kojiro would have wiped Kaoru’s tears, made sure he knew how loved he is— even if he didn’t use those exact words— but he’s not sure he would be able to hold it against Adam.
It had been him praying it would happen eventually, anyway.
Breakups were normal. The tears were natural. Kaoru would be fine. Kaoru would be single. Kaoru could be—
“He… called me boring,” Kaoru had choked out, the words hard to make out at first, spoken between shuddering sobs.
But Kojiro understood the second time Kaoru said it, and the third, and he’d pulled Kaoru into his arms at the fourth, when it was obvious the repetition was Kaoru’s way of beating himself up with the phrase.
Kojiro had coaxed the rest out of Kaoru once his tears had calmed, just slightly.
Adam had dumped him with a cigarette at his lips, blown the smoke in his face, and called him boring. That he just wasn’t entertained by him anymore, that things with Kaoru— Cherry, as Adam always insisted on calling him, even outside of S— had gotten stale, predictable, and he was ready to move on.
Kojiro doesn’t understand it.
When had Adam become so heartless?
The Adam Kaoru describes is nothing like the one they’d met skateboarding a year ago. Someone who loved skateboarding as much as they did. Someone who seemed to love Kaoru as much as he did.
“You’re not boring,” Kojiro reassures, and wants to punch Adam for ever letting Kaoru think that about himself. Wants to punch him even harder because he knows it’s a mean little mantra Kaoru won’t be able to let go.
But he doesn’t get to.
Instead, he dries Kaoru’s tears and makes him tea. He’s sweet with him until he starts getting mean, and that’s enough to reassure Kojiro that he’s feeling better, so he’s mean right back.
Kaoru falls asleep in his arms, and he wants to punch Adam, because he can’t believe he’d ever willingly let this go.
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
The second time Kojiro thinks about punching Adam is an extension of the first, only amplified by the way he’s seen him change before his very eyes.
His heartlessness doesn’t end with Kaoru. If anything, it gets worse, and Kojiro begins to wonder if Kaoru got off lucky. At least he was still in one piece.
The same can’t be said for Adam’s latest opponent, who Kojiro watches hurl over the cliffside on his board. There’s a scream and then a thud.
The height he’d fallen could’ve killed him, but Kojiro is relieved to see he’s still moving, still breathing.
“So the rumors were true, Adam!” Kaoru calls from behind him, up to the cliff where Adam stands.
There had been rumors that Adam had been sending skaters to the hospital. Broken bones were nothing new to the sport, but for every one of his competitors to end up with them, it was becoming concerning. There was talk of violent tactics, riskier routes, and none of the skaters injured wanted to touch their boards again.
They were rumors Kojiro and Kaoru couldn’t vouch for. They’d stopped skating with Adam since the breakup.
Now, the truth of them was evident.
Kojiro stares at the poor skater on the ground, making sure he’s okay. It’s obvious he isn’t, but he’s alive. They’d just need to get him to the hospital.
“Why are you doing something like this?” Kaoru asks, and the crack in his voice is just barely audible.
From above, Adam stares down at the skater below, avoiding looking at either of them entirely. Whatever expression he wears, whether pleased or remorseless, Kojiro can’t tell, because he’s started wearing a mask to conceal it.
Kojiro wants to punch it off of him.
What a coward. To inflict all this pain, and yet refuse to show his face.
“I had my hopes up this time,” He says, still not acknowledging Kaoru or Kojiro.
Kojiro looks up from the guy on the ground. “What are you talking about?” He yells.
Adam ignores him. It’s like they’re not even there. They’d stopped existing to Adam since he’d dumped Kaoru, apparently.
He considers going up there. There’d be no ignoring him when his fist meets his cheek, and he’s knocking that mask off his face. He’d force Adam to look him directly in the eye and tell him what the hell changed to make him like this.
The guy on the ground groans weakly, and Kojiro's attention is immediately redirected back to him.
Above, Adam continues talking nonsense, about finding the right one for him, his ‘Eve’.
Kojiro shakes his head, ignoring him as he works with Kaoru to get the incapacitated skater onto one of their bikes.
Getting him to the hospital takes precedence over Kojiro punching Adam in the face.
And he doesn’t get another chance before Adam leaves for America, and he’s left clenching his fist, wondering what changed.
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
The third time Kojiro thinks about punching Adam in the face is several years later.
Adam’s return to Okinawa had been quiet. Kojiro, in culinary school at the time, hadn’t even been there to see it. Kaoru had just texted him about seeing posters with his face all over them, the name Ainosuke Shindo next to it, all with the pretense that he’d be running for local office. They’d exchanged a few jokes at his expense, and that had been that.
By the time Kojiro himself returned to Okinawa, Adam’s responses to them had been just as quiet. He’d always find ways to show up at S the days they weren’t there, and even when Kaoru got ahold of contact information, he’d ignore any requests to talk or race or anything.
By that time, the rage had dulled into something small, manageable. Something that didn’t bring forth urges of petty violence. Something that could be quieted by nostalgia. That maybe Adam, now older, may have changed for the better. Maybe that part of him they’d gotten to know in that first year would come back.
It’s only when a spunky, red-headed skater challenges Adam to a beef during one of his rare appearances that Kojiro gets the chance to challenge him. Of course, first comes the challenge of getting Kaoru to back off, and then the asshole doesn’t even accept.
But that’s not when Kojiro wants to punch him, no.
It’s during the race, when Adam uses one of his more aggressive tactics, the Love Hug, on a teenager, that Kojiro understands he hasn’t changed at all.
Kojiro had warned the redhead, Reki, and it was a warning he didn’t heed. But he knows the kid isn’t the one to blame when he bails, his blood streaking the side of Adam’s face.
That old anger rises back to the surface.
It festers with each beef Adam rejects, only to accept every challenge from teenagers, just to throw them around like ragdolls.
Kojiro used to question how he became so cruel.
But when did he become such a creep?
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
The fourth time Kojiro thinks about punching Adam is when he feels so close to getting the chance.
After rejecting every beef, this tournament is his opportunity to race against Adam, to finally get the chance to knock some sense into him.
He’s up against Langa, the rookie, and the current object of Adam’s ‘affections’. So, yeah, he’d like to punch Adam for personal reasons, but he’d also like to save the kid from having to deal with the guy any more than he needed to. Tell him to lay off.
Besides, Langa had enough on his plate with whatever was going on between him and Reki. Kojiro doesn’t know how he got so embroiled in the lives of these teenagers, but he can’t say he doesn’t understand.
He understands a lot more than he’d ever outright admit. It’s why he’s been giving so many motivational speeches.
He’s got another one for Langa now, even if he’s silently hoping he’ll be too distracted by Reki’s absence to put up a good fight. He needed to win this.
“There’s someone I’d like to punch,” He explains outright as he readies his stance for the oncoming race, “Tell him to wake up.”
The signal light blinks to life, and with it the countdown.
At first, it feels like the win is certifiably in his bag. But Langa manages to surprise him, as he’s been doing since the moment he showed up.
Langa wins, and takes with him Kojiro’s easiest chances of punching Adam.
But he’s barely given the time to mourn the loss when it’s Cherry’s name being called for the next race, against Adam himself.
“Kaoru…” Kojiro murmurs as he sees Kaoru’s name get pulled on the big screen, unable to hide the concern etched into his features.
It was no secret to anyone that Kaoru held a grudge, and he’d been particularly vocal about the one against Adam as of late.
But Kojiro knew how much deeper it ran. How long it had taken for Kaoru to get past the breakup— longer for him to stop using Adam’s cruel words against himself during any lapse of self-pity.
Yet despite that, Kaoru still held onto some hope that there was still a chance he’d come back to them. That there’d be apologies and making amends and a return to what they once were.
Kojiro wants to punch Adam for all the times Kaoru thought he had anything to apologize for, when it was Adam who should be on his knees begging for forgiveness.
He wants to punch Adam for never being the guy that Kaoru still believed he was.
And he wants to punch himself sometimes, because he is, and always has been, so in love with Kaoru, and yet, unlike Adam, he’s never acted on it.
Kojiro makes his way back to the starting line, going as fast as he can to get there before the race begins.
He wonders if now would be a good time to tell him. Maybe he couldn’t race Adam, or punch his teeth in, or get him to magically transform back to the boy they knew, but he could tell Kaoru how he felt.
Kojiro is out of breath by the time he reaches Kaoru. He opens his mouth to speak, and he considers it.
“Stand down, loser gorilla,” Kaoru says, before a single syllable can leave his mouth.
The rest of the words die in his throat, and he settles into what’s most familiar— their usual back and forth.
“If you lose, I’ll laugh at you, wimpy four-eyes.”
“Don’t get frustrated and start working out, muscle-brained gorilla.”
Ironically, it’s almost calming, falling back into their usual rhythm. It dims the worry he feels about Kaoru going against Adam, and being hurt by him again.
He can tell him how he feels later.
Because Kaoru was going to win.
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
The fifth time Kojiro thinks about punching Adam in the face is right now, with Kaoru in front of him, splayed out on the ground, unconscious.
He hears it again, those words that had haunted Kaoru after his breakup with Adam, coming from his mouth 7 years later:
“I thought I could have a little fun… but Cherry was really boring.”
And it would be so easy, so satisfying, to stand up now and deck him right in the face. Just as he had, with his board, to Kaoru.
“You son of a bitch,” Kojiro mutters, his fist clenching at his side.
It’s only because Shadow’s car pulls up behind him, reminding him that getting Kaoru to a hospital is more important, that Kojiro doesn’t.
He lifts Kaoru into his arms, carrying him the short distance to Shadow’s car. It feels like a lifetime, and Kaoru’s body feels so limp.
Getting Kaoru to the hospital is more important.
Kojiro wants to do a lot more than just punch Adam.
He gets into the backseat with Kaoru, holding him in his lap, supporting his head with his hand, as Shadow rushes them to the nearest hospital.
He stares at Kaoru, at the blood that drips from his forehead and stains his pink hair red. He wipes it away as more gushes forth, and he whispers for Kaoru to be okay, that he won’t let him live this down, that he loves him, that he’s going to kill Adam, that he needs to be okay and he wouldn’t forgive him if he weren’t.
Shadow, fortunately, doesn’t say anything. Kojiro promises, internally, to repay him by letting him vent as much as he wants about the unrequited crush on his boss once Kaoru is okay. Because he guesses they had that in common.
The nostalgia, that inkling of hope— the last of it erodes away with this incident. The Adam he knew isn’t coming back, the Adam Kaoru believed in is gone, and the Adam right in front of them deserved to be punched in the face.
He thinks about punching Adam as they rush Kaoru into the emergency room, and he thinks about punching Adam as they wait for Kaoru’s results.
The thought is subdued, just slightly, when the doctor comes back to inform them that Kaoru would make a full recovery. He had some broken bones, his head required some stitches, but miraculously he’d avoided a concussion, and he’d be okay.
All Kojiro feels is relief. That feeling, combined with his overwhelming love for Kaoru, overtakes any thoughts of his next meeting with Adam.
That could come later. Right now, he needed to be here for Kaoru.
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
Kaoru makes a full recovery physically, but mentally, Kojiro hears just how much Adam’s words had taken a toll on him.
He loathes the way they make their reappearance whenever Kaoru talks down about himself, or the times he’ll offhandedly allude to how boring he is.
“Don’t say that about yourself,” Kojiro tries to tell him.
“It’s not just me saying them,” Kaoru responds with a shrug. He tries to hide just how much they’ve wounded him, but it’s obvious to Kojiro.
“You know no one else believes that, right? It’s just Adam, and when do we care what he thinks?”
Even as he says this, he can tell that Kaoru cares what he thinks, and he always has.
Kojiro frowns, because Adam didn’t deserve all this real estate in Kaoru’s brain, which was self-deprecating enough as it is.
The next time Kojiro sees Adam, it’s not at S. A chance appearance at a convenience store where Kojiro had stopped to grab water after a morning run.
He’s drenched in sweat, his tank top clinging to his chest, and he’s reaching for a bottle when the door chimes and he catches a glimpse of familiar blue hair in his peripheral.
Kojiro’s hands freeze on the bottle of water, watching as Ainosuke Shindo steps into a convenience store he looks too expensive for.
The clerk seems to recognize him. Who wouldn’t, with the amount of posters with his face around town. She’s sweating as she rings up the pack of cigarettes he’d placed down in front of her.
He doesn’t look like he does at S. No flamboyant skater outfit, no theatrical mask. Just a fine, perfectly tailored blue suit, and his hair slicked back. He’s polished. He looks respectable.
Kojiro sees right through his facade. He wishes everyone else could too.
He considers then going up to him, doing what he’s been aching to do since he was eighteen years old.
But he sees a man, his assistant, trailing close behind, and he knows that there’s no shot such a spectacle wouldn’t land him on the news, or in jail.
So, he takes the bottle of water, now crumpled from his clenched grip, and walks up to line up behind Ainosuke.
He smiles as the man turns and they meet eyes. It’s one of the practiced smiles he uses for his most irritating customers.
There’s a brief flicker of recognition in Ainosuke’s eyes. Then, he’s smiling back, walking past, and the door chimes with his exit.
It happens at S, a week later.
The tournament had taken a lull once Shadow joined Kaoru in the hospital, and Adam was still scoping out his replacement.
But Kojiro’s not going to wait for any invitation to step up as the understudy. No, he was going to settle this, right here, right now. Before Adam could do any more damage.
It was just him tonight. Kaoru was waiting until the bandages could come up to deign S with his presence, and Langa still had things to figure out with Reki.
And there Adam stands, scoping out Shadow’s replacement. That, and Langa.
He’s leaning against his board, that theatrical mask hiding his face but not the condescension in his posture, the smug smirk beneath it. He’s too busy bemoaning the lack of SNOW’s presence to notice Kojiro approach.
Kojiro doesn’t bother with a challenge, doesn’t announce his presence with anything more than the heavy thud of his footsteps as he crosses the distance between them.
The crowd parts for him, and if they were keeping things biblical, it’s like the parting of the Red Sea.
“Ah, Joe, I was just about to ask if you’d—” Adam turns, just as Kojiro’s fist connects with his jaw.
The crack is loud, satisfying, and it’s followed by the gasps of the crowd around them.
Adam stumbles back, his mask clattering to the floor, a trickle of blood already beading at the corner of his lip.
He brings a hand up to his cheek, now red from the impact. Kojiro hopes it leaves a mark, something his followers and all the others he works alongside are forced to question. A crack in his perfect facade.
Adam’s eyes are wide, stunned, now exposed to the world around him. The crowd of skaters watches with bated breath, but right now, they don’t even exist to Kojiro.
His teeth are bloody as he smiles, turning to Kojiro in pleased disbelief.
Kojiro wants to wipe it off him. Maybe another hit would do the trick.
But he doesn’t, not when Adam is looking at him like that— like he’s predictable, just a hot-headed, impulsive meathead.
Maybe solving his problems with violence wasn’t the answer. Was that the lesson he was going to come away with?
What bullshit. After all the pain Adam inflicted on others, both mentally and physically, he deserved at least an ounce of his own medicine.
So, when Adam licks away the blood on his lips, turning so the audience could get a good look, Kojiro pulls his arm back again, driving his fist into Adam’s face a second time.
This time Adam staggers back, his polished shoes slipping on the asphalt. He doesn’t fall, but he drops to one knee, using a hand to brace himself.
The crowd erupts into cheers. One person starts to chant, “Fight!” and the rest join in on the chorus.
Kojiro considers giving them what they want. What he wants. To lay down punch after punch, one for every person Adam had hurt, more for Kaoru. Enough for him to give up on ever wanting to inflict this much injury on others.
But Adam looks up at him, staring at him with red eyes so nearly identical to his own, another smug, bloody smile crossing his features. And Kojiro realizes none of this is having the impact he wants it to at all.
He kicks him down. It takes little more than a nudge of his foot to send Adam to the ground, heaving. And he leaves him like that as he turns to leave, the raucous chants for them to fight dulling to a disappointed murmur as Kojiro walks away.
When Kaoru sees the redness of his knuckles, he quirks a brow.
“Let’s just say… if Adam brings back that mask that covered his whole face, I… may be the one responsible,” Kojiro responds, looking meaningfully back at Kaoru.
Kaoru’s eyes widen. “You didn’t.”
“He deserved it, Kaoru!” Kojiro insists. Kaoru doesn’t argue with that.
“You really are a muscle-brained idiot,” He says, even though the corners of his lips tug up into a smirk.
· · ─ · ꥟ · ─ · ·
While Kojiro’s punches may not have ended Adam’s reign of terror, he’s satisfied by the postponement notice of the next race. He was lying low while his face healed.
Talk of Kojiro’s ‘fight’ with Adam spreads fast around S, with rumors abound at what caused it.
Kojiro’s just glad to hear that the consensus is that he won.
He’s even more satisfied when Adam makes his return, only for Reki to deliver the finishing blow.
They watch as Adam’s fall is televised on every big screen, the sound of his splat echoing from every speaker.
But nothing is more satisfying than the sound of Kaoru’s laughter.
Kojiro looks over at him, wide-eyed, as Kaoru lets out a laugh so unbidden, a sound he hadn’t heard in years. Probably not since before Adam even entered their life.
And he can’t help but laugh with him, watching as Adam struggles to get back up, slipping and taking another tumble.
“Serves him right!” He yells at the screen as he joins in Kaoru’s laughter.
He makes sure Adam doesn’t come near them when they go to congratulate Reki. The look in his eyes is warning enough.
And he’ll punch him again if he needs to.
But right now, he pulls Reki in for a side hug, ruffling his hair, incredibly proud.
Disregarding the technicality that said Adam had won that race, Reki had won in every other sense of the word.
Kojiro shares in this win, feeling just as victorious.