Reki flies to Canada as soon as his university exams end and Langa’s winter term break starts. It’s a fifteen-hour flight with a three-hour stopover, and when he finally reaches arrivals and spots Langa, he runs.
“Langa!” he yells, leaping onto the blue-haired boy.
Langa catches him and spins him in the air. “Reki!”
Reki loosens his legs and alights on the ground, arms staying looped around Langa’s neck. Langa has impossibly grown a bit taller since Reki last saw him two months ago, when Langa returned to Okinawa for Christmas.
“I haven’t seen you in so long,” Reki says. “It’s not been the same skating without you.”
“Same,” Langa says.
Langa leads him outside, and the cold hits him immediately. When Reki thinks of Canada and winter, he always thinks of snow, but it’s is still, somehow, not cold enough for snow.
Night has already fallen, and it’s two metro lines and a bus to get to where Langa is staying. Langa starts their journey by eagerly sharing their plans for the week, but by the time they’re on the bus Langa’s predictably falling asleep. Langa jolts awake just in time for their stop, a skill that never stops impressing Reki.
It’s a short walk in a nice suburban neighbourhood before they reach the house, a family friend’s home where Langa lives as a homestay. “This is pretty nice,” Reki says as he takes in the modern design in the streetlight. “And it’s on a hill!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fun to skate down,” Langa replies. “I’ll have to show you the spots around here.”
He introduces Reki to his homestay parents, a middle-aged Okinawan couple. Langa seems happy and settled around them, and it eases a worry Reki didn’t realize he had. By the end of dinner, Reki’s nodding off, even though he has so much more he wants to talk about with Langa. He falls asleep as soon as he touches the futon in Langa’s room.
*
Langa spends the weekend showing him the touristy sights. They skate around the waterfront, leaping off landings and sliding down rails, sailing past blue water and deep green hills through the chilly wind. Reki’s glad he bought a winter jacket.
Monday, they have to wake up at five a.m. to go snowboarding, because Reki promised to see Langa snowboard months and months ago. Reki can’t wait. He’s been awake since three, so at four fifty-five he jumps onto Langa’s bed and shakes him awake.
They take a bus up, Langa falling asleep on Reki yet again. Reki is too jet-lagged to sleep, and stares out the window into the twilight. As the sun rises, it slowly reveals the winding coastline, casting a golden light upon endless slopes of evergreen. Two hours later, Langa wakes up when the bus turns into a bustling alpine village.
The cold hits Reki as soon as he follows Langa off the bus. “Langa, I’m going to become a popsicle.”
“Do you want my spare hat?”
“Please,” Reki begs.
Langa hands him a knitted hat, which Reki replaces his sweatband with immediately. Reki tucks the sweatband into one of his jacket’s many pockets. Langa, on the other hand, looks perfectly at home in the winter cold, loose hair complementing his robin blue jacket. Langa’s gear comes out of the cargo hold, and they’re off.
Their first stop is a rental shop, where Langa looks on as one of the staff fit Reki with a snowboard. Reki pays, though Langa gets him some sort of student discount because he’s in some club at his university.
Once they’re outside, Langa gets him practicing gliding with one foot strapped onto the board. Reki now understands why Langa was so weirded out by skateboards initially, because Reki keeps expecting his foot on the board to be adjustable and movable and it’s not. He also tries to propel with his free foot like on a skateboard, but his front foot is at too awkward an angle and the flat snow eats any momentum.
“Stop laughing,” Reki exclaims.
“I’m not!” Langa says, obviously trying to hold in a spate of giggles.
Eventually, Reki’s able to move in a straight line for a few metres without his arms pinwheeling in the air, so Langa deems him ready for the next challenge: getting on a chairlift.
Reki’s eyes follow the precarious cables and high towers up the mountain. “And when they tell me to enter, I have to be at the correct spot within sixty seconds?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Langa says. “They can stop the lift.”
That is not as reassuring as Langa thinks. Reki manages to shuffle to the lift without any issue, though it’s uncanny feeling the metal seat scoop him up. Then they’re rising through the air, watching tiny specks cut through the snow below them. Getting off the lift is another chaotic scramble where Langa has to pull him out of the disembarkation zone.
Reki is panting and he hasn’t even snowboarded yet.
Langa leads them to an open space on a long, wide slope for beginners. It takes a few tries for Reki to manage to put his right foot into the remaining foothold, and when he leans down to tighten the straps he ends up on his back. Langa laughs, but crouches down beside him and assists with the straps.
Then Langa lets Reki try to get up by himself. Key word: try. The first time, Reki overbalances and falls forward into the snow. The next few times, he doesn’t get up far enough, and lands on his ass. Reki thought snow would be soft. It’s not.
“Want help?” Langa says, offering his hand with a grin.
“Fine,” Reki grouses. He reaches out, grabbing Langa’s hands and pulling until he’s upright, face a breath from Langa’s.
Langa loosens his hold, but keeps Reki’s hands in his. “Keep your board horizontal. Tilt it forward if you want to go faster, and bring it back up if you want to slow down.”
He lets Reki try a few times, inching backwards down the slope as Reki inches forward.
“Got it?” Langa asks.
Reki lets go of Langa’s hands. “Got it.”
Langa’s lips quirk up. “Don’t go too fast at first, ’kay?”
Reki makes a face. Langa telling someone not to go too fast.
Langa shifts out of the way, and the slope stretches out in front of Reki. It looks longer and steeper than any beginner’s course Reki’s seen in the videos he looked up before this. It’s the type of slope he’d skate down without thinking, but it’s just a little intimidating when he’s in gear that feels off in the tiniest ways.
Reki pitches his board and starts moving downhill. As he starts to gain confidence, he leans in a bit more, and then he’s going way faster than he thought he would be. He tries to pull the board back, only to tumble and slide another metre down on his ass.
“Help,” Reki yells back up the hill where Langa is standing.
Langa jumps, knees lifting as his body turns. He lands with his board straight down the slope and quickly gains speed as he approaches Reki. Just when Reki thinks Langa’s about to barrel right past him, Langa twists and carves a sharp corner. He brakes right in front of Reki, sending up a plume of snow over the two of them.
With a snap, Langa pulls up his ski goggles up, uncovering his aquamarine eyes. “Having fun?”
Reki grins up at Langa. “Of course!”
Langa pulls Reki up and brushes the snow off Reki’s hat. He follows Reki closer this time, giving Reki tips as Reki slides down the slope in tiny increments. Eventually, Reki starts to find his groove, angling his board to zigzag across the course. Langa encourages him to try turning, but that involves going backwards downhill and Reki isn’t quite ready for that. Instead, when Reki reaches the edge of the course, he slows to a stop and makes a small hop before starting towards the other side in switch.
Reki falls less and less and goes faster and faster, and by the end he’s only falling on purpose when he can’t brake in time to dodge a kid. He’s way too used to being able to just hop off his board. They come to a stop at the end of the hill, Langa braking in a graceful curve and Reki with a stop-turned-tumble.
“Wanna try something harder?” Langa asks.
Reki says, in a smug tone, “I’m that good already, right?” He doesn’t bother brushing the snow off his sleeve.
“Sure,” Langa says with a laugh. “But really, there’s going to be more space and less people up there.”
Reki agrees, so they both unstrap a foot — Langa’s left and Reki’s right — and make their way to the line for the chairlift. This time, Reki finds it easier to propel himself one-footed through the line, even if the board still feels oddly large and attached. The ride is longer this time, and Langa spends it explaining the colour coding system for ski runs.
When the chairlift pauses and leaves them suspended a few stories above the ground, Reki loses his nerve. “Is something wrong?”
“No, this happens all the time,” Langa says.
“And you just sit here?” Reki gesticulates as he says this, causing their chair to sway in midair. He clutches onto the safety bar.
“This isn’t any more dangerous than S,” Langa says.
“Yeah, and you nearly gave me a heart attack several times.”
The lift manages to stop twice while they’re on it, and Reki is glad when they’re back on solid ground. Langa is right about the different course, which he tells Reki is a green run. It’s longer and narrower, and sometimes there’s no one in sight but the two of them and metres of trees. Reki experiments with different angles and curves and Langa mirrors him, weaving around and beside each other. It’s just like skating through the streets of Okinawa with Langa.
Reki still hasn’t figured out how to brake like Langa does by the time they reach the end of the run, but it’s close to lunch and both of them agree to a break. Langa takes him to a building that, inside, looks like a wooden ski lodge straight out of a movie, if said lodge had a cafeteria that could feed a few hundred people. Or one Langa.
Langa orders several burgers and a large plate of poutine. Reki gets two burgers — bison, because he wanted to try it, and regular beef — and regular fries. They take their trays and manage to find a free table up in the loft.
“You have to try this poutine,” Langa says.
“I’ve had poutine before,” Reki says. “You made me eat some the first time we went to A&W together.”
“That’s because most of the stuff in Okinawa called poutine doesn’t even have gravy, never mind cheese curds,” Langa says. “This stuff is better than A&W.”
Reki tries some. He can’t tell the difference, but it’s fried and fatty so he won’t say no.
“I’ll take you to La Belle Patate sometime this week,” Langa says. “That’s the best poutine place unless you want to visit Québec with me.”
It’s kind of rude to bring up money, but Reki is surprised that Langa could afford to travel, considering he already returned to Okinawa a few months ago. “Isn’t university here expensive?”
“I’m a domestic student,” Langa explains. “It’s about the same for me as in Japan, and there’s no entrance fee here. Also, my parents had set up an, um.” Langa struggles a bit to translate. “It’s a bank account, government thing, for my education. And I might qualify for a scholarship next year.”
“Right,” Reki says, “I heard that you were getting recruited for the national team.”
Langa says into his soda, “Skateboarding or snowboarding?”
“Both of them?!”
“And the Canadian team too, for snowboarding,” Langa says. “Although I don’t think I would make the cut. It’s way more competitive; I’ve seen some of the guys on the team around. I also met a few of the guys trying out for the Canadian skateboarding team after I sent you and Miya the videos, but the timing is —” Langa makes a see-saw motion with a hand.
Reki reaches out, holds the hand still, and looks straight into Langa’s eyes. “You can do it.”
Langa looks bashful. “Thanks,” he says. “It’s a fun thing for me, I guess, and I’m not sure how fun it’ll be with so many rules.” Reki nods his head in understanding. “Still,” Langa says, “I’d prefer a scholarship to finding a new part-time job.”
“Oka says you can come back for the summer,” Reki replies. Oka had suggested it after constantly finding Reki watching videos of Langa sent of him skating in Canada.
The corners of Langa’s mouth lift up. “Tell him I will.”
After their lunch, Reki insists on Langa showing him his snowboarding skills. There’s a half-pipe on the mountain, and Reki wants to see Langa on it.
They make their way up a few lifts and to the top of the half-pipe. Langa finds a spot on the side, straps into his snowboard, and drops in. He starts by weaving back and forth, gaining speed. Soon, he’s lifting up at the lip of the pipe, hanging in the air before rushing back down. He builds up more and more air, into method grabs and three-sixties and McTwists. It’s astounding, to watch Langa fly into the air, body revolving suspended in space and time, hair glittering in the alpine sun.
Langa reaches the end of the pipe, and a spell lifts from Reki. Langa has to trek back up the pipe from the side, but when he returns to the top he’s still glowing, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling.
“You were amazing,” Reki gushes.
“Really?”
“Of course you were,” Reki says. “That was a warm-up, right?” Langa nods. “C’mon, I wanna see you for real.”
Langa agrees easily to a few more runs down the half-pipe, going higher and harder each time. Reki wants so badly to join him, be beside him.
“There’s a terrain park here,” Langa says, somehow noticing Reki’s unvoiced yearning. “You’d like it.”
Reki thinks Langa might be being overconfident about Reki’s skills after half a day of snowboarding, but when they get there, it’s actually not too bad. The slope is less steep than the bunny hill they were on in the morning, and the rails and ramps look familiar.
Reki sticks to the boring side as he trails Langa down the hill, watching him doing basic indys and 180s and boardslides. Then Langa turns and grins at him, and Reki can’t help but be caught up in his exhilaration. Reki veers left, straightening before he’s on one of the small ramps and up in the air. For a brief second, he’s flying in the air, then his board hits the snow and his feet slide out from under him.
“I’m fine!” Reki shouts. He sits up and pulls his goggles back into position.
Langa is in front of him, hand extended to pull him up. “Next time, shift your weight towards your toes when you’re landing.”
It takes Reki a few more ramps to figure it out, and when he does, he’s so excited he snowboards right into Langa and takes him down into the snow.
“You did it!”
“I did it!”
Reki sticks to the ramps and doesn’t try any of the rails or pipes, but they do another couple runs down the terrain park before it starts getting dark and the chair lifts start shutting down. They make their way back to the rental shop, where Reki returns his gear with a grin on his face that stays there through the bus ride back until he falls asleep on Langa.
Langa wakes him up when they reach their transfer stop. Langa drops his gear off at a friend’s, and they have dinner at the poutine place as promised. Reki’s still not sold on poutine, but the smoked ham is pretty good.
“Did I ever tell you you’re amazing?”
Langa lights up. “You are too.”
Langa takes him to get hot chocolate afterwards, and there’s a heart drawn in foam on top of both of their drinks. Reki snaps a photo to share on Line.
“Um,” Langa says. “The barista thinks we’re on a date.”
Reki’s finger freezes on top of the send button. He tries for a laugh. “That’s pretty funny?”
“ I don’t mind,” Langa says. “If you don’t mind.”
Reki’s brain screeches to a halt. “I don’t. I don’t mind.” Reki can’t say he’s thought about it before, but he really doesn’t mind. Langa’s his best friend and he spends all of his time with Langa anyway. Or chatting with him, now that Langa’s studying overseas.
“Yeah?” And Langa’s smiling at him, head tilted in that way he does right before he asks Reki to do something a little stupid and a lot daring with him.
Reki grins. “Yeah. Of course.”