Archive of Our Own ^beta

It starts, as with all lore, on a dumb high school question.

“Can you skateboard?” he asks. They’re in the laundry room, changing over loads.

She snorts. “What kind of a question is that, man?”

Kaminari just sounds befuddled. “I mean, I thought all girls who liked the Tony Hawk soundtrack could skate.”

Kyoka snorts again. “Grow up, Jamming-Whey.”

He’s uncharacteristically silent. For a beat, she wonders if she’s offended him.

Instead, she turns and finds him bright red, her bra poking out from his washing.

She thwacks him, and doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the day.

It’s third year, two months to go until graduation, and she finds herself at the skate park.

“So this is how you’ve been grazing your elbows,” she says dryly.

Kaminari starts, and promptly tumbles off his board again. Across the twin grind rails, Dark Shadow howls with laughter as Tokoyami looks forlorn.

“Heyheyhey,” he gabbles as he dusts himself off. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Kyoka gives a shrug. “My lesson with Eri finished early. Thought I’d swing by.”

“Aw, shucks,” he says, gives an exaggerated wink. “I’d have fallen over more if I’d known.”

She snorts. “You dolt.”

“Girl, please, you need to fuck Kaminari.”

Kyoka literally spit-takes, dribbles rioja down her chin. Mina seems entirely undeterred.

“C’mon, you need to do me a solid,” she continues. “If he brings up his board to Eijiro one more time, I think I’m gonna scream.”

“What has that even got to do with me?” she says, frazzled, snatches at the napkin offered by a concerned Asui. 

“Jiro, c’mon,” Mina says, brow furrowed. “That ball of sunshine only wears baggy pants because you haven’t taken them off yet.”

She glares at her, then growls as she dab at her stained top.

Sunset creeps across the horizon, the shadows of Yokohama stretched long across Tokyo Bay.

The breeze laps at her hemlines. Kyoka shivers slightly.

It does not go unnoticed. Kaminari purses his lips.

“Here,” he says, sets his knapsack down and tugs off his hoodie, drapes it across her shoulders. “Don’t need you to catch a cold.”

She stares up at him, the last rays of daylight playing across his face.

“Why do you skate?” she asks, lost in his eyes.

He swallows. “Do you actually want to know?”

Time stands still.

“Not really,” she eventually says, and closes the gap.

“I’m said the Tony Hawk soundtrack was dope for sex,” he says, panting.

She laughs incredulously, winded with satisfaction. “You never said that.”

“Did I not?” he teases, offers her a lavicious wink and massages her breast. A squark of protest escapes her lips, turns into a moan halfway.

“I think I’d have - ahhh - remembered,” she half-stutters.

Denki grins. “Maybe I just blew your mind.”

Kyoka considers him, then flips their bodies so she’s straddling his stomach.

“Bet you can’t do that on a board,” she says smugly.

“No,” he gasps, eyes wide with delight. “Who cares?”

She certainly doesn’t.