Chapter Text
The top of the mountain was louder than usual.
Which was saying something.
Music blasted from somebody’s speaker near the ramps. Engines idled farther back where people had parked however they wanted because rules at S were mostly theoretical. Someone yelled over a bet. Another guy was already challenging another skater to a beef.
Normal.
Mostly.
Reki adjusted his headband absently while scanning the crowd.
“…Did everybody decide to show up tonight or something?”
“There does seem to be more people than usual,” Langa said as he approached.
“You're late.”
“Sorry,” Langa apologized before wrapping one arm around his waist, skateboard balanced in his other hand.
“Mom made me take the trash out first.”
Reki snorted.
“You’re late because you had to take the trash out?”
“It ripped.”
Reki immediately groaned.
“Of course it did.”
Langa nodded once.
“Halfway down the driveway.”
“You managed to get that far?”
Langa nodded again.
“And I didn’t notice.”
Reki laughed.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Because yeah.
That tracked.
Far too easily.
He could practically picture it.
Langa dragging the bag behind him without paying attention, completely lost in thought. The bottom splitting open somewhere along the way while cans, wrappers, and whatever else slowly scattered across the pavement behind him.
Meanwhile Langa just kept walking.
Completely unaware.
Only to reach the bin, lift the bag—
and realize it weighed absolutely nothing.
Langa frowned slightly.
“…Mom was not happy.”
Reki laughed harder.
“Yeah. I bet.”
“Reki. Your boyfriend is a certified idiot,” Miya stated without even looking up from whatever he was watching on his phone.
“I invoke the right to remain silent.”
Langa blinked.
“Why would you do that?”
Miya busted up laughing.
“I rest my case.”
“Langa…..” Reki groaned.
“What?” he asked innocently, his grasp around his waist tightening.
Why did he always have to walk right into that?
Reki sighed and shook his head.
“Anyway,” Miya said after finally getting his laughing under control.
“Have you seen this?”
“Seen what?” Reki asked.
Miya shoved his phone in front of their faces and pressed play.
The footage was shaky immediately.
Somebody filming from across a crowded street.
Car horns blared in the background.
People were shouting.
The camera jerked wildly before settling on a man sprawled on the pavement.
“Oh. Is this one of those fight videos?” Reki asked.
“Just watch.”
The person filming zoomed in.
The man on the ground wasn't alone.
Someone was crouched over him.
At first it looked like they were helping.
Then the camera shifted.
The crowd around them was backing away.
Quick.
Nobody was stepping in.
Nobody was getting closer.
A woman screamed somewhere off camera.
The person filming swore.
The man on top suddenly jerked upright.
Blood covered the lower half of his face.
“What the hell?” Reki muttered.
The camera shook again.
The person on the ground wasn't moving.
Meanwhile the other man staggered to his feet.
Unsteady.
Like he couldn't quite decide where he was looking.
Then he lunged toward the person holding the camera.
“OH FUCK!”
The phone dropped.
The image spun wildly before the screen went black.
“That had to be a trailer for a zombie movie, right?” Reki asked.
“Nah. Authorities said the dude was on some new street drug,” Miya replied.
“That's some nasty drug.”
“Right?”
Langa frowned slightly.
“But... Why wasn't anybody helping?”
“Because if some random guy starts eating people, I'm leaving too,” Miya said.
“Oh.”
A pause.
“If somebody tries to eat your face, Reki, I'll protect you.”
Miya stared.
“Again. Your boyfriend is an idiot.”
Yeah.
Reki had to agree with him on that one.
“Langa. If somebody tries to eat my face, run.”
Langa pouted.
“But—”
Whatever rebuttal he was about to offer got lost beneath a fresh wave of arguing from somewhere behind them.
“No, because that turn was bullshit—”
“It wasn’t bullshit. Joe always does that—”
“Adam nearly took him out!”
“Yeah? And?”
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Your morals are wack!”
Laughter followed immediately.
Reki glanced toward the source of the argument.
Apparently people were still dissecting Joe and Adam's race.
Arguments about races that had already ended were normal.
Half the appeal of S was people retelling near-death experiences like sports commentary.
Reki grinned despite himself while adjusting one of his gloves.
“…They’re still talking about it.”
Miya snorted, his attention already back on his phone.
“Old people doing old people shit.”
“They’re not old.”
“You’re right. They’re ancient.”
The sigh came from Kaoru, who finally looked up from whatever he had been calibrating on his board.
Long suffering.
Expected.
Langa shifted beside him, shoulder bumping his as his attention turned toward Kaoru.
“Twenty-five is not ancient,” he informed Miya.
“It is if you're fourteen.”
“If twenty-five is ancient, what are your parents?”
“Prehistoric.”
Reki would have doubled over at that response if Langa wasn’t still holding onto his waist.
Ridiculous.
Kaoru sighed again.
Annoyed.
Reki glanced at his boyfriend.
Langa wasn’t laughing.
Come on, that was hilarious.
Even he would have found that funny.
Then he noticed Langa wasn't looking at Miya, Kaoru, or even him. His attention was fixed somewhere in the crowd, a faint crease appearing between his brows.
“Langa?”
He blinked once before looking back.
“What?”
“Are we that boring?”
“Oh. No. I thought I—”
Someone shoved past them—hard.
Enough that Langa stumbled into him.
“Yo! Watch where the hell you’re going!” Reki shouted after him.
The guy didn't even acknowledge it.
“Rude much,” Miya huffed.
“Right? Like damn.”
Reki shook his head before looking back at Langa.
“You good?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyway. You were saying?”
Langa glanced toward the crowd again.
“I thought I saw—”
A scream cut briefly across the mountain.
Reki pinched the bridge of his nose.
Really? Was Langa not allowed to finish?
He looked toward the source of the noise.
Near the edge of the crowd, someone stumbled and crashed into another person, nearly taking them both to the ground.
A few people glanced over.
“…Seriously?” somebody muttered nearby.
“Probably drunk.”
Another voice snorted.
“Or heatstroke.”
That seemed to satisfy most people.
Because weird behavior at S barely registered most nights.
…
Wait.
Was that the same guy that had just shoved past them?
“You spacing out, loser?”
He blinked.
Kazu stood a few feet away now, board under one arm.
Reki straightened automatically and scoffed.
“A loser? Takes one to know one.”
Reki narrowed his gaze.
Kazu looked off.
His expression was harder to read than usual, eyes slightly unfocused for a second before sharpening again.
Maybe he was tired?
Probably.
Or intoxicated?
Could be.
High?
Nah. No way.
Then:
“You wanna race or not?”
Simple.
Direct.
Reki’s thoughts derailed immediately and he grinned.
Because of course he did.
Always.
“Hell yeah I do!”
Kazu’s mouth twitched slightly.
Not really a smile.
Close enough.
Beside him—
“…Reki.”
Langa.
That tone.
The one that meant:
Slow down for two seconds and use your brain.
Reki looked at him.
“What?”
Langa frowned faintly.
Not at him.
Past him.
Toward Kazu maybe.
Or the crowd—again.
Hard to tell.
“…Be careful.”
Reki stared.
Then laughed.
Because—
“Huh? Since when am I not careful?”
Three separate people made noises of disbelief.
Miya looked personally offended.
“You literally break bones recreationally.”
“That was ONE—”
“It was multiple times,” Kaoru cut in.
Rude.
Reki opened his mouth to argue and got interrupted when Langa tugged him closer by the waist.
Fast.
Familiar.
Then Langa kissed him.
Not dramatic.
Not lingering enough to be annoying.
Just—
Direct.
Casual in the way people only got after a while.
Reki stared at him for half a second after.
“…Seriously?”
Langa’s expression didn’t change.
Miya made a noise of actual suffering.
Hand over his face immediately.
“Oh my god. Disgusting.”
Reki barked out a laugh.
“What’s your problem?”
“My problem is I came here to watch people almost die on skateboards, not…” Miya gestured vaguely between them. “Whatever gross old couple shit this is.”
“We’re not old.”
“You’re emotionally old.”
Langa looked entirely unbothered.
Which somehow made Miya more irritated.
“…I hate both of you.”
“No you don’t,” Reki argued.
“I absolutely do.”
“You’d cry if we disappeared.”
“I’d celebrate.”
Liar.
“Anyway, you're just jealous because nobody likes you.”
“I’d rather die.”
“Drama queen.”
“Shut up and go lose.”
“As if I would lose to Kazu.”
Reki stuck his tongue out automatically before stomping on one edge of his board, popping it up to catch it in his hand.
Easy.
“Langa.”
“Hmmm.”
“Are you going to let go?”
His arm tightened around his waist in response.
“Langa.”
“I'm thinking about it.”
“You're literally holding me hostage.”
“Only a little.”
Langa glanced toward the starting line, then back at him as though he were genuinely considering whether the race was actually necessary.
“God, you two are insufferable,” Miya complained.
“I am inclined to agree this time,” Kaoru added.
“Wow. That, like, never happens,” Reki said, surprised.
“Did you hear that, Langa?”
“...”
“Are we racing or not!?” Kazu shouted from the line.
Oh right.
Race.
“Langa.”
For a moment his boyfriend didn't do anything.
Then he finally released him.
“Good job, Langa,” Reki teased.
Then he laughed before ducking in to kiss him quickly.
Langa’s breath hitched.
Such a simple dumbass to please.
His dumbass.
He shook his head before taking his spot at the starting line.
The crowd shifted around them, excited for a new beef.
People jockeyed for better viewing spots.
Bets changed hands.
Engines revved nearby, mixing with the pulse of music and distant shouting.
Reki’s attention drifted briefly over the crowd before settling on his friends.
Kaoru looked like he was performing advanced calculations on race outcomes.
He probably was.
Miya was pretending not to be interested.
And Langa—
Damn it.
Why did he look like a sad puppy that had just been abandoned on the side of the road?
Honestly.
“Langa. When I win, treat me to Shio Ramen.”
Langa blinked.
“But I’m broke, Reki.”
Reki laughed.
“Right. Then I will make poutine for you.”
Langa’s eyes widened.
“Are you trying to give him food poisoning?” Miya suddenly said.
“Excuse you, twerp. I actually make decent poutine. Or… as close as you can get in Japan.”
Langa nodded in agreement.
Miya rolled his eyes.
“Whatever, slime. Are you going to keep flirting with your boyfriend or actually race?”
Yes.
Race.
Now.
Everything else later.
His pulse had already picked up.
Not nerves.
Excitement.
Next to him, Kazu adjusted his stance.
His shoulders looked tighter.
Too rigid maybe.
Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt despite the breeze higher up the mountain.
His breathing sounded heavier too.
Kind of weird for someone about to beef.
Reki tilted his head slightly.
“…You good?”
Kazu’s eyes flicked toward him.
Half a second too slow.
“What?”
His voice sounded rough.
Not completely unusual.
Plenty of people came to S exhausted.
Hungover.
Half dead from work.
Still felt off.
But priorities.
Race.
Reki grinned.
“You look like shit.”
Kazu laughed.
Briefly.
“You racing or talking?”
There it was.
More familiar.
Reki snorted immediately.
“Hah? In a hurry to lose?”
No answer.
Just Kazu looking at him.
Long enough that something uncomfortable crawled briefly down the back of his neck.
Kazu’s gaze shifted toward the start light.
Reki followed automatically.
The traffic signal hung above the course.
Four red lights.
Waiting.
The first illuminated.
Ding.
The crowd noise dipped slightly.
The second.
Ding.
Reki adjusted his grip on his board.
The third.
Ding.
His pulse kicked harder.
The fourth.
Ding.
Beside him, Kazu went still.
The fourth red light illuminated.
Ding.
His grin widened automatically.
There.
That feeling.
The one that kept dragging him back every time.
Then—
Green.
Reki lunged forward instantly.
His board caught beneath his feet mid-jump.
Wheels hit packed dirt.
Weight shifted.
Speed immediately followed.
And he was off.
The world narrowed immediately.
Noise around him faded into the background.
Because racing did that.
Everything became balance, speed, and turns.
The packed dirt vibrated under his wheels.
Speed built quickly.
Then faster still.
Cold air hit his face.
His grin came automatically.
Damn, he loved this feeling.
Behind him—
Kazu stayed close.
Closer than expected.
Reki had honestly expected to lose him early on.
Instead Kazu’s board cut aggressively through turns.
Their shoulders nearly aligned through one section before separating again.
“…Damn,” Reki laughed breathlessly.
“You trying to kill yourself tonight?”
No response.
The hairs along his arms lifted.
Tiny.
Instinct.
Kazu should’ve said something back by now.
Mocked him.
Snarled in annoyance.
Anything.
Instead—
The sound that came was strange.
Wet.
Like breathing through something thick.
Reki glanced sideways for half a second.
And immediately wished he hadn’t.
Kazu wasn’t looking at the course.
He was looking at him.
Eyes pinpoint sharp.
It wasn't competitive.
Wasn't challenging.
Wasn't even angry.
It was something else entirely, and cold slid abruptly down Reki's spine despite the speed.
Then—
The board beneath Kazu shifted.
Not toward the turn.
Toward him.
Reki’s brain registered it before understanding.
What the hell—?
Instinct moved first.
His weight shifted automatically, trying to compensate.
Avoid a direct impact.
People crashed into each other at S all the time.
Stupid and dangerous.
Normal.
Only—
Kazu didn’t correct.
Didn’t pull away.
His board cut harder.
Deliberate.
“—Hey!”
The shout tore out of Reki.
Why is he—?
Kazu wasn’t normally the aggressive type like Shadow…
Then—
Impact.
Messy.
Their boards clipped violently.
The force of Kazu’s body slammed into Reki’s side.
His balance disappeared instantly.
For one horrible second there was nothing beneath him.
Then:
Packed dirt.
His shoulder hit first.
Pain exploded hot and sharp before momentum dragged him farther.
His palms tore trying to catch himself.
His knee twisted somewhere in the tumble and he immediately screamed.
His board vanished.
The world spun.
Then it stopped abruptly.
Noise crashed back all at once.
People yelling.
Not race-excited screaming.
Terror.
Reki sucked in air hard and regretted it immediately.
Everything hurt.
His brain checked automatically.
Shoulder moved.
Knee hurt like a bitch, but it still responded when he tried to move it.
Probably okay.
Hopefully.
“...Fuck.”
The word came out thin.
Nearby—
Footsteps.
Quick.
His attention snapped up automatically.
Kazu was already on his feet.
No stagger.
No shock.
As if he hadn't just crashed himself.
For one stupid second, Reki expected:
Holy shit, are you okay?
Because crashes happened.
People checked.
Even assholes like him.
But Kazu didn't say anything.
His chest rose hard.
Uneven.
Then recognition.
His eyes locked onto Reki.
The crowd noise around them warped strangely.
Somebody shouted:
“Hey!”
Kazu ignored it.
Another skater stepped between them.
“What the fuck was that!?”
Kazu slammed into him.
The impact sent both of them stumbling.
Kazu recovered first.
Immediately.
Like the other person had never existed.
His gaze found Reki again.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
Every instinct in Reki’s body screamed.
The horrible certainty that something had stopped making sense long before this point—and that he kept reasoning it away.
“Kazu?”
Nothing.
Closer.
His eyes never left Reki.
“Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?”
The guy Kazu had shoved earlier grabbed his shoulder.
Trying to pull him back.
Trying to stop him.
Kazu moved.
Fast.
The scream that followed didn't sound human.
Reki froze.
Because—
Teeth.
Blood.
Kazu was—
No.
No.
What?
The guy collapsed, deep red soaking his collar and shirt.
People started shouting.
Really shouting.
Panic.
Confusion.
Someone screamed for security.
Someone else ran.
Kazu looked up.
His eyes found Reki immediately, face twisting.
Then he lunged.
Not the movement of somebody injured.
Or even thinking.
Reki’s stomach dropped before his brain caught up.
He moved before he thought about it.
His body twisted hard against the dirt.
Pain shot through his shoulder immediately.
His knee screamed.
Kazu’s weight hit where he’d been a second before.
The impact sent dirt spraying.
What the fuck—?
His board—
There.
A few feet away.
Reki scrambled forward on all fours and reached automatically.
Fingers closing around the edge just as Kazu recovered and turned toward him.
His eyes had already locked onto Reki.
Then lunged forward again.
Reki shoved hard off his good leg and raised the board between them on pure reflex to stop his advance.
The hit rattled through his arms instantly.
Kazu slammed into the board with enough force to nearly rip it from his grip.
Then—
His teeth snapped shut inches from the trucks.
The sound cut straight through him.
Sharp.
Wet.
For one impossible second—
Everything stopped.
Because his brain refused to process:
Teeth.
Trying to bite through maple.
“…Kazu? What the hell drugs did you take?”
Kazu made a noise low in his throat.
Not words.
Pressure increased suddenly against the board.
His hands clawed at the board.
Reki hadn't even seen them move.
Fingers clawed against grip tape.
Skin split around one nail.
Blood smeared dark.
And he kept pushing.
Trying to get closer.
His breathing hitched wetly.
Hot.
Reki’s pulse slammed hard.
Terror hit hard and cold.
Because—
Kazu’s trying to fucking bite me.
Tear me apart.
The thought arrived complete and impossible.
Kazu surged.
The pressure against the board shifted.
Reki's balance disappeared immediately.
One second he was braced.
The next he was flat on his back.
Air punched out of his lungs.
Kazu came with him.
Weight.
Too much weight.
The board remained trapped between them.
Barely.
Kazu shoved harder.
The board trembled violently between them.
The edge slammed into Reki's injured shoulder hard enough to make white explode behind his eyes.
“FUCK—!”
His grip slipped.
Just enough.
—
Langa stared at the enormous television screen that was broadcasting Reki’s beef.
“Has anybody seen Shadow? The old man owes me a new game for losing our last beef,” Miya huffed from behind him.
Langa ignored him.
Why would he care?
Reki was racing.
“Probably had a late flower delivery,” Kaoru offered.
A pause.
“Hmm… Does Kazu seem more aggressive than usual tonight?” Kaoru added.
Langa frowned.
He had also noticed that.
“That means the slime might be in serious trouble winning then,” Miya laughed over his phone.
“Reki will win,” Langa stated matter-of-factly.
“Whatever you say, love bird,” Miya snorted.
The race continued across the screen.
Kazu stayed glued to Reki's side.
Weird.
Aggressive.
But not enough to worry about.
Yet.
Miya clicked his tongue.
“Seriously? Is he trying to ride Reki's board too?”
“His line is sloppy,” Kaoru muttered.
Then—
Reki hit the ground.
Langa's breath caught and he straightened immediately.
Around him, the crowd reacted too.
Some groaning.
Some cheering.
Crashes happened.
Then Kazu got back up.
Kaoru frowned.
“...That's fast.”
On the screen, Reki pushed himself upright.
Clearly injured.
Langa’s chest tightened painfully.
Kazu turned toward Reki.
“What's he doing?” Miya asked.
Nobody answered.
Kazu kept moving.
One of the nearby skaters stepped between them.
Probably trying to help.
The crowd noise around the television shifted.
Confused.
Because Kazu grabbed him.
And bit him.
Silence.
Complete.
For half a second nobody reacted.
Because nobody's brain supplied a reasonable explanation.
Then:
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The shout exploded somewhere behind them.
“Did he just—?”
“No way.”
“What the fuck is wrong with him?”
Langa didn't hear the rest.
Because on the screen—
Kazu was already moving again.
Toward Reki.
The video Miya showed them earlier suddenly flashed before his eyes.
No.
No.
The weird feeling he had earlier—
What he thought he'd seen at the edge of the crowd—
Why did he let Reki go!?
He shouldn’t have let him beef.
Then—
Kazu lunged and the live video cut abruptly.
Plunging the television into darkness.
“What the hell—!?” someone shouted.
Langa dropped his board, already skating away.
“Langa! Wait!” Miya shouted, only a few paces behind him.
Then somebody screamed.
Not because of the television.
Behind them.
Real.
The crowd turned instinctively.
Confused murmurs spread immediately.
“What happened?”
“Did somebody fall?”
Another scream.
Closer.
Sharper.
A gap opened briefly in the crowd.
Just enough for Langa to see someone hit the ground.
People rushed forward.
Trying to help.
Then one of them jerked violently.
The person on the ground lunged.
Teeth.
Blood.
Silence hit for half a second.
Nobody moved.
Nobody understood.
Then:
“RUN!”
Panic exploded.
People shoved past each other.
Tripping.
Falling.
Trampling anyone too slow to get back up.
Langa's board wobbled as somebody staggered directly into his path.
He swerved automatically.
“Move!”
Nobody listened.
Another skater crashed into the railing near the viewing area.
Hard.
Blood sprayed.
Panic renewed.
Someone collided directly into him.
His board flew out from under his feet and he stumbled to keep himself upright.
Damn it!
Langa swooped down, snatched up his skateboard, and shoved forward again.
Three seconds.
Maybe four.
Somebody slammed into his shoulder.
Another stomped on his board, popping it up.
He nearly went down with them.
“Langa!”
Miya grabbed the back of Langa's shirt.
Hard.
“You aren't getting through here on a board!”
“Let go.”
“Look!”
Langa followed Miya’s pointed finger.
“What?”
“The fucking moped, idiot!”
Oh.
Right.
Dope Sketch’s moped.
Reki.
Please be okay.
I’m coming.