Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ Balance ❯ Part 4, Mental 2/3 ( Chapter 13 )

BALANCE
A Hikaru no Go Sekkushiaru Roman Series
By Sailor Mac


PART FOUR: MENTAL (2/3)


Kyoko was coming off the elevator when she felt someone barrel into her. She gasped, whirling around.

There was a very flushed, gasping Shindou Hikaru. "I'm sorry!" he said, frantically waving his hands in front of his face.

"No harm done," she said. "You just scared me a little. Are you off to play today?"

"Yes," Hikaru said. "I've got a game." He looked at his watch, frowning. *And at this rate, I'll barely make it,* he thought as he stepped into the elevator.

"Oh, before you go -- do you and your friend want to come for dinner tomorrow?"

"Sure," Hikaru said.

"All right! I'll see you two around seven, then!" she said, waving.

The doors closed and Hikaru leaned against the back wall, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

He'd left the apartment a wreck. He'd managed to get the dishes in the dishwasher, but there was still furniture to dust, sheets to change, laundry to do . . .

*Maybe Touya will do some of it after school,* he thought. *No, wait, he said he has to teach today. Damn. Well, we can do it tonight, I guess, after we play -- but that's going to be after 9, 10 o'clock! Who wants to do housework at that hour?*

The elevator pinged open, and Hikaru rushed out -- almost bumping into a burly, nearly-bald man who had grown a bushy black mustache to make up for the lack of hair on his head. His plain T-shirt and blue jeans both looked more than a bit well-worn.

"Watch where you're going, faggot!" the man barked.

Hikaru whirled around. "Hey! What did you just call me?"

"I call 'em as I see 'em," the man growled, walking into the elevator.

"You come back here," Hikaru said, rushing after him, "and I'll teach you . . ."

But the doors shut, and the man was gone.

Hikaru went back outside, banging the door behind him this time. On top of everything else, they still had to face people like *that*.

As he rushed off toward the subway (*thank the gods it's only a block away,* he thought), he realized he'd accepted Kyoko's invitation without talking to Akira about it first. And Akira had a game the next day.

*Oh, it'll be over by then,* Hikaru thought. *It's not like he's playing someone like Ogata-san.*

His own opponent today was a six-dan. He knew he was going to have to collect his thoughts and get rid of this *frazzled* feeling before he settled down at the goban.

*Maybe it'll be a fast game,* Hikaru thought. *Maybe I'll have time to finish it, and come home, and do my chores, and . . .*

As he rushed down the subway stairs, he caught sight of a digital clock on the wall. He was even later than he thought.

"Crap!" Hikaru shouted, running toward the trains as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

"Where is Shindou?" Ochi asked Waya as they sat in the break room, watching other players start to make their way toward the playing room for the day.

"Like this is the first time he's ever been late?" Waya said, finishing his can of coffee and tossing it in the trash can.

"I figured he might be more responsible now that he's moved out of home," Ochi replied, pushing his glasses back up on his nose.

Waya just shrugged and said, "Don't think that would make a difference."

But inwardly, he was wincing. It had been all over the Go world's grapevine that Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira were moving in together. The scandal was still fresh in people's minds. Some just shrugged and went on with their lives. Others still whispered behind the couple's back when they weren't looking.

*I really hoped he would realize his mistake before it got that far,* Waya thought. It still burned him that Shindou had chosen *Touya Akira*, of all people, to have an affair with.

Isumi walked over to where the other two were sitting. "We'd better go in the other room," he said. "It's just about game time."

As they headed for the anteroom, leaving their shoes in the cubbyholes, Ochi said, "You two don't go places with him anymore, do you?"

"With who?" Isumi said.

"Shindou," Waya said, quietly. "He knows how we feel about Touya."

At that moment, the elevator opened and Hikaru rushed out, running like an Olympic sprinter toward the anteroom. He stopped suddenly when he saw who was there.

The last people he'd wanted to see. He had awkwardly avoided Waya and Isumi ever since the outing.

"Oh . . . hi, Waya-kun . . . Isumi-san . . . Ochi-kun," he said, while quickly pulling off his shoes and stuffing them in a cubbyhole.

Isumi and Ochi said their hellos. Waya was silent.

"Um, how's the new apartment?" Isumi said.

"Doing okay," Hikaru said, just as the buzzer rang.

All four of them breathed a sigh of relief. It was like being saved by the bell.

*I needed that on top of everything else,* Hikaru thought as he walked into the game room. It pained him that his friendship with Waya and Isumi had fallen apart. *Why should I have to choose between them and Akira?* he thought.

He positioned himself at the goban, legs tucked under him, taking a deep breath and trying to empty his mind.

He was going to need all the help he could get today.

* * *

"You know, maybe we could ask him to have lunch with us sometime," Isumi said as he unwrapped his Quarter Pounder.

"Maybe," Waya said without enthusiasm, pouring ketchup on his fries.

"It really does bother you that he's with Touya, doesn't it?" Isumi said.

"Doesn't it bother *you*?" Waya said, pointing a French fry at his friend like a dagger. "I don't like seeing him throw his life away on that guy!"

"Maybe if we got him to talk about something other than Touya . . ."

Isumi didn't want to say it out loud, but he knew that having Hikaru talk about something other than Touya was the one way they'd be able to have lunch. The relationship bothered him as well, but for a different reason than it bothered Waya.

Isumi had been raised in a rather conventional, traditional household. Things like homosexuality were never spoken of. They weren't put down -- it was just as if they didn't exist.

He was afraid he'd act too awkward around Shindou and betray that he wasn't comfortable with his choice -- was it a choice? Could someone control whether they were straight or gay?

"He never talked about anything but Touya even *before* they -- well, you know!" Waya said, picking up his burger.

"I do miss him sometimes," Isumi said quietly, picking up his soda.

Waya chewed his burger. He had to admit to himself that he missed Shindou, too. Missed him terribly, in fact.

But he couldn't be with him as a friend until Hikaru got his head back on straight, got his life back together and realized that a *rival* wasn't the same as -- a boyfriend? A lover? What the hell did one call what Shindou and Touya were to each other?

*Okay, so I'm not a hundred percent okay with the gay part,* Waya thought. *But I wouldn't mind it so much if he found a *decent* guy.*

"Do you think things will ever be the same again?" Isumi said.

Waya considered this question. Could they pick up where they left off if Hikaru dumped Akira tomorrow? It had been so long since they hung out . . .

He answered, truthfully, "I don't know."

* * *

Akira left the community center where he'd been giving a lesson. He figured he had a half hour to spend in the library before he had to be home.

Yoshida-sensei hadn't said anything to him today about the previous day's conversation. *I hope it stays that way,* Akira thought, as one hand slipped down into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He didn't want to have the teacher asking him day after day if he was all right, if there were problems with his family.

He flipped the phone open and accessed his speed dial directory. Most of the numbers there were Go-related -- the Institute, various students. The first number on the list, of course, was Hikaru's cell.

But that wasn't the number he dialed now.

"Hello, Touya residence," said the female voice on the other end.

"Mother," Akira said, "it's Akira.

"Akira!" she said. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing fine. We're settled in."

"Oh, that's nice. Ogata-san was just asking about you this morning, he said he hasn't seen you in a few days. How is school?"

"School is fine. Mother, can I speak to Father for a moment?"

"Your father isn't here," she said. "He's out giving a lecture. I'll tell him you called, though."

"Thank you," Akira said. *He won't call back,* he thought. *He hasn't returned any of my calls since I moved out.*

"You did give us your new number, right?"

"Yes, I did," Akira said. "I have to go now, I have some things to do for school -- I'll talk to you later."

He closed the cell phone slowly, a small ache in his heart.

*He's never there,* he thought. *Is he avoiding talking to me? He was away from home a lot before I left, but -- I don't remember him being away this much.*

As he walked up the path to the library, he remembered walking up this very street with his father, holding his hand, being taken to the community center to enroll in his very first Go class, the one where he'd encountered Shindou's ex-classmate, Kaga.

*Why can't you see how much this relationship means to me, Father?* he thought. *Why should it matter to you whether I ended up with a man or a woman, as long as I'm happy and my game is the same as it always was?*

He clutched the phone tightly, as if he could hold onto something he felt slipping away from him.

Then, he set his jaw and stood up straighter, his eyes taking on their steely, game-face look. His father was going to *have* to accept his relationship with Shindou. They'd been too close over the years, bonded by their game. They couldn't throw it away. They just couldn't.

*I'll just have to be patient until he's willing to listen to me,* Akira thought.

And he continued up the path to the library.

* * *

Hikaru was moving much slower as he came up the subway steps than he had going down.

*Gods, I still don't believe I managed to squeak by in that game,* he thought. *I was just lucky I spotted that mistake he made toward the end, or I wouldn't have won at all.*

He knew he'd had a hard time concentrating. The damn undone housework had been at the back of his mind the whole time.

*Why the heck am I letting something like that bother me?* he thought. *I managed to play Go through a lot worse than that!*

He fished in his pocket for his keys. He hoped that Akira had gotten home before him, that he had started dinner already, and *maybe* got some of the housework done.

And then, he saw a familiar figure waiting by the door of the apartment house, and it *wasn't* Akira.

"Mom?" Hikaru said. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to see your new apartment," she said, following him through the front door. "You haven't shown it to me yet."

"That's because we just moved in," Hikaru said a bit testily as he went to the elevator and jabbed at the button. *Great,* he thought. *She's the last thing I want to see today.* "And we have things to do tonight, anyway."

"I'll just be here a little while," she said, stepping on the elevator after him.

"Why do you want to see the place to begin with?" Hikaru said.

"Because it's *your* apartment, and I want to see where my own son is living!"

As they stepped off the elevator, Hikaru was hoping to see Kyoko, Okawa-san, anybody he could foist his mother off on for a few minutes. He saw nobody.

"Fine," he said, unlocking the door. "But I don't want to hear anything about how it looks!"

As they walked through the doorway, his mother looked around, taking in the size of the living room, then walked over and peered in the kitchen. "Oh, my," she said. "I had no idea it was this big!"

"Yeah, well, most of the apartments in this building are this size," Hikaru said, going to the sink to get himself a drink of water. When he walked back into the living room, he groaned inwardly -- his mother was starting to pick up the notebooks and magazines scattered on the floor.

"Mom, you don't have to do that."

"I want to," she said. "Hikaru, are you *sure* you can do this? It looks like you don't have time to clean up."

"I'm gonna make time!" he said. "I just haven't had time *now* because we just moved in!"

"I really don't see how two boys who have such busy schedules would have time for . . ."

She picked something up from the table and suddenly paused. Hikaru saw what it was, and his blood turned to ice. She was holding their tube of lubricant, left there from the night before.

His hand shot out like a lion tamer's whip and snatched it away from her. "I *told* you that you didn't have to do that!" he said.

His mother just stood there, looking uncomfortable, blushing slightly. The object in Hikaru's hand had just confirmed the one fact of her son's new life that she didn't want to think about, that she wanted to pretend didn't exist.

She dealt with this by rushing over to the bookshelves and beginning to tidy a stack of papers on the top. "How *can* you afford this place, anyway?" she said. "What are you earning from Go? Two million yen tops?"

"Mom," Hikaru said, "together, Akira and I will earn about a hundred million yen this year."

She nearly dropped Akira's old junior high Go tournament award on the floor. "What are they paying you the extra for?" she said. "Cleaning the tournament rooms afterward?"

Hikaru was going to answer when Akira walked in the door -- and stopped short, eyes widening with surprise. "Oh, hello, Shindou-san," he said, bowing politely.

"Hello, Touya-kun," she said, putting the award back on the shelf and bowing back. "I was just telling Hikaru how lovely your place is."

"We like it, also," Akira said. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." He headed for the kitchen, and Hikaru followed.

As soon as they were through the door, Akira whispered, loudly, "You didn't tell me your mother was coming over tonight!"

"I didn't *know* she was coming!" Hikaru whispered back. "I came home and she was right there on the doorstep!"

"Is she staying for dinner?"

"How should I know?" Hikaru replied. "For all I know, she's planning on moving in with us!"

Just then, his mother appeared in the doorway. "Hikaru? Are you boys starting dinner?"

"Not yet," Hikaru said, thinking, *Please don't say you're staying, please don't say you're staying, please don't say you're staying . . .*

"Well, in that case, why don't I cook a dinner for you boys?" she said.

"No, no, that's all right, Shindou-san," Akira said, waving his hands dismissively. "Hikaru and I can do it on our own."

"I insist," she said. "I'm here anyway." And she breezed past them, taking a pot down from the pot rack.

"Mom, he *said* you don't have to," Hikaru said.

"It won't take long," his mother replied. "I'm going to do the ramen that you like."

"Fine," Hikaru said, leaving the kitchen and going back into the living room, where he flung himself onto the couch, lying flat on his back with his arms folded behind his head.

*I moved out to get away from this kind of thing, and to be with Akira,* he thought. *Why is she insisting on barging in here and trying to run my life?*

Akira walked quietly into the living room, glanced over at Hikaru and then sat in the chair, reaching into his book bag and pulling out a sheaf of kifu -- the last five games played by the opponent he would be facing the next day. He started to study them, but paused when he heard Hikaru's mother banging around in the kitchen.

*Shindou can't get rid of his mother,* he thought. *And my father has vanished from sight.*

Akira looked at the stack of kifu in his hands again. *I need to win this game, and all the games after,* he thought. *Not by small margins, by big ones. I have to make my father see that being with Shindou hasn't changed me at all, as a person or as a player.*

He began studying again, trying to recreate the game in front of him in his mind, get a feel for the other player -- his style of play, his typical attacks and counterattacks, which part of the game he was strongest in.

Akira needed a battle plan, not just a strategy.

*I hope she leaves after dinner,* he thought. *I *need* to play against Shindou tonight. I need the warmup.*

The room remained in silence until Shindou Mitsuko stuck her head out of the kitchen, saying, "All right, boys, it's ready!"

The two of them walked into the room, sitting down at the table. Hikaru's mother was dishing out three bowls of the soup. "You're eating with us?" Hikaru said.

"Of course," his mother replied, setting bowls in front of the boys. "Your father isn't going to be home until late tonight. I'll just take some home to him."

*Great,* Hikaru thought. *That means she's going to hang around *after* dinner as well.* He looked over at Akira, who had his jaw set, eyes expressionless.

"You know, I was talking to Akari yesterday," Hikaru's mother said, picking up some noodles. "She was asking about you, Hikaru."

Hikaru looked up from his own food. "She was?" He felt a small pang of guilt -- he hadn't spoken to Akari in quite some time, definitely not since they were outed.

"She's doing very well in school," Shindou Mitsuko said.

"Did she say anything about the Go club?" Hikaru said.

"No, she didn't." Hikaru's mother picked up a piece of pork and nibbled at it delicately.

"Aww, you should have asked," Hikaru grumbled, digging back into his ramen. *I have to call her,* he thought. *I want to know how all of them are doing -- whether Kaga is still trying to become a Shougi pro, if they've been in any tournaments, whether she ever got together with Mitani . . .*

"Well, I didn't know she was in Go club," his mother said.

"Yes, you did!" Hikaru said. "She came over to play Go with me! More than once!"

"Such a nice girl," Shindou Mitsuko sighed, gazing dreamily off into space. "She'll make someone a wonderful wife someday . . ."

Hikaru nearly choked on his noodles. He looked over at Akira, who was eating quietly, his expression as unreadable as ever.

With his mother, it was hard to tell whether she really meant that as a dig at Akira or not.

If it bothered Akira, he wasn't showing it. He said, calmly, "Have you seen our entire apartment yet, Shindou-san?"

"Just the front room and this kitchen. I . . . I don't really need to see the rest of it."

*Meaning she doesn't want to look at our bedroom,* Hikaru thought, slurping up a large quantity of noodles.

"Your son picked out a lot of the furniture," Akira said, spooning up some of the broth.

"Oh, and he *always* hated to go shopping,* said Hikaru's mother. "I took him and Akari to the store one time -- Akari was his oldest friend, you know, they've known each other since they were small kids, everyone always thought they'd get married someday . . ."

Hikaru picked up a crab leg with his chopsticks and broke it with a loud *crack*. At that moment, he was wishing that sound was something whalloping his mother over the head.

Akira just picked up his tea and sipped at it -- but Hikaru noticed Akira was avoiding looking at his mother's face.

*That must have hurt him,* he thought.

"Well, they both ended up hiding from me because neither one wanted to go shopping. They always got up to no good, those two . . ."

"I'm sure they did," Akira said, a bit too smoothly.

Hikaru just buried his face in his ramen, eating furiously. He knew if he said anything right now, it would result in a fight. He didn't want to fight with his mother. He just wanted her to *go home*.

"Do you have enough groceries?" his mother was saying. "I could make a quick run down to Mitsuwa before they close . . ."

"We're fine, Mom," Hikaru said, his face still buried in his bowl.

"I certainly hope you're eating something other than instant stuff."

"We are," Akira said, gently picking up a bunch of noodles. "I'm making sure of that."

"Did I mention Akari said she was taking a cooking class?"

Hikaru buried his face deeper in his bowl. It was going to be a long meal.

* * *

The boys were sitting on the couch as Hikaru's mother brought out a platter with three teacups on it.

"I could run down and get some cakes if you want dessert," she said.

"Mom, we don't *need* dessert," Hikaru sighed.

"Well, if you change your mind a bit later . . ." she said, sitting down and picking up her own cup.

Hikaru groaned and sank down in his chair. *A bit later?* he thought. *She's going to stay all night! We're not going to get a chance to play!*

"Actually, Shindou-san, we're going to be playing a game a bit later," Akira said. Hikaru nearly kissed him for that on the spot -- except he knew if he did, his mother would probably have a coronary.

Shindou Mitsuko set her cup down, blinking in surprise. "I didn't know the Go Institute had night games."

"They don't," Akira said. "We play each other every night. It's how we keep our skills up."

Hikaru's mother frowned. "Why do you have to play Go? Isn't that what you've been doing all day?"

"This is different," Hikaru said. "It's, well . . ."

How could he possibly explain to her that playing Akira was different than playing anyone else? That they had a dynamic that was all their own, that they pushed each other, challenged each other, like no other person could?

"It's a kind of teaching Go," Akira said. "Only we're teaching each other."

"Teaching Go?" Shindou Mitsuko said, her cup paused halfway to her mouth, a quizzical look on her face.

"It's a kind of game," Hikaru said. "You're not going all-out on the person, you're just . . ."

"And you do this *every night?*" she said.

"Yes, we do," Hikaru said, before taking a slurp from his cup. "No matter what."

"Go really does mean more to you than anything, doesn't it?" Shindou Mitsuko said, quietly.

There was a long pause. Hikaru and Akira just looked at each other, not knowing what to say.

"Never mind," his mother said. "I'll just finish my tea, pack up the soup for your father -- you *do* have a container of some sort, right? -- and then I'll be going."

"I'll get a container," Akira said, getting up off the couch.

When he left, Hikaru suddenly felt a bit guilty -- he'd wanted her to leave, but they'd just driven her out. "Mom . . ." he said.

She waved a hand dismissively. "It's all right, Hikaru. Your father's going to be home soon, anyway."

Akira brought the Tupperware container in a plastic shopping bag. "Here you are, Shindou-san," he said.

"Thank you, Akira," she said, finishing her tea and standing up. "Well, I was glad to see your place." She bowed. "Good night."

"Good night," Akira said, bowing in return. Hikaru just said, "'Night" from his place on the couch.

Shindou Mitsuko left the apartment and headed for the elevator. She was deep in thought.

She'd come there to see if he was doing all right, if he was managing, if he was having second thoughts about his relationship with Touya Akira -- and, she admitted, looking for signs that he was ready to give it up and come home.

She found none. In fact, she was now convinced that her boy was gone from her home for good.

*Now I understand,* she thought. *Now I know why Hikaru insisted on this relationship, unnatural as it may be. Hikaru doesn't want a *person*. He could never be married. Because he's married to his game.*

And as another player -- as the player he'd chased for years -- being with Touya was as close to marrying his game as he could get.

She knew that Hikaru was lost to her, to their family, the day he first put a stone down on a piece of wood. She didn't understand Go, despite the fact that her father-in-law was fascinated with it. She didn't think she ever would. But it was Hikaru's life now. Not just part of it -- his *whole* life.

*There's nothing to do now,* she thought, *but accept this, and move on.*

But she still had tears on her cheeks as she walked home.

* * *

Hikaru closed the door and leaned against it, his hands clenched into fists, his jaw set.

"I can't believe she just invited herself over like that," he said. "Just invited herself over! She took over the house!"

"You *did* invite her in," Akira said, calmly.

"I didn't think she was gonna start tearing up the living room and inviting herself to dinner!" Hikaru flopped back down on the couch.

Akira looked down into his teacup, thinking again about the differences in their situations -- one boy with a parent who was avoiding him, the other with a parent who wouldn't leave him alone.

"Let's just go play," Hikaru said.

Akira nodded and finished his tea. They headed for the Go room, settling into their customary places on either side of the board.

*My mother never saw this room,* Hikaru thought. *I didn't want her to see this any more than I wanted her to see the bedroom.* He knew that what went on between them in one room was, in a way, just as intimate as what went on between them in the other.

Akira dropped a handful of white stones onto the board, and Hikaru put up two black ones. Akira counted through the stones. "You're black," he said.

They took their proper go kes, bowed and gave the customary greeting, and Hikaru placed his first stone toward the bottom left. Akira considered the move for a moment, then put his own near the top right corner.

*Gods, what a day,* Hikaru thought. *The game was almost a disaster, Waya and Isumi are still uncomfortable around me, and then I come home to find my *mother* . . .*

He grabbed the next stone out of the bowl rapidly and slammed it to the board with a noise more like a *crack* than the traditional *pachi*. Akira looked up in surprise.

"Are you all right?" he said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"If you'd rather not play right now . . ."

"I *said* I was fine!" Hikaru snapped.

Akira picked up his next stone and placed it at the opposite side of the board from his first. He regarded his rival's stance, the way he was scowling at the board.

Hikaru was tense. And not in a good, up-for-the-game way. The kind of tension that made you not be able to get to sleep at night.

As the game took shape, Akira was sure of it. Hikaru was playing an *angry* game, fiercely attacking Akira's stones everywhere and every way he could, without a thought to shoring up his own.

*He's not going to last long at this rate,* he thought.

But Hikaru kept playing, long after the point where Akira thought he should have resigned. It was like he wanted to be sure he got in every last blow to Akira's fortresses that he could.

Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "I resign."

Akira bowed. "Thank you for the game."

Hikaru sat back, looking at the board. "Okay, I know why I lost. You don't have to tell me. I was careless in the corners, I left everything unguarded . . ."

*And if we discuss the game, we'll fight,* Akira thought. *It's the last thing he needs right now.*

"Why don't we talk about it later?" Akira said.

Hikaru blinked, looking back up at Akira with a startled expression. This was the only time he could remember that Akira didn't want to discuss the game in meticulous detail!

"Touya?" he said.

Akira reached over and took Hikaru's hand. "I think what you need right now is a massage. You're really tense. It showed in your game."

"I am not!" Hikaru said -- but he knew Akira was right. His whole body felt like a bowstring drawn to maximum tightness, and he still felt that if he had his mother in front of him, he'd deck her.

"Come in the other room," Akira said, "and get undressed."

Hikaru followed him, yanking off his shirt as he went, then unfastening his jeans. He shed what remained before flopping onto the bed face-down.

Akira opened the drawer in their bedside table, feeling around for the bottle of aromatherapy massage oil he knew was there. He'd bought the oil at a bath products specialty store just before moving in while getting the special deep conditioner he used on his hair once a week. He'd figured it was something they might want to have on hand.

He just didn't think he'd be using it so soon.

Akira poured oil onto his hands and rubbed them together, then pressed on Hikaru's shoulders, sliding down toward his hips, then up again. He started rubbing in small circles. "How's that?" he said.

Hikaru let out a small purring sound -- his lover's fingers were beginning to smooth out the tired, tense muscles. As he began pressing a little harder, Hikaru found himself stretching like a cat, luxuriating under the attention.

"Good," he murmured.

Akira smiled quietly as he reached for the bottle of oil, pouring a little bit into his hand, then going back to rubbing, moving his hands lower, working down toward his hips.

Then, just when Hikaru thought he was going to feel Akira's hands on his bottom, he moved down further, so he was grasping the boy's calves. Hikaru let out a small groan of disappointment.

Akira squeezed Hikaru's legs, sliding upward bit by bit. Oh, he felt good -- all that running up and down subway stairs and hiking to and from the Go Institute and Go salons had toned his muscles nicely.

As he reached his thighs, he let his thumbs slide down so they were brushing the sensitive flesh on the insides, hearing Hikaru's moan in response. He saw the boy's bottom arch up toward him slightly, mutely begging for his touch.

He took the bottle again and poured oil directly onto Hikaru's bottom, leaning over so he could rub with both hands in wide circles, moving up and down, then grasping both cheeks and squeezing.

Hikaru pressed his fist against his mouth, breathing heavily, feeling a warm sensation shoot through his whole body. "Akira," he murmured.

Akira let his fingers trail along the cleft, pushing one just slightly between them, teasing and tantalizing the other boy . . . then went back to rubbing the firm curves in circles. He bit his lip, feeling hot desire starting to build in his own body -- but he had to keep control.

He had plans for Hikaru.

Quickly, Akira stripped off his own clothing, folding each piece and draping it on the arm of the chair. Picking up the bottle, he drizzled oil on his lover's bottom, moving up over his back, to his shoulders. Then, he moved down so his chest was level with Hikaru's bottom.

The next thing Hikaru felt was Akira sliding up, bit by bit, his chest passing over his buttocks, then up his back, until his erection was pressing maddeningly against his cleft -- pushing between the cheeks just enough for Hikaru to feel it.

Hikaru started to move against him, but Akira was sliding down again, his skin slipping easily over the other boy's thanks to the oil. He moved in circles, his torso massaging Hikaru's back as he worked up, then down, his manhood just barely touching Hikaru's sensitive flesh from time to time.

"Aaaahhh," Hikaru gasped, starting to move along with Akira, grinding their bodies together in something of an inverted lap dance. When Akira slid up again, Hikaru thrust his bottom upward, hard, moving it in circles as Akira leaned over to nibble on his earlobe.

"Good?" Akira whispered.

"Yes . . . ohh, gods, yes . . ." Hikaru moaned.

Akira slid back -- and off, this time, sitting back with his legs folded under him as if he were about to play a game. Both boys were panting heavily, their skin flushed.

He knew he was going to have to wait a moment and let them both cool down. He didn't want them to get *too* close to coming yet. There was still more he wanted to do.

After what felt like eons to Hikaru, Akira patted Hikaru's bottom, indicating that he was to turn over. Hikaru obeyed, giving Akira a lovely view of a full erection. He grasped the oil bottle again and drizzled some of its contents on Hikaru's stomach.

Akira looked at his lover's face -- eyes closed, slightly flushed, lips parted -- and had an urge to lean over and kiss him. No, he didn't want to do that just yet.

Placing his palms flat on the other boy's belly, he slid upward, stopping when the tips of his fingers were just south of his nipples, then moved back down, until the heels of his hands were just north of his groin area. He moved up again, to the same point he'd been before . . . paused a moment . . . then let his fingers creep up a tiny bit, a mere centimeter, and Hikaru tensed up, waiting for the touch on his sensitive flesh.

But the hands moved down again, and Hikaru let out a small whimper, raising his hips in a thrusting motion. Akira paused at the bottom of the trail again, too, massaging in small circles, moving downward a tiny amount.

Then, he took his hands away entirely. Hikaru was going to yell "What the hell are you doing?" when he saw Akira lower his head. Now *this* was more like it! He lay back, preparing to feel the warm wetness of Akira's mouth.

What he felt instead was something silky and soft trailing along his shaft, sending a fast jolt of pleasure through him, making him jump and cry out. Whatever it was, it was brushing upward along his erection, then rubbing back and forth on the head, then back down again, giving just the lightest brush to the sac beneath, then moving upward again.

Hikaru groaned loudly, starting to writhe on the bed, wondering what the hell Akira was using on him that felt so good, no, so *incredible*. He raised his head, opened his eyes -- and saw that the other boy was leaning his head over him, moving it slowly back and forth, but not making flesh-to-flesh contact.

The incredible feeling was Akira's *hair*.

"Oh, GODS!" Hikaru cried, leaning back, arching upward as Akira began to move faster, brushing back and forth against him in waves of silky sensation. He raised his head, gathered one clump of hair in his hand and began to use it like a paintbrush, stroking around and around the tip of Hikaru's erection, then moving down, then back up again.

Hikaru clutched at the sheets, feeling his body start to tense . . . gods, where did this come from? Akira wasn't usually this adventurous . . . but where he got it from didn't matter. What did matter was this was going on, and on, the satiny hair sliding along his length again, then moving down to the sac, brushing around and around on it this time.

Then, the hair was gone, and Akira's lips were kissing his right nipple, then his left, then pushing against Hikaru's with a fierce urgency. Hikaru rose to meet them, and the boys shifted so they were both sitting up, arms wrapped tightly around each other as their lips opened, Hikaru's tongue thrusting into Akira's mouth as their bodies pressed together, chest rubbing on chest, hands running along each other's backs.

Hikaru tumbled Akira backwards, moving down to his right nipple, taking it in his lips and sucking hard, letting up the pressure so his tongue could lap at the hardening bud, then starting to suck again. He moved to the other one, which he licked with long, slow strokes.

"Aaaahhh," Akira gasped, tangling his fingers in Hikaru's hair, pushing downward. When he felt the other boy start to lick a trail down his stomach, he gasped in anticipation.

Hikaru moved rapidly down to Akira's erection and took it in his mouth, pushing it in deeply -- too deep. He fell back, choking.

Akira raised his head. "Are you okay?"

Hikaru swallowed hard. Okay, so the moment was ruined. Temporarily. Well, he could make up for it, couldn't he?

And instead of answering, he leaned over and took it in again, going slower this time, sucking hard and letting his fingers trail up Akira's body, feeling for his nipples. Akira grasped Hikaru's hands and guided them to their intended destination, moaning as he felt the caressing and stroking, coupled with Hikaru's head moving faster, the hot wetness drawing him in, pulsing around him in short, rapid sucks, then long, hard ones.

"Yes," Akira moaned. "Yes, Hikaru, ohhh, you're so good at that . . ."

The more Hikaru sucked, the more the heat grew in his own aching manhood. He wanted to come, he wanted Akira to come with him, but he didn't want to have to wait for the lubing-and-opening process . . .

Then, he remembered the bottle. He pulled away from Akira, grabbed the oil and poured a generous amount on Akira's erection, then his own.

Akira raised his head. "Hikaru! What are you . . ."

"Same thing you did before," Hikaru said. "Just a little different."

Hikaru lay full-length on Akira, silencing him with a kiss and positioning himself so their erections were pressing against each other. Akira felt a jolt at the slightest touch, the slightest brush.

Then, Hikaru started to thrust his hips, shaft rubbing against shaft, sending electric heat racing through both boys, making them both let out long, low moans. Akira rolled them both so he was on top, and he felt Hikaru's legs wrap around his hips as he moved faster, wanting more friction, more contact, more heat.

Akira tossed his head back, his hair falling softly around his shoulders as he moaned, knowing he was getting close, so very close, he just needed a little more. He slid a hand between their bodies, along Hikaru's chest, finding a nipple and taking it between his thumb and forefinger.

Hikaru felt the sudden jolt of pleasure, and it touched off an eruption deep in his soul, making him cry out loudly as he was shook by long, hot shudders, a hard, intense one followed by a small, shivery one, and then another, and then another.

As he fell limp on the bed, somewhere, dimly, he felt and heard Akira tense up, then shout his name as his body trembled, stiffened, then trembled again. Finally, the other boy's weight crushed down on him, and they held onto each other tightly as the final aftershocks subsided.

Their lips came together in a sweet, long kiss, after which they snuggled into each other's arms.

"Now, are you going to make fun of my hair care stuff from now on?" Akira said.

It took a moment for this to sink into Hikaru's pleasure-fogged mind. And then, he knew what his lover was talking about.

He closed his eyes and said, "Not anymore."

* * *

Akira and Hikaru were leaving the apartment together the next day, heading toward the elevator, when they ran into Kyoko in the hall.

"Oh, hi," she said. "Are we still on for tonight?"

Akira looked puzzled. "Tonight?"

"Um, I forgot to tell you," Hikaru said, rubbing the back of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. "Suzuhara-san and her husband invited us for dinner tonight."

Akira whirled toward Hikaru. "And you *forgot* to tell me this?"

Kyoko looked uncomfortable. "Um, if it's not a good night . . ."

"No, it's fine," Akira said, bowing. "Thank you very much for inviting us."

"So, shall we say seven o'clock?" she said.

"Can we make it seven thirty?" Akira said. "I have a game today, and I want to make sure I'm there on time.

"All right," she said. "Seven thirty it is." She waved at them as she headed for their own apartment and said, "See ya!"

The elevator arrived, and the boys stepped into it. "Shindou, how long did you know about this invitation and you didn't tell me?"

"Hey, she just invited me yesterday morning! I wasn't exactly expecting to find my mother on the doorstep when we got home!"

"You could have told me after she left!" Akira said, reaching up and beginning to fiddle with his collar.

"And you don't seem to remember what happened after she left, either, do you?" Hikaru said, folding his arms.

Unfortunately, he said this just as the doors opened up. There were two young women waiting to go upstairs. Of course, there was no way they could have known exactly what Hikaru meant -- but Akira turned crimson anyway, and hustled out of the elevator as fast as he could.

As they were on their way down the front steps, the hulking man who had been nasty to Hikaru before was on his way up. He accidentally brushed shoulders with Akira. The boy quickly turned, bowed and said, "I'm sorry."

The man sneered. "Look where you're going, why don't you, faggot?"

Akira was stunned. He'd had to endure a lot of whispering behind his back ever since he and Hikaru were outed, but it was the first time someone had said *that* to his face.

And it hurt. More than he thought something like that would. The pain quickly flared into anger.

"You can call me anything else," he said, "but I will *not* tolerate being called that!"

"Yeah, whatever," the man said, making a dismissive gesture and disappearing into the building.

Akira just stood rooted to the spot for a moment, hands clenched, giving the door his iciest stare, as if it were a tough opponent. Then he whirled around so quickly his hair bannered out around him and stalked off toward the subway, right past Hikaru.

* * *

He was still shaking slightly when he got to the Go Institute. He knew he couldn't afford to -- any interruption to his concentration at all could be fatal to his game.

*I'll be fine once I'm actually in the playing room and get my hands on the stones,* he thought as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button.

The doors opened, and he headed straight for the anteroom, not bothering to stop in the players' lounge. He noticed Ashiwara storing his own shoes in preparation for a game.

"Hello, Akira-kun," he said. "How are things?"

"Oh, we're settling into the new apartment fine," Akira said, sitting down to pull off his shoes. "And I'm still going to school."

"That's a lot to handle all at once," the older pro said. "When I got my own first apartment, I don't think I would have been able to handle school *and* playing. I spent more time trying to figure out how the radiator worked than anything else!"

"So far, I can handle it," Akira said. "Although there was one teacher who was concerned about me."

"Well, if it ever gets to be too much," Ashiwara said as they headed into the playing room, "you *can* drop school, you know. There's no need for you to go."

"I'm going because I *want* to," Akira replied, as he studied the board assignments.

"Your father tried the same thing, you know," the other player said as the two walked toward their boards.

Akira stopped in his tracks. "I never knew that," he said.

"He never told you? He told most of us in the study group about it. He lasted two years in high school and then pulled out. When he did that, his Go career *really* took off."

Akira swallowed hard. He didn't want to think about his father on top of what had happened at the apartment. "Ashiwara-san, I'd like to get ready for my game now, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," the older player said. "I have to do the same thing." He gave a small wave. "Have a good game!"

"You too," Akira said.

He walked over to his assigned place and knelt on the cusion. Opening one of the Go kes, he stuck his hand inside, withdrawing a stone and slapping it down to the board.

The feel of the smooth, cold playing piece between his fingers and the sound of stone hitting wood were like medicine to him. He pulled out a second stone and lay it near the first.

Now he was begining to settle in, to focus, to get into his element. Behind a goban was where he *belonged*. It was a home to him, maybe more so than either the house he'd grown up in or his apartment.

He breathed deeply and concentrated. He imagined the empty board filling up with stones, forming patterns of black and white that represented a series of battles over territory.

The kifu he had studied the day before leapt into his mind, and he began envisioning his opponent's previous games, wondering which of the moves he had used before would be duplicated in this one. He mentally ran through a series of moves, envisioning how he would counter each one, what kind of strategies he could develop.

His problems were way behind him. He was *in the zone* and ready to play.

The sound of footsteps signaled the arrival of his opponent for the day. He stood up, bowed politely, and fixed the other man with the iciest, most intense stare in his arsenal. The other man looked uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other, fiddling with his wristwatch.

Akira was satisfied. He had already taken his first step toward winning.


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Hikaru no Go is property of Yumi Hotta, Takeshi Obata and Shueisha. No profit is being made from this fanfic.