Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ Sequence ❯ The Start ( Chapter 2 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: spiritore 
Yashiro makes a phone call, Akira and Hikaru talk, Akira starts plotting, and Yashiro and Hikaru play.
Anime/Manga: Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 04.26.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 914 | Status: Work In Progress
Yashiro makes a phone call, Akira and Hikaru talk, Akira starts plotting, and Yashiro and Hikaru play.
Anime/Manga: Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 04.26.2004 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.4K | Visits: 914 | Status: Work In Progress
Type: fanfiction
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Title: Sequence 1/?
Rating: PG-13 in the long run
Pairings: future Hikaru/Akira
Disclaimer: Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I am not them. I do not own Hikaru no Go.
Comments: Yashiro makes a phone call and Hikaru and Akira talk . . . followed by Akira plotting his heart out.
Kiyoharu is Yashiro’s first name.
Thanks to the lovely Chevira and Middles for betaing this for me again. My main beta is adrift with no comp, but if she ever gets back, she can have at this all she wants. Any mistakes you find are all mine!
I should probably go through this and code certain things in italics, but I’m tired and I still haven’t finished packing. I shall be writing this in long hand from now one, due to work and no access to a computer except on my days off. Hopefully, I won’t be too long between parts.
And thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed. *waves* C&C is always welcome.
The body on the bed was a disjointed and unstrung marionette, its long limbs sprawled every which way, bed sheets twisted about its torso, and its head planted face first into a pillow. A tanned hand hung off the edge of the bed, its fingers loosely snarled in the edge of a blanket. A muffled snore came from somewhere between the pillow and the face and Hikaru stifled a laugh.
He had been checking to see if Yashiro was anything near awake, but apparently not. Well, he would just have to leave his guest a note since Hikaru was going out shortly.
“Lucky you,” he muttered to himself, shutting the door. Yashiro didn’t have to get up and go to a demonstration that was scheduled far too early in the morning to be sane.
Then again, Yashiro had other difficulties, didn’t he?
It was strange how Yashiro seemed taller laying down this morning than he had last night, when Hikaru had answered the door to find him with his shoulders slumped forward; a dull look in his eyes. Hikaru had walked Akari to the station only an hour earlier, after she had bossed him around for a period of time until everything was clean to her satisfaction. That included cleaning his own room -- Akari had given him a horrified look when she had seen it -- and doing laundry.
But somehow, when Hikaru had opened that door to greet Yashiro, he doubted that his fellow pro would have even noticed if boxes were still crowded in the bedroom. The other boy had blankly stated his thanks and eventually started nodding off over the dinner that Hikaru had saved for him, his face pale and worn as a faded ghost. When the silence between them had grown too loud and Yashiro had taken too close a dip towards his plate of food, Hikaru had shuffled his friend off to bed, despite his mumbled protests.
Those protests hadn’t lasted long though. As soon as Yashiro’s head had touched the pillow, he was out like a light.
And he showed no sign of waking even now. Yesterday had to have been an exhausting day for Yashiro.
Finding a suitable piece of paper and pencil, Hikaru scribbled down a note to leave on the counter.
“Done!” he announced triumphantly, pulling his hand away and placing the pencil down.
That was one thing accomplished out of several things to do.
Next was the demonstration . . . after he stopped somewhere to get something for breakfast. Due to his waiting for Yashiro last night, he hadn’t gone to a store to buy more food.
And after that he would have to face Touya.
Placing his face against the cool tile of the counter, Hikaru groaned.
*****
The phone wasn’t supposed to be considered a monster. It wasn’t going to eat him or tear off his arms or rip his heart out while bearing sharp white teeth and stinking of gym socks. Kiyoharu knew that, but he couldn’t help eyeing the innocent machine like it was going to tear him into pieces.
On second thought, it wasn’t the phone that would destroy him; it was what would be on the other side of the line if he made a certain call.
A call that he had to make, because despite what had happened they were still his parents. Even if they had kicked him out, his mother with her blank face and tired eyes and his father with his cold fury and sharp words. They didn’t deserve to know where he was -- if he was safe -- said his anger, not after they had pushed him away and tried to stomp on his dreams. He had worked so hard to please them and he had been so determined to show them that he could succeed as a professional Go player. Despite his efforts to pursue his dreams and give them comfort at still attending school, they had pushed too far. They hadn’t believed in him and they hadn’t acted in any way that he felt parents should. Not one word of encouragement.
Kiyoharu felt his stomach roll and bitterness ride on the back of his tongue. He didn’t need to tell them where he was. He didn’t have to call them.
But that dutiful side of him and the parts of him that had always been eager for a word of praise, told him to call. In spite of their actions, they were his parents and he was their son.
He didn’t want to acknowledge them right now, maybe not ever, but if he didn’t he would be no better than them.
His hands were damp with sweat and he wiped them off on his jeans, taking in a deep breath and picking up the phone. If he thought about it any longer, he would never be able to do it.
The phone ringed dully and Kiyoharu closed his eyes, promising himself to stay collected, while he waited for someone to pick up. No one did and the cheery sound of his mother’s voice on the answering machine was the only answer he got. She sounded so normal, just like when she asked him how his day went after school, and he had to fight against the heavy weight in his chest. Her voice ended and three beeps sounded.
He sat frozen for a second before forcing himself to speak. “I’m not sure if you want to know . . . but I’m fine.” What a lie. “I’m at a friend’s house and I’ll be here for a while.”
And then he hung up, without a goodbye and without leaving a way for them to contact him. Maybe he would call them back up another day and do so, but not today. He was grateful that only the answering machine had greeted him, something without feelings that wouldn’t talk back to him and break him down.
Kiyoharu collected himself and lurched back onto his feet. He was hungry and Shindou was gone for most of the early afternoon, leaving him a note to help himself to the leftovers in the fridge -- why the leftovers? -- and anything else in the apartment, along with a spare key. Waking up only shortly before noon, Kiyoharu had been hungry, but had decided to attack his biggest hurdle of the day first.
Now that he was finished with it, he could move on to feeding himself.
Upon opening the refrigerator door, Kiyoharu found out why Shindou had only mentioned the leftovers in his note. It was because leftovers of last night’s takeout were the only things in the fridge. That is, if Kiyoharu ignored the few condiments on the shelves, not that he considered them anything near a meal. A search through the cupboards produced some tea and instant ramen.
“How do you survive on this stuff, Shindou?” he said, shutting the last cupboard door. “I’ll go to the store and get some actual food.”
Kiyoharu wasn’t planning on surviving off of ramen like Shindou apparently could. He didn’t think Touya would be too fond of it, either, when he moved in.
Touya Akira . . .
Kiyoharu had been aware that Touya was going to move in with Shindou, but it had escaped him that the 5-dan would be moving in tomorrow. It made him wonder if he would have called up Shindou for a place to stay if he had known that. Above all else, Kiyoharu did not want to become a nuisance and it could well be that his abrupt stay at Shindou’s could make him that.
It was too late to be considering that fact. If he left now, it was conceivable that Shindou would throw a fit and Kiyoharu had seen enough of them to know that while he would survive it, he wasn’t keen on spending several hours listening to the irate ravings of his friend.
Why was he still standing around? The food wasn’t going to buy itself.
Sighing, Kiyoharu snatched up the keys still laying on the counter and made to leave.
*****
Akira knew Shindou’s look of determination like he knew the lines upon a goban. Shindou’s mouth would become straight and firm, his eyes would turn into hard pieces of jade, and he would pull back his shoulders slightly, becoming more noticeable in presence. Shindou had a tendency to be overlooked by the majority of the public as just another normal teenager, an enthusiastic and loud teenager. It was only during games when Shindou dropped his cloak of youth and turned serious and dedicated. Akira was different. He had heard people who didn’t even know who he was remark upon ‘that serious young man’.
Akira always noticed Shindou. He was his rival. He was supposed to notice him. Though lately, he acknowledged to himself, he was noticing Shindou a little too much.
This time, Shindou’s determination had him concerned. His eternal rival faced no opponent over the goban and no reason for him to state one of his random goals. At least, Akira didn’t think there was one.
But still, Shindou was standing in front of him, looking prepared to face the hounds of hell, with his backpack still slung over his shoulder. Akira dared a quick glance at Ishikawa and she shrugged, bewildered.
That was no help.
“Touya.” Shindou gave his customary greeting.
“Shindou.”
Shindou frowned, stared at his feet, then the goban where Akira had been recreating a game he had played earlier, and finally brought his eyes to meet Akira’s. “Would you mind sharing a room with me?”
“Why?”
“Because Yashiro is sleeping in the smaller room. He’s staying at the apartment for a week or two.”
That was certainly unexpected and Akira had to think on it for a minute. “He’s staying over?”
It took several more questions to squeeze gather all the information that Shindou knew. He still had a few questions, but Shindou had no answers for him. If Yashiro had no place to go, Akira was not going to say no. “It’s all right if Yashiro stays. The apartment withstood Isumi-san, Waya-kun, and you living in it, I’m sure it can handle us.”
But would they be able to handle each other?
Shindou managed a shocked expression for a brief second and Akira wondered if he had expected more resistance from him. Did Shindou think that he would actually reject helping Yashiro? No, it couldn’t be that. Their friendship was of the fighting variety -- understandable with their rivalry and the arguments over games -- and it had ingrained in each of them the tendency to be overly-defensive when confronting the other.
Akira had noticed it in himself before and now he saw it in Shindou. The passion for Go ran through their veins and their confrontations were the points where their passion met. It wasn’t always fighting. There were times when they would sit over a goban and manage a quiet discussion, their hands grazing each other’s now and then as they gestured to different solutions. And then there were the times when Shindou would laugh and chatter away, grabbing Akira’s wrist in his callused grasp and hauling him off to do something not Go related.
Their relationship had altered so many times and it continued to do so, but at seventeen-years-old, Akira though he might finally know what it was for him. He would not presume Shindou’s feelings.
“Ah,” Shindou said, trying to find his words, “then do you want to room with me? Or I could room with Yashiro . . .”
“No!” That came out rather abrupt. Akira cleared his throat and took a moment to regain himself. “No, I don’t mind rooming with you.”
“Cool,” Shindou shifted and glanced towards the door. “I should get going. There’s nothing in the fridge and I need to check with Yashiro to see if he wants anything.”
Yashiro again. “Take him with you. He has enough sense to keep you from buying more ramen. It isn’t healthy to eat it all the time.”
“I don’t eat it all the time!”
“Right. Don’t you have to go shopping?”
“I’m going right now.” And Shindou strode his way to the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. I should be there late in the morning to move my stuff in.” Akira had dinner with his parents tonight.
“All right. You have your key, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll see you, then.” Shindou walked out the door.
Akira watched the closed door and before long, brought his eyes back to the goban. He had little to no point of staying now. Not without Shindou to play a game against. So it was time to head home and double-check to see if he had everything packed.
Shindou, Yashiro, and him in one apartment. They could deal with that. Shindou and him in one bedroom. Akira could think of more unpleasant circumstances and few situations that would be more pleasant. Or less than sane.
Gathering the stones, Akira started plotting.
*****
“Do you want to play a game?” Hikaru asked Yashiro, already shifting the goban into the center of the living area and pulling two pillows off of the couch.
Yashiro slid off of his chair, just recently finished with washing the dishes. “Sure.”
Hikaru took one of the go ke and set it at his side, while Yashiro plopped himself down across from him and grabbed the other. They both removed the lids silently. Hikaru had the white stones.
“How about ten second per hand speed Go?”
Smiling at his own suggestion, Hikaru observed Yashiro stiffening, then bringing his gaze to bare on him. “Are you trying to recreate last year when we prepared for the Hokuto Cup?”
“And the year before that.” Hikaru had participated in all three Hokuto Cups and he was the only one out of the first team to have done so. Touya and Yashiro had both missed one year. Due to a schedule conflict, Touya had missed out on the second year. The third year -- this year -- Yashiro had lost in the first round of the selection tournament. Hikaru had been confused on the why at the time, but now he assumed the loss had to something to do with Yashiro’s home life.
“Yeah. Those were fun nights. Except when you hit me with the fan the first year after I fell asleep and then Waya-kun tried to kill me when I woke him up.” Waya had been their third teammate for the second Hokuto Cup and he had not reacted kindly to Yashiro’s methods of waking those up who had fallen asleep while observing a game.
Hikaru laughed, “You deserved it both times. I only gave back what I got.”
“How is Waya doing in China?”
“He’s only been there a week, but he and Isumi-san called when they got there and a few days ago. He sounds like he’s having the time of his life and driving Isumi-san crazy.” Drawing his fingers across the smooth stones in the go ke, Hikaru smiled. “Isumi was worried about leaving me alone.”
“I can see where he was coming from.”
Was everyone trying to pick on him? He groaned.
“What?” Yashiro was smirking. “I cooked. You ate the food and it wasn’t ramen.”
“It’s nothing you deserve a trophy for.”
“Says you.” Leaning back, Yashiro raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a timer so we can start the game?”
Good question. Where had he put the timer? Hikaru peeked underneath the couch and immediately spotted the missing device. Pulling it out, he waved it triumphantly in front of Yashiro. “Got it!”
“Great. Can we play now? I’m looking forward to kicking your butt.” The amused tone didn’t get past Hikaru.
“What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s going to win.” He straightened, setting the timer. “Nigiri.”
Yashiro placed several stones on the board, covering their number in a gentle grasp. When Hikaru had returned from meeting with Touya, Yashiro had still seemed disconnected from everything. Dinner had been another silent affair with him in spite of Hikaru’s attempts at conversation and so Hikaru turned to the thing that he and Yashiro knew best.
And it seemed to be working.
The glazed look was gone from Yashiro’s eyes and he waited for Hikaru to place one or two stones with a challenging air.
Hikaru placed two stones. Two. Six. Ten. Eleven. Odd. He would still hold white.
“This is almost odd.” Hikaru crinkled his brow and Yashiro quickly clarified. “With just the two of us.”
“It’s only for tonight.”
“Yeah, then Touya will be here.” Shifting position, Yashiro bowed his head. “Let’s begin.”
They played through the night, each game melting into a new game. Hikaru lost count of how many times he won or lost and the only thing that mattered was the placement of the stones and the quick reading of how the patterns might play out. They stopped a few times and made trips to the kitchen for tea and snacks, but before long they would return to the goban.
Hikaru’s eyes grew weary and his mind slow, but he never thought to stop, not when he faced Yashiro, who was playing with everything he had and more. This, Hikaru thought when he had a moment to do so, is what the taller boy had needed. The Go world was where Yashiro belonged and these games were the only way Hikaru could think to confirm his friend’s place.
So they continued to play and when Touya arrived in the morning, they were still at the goban, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.
Perhaps sensing something, Touya said nothing. For that, Hikaru was grateful.
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Title: Sequence 1/?
Rating: PG-13 in the long run
Pairings: future Hikaru/Akira
Disclaimer: Belongs to Hotta Yumi and Obata Takeshi. I am not them. I do not own Hikaru no Go.
Comments: Yashiro makes a phone call and Hikaru and Akira talk . . . followed by Akira plotting his heart out.
Kiyoharu is Yashiro’s first name.
Thanks to the lovely Chevira and Middles for betaing this for me again. My main beta is adrift with no comp, but if she ever gets back, she can have at this all she wants. Any mistakes you find are all mine!
I should probably go through this and code certain things in italics, but I’m tired and I still haven’t finished packing. I shall be writing this in long hand from now one, due to work and no access to a computer except on my days off. Hopefully, I won’t be too long between parts.
And thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed. *waves* C&C is always welcome.
The body on the bed was a disjointed and unstrung marionette, its long limbs sprawled every which way, bed sheets twisted about its torso, and its head planted face first into a pillow. A tanned hand hung off the edge of the bed, its fingers loosely snarled in the edge of a blanket. A muffled snore came from somewhere between the pillow and the face and Hikaru stifled a laugh.
He had been checking to see if Yashiro was anything near awake, but apparently not. Well, he would just have to leave his guest a note since Hikaru was going out shortly.
“Lucky you,” he muttered to himself, shutting the door. Yashiro didn’t have to get up and go to a demonstration that was scheduled far too early in the morning to be sane.
Then again, Yashiro had other difficulties, didn’t he?
It was strange how Yashiro seemed taller laying down this morning than he had last night, when Hikaru had answered the door to find him with his shoulders slumped forward; a dull look in his eyes. Hikaru had walked Akari to the station only an hour earlier, after she had bossed him around for a period of time until everything was clean to her satisfaction. That included cleaning his own room -- Akari had given him a horrified look when she had seen it -- and doing laundry.
But somehow, when Hikaru had opened that door to greet Yashiro, he doubted that his fellow pro would have even noticed if boxes were still crowded in the bedroom. The other boy had blankly stated his thanks and eventually started nodding off over the dinner that Hikaru had saved for him, his face pale and worn as a faded ghost. When the silence between them had grown too loud and Yashiro had taken too close a dip towards his plate of food, Hikaru had shuffled his friend off to bed, despite his mumbled protests.
Those protests hadn’t lasted long though. As soon as Yashiro’s head had touched the pillow, he was out like a light.
And he showed no sign of waking even now. Yesterday had to have been an exhausting day for Yashiro.
Finding a suitable piece of paper and pencil, Hikaru scribbled down a note to leave on the counter.
“Done!” he announced triumphantly, pulling his hand away and placing the pencil down.
That was one thing accomplished out of several things to do.
Next was the demonstration . . . after he stopped somewhere to get something for breakfast. Due to his waiting for Yashiro last night, he hadn’t gone to a store to buy more food.
And after that he would have to face Touya.
Placing his face against the cool tile of the counter, Hikaru groaned.
*****
The phone wasn’t supposed to be considered a monster. It wasn’t going to eat him or tear off his arms or rip his heart out while bearing sharp white teeth and stinking of gym socks. Kiyoharu knew that, but he couldn’t help eyeing the innocent machine like it was going to tear him into pieces.
On second thought, it wasn’t the phone that would destroy him; it was what would be on the other side of the line if he made a certain call.
A call that he had to make, because despite what had happened they were still his parents. Even if they had kicked him out, his mother with her blank face and tired eyes and his father with his cold fury and sharp words. They didn’t deserve to know where he was -- if he was safe -- said his anger, not after they had pushed him away and tried to stomp on his dreams. He had worked so hard to please them and he had been so determined to show them that he could succeed as a professional Go player. Despite his efforts to pursue his dreams and give them comfort at still attending school, they had pushed too far. They hadn’t believed in him and they hadn’t acted in any way that he felt parents should. Not one word of encouragement.
Kiyoharu felt his stomach roll and bitterness ride on the back of his tongue. He didn’t need to tell them where he was. He didn’t have to call them.
But that dutiful side of him and the parts of him that had always been eager for a word of praise, told him to call. In spite of their actions, they were his parents and he was their son.
He didn’t want to acknowledge them right now, maybe not ever, but if he didn’t he would be no better than them.
His hands were damp with sweat and he wiped them off on his jeans, taking in a deep breath and picking up the phone. If he thought about it any longer, he would never be able to do it.
The phone ringed dully and Kiyoharu closed his eyes, promising himself to stay collected, while he waited for someone to pick up. No one did and the cheery sound of his mother’s voice on the answering machine was the only answer he got. She sounded so normal, just like when she asked him how his day went after school, and he had to fight against the heavy weight in his chest. Her voice ended and three beeps sounded.
He sat frozen for a second before forcing himself to speak. “I’m not sure if you want to know . . . but I’m fine.” What a lie. “I’m at a friend’s house and I’ll be here for a while.”
And then he hung up, without a goodbye and without leaving a way for them to contact him. Maybe he would call them back up another day and do so, but not today. He was grateful that only the answering machine had greeted him, something without feelings that wouldn’t talk back to him and break him down.
Kiyoharu collected himself and lurched back onto his feet. He was hungry and Shindou was gone for most of the early afternoon, leaving him a note to help himself to the leftovers in the fridge -- why the leftovers? -- and anything else in the apartment, along with a spare key. Waking up only shortly before noon, Kiyoharu had been hungry, but had decided to attack his biggest hurdle of the day first.
Now that he was finished with it, he could move on to feeding himself.
Upon opening the refrigerator door, Kiyoharu found out why Shindou had only mentioned the leftovers in his note. It was because leftovers of last night’s takeout were the only things in the fridge. That is, if Kiyoharu ignored the few condiments on the shelves, not that he considered them anything near a meal. A search through the cupboards produced some tea and instant ramen.
“How do you survive on this stuff, Shindou?” he said, shutting the last cupboard door. “I’ll go to the store and get some actual food.”
Kiyoharu wasn’t planning on surviving off of ramen like Shindou apparently could. He didn’t think Touya would be too fond of it, either, when he moved in.
Touya Akira . . .
Kiyoharu had been aware that Touya was going to move in with Shindou, but it had escaped him that the 5-dan would be moving in tomorrow. It made him wonder if he would have called up Shindou for a place to stay if he had known that. Above all else, Kiyoharu did not want to become a nuisance and it could well be that his abrupt stay at Shindou’s could make him that.
It was too late to be considering that fact. If he left now, it was conceivable that Shindou would throw a fit and Kiyoharu had seen enough of them to know that while he would survive it, he wasn’t keen on spending several hours listening to the irate ravings of his friend.
Why was he still standing around? The food wasn’t going to buy itself.
Sighing, Kiyoharu snatched up the keys still laying on the counter and made to leave.
*****
Akira knew Shindou’s look of determination like he knew the lines upon a goban. Shindou’s mouth would become straight and firm, his eyes would turn into hard pieces of jade, and he would pull back his shoulders slightly, becoming more noticeable in presence. Shindou had a tendency to be overlooked by the majority of the public as just another normal teenager, an enthusiastic and loud teenager. It was only during games when Shindou dropped his cloak of youth and turned serious and dedicated. Akira was different. He had heard people who didn’t even know who he was remark upon ‘that serious young man’.
Akira always noticed Shindou. He was his rival. He was supposed to notice him. Though lately, he acknowledged to himself, he was noticing Shindou a little too much.
This time, Shindou’s determination had him concerned. His eternal rival faced no opponent over the goban and no reason for him to state one of his random goals. At least, Akira didn’t think there was one.
But still, Shindou was standing in front of him, looking prepared to face the hounds of hell, with his backpack still slung over his shoulder. Akira dared a quick glance at Ishikawa and she shrugged, bewildered.
That was no help.
“Touya.” Shindou gave his customary greeting.
“Shindou.”
Shindou frowned, stared at his feet, then the goban where Akira had been recreating a game he had played earlier, and finally brought his eyes to meet Akira’s. “Would you mind sharing a room with me?”
“Why?”
“Because Yashiro is sleeping in the smaller room. He’s staying at the apartment for a week or two.”
That was certainly unexpected and Akira had to think on it for a minute. “He’s staying over?”
It took several more questions to squeeze gather all the information that Shindou knew. He still had a few questions, but Shindou had no answers for him. If Yashiro had no place to go, Akira was not going to say no. “It’s all right if Yashiro stays. The apartment withstood Isumi-san, Waya-kun, and you living in it, I’m sure it can handle us.”
But would they be able to handle each other?
Shindou managed a shocked expression for a brief second and Akira wondered if he had expected more resistance from him. Did Shindou think that he would actually reject helping Yashiro? No, it couldn’t be that. Their friendship was of the fighting variety -- understandable with their rivalry and the arguments over games -- and it had ingrained in each of them the tendency to be overly-defensive when confronting the other.
Akira had noticed it in himself before and now he saw it in Shindou. The passion for Go ran through their veins and their confrontations were the points where their passion met. It wasn’t always fighting. There were times when they would sit over a goban and manage a quiet discussion, their hands grazing each other’s now and then as they gestured to different solutions. And then there were the times when Shindou would laugh and chatter away, grabbing Akira’s wrist in his callused grasp and hauling him off to do something not Go related.
Their relationship had altered so many times and it continued to do so, but at seventeen-years-old, Akira though he might finally know what it was for him. He would not presume Shindou’s feelings.
“Ah,” Shindou said, trying to find his words, “then do you want to room with me? Or I could room with Yashiro . . .”
“No!” That came out rather abrupt. Akira cleared his throat and took a moment to regain himself. “No, I don’t mind rooming with you.”
“Cool,” Shindou shifted and glanced towards the door. “I should get going. There’s nothing in the fridge and I need to check with Yashiro to see if he wants anything.”
Yashiro again. “Take him with you. He has enough sense to keep you from buying more ramen. It isn’t healthy to eat it all the time.”
“I don’t eat it all the time!”
“Right. Don’t you have to go shopping?”
“I’m going right now.” And Shindou strode his way to the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then. I should be there late in the morning to move my stuff in.” Akira had dinner with his parents tonight.
“All right. You have your key, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’ll see you, then.” Shindou walked out the door.
Akira watched the closed door and before long, brought his eyes back to the goban. He had little to no point of staying now. Not without Shindou to play a game against. So it was time to head home and double-check to see if he had everything packed.
Shindou, Yashiro, and him in one apartment. They could deal with that. Shindou and him in one bedroom. Akira could think of more unpleasant circumstances and few situations that would be more pleasant. Or less than sane.
Gathering the stones, Akira started plotting.
*****
“Do you want to play a game?” Hikaru asked Yashiro, already shifting the goban into the center of the living area and pulling two pillows off of the couch.
Yashiro slid off of his chair, just recently finished with washing the dishes. “Sure.”
Hikaru took one of the go ke and set it at his side, while Yashiro plopped himself down across from him and grabbed the other. They both removed the lids silently. Hikaru had the white stones.
“How about ten second per hand speed Go?”
Smiling at his own suggestion, Hikaru observed Yashiro stiffening, then bringing his gaze to bare on him. “Are you trying to recreate last year when we prepared for the Hokuto Cup?”
“And the year before that.” Hikaru had participated in all three Hokuto Cups and he was the only one out of the first team to have done so. Touya and Yashiro had both missed one year. Due to a schedule conflict, Touya had missed out on the second year. The third year -- this year -- Yashiro had lost in the first round of the selection tournament. Hikaru had been confused on the why at the time, but now he assumed the loss had to something to do with Yashiro’s home life.
“Yeah. Those were fun nights. Except when you hit me with the fan the first year after I fell asleep and then Waya-kun tried to kill me when I woke him up.” Waya had been their third teammate for the second Hokuto Cup and he had not reacted kindly to Yashiro’s methods of waking those up who had fallen asleep while observing a game.
Hikaru laughed, “You deserved it both times. I only gave back what I got.”
“How is Waya doing in China?”
“He’s only been there a week, but he and Isumi-san called when they got there and a few days ago. He sounds like he’s having the time of his life and driving Isumi-san crazy.” Drawing his fingers across the smooth stones in the go ke, Hikaru smiled. “Isumi was worried about leaving me alone.”
“I can see where he was coming from.”
Was everyone trying to pick on him? He groaned.
“What?” Yashiro was smirking. “I cooked. You ate the food and it wasn’t ramen.”
“It’s nothing you deserve a trophy for.”
“Says you.” Leaning back, Yashiro raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a timer so we can start the game?”
Good question. Where had he put the timer? Hikaru peeked underneath the couch and immediately spotted the missing device. Pulling it out, he waved it triumphantly in front of Yashiro. “Got it!”
“Great. Can we play now? I’m looking forward to kicking your butt.” The amused tone didn’t get past Hikaru.
“What are you talking about? I’m the one who’s going to win.” He straightened, setting the timer. “Nigiri.”
Yashiro placed several stones on the board, covering their number in a gentle grasp. When Hikaru had returned from meeting with Touya, Yashiro had still seemed disconnected from everything. Dinner had been another silent affair with him in spite of Hikaru’s attempts at conversation and so Hikaru turned to the thing that he and Yashiro knew best.
And it seemed to be working.
The glazed look was gone from Yashiro’s eyes and he waited for Hikaru to place one or two stones with a challenging air.
Hikaru placed two stones. Two. Six. Ten. Eleven. Odd. He would still hold white.
“This is almost odd.” Hikaru crinkled his brow and Yashiro quickly clarified. “With just the two of us.”
“It’s only for tonight.”
“Yeah, then Touya will be here.” Shifting position, Yashiro bowed his head. “Let’s begin.”
They played through the night, each game melting into a new game. Hikaru lost count of how many times he won or lost and the only thing that mattered was the placement of the stones and the quick reading of how the patterns might play out. They stopped a few times and made trips to the kitchen for tea and snacks, but before long they would return to the goban.
Hikaru’s eyes grew weary and his mind slow, but he never thought to stop, not when he faced Yashiro, who was playing with everything he had and more. This, Hikaru thought when he had a moment to do so, is what the taller boy had needed. The Go world was where Yashiro belonged and these games were the only way Hikaru could think to confirm his friend’s place.
So they continued to play and when Touya arrived in the morning, they were still at the goban, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion.
Perhaps sensing something, Touya said nothing. For that, Hikaru was grateful.