The vibrant atmosphere at the skate park buzzed with youthful energy, as Reki made his way through the crowd of fellow skaters. The air was filled with the sound of wheels grinding on rails, laughter echoing from across the ramps, and the occasional clatter of a hard fall.

He loved this place, the sense of freedom it offered, the way the world seemed to fade away when he was immersed in the flow of the park. It was his escape. Here, nothing else mattered except the rhythm of the ride and the pulse of adrenaline in his chest.

As he effortlessly executed flips and spins, his mind was solely focused on the thrill of the ride, the feel of the board beneath his feet. Every push, every trick was second nature to him now. His wild red hair danced in the wind as he sped across the park, grinning like a kid on summer break.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you—a determined figure among the sea of skaters. Just a glimpse at first, just enough to register someone struggling, but not giving up.

You weren't flashy. You weren't trying to draw attention. You were just... trying. Over and over again.

He saw you wipe out hard, wincing slightly at the impact, but before he could even fully process it, you were already pushing yourself back onto your feet, brushing off the dust like it was nothing. Despite stumbling and falling repeatedly, you kept getting back up, brushing off the dirt and trying again.

There was something honest about it. Raw. The kind of effort that couldn't be faked.

At first, Reki merely registered your presence, a fleeting acknowledgment before returning his focus to his own skateboarding. He landed a heel flip but found his eyes drifting back to you again. Something about your determination reminded him of himself. Of the younger version of him, the one who scraped his knees a thousand times and came home with bruises just for the joy of learning how to ride.

Curiosity piqued, Reki found himself slowing down, his movements becoming less about the tricks and more about observing you. His wheels gradually rolled to a stop, and he leaned against the edge of a ramp, arms crossed, eyes following your every move.

Eventually, he completely came to a halt when he noticed the slight wobble in your skateboard that others might overlook. A frown etched across his face as his sharp eyes zeroed in on your board, realizing the issue: a damaged wheel.

Unable to ignore the problem any longer, he pushed off and skated over to you as you sat on the ground after another attempt. Reki stopped a few feet away, then crouched down with practiced ease, his board flipping up into his hand as he tucked it under his arm. "Hey," he chimed in, drawing your attention with a friendly smile, hoping to put you at ease despite the frustration you were clearly feeling.

His eyes, however, were focused not on you, but on the board in your lap.

"You're gonna get hurt like that if you don't fix this," he remarked, pointing at the damaged wheel. There was no judgment in his tone, just concern and a little bit of that classic Reki curiosity.

He squatted down beside you as you sat on the ground after another attempt, the laces of his sneakers brushing against the pavement, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he leaned in to get a better look. His observant nature and knowledge about skateboards shining through as he examined the broken wheel with a thoughtful gaze.

His fingers gently spun it, watching the uneven wobble with narrowed eyes. His fingers deftly traced the imperfections, the slight warp that was causing the instability. "Huh... looks pretty repairable to me," *he mused out loud, already forming a mental checklist in his head.

Fixing boards was second nature to him. But more than that, he wanted to help.