Chapter Text
It all comes down to this. The third run. Langa surveys the sea of concrete ahead of him, some parts jutting upwards and others valleying deep below the platform. The sea of cheering spectators seem to all blend together as Langa’s eyes focus on the board beneath his feet. He places a hand over his heart, feeling his own heartbeat. The feeling is still gone. His heart beats normally in his chest, but that euphoric rush of adrenaline is missing. Langa’s hand drops to his side as he assumes the starting position.
The commentary from announcers billow through the park. Langa couldn’t be bothered to listen. He already knows what they’re gonna say. He’s heard it all before.
“Starting his third run of the day, Hasegawa has already had quite the electric start. Scoring a 95 on his first run and a 98 on the second, it's no secret that this skater is definitely going to be one to watch. However, right on his coattails is Toronto’s own Toby Martell, scoring an impressive 97 on his first run and a 94 on his second. With these third runs, it's anyone’s game.”
A moment of silence echoes through the park until…
The air horn finally blares.
Langa drops in from the platform, staring blankly ahead of him. He dives down into the bowl, looping around the curves with ease. As he reaches the ridge of the bowl, Langa spins the board into a frontside kickturn. Dropping back down into the bowl, Langa soars to the other side, landing a backside kickturn at the opposite end. The crowd’s cheers grow louder and louder with each skill. Ascending from the bowl, Langa takes on the rail farther down the course. As he mounts the top of the rail, the board shakes for a moment before coasting into a backside noseslide. Letting out a long sigh, Langa moves towards the final structure of his run: the ramp. Gliding across the asphalt, he reaches the ramp with ease. As Langa gradually reaches the top, he soars high above the concrete landscape beneath him, fully rotating before landing back on the ramp. The crowd’s cheers are deafening. To Langa, though, it feels as if they’re all lightyears away. Langa slowly rolls to a stop once his momentum wears down, now awaiting his score. The familiar billowing voice of the announcer blares through the park once more.
“What a performance! The judges have deliberated and Hasegawa has received a 93 on his third run. For Martell to take home the victory today, he’s gonna need to score a 96 or above. Let’s see what he can do!”
Langa grabs his skateboard and heads for the sidelines. Martell is decent competition. They’ve competed against each other plenty of times, each getting in their fair share of wins along the way. His landings are famously messy in the third run, though. Langa sits down on the aluminum bench, chugging from his water bottle.
“Langa, honey, that was incredible!” a familiar voice chirps. Langa recognizes it immediately as his mother and spins around. Nanako Hasegawa stands on the other side of a chain link fence between the park and the spectators, beaming at her son.
“Oh, thanks. How’s Dad doing?” Langa mutters. Nanako glances off to Oliver, seated in his wheelchair next to the aluminum bleachers. He flashes a smile towards his son and gives him a thumbs up. Langa returns the gesture with a smile on his face.
“He’s okay. He’s just gotta take it easy today. I’ll tell you, me and your dad are so proud of you.” Nanako says tenderly. Langa smiles softly at his mother, then turns back to the park.
“Wait, before I forget,” Nanako begins. Langa turns back around to the fence. “There’s a scout that wants to talk to you after the competition.”
“What do they-” Langa starts, but is interrupted by the announcers once more.
“It’s a close call, it really is. On this third run, the judges have spoken and Toby Martell has received a 92. With a steep score of 283-286, Hasegawa takes the win!” Nanako cheers, jumping up and down on the opposite side of the fence. Langa lets a small smile seep through as he turns towards his father, applauding rapidly. Langa reaches to feel for his heart again. Why isn’t he enjoying this moment more? Everything that could have gone right has happened, but the thrill is still lost.
A sharply dressed Japanese man stands in front of the Hasegawas. He is neatly dressed in a charcoal gray suit, a white button up shirt, a navy blue tie, and shiny black dress shoes. His hair is perfectly combed back into place on his head.
“Hello, Langa. My name is Hikari Enomoto, and I am here on behalf of Japan’s National Skateboarding Team. I have been keeping up with your competitions and I must say, I am very impressed. I would love to set up a meeting with you and your parents soon to discuss possible offers from our team. How does that sound to you?”
“Japan? Where in Japan?” Langa stammers.
“Our training is centered in Okinawa primarily.” Enomoto answers coolly.
“Where would I live? I’m from Vancouver, it's not like I could commute-”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We have dormitories in our facilities where those far away from home can reside.”
“What about my parents? Can they come with me?”
“Well… that’s up to them. Our facilities cannot house them, unfortunately, so they’d have to find shelter elsewhere.”
Nanako interrupts their words quickly.
“Langa, we’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about us when there’s such a huge opportunity in front of you.”
Langa uneasily switches his gaze from his mother to his father. Oliver gives a grin as he says to his son, “You have it in you to go so far, don’t waste this moment.” Nodding profusely, Langa turns back to Enomoto, asking “When can we meet you?”
“Oh, if that’s okay, I’d like to just meet with you.” Enomoto grins, pulling a business card from his blazer pocket. Langa looks hesitantly towards Nanako, who rapidly nods back at him. Langa warily reaches out towards the business card.
“Meet me at this address tomorrow night at 7:00 and we can discuss your future with the Japan team.” Without sparing another moment, Enomoto strides off, leaving the family abuzz.
—
Enomoto’s office was located in a pretty standard corporate building. The waiting room was adorned with a gray wallpaper, accented every few feet by a painting of some geometric shapes. Langa stares at the clock in between two of the paintings. 6:52. In 8 minutes, his whole life can change. Staring at the clock’s hands tick endlessly, Langa couldn’t help but think,
Is this even the right decision? It just seems so selfish to leave Mom alone to take care of Dad. I should be there. Japan’s so far, what if something happens? What if-
“Hasegawa?” the small voice of a receptionist interrupted his train of thought. Langa glances back at the clock. 6:58. Two minutes.
Entering Enomoto’s office put a pit in Langa’s stomach. Everything was feeling far too real. Too permanent. It was a small office, barely fitting the furniture snugly within its walls. Enomoto’s desk was a humble wooden desk, adorned with framed photos, small baubles from various countries, and a mug filled to the brim with pens. His desk is accompanied with a black leather office chair. The walls of the office are covered in posters and framed photos of a variety of people doing skate tricks, all adorning Team Japan regalia. One picture on the wall stood out to Langa, though. A group picture. Two rows of people are smiling brightly at the camera. In the back row was Enomoto and other men in suits. Must be higher-ups, Langa presumed. The front row was a line of men in Team Japan, kneeling and holding a skateboard out in front of them. All the way to the left of the row, a tanned muscular man with dark green hair towers over the rest. Next to him, a black-haired middle schooler sports a green helmet that seems to have cat ears coming out of it. Down the line, a college-aged man with orange hair is smiling, but his gaze is just missing the camera’s lens. Langa’s eye stops on the person next to the orange-haired man. In the picture, a boy seemingly the same age as Langa kneels alongside the other men, beaming impossibly bright. The boy’s bright red hair is pushed back by a navy blue headband, but is still quite unruly. Someone in my age range, that’s good. I wonder if he’ll be there when I go. If. If I go. A tall, lanky man with incredibly long pink hair stands off to the side of the row in a Team Japan sweatsuit. Enomoto enters the room, clasping his hands together as he takes his place at his desk.
“Hello again, I’d love to talk to you all more about this opportunity.” Enomoto grins.
“Hey. Yeah, I definitely wanna talk to you about some things before I make any… lasting decisions.” Langa answers.
“Great. Now, Team Japan is always looking for new recruits, and I must say, you’ve had quite the impressive career so far. I mean, just yesterday, winning the Canadian Men’s Park Final? At 19, that is no easy feat. 34 wins under your belt in 3 years, that’s truly impressive. How did you get so far in skating in such a short time? Some of these tricks you’re doing take people months, even years, to figure out.”
“Oh, well thank you. Yeah, my dad taught me how to snowboard when I was two. He was a pro snowboarder in Vancouver before-” Langa shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He pauses, clearing his throat, “well, that’s not important. But, yeah, he taught me everything I know about snowboarding, which helped a lot to learn skateboarding.”
“I see. Now, I want to officially offer you a spot on Team Japan. I want you to know the expectations, though. It’s going to be rigorous training, 5 days a week. You’ll be placed on a diet regiment put together by our dietitian. No drinking, no drugs, no getting arrested.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Great. Now, I understand you have some questions?”
“Yeah, actually. If there was an emergency at home, would I be able to fly back?”
“Certainly.”
“Okay, that’s good. If I sign that contract, can I leave if something happens back home?”
“You have 6 months where you’re required to stay within our care for liability reasons. But, after that, you can leave.”
Langa stares at the hard wood of Enomoto’s desk.
“Would you mind if I take some time to think about it?”
“Why don’t you sleep on it and let me know tomorrow?”
“Alright.”
–
“You said you’d think about it!?” Nanako paces the kitchen, throwing her hands in the air. “This is huge! You have to take this opportunity!”
Langa leans against the counter, fumbling with his hands.
“I wanted to talk it out with you guys first before I made any big decisions. I mean,” Langa glances to the living room where Oliver is seated on the couch watching TV, “What if something happens with Dad?”
“Langa, your dad will be fine. Yeah, some days are harder than others for him, but we’re both adults. You don’t have to worry about him, I promise. This is a huge opportunity, you can’t pass it up.” Nanako gently places her hand on her son’s shoulder. “I know how much you love your father, but you can’t spend your whole life on edge about him. If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.”
Langa strides out of the kitchen to the living room, then stands in the doorway. Without looking away from the television, Oliver chuckles.
“I wish you’d stop worrying about me, Langa.”
“I just want you to be okay-”
“I’m more than okay. I know the past 3 years have been hard for us, but you don’t have to live in constant fear that something’s gonna happen to me.”
“Promise you’ll call me if anything comes up.”
“Fine, but I’d much rather call you to see what amazing work you’ll be getting up to in Okinawa.” Oliver cracks a smile at his son, who finally relaxes into a laugh.
“Go call Enomoto up. Hopefully he’s not asleep already.” Langa reaches at the coffee table for his phone, dialing rapidly.