Chapter Text
OCTOBER
@langaboards 9-23
late day on the slopes but a nice view #snowboarding #snow #boarding #vancouver #vbc #sunset
Reki frowned. Still no new video uploaded by langaboards, even though it had been nearly three weeks since this last one. He watched it on loop another four times before sighing deeply and exiting the TikTok app altogether.
Reki hadn’t expected to be this invested in a single tiktoker, but after months spent checking for updates from this Langa guy specifically, he had to admit he was slightly obsessed. Not obsessed like he was about skateboarding, though.
It was skateboarding he’d been looking for when he’d found Langa’s page the first time. After giving in to hearing all of his classmates talk obsessively about this fun app they were all playing with between classes, Reki decided to check it out himself. And he had to give it to them, it was addicting. It was very easy to wile away the hours at DOPE SKETCH scrolling through video after video. Reki quickly realized he could also search for videos, so the first thing he did was look for skateboarders. And find them he did.
He followed every page he saw that was remotely related to skateboarding and spent the next night watching so many videos his phone overheated in his hand and he had to give up for the night otherwise it would never cool down.
It was a few weeks into it, when his addition had cooled to a casual scroll, that he was flipping through #boarding and he found langaboards. He’d been confused at first by the snow, but then realized his mistake. Before he had the chance to back out, though, movement caught his eye. The snowboarder was decked out from head to foot in gear; there was no discernable feature to them other than their height. But the move they pulled, a sort of backflip off of an incline with a twist, had Reki’s eyes widening and jaw dropping. He’d seen skaters pull that exact move, but watching a snowboarder do it was something new to behold.
Maybe it was the differences to skateboarding, or maybe it was the similarities. But Reki found himself on Langa’s page which detailed sparsely Langa S. (he/him) - 16 - VBC snowboarder confirming Langa’s gender and age (same age as him and already so skilled!). Then Reki saw how many followers the guy had, and— wow. He had enough and then some to get a link on his profile (something krsk8 with his empty account of 15 followers — all classmates — did not) which read: www.canadasnowboard.ca/en/team/slopestyle/langa-shields/
This dude wasn’t just some snowboarder in Vancouver, he was a national team hopeful in slopestyle, whatever that was. The page sparsely exclaimed RIDER BIO COMING SOON! but did confirm Langa’s location (VBC apparently meaning Vancouver, British Columbia), age, and stance (goofy, which Reki assumed meant the same in skateboarding, that Langa rode with the right foot in front). The rest of the rankings and information were gibberish to Reki who knew little of snowboarding, or even snow, having lived in Okinawa all his life. So he went back to TikTok and watched all of Langa’s videos and liked every single one of them. He even commented on them, using the passable but still embarrassing English skills he had to compliment the boarder, like, “so high!” and, “that flip looks like fun,” and, “congratulations on winning!”
Since following the snowboarder, Reki checked every other day for a new video, and he usually had at least one to catch up on. Though his one true love was skateboarding, Reki could admit snowboarding looked just as interesting if you lived in a world of snow.
But now it was October and Langa hadn’t posted anything new for weeks, which had never happened before in the four months Reki had been keeping track.
Except, there was something new, Reki realized. The profile looked different. The link was gone. And there was a video missing. Reki could tell because he’d been checking every few days, so he was well acquainted with what Langa’s page looked like, and one of the squares was missing, replaced by the one posted before it. Reki tried to recall what video it had been, but all he remembered was shadows of figures across a patch of snow.
His phone buzzed in his hand as a banner slid down across the screen, the calendar notification he’d set up. Setting his phone aside, Reki silently crept out of his room into the hall and peeked his head into the bedrooms of his sisters, mom, and grandma. All asleep, as expected for fifteen minutes to midnight.
For everyone except Reki, that is. Reki had S to get to.
After ducking back into his room, Reki snagged his S pin, affixed it to his hoodie, shoved his phone into its pocket, and then lifted his skateboard from where it had been propped against the wall. One left-open window later, Reki skated down the homemade ramp affixed to the house’s outside wall and was off.
The ride to S was a bit far on a skateboard alone, but Reki didn’t have a beef to get to, so he could afford to show up after the gates had already opened. He did sigh wistfully (once he was safely out into the streets where his noises could be swallowed by the nighttime) for the DOPE SKETCH scooter. He was close to convincing his manager to allow him to use it, but not yet. Maybe he’d try during winter break. He’d only been at the job for a couple months (officially, unofficially he’d been doing work for Manager Oka for closer to a year, after the accident…) since he’d just turned sixteen in August. He needed to be seen as a more worthwhile employee before sticking his neck out and asking for a favor like that.
As soon as Reki was past the gates, he could see S was in full swing, and he skated towards the abandoned factory that marked the end of the track, hoping he could catch the winning skater as they crossed the finish line. Reki fingered his phone in his pocket, a smile twitching at his lips.
Over the past month, Reki had become a bit TikTok famous himself. Not that anyone knew it was Reki running the account essk8 (Extra Secret Skate, as its full name) that documented goings on at S. Having the account wasn’t technically against the rules of S, as he always shot or edited the videos obscuring faces using flashy filters and stickers, but he had no plans to ever come out as its owner. Phones weren’t prohibited, so as long as Reki was subtle, he had no worries of getting caught.
His account had started on a whim one evening because he’d shot a simple video of himself skating a part of the track, camera pointed down at his feet on the board, and posted it to his personal account krsk8. It actually got views! It got him thinking— that video was nothing in comparison to all the stuff that goes down at S! And if people like langaboards could make a following from just filming their everyday actions and experiences, then why couldn’t Reki?
So the next night of S, he’d set up a brand new account and shot videos from multiple beefs and races, posting them throughout the next few days. And just like his first, they also gained traction! So he kept doing it, and it turned into something that skaters at S found out about. Reki kept it up, putting his own spins on videos and even went so far as to download video editing apps to do slow-mo shots and dramatic transitions. He hadn’t had much of a chance to play with them yet, but he was looking forward to messing around.
Now he had a couple thousand followers and close to a hundred thousand likes. Not bad for less than two months.
Reki thought about Langa as he reopened the app and switched accounts, backing off of the Vancouverite teen’s page. He hoped the guy was okay.
The two skaters entered the factory, and noise exploded around Reki, shocking him enough out of his stupor, aiming his camera towards the boards and pressing the red record button.
DECEMBER
@essk8 6h ago
このキックフリップを見る!!! #S #スケボー #スケートボード #skateboarding #skateboard #sk8 #キックフリップ #フリップ #kickflip
Since following this page, Langa had been accidentally brushing up on his Japanese, so he knew without difficulty that the caption read, “Watch this kickflip!!!” along with several relevant hashtags. He sat up from where he had been lounging back in his desk chair and leaned over his phone, doing as the caption asked.
This video was a longer one, a full minute, and it showed first in regular time the kickflip and then the move again but in slow motion. As the skater’s movements slowed, text appeared on the screen and the robotic voice read it aloud. It was instructions on how the skater achieved the move.
Langa felt his feet shift against the ground, unconsciously taking the same stance as the skater.
It had been weeks, months really, since he’d put his feet on a board, but his body knew the motions. It wasn’t something he could ever lose, the muscle memory.
There were plenty of other memories he wished he could lose. But those weren’t quick to leave him either.
Shaking his head, not wanting to dwell, Langa watched the video two more times in succession. Though different from snowboarding, many skateboarding moves had the same names, but a kickflip was something you couldn’t do in snowboarding as your feet were attached to the board (though some had attempted it, it wasn’t really a move one could smartly pull).
For the first time in a long while, Langa felt the urge to try it.
But it wasn’t a snowboard he wanted. He longed for a skateboard, something he didn’t own and wouldn't know how to handle even if he did.
On the third to last day of September, Langa had set aside snowboarding, he swore, for good. He’d tried, he’d truly tried. But taking to the slopes that day without his father at his side or waiting for him below was useless. After falling for a sixth time due to lack of concentration, he left.
His dad died later that evening, succumbing to the illness that had crept upon them all so quickly, silently, and devastatingly.
It took a week to get Langa to leave his room, and even that was only successful because of the funeral. Two weeks, and he started eating regularly again, but alone. He couldn’t look his mother in the eye, not yet. They were only mirrors for each other, reflecting their emotions on their face, the same feelings of heartbreak in their swollen eyes.
It was three weeks before he remembered his phone, and after cycling through and deleting, not reading, notifications he’d missed, he clicked open TikTok on instinct, muscle memory, and was greeted with video after video of snow, snow, snow—
He put the phone down and walked away.
The next day he tried again. He quickly switched away from the For You Page to his own profile and began dismantling it. He was no longer associated with the National team. How could he be, if he would never snowboard again? He removed his profile link and simplified the rest. He deleted his profile photo too.
He didn’t get much further with eliminating his presence, however, when his eyes caught on one of the five videos previewed on his profile page. In the middle of the second row was an image of his and his father’s shadows across the snowy slope, taken on the last day before his dad had been hospitalized and bedridden. He deleted it with a deft swipe of his thumb, closed out the app, and once again put his phone down and walked away.
It was only after another month that he remembered the app and, out of curiosity, opened it back up. As if blowing the dust off of his account, the first video recommended to him was some basic comedy sketch, the second a dance video to the newest popular song. The third was an account called essk8. The caption was all in Japanese (Langa had followed a few Japanese accounts, so that was likely how the algorithm had equated it to him), and it took him a mother-side-eyeingly long time for him to translate.
Skateboarding.
The camera was aimed at the sky, a dark night alight with stars, and street lamps casting a glow over the concrete. The video was just that one shot for a few seconds, but then the background music crescendoed, some popular K-Pop song beat drop, and in slow motion, a skateboard appeared, jumping over the phone. Langa’s breath hitched in his chest as the colorful art on the base of the board swirled across the screen, blue and yellow tennis shoes lifting from their perch and then settling back in place on the board’s deck, light as air.
The song cut out as the board disappeared from view, but the video continued, and Langa could hear the roll of wheels against the concrete and scattered background noise, like there were many people around but not close by.
The video ended, looping around, and Langa stared unseeing as it played again. What was this feeling in his chest? He clutched at his shirt collar, feeling his heartbeat stutter again as the board landed.
Whatever this feeling was, Langa wanted to continue feeling it, so he clicked on essk8’s profile (just a simple ‘S’ in the bio) and watched each of their videos back. The further back he went, the worse the quality of the shooting became, but Langa didn’t mind.
He was feeling something else again.
Since that day, Langa had gotten slightly addicted to watching skateboarding videos, his FYP rearranging itself accordingly so that only the rare, easily swipeable, snowboarding videos crept in. He’d become especially attached to S, though he still had no idea what the solitary letter meant. No single individual was ever at the forefront of the videos, and in fact Langa could hardly tell one from the next. Some boards looked familiar, but no faces were ever shown.
A kickflip, huh? Langa wanted to try it.
Creeping out of his room like a child about to be scolded, Langa approached the living room where his mother was resting after work. He could smell food on the stove simmering, and his stomach growled in response.
“How was work?” Langa asked.
His mother startled, hand clasping at her chest as her head whipped around to watch him enter the room and seat himself on the arm of the couch. “Langa! You surprised me. Work was, uh, fine. The usual.” She chuckled dryly. Langa nodded in understanding, though he really did not.
Things had improved between his mom and him a bit over the last month. They silently agreed to share dinners together when possible, but for the most part she spent as many hours as she could working (to make up for the loss of income) and he devoted himself to school, sleeping, and recently skateboarding videos.
They hadn’t really… talked. But Langa missed her, and he knew she did too, so he decided to try.
“Dinner smells good.” He nodded his head towards the kitchen.
His mom smiled. “Chicken and rice. Hope that’s okay?”
Langa nodded. “More than fine. I like it.”
His mother nodded too. “Great.”
A beat.
They both exhaled simultaneously.
“So, Mom…” Langa hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. Should he even bring it up? It wasn’t like the current weather was conducive to skating. Langa had no idea if indoor skate rinks existed near him. He’d need a skateboard first, and it wasn’t like they had the money to spare to buy one. How much did skateboards even cost? Langa should have done research first.
His mother was staring at him, the furrow between her eyebrows deepening every second that Langa stayed quiet.
“Never mind,” Langa said lamely. “I forgot,” he added, even more lamely.
His mother obviously didn’t believe him, and she still looked concerned. He hated that he put that look on her face.
“Want me to make you a plate?” he asked.
“That would be nice, thank you,” his mom replied, relaxing slightly.
Langa escaped into the kitchen, grateful for the excuse, except now he had volunteered to finish up dinner and serve it. Right. Where were the serving spoons again?
JANUARY
langaboards
liked your video. 18m
Reki shouted aloud, seeing the familiar username in the notifications for essk8. Then he winced and slowly raised his eyes from his phone.
The entire classroom was staring at him, including the teacher. Who was in the middle of an English lesson. Because he was in class. Right.
Reki cleared his throat and slid his phone slowly onto his lap and between his legs to hide it. Thankfully, he’d propped his textbook up to hide his activities, but he doubted he truly fooled his audience. Who were now snickering.
“Sorry,” he apologized. “There was a bug.” He slapped his desk, a little too hard, and held back from wincing at the pain. “Got it.”
Slowly, the lesson resumed, and Reki exhaled. His heartbeat had yet to settle, though.
Reki had fallen out of habit of checking Langa’s page every few days. He thought he remembered checking it the week previous, but the continuity of no change hadn’t been a surprise.
This was, though. What was a Canadian snowboarder, who had basically gone off the grid, doing liking videos of S? How had he even found the page? The only English Reki used was in the hashtags, so it wasn’t like their language was the same. Maybe Langa was Japanese? He’d never seen the teen’s full face in any of his videos, so there was no way to tell visually. And Reki supposed he also had seen the similar draw between the two sports, so that could be the connection. But how random was that? What were the odds?
Maybe TikTok recognized his stalking and tried to nudge Langa in his direction. Reki mentally scoffed at the image his brain formed.
Reki was pretty lax at checking notifications, as he never responded to any of the comments posted, not wanting to give any part of himself away as the owner of the account. It was a near miracle he’d even seen this one.
How long had Langa been watching his videos?
Reki itched to reach for his phone and scroll back and look for evidence, but he was on thin ice and didn’t want to be held back by the teacher. He had a shift right after school and Oka would give him that look again if he was late.
Reki forced himself to be on his best behavior for the rest of class, and he even waited until he got to DOPE SKETCH to pull out his phone again as he restocked the shelves.
Langa had been watching, and from what Reki could see, he had been watching for a while. His name popped up in the notifications as far back as a week ago, which was as far back as Reki had the patience to scroll through.
Langa’s account boasted no new content. At least the kid was alive. Reki had been seriously concerned for a while there.
Langa hadn’t just liked... He also commented! Just the once, six days ago, that Reki could see.
The video was one he’d filmed himself doing a few chunks of, which consisted of a 360 spin view of an ollie. He’d shot the rest of them at S two weeks ago and cobbled them all together into one video that showed the trick from all the way around, a collage of skaters. He’d been pretty proud of that one.
langaboards
commented: ご協力ありがとうございました
6d
Stilted wording, but Reki wasn’t surprised. English was probably his first, maybe only, language. Still, the thanks for help was heartwarming. Whether Langa knew Japanese or he looked up how to say it in Reki’s language, the sentiment was the same.
Wait— help? What help was Reki’s silly video? Maybe it was an error in translation.
Whatever the reason, Reki felt a bit lighter knowing Langa was still active, and it was kind of thrilling knowing someone he had been a fan of was now watching the stuff he shot.
Breaking all of his own rules of the essk8 account, Reki liked the comment.
“Reki!”
Reki jumped, slamming his head on the top of the shelf, and as he moaned in pain, he watched his manager roll his eyes and point at the box.
“That’s what you get for not doing your job. Get off the phone and work. I’d like your help on this board repair, when you have a moment.”
Reki perked up. “Really? Yes!”
Setting his phone aside, Reki quickly refilled all of the rows of trucks and wheels before following Oka into the back.
Reki clapped his hands together, startling the man. “So, what are we working with?”
As Oka explained what the order was, Reki made a list on a notepad what parts he would need and their colors, his mind mentally calculating what advantages and disadvantages this setup would allow for.
At home, Reki had been converting their unused garage into a workroom space. He was in the middle of a build himself, just something that he was playing with. He didn’t think he would be the right skater to use that board, but he was having fun making something.
He wondered if Langa was getting into skateboarding as well as snowboarding. He wondered what kind of board he had.
He hoped Langa would leave another comment soon. Reki wondered if he could make another video like that one, more of the instructional kind, that would encourage it.
He took some video clips of the build as he and Oka worked to post on his real account (which now had two hundred random followers!). He wished he could show off his work to the larger crowd on the S account, but then his identity would be exposed.
Oh well.
FEBRUARY
“Langa?”
His mother’s voice and the sudden knock on his door put Langa on his ass. Literally.
He’d been practicing balancing for the last hour, just standing on his second-hand skateboard and trying not to let it slip out from under him. He’d been pretty successful, up until the interruption.
Langa bit back his groan as he rubbed his sore tailbone that he knew had to be painted with bruises from the last couple of weeks of basic skateboarding self-taught lessons in his bedroom or on the driveway right after shoveling and salting the ground.
The knock came again. “Langa? Can we talk?”
That spurred Langa on. He and his mother had had a few heart-to-hearts since his father died, and they all started like this. They never got any easier to handle.
“I’ll be right out!” Langa assured her, slowly getting to his feet and then nudging with his foot the skateboard under his bed.
For his seventeenth birthday, Langa took some of the money he’d been gifted and bought the skateboard. It was well-used but in decent condition. And for someone like him who was just messing around, he didn’t want to shell out for a good board and fresh grip tape or new wheels or any of the several things that he’d researched.
This was something new, and it was just for him right now. His mom didn’t know about it, thus the shoving-it-under-his-bed.
He closed his bedroom door behind him and saw his parents’— mom’s bedroom door hanging open. She was seated on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to her when he hovered in the doorway, apprehensive.
She didn’t look angry, or super sad, so Langa had hope that this wouldn’t be as emotional as their previous “talks.”
“It seems like you’ve been happier,” his mom said, surprising Langa.
He cleared his throat. “Um… yes?”
She patted his hand. “I’m happy to see it. I was really worried when you quit snowboarding—” Langa flinched, “— that you would be upset for a while.”
Langa rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh, found a new hobby, I guess? Nothing— nothing crazy, just… watching videos.” As lame as it sounded, that simple statement was more upfront about his recent movements than he’d been with his mom in months.
His mother smiled and patted his knee this time.
Skateboarding had pretty much taken the place of snowboarding in Langa’s life, even though he really couldn’t do much. He immersed himself in how-to videos, in board design step-by-step tutorials, and of course the essk8 TikTok.
The more of those videos he watched, and the more comments he read, translated, and deciphered, he thought he had a pretty good idea of what was happening. The S wasn’t just for skate. It was for secret, too.
So far, he only knew a few things, but he knew them pretty assuredly:
- S was a secret skateboarding track. The location of the videos was always the same, and always set at night.
- It was definitely in Japan, probably in a prefecture with nice weather because even in the height of winter, there was not a speck of snow on the ground, only puddles from past rain showers.
- No one knew who ran the account.
- The races weren’t exactly safe. Or legal.
That was the limited knowledge Langa had, but even knowing that much made him feel like he was in on it, like he was a part of this community thousands of kilometers away.
He liked being a part of something. He liked even more that he could do it on his terms, his timeline. Having control for the first time since quitting snowboarding was a revelation, because he hadn’t realized he’d lost it once he had it again.
His mother was giving him an odd look, and Langa realized she must have said something. He hadn’t been listening.
“Sorry. Repeat that?”
She sighed, but she still didn’t look upset. “I was saying that I am glad you are doing better, but since you’re now seventeen and you’re almost an adult, I feel I can be more open and honest with you about serious things.”
Langa nodded slowly, unsure of where this conversation was headed. He’d already had the sex talk, so—
“Langa, I am not doing great.” His mother’s eyes were misty, and Langa froze as her hands grasped his. She pursed her lips, took a deep breath, before continuing. “Since Oliver… You know how much I work. And I would gladly do it for as long as I needed to. I am your parent and it is my job to do so. If it was only work, it wouldn’t be an issue. But it’s this house. This city. Everything reminds me of Oliver.”
Langa stayed quiet; let his mother brush away her fallen tears and collect herself before continuing.
“You were able to leave snowboarding. And though I am still unsure if that was the right move, you made that decision and I stand by it. You separated yourself from the thing you did with your father for your mental health, and I realize now how important that is. But honey, I haven’t had that choice. We still live in the city I moved to to be with him, in the house we bought together, sleep in the bed we shared… As strong as we Shi—” She cut herself off, and Langa knew why. As of a few weeks ago, they were no longer legally “Shields.” She’d reclaimed her maiden name, and Langa had followed in solidarity. “— H-Hasegawas are, staying here is too much.”
She stared at him, and Langa knew she was waiting for a response. “Okay,” he said simply, after a long pause.
Her shoulders sagged and she pulled him into a hug, managing to tuck him underneath her chin despite their height difference even when seated, and rub his back. “I want to move back home.”
Langa couldn’t help how still his body went. “Home. Like… Japan?”
His mother nodded, breaking the hug to look at him once more. “Okinawa is where I grew up, and though we don’t have any family there anymore, I know it well. And my medical credentials would get us much farther there. I’ve already… applied.” She dropped her gaze, as if saying it would upset Langa.
“Okay,” he said again, trying to process everything.
So they were going to move to Japan. Okinawa, Japan, which from what Langa recalled from his mother’s stories of her childhood was a small island. That would mean starting at a new school.
“When?” he asked.
“Well, the school year for you would start in April, so at the end of March. I know that cuts into your school year here, but I’m sure we can coordinate that. The school system works differently there. You’d be a second year in Japan.”
“I’ve read manga, I’m aware,” Langa joked, and his comment released some of the tension from the moment.
His mother laughed, brushing the last of the tears away from her cheeks. “Right, of course. And we should start speaking more in Japanese, to get used to it again. It’s going to be quite the adjustment.” She paused and assessed her son. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? You don’t have to come with me, if you’re truly against it.”
Okay? Langa wasn’t sure he’d been okay with anything for a while. But this was what was best for his mom, and he certainly wasn’t going to watch her leave him too. So no matter how annoying it would be to lose his summer break and pack up and move his entire life across the ocean and change languages… he would do it.
“Let’s do it,” he said, gifting his mother a confident smile.
Maybe he’d learn to skate in Okinawa.
MARCH
Reki was the master of going unnoticed at S, but as his skills improved, the thrill to join in on the race captured him. He wanted in on a beef. He didn’t have much to offer, but he wanted to race. The scattered few he’d been a part of had been group races with stupid silly bets like drawing on the loser’s board.
There were some really amazing skaters who came out most S evenings, and the even better ones showed up maybe one in every four. They had fans; a following. And Reki would know. The devoted fans knew Cherry Blossom’s board by heart, and when it came to the one race of Cherry’s that he’d posted clips of on essk8, the Cherry Girls had come out in full force in the comment section.
S wasn’t only discussed on his TikTok. There were also many Twitter threads that spurred up with each race, and even a discord server that announced all races for the night. But Reki had the lock on visual content.
The problem was that if he was racing, there would be no one to record the race. And though he could get away with it maybe twice or three times, eventually it would become obvious who was taking the video if the only races that weren’t captured were the ones he was in.
Sure, the rest of the page’s viewers outside of S wouldn’t know. Langa wouldn’t know. But the ones in S would. They’d pick up on it. And he was not about to ask anyone else to do it. The only person he would trust would be his manager, and Oka only rarely came to S and, if he found out, would scold Reki for doing it in the first place.
So as much as he wanted to, Reki held back from egging Shadow, another popular skater, into a match. No matter how much the made-up man goaded with his taunts.
If pressed, Reki would also admit that he liked making tiktoks. Reki had always had a knack for figuring things out. His grades were above average, but that was kind of because he really only cared about skating. His participation points and in-class assignments suffered, but his tests were easy.
Except English. Reki sucked at English. It was so hard. It was a stupid language.
So when something was a learned skill, like videography or skateboarding, Reki wanted to spend time on it and find out how it worked and how to be better at it. He could get tools that improved the craft and learn how those worked as well.
Tonight, there were only about half of the regular amount of people at S due to the rain, which meant no serious beefs would be going down. He’d seen on Twitter a rumor that JOE might show up, but the rain—
Suddenly, he heard the loud shrieking of several people, thankfully in joy rather than pain. Reki had heard both in the past.
Well, going by the noise, maybe JOE did show.
Reki readied his phone. Even if JOE just stood and watched, a shot of that would generate a lot of views. Especially if Ch—
Right on cue.
Though Reki had never spoken to many of the skaters here for more than just a passing compliment or taunt, he had never had any interaction with JOE or Cherry Blossom. They were practically celebrities, rumored to be co-creators of S. Reki had no idea if they knew his account existed, and if they did, their opinions on it. Since S was a bit of an open secret in the Okinawa skating scene, he could get away with it. But maybe not with its creators.
He couldn’t help getting a shot of the two’s boards as they skated over and joined the crowd. They disappeared from view, other skateboards and legs swallowing their spotlight. Reki thought the clip might make a good start for a compilation video of them. That video would do really well.
Reki didn’t really care about views or likes, but it was still nice to have visual proof of engagement. Proof for himself, he supposed.
The two senior skaters were bickering despite the crowd, which was a usual sight when the two crossed paths. If they hated each other so much, they should just schedule scattered appearances, Reki thought to himself.
He spent the evening sniping shots of skaters rolling through puddles and wiping out on turns due to the slick road. It got Reki thinking about how one could improve traction while skating in the rain. He thought he remembered seeing something in a magazine about wheels built for stormy weather. He made a note to look into it.
Reki was currently enjoying the brief break from school before he started his second year in a week, but the late nights at S and working on his newest board were catching up to him.
He was about to call it a night around one thirty when he saw a flash of color as it streaked past. His jaw dropped as he watched the short skater in a cat-eared and tailed jacket navigate the wet spots with ease, twisting their board beneath their feet expertly. Recognizably.
“Holy shit, that’s MIYA,” he muttered. The people around him heard, however, and suddenly everyone was watching the disguised-but-not-really Japanese National Team hopeful show his skills. Reki, without even realizing it, had his phone pointed out and towards the twelve-year-old. He would have to edit the video to hide MIYA’s face, of course (he already had the perfect cat head sticker in mind), but he would not miss the chance to capture a full-body shot of the skill being displayed.
After looping around the open area a few times, MIYA slowed as he approached the crowd of people Reki was standing with. MIYA raised his head from the ground and looked, Reki swore, directly at his phone and grinned.
MIYA raised a single finger to his lips in a shushing motion as Reki stood frozen, realizing that his secret was now exposed. Other people had their phones out, sure, but his was raised in a very not subtle, not essk8 way, capturing the moment.
He met MIYA’s eyes. MIYA rolled to a stop a few feet away and shook his head, rain droplets flying off of his jacket and dislodging the hood from its perch. He met Reki’s gaze once more, this time shaking his head deliberately in a “no,” eyes darting down to the phone and back.
Reki relaxed. MIYA wouldn’t say anything. Reki wasn’t about to admit anything, either, but he knew MIYA technically had more to lose between the two of them.
Reki locked his phone and slowly slid it into his hoodie pocket. Yep, he was done for the night.
He also, somehow, had formed an alliance with Chinen Miya.
APRIL
Two days before the school year started for him, and two days after Langa and his mother had moved into their new apartment in Okinawa, Langa began his search for skateboarding.
It was actually a very short search, because after getting his laptop connected to the internet and Googling “skateboarding in Okinawa”, the third suggestion was a shop called DOPE SKETCH which was labeled as a skateboarding emporium.
The shop also happened to be less than twenty minutes away from their apartment on foot, if he didn’t get lost. It would take Langa just as long to skate there, as he’d only just mastered keeping his balance on the board— he was not up to actually riding it yet.
Langa took his time as he walked, skateboard slung under one arm and eyes squinting into the bright midday sun. Everything about Okinawa was different from Vancouver. The sun and the heat, for one thing. Even in April, it was a warmth with a light breeze that rivaled Vancouver even at the height of summer. And this was a cooler month?
Palm trees dominated the grassy patches alongside streets, and the constant scent of sea on the air was off putting. Langa wondered how long it would take for him to adjust. He and his mother had spent the last month speaking only in Japanese, reviewing customs and honorifics so that they would both not accidentally come across as rude. Langa still wasn’t great at the written language. His hiragana and katakana were passable, but his kanji… Langa winced. Best not to think about it.
Langa continued to consult his phone as he walked, assuring himself that he was going the right direction. Finally, the bold and capitalized English letters came into view as he descended the hill, and his shoulders relaxed, embracing the tiny aspect of familiarity. DOPE SKETCH was a squat building with a rooftop terrace, a vending machine out front, and a wall plastered with brand-name stickers, some he would not even attempt to read. A rack of skateboards, all decorated with different designs on the baseboards, were lined up out front. None of them had wheels, he realized, and looked attached to the outside of the building. Langa stopped for a moment to admire the art piece as he caught his breath. He looked longingly at the vending machine. He didn’t have any change on him, just a 1,000 and a 2,000 yen bill his mother had ordered him to keep in his wallet, just in case. The machine and its sweating sports drinks only took coins.
The door was glass-paneled, so he could see into the shop before he pushed it open. He froze in the entryway and couldn’t help the, “Woah,” that escaped him, along with his widening eyes.
“It’s cool, right?” said a voice from his right.
Langa whipped his head around to see an employee stand from their crouch next to a display of T-shirts, an empty cardboard box at their feet. They smiled at Langa, their pink uniform shirt boasting the shop’s name on the sleeve and logo on the breast.
“Yeah. I mean—” Langa floundered, fearing he’d already used impolite speech. “Yes.”
The employee gestured to the board Langa nearly forgot he had in hand. “That yours? Could use new grip tape.” They tilted their head to the side, eyes narrowing as they assessed the board. Langa realized with a jolt he had been holding the door open this entire time and stepped forward, letting it close behind him. The warm wood ceiling fan whirred above them, and its hum was a comforting soundtrack.
Langa hugged the skateboard to his chest and blurted, “I’m learning. To skateboard.”
The worker nodded slowly and hummed, but they looked amused. “Are you looking for pads and a helmet?”
“No, thank you. Where do people skate here?” Langa asked instead, realizing belatedly how dismissive he probably sounded.
The worker gestured to the door with a sweeping arm. “Anywhere.”
A funny yipping noise cut through the air, and Langa jumped, gaze swiveling to the front desk where a… fox… was sitting on the counter. Maybe it’s a dog? Looked like a fox. Langa had never seen an actual fox before, outside of zoo field trips in elementary school.
Do people in Japan keep foxes as pets?
Focus, Langa. Skateboarding.
“Sketchy won’t hurt you,” the employee assured him, and then said, “as long as you don’t pet him,” which negated the sentiment.
“I, um.” Langa tried to collect his thoughts. The store was just so colorful and filled with things he wanted to stare at, and it was impossible for his eyes to settle on just one thing. He forced himself to focus on the worker. “I just moved here and am learning. Is there a skatepark nearby?”
They nodded and Langa’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Yeah, not far from here, actually. Down close to the beach.”
Langa nodded slowly.
He received a smirk. “Want me to draw you a map?”
Langa pursed his lips and jerkily nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you.”
He learned the employee, Oka-san, was actually the manager of DOPE SKETCH, and Langa explained how he’d just moved and now had the opportunity to skate, that he’d learned through videos online but now wanted to learn for real.
“You sure you don’t want padding?” the man asked a second time.
Langa shook his head. “I used to snowboard. I’m used to falling.” He thought about what his mom used to say any time he was spared a serious injury and smirked to himself. “I have strong bones.”
Langa took some time after the manager plotted out directions for him to look around the shop. The 3,000 yen burned a hole in his wallet, but he couldn’t afford to be extravagant. Langa had money, savings from winnings from competitions, but it was all in a bank in Canada waiting until he turned eighteen, an agreement he and his parents had made years ago.
“You aren’t hiring by chance, are you, Oka-tenchou?” Langa asked after sighing at the price of a pair of silver trucks.
The manager smiled, pinched-lipped. “I already have a part-timer.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Though he’s late today, which isn’t like him. Maybe a job will open up soon,” he joked.
Langa laughed, because he felt he was supposed to, but he didn’t feel it. He really should find a job to help his mom out. Maybe he could walk around some more and see if there were any “Help Wanted” signs in store windows.
“I’ll be back,” Langa said, and thanked the man again for his help. Once he made some money, he was definitely going to see what improvements he could make to his board.
Honestly, he wanted to buy a whole new one. From the research he did, he felt he would skate better on a longboard, as that was what he was accustomed to. But a standard board was what he had, so for now he would stick with it.
Directions in hand, Langa exited the shop and headed down the hill, towards where the skatepark was supposed to be. He wouldn't do any skating today, but he wanted to figure out where it was. Learning his new neighborhood now would be really helpful in the long run, and Langa learned and retained information best through action.
A blur of red and pink shot past him, and Langa dodged out of the way just in time as a kid on a skateboard blew past him towards DOPE SKETCH. They came to a halted stop outside, barely stepping off their board before throwing open the door and shouting apologies to Oka-tenchou for their tardiness. So that must be the part-timer, Langa thought with a sigh as the door shuttered behind him. So much for that job.
Langa squared his shoulders. He’d just have to keep looking. He purchased a newspaper at a stand on his walk and flipped to the ads in the back. There was a calligraphy place that quoted a high hourly wage for an assistant position that looked promising. He made a note to fill out an application tonight.
Reki was exhausted.
After a double-night at S — a rarity, but never something to miss — Reki needed sleep. It wasn’t just S that kept him up. It was that stupid Chinen Miya. He’d cornered Reki before he could sneak away from S the week before and demanded his phone number and screen name. Since then, they had been bickering and throwing jibes back and forth over text.
Reki wondered if the kid had any other friends. He supposed becoming a national champion could be isolating. He probably practiced a lot.
Had plenty of time at night to keep Reki up, though.
Reki never responded to Miya’s texts regarding why he was recording at S. Miya knew that Reki knew that Miya knew, but Reki would not let Miya know that Reki knew that Miya knew… that Reki knew...
Ugh.
At first, Reki worried Miya would demand he turn over the footage and erase any content including MIYA from essk8. If word got out he attended an illegal underground skateboarding track, it could damage his real-life reputation. But the kid didn’t say anything about that. He just wanted Reki to admit it. And to also hit Reki with jabs and critiques about his own skating.
Of course Reki read them, because Miya was MIYA. He knew what he was talking about, even if he was annoying and belligerent.
He couldn’t blame this morning’s sluggishness on Miya, though. That was all Reki staying way too late at S and rolling into bed around four. JOE and Cherry had a beef which filled Crazy Rock with eager fans. Cherry ended up winning, but from what Reki heard, that only tied their score against one another, so in the end it led to a draw. It was still a fun race, even if the JOE fangirls liked to crowd.
Reki slid into the classroom through the backdoor, throwing himself into his seat assigned the week previous after the opening ceremony. He ignored the looks his friends shot him when they noticed his bandaged arm. He’d tried a new trick. He’d landed a new trick. He just hadn't landed nicely.
The sprain would heal in a week, two tops. At least it wasn’t his dominant hand. The bandage was unnecessary in his opinion, but when his mother instructed him to follow the recovery rules, he couldn’t and wouldn’t ignore her.
There was a kid standing at the front of the room, Reki realized with a jolt, one he had never seen before. Reki rubbed at his bleary eyes and tried to read the board where his name had been written.
Everyone was staring at the silent and stiff blue-haired student. Their teacher cleared his throat. “Anything you’d like to tell us about yourself, Hasegawa-kun?”
Hasegawa. Got it. He dropped his eyes from the hazy board. Reki yawned, and his jaw cracked. He winced at the noise and rubbed his chin to work out the full ache.
“I… moved here from Canada,” Hasegawa announced, and nothing more. The class chittered.
Again, their teacher cleared his throat. “Alright then. Take a seat next to Kyan-kun.”
There was an empty desk next to him, Reki noticed then. He was really tired.
The new guy stared at him after taking his seat, and Reki shot him a tired grin and small wave. Hasegawa nodded and turned away, pulling a notebook from his backpack.
Reki doodled his way through the day, finalizing the design he wanted to put onto his newest board. He now had nearly three hundred followers on his krsk8 TikTok and had promised the seventeen of them that commented regularly an update on his progress. He felt Hasegawa’s eyes on him throughout the day, but ignored the looks. He was too focused on staying awake, even if he couldn’t focus on anything else.
He moved classrooms in a daze, fumbled his way through PE, and when the school day finally ended, chugged an energy drink and headed to work.
Langa had no idea how he got here. Well, he had some idea. But he was pretty sure it all came down to luck and, weirdly, his run-down skateboard.
He’d gone in to interview at the calligraphy shop, and the owner, Sakurayashiki Kaoru-san, initially sat him down politely — with an offering of tea that Langa did not drink because he was too uncomfortable with sitting properly on his knees— and told him that he was not looking to hire a minor. He apologized for the misunderstanding, or was halfway through one, when he noticed the skateboard Langa had propped up against the wall in the corner of the room next to his backpack.
“Is that yours?” Sakurayashiki asked, and Langa nodded. The man hummed to himself, tapped his chin with his fan. “I thought you looked familiar.”
Langa’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“It was you standing outside just a bit ago, on the board.”
Langa held back a wince. He had not been graceful. It really had been silly of himself to try anything right before an interview. A busted face would not have endeared him. Thankfully, only his back and ego were bruised.
“Did you snowboard?”
Langa’s gaze shot up from his shaking thighs. “Yes,” he found himself blurting.
“For how long?”
Langa did a quick calculation in his head. “Fifteen years, about.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched, and he made another positive-sounding noise.
“Professionally?”
“For the last five.”
“Ranking?”
Langa’s head spun, but he replied, “Junior Nationals. Canadian Nation team hopeful, officially.”
Sakurayashiki’s eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed. “So, you’re a hard worker, ambitious, dedicated to learning and perfecting a craft, and devoted to a sport that requires acquired skills. And now you’ve taken up skateboarding here in Okinawa.”
How this man had figured all of that out from a few questions, Langa had no idea.
His unasked question was immediately answered. “The way you stood on the board. It was reminiscent of snowboarders, which is why I asked.”
“Um.” Langa tried to adjust his position and just made his legs remind him of their numbness. “I’m still learning?” It came out as a question.
Sakurayashiki set his fan down onto the table with a clack and steepled his fingers together. “I unfortunately cannot hire you for the role you initially submitted for. But I do have a... friend who is looking to hire someone to work the front at his restaurant. I think you two would get along.”
From some hidden compartment in the table, the man produced a sheet of paper, a pot of ink, and a pen and began elegantly etching as he spoke. “Here is the name and address of the place. They open at three, so you can stop by after school on Monday because they will be closed tomorrow due to… personal reasons. And you can show Nanjo-san, the owner, this note and tell him I sent you.” At that, the man grinned, a look that was foreign on the composed man’s face. “And tell him now he owes me one.”
So here Langa was, standing inside of Sia la Luce, with Nanjo Kojiro-san holding the hand-written note up to his face, eyebrows steadily rising as he skimmed it.
Nanjo scoffed and shook his head. “Kaoru…” he muttered, and then looked at Langa. “You willing to work hard?”
Langa nodded sharply, once. He’d come here straight from school, only stopping to ask for directions once along the way.
“Alright. You can start tomorrow. It will be a calmer evening, good for easing you into it. I’ll get you an apron. Do you have a white button down and black slacks? Or black jeans, at least?”
Langa nodded after a moment. They might be in a box somewhere, but he knew he had them.
“Wear those tomorrow. Here.” A menu was pushed into his hands. “Take tonight to learn the menu. I’ll help with any pronunciations you have trouble with. You’ll mostly be greeting, serving, and cleaning. Once you show your proficiency, we can work from there.”
Langa stayed quiet as Nanjo walked him through the employee contract, tried not to react when he saw how much an hour he would get paid — apparently Okinawa residents loved Italian — and bowed in thanks.
The man walked him out and finally gestured to the skateboard. “You any good?”
Langa shook his head. “Can barely stand. But I want to learn.”
Nanjo grinned, and Langa finally relaxed. Just because the man was tall and broad didn’t mean he couldn’t be nice. He’d hired him, after all, all on the word of a friend.
“That’s what’s important. Wanting.”
Nanjo disappeared back inside, and Langa thought about his words for a minute before he turned and headed for the skatepark. It was time he got some real practice in.
Maybe he’d see his classmate there. The redhead who sat next to him in homeroom (note to self: start learning names) had been doodling logos, and Langa had recognized them as ones he’d seen at the skate shop on various paraphernalia. And he was pretty sure he’d seen the redhead before that too, he just wasn’t sure when.
As Langa walked, he scrolled aimlessly through TikTok, primarily looking for one thing, which appeared pretty quickly once he swiped through a few videos.
Posted within the last hour, a essk8 post. This secret S skating thing continued to be a mystery to Langa. He knew it was secret due to it being an illegal activity, but part of him wished he could actually attend it and see these amazing skaters live in action. Being part of this secret community online was cool, but it would be way cooler if he, like all the rest of the commenters, knew when and where it was going down.
The video was, like the rest, taken in the dark of night, bright street lamps illuminating the rocky terrain. It was another compilation of the winners from the evening before (or so Langa assumed, he had no real clue) as they passed the finish line in what looked to be a warehouse of some kind. The majority of the background was blurred out, including the spectators as usual, so Langa couldn’t be sure. But in stark clarity were the lower halves of two skaters as they made a photo finish at the painted white line on cracked concrete. There were two more videos after that, though the skaters didn’t cut it nearly as close as the first two had.
The last shot was a hand reaching out of frame and into it, the focus shifting so that the only thing visible was a thumbs up. The person’s hand was wrapped in bandages, Langa noticed. He couldn’t be sure, but he had an inkling that this was the videographer’s hand.
How very fitting. A hand wrapped in bandages, expertly wound around the palm, was a physical manifestation of S: secretive, hidden, protected, risky.
Skill.
Miya somehow figured out where Reki worked and had developed a new hobby of bothering him whenever he had the chance.
To be truthful, that wasn’t every day. Miya was still a national champion, so he practiced nearly every afternoon, and Reki was sure that wasn’t the only thing the kid did besides sleep, eat, and school (not that Reki could judge, as he didn’t). But at least every three days, his shift at DOPE SKETCH was interrupted by a visit from the pre-teen.
To be even more truthful, it wasn’t that much of a bother. Miya was a cool kid, once you broke through all of the bluster and snark. Miya was a twelve-year-old who was equally too mature for his age and still desiring the companionship of kids who understood him. Luckily, Reki fit the bill near perfectly.
“You’re coming to S tonight, right?” Miya asked once the customer whom Reki had just rang up had the door firmly closed behind them.
Oka, from where he was working on the computer doing manager-equé duties like inventory spreadsheet upkeep, narrowed his eyes at them. “How did you end up at S in the first place?” he asked Miya.
Reki had found it through “working” (in his pre-working year) at DOPE SKETCH when Reki snuck out and followed Oka one night when he went to make a delivery he had mentioned off-handedly earlier that afternoon. Because Reki had been barely fourteen at the time, Oka had felt responsible and explained what it was to Reki, even getting him a guest pass to come in and see the next evening. Reki had gone all starry-eyed at the tricks and theatre of it all, and Oka had figured it was safer for Reki to go with him than alone. Even he knew Reki well enough by then that Reki would not stop showing up just because he was told no.
Oka eventually couldn’t keep up with every S event, only going sporadically and mainly for Reki’s benefit, and managed to get Reki a permanent pin of admittance. It came with a promise, of course, that Reki would be smart, not join in on a beef with anyone dangerous, and would immediately contact Oka if something were to happen or he needed an out.
Reki knew he was one of the youngest permanent attendees of S; though visitors varied in age, most were high school graduates at least. But Miya was by far the youngest in any category.
Reki leaned over the desk into Miya’s space, interested in his answer.
Miya of course just shrugged nonchalantly. “I was introduced to it by a senior member who showed me that it would be a new way to challenge myself.”
Both Oka and Reki waited for more, but Miya returned to his phone like he’d given a satisfactory explanation.
“That…” Reki finally broke the silence after half a minute, “is so boring.”
Miya slammed his phone onto the counter, and Oka jumped, the key on the computer clacking rhythmically as he backspaced the jumble of letters he’d filled the cell with. “Boring?!” Miya shouted, and Reki held back his smirk from getting the reaction he’d wanted.
He shrugged instead. “Yeah. There’s lots of people who got into S that way. At least I snuck in my first time.”
Miya visibly seethed, and Reki felt giddy.
“I actually go to S to skate,” Miya shot back after a moment of recovery. “Can you say the same?”
“I skate!” Reki shouted. “Just because I don’t beef doesn’t mean I don’t participate.” He waved his bandaged arm in emphasis. Not to say that he didn’t want to compete, but… TikTok secrets.
“Then race me!” Miya challenged.
“No,” Oka and Reki chorused in unison.
“Someone at my level would be dumb to go up against you at S. Also, what could you possibly want from me?” Reki pointed out. Every match at S was a barter, and most weren’t pretty. Sometimes other people got involved in the winnings, and those were always the ugly ones (exhilarating to watch, but relieving to be just an observer). And Miya probably had more money than Reki with all of the competitions he’d won.
“So you admit I’m better than you!”
Reki blinked. “Yes?” He and Oka shared a look. “You’re a national champion, Miya, of course you’re better. You don’t need to skate against me to know that.”
Miya’s shoulders drooped a little, but his eyes fell back to his phone as it pinged, and Reki tried to ignore the spike of guilt he felt.
“You also shouldn’t be skating a beef at S, Miya-chan,” Oka admonished, though the young teen wasn’t showing any signs of listening. “Even though you are very talented, it’s not a game they play.”
“I have never felt unsafe in any of my matchups,” Miya shot back, practiced, and Reki wondered if this was a speech he gave a lot or one he’d been waiting to use. “I never stay past my match, and I never lose, so there is no fearing retribution. Also, I have an app that if I don’t check in once every hour it sends a text with my location to my emergency contact. So if anything were to happen…” Miya let the sentence finish itself.
Reki was sorta impressed by the forward thinking. Truly Miya was far more mature than other kids his age.
“Still,” Oka said, after a moment.
“Besides.” This time Miya looked up and leered at Reki. “Now I have this guy tracking my every move.” His gaze slipped to Reki’s pocket where his phone made a recognizable rectangular bulge. “Isn’t that right?”
Reki’s eyes narrowed. Oka looked between them in confusion. “Yes, Miya. Of course I’ll look out for you. We’re friends.”
The satisfied smirk fell from Miya’s face in a way that would have been near comical if the look that replaced it wasn’t completely vulnerable. “Oh.” Miya cleared his throat, ducking his head, and when he raised it a second later, his confidence was back. “I don’t know if I could be friends with an unaccomplished slime like you.”
Reki beamed. “And yet, here we are! Since you keep messaging me so much, I just assumed.”
Miya was flustered again, and Reki knew he would pay for his comments once Oka was no longer in earshot, but it was worth it to take the win now. Reki hadn’t had a friend, a real friend — not just an acquaintance that he spoke to maybe once a month at S —to talk skate with in a while (Oka didn’t count). He didn’t want to scare Miya off, but he knew it was going to be a fine line keeping Miya entertained enough to not spill his essk8 secret (that he had yet to admit to but they both knew the truth).
“I have practice, because some of us have skill,” Miya said pointedly. Reki rolled his eyes. “See you tonight.”
A realization popped into Reki’s brain. Could it be? Yes. It was time.
“Oh, I wish I could be the chaperone for you, Miya, but it's too far for me to skate, especially when injured.” Reki draped himself over the counter. “Oh, if only there was a scooter I could borrow for the trip there, then I could for sure guarantee your safety as well as my own.”
Both boys stared Oka down.
Reki had been allowed to use the scooter twice outside of deliveries, but not to get to S. He’d been waiting for just the right moment to ask.
Oka raised his gaze from the computer, realizing the statement had been pointed toward him, thought about it for a moment, and then exhaled heavily. “Fine. Reki, I trust you not to be stupid. But!” He cut off Reki’s cheer as the teen threw his arms around Oka’s shoulders. “If there is a single scratch on the thing, I take it back.”
Reki grinned. He’d been waiting for this. “I know where to park it safely, and I’ll always wear a helmet and protective gear and I will never let anyone but allowed users drive it and only when I am also riding.” Reki recited the rules back without a hitch.
Oka sighed again, nodding slowly.
Miya slapped Reki on his wrapped arm, gaining him a yelp and glare. Miya just sneered his happy grin (he really needed to teach that kid how to look happy) and called out as he left, “See you at midnight!”
Oka stared after the kid, head shaking. “You’ll be sure to keep your eye on him, right?”
Reki stood up straight and nodded seriously. “Of course.”
After Miya’s departure, the rest of the afternoon into evening passed by quickly, and Reki’s shift ended in time for him to make it home for dinner. He argued with his oldest little sister over the rice while their mother huffed at them. Reki’s grandmother entertained the two youngest. It was a typical family dinner for the Kyans, and Reki loved it.
After clearing his dish, Reki pulled out his phone to check on the essk8 draft he’d posted to the account right before dinner. When he’d first started the account, Reki had hung on every notification, but once it garnered a real following he stopped. But after langaboards…
Reki scrolled and, pulse spiking, he read the very familiar screen name in the list of notifications. No comment, but Reki tried not to feel too disappointed. The video he’d posted had been a generic one, all things considered. It was long sweeping shots of the course as a whole, nothing detailed or cropped. Cinematically, Reki considered it to be one of his favorites, but it wasn’t action-packed in comparison to the one he’d posted this morning of a slow-motion crazy flip he’d caught someone do on one of the ramps.
Reki switched back to his main account, clicked on For You, and began his evening scroll. Skate trick. Snowboarding trick. Skate trick. Wow, amazing skate trick. Ad. He switched over to Following after a few minutes and got much of the same, sans the advertisements.
After a frankly adorable video one of his classmates posted showing off her cat playing on a cat tree, the next was a scene so familiar that Reki almost scrolled past it, assuming it was one of his own. It was a shot of the beach, and a sunset view whose echoes he could see peeking out from behind his own bedroom curtains. It was short, a fifteen second one, just a shot of the waves cresting over the rocky shore and retreating. The background was filled with a sound that Reki knew almost as well as the beat of his own heart: skateboarding.
This video was likely from one of his classmates, too, since Reki was pretty sure he knew exactly where it had been shot. But when he looked at the username, he almost dropped his phone in shock.
@langaboards 17m ago
the sunset is so different here #sunset #okinawa
Langa the snowboarder was here? In Okinawa! Why? How insane was that? Is that why he started watching S videos? Does Langa go to S?
It wasn’t a huge jump between snowboarding and skateboarding, so it made sense that Langa could have both skills.
That meant that Reki might have seen Langa before. They might have even met! How insane was that?
Reki started getting really excited. He clicked back on Langa’s page, but this was the first new video posted since the snowboarding video last September. Reki rewatched it and then found himself back down the rabbit hole of rewatching all of Langa’s videos. Once again, he found himself impressed by the skill this sixteen—
Langa had updated his bio:
Langa (he/him) - 17
More like a downgrade, but he had aged up.
So, born between October and April. Hm. Not much of a hint. He was likely in the same class as Reki, or maybe he was a third year already.
Wait. Did Langa live here, in Okinawa, or was he just visiting? Could Langa go to his school?
Reki’s memory failed him when he tried to recall Langa’s last name. Something with an S, he thought? Without the link that led to his snowboarding profile, Reki was at a loss. He’d never paid that much attention to the finer details like that. What if he Googled—
Reki shook his head violently. He was getting way too into this.
And what did it matter anyway? What would Reki even do if he did find out? Approach Langa and say he recognized him from TikTok? As if. That would be insanely creepy. Especially considering Langa had never shown his face.
Langaboards in Okinawa. Reki was feeling off-centered.
Reki needed to step away and think about something else. To reinforce his decision, he left his phone in his room and went out back to the garage to do some work on his next project. He’d ordered those rain-slick tires the other day, and they’d finally come in, but he wasn’t totally happy with them. He wanted to further the grooves, because by eliminating the surface area… he had some theories he really wanted to test.
At least this would be better than the spike-wheel test. Reki shuddered at the memory. That wheel was in the back of his test drawer and he hoped it would never see the light of day again.
He could have thrown it out, but Reki couldn’t quite manage to throw away something he pain-stakingly (emphasis on pain ) created.
Reki flipped open his notebook that was filled with ideas and theories and got to work. He poised his pencil over paper.
Forget Langa. Forget TikTok.
Wheels. Focus on wheels.
…
He couldn’t focus.
Cursing his brain, Reki snagged his board, doubled back for his phone, and then shouted to his mother that he was heading out to skate. The skatepark would probably be empty, with everyone doing S tonight.
He ignored the fleeting thought that perhaps Langa might still be at the skatepark, if the video he’d posted had been shot today.
Before he got far from his house, Reki got the idea that he should go and get the DOPE SKETCH scooter first. Trusting his gut, he took the detour.