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Boyz Sunshine

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                “Heads up!”

                That’s… definitely not the right thing to say, Saburo complains, but not out loud because it’ll be a waste of breath; Jiro’s never been the type to wait around once he’s decided. Jiro ought to be thankful that Saburo’s a quick thinker—and that Saburo’s attuned to the way he moves—because then Saburo knows to duck instead of straightening up like Jiro had carelessly yelled at him to. He bends as far forward as he can, not bothering to cover his head with his hands, only muttering uselessly about how he’s not one of his delinquent friends that he can play around with like this. He cooperates anyway, though, since it’s not like coordination with Jiro is a chore when he’s so, so easy to read.

                “Here I go!” Jiro shouts with a cackle, with pride Saburo supposes he has way too much of for small things like this, though Jiro’s pretty much earned it along with Saburo’s full attention as intended. Saburo intently listens to Jiro kick off of the edge of his side of the cement block they were posing on, listens to the swiiiisshhhh of Jiro’s clothes as he jumps.

                Once Saburo’s observed that Jiro’s past him by his shadow on the ground, he lifts his head to find Jiro still mid-air, and he gets the urge to mock him for being such a show-off, for having kicked much harder than he needed to, for having jumped much higher than he has to— okay, dumbass Jiro, we get it, you do parkour— but  when he opens his mouth to say that, his breath catches in his throat.

                Because the longer Saburo looks at Jiro the less he feels like calling him out; one of Jiro’s legs are straight ahead of him, foot pointed at his target landing spot, and the other is bent, ready to cushion his fall when he gets there. Fluttering in his tailwind now is the blue checkered flannel he has tied around his waist, and though Saburo’s made fun of him several times for boasting about it like it’s something so damn special, with it and with candid amazement Saburo thinks: Jiro really does look like he’s flying.

                Jiro feels like he’s flying. One arm stretched out like a wing, the other bent so he can hold his cap to his head by the brim, the can badges pinned to the corner of his shirt making a satisfying clinking noise behind him, Jiro feels a quick surge of something akin to freedom, one only flight can afford, because in this stupid era there’s honestly nothing like taking off like this. Even if Saburo makes fun of him for it, he won’t stop wearing long-sleeved shirts around his waist— Saburo can go the rest of his life not getting it for all Jiro cares. Or whatever...

                Though when Jiro deftly rolls forward for the sake of his momentum after making it down, he catches Saburo watching him with wide eyes, a sparkle in them that he only reserves for when he learns something new, or for games that excite him, or for Ichi-nii—

                “—Me too!” Ichiro announces in the middle of that thought, of this scene, and Saburo has an excuse to look away when Jiro’s eyes meet his. “Heads up!”

                Things are moving way too fast, but Saburo watches Ichiro’s hypnosis mic pixelate back into a regular-looking microphone after he switches it off and tosses it to him; he catches it dutifully before ducking again, making way for Ichi-nii like he always does, like he’s used to, again without covering his head for padding because really the only risk in a stunt like this is crashing into Aohitsugi Samatoki— and none of the three of them would turn down the chance to see high and mighty Aohitsugi Samatoki-sama face-planting into dirt after coming down from his throne of old rubber tires.

                As expected though, Ichiro sticks his landing perfectly, the exact same way Jiro did, with a showy, exaggerated (but admittedly sick) roll, not without treating his little brothers to the sight of his utter coolness, signature jacket catching wind like a cape behind him— he’s Jiro and Saburo’s superhero, after all.

                Saburo simpers to himself when Samatoki growls at the two of them for almost crashing into him: the guy’ll get over it. Saburo simply gets on his feet and dusts himself off, joining Ichiro and Jiro.

                Saburo leans into Ichiro after praising him, slaps Jiro away after cursing him. Though, all the same, he revels in the sentiment that both his big brothers truly are the coolest.