Work Text:
🗎🗎🗎
The paper falls from Langa’s backpack like a slipper from Cinderella’s foot and it crosses Ainosuke’s mind, then, that he doesn’t know much of his Eve outside of Crazy Rock. He had his drones, a driver and fleet of tinted cars — but, he can’t sneak much in the way of residential areas without garnering some complaints for the noise… or around school, for risk that such things could be traced back to his office and then to him, personally.
There’s a romance to the enigma, Ainosuke tells himself.
The less he knows of SNOW, the more tantalizing these little morsels.
But, when he smooths the sheet over, bringing it under the car’s interior light, the number 28 makes itself apparent, circled in bright red marker.
And he’s sure this must have been a mistake.
Perhaps it was that red-haired boy’s essay with Langa having taken it to throw away before his parents could see — or that maybe it was a score of 28 with 30 points on the line. But, the characters for Langa’s name are written haphazardly across the top in faded pencil lines, and Ainosuke can’t tell what’s worse: the chicken scratch that was his penmanship or the flagrant lack of effort put into completing a straightforward assignment.
Tadashi’s eyes move from the stretch of road ahead and into the rear-view window. If his dog were any less well-behaved, Ainosuke might have interpreted the motion as a smirk.
“Skateboarding is a distraction,” he says. Ainosuke's arms cross and he settles his body to its side, feeling the rattle through his ear. “I found it difficult at first too, you know. Balancing both.”
“From what I recall sir, your grades were always rather consistent.”
His brow furrows because this is true and denying Tadashi’s memory would be a desecration to the work Ainosuke had put in, even back then, to become the adult he is today. But, it’s just one distinction among many points of similarities between him and SNOW — and this one is a nuance than anything truly, diametrically opposed. SNOW’s intelligence could have manifested in other areas of his schoolwork, if not in writing then perhaps science, math or history. The boy is a prodigy of strategic thinking, someone who thought in quick and successive bursts to see himself to each of his victories down Crazy Rock. He’s cool and unflappable and carries himself with such a refined sense of dignity, and had even saved ADAM from himself, cutting through the bullshit of his mental gymnastics in that final beef and —
“English is his first language.”
Ainosuke ceases his rambling.
“I’ll take responsibility — ”
“Sir. He grew up in Canada”
“I know that.”
“They speak English in Canada.”
Tadashi is given the order to cease his commentary for the night. His silence is also suspicious in its self-satisfaction, but nothing so obviously manifested that Ainosuke can call him out on it.
After the other man bids him adieu for the night, Ainosuke pulls on his pajamas, silk over skin — and his eyes fall over an older part of his bookshelf, where he’d kept his reading materials from all his years in school.
He doesn’t think it needs to be taken that far just yet.
Just the expectations tomorrow.
🗎🗎🗎
Langa’s beautiful eyes move from the paper clenched tight in his fist, and then back to Ainosuke himself. From behind him, the red-haired boy’s standing with his board tucked beneath his arm, a quizzical look for having been stopped by ADAM at Crazy Rock’s gate rather than its peak.
“I thought you were supposed to be good now.”
“...What?”
“You stole my paper.”
“That’s not the point.
“...SN~OW...” He feels Tadashi’s presence from behind him, almost glowing from the boy’s response. “Besides, this is for your own good. ‘Bitter medicine,’ if you will.”
“I don’t understand.”
Blunt. SNOW is only being blunt to keep him honest. It’s a coping mechanism that Ainosuke’s employed as an adult that recognizes bullshit, but won’t make it his problem unless the other person's made it explicit. It’s how he’d gotten his Aunties to make direct requests of him rather than placing him in a position where he’s constantly on egg-shells, making his guesses.
Langa extends his hand, Cinderella reclaiming her missing slipper.
“You can’t skate if your grades keep slipping,” ADAM explains.
“Hey, that’s no fair! Langa’s trying his best.” The tag-along steps in front of Langa, chest puffed-out.
“This extends to any participant of S, still in school. Better, mutt?”
The two look at one another. Having exchanged some unspoken promise, Langa nods and says: “...I accept.”
“Wonderful.”
🗎🗎🗎
His relationship with the prefectural education board had its perks — access to student records, as an example, even if he had to trade a few political endorsements for it.
He scrolls through the line of student photos, the monitor’s light casting a white, ominous glow over his reading glasses. His fingers steeple over the oak desk table and it doesn’t escape Ainosuke that this would be a lot to explain, should anyone walk through the double doors of his office space, and then peer over his shoulder.
Tadashi doesn’t bother knocking and Ainosuke is too distracted to snap at him for it.
“He isn’t very bright, is he?”
Ainosuke adjusts his glasses, but refuses to admit this. His lowest marks are even worse than that first assignment — though, there are several positive notes on his health check: perfect vision, taller and fitter than average. Their blood types were compatible as well.
“Class ranked 32 out of 38. What about his friend?”
Ainosuke scoffs, waving Tadashi off. “Below that, probably…”
But, as he scrolls down for that shock of red hair, he finds himself half-way between shock and increased loathing. Reki Kyan, ranked 14. Top marks in home economics, mathematics and science. Ainosuke’d hovered around that number when he’d started high school, up until he’d found his focus and learned to apply himself properly.
“Sir.”
He waves it off, and rattles off on the list of to-dos for the coming term.
🗎🗎🗎
It's an easy enough process to implement, much to the chagrin of Crazy Rock’s youngest residents: a grade-check that supplements the pin check, entry granted only to those who scored a C and above on their latest assignments. If by the end of the term, they’d failed to maintain that average, they’ll be banned from Crazy Rock so as to spend the next few months at home or in the library, hitting the books in atonement for their misplaced priorities.
It’s a wondrously cool Autumn evening when ADAM makes his way to the gate — the kind of breeze that takes a skater’s breath away once they’ve picked-up speed, striking the chest before it flows past the sides and through their hair.
“It’s for my beef,” SHADOW says, lolling out his tongue.
They ignore him, Tadashi peering into the window of his car before shining a flashlight through it. The tarp stills, a couple of “ssh’s” too loud to count as whispers. Tadashi flings the door open and Ainosuke follows, throwing the cover off in a single motion. He’d guessed that they’d risk it on this night of all nights, cooped up at school, the library and either one of their houses this past month, but.
“You’ll have to try much harder to deceive me, you know…. SNOW…. And ….. Third wheel.”
“It’s Reki.”
Tadashi brings his phone to their faces and reads their scores on ADAM’s cue. Reki has improved his class ranking by two, following midterms. Langa’s score has done nothing for his ranking. It pains ADAM to allow the third-wheel up the slopes without SNOW but, to his begrudging appreciation, Reki gives Langa a playful punch to the arm.
“Next time, for reals.”
“Right.”
“Fantastic… I look forward to it… SN~OW and Re— Third… Wheel.”
It’s more of this, however, because the next time he finds them, they’d decided to go around the gate rather than through it — and then in disguises, cosplay wigs doing little in the way of obfuscating their ages.
His fingers curl over the bright, pink hairpiece as Reki pats Langa’s back, assuring him that they’ll have a sleepover right after their next study session… To which Langa lights up, repeating the word “sleepover?” with so much adoration that ADAM’s gut twists. When they’re out of earshot, Tadashi asks if he’s okay.
He throws the wig to the ground, stepping over it.
“I don’t think they’re actually studying…”
🗎🗎🗎
Ainosuke’s had plenty of experience with this kind of thing, all the way back from when he was Langa and Reki’s age: study sessions that were more like excuses to goof-off — or, in the case of Joe and Cherry, to flirt from over their books. The former rests his feet on the table of the family study, chair balanced precariously on its two hindlegs. The latter has taken to toying with his new mechanical pencil, clicking the lead piece out and then slipping it back in.
His Aunties had given him a look, inviting them to the Shindo manor — to which Ainosuke had returned it with a smile, insisting that it’s to everyone’s benefit that they divide the work required to understand this latest unit. Besides, Sakurayashiki-san’s much smarter than he’s willing to admit, rivaling his own scores in literature and Japanese history. He only dressed that way as a deterrent, coming across as cool and dangerous when he’s really just a nervous wreck of a person.
“You’ll fall if you keep doing that,” he says, twirling the pencil over his index finger.
“Worried that I will, Princess?” Joe extends his legs, the chair wobbling from the sudden movement.
The pencil stops, clenched tight in Cherry’s hand because he is, if he’s being honest with himself.
“It’ll be an inconvenience,” he says, “Dragging your ape body all the way back from where it came.”
“There’s a quote about that. Something like ‘rotten work’?”
Ainosuke stands, taking the back of Joe's chair. “‘Not to me. Not if it’s you.’ Orestes. Are we done here?” There’s some part of him that wants to throw the entire thing down, if only to teach them a lesson in focus. But, he settles down, seeing Tadashi pass by the doorway, straightening himself out before he gets too distracted as well.
The next hour is better, though the looks that Joe passes to Cherry don’t fall beneath his notice — and neither do Cherry’s little huffs of mock-disapproval. He’ll never understand why they bother; still doesn’t understand as an adult, watching them bicker like an old married couple that never bothered tying the knot to make it official.
But, what he does understand is that he’s perfectly capable of being a positive influence for all the trouble he’s wrought in these past few years as S’ founder and premier skater. Joe’s grades leave much-to-be-desired, still, given his focus on culinary school, and Cherry continues to operate from beneath Ainosuke’s standards out of embarrassment for the potential attention; but, their grades improve enough for him to justify substituting one afternoon per week, back in the study.
Presently, Ainosuke returns to the old part of his bookshelf, riffling through the folders, as delineated by subject and year.
Within the binder, he finds the one for 2nd year, high school, Fall term.
🗎🗎🗎
It’s been awhile since they’ve been up Crazy Rock — but, finding alternatives to illegal skateboard racing has been plenty fun when Reki’s able to see Langa in all kinds of different settings. At the shoreline, for example, trying their hands (and faces) at surfing. At the mall the week after, with some extra money from Dope Sketch for a mini-makeover — and then further downtown, with all the new, fancy food stands he’s yet to introduce Langa.
It’s from his explanation of local delicacies that he learns that Langa’s been around Okinawa as long as he has without trying goya… which is surprising, because how else is one to achieve immortality without the champion of health in your diet? Their next stop is at a shop that makes tempura out of it, so it’s a little less bitter for Langa — and, he’s just about to take his hand to lead him the way when.
His reflexes kick in before he’s able to register the force of wind, jumping from the path of a vehicle with all the experience of someone that’s already been hit by a car just like this one.
He corrects himself as the driver steps out: not “like this one.”
The same one.
SNAKE gives a short bow, taking a sticky note from his pocket to read aloud.
“Langa and Third-Wheel. Your absence from S has not gone unnoticed. The grade check was intended as a motivator not a disincentive.”
It’s with so little enthusiasm that he almost finds it funny.
Reki shoves his hands into his school jacket, leaning forward. Langa follows suit, adorably, his expression even cooler and more serious, for how handsome he is. “Don’t blame us for your stupid, backfiring rule. ‘Sides. We already go to school.”
“...Yeah!”
“And now we’re going to the mall.”
“Right!”
Tadashi shrugs and starts his return to the vehicle. Reki thinks he hears a “But, sir, I tried” and “Sir, you’re not in costume…” before the door opens on the passenger’s side, revealing a tall, blue-haired man with bright, red eyes — similar to that of ADAM’s. Except, when he smiles, Reki realizes: they’re not similar either.
They’re the same person.
“You didn’t know? ” whispers Langa.
“What do you mean ‘I didn’t know?’ You knew?”
“Yeah, I see him on TV all the time.”
ADAM gives a sound cough, drawing their attention back on him. “I bore of your games, SNOW. Third-wheel. Starting today, your education is in my hands.”
Langa nods before Reki can react, walking himself into the other passenger’s seat. “Langa!”
“But, Reki…
"What if ADAM is really smart and can help us, Reki. We can skate.”
That stupid, dopey face does him in.
But.
Reki makes it a point to sit between ADAM and Langa, just so there’s no funny business while he’s around to keep watch. When the door shuts, he spreads his legs and slouches. Langa rests his head to Reki’s shoulder, and ADAM goes over this afternoon’s itinerary, his voice thin with impatience. No one’s winning here aside from Langa — which Reki thinks is okay because it’s not as fun as tempura goya, but it never hurts to try a little harder here and there. Dad’s always said that effort will never betray you.
Tonight’s just a run-through of their schedule for the rest of the term: where they’re at and what’ll take to get them to the next level. He doesn’t bother correcting ADAM, because he’s always done plenty fine in school — committing just enough to have Mom, Dad and Granny beam at him with pride. It’s also more than the minimum to grant him entry to S, anyways, if he had the heart to leave Langa behind.
The other boy’s giving ADAM the same level of care and respect as their sensei. He nudges his shoulder up, urging Langa’s focus back. But, finding that his mind’s gone somewhere else altogether, Reki figures he might as well speak on their behalf.
“How long are you going to keep us, anyways?”
“Until dinner — cram school hours, if you will.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And, I’ll request your attendance once a week, until your grades are to my satisfaction.”
“And, if we refuse?
The pause is long enough that Reki’s almost sure ADAM hadn’t thought this far. It’s not like he can ban them from illegal skateboard racing anymore than they’ve already been banned. But, his recovery puts Reki back on edge, seated up to attention. “You misunderstand me, Reki. There’s greater reason to care for your grades beyond a little skating.
Think long-term, rather than short-term.”
Ah. Right.
Their future.
He shrugs at that, but acquiesces. “Ok, fine. I get it.”
Reki thinks he hears “I knew you would” but ADAM’s already turned to the window before Reki can be sure of it.
🗎🗎🗎
They drive up a less familiar part of Okinawa where the houses are further apart, separated by thick, brick walls and spindly, ivy foliage. It reminds Reki of the old shoujo manga he’d read alongside Koyomi for all the drama of their austere, Western-style silhouettes — the kind of homes from which school princes and princesses hosted tea parties to the quiver of elegant violins.
He tries not to gawk so much as they’re led out, tries not to let it get to him that Langa’s accidentally playing his part, offering his arm for Reki to lean up against.
‘You’ll get lost if you’re not careful.’
‘T-thanks…’
Their group is led around an empty pool, past a shed, and through the backway and kitchenette where their study room and afternoon snacks await them.
In their own study sessions, Langa had insisted they stay over at Reki’s place over Langa’s because Reki’s place is so much more interesting than his — like a shrine, as he’d described it. Now that they’re sitting at the oak table, reading materials spread all around them, he realizes Langa’s complete lack of interest. It’s a beautiful space, the sun coming through the window in dappled spots, and a clear view of the empty pool from which they sit. But, probably the kind of thing Langa’s seen all the time, back in Canada.
He’d probably be more excited once Reki points out that the pool’s the perfect place to skate if you avoided the stairs.
Reki withholds the comment though, twirling his pencil between his index and middle finger as Langa leans himself back.
“Conic sections,” ADAM starts. “The chapter test is next week, is it not?”
“Graphing parabolas,” Reki corrects him. Easy enough, albeit boring for how quickly he’d picked it up.
“Conic sections. Parabolas are within the same family alongside circles, ellipses and hyperbolas.”
Reki tilts his head. That sounds a little further down in their books, and it’s kinda weird that ADAM’s making this more difficult than he needs to. The man takes a sheet before Reki can point this out, drawing the diagram for their reference.
Two cones—nappes— joined at their points in pencil. A section, cut horizontally, a circle. A section, cut at an angle, meeting both lines, an ellipse. A section, cut vertically, a hyperbola. Then, the last section, cut at another angle, but just meeting one line, a parabola.
“All parabolas are ellipses whereupon the focal point is at infinity. To say you’re graphing a parabola is an inaccuracy. Rather, you’re transposing Cartesian planes on the same shape, ad nauseum.”
He doesn’t get it, but Reki isn’t about to lose his grasp on something he’d thought he’d mastered a couple of days ago. The pencil stops and he takes the paper, studying it up-close and then afar.
“If this is too difficult, Third Wheel…”
His head shakes after a pause, the paper settling back in place, albeit at a different angle.
“…
“…No. I can kinda see what you’re saying.”
“…What?”
His explanation is clumsy, babbling on and on about looking at it like a magnifying glass, graphs just displaying zoom-ins and zoom-outs. How it only looks like the arms are getting closer or bigger, but it’s just a matter of perspective, right? He draws it a bunch of times because, maybe there’s a better word for it and it’s escaping him and if he keeps talking, he’ll get to it eventually.
“Scale factor.”
When ADAM writes out the formulas, he circles the variable ‘a’ within y = ax^2.
“‘A’ represents scale factor, not shape, as you were trying to say.”
They end up expanding on the concept of parabolas, proving ADAM’s point via formulas to complete Reki’s understanding. This same principle applies in physics as a foundation for mapping trajectories, both on Earth and as objects in space, bound by gravitational pulls. They move onto its uses in engineering too: the concept of “collimated” beams, and how parabolas in real-life will focus light and sound and other waves to the focal point so long as it runs parallel to the axis of symmetry.
And, Reki doesn’t realize how much he’s spoken until he realizes all the snacks are gone, and SNAKE returns with a knock at the doorway and a finger to his watch.
As they walk the rest of the way, he apologizes to Langa for getting so caught up in this kind of stuff because he hadn’t expected their study session to go so late. Langa shakes his head, his eyes reflecting the stars shining above their heads.
“I knew you were smart, Reki, but that was amazing! You and ADAM were talking so much and so fast, my head was spinning, just trying to keep up!”
“S-sorry— this is more for you than it was for me. I can explain it though…”
Langa nods and they spend the rest of the night, playing with fingerboards and flashlights at the shop until Langa’s just as excited as Reki’d been, making that initial connection.
🗎🗎🗎
Most of the test is as straight-forward as how he’d first understood the chapter; but, Reki’s the only one aside from their class representative to have answered the bonus question correctly, predicting the distance from which a baseball will travel should the pitcher throw it as X angle with so and such force and air-drag of so and such factor.
“Good-work Kyan-san,” the other boy says stiffly, adjusting his glasses. “I see you’d read ahead, as well.”
Reki avoids his eyes, alongside the stares of the rest of their classmates.
“T-thanks.”
Again, he’s never been one to apply himself at school nor doing much of anything to deserve so much attention. But, Langa jumps to his defense when a boy the next desk over insinuates that he must’ve somehow cheated— or that this was just a fluke because his skateboard fixation’s finally proven itself useful this one time. “Reki’s been studying all week,” he says, brandishing his test.
“He’s been helping me too.”
A mark of 52. His highest yet.
“Aw, jeez… It was just a really interesting topic, is all.”
“Parabolas? Really?”
“…I guess.”
But, ADAM has a way of contextualizing the things they learn in class, connecting dots in practical ways that Reki can’t help but research after, and then explain right back to Langa when he asks about it. Parallel events in history, as an example — things that appear as disparate eras actually happening all at once in different parts of the world. Chemistry. Physics. Japanese literature.
Their grades improve; not as much for Langa to make his return to S, but enough that it even draws the attention of their sensei as well, relieved to finally see Reki apply the potential he’s always seen in him.
Reki nods, awkwardly, shaking his hand as he extends it afterclass.
“You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, Kyan-kun. A bright future.”
“…Thank you, sir.”
🗎🗎🗎
It goes so well for so long that it’s to Ainosuke’s surprise that Reki’s eyes avoid his own, presenting his latest language review alongside Langa’s.
Ainosuke bites back the reflex to interrogate him — because it isn’t bad, better than the English-speaker’s 45.
…But, it also isn’t good either.
He corrects Reki’s tense and explains yet again the difference between present-progressive and present-perfect — but, he finds it harder and harder to believe that he isn’t faking it for the same stupid reason Cherry had. That it’s embarrassing for the leader of a gang to also be an honor’s student because adults are supposed to respect him , not the other way around. That it’s uncool for a skater to enjoy “nerd shit” like reading and math.
He motions for Reki’s pencil, taking that habit from Reki in a way he’d always wanted with Cherry. Without it, those hands recede from under the table. Langa reaches for his hand, but he’ll have no more distractions — not when Ainosuke’s gone through the trouble once before. He knocks on the table, bringing their attention back to the practice test.
“The scientific history of radium ___ beautiful.”
“...is…?”
“Why?”
“...Uh…”
“A statement of quality for one object. Present simple.
‘And in that way it has been proved that the radioactive elements are constantly ___ and that they produce at the end ordinary elements, principally helium and lead.’”
Langa makes to speak.
Ainosuke almost shuts him up.
It’s a confusing reflex that he doesn’t linger over, allowing him to take the bone for how little he speaks during their sessions. “Disintegrating.”
“Tense?”
“Uh… Progressive.”
“Yes.” The page turns.
“...Next question is for Kyan. ‘Radium is no more a baby but the conditions of the discovery were somewhat peculiar, and so it is always of interest ___ them and to explain them.’”
Reki doesn’t lean forward as he usually does, can’t even lift his gaze from the exercise book for how timidly his eyes go over his choices. “‘To have remembered them.’”
“No. ‘To remember.’ The infinite, given the word ‘always’ and to structurally parallel ‘to explain.’”
It’s more of this up until Tadashi leads them from the study: Reki weaker and smaller than how they’d arrived, and Langa more or less the same. But, there’s no satisfaction this time, in putting a third wheel in his place, just a strange, almost sour kind of disappointment, distinct from the one he’d had of SNOW.
His former-EVE is just a pretty face with a poet’s disposition — a product of his own projection. It’s natural to expect some semblance of intelligence, for how they’d skated together that last beef. But, he’d accepted it with grace after these months of studying, and also because he isn’t above admitting when he’s wrong.
Reki, on the other hand, has proven himself more tolerable than Ainosuke’s initial impressions. Unrefined and uncouth, but also quick to pick up on a concept and run with it once the groundwork’s been laid. Ainosuke knows Reki’s better than this, because he’s seen it first-hand.
Tadashi finds Ainosuke at the pool, dangling a pair of long, powerful legs over its ledge. He joins him once Ainosuke makes the motion — albeit gingerly, and into a tentative crouch.
“How were they?”
“Sir?”
“You heard me.”
“They’ll be back,” he says. “Kyan-san promised.”
“Good.
"…Hey. Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what, sir?”
“Like I’m some kind of fool, jingling miserably after a couple of teenagers, almost half my age.”
“Okay.”
“...I don’t like that either.”
“Then, what would you like, sir?”
Ainosuke sprawls himself back, kicking his legs up. “I don’t know. Whatever’s on your mind.”
“Well, I think it’s cute that you’re caring this much, sir. And, it isn’t a bad thing, saying something like that outloud.”
He turns himself away. Though Tadashi doesn’t excuse himself as much as he used to, taking his opportunity to relish in the silence between them, the same as when they were little, sitting in this same spot to enjoy a study break on some nameless Autumn day.
🗎🗎🗎
He’d anticipated that Reki and Langa would avoid him eventually though, and their latest test scores present the perfect opportunity. The latter opts for a “sick week” so that the former can take a breather — regaining some iota of confidence before they return to Ainosuke’s study to face him together.
Tadashi rolls up from behind the boy because Ainosuke can’t wait that long.
The window cracks open and Reki crosses his arms.
“Last I checked, the tutoring’s for Langa, not for me.”
“This isn’t about skateboarding. We established this, had we not?”
Tadashi follows the boy for a block until he shrugs, entering from the opposite passenger’s side.
“Don’t know why you keep pushing me.” His school bag is thrown between him.
Again, a 71 isn’t bad — so, ADAM isn’t sure either. There’s plenty of justification, but when Tadashi’s eyes meet his own in the rearview mirror, he can’t bring himself to say any of that. “I’m the teacher,” he says, tucking his hand into his palm. “It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
“Alright.”
It’s a lot quieter when it’s just them. Strange how people will have that effect on others, bringing out traits otherwise unseen when they’re alone. Around Langa, Reki’s entire face lights up, the sheer force of his affection coming through in how he clings to the other boy’s arm, voice high and breathy as he tells him about everything and nothing all at once — and Langa nods back, just happy to be included in these thoughts. Again, Reki’s weirdly observant for someone he’s always seen as noisy — those eyes going over the houses when there’s nothing left of their conversation.
Ainosuke does the same, peering past the ghost of his own reflection.
A little after that year spent studying with Tadashi, his parents introduced him to his Aunties because they’d put their own sons and daughters through big, important schools all over the world. Tokyo University, but also Cambridge, Yale and Ludwig-Maximilians — and they’ll do the same with Ainosuke, if his parents will allow them.
Ainosuke remembers, briefly, how much he’d hated car rides, because he’d known what was at the other end of them.
The wheels crunch over grout as Ainosuke dismisses the memory, breaking a pose he’d found too familiar for comfort.
“We’ll review tenses,” he says, closing his side of the door.
“My favorite.”
🗎🗎🗎
He spreads Reki’s essay across the table, Reki leaning over the table to avoid the weight of his judgment. Ainosuke has a lot to say and has never been one to mince words. “Surprised that your score’s as high as it is, honestly speaking. I would’ve docked another point here.
"...Here
"...and here.”
“Ah.”
Reki stops and then starts again, unsure of how to answer for himself as Ainosuke continues with his red marker. At the top he circles the number 64 and crosses his arms, cooly, eyebrow raised.
“I’m not upset,” he says. “Just disappointed.”
“...That I suck at English?”
“That you’re pretending to suck at English, to the degree that you’d risk a non-passing grade over whatever stupid game you’re playing.”
“I… Huh? Why would I do that?”
“...What?”
“You… you seriously think that I want to be bad at something?”
“I wouldn’t put it above you. Is it because it’s uncool?
"Or, maybe it’s the attention that’s gotten to you. Too much spotlight, and now you’re feeling the pressure and getting cold feet over it.”
Ainosuke strikes a nerve with that but not in a way he’d intended.
Reki takes his bag and starts packing. Ainosuke doesn’t have it in him to apologize though in the heat of the moment he knows he should.
“...That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I’m not trying anything. Sometimes people suck at things no matter how hard they try. Though, I get it if you don’t. When. You know.” He motions his free hand over the mess of papers, as well as the walls and walls of books all around them. “So, it’s okay, really.
“It blows to teach someone stupid. I’ll figure it out myself.”
“...No. Wait.”
“What?”
“You’re not stupid — and I… Don’t… mind…. Going slower… Now that I know.”
“...Okay.”
🗎🗎🗎
The blood returns to Reki’s face as Ainosuke keeps his promise, starting with the basic explanation: that the infinite is the basic form of any verb and that conjugation allows the reader to understand the passage of time. Simple tenses show actions or states of being at a point of time: past, present and future. Perfect tenses refer to completed actions and progressive refers to actions that are continuing to happen — again, past, present or future. Perfect progressive combines both completed and progressive, referring to an action that is, was or will be continuing.
Reki draws it out as little animated figures within the three by four chart of the twelve English tenses, nodding along as Ainosuke explains it. It’s really pretty good, now that Ainosuke’s looking more closely. He’d only seen a few of the drawings peeking out from his binder: a blueprint here, some graffiti designs there.
He takes his own pencil, adding lines and graphic stars to better illustrate the notion of progressive versus perfect.
Reki blinks up at this, more surprised by the confidence of his pencil strokes than the change of pace.
“Hey. I didn’t know you could draw too…?”
“Oh, I used to dabble,” he says, idly adding another panel. He’s rustier than he’s ever been, but it’s good enough that Reki’s eyes widen. “Tell me what’s happening here.”
“The dog has been skateboarding all-day.”
“Yes.”
“...Do you have any more?”
Ainosuke’s grip tightens, lightly, and he doesn’t recover fast enough for Reki not to notice. He quickly doodles another dog. “I don’t. I threw them out when I moved for college.”
“Oh. Well, okay then. Uhh… ‘The dog woke-up earlier.’ For this one.”
“Good.”
🗎🗎🗎
Ainosuke doesn’t know why he lied about it, because it’s not like it would have mattered if he knew. He’s staring out the window of his study after Reki’s left, a small skip to his step as he follows Tadashi to the car — still staring out of it, even after they’re long gone.
From behind, there’s the memory of himself during his first study session, a sheet of his very best drawings, all crumpled up in his eldest Auntie’s fist.
It isn’t like he’d wanted to be an artist. Everyone’s always told him that there’s no money in it, and the Shindo’s can never be without money. But, he’d cried as all three of them tear through his bag, riffling through each of his notebooks, page by page, and shaming him for wasting the time and effort on such trivialities... even if art isn’t in his future. Or, maybe especially that it isn’t.
It’s a heavy memory, but he’s been better about shying away from them.
He turns to clear the table, returning the books to their places on the shelves.
It’s deeper than that, probably.
A quiet dread, low and deep. The existential despair of having that he’s come so close to embodying the kind of adults they were — projecting forward those same expectations he’d endeavored himself to accept as good and justified.
In spite of hating it.
In spite of always hating it.
🗎🗎🗎
It’s to Reki’s surprise that ADAM doesn’t believe him that Langa is sick, actually. Turns out you can get real sick from eating too much goya — especially when you’re not used to so much of it in one sitting. But, ADAM has a funny way of thinking that lends himself to weird ideas about other people, which Reki guesses happens, when you’re cooped up indoors all day, doing whatever politicians did in their offices.
He’s glad to have cleared the air though.
Glad to see sensei’s relief when his scores pick back up, that 71-that-was-actually-a-64 rounding itself out to an even 90. Glad that the student rep keeps talking to him about a possible study date when Reki’s got a free weekend… That Langa’s grades have improved so much once Reki’s back to explaining stuff to him by his bedside — and that it’s only a matter of time before their completely authorized, 100% legal return to Crazy Rock.
They stop at the pool that’s caught Reki’s attention since the start of all this. ADAM makes a motion to Tadashi who brings forward his board.
“Thought you’d want to try for another 10 points.”
“Oh, I will,” he says. He whips himself around the bowl, sticking a clean landing to the other side.
It’s surreal, seeing ADAM’s skateboarding on someone dressed decidedly un-ADAM-like — and this close, as well. “But, a 90 is good.
"We’ll call it a break until SNOW’s stomach sorts itself out.”
“Yeah. Okay. We can do that”
There’s no comment on his form this time — the optimal way to place his legs, how he can better distribute his weight to maximize air time. Just the sound of rolling wheels underfoot, the undersides of either his board or ADAM’s striking the pool’s edge. There’s a heavy whoosh whenever they pass one another, around the bowl and across it, and his mouth almost hurts from smiling because he’s always envisioned skating against ADAM all over again, not alongside him... Even if they’re not talking all that much in the hours that pass.
The sky’s painted with red and orange streaks by the time SNAKE makes his presence known, the signal to the end of a productive study session.
“The ‘S’ pin,” he says, returning his rig to SNAKE’s waiting arms. “I drew that.”
“...What?”
“My costume. The under-side of this thing. Those as well.”
“That’s so sick!!! The line quality is the same across all of them, so I always knew they’d be by the same artist — but, wow. Damn.”
He almost looks embarrassed to have admitted so much — and, even more so, as he pushes himself to complete the admission. “...I’ve been meaning to have the pin redone for some time now. A bit of rebranding, now that we’ve gone a decade or so, using something I’d come up with when I was your age.
"… Only fitting, no?”
“Wait. Me?”
ADAM doesn’t answer that, making a simple motion with his hand to confirm yes, him — and no, he wasn’t just hearing things.
When ADAM’s halfway back to the house, Reki breaks through the shock of having learned one cool-thing-about-ADAM after another, after having skated with him all afternoon. He cups his hands around his mouth and calls after him.
“I’ll do my best!”
“Won’t expect any less,” comes the call right back.
🗎🗎🗎
Langa lifts his assignment up with flourish, eyes meeting the guard-slash-grade-checker as he checks his and Reki’s faces alongside his screen, as well as their shiny, new pins.
A nod of approval — a confirmed 70 and 100 respectively.
Langa’d recognized Reki’s handiwork immediately, going on and on about how right ADAM was for finally seeing what Langa’s seen in him all along: smart and cool and good at everything he’s ever put his mind to… Not to mention, the best teacher ever, both at skating and at school.
Reki pushes his hand into Langa’s stupid, dopey face, but doesn’t stop him when he kisses his way out of it and back into his space, continuing along his line of sweet-nothings.
“Took you guys long enough,” comes a familiar voice. Joe. “Heard that ADAM’s been tutoring you. Awful, isn’t it?”
“I’m surprised he even let you out here, for how… passionate he gets,” Cherry adds, skidding into his stop. They each wear the new design, though Reki doesn’t have the heart to comment on it without the bottom of his stomach giving out.
“He’s trying real hard at this whole ‘being a good guy’ thing. Even if he started off kinda weird about it.
"I think it all worked out in the end.”
"Yeah, sure."
“If you say so.”
🗎🗎🗎
( From his office, where no one can see him smile, Ainosuke places Reki’s concept page alongside his report card. There’s a part of him that wonders if he should have Tadashi purchase a mini-refrigerator and magnets to display it properly — or maybe, just a nice glass frame to hang it up where everyone can see.
He settles on just smoothing it over for now though, admiring both things from beneath the spotlight of his task lamp: a neat row of A’s and B’s alongside a sketch of a bolder, track-inspired version of the old S pin, set to the backdrop of a cartoon mountain and the Okinawan surfside. )