Chapter Text
It’s a few days after the dust settles post-Wedding Beef when Tadashi notices Ainosuke had started looking at him differently. Or rather, there’s something familiar about the way his eyes rest on him, in a way that makes time feel like it’s moving backwards rather than forwards.
For some time after losing his race with Langa, Ainosuke had been uncharacteristically quiet, burying himself in work and meetings that never seemed to end. For a while, Tadashi wondered if Ainosuke had been upset, but the pieces never quite fit. Tadashi had seen anger before, and it never looked like this.
I thought I’d gotten rid of it long ago, Ainosuke had said. But he taught me, like you did back in the day. Tadashi turns those words over and over again in his head, trying to understand Ainosuke and what he needs, not only because it’s his job, but also because he doesn’t know a time where he hasn’t been doing just that.
Tadashi had been wrong before, plenty of times, most recently thinking that he knew best and needed to take skateboarding away from Ainosuke. But it’s the day Ainosuke revealed that he’d never planned on letting Tadashi take the blame for perjury that Ainosuke had properly looked at him again, and Tadashi realises how little he truly knows.
“Did you think I would release you from your collar?” Ainosuke had said, the sunlight streaming through the windows softening his features as he turned to him. “You are my dog for the rest of our lives.”
Tadashi remembers the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice – how it had been familiar a lifetime ago – and he feels the heat rushing to his cheeks, his heart running towards him, and Tadashi is affirming that statement with a smile he hasn’t known the shape of for years.
Something had changed. And maybe he’d finally got it right.
Their eyes meet, and Tadashi registers the way Ainosuke’s eyes widen fractionally with the slight raise of his brows. It’s marginal, but Tadashi sees it because he’s used to watching him, and Tadashi catches himself with a slight inhale, mirroring Ainosuke’s surprise on his own face before he knows it’s happening.
“I should make a trip down to the council office,” Ainosuke says after a pause, lifting the edge of his sleeve to check his watch.
Tadashi takes a step back, where the ground feels solid beneath him.
“I’ll get the car,” he says, and Ainosuke lets him leave.
-
A few days later, Tadashi is standing by the varnished doors of Ainosuke’s study, flipping through his agenda when he glances up and catches Ainosuke looking at him.
He straightens, waiting for instruction, but Ainosuke lets his gaze slide sideways, like Tadashi had interrupted a thought, before he turns his attention back to the documents he had been looking at.
The curtains that hide the large CCTV screens behind him are drawn shut and had remained shut after the Wedding Beef. Tadashi doesn’t think he’s seen Ainosuke reach for his skateboard in a while, remaining shut in the closet along with the rest of Adam.
“There’s a party for Langa-kun to celebrate his win at Dope Sketch this afternoon,” Ainosuke murmurs after a short pause, punctuated by the faint scratching of pen on paper.
“Shall I arrange for a helicopter?”
“Roses, too.”
Tadashi checks out the helicopter, clears Ainosuke’s schedule and gathers fresh roses from the garden, the kind he used to tend to with Ainosuke watching from behind a hedge. By the time he returns, Ainosuke has already laid out the red matador of love, his back turned to Tadashi, waiting.
“What happened to your other suit?” Tadashi asks when he zips him up and pulls the vest over his shoulders. Tadashi’s eyes trace the long line of his spine, where it had been exposed, lined with jagged edges, broken and beating.
When Ainosuke doesn’t answer, Tadashi glances up to see his eyes on him in the reflection of the mirror, and his hands falter from where they had been adjusting the vest, hovering inches from Ainosuke’s back. There it is again, that same look, familiar yet new.
“What happened to your other uniform?” Ainosuke asks instead, turning his attention to the cuff of his sleeve, tucking the edges of his gloves under them.
Tadashi lowers his eyes, thinking about the bomber jacket and the red cap that he has stowed away, along with the skateboard that he hasn’t touched since the night he decided to forfeit his race with Langa, and they leave it at that.
-
When Adam parachutes down to crash into Langa’s party, a dazzling display of primary colours and grand gestures with a bouquet of red roses in his hands, Tadashi catches himself smiling because amidst the chaos of a dispersing crowd, plates crashing and everyone screaming bloody murder, Tadashi hears Ainosuke laugh, his voice lilting as he calls out Langa’s name, and for the first time in months – maybe even years – there is nothing menacing about it.
Ainosuke’s laugh – the one he’d first heard as a child on a moonlit night – Tadashi realises, is his favourite sound. It has been for a long time, through afternoons in the garden and evenings in an empty pool, and he has spent years chasing it, trying to make up for its absence, wondering if it’s maybe best to have never known it at all.
The invitation to Langa’s party had been extended by Kaoru and Kojiro, Ainosuke’s friends from high school, which had been a particularly kind gesture, seeing as Ainosuke had made swinging a skateboard in their faces part of his routine on the “S” track.
In entering the tournament and stepping into a space where he hadn’t been permitted, Tadashi found himself learning new things about himself, about the generosity of others, and the world outside of the Shindo family’s four walls.
But most importantly, he thinks he’s learning more about Ainosuke. He doesn’t mind being wrong if this was what was waiting at the end of the tunnel, because as he watches Adam thrust the bouquet under Langa’s nose with Reki wrapping his arms protectively around him while someone yells “Have you lost your mind?!”, Tadashi sees the flashy, alluring, mysterious Adam set free in the light of day.
He remembers when Ainosuke debuted as the matador of love. It was like meeting a part of him he’d kept locked and hidden away. When Ainosuke had first put on that white winged domino mask and stepped towards him, Tadashi had been mesmerised. Guilt-ridden for years after watching his skateboard go up in flames, Tadashi saw in Adam the depth of Ainosuke’s feelings for his only respite, and as warped as his endeavours had been, balancing Ainosuke’s needs and duties had been integral to his role as his secretary.
Perhaps around these people – people he could call his friends someday – Ainosuke could learn to love skateboarding once more, and maybe he could finally be himself.
Maybe.
Ainosuke hadn’t returned to Crazy Rock after his defeat and had no plans to do so even after crashing Langa’s party. From reopening the mine to demolishing the initial “S” track, he left them all to Kaoru and Kojiro. Life seemed more normal than they’ve ever been, reminiscent of a time when Adam took a back seat, watching the happenings of “S” from afar until something new piqued his interest. But as Tadashi watches Ainosuke lower that winged domino mask on the way back to the Shindo mansion, he gets the feeling that things are far from normal.
Ainosuke gives him the rest of the night off, and after wrapping up his tasks for the day, Tadashi lies awake in his bed with the curtains open, staring at the bedroom window adjacent from his.
He watches the shadows as the lights in that room remain on, and sleep doesn’t come easy.
-
Sometimes when Tadashi closes his eyes, he sees himself – aged nine, maybe ten – watching Ainosuke from afar.
Tadashi doesn’t let himself think about the past often, but these days, those memories come rushing forth whether he likes it or not. And tonight, he sees Ainosuke – aged six, maybe seven – curled up in a corner of the garden, and the moment when Ainosuke looks at him reveals itself, reminding him of the moment that his world tilted on its axis.
Tadashi opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling.
He realises what had been familiar about Ainosuke’s look now. He’s seen it before on a younger, kinder face – tentative, uncertain, curious. Eyes that sought him out and then the thrill of feeling wanted.
He sits up in bed and checks the clock. It’s four in the morning, and he had been fading in and out of sleep before his body seemed to have finally given up on rest. He supposes he could get an early start to the day, organise the materials for Ainosuke’s morning meetings later, maybe even have breakfast if he felt like it.
Tadashi’s day always starts with a glance at the bedroom window adjacent to his, and today is no different. The window is open, the curtains billowing in the wind, and he thinks about how he would’ve closed it if Ainosuke hadn’t sent him away early yesterday.
It’s a little past four-thirty when Tadashi is putting on his tie. It’s then that he glances out of his window at the empty swimming pool to see a single figure in that space, staring up at the night sky.
Tadashi remembers blinking several times, certain he’s seeing things, before he’s taking one step, two steps, three steps back, and then his legs are carrying him there, because Ainosuke is sitting out at the back of the mansion, alone at a strange hour, and nothing makes sense.
“Ainosuke-sama.” Tadashi thinks it’s odd how he’s breathless when he steps to the edge of the empty pool, because he doesn’t recall running. What are you doing?
Ainosuke turns to him, leaning back on one hand while the other rests on a bent knee.
“Just getting some fresh air,” he says, like he isn’t the least bit surprised to see that Tadashi has found him here. His voice sounds tired and hoarse from the lack of sleep, and he’s already dressed in his usual white shirt and blue waistcoat, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
Ainosuke gestures to the space next to him with his chin. Tadashi hesitates, but Ainosuke is looking at him, waiting, so he steps into the empty pool, folding his legs awkwardly because he doesn’t know what to do with them. He eventually settles on pulling his knees to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, to take up as little room as possible.
“You’re always up this early?” Ainosuke asks, when Tadashi finally stops shuffling about. He smells like cigarettes.
“Not always.”
Ainosuke makes a non-committal sound. He’s staring at the moon in the distance, while Tadashi’s eyes land on where Ainosuke has placed his hand, resting carefully over the twin hearts engraved on the ground.
He suddenly has a memory of Ainosuke, aged six, leaning on his shoulder in this exact same spot, dozing off, reluctant to return to the mansion after a particularly brutal beating. His gaze drifts to Ainosuke’s wrist, pale and bare, and he remembers the way that Langa had pulled him back from the zone during their race, fingers curling over the ghost of angry red bruises his aunts once left.
“I think I had been looking forward to seeing you skate at the tournament,” Ainosuke suddenly says, jolting Tadashi from his thoughts. He’s still staring at the moon, studying its shape, the light reflecting in his eyes.
“But you did see me skate,” Tadashi says lamely, and he knows it’s lame from the way that Ainosuke snorts, a little huff that he exhales through his nose.
“I suppose I did.”
“They said that when you skated, it’s like you were dancing,” he continues, his tone deceptively light, but Tadashi hears the edge in his voice. “They sounded like they were talking about Adam.”
“That’s because – ”
“Because you were the one who taught me how to skate?”
When he looks up, Ainosuke is looking right at him, an eyebrow raised questioningly.
“I…” Tadashi’s mouth hangs open, but no words come, so he presses his lips together, averting his eyes. He hears Ainosuke take a breath, the kind that signals the end of a conversation or discussion. And then he exhales, and it sounds like a sigh – not resigned, just thoughtful.
“Might’ve appreciated it if I wasn’t so angry.”
Ainosuke drags his fingers over the concrete, over the twin hearts, but because his attention is now on the patio, it’s hard for Tadashi to tell if he’d meant to do that at all.
“Are you still angry?” Tadashi asks. He feels all of ten years old again, when they had their first fight, over something he can no longer remember.
Ainosuke doesn’t deign to give him an answer, only gets to his feet and dusts himself off.
“Get up.”
Tadashi looks up at the sudden order, all limbs and legs as he tries to scramble to his feet. But then there’s a hand thrust under his nose, and Tadashi forgets how muscles work, jerking back in surprise.
“Get up,” Ainosuke repeats, harsher this time when Tadashi’s eyes follow the line of the arm extended to him, all the way up to Ainosuke’s face. Again, there’s nothing in his gaze to hint that he’s upset. It’s an order. Nothing more, nothing less.
So, Tadashi reaches out and closes his fingers over the small of Ainosuke’s wrist – where he’s sure those scars remain – and he’s pulled to his feet with a firm tug, Ainosuke’s touch sparking little jolts of electricity down his arm, straight to where he thinks his heart should be. The momentum sends him stumbling into Ainosuke’s chest, and he stands abruptly still, face inches from his.
Tadashi doesn’t get to apologise because Ainosuke is already turning around, their hands are no longer touching, and watches as Ainosuke heads back up, out of the empty swimming pool. Then unexpectedly, he glances back at him.
The moonlight hits his face just right, and there’s something dramatic about this moment, fitting for Ainosuke, fitting for them.
-
Corrupted.
That’s the word that Tadashi thinks best describes a lot of things in Ainosuke’s life, from the Shindo family’s history in politics, his aunts’ warped concept of love, his childhood and teenage years, their relationship, and by extension, Ainosuke himself.
When Tadashi assumes the role of Aiichiro’s secretary after he turns nineteen, he sees the extent of the rot, because being a secretary for the Shindo family is about solving issues, preventing incidents, and making problems go away. He sees how the matters of the Shindo family were far larger than any world he had created with Ainosuke, and so he makes himself as small as possible, as useful as possible, and he takes up as little space as possible, in any room, any situation, and any discussion.
The day Tadashi decided that he didn’t have an opinion was also the day that Tadashi realised that he doesn’t always see things coming, even though he’s supposed to. Because if he really thinks about it, he knows that it’s the same day Ainosuke decided on his own set of rules too. For some reason, he hadn’t seen that coming.
It only becomes clear later on, with thousands of people watching on a big screen, what those rules were. Friends are there only to betray you someday. You desire to believe in other people who are uncertain at best because you are still a child.
It’s those words that he’s thinking about today as Ainosuke charms the socks off yet another representative as the new top dog. It’s really just an endless game of intrigue and betrayal, and Ainosuke was made for this.
His father would be proud.
When Aiichiro passed, he’d made sure that Tadashi knew his place in protecting the Shindo family. But over the years, Tadashi also watched Ainosuke grow taller, his heart turn darker, his voice increasingly laced with a dangerous lilt, and he sees how easily Ainosuke has grown into this life, handling it with unnerving ease. He’d become more than his father could ever be, because even now, he dances on the edge, just out of reach, from politicians, the police, and his own family.
Tadashi tells himself that Ainosuke isn’t the same person he once knew. Where others had known Adam the Matador of Love and Ainosuke the charming young politician, Tadashi had only ever known young master Ainosuke – the child crying in a corner, his first friend in the manor, his first love even before he knew what that was.
Ainosuke had called him “uncertain at best”, but Tadashi knows that he had been nothing but certain about this part of his life. Even if it didn’t have a name at the time, he’d been aware of his feelings almost as soon as they’d first appeared, the way that Ainosuke’s pure, unadulterated joy had sparked the first flutters in his chest, his face warming at his laugh, and the way his eyes would shine just for him.
None of that would amount to anything, but these feelings are the only thing between them that remain incorrupt and unbroken, and Tadashi holds them close, protecting them with his silence.
As he watches Ainosuke send the representative off with a flawless smile and honeyed words, Tadashi knows that a lot of how he feels is nostalgia. It’s funny how no matter which part of their history he’s thinking about, which adoring look Ainosuke is giving him, or which touch he yearns to feel again, the memory reel always ends on that day, in front of the furnace.
In some ways, they’d become what Aiichiro had hoped. A master and his dog. A self-fulfilling prophecy from the day he’d first laid eyes on the two of them playing in the garden, in the way he’d groomed them with an intimate understanding of how they’d come to act. In this way, Ainosuke had taken after his father, in his understanding of people and in how he always remained several steps ahead.
The only exception – Tadashi realises during Ainosuke’s races with Reki and Langa – is when it comes to his understanding of his own self. In those years that Aiichiro had been around, he’d made it such that his son would never have the room to understand himself, and he’d be led to believe that no one would understand him. The final nail in the coffin turned out to be the choices Tadashi would come to make, and Aiichiro held such an iron grip over them, even from the grave.
But Ainosuke isn’t his father. Unlike Aiichiro, what Ainosuke does seems to exhaust him. He engages in deception with a smile on his face, yet when it’s just the two of them in the car or a room, Tadashi finds it hard to ignore the hard line between his brows and the tension in his shoulders.
Ainosuke has a duty, just like him. In this way they were the same, and Tadashi holds that fact close, like a piece of consolation for the lives they are leading.
-
As they work in silence for the better half of the afternoon, Tadashi’s attention strays to Ainosuke, only because it’s his job to notice things. Today, Tadashi notices him nodding off while reviewing documents, the shadows under his eyes darker and his complexion ashy from what Tadashi assumes are sleepless nights.
Since that evening with Ainosuke, Tadashi wakes often in the middle of the night, looking out his window to find that the pool remains empty, just like it had been for years. Yet, Ainosuke’s bedroom window remains open every evening since, and Tadashi falls asleep each night, watching the curtains billow in the breeze.
Later, he doesn’t flinch when Ainosuke looks his way, and he doesn’t flinch when Ainosuke holds his gaze, waiting for him to speak. When he hesitates, Tadashi sees the muscles in Ainosuke’s jaw twitch, his patience wearing thin.
Ainosuke may have mellowed out in the past few weeks, but he is not always kind, and Tadashi knows the longer he stays quiet, the more likely he’ll be on the receiving end of Ainosuke’s wrath. Ainosuke’s lips twist into a snarl, pushing his chair back with an almighty screech on the hardwood floors, and he tugs at his tie, storming out of the study to head straight to his room.
When Ainosuke is tense like this, it usually means a night at Crazy Rock, but he leaves no further instruction, remaining in his room until it’s time for dinner – a quiet affair with Ainosuke’s aunts away for a charity concert that evening. Tadashi prepares the car anyway and goes to fetch Ainosuke’s skateboard, only to find it missing from it’s usual spot.
It’s a little after nine when Tadashi hears the familiar slide of wheels on concrete, and there, by the edge of the empty pool, he sees Ainosuke standing, absently sliding the skateboard back and forth with the tip of his foot.
Ainosuke stops moving the skateboard by the time he gets close, and Tadashi doesn’t think he’s heard a silence more deafening.
“Seemed much bigger back in the day, this place,” Ainosuke says without turning to him, kicking the skateboard down to the bottom of the empty pool, where it clatters and lays still. There’s a dangerous aura radiating from him, the kind that precedes a needlessly violent act.
“Many things seemed bigger back then,” Tadashi offers, watching as Ainosuke hops down to where his skateboard is, viciously kicking it upright. Ainosuke skates straight into a jump, an angry momentum that sends him flying fast and high into mid-air with a resounding whoosh.
Tadashi doesn’t know when Ainosuke had skated last, but that move felt like it had been powered by an entire month’s worth of frustration. Ainosuke lands the jump easily despite the speed, braking hard with a half-turn when he gets back to the bottom.
“I should get rid of it.”
Tadashi hears Aiichiro’s voice in the hard edge of Ainosuke’s voice, and for a brief, satisfying moment, he lets himself feel the full extent of the red, hot defiance at the unfairness of it all – his plight, this life, of absolutely everything, and it makes his skin prickle.
Spaces have memories, and he finds the prospect of having the words of a dead man buried six feet under claw its way into one of the last remaining spaces that hold the memory of an Ainosuke he once knew, truly the worst.
In reality, you still desire it. Someone other than yourself. He doesn’t know if Ainosuke ever had a choice in this life that he’s leading, but Tadashi has always made his own. And in this moment, he finds himself on a precipice of another choice when Langa’s statement pushes out Aiichiro’s voice.
Tadashi knows impulse when he feels it, the way it ripples under his skin, the heat that courses through his veins. It was impulse that led him to Ainosuke eighteen years ago, and it’s that same impulse that led him to grab his own skateboard before heading here.
What a terrifying combination impulse and desire are in paving the road to hell.
But something has changed, and Aiichiro can go fuck himself.
Tadashi steps on his own board and kicks himself off the edge of the empty pool, gliding down the side to circle Ainosuke once, effectively stopping his path of motion. Ainosuke is rarely caught off guard, but today, he is by Tadashi’s sudden appearance – on a skateboard, no less. A flash of rage crosses his features. It’s instinctive, defensive, an echo of the look he’d given Tadashi when he’d confronted him at the tournament.
Old habits die hard after all, and Tadashi has habits of his own too.
“What do you think you’re – ”
“It’s still big enough for the both of us,” Tadashi says, meeting his gaze. He keeps his voice level and assured, certain in its delivery, and then he watches the anger on Ainosuke’s face dissolve into something that resembles confusion.
“Ainosuke-sama,” he says, the name rolling off his tongue in a way that sounds unfamiliar, even to him. “Would you like to skate with me?”
-
It rains for several days following that evening. If Tadashi had been remotely religious, he’d say it’s heaven’s way of meting out his punishment for stepping out of line.
That night, Ainosuke had stepped off his board like Tadashi’s words had punched him in the gut, eyes widening slightly before narrowing as they travelled across Tadashi’s features.
“You are years too early to ask me a question like that.”
When he kicks the board into his hand, Tadashi wonders for a brief moment if he’d be swinging it across his face. Ainosuke doesn’t, only brushes past him with his jaw set, board in hand, and Tadashi is left alone again, wondering if his question had taken them two steps back.
With the rain coming down every evening, any chance of finding Ainosuke by the pool skating is quickly out of the question. They go about their everyday routine, and Ainosuke is a master of ignoring things when he thinks it beneath his efforts, not unlike the way he’d acted after Tadashi went up against him by registering for the tournament. As incensed as he had been, there had barely been a shift in the way he’d treated him in their professional capacity.
Ainosuke’s resounding silence marks the end of their conversation until further notice, so Tadashi lies in bed each night, listening to the loud and unwelcome sound of rain hitting closed windows until sleep claims him.
And then one day, the rain stops.
Tadashi wakes in the middle of the night, wondering why the room seemed far too quiet, and then he realises it’s because the intrusive pitter-patter of rain on glass had finally ceased. He sits up and glances out, and sure enough, Ainosuke’s bedroom window is open again.
“I suppose this must’ve been the only place you could have practised,” Ainosuke says when Tadashi approaches, his arms crossed over his chest. It’s only a little past midnight and Ainosuke looks much like the first night Tadashi had found him here, in his white shirt and blue waistcoat, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His brows are pinched together, eyes trained on the twin hearts on the ground, submerged in a shallow puddle of rainwater.
“Show me.”
Tadashi looks at him, puzzled, and Ainosuke gestures to the pool with a jerk of his head.
“Skate.”
It’s not ideal skating in these conditions, puddles of water making the concrete slick and slippery, but Tadashi does as he’s told, gathering momentum on the slopes for a jump as Ainosuke watches him. It’s thrilling, Tadashi thinks, as he sets up his first jump, launching himself into the air and pulling his board close with a twist of his hips. He’s forgotten how much he’d liked having Ainosuke’s eyes on him like this, even if it lacks the warmth and innocence they once held.
He slips on the landing, the wheels of his board losing traction over a thin film of water, but he pushes a hand against the concrete, righting himself as he goes for the next jump. This time, he glances at Ainosuke when he’s in mid-air and sees him watching him, one foot resting on his own skateboard, like he’s counting down.
And sure enough, when Tadashi hits the ground, he hears the sound of wheels approaching from behind, and the next time he pushes himself into a jump, Ainosuke is right there next to him, and it shouldn’t surprise Tadashi, but it does. The wind in Ainosuke’s hair, the way those blood red eyes turn to him, the moonlight on his face. And when he lands from that jump, Tadashi stumbles off his board while Ainosuke swerves to the side and skates up to the top of the pool again, narrowly avoiding a collision with his runaway skateboard.
“I have an early morning tomorrow,” Ainosuke says, studying him when Tadashi finally skates back up to where he’s standing.
“You have a breakfast meeting with the environmental committee at eight,” Tadashi tells him instinctively. “Your aunts also mentioned having a word with you before you head off for the day.”
Ainosuke makes an irritated noise, pinching the bridge of his nose when he turns to leave.
“You need to time these things right.”
Ainosuke could have been referring to a number of things when he speaks of timing, from breakfast meetings to last-minute audience requests from his aunts. But when Tadashi picks up the skateboard that Ainosuke has left with him, he briefly wonders if he’d perhaps reconsidered his proposal after all.
-
A week later, Ainosuke’s aunts leave the mansion for a soirée at the home of a family friend, and Tadashi senses the shift in Ainosuke’s energy as soon as he hears the news.
Tadashi tells him that his schedule is clear that evening, that his first appointment for the next day is at ten, and he isn’t surprised to find Ainosuke’s eyes on him when he looks up from the agenda.
“Should I prepare the car?”
On nights like these, Ainosuke makes a trip to Crazy Rock. It’s routine, it’s habitual, Tadashi knows his needs like his own.
“I’m not heading anywhere this evening,” Ainosuke tells him, turning his attention back to the files on his desk.
It occurs to Tadashi that habits can change.
Dinner is over in fifteen minutes, and by eight, Tadashi is at the pool, skating with Ainosuke right at his heels. Ainosuke is too close, and Tadashi knows why he’s doing it. He has always skated dangerously, and right now, he’s chasing speed, urging Tadashi to go faster for more lifts and higher jumps.
This ought to be worrying, scary even. But Tadashi has never been afraid of Ainosuke, not even when he’s striking him across the face or yanking him by his hair. He’s also never been afraid of Ainosuke when he’s skating, not when he’s the person who taught him how to do so in the first place.
The world rushes by as Tadashi crouches low, the wind a whistle in his ear, and he jumps and picks up speed, jumps and picks up speed. There’s the familiar course of adrenaline at every drop, the ever-present question of whether he’d be able to land right or if the board would slide out from under his feet, but he goes faster because Ainosuke goes faster, and he jumps higher because Ainosuke jumps higher. If he slows down, there’s a sure chance of the front of Ainosuke’s skateboard ramming into his own, sending them both flying head-first into the concrete, and someone’s going to get hurt. Someone always gets hurt.
When Tadashi gets enough air to flip 180, Ainosuke does the same, and for a single, terrifying moment, Tadashi thinks their boards will collide. He adjusts the angle of his legs, twisting as Ainosuke mirrors his move, and in the second that they face each other, Tadashi catches Ainosuke’s eye, and he swears Ainosuke feels the same charge of electricity that he does.
This triggers another memory, faded and worn at the edges, of a weekday afternoon when Ainosuke turns nine. They’ve climbed up a ledge, and Ainosuke is telling him, on the count of three, okay? His eyes are shining, soft at the edges and brighter than the morning sun. And then, I’ve always wanted to do this with you, Tadashi, whispered in his ear, a hand wrapped around his wrist before they are leaping off into the empty pool, headed down the ramp, and he remembers turning to find Ainosuke’s eyes on him, with little to no care about where they are headed, laughing and delighted, watching him, watching him, always just watching him.
The memory knocks the wind out of his chest on the way down, and Tadashi loses focus just long enough to miss a proper landing. His heart jumps, the way it does before a free fall, but Ainosuke is right behind him, a hand pressed to the small of his back, steadying him before he slips off, the momentum of Ainosuke’s own clean landing guiding them both into smooth glide to the other end of the pool until Tadashi regains his balance.
“That’s it,” Ainosuke says, slightly breathless, the way he gets whenever something excites him. “That’s the speed for the jump.”
Tadashi breathes a sound of acknowledgement, soft and only slightly dazed, every inch of his skin tingling with adrenaline and something from the past. There’s a single bead of sweat that slides from Ainosuke’s temple down to his jaw, past the slight curl at the corner of his lips, and it’s what Tadashi fixates on when he glances at him and his world is set in motion once more.
-
Tadashi discovers that a lot of the skating he does now is muscle memory.
It may have been years since he skated seriously, but his body remembers the sweat that clings to his back and the burning in his lungs, and most of all, it remembers Ainosuke’s presence, the proximity and the way he moves.
His body remembers even if he doesn’t want to, just like it had at the tournament.
It’s that familiarity that leads him to angle his jumps to put some distance between them without really meaning to, and they remain a fraction of a second out of time.
They’ve met like this several times now, each time when Ainosuke’s aunts are away, when the moon is high, when the rest of the manor is asleep. Gone are the days he spends looking out the window, because it’s Ainosuke who seeks him out, and as far as Tadashi is concerned, his time has always belonged to Ainosuke.
Ainosuke lands a twist at the edge of the pool and circles back, letting gravity pull him down to where Tadashi is pushing forward to the steady roll of wheels on concrete, counting down.
“Let’s take a break,” Ainosuke says as he passes him, and Tadashi jams his foot on the ground, skidding to a stop before he reaches the corner of the pool. He expects Ainosuke to be frustrated at how they are making no progress because it denotes incompetence.
Speed isn’t the issue. Tadashi is fast. He gets enough air time to pull off these simultaneous flips and Ainosuke is always right there, never missing his cue. And yet, they remain here, unable to close that gap.
“Did you genuinely think you could beat me?”
Tadashi glances at Ainosuke. He knows he’s talking about the tournament, the race that didn’t happen and will never happen. Ainosuke is running a hand through his hair, and again, Tadashi focuses on a single bead of sweat that slides down the side of his face, this time down the long line of his neck.
Ainosuke’s white shirt is soaked through, and so is Tadashi’s. It’s been years since he’s seen Ainosuke properly break a sweat because he is rarely interested in something enough to get serious. His races with Reki and Langa have come close, but it’s never for an extended period of time. Not like this, and certainly not with him. Not for a while now.
Today, Tadashi has a memory of teaching young Ainosuke how to ollie, two weeks after he’d first found him crying in a corner of the patio. Ainosuke has the weekend afternoon to himself, his father and aunts away for a social function. And so, Tadashi is company, and he remembers the way Ainosuke had come bounding to him. Just a week ago, he’d been tip-toeing around him, tentatively peeking around bushes and corners while Tadashi had been helping the servants, eager to see if Tadashi could spare him some of his time. A week later, it becomes clear to Ainosuke that Tadashi always has time for him.
He recalls looking at Ainosuke sprawled at the bottom of the pool, thinking about how he needed to have a bath before his father and aunts returned. You’re sweating too much, Ainosuke-sama, Tadashi remembers saying. You’re going to be in trouble if Aiichiro-sama sees you like this. He had reached over to wipe the sweat trickling from Ainosuke’s temple with his sleeve, and Ainosuke’s turning his head into his arm, brilliant red smiling eyes fixed on him, saying, don’t worry, Tadashi, I’ll be okay.
“I would have done whatever it took,” Tadashi offers distractedly in a moment of frankness when the frown on Ainosuke’s face pulls him back from that memory. Tadashi sees the questioning raise of an eyebrow and decides that sentimentality is the only reason why he’d say something like that.
“As if anyone would doubt your sheer force of will,” Ainosuke mutters with a roll of his eyes. There’s something bitter and specific about that statement, like it’s tied to a line of moments repeatedly cementing that belief.
“Why aren’t you going to Crazy Rock anymore?” Tadashi asks when it gets quiet again, though he isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer. It might confirm his suspicions that he’s simply the latest shiny thing in Ainosuke’s box of toys to break.
Ainosuke casts a sideways glance at him, and there’s a pause that says you insufferable idiot.
“I’m busy training my dog,” he says as he skates off to the top of the pool. “He’s remarkably slow.”
Tadashi blinks, taking a breath as his world boils down to the way his heart flips in his chest and the heat rises to his cheeks, familiar since the last time Ainosuke called him his dog. It’s less the name and more the way Ainosuke says it. Dog or not, there’s the implication that Tadashi is his and most of all, Tadashi wasn’t quite expecting that response.
“Remember, you wanted this,” Ainosuke reminds Tadashi when he finally skates up to the top of the pool as well.
“I do,” Tadashi says. “I want to skate with Ainosuke-sama.”
Ainosuke looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a third head. It’s times like these when Tadashi remembers the effect his honesty can have on Ainosuke. He sometimes wonders how Ainosuke would react if Tadashi let the dam of emotions break and the full force of them hit him in a suffocating wave.
“Then stop messing around,” Ainosuke says, turning his attention sharply away from him to focus on the path in front of them instead.
Tadashi follows Ainosuke’s cue, and they drop in from the edge of the pool together, riding the curves of the pool several times to gather speed, before they launch into their first jump. There’s a different energy that comes from skating in tandem like this, discovering the best way to keep their movements in sync, to keep the air resistance across both bodies consistent. And judging from how easily Ainosuke adapts to the way Tadashi extends his arms and crouches low, Tadashi’s skating style must’ve remained largely the same through the years. Because they’ve done this before, about a lifetime ago.
There’s a special thrill particularly in the jumps, when their breathing aligns and the lifts are perfectly timed. By the time they gain enough momentum to integrate the flips, the skating feels like muscle memory, and every shift and slight change in energy suggests that Ainosuke is laying up for a flip. They repeat this sequence a few times, encountering the same issue where Tadashi instinctively angles outwards and away from Ainosuke just before the jump.
He can feel Ainosuke’s eyes burning into him and his own mounting frustration, but then at the fifth time they try it, Tadashi feels the energy shift just before they hit the edge of the pool. Ainosuke’s fingers curl over his hips, pulling him close and adjusting his stance as they launch into the air. It’s not the steadiest jump, but Ainosuke leads with his momentum, and then they are flipping 180 simultaneously for the first time.
“Just like that,” Tadashi hears Ainosuke murmur as they land. Ainosuke’s hands are no longer by his hips, but the space where they had been feels warm, the sensation of the cool sweat-soaked fabric of Tadashi’s shirt and the burning of his skin mingling with the adrenaline of newfound success.
Tadashi recognises the start of an addiction when he feels it.
He glances back and Ainosuke is watching him, watching his reaction and –
“One more time,” Tadashi says, circling back once more with Ainosuke behind him. If Ainosuke had minded being told what to do, it doesn’t show, because they are picking up speed together again, Ainosuke close, closer, and closer still when they launch into a jump, two, three, and then a flip.
There’s wind in his face as their bodies line up, breathing in sync, a simultaneous jump and flip guided by the ghost of Ainosuke’s hands.
Just like that.
His body remembers Ainosuke’s touch, simple muscle memory.
-
Two weeks later, Ainosuke’s aunts announce that they will be going on a month-long trip across Japan with members of their philanthropy network.
“Should I come along for a part of the trip?” Ainosuke asks over the breakfast table. “I’m sure I could spare some time in my schedule.”
“Focus on your work here,” his youngest aunt assures him. “Having three sisters of the Shindo house is more than enough representation from our family.”
“It’s more important that you not embarrass the Shindo name while we are away,” his second aunt adds, looking at him over the rim of her tea cup. “You can do that, can’t you, Ainosuke?”
“Certainly,” Ainosuke says, his trademark winning smile firmly in place. “Please rest assured.”
They leave on Wednesday for the airport in three separate cars that Tadashi has arranged, and Ainosuke stands by the front of the manor, sending them off with a bouquet of flowers each, also arranged by Tadashi. It’s always about the details, and Tadashi always makes sure to take care of them.
When he glances over at Ainosuke as the cars finally pull out of the driveway, he senses his air shifting, as if his aunts had taken the tension in his shoulders with them.
Indoors, Tadashi thinks about how the Shindos have a way of taking up space, making their aura felt even if they weren’t physically there. Much like Senior Master Aiichiro, his sisters’ presence is everywhere in the mansion. The lipstick stains on the cups from this morning, the sickening sweet scent of perfume lingering in the air… and when his gaze falls on a chair in the room, he remembers peering in from a gap between the door and the wall to see a younger Ainosuke with his arms stretched out, barely flinching as his aunts took turns hitting him with a metal ruler. Each blow was accompanied with a scathing remark about how he was lucky that they were taking the time to correct him even though he was letting the family down, and an obediently whispered thank you for loving me.
“What are you doing?”
Tadashi turns around to see Ainosuke looking at him from the hallway.
“Stop spacing out and finish clearing the room,” Ainosuke continues before heading to his study. “We have a lot to do today.”
Tadashi turns away from the chair, makes quick work of removing the silverware, and with a final glance at the room, he makes a mental note to open the windows and bring in fresh flowers – likely roses.
There are many different shapes a warped love can take, but Tadashi decides that his own will not be one of them.
-
Tadashi has long realised that people do not notice the things that they do not wish or care to see. He is a shining example of this fact.
It’s for this reason that no one sees him when he’s skating in the pool as a child, and it’s the same reason they don’t see Ainosuke and him together as children even as they play there in broad daylight.
Everyone remains too busy, too caught up in their own lives to ever notice – at least until it matters to them. Even now, no one notices the Shindo family secretary, what he’s doing, or where he is because he simply isn’t important enough until they need him.
As long as they aren’t looking for him, he gets away with skating in the night, and as long as they aren’t looking for Ainosuke, he gets away with pursuing skating at Crazy Rock, and even with Tadashi at the back of the manor, in full view of anyone who will look out their window.
Later that night, Tadashi heads down with his skateboard and Ainosuke is already sliding along the edges of the pool, waiting for him. It reminds him of the way young Ainosuke would always be at the pool at various hours of the day, kicking his feet, waiting for Tadashi to be done with his duties.
After weeks of their late night skating rendezvous, Tadashi starts to understand that while he always has time for Ainosuke, it was Ainosuke who always made time for him.
Today, Ainosuke is skating close enough for their bodies and boards to bump, and each time it happens, Tadashi adjusts, chalking the slip-ups to exhaustion. But it happens repeatedly, and by the third time it happens, Tadashi looks back to check on Ainosuke and finally realises what he’s trying to do.
It’s been several days since they nailed the simultaneous jumps and flips, and there’s only so many new tricks they can attempt before the rush of achievement begins to dull.
Ainosuke is bored, and he wants to try something new – something that Tadashi is familiar with. This side of Ainosuke has never quite changed, and was what had led him to leap off the patio roof the first time anyway. It’s the reason why he skates the way he does.
So, Tadashi picks up speed, pulling away from him.
Chase me, his eyes say as he glances at Ainosuke. If Ainosuke needs to take someone out, it’ll be him.
The pool is no “S” track, but it’s good for going fast, and with the way they’re both familiar with its curves, it’s certainly possible to turn the area into a track of sorts by integrating the patio and the garden around it. After all, they’ve raced here as children too.
Tadashi launches himself out of the pool, and dives into the garden, charting out his path in the back of his mind as he turns each corner, effortlessly avoiding the uneven cobbled edges with the twisting of his body – dancing, as the regulars at Crazy Rock would call it.
He can hear Ainosuke coming up behind him, slower only because Tadashi’s escape had been unexpected. Ainosuke is relentless when he’s chasing someone, hot at Tadashi’s heels, his approach changing the air around them, heavy and oppressive.
The fact that Snake had clocked a faster time than Adam in the Wedding Beef preliminaries had been a simple matter of science rather than skill. Ainosuke is taller than he is, with shoulders broader than his as well. Tadashi may be skilled at skating, but so is Ainosuke, and it’s only a matter of time before he makes up for that difference.
If someone had been looking for them, they would have noticed the roll of wheels racing across the pavement, the harsh scratch of plastic against stone as Tadashi and Ainosuke round the corners. But because no one is looking for them at eleven in the evening, they go undetected, the sound of their skating just the noise of a number of other insignificant things happening within the manor.
Ainosuke gets close, and Tadashi times it just right so that he slows down before they get to the pool, letting their skateboards click in place like he had expected them to. He spins around as Ainosuke grabs his hand, the other arm around his waist, and he’s staring into Ainosuke’s eyes as they tip off the edge of the pool with Ainosuke leading their descent.
A dance.
Tadashi watches the wild look in the light of Ainosuke’s eyes as they spin down the side of the pool. The last time they had been pressed together like this was when they were younger, before Cherry and Joe, before things went horribly wrong, when Ainosuke still skated with him. It was like this back then too, dangerous but Tadashi never minded, because Ainosuke would never hurt him.
It came as no surprise that this sort of skating later featured prominently in Adam’s at “S”, but time had made all the difference because he’d begun flinging people off cliffs and dragging them against the ground, and Tadashi learnt that Ainosuke could – and would – absolutely hurt someone.
Ainosuke is much larger now, taller, his chest and shoulders hardened with muscle. Tadashi is by no means a small man, but standing chest to chest with Ainosuke like this, he certainly feels small and overpowered, the sensation distinctively different from when they were teenagers.
Tadashi doesn’t get a chance to dwell on this thought because Ainosuke releases him as soon as they reach the base, almost pushing him aside as he brakes with a half-turn.
“You slowed down at the end,” Ainosuke states, a hard edge in his voice. “If you’re going to skate with me, do it right.”
“Ainosuke-sama…” There’s an apology on the tip of his tongue because Tadashi can see how that move might have upset him, how it might’ve come off as condescension.
“Tomorrow,” Ainosuke says decisively, signalling the end of the evening as he steps off his skateboard.
He walks off without a single glance back, but his skateboard remains by Tadashi’s feet, and Tadashi reminds himself that it’s always about the details.
-
Tomorrow comes soon enough, and as Tadashi helps him get dressed the next morning, he catches his fingers lingering by the lapels of Ainosuke’s jacket, recalling the way his chest had felt against him. They are close enough that if Ainosuke reaches out and tugs him in, their bodies would collide just like they did last night.
Tadashi finishes buttoning the suit, casting a final eye over the entire outfit for creases, and by the time his gaze makes it back up to Ainosuke’s face, Tadashi notices that his eyes remain closed, like he’s trying to catch as much sleep as he can. His eyebrows are pinched together, dark bags of exhaustion stark on his pale skin.
Something is bothering Ainosuke and the fact that it has been bothering him for weeks now is not lost on Tadashi. It seemed that while skating again and his aunts leaving for a month had helped with the tense air around him, it was also independent of what was weighing on Ainosuke’s mind.
Ainosuke is busy for the rest of the day and well into the evening, a full calendar of back-to-back meetings across the island. By the time they make it back to the manor, it’s almost eight-thirty, and Ainosuke decides to take dinner in his room.
“I have to prepare for a presentation tomorrow,” he says, handing Tadashi his jacket as he heads into the bathroom. “You can wrap up for the day.”
Tadashi folds the jacket in his hands, delivers Ainosuke’s dinner when he’s still in the shower and makes sure to close the windows before he leaves.
He tells himself that Ainosuke isn’t upset with him over the events of last night, and the fact that they haven’t spoken and aren’t skating tonight is simply a case of him being busy. This isn’t new – in fact, this “speak only when necessary” and lack of skating was the entire basis of their relationship prior to recent developments anyway.
Tadashi curls up in bed, watching as the first drops of rain fall. Glancing at the bedroom window adjacent to his, he can see Ainosuke working at his desk.
Tadashi wonders when he’d gotten greedy. His body is itching for a race, for the growing familiarity of its proximity to Ainosuke, and somewhere along the way, Tadashi suspects that skating again hadn’t truly just been for Ainosuke’s sake.
-
The next day comes and goes with Ainosuke just as busy, jumping from the office to various commitments throughout the day. Tadashi isn’t spared, juggling calls, scheduling matters, organising meeting minutes and chauffeuring duties.
They seem equally drained when Tadashi finally pulls up to the driveway of the Shindo manor, particularly after what seemed like a poor night’s sleep for the both of them.
Ainosuke wakes as soon as Tadashi says his name, crimson eyes snapping open into alertness, gaining his bearings quicker than Tadashi would’ve if he were in his position.
Tadashi glances up at the sky at the sound of rolling thunder as Ainosuke steps out of the car, and if their exhaustion hadn’t convinced him that they wouldn’t be skating this evening, the approaching storm certainly did. Which is why he does a double take when Ainosuke passes him and says: “Wait for me downstairs.”
Tadashi blinks with his head still bowed, and by the time his mind finally catches up, Ainosuke has already disappeared into the manor.
Ainosuke and Reki had been lucky that their race had only been graced with a generous pelting of rain. Okinawa’s storms are not to be messed with.
Tadashi parks the car and heads straight to the pool with his skateboard. Perhaps if they got an early start, they could conclude the evening before it starts to pour. Though from the way the clouds appear, the skies wouldn’t hold out for long.
Setting his jacket and tie aside, Tadashi does a test skate around the pool, recalling how the concrete had been slick and slippery when he’d skated for Ainosuke several weeks ago. It had been dangerous skating then, and skating here in the midst of a storm would likely end in an accident.
Ainosuke arrives shortly after, skateboard in hand, his usual waistcoat, tie and jacket set aside for the evening.
“It looks like it might rain,” Tadashi tries to tell him, despite sounding like he’s stating the obvious with another roll of thunder in the background.
“Never stopped any of the races at ‘S’,” Ainosuke says, lining up by the start line at the pool where Tadashi stands. Tadashi wonders if that’s what this is – a replacement. Would Ainosuke have gone to Crazy Rock tonight if he hadn’t been a more convenient option?
Tonight, they don’t warm up, launching straight into a race through the garden. Tadashi leads, hit by the scent of roses and that of a storm brewing, any trace of exhaustion dissolving with the rush of wind across his skin. Ainosuke catches up, his body inches from his, the air electric and skin warm.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ainosuke mount some steps and kick off, the move sending him flying into a landing in front of Tadashi as he begins to put more distance between them. Tadashi crouches low, bending forward to gain more speed as he uses his hands to help close the gap by reducing time at the corners. With Ainosuke leading and determining their path for the evening, even bridging their distance by a few centimetres helps when he doesn’t know what’s coming next.
When Tadashi rounds the next corner, he realises that Ainosuke is leading them to a narrow stone ledge. It starts to rain, and as expected, Ainosuke shows no signs of stopping. He’s made it to the ledge, barely reducing his speed as the rain begins to beat down on them.
Water splashes up from the surface as Tadashi chases Ainosuke, and Tadashi watches as he slips on the dismount, swinging into a landing by grabbing on to the lamp pole and disappearing around the corner in a brilliant flash of blue.
Ainosuke is pushing himself especially hard in this race, perhaps unnecessarily so, and Tadashi wonders if this has anything to do with the last race he had with Reki. Tadashi slips on the dismount too, grazing the side of his hand on the corner stone as he tries to right himself. There’s a vague stinging sensation, and a quick glance down at his palm confirms that he’s broken skin.
The rain is coming down in sheets now, and it obscures Tadashi’s vision as he turns the corner. He blinks away the water from his eyes, trying to get a good look at where Ainosuke is headed and finally spots him skating on a straight path down towards the pool.
The thing with skating in the rain is that there’s no time for second guessing. Any hesitation could lead to an even worse tumble. Tadashi gives chase and hopes that it means the brief race is about to come to an end with Ainosuke heading back towards the pool.
He makes out a figure turning into the patio, where he knows lies a dead end, so Tadashi charges ahead, sliding in at a speed far too fast for current conditions. However, he doesn’t have time to correct it because he comes face to face with Ainosuke who is skating straight towards him.
Tadashi barely registers that it’s a rendition of Adam’s Love Hug before Ainosuke directs his board to the side, spinning around just as he passes Tadashi and clicking their skateboards together as he grabs Tadashi by the waist. Jerked back by the momentum of Ainosuke and his board, they skate towards the pool rather than away from it.
“Took you long enough,” Ainosuke says, voice raised to be heard above the roaring of the rain.
“Ainosuke-sama,” Tadashi tries to say through the rainwater and wind that’s hitting his face as he’s led to the edge of the pool at an impossible speed, “this is too dangerous.”
Ainosuke ignores him and they skid on the way down the side of the pool, but they manage to slide to the other end, turn, slide, and gain speed as they circle along the curves of the pool with Tadashi controlling their balance as Ainosuke skates aggressively to reach the speed they need to pull off a jump.
“Ainosu – ”
He’s almost yelling now because no one can hear them over the rain. There’s water in his nose, and Tadashi feels like he’s choking on it with every breath, jamming his elbow against the concrete each time they begin to tip to the side. Ainosuke is doing the same, his fist colliding with the surface of the ground the minute there’s the slightest possibility that they are about to slip.
By sheer aggressive determination and merciless recoveries, they manage five simultaneous jumps – it’s insane and dangerous, and the only reason Tadashi thinks he’s even doing this is because of the same reason he does anything at all. It’s the same truth he’s known for years.
It’s also for that reason that even with the rain beating down on them, Tadashi still manages to tell the moment Ainosuke decides that they have enough momentum and lift for a flip, and despite every fibre of his being warning him that this is a terrible, terrible idea, Tadashi is leaning forward, mirroring Ainosuke’s stance as he prepares for the trick.
Out of all the surprises this evening, the biggest one of all is this: they manage to pull it off. Tadashi remembers the sharp intake of breath when the pool comes into view again after a disorienting whirl of sky and rainwater. He makes the mistake of glancing at Ainosuke then, so curious to see if he’s as breathless as he feels, if he’s smiling, if his eyes are wild or –
Tadashi’s breath catches, simply because Ainosuke is looking at him.
The wheels slip on the edge on their landing, and because neither of them had been prepared, they are flung forward, off their boards. Nothing moves in slow motion. In fact, it happens so quickly that Tadashi only recalls seeing the ground coming up close, then his face is in Ainosuke’s neck, and he registers a hand cradling the back of his head before he squeezes his eyes shut at the impact of hitting the bottom of the pool.
He hears a crack, but he can’t tell whether it’s from him, or Ainosuke, or the skateboards falling to the ground. He feels rattled, but nothing hurts more than it usually does, and when he opens his eyes in a panic, he sees Ainosuke on top of him, his body limp and close.
“Ainosuke-sama,” Tadashi breathes, reaching a shaky hand towards him. There’s always this fear when they were skateboarding as children – and later when Ainosuke skates with others – that he’d get hurt. Tadashi knows that Ainosuke’s skating partner for the season would sooner land himself in the hospital before Ainosuke gets hurt himself, but he worries all the same each time he sees his body hit the ground. Ainosuke’s body is completely still, and it’s then that Tadashi notices the arm wrapped protectively around him, and the hand that remains on the back of his head to cushion his fall.
And then Ainosuke starts to laugh.
Tadashi stares wide-eyed as Ainosuke shakes with a full-bodied laugh, the sound a lovely, rich timbre that sings in the storm. Ainosuke finally untangles himself from Tadashi, flipping onto his back as he gets breathless from his own laughter. It’s then that Tadashi gets a good look at Ainosuke’s face, open and delighted with his eyes closed, as if he’s experiencing the way the rain feels on his skin for the first time. Water is collecting around them at the base of the pool and they are an absolute mess, but relief washes over Tadashi. Nothing is broken, nothing is bleeding, not for now at least.
And finally, he starts to laugh as well – only because he knows that in this moment, no one can hear them.