All things considered, it's what makes the most sense, so far. All else Akira knows of Sai, those scant and minimal details, have just made most things more confusing. But Akira thinks about the binder, its neutral purple, and its overwhelming about of games. So many of them—most of them—were played against Shindou. The records of those games start a few years ago, so if they're that numerous... every night makes sense. Akira cannot help but stare at that text, though. Every night, in Shindou's room. It makes sense...
The "why" of it does not.]
He was related to you?
[Maybe an uncle or something. An older cousin. Akira even has the uncomfortable thought that Shindou's older brother taught him Go and then passed away. But, uncomfortable as it is, it's—selfishly—easier than wondering if Sai was just someone who had a position Akira never could. It's easier than wondering what it would have been like, sitting in a bedroom at night, playing and learning his way through games with Shindou. (Or through games with Sai.)
Akira finds himself pursing his lips too hard.]
Anyway, I wasn't paying much attention when I came in. I should have, but
I'll have to take a closer look.
Would your parents let you leave on New Year's Eve?
[Yeah, Hikaru definitely wasn't prepared for a question like that one. It's too late to back out now, though, like a plan of attack he didn't think all the way through; he's just going to have to deal with it as best he can. Sai was a lot of things to him, probably too many things... irrefutable proof that you shouldn't stake all your faith in someone else. He wants to tell Touya not to stake all his faith in him. Could save Touya a lot of heartache in the future.
It takes him a little while to reply:]
not that i know of
[To be honest, Sai was more like a father to him than his real father. More like a mother than his real mother. He was a friend, a brother, a mentor, a confidant, (a puppy,) even something of a pie-in-the-sky rival toward the end, with Hikaru's desire to replace him reaching new heights. Hikaru debates, then debates again, what else he should say about their relationship. There's a lot he could say if he wanted to say it. There's a lot he'll probably never be able to say, because Touya will never understand what it's like to combine two souls inside one tiny body. Sai took more than his fair share of Hikaru's heart when he disappeared. Greedy bastard.]
he was like an older brother to me if you're wondering
[Maybe that helps to explain the sheer magnitude of his grief, even though he feels stupid for feeling that grief more than a year after the fact. He should have gotten over this shit instead of turning into a gibbering basket case. The microwave finishes with a long beep, only just distracting him from the screen, but he returns to it to read Touya's latest text again. Grimly, he thinks it doesn't matter if his parents would allow it or not.]
[Akira hasn't written any more notes or done any more reading in the time it's taken for Shindou to reply. He has planted his head into his tense hand, waiting and waiting for his phone to buzz, checking and re-checking just in case he'd not heard a notification. It isn't actually that long, but it feels like too long, and Akira isn't sure which of the questions he'd asked makes him feel that way most.
He's an idiot about grabbing his phone when Shindou's texts do come in; his hand fumbles awkwardly in his startle, his haste.]
I was wondering.
[No point in denying that, especially if Shindou is the one offering these things. Everyone's been wondering, you know. Everyone's been wondering who Sai is and where he came from, and Akira has witnessed a bit of Ogata-san's thin theories on this matter.
Akira's father had a younger brother, but that younger brother passed away when Akira was seven years old. He died of illness, from what Akira understands, which admittedly isn't much. He remembers watching his father mourn, and he remembers his parents refusing to explain what mourning is. His father was stately, seeming very handsome and admirable. At first, Akira thought he had never admired his father so much...
But while his profile was strong, and his back was straight, he started losing weight. Mother murmured much more, during that time. For months, the house was full of murmuring and empty of much else. Father was quiet and smelled only of incense and cool water. Never the particular woodiness of him, like sitting on the porch during summer at night. Never tea, and never supper; not even rice. Akira's father had lost his own scent in his grief, and his arms felt less sturdy when Akira hugged him.
Akira had already turned eight by the time Father smelled like himself again, and had the arms he used to. When Akira thinks about that now, he realizes that this was with the support of Mother and all else. Shindou has been entombed in the bedroom where he learned with Sai, and he's been allowed to do that.
This is pinching hard at Akira. His hand pushes up against his forehead, up into and through his hair.]
Yes, I am. You should ask your mother if you can come with me.
[Hikaru's grief came to an end--or so he thought--when he discovered Sai still existed inside his Go. He recorded his own games as obsessively as he did Sai's just so he could identify those inklings of Sai, those timeless glimmers, to treasure them like precious heirlooms. There was one lodestar--god, it was during his first match with Touya, wasn't it, when he didn't even have to think about it and it was like Sai guided his hand across the board. It's the reason Touya even spoke up about Sai, and it's the reason Hikaru made that promise to him about someday. Their very first game together, and it was practically shining with constellations of Sai's influence. It was a wonderful game to remember him by.
But then those glimmers started to fade, disappearing like stars into a black hole. It got harder and harder to find Sai in the patterns he made, or maybe he was just looking for more than the occasional glimmer. By the time he played Ko Yeong-ha, he felt like he couldn't find Sai anywhere; it felt like he was losing Sai all over again; Sai never would have lost that game, no way, no fucking way. After that travesty, his Go felt even more earthy and uninspired to him, even as he continued to win game after game at home. He's been doing all he can to climb out of his abyss of forfeitures, to earn that next dan rank, to qualify for more title leagues, but all that isn't as important as finding Sai.
Yesterday's game felt really good, admittedly, but he's afraid to put it to kifu and confirm it's ordinary and absent of Sai. He can imagine another player--any other player, really--telling him to just be himself, to develop his own style, but that isn't the point and his inherent style isn't noteworthy anyway. If not for him, and his selfishness, the Go world wouldn't have been so deprived of Sai's genius. If he can't properly emulate Sai...
Yet Touya noticed him for being his own person. Touya chose him out of everyone out there to be his fiercest rival. It just blows his mind when he thinks about that, and it makes him want to take up Touya's hands again and never let them go.]
i'll go
[...]
i just asked her and she said it's fine so i'll go
[It probably isn't going to be fine, he knows, but he doesn't care and he can deal with that later. His parents will be expecting him to trundle along to his grandparents' house to visit with them and some other relatives, and that sounds infinitely less appealing than an evening with Touya. He feels like a damn stranger whenever he's around his own family. He's that professional Go player, and his cousins will give him dirty looks like he's a shit-flinging monkey at the local zoo. Yeah, thanks but no thanks.
The bowl is a little too hot, so he's careful about transferring it from the microwave to the kitchen table. Once he's situated, he writes,] also i forgot to ask you how you're doing too [He hasn't asked Touya how he's doing nearly as much as he should...]
We should see each other before then so I can give you directions again
DON'T throw this one away! Actually use it! I mean it.
[Shindou is an easy person to scold; Akira falls into it already like second nature. Like a cultivated habit. His thoughts of Shindou, always there and always heated, are cultivated... He realizes he's frowning, and, frowning further, he looks down at himself, his school uniform. When he goes to meet up with Shindou next, he'll wear the leather jacket again. Maybe Shindou would like that, instead of something in a spiteful mint. Now, should Akira get his hair trimmed before or after New Year's Day...
...
All of him is significantly softer, at Shindou's last text. His frown is still present, but even it is softer, too.]
I'm okay. My father and mother left for Beijing on the 16th, and they'll be back on Jan 6th, so I'm just doing homework and minding myself.
[Part of it counts as a good enough feeling. It means they think him perfectly capable. He can meet that expectation easily enough, he's sure. On the other hand, he's never spent a New Year's Eve without going to a shrine with his parents. That is, he supposes, part of adulthood.
A minute more, and he pushes aside his high school textbooks completely.]
What about you? How are you feeling? Aside from freshly risen from a coma.
Don't even think about lying!
You don't have to say a lot if you don't want to, but at least give me an idea
[He's self-aware enough to know that he's scowling at his phone. But...]
[Hikaru is in the middle of slurping some noodles when Touya's admonitions ping-ping-ping into view. His first instinct is to frown mightily, which he does, and his second instinct is to get pissed off, which he does soon after. His thumb slams back onto the screen, jotting out a response--]
i didn't throw anything away idiot
i just forgot where i put it!
there's a difference!
it's not like i get lost all the time even without a map
[This-- This is what he's used to, what he's more familiar with: Touya's incessant bitching. Honestly, he doesn't really know what to do when Touya decides to be extra nice to him, listening to him and holding his hands, telling him the things he's always wanted to hear. Like how he can't stand teaching games, Hikaru never wanted to be pitied for what he's lacking, even though he's a pitiable creature. He doesn't want Touya to have to walk on eggshells around him. Touya wouldn't do that, of course, not when he'd rather burst into bedrooms and throw open windows when it's freezing cold outside, but yeah... Any punches Touya has pulled, especially lately, can be blamed on Hikaru's stupid sensitivity. It was a few months ago when Touya insulted his Go--nothing unusual, just stating the facts--and Hikaru decided to walk out of the Go salon without saying anything. Touya actually texted him a little while later to ask him if he made it home safely. Touya shouldn't have had to do something like that. It wasn't like Hikaru stopped and thought about jumping off every bridge he came across. Not really. And even if he did, it wouldn't have been Touya's fault, when it's Hikaru who still plays like shit sometimes. Touya wants to see some improvement from his rival. That's all.
Anyway, Hikaru is halfway to asking if the invitation would mean being around Touya's parents for New Year's Eve. That would be pretty uncomfortable for a few reasons, but then Touya mentions they're out of the country and Hikaru purses his lips, deleting the question. Maybe Touya's only doing all this stuff because he's feeling lonely without them around. Well, that's fine. Hikaru knows all about the bone-scrape of loneliness, so he can understand what that can do to a person. And it's hard to be mad at someone when he understands that.]
i don't have anything going on
so we can meet up whenever
[His stomach isn't having a great time with the food, even though it's little more than plain noodles, but Hikaru is too stubborn to stop eating now that he's started. He'll just have to deal with the steady cramping as it comes. Unfortunately, Touya's probing and demanding texts don't do anything to lessen his bout of indigestion. Touya's trying to cut him some slack, maybe, even as he forces his way into a heart he can't understand...
Another short delay, and then:]
i feel like yesterday didn't even happen, like it was just a dream
but i guess it did happen or you wouldn't be saying this stuff to me
and that game we played together
it was like.....
[He still remembers what it was like: it got to the point where he wanted to climb into Touya's lap, pressing closer to him than any crucial attachment. Just straddling him right then and there, hands on his shoulders, forehead to forehead, recycling each other's humidified air... He tries to shake his head, then, as if that will dislodge the crude ideas worming their way through his brain. His priorities aren't what they should be right now.]
it made me feel good
[Well, I wasn't upset with you. Priorities, man...]
it's been like forever since the last time i felt that good about go or anything
[Go Weekly first referred to Touya Akira as a "young adult" when he was eleven. "Touya Meijin and his son, a young adult poised to soon make waves in the world of professional Go." Likewise, "responsible young man" is an epithet already with much history behind it. He's always been responsible, so far as he remembers, and he was a young man soon after. If, at that time, his adulthood was young, what is its age now?]
No difference
If you put it where it doesn't matter it's the same as THROWING IT AWAY there's no difference. Don't do that this time.
[He'll write out the new set of directions responsibly. Shindou will need to be responsible with them. Irresponsibly, Akira's thoughts are abandoning these questions on civics. He's sweeping up his school books when Shindou says whenever. He waits out that delay between texts by settling his school bag over his shoulder. The other students in the library are non-entities to him; he spares them neither glance nor thought when he whisks his way between the tables. If anyone whispers about Touya Akira, top of his class, marching out of the library after doing makeup work during winter break, the whispers don't reach him. If anyone whispers that Touya Akira is allegedly second in his class right now, he's already out through the door.]
It felt like forever for me too.
[Which is insulting in its own way. It didn't need to feel like forever. He would have done that with Shindou so much sooner, if... well, if only he'd known what Shindou wanted in the first place. Truth be told, Akira still isn't certain he knows. Shindou is his own tug-of-war, and Akira wants to be sure of himself, of his strength, of the weight of his own pull. He refuses to let Shindou humiliate him by yanking him forward and leaving him flat in the mud.]
[No one in their right mind would ever describe Shindou Hikaru as responsible. Even his Go can't be considered the least bit responsible, given how often he flouts conventions and common sense through his moves. An older, more storied pro might be considered as an innovator, redefining the game itself, while he gets stuck with the label of troublemaker, renegade, whatever...]
of course there's a difference!
if i throw something away then that's my *intention*
if i misplace something then that's just an *honest mistake*
but i'll staple it to my forehead this time if it'll make you feel better
[What a moron. Hikaru shouldn't have to explain something so simple to the sterling genius who's on his way to another promotion as well as graduating at the top of his class. Erm, not that... Hikaru knows the second thing for a fact, since he doesn't ask about school all that often, but it's just what makes the most sense to him. By the way, they did end up getting that book of poetry together, with Hikaru making faces (stupid faces, in Touya's parlance) as he skimmed a few of the entries. The poems all seemed very sentimental and kind of depressing. Pretentious, like he said. It annoyed him that Touya saw something different...
And it's even more annoying that he can't get more than a dozen bites into his noodles. Seriously world-weary, he gives up on them and then gets up to find some plastic wrap for the bowl, so he can save the rest for later. He's tempted to just crawl back into bed for what's left of the day, but he knows that wouldn't be very responsible. He should at least record yesterday's game and seal it up inside the yellow binder.
Reading Touya's latest texts makes him feel a little queasier, a little guiltier, for being a constant thorn in Touya's side. He doesn't want to be responsible for Touya's skyrocketing levels of stress. Before all this started, somebody should've warned him that Touya Akira had nerves stretched as thin as a sheet of crepe paper.]
if i took a bath i'd have to get off the phone because the last time i tried to do both was a disaster
[Ah, yes, because who could forget that time he dropped his brand-new phone in the tub while arguing with Touya about the merits of high Chinese fuseki. He spent the next few days on tenterhooks, having buried his phone in a bag of rice, hoping all the moisture would be leeched from it. He literally paced back and forth in the Go salon on those days, not unlike a grieving father in the waiting room at the hospital. Naturally, he blamed Touya for distracting him--]
i'd rather talk to you
[Maybe he's sulking at the (?) suggestion (or was it an order?). He kind of forgot how much he liked talking to Touya about anything and everything.]
[Reading sentimental poetry had made Akira uncomfortable in a way that was just unexpected. Looking over some of the poems he hadn't seen, side by side with Shindou, Akira found himself frowning. He found his chin pinching and his throat working. His brow creased deep, and when Shindou asked what was wrong, and then, Touya, what's up with that face, Akira could only prickle and snap at him. The fear of loss was vague in his mind's eye, and he couldn't express it. The wonder of affection didn't represent itself in a way Akira understood. Akira ended up wrenching the book away from Shindou, almost protective, and then he elbowed Shindou for good measure. That night, Akira lay in his futon with his hands folded over his chest, waiting to fall asleep. He thought, Well, it's unimaginable. His eyes began to hurt for how tight he squeezed them shut. If I didn't have you, well, it's unimaginable. He tried to shut that book of poetry, in his mind, and then he thought instead, Stupid, stupid, stupid Shindou. Falling asleep angry made him wake up with a headache.
This morning was the first time in days he's woken without a headache.]
Take A Bath
If you don't, it's going to feel like an *HONEST MISTAKE*
[This is now less about the bath itself. It's still a little about that: Shindou will feel better if he takes one, and Akira is sure of that. But, mostly, Akira wants to be listened to. If Shindou slips into the tub, he'll be listening to Akira, and so he'll be acknowledging that Akira says things worth hearing, and so he'll hear and understand that Akira knows the right things to do, and so... he'll do them. And then they'll both know the right things to do; they'll both be doing them.
It sounds nice, at least. Well, it sounds necessary. That crepe paper grows flimsier by the day.]
I'm giving you
Let's say
47 minutes.
[His brisk walk to the station, the train ride itself, and then his brisk walk from the station... that's about where it should even out. He doesn't give himself much of a buffer because he's determined to be correctly swift.]
[Hikaru is already halfway up the stairs when Touya's suggestion reveals itself to be more of an order. There's that insubordinate part of him that wants to walk right by the bathroom, ignoring what Touya is telling him to do... but it wouldn't be so bad, he thinks, having a bath. A shower wouldn't be so bad, either, but a bath might do something about the ongoing calcification of his muscles. He's a great big ugly mineral deposit that feels like it's a million years old. Soaking in especially hot water will help to wear down the worst of his spiky aches and pains.
He avoids looking in the bathroom mirror, as per usual. There's a little more liveliness to his face, and his eyes don't look like frosted glass anymore--he still doesn't want to look at himself. It's easier to set down the phone by the sink and shimmy his way out of the sweatshirt he's still wearing from yesterday. As soon as he came home, he went straight to his frozen-over meat locker of a bedroom, closed the damn window, and then passed out when his head hit the pillow. He's pretty lucky neither of his parents realized he jacked up the heating bill by leaving his window open for hours.
Back to the phone:]
47 minutes is oddly specific.....
[He shouldn't need that much time to take a bath, even if he went through every single hair care product he has on the shelf. Just as he's pulling one arm out of his long-sleeved shirt, that's when he realizes what Touya is getting at. He's a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Can't be helped.]
wait you're coming over here?
[... Is that supposed to make him feel kind of nervous? Touya doesn't seem like he's on a warpath, not like he was yesterday, but it's still... Seeing Touya again, after telling him about Sai, after giving that info a day to sink in... Seeing Touya again because Touya wants to see him again... I came to you today because I wanted to be with you. That's it. That's why. Hikaru drags the long-sleeved shirt over his head, frowning at the smell of his stale sweat and anxiety. A full 47 minutes might not be enough time to make sure he doesn't look like total shit again. If he hurries himself up, though...]
i thought you were doing homework and stuff
[His face feels a little too warm right now. A quick, aghast glance at the mirror confirms his cheeks aren't the Go-player's-ivory they should be. God, it's really drilling straight through to his core to think of Touya wanting to see him as soon as possible. He didn't realize just how much Touya wanted to be with him. He didn't realize it for the longest time.]
i'll go take a bath then
but you could've just said you wanted to come over!
I wouldn't HAVE to say it if you'd listen to what I do say! You're always arguing about everything
[Akira isn't telling Shindou to stop arguing about everything—for Shindou to stop would do wonders for Akira's stress levels, sure, but Akira isn't trying to lose any part of Shindou. Not even the parts of him that ignite Akira into frenzies previously unheard of.
Well. If Akira could do without any parts of Shindou, it would be the ones that leave him a little more ghostly each time. Shindou is Shindou, but Akira much prefers his solidity. His earthly presence.]
I'll see you soon
[And, in the end, that's what matters. He hopes Shindou realizes that, too. Homework, yeah... he's supposed to be doing his homework... he's supposed to be catching up with his homework. But nothing matters so much as the ability to tell Shindou soon. This isn't the absence of a warpath. This is a tide-turning battle, decisive, and Shindou is gaining ground, advancing further and further into the field of Akira's thoughts. His colonies there have been thriving for some time, and Akira's had no luck with staving off those forces.
Akira's knocking is not unlike the drums of war, then. He arrives very nearly on the dot of his prediction, if only because he's been walking to the very limit of speed which qualifies as walking. Here and now, on Shindou's porch, he doesn't care enough about grace to look graceful about it. His hair is ruffled, for his troubles. Though still sleek, it's been blown out of place, stray strands in random places. His cheeks are red, too, from weather and energy both. Tucked up against his chin, he's wearing a scarf. It's the deep color of a handkerchief he owns... His school blazer, like charcoal linen, could stand to be pulled straight by the hems. Even so, he's able to keep his spine at a proud line. His mouth sits habitually in sternness, and his eyes have a too-earnest glint to them.
But Shindou opens the door to his home, and soon is now right here. Akira sees the pajama pants settled warm around Shindou's legs; he sees the bath towel situated atop his head. And Akira's lips look full again, mouth relaxing from stress. Something in his eyes uncoils. His face just grows much softer. His breaths billow away from him in bursts, for all his exertion in the cold, but he still looks like he's been warmed.]
I didn't have time to stop and bring anything with me, [he says, but it's too light to be prim.] Since I came straight from the train.
[When Touya first informed Hikaru of his plans to go to high school, they had a fight about it. They've had fights about every topic under the sun, but that one was a big one for them, with Hikaru trying to say a bunch of offensive things without actually saying them and making things worse. He was worried Touya would buckle under the strain (but he couldn't say that), and he was worried Touya would slack off with his Go (but he couldn't say that) whether he meant to or not. Yashirou just never looked like he was having any fun when he talked about high school, so why the fuck...
But the first thing Hikaru did after their fight was to visit the website of the school Touya had mentioned. Specifically, he wanted to know what their spring and winter uniforms looked like. He really was going to raise holy hell if Touya had chosen a place with despicable uniforms. Lines in the sand had to be drawn at sweater vests and similar shit for sure. No rival of Shindou Hikaru's would be allowed to wear a styleless outfit for a prolonged period of time.
The uniforms turned out to be... well, they aren't that bad, honestly. They aren't bad at all. Looking at Touya now, out there on his doorstep, Hikaru has to admit Touya himself makes the uniform look the complete opposite of bad. The website said something about how it was designed with dignity and beauty in mind--which Touya already has in spades--but these colors, these textures, really bring out the best in him. The first time he saw Touya in this new uniform, at the Go salon, his heart may or may not have skipped several beats in a row... Right now, his gaze is also lingering on the length of Touya's dark blue scarf--not the cream-colored one, today. Touya, he thinks, and that's all he has to think, feeling warmer.]
You're twenty seconds late, you know.
[He holds up his cell phone, in his other hand, showing off the stopwatch app he has been running. 47:20, 47:21, 47:22... Then, smiling in disbelief, he opens the door wider for Touya to come inside and out of the cold. The house itself is warm, actually cozy, with a kind of comfortable semidarkness due to the lights being turned off. Only Hikaru's bedroom offers a slant of light at the top of the stairs. He pockets his phone, closes the door behind Touya, and returns to towel-drying his hair vigorously.]
But you didn't have to rush over here like a fucking maniac. [His voice is warm, but it doesn't have the heat of a real insult.] If you do want a snack, or a drink, or something, there's some stuff in the kitchen... [Isumi-san has only visited him at his house once. Waya, also, was just the one time, when his parents and Waya's parents had dinner together. But Touya has already visited him two times, already, amazingly, and Hikaru wonders if that means anything or if it's just wishful thinking.] My parents won't be home for a while, I guess, so... [There's probably some etiquette he should be following right now, to properly invite someone into his home, but for the life of him he can't remember how it's supposed to go. Is a bunch of bowing involved? Like, probably? It comes up with everything else, pretty much...
But he's too busy staring at the curious evening shadows and how they cling to Touya's reddened cheeks.]
My room? [he asks, more tentative than he would like to be.]
[When Shindou voiced his concerns about Akira attending high school, Akira knew he wasn't voicing all of them. He knew Shindou wasn't saying exactly what he wanted to say, and frankly Shindou didn't need to say it. Akira saw those things in the awkward, angry tumult of Shindou's expression. He saw the doubt—it was worry, but worry means doubt, doubt, doubt. In realizing this, volcanic activity had spit out through his surface. How dare you, he said, far from quiet. How dare you. His eyes shone hot and bright and furious, and underneath that, hurt. It was a bad fight. Afterward, Akira felt like he was begging himself to stop thinking about Shindou, about faithlessness, about worth, but all of those things have been knotted up together for years. He doesn't know why he can't get Shindou to believe what he should believe.]
You took forever to open the door.
[During other times, that can and will be a complaint. Here, the cherry of Akira's cheeks translates into benevolence. Shindou's stopwatch causes more than a flutter. This isn't so gentle as butterflies. Akira feels as though his oxygen has gotten lost somewhere inside him, knowing that Shindou was timing him, waiting second by second, just like Akira was.
The mellow warmth of Shindou's home is inviting—Akira feels invited, welcomed, even when Shindou seems like he doesn't know quite what to do with himself. When Akira takes one last breath of winter air, he knows what to do. He needs to be certain of that. As Shindou shuts the door, Akira stands tall—a little taller all the time—and pulls that scarf away from his body. When he drops his school bag onto the stoop, it's heavy. All those extra books, all that overextending of intent. He won't allow himself to slouch when speaking of school, like Yashirou tended to. The line of his dark blazer is a line of dignity.
But it's nice to toe out of his shoes in Shindou's entryway; it's nice to bend, hook his fingers at their mouths, and set them neatly aside. Akira doesn't need Shindou to bow or wring his hands or welcome him with flattering language. He just needs Shindou to let him in, like this, allowed to move through the dim and quiet of Shindou's surroundings.] Your room, [he confirms, no space here for indefinite actions. He raises his hands to his own reddened cheeks, dipping his fingers into evening shadows, and then begins to smooth down his hair. Less of a maniac, perhaps (hopefully). He's glancing around, into the house, while he does this, and he gives an idle, thoughtless sniff. It's just the sort of thing that naturally happens with a body, when one isn't paying attention. With his scarf tucked over his arm, Akira settles down the last of his windblown flyaways... His eyes migrate back to Shindou. His hand hesitates up at his crown. This house seems very quiet.
Akira breezes past Shindou's stare, steps up onto the stoop, and inclines to retrieve his bag.]
I came for your room, [he reminds Shindou, still facing into the house,] not your kitchen.
[This time, he's not advancing up the stairs like a grim reaper. He flings open no doors, no windows. He doesn't invite himself onto Shindou's bed in order to be angry and commanding. He's much more respectful about being in Shindou's space; he just picks an open spot, sets his book bag neatly onto the floor, and kneels with his hands in his lap.]
Since Yashirou-kun won't be here to save you this time, I didn't want to give you your directions last minute. Plus, [he says, and his head tilts back to look at where Shindou is standing,] I wanted to come.
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bakerstreet2017-10-13 01:48 pm
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All things considered, it's what makes the most sense, so far. All else Akira knows of Sai, those scant and minimal details, have just made most things more confusing. But Akira thinks about the binder, its neutral purple, and its overwhelming about of games. So many of them—most of them—were played against Shindou. The records of those games start a few years ago, so if they're that numerous... every night makes sense. Akira cannot help but stare at that text, though. Every night, in Shindou's room. It makes sense...
The "why" of it does not.]
He was related to you?
[Maybe an uncle or something. An older cousin. Akira even has the uncomfortable thought that Shindou's older brother taught him Go and then passed away. But, uncomfortable as it is, it's—selfishly—easier than wondering if Sai was just someone who had a position Akira never could. It's easier than wondering what it would have been like, sitting in a bedroom at night, playing and learning his way through games with Shindou. (Or through games with Sai.)
Akira finds himself pursing his lips too hard.]
Anyway, I wasn't paying much attention when I came in. I should have, but
I'll have to take a closer look.
Would your parents let you leave on New Year's Eve?
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It takes him a little while to reply:]
not that i know of
[To be honest, Sai was more like a father to him than his real father. More like a mother than his real mother. He was a friend, a brother, a mentor, a confidant, (a puppy,) even something of a pie-in-the-sky rival toward the end, with Hikaru's desire to replace him reaching new heights. Hikaru debates, then debates again, what else he should say about their relationship. There's a lot he could say if he wanted to say it. There's a lot he'll probably never be able to say, because Touya will never understand what it's like to combine two souls inside one tiny body. Sai took more than his fair share of Hikaru's heart when he disappeared. Greedy bastard.]
he was like an older brother to me
if you're wondering
[Maybe that helps to explain the sheer magnitude of his grief, even though he feels stupid for feeling that grief more than a year after the fact. He should have gotten over this shit instead of turning into a gibbering basket case. The microwave finishes with a long beep, only just distracting him from the screen, but he returns to it to read Touya's latest text again. Grimly, he thinks it doesn't matter if his parents would allow it or not.]
i don't know
probably
are you inviting me somewhere for new year's eve?
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He's an idiot about grabbing his phone when Shindou's texts do come in; his hand fumbles awkwardly in his startle, his haste.]
I was wondering.
[No point in denying that, especially if Shindou is the one offering these things. Everyone's been wondering, you know. Everyone's been wondering who Sai is and where he came from, and Akira has witnessed a bit of Ogata-san's thin theories on this matter.
Akira's father had a younger brother, but that younger brother passed away when Akira was seven years old. He died of illness, from what Akira understands, which admittedly isn't much. He remembers watching his father mourn, and he remembers his parents refusing to explain what mourning is. His father was stately, seeming very handsome and admirable. At first, Akira thought he had never admired his father so much...
But while his profile was strong, and his back was straight, he started losing weight. Mother murmured much more, during that time. For months, the house was full of murmuring and empty of much else. Father was quiet and smelled only of incense and cool water. Never the particular woodiness of him, like sitting on the porch during summer at night. Never tea, and never supper; not even rice. Akira's father had lost his own scent in his grief, and his arms felt less sturdy when Akira hugged him.
Akira had already turned eight by the time Father smelled like himself again, and had the arms he used to. When Akira thinks about that now, he realizes that this was with the support of Mother and all else. Shindou has been entombed in the bedroom where he learned with Sai, and he's been allowed to do that.
This is pinching hard at Akira. His hand pushes up against his forehead, up into and through his hair.]
Yes, I am. You should ask your mother if you can come with me.
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But then those glimmers started to fade, disappearing like stars into a black hole. It got harder and harder to find Sai in the patterns he made, or maybe he was just looking for more than the occasional glimmer. By the time he played Ko Yeong-ha, he felt like he couldn't find Sai anywhere; it felt like he was losing Sai all over again; Sai never would have lost that game, no way, no fucking way. After that travesty, his Go felt even more earthy and uninspired to him, even as he continued to win game after game at home. He's been doing all he can to climb out of his abyss of forfeitures, to earn that next dan rank, to qualify for more title leagues, but all that isn't as important as finding Sai.
Yesterday's game felt really good, admittedly, but he's afraid to put it to kifu and confirm it's ordinary and absent of Sai. He can imagine another player--any other player, really--telling him to just be himself, to develop his own style, but that isn't the point and his inherent style isn't noteworthy anyway. If not for him, and his selfishness, the Go world wouldn't have been so deprived of Sai's genius. If he can't properly emulate Sai...
Yet Touya noticed him for being his own person. Touya chose him out of everyone out there to be his fiercest rival. It just blows his mind when he thinks about that, and it makes him want to take up Touya's hands again and never let them go.]
i'll go
[...]
i just asked her and she said it's fine so i'll go
[It probably isn't going to be fine, he knows, but he doesn't care and he can deal with that later. His parents will be expecting him to trundle along to his grandparents' house to visit with them and some other relatives, and that sounds infinitely less appealing than an evening with Touya. He feels like a damn stranger whenever he's around his own family. He's that professional Go player, and his cousins will give him dirty looks like he's a shit-flinging monkey at the local zoo. Yeah, thanks but no thanks.
The bowl is a little too hot, so he's careful about transferring it from the microwave to the kitchen table. Once he's situated, he writes,] also i forgot to ask you how you're doing too [He hasn't asked Touya how he's doing nearly as much as he should...]
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We should see each other before then so I can give you directions again
DON'T throw this one away! Actually use it! I mean it.
[Shindou is an easy person to scold; Akira falls into it already like second nature. Like a cultivated habit. His thoughts of Shindou, always there and always heated, are cultivated... He realizes he's frowning, and, frowning further, he looks down at himself, his school uniform. When he goes to meet up with Shindou next, he'll wear the leather jacket again. Maybe Shindou would like that, instead of something in a spiteful mint. Now, should Akira get his hair trimmed before or after New Year's Day...
...
All of him is significantly softer, at Shindou's last text. His frown is still present, but even it is softer, too.]
I'm okay. My father and mother left for Beijing on the 16th, and they'll be back on Jan 6th, so I'm just doing homework and minding myself.
[Part of it counts as a good enough feeling. It means they think him perfectly capable. He can meet that expectation easily enough, he's sure. On the other hand, he's never spent a New Year's Eve without going to a shrine with his parents. That is, he supposes, part of adulthood.
A minute more, and he pushes aside his high school textbooks completely.]
What about you? How are you feeling? Aside from freshly risen from a coma.
Don't even think about lying!
You don't have to say a lot if you don't want to, but at least give me an idea
[He's self-aware enough to know that he's scowling at his phone. But...]
Since I was thinking about you
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i didn't throw anything away idiot
i just forgot where i put it!
there's a difference!
it's not like i get lost all the time even without a map
[This-- This is what he's used to, what he's more familiar with: Touya's incessant bitching. Honestly, he doesn't really know what to do when Touya decides to be extra nice to him, listening to him and holding his hands, telling him the things he's always wanted to hear. Like how he can't stand teaching games, Hikaru never wanted to be pitied for what he's lacking, even though he's a pitiable creature. He doesn't want Touya to have to walk on eggshells around him. Touya wouldn't do that, of course, not when he'd rather burst into bedrooms and throw open windows when it's freezing cold outside, but yeah... Any punches Touya has pulled, especially lately, can be blamed on Hikaru's stupid sensitivity. It was a few months ago when Touya insulted his Go--nothing unusual, just stating the facts--and Hikaru decided to walk out of the Go salon without saying anything. Touya actually texted him a little while later to ask him if he made it home safely. Touya shouldn't have had to do something like that. It wasn't like Hikaru stopped and thought about jumping off every bridge he came across. Not really. And even if he did, it wouldn't have been Touya's fault, when it's Hikaru who still plays like shit sometimes. Touya wants to see some improvement from his rival. That's all.
Anyway, Hikaru is halfway to asking if the invitation would mean being around Touya's parents for New Year's Eve. That would be pretty uncomfortable for a few reasons, but then Touya mentions they're out of the country and Hikaru purses his lips, deleting the question. Maybe Touya's only doing all this stuff because he's feeling lonely without them around. Well, that's fine. Hikaru knows all about the bone-scrape of loneliness, so he can understand what that can do to a person. And it's hard to be mad at someone when he understands that.]
i don't have anything going on
so we can meet up whenever
[His stomach isn't having a great time with the food, even though it's little more than plain noodles, but Hikaru is too stubborn to stop eating now that he's started. He'll just have to deal with the steady cramping as it comes. Unfortunately, Touya's probing and demanding texts don't do anything to lessen his bout of indigestion. Touya's trying to cut him some slack, maybe, even as he forces his way into a heart he can't understand...
Another short delay, and then:]
i feel like yesterday didn't even happen, like it was just a dream
but i guess it did happen or you wouldn't be saying this stuff to me
and that game we played together
it was like.....
[He still remembers what it was like: it got to the point where he wanted to climb into Touya's lap, pressing closer to him than any crucial attachment. Just straddling him right then and there, hands on his shoulders, forehead to forehead, recycling each other's humidified air... He tries to shake his head, then, as if that will dislodge the crude ideas worming their way through his brain. His priorities aren't what they should be right now.]
it made me feel good
[Well, I wasn't upset with you. Priorities, man...]
it's been like forever since the last time i felt that good about go or anything
so yeah
thank you
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No difference
If you put it where it doesn't matter it's the same as THROWING IT AWAY there's no difference. Don't do that this time.
[He'll write out the new set of directions responsibly. Shindou will need to be responsible with them. Irresponsibly, Akira's thoughts are abandoning these questions on civics. He's sweeping up his school books when Shindou says whenever. He waits out that delay between texts by settling his school bag over his shoulder. The other students in the library are non-entities to him; he spares them neither glance nor thought when he whisks his way between the tables. If anyone whispers about Touya Akira, top of his class, marching out of the library after doing makeup work during winter break, the whispers don't reach him. If anyone whispers that Touya Akira is allegedly second in his class right now, he's already out through the door.]
It felt like forever for me too.
[Which is insulting in its own way. It didn't need to feel like forever. He would have done that with Shindou so much sooner, if... well, if only he'd known what Shindou wanted in the first place. Truth be told, Akira still isn't certain he knows. Shindou is his own tug-of-war, and Akira wants to be sure of himself, of his strength, of the weight of his own pull. He refuses to let Shindou humiliate him by yanking him forward and leaving him flat in the mud.]
But I'm glad. That we had yesterday.
Take a bath
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of course there's a difference!
if i throw something away then that's my *intention*
if i misplace something then that's just an *honest mistake*
but i'll staple it to my forehead this time if it'll make you feel better
[What a moron. Hikaru shouldn't have to explain something so simple to the sterling genius who's on his way to another promotion as well as graduating at the top of his class. Erm, not that... Hikaru knows the second thing for a fact, since he doesn't ask about school all that often, but it's just what makes the most sense to him. By the way, they did end up getting that book of poetry together, with Hikaru making faces (stupid faces, in Touya's parlance) as he skimmed a few of the entries. The poems all seemed very sentimental and kind of depressing. Pretentious, like he said. It annoyed him that Touya saw something different...
And it's even more annoying that he can't get more than a dozen bites into his noodles. Seriously world-weary, he gives up on them and then gets up to find some plastic wrap for the bowl, so he can save the rest for later. He's tempted to just crawl back into bed for what's left of the day, but he knows that wouldn't be very responsible. He should at least record yesterday's game and seal it up inside the yellow binder.
Reading Touya's latest texts makes him feel a little queasier, a little guiltier, for being a constant thorn in Touya's side. He doesn't want to be responsible for Touya's skyrocketing levels of stress. Before all this started, somebody should've warned him that Touya Akira had nerves stretched as thin as a sheet of crepe paper.]
if i took a bath i'd have to get off the phone because the last time i tried to do both was a disaster
[Ah, yes, because who could forget that time he dropped his brand-new phone in the tub while arguing with Touya about the merits of high Chinese fuseki. He spent the next few days on tenterhooks, having buried his phone in a bag of rice, hoping all the moisture would be leeched from it. He literally paced back and forth in the Go salon on those days, not unlike a grieving father in the waiting room at the hospital. Naturally, he blamed Touya for distracting him--]
i'd rather talk to you
[Maybe he's sulking at the (?) suggestion (or was it an order?). He kind of forgot how much he liked talking to Touya about anything and everything.]
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This morning was the first time in days he's woken without a headache.]
Take
A
Bath
If you don't, it's going to feel like an *HONEST MISTAKE*
[This is now less about the bath itself. It's still a little about that: Shindou will feel better if he takes one, and Akira is sure of that. But, mostly, Akira wants to be listened to. If Shindou slips into the tub, he'll be listening to Akira, and so he'll be acknowledging that Akira says things worth hearing, and so he'll hear and understand that Akira knows the right things to do, and so... he'll do them. And then they'll both know the right things to do; they'll both be doing them.
It sounds nice, at least. Well, it sounds necessary. That crepe paper grows flimsier by the day.]
I'm giving you
Let's say
47 minutes.
[His brisk walk to the station, the train ride itself, and then his brisk walk from the station... that's about where it should even out. He doesn't give himself much of a buffer because he's determined to be correctly swift.]
Will you still want to talk to me in 47 minutes?
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He avoids looking in the bathroom mirror, as per usual. There's a little more liveliness to his face, and his eyes don't look like frosted glass anymore--he still doesn't want to look at himself. It's easier to set down the phone by the sink and shimmy his way out of the sweatshirt he's still wearing from yesterday. As soon as he came home, he went straight to his frozen-over meat locker of a bedroom, closed the damn window, and then passed out when his head hit the pillow. He's pretty lucky neither of his parents realized he jacked up the heating bill by leaving his window open for hours.
Back to the phone:]
47 minutes is oddly specific.....
[He shouldn't need that much time to take a bath, even if he went through every single hair care product he has on the shelf. Just as he's pulling one arm out of his long-sleeved shirt, that's when he realizes what Touya is getting at. He's a little slow on the uptake sometimes. Can't be helped.]
wait
you're coming over here?
[... Is that supposed to make him feel kind of nervous? Touya doesn't seem like he's on a warpath, not like he was yesterday, but it's still... Seeing Touya again, after telling him about Sai, after giving that info a day to sink in... Seeing Touya again because Touya wants to see him again... I came to you today because I wanted to be with you. That's it. That's why. Hikaru drags the long-sleeved shirt over his head, frowning at the smell of his stale sweat and anxiety. A full 47 minutes might not be enough time to make sure he doesn't look like total shit again. If he hurries himself up, though...]
i thought you were doing homework and stuff
[His face feels a little too warm right now. A quick, aghast glance at the mirror confirms his cheeks aren't the Go-player's-ivory they should be. God, it's really drilling straight through to his core to think of Touya wanting to see him as soon as possible. He didn't realize just how much Touya wanted to be with him. He didn't realize it for the longest time.]
i'll go take a bath then
but you could've just said you wanted to come over!
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[Akira isn't telling Shindou to stop arguing about everything—for Shindou to stop would do wonders for Akira's stress levels, sure, but Akira isn't trying to lose any part of Shindou. Not even the parts of him that ignite Akira into frenzies previously unheard of.
Well. If Akira could do without any parts of Shindou, it would be the ones that leave him a little more ghostly each time. Shindou is Shindou, but Akira much prefers his solidity. His earthly presence.]
I'll see you soon
[And, in the end, that's what matters. He hopes Shindou realizes that, too. Homework, yeah... he's supposed to be doing his homework... he's supposed to be catching up with his homework. But nothing matters so much as the ability to tell Shindou soon. This isn't the absence of a warpath. This is a tide-turning battle, decisive, and Shindou is gaining ground, advancing further and further into the field of Akira's thoughts. His colonies there have been thriving for some time, and Akira's had no luck with staving off those forces.
Akira's knocking is not unlike the drums of war, then. He arrives very nearly on the dot of his prediction, if only because he's been walking to the very limit of speed which qualifies as walking. Here and now, on Shindou's porch, he doesn't care enough about grace to look graceful about it. His hair is ruffled, for his troubles. Though still sleek, it's been blown out of place, stray strands in random places. His cheeks are red, too, from weather and energy both. Tucked up against his chin, he's wearing a scarf. It's the deep color of a handkerchief he owns... His school blazer, like charcoal linen, could stand to be pulled straight by the hems. Even so, he's able to keep his spine at a proud line. His mouth sits habitually in sternness, and his eyes have a too-earnest glint to them.
But Shindou opens the door to his home, and soon is now right here. Akira sees the pajama pants settled warm around Shindou's legs; he sees the bath towel situated atop his head. And Akira's lips look full again, mouth relaxing from stress. Something in his eyes uncoils. His face just grows much softer. His breaths billow away from him in bursts, for all his exertion in the cold, but he still looks like he's been warmed.]
I didn't have time to stop and bring anything with me, [he says, but it's too light to be prim.] Since I came straight from the train.
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But the first thing Hikaru did after their fight was to visit the website of the school Touya had mentioned. Specifically, he wanted to know what their spring and winter uniforms looked like. He really was going to raise holy hell if Touya had chosen a place with despicable uniforms. Lines in the sand had to be drawn at sweater vests and similar shit for sure. No rival of Shindou Hikaru's would be allowed to wear a styleless outfit for a prolonged period of time.
The uniforms turned out to be... well, they aren't that bad, honestly. They aren't bad at all. Looking at Touya now, out there on his doorstep, Hikaru has to admit Touya himself makes the uniform look the complete opposite of bad. The website said something about how it was designed with dignity and beauty in mind--which Touya already has in spades--but these colors, these textures, really bring out the best in him. The first time he saw Touya in this new uniform, at the Go salon, his heart may or may not have skipped several beats in a row... Right now, his gaze is also lingering on the length of Touya's dark blue scarf--not the cream-colored one, today. Touya, he thinks, and that's all he has to think, feeling warmer.]
You're twenty seconds late, you know.
[He holds up his cell phone, in his other hand, showing off the stopwatch app he has been running. 47:20, 47:21, 47:22... Then, smiling in disbelief, he opens the door wider for Touya to come inside and out of the cold. The house itself is warm, actually cozy, with a kind of comfortable semidarkness due to the lights being turned off. Only Hikaru's bedroom offers a slant of light at the top of the stairs. He pockets his phone, closes the door behind Touya, and returns to towel-drying his hair vigorously.]
But you didn't have to rush over here like a fucking maniac. [His voice is warm, but it doesn't have the heat of a real insult.] If you do want a snack, or a drink, or something, there's some stuff in the kitchen... [Isumi-san has only visited him at his house once. Waya, also, was just the one time, when his parents and Waya's parents had dinner together. But Touya has already visited him two times, already, amazingly, and Hikaru wonders if that means anything or if it's just wishful thinking.] My parents won't be home for a while, I guess, so... [There's probably some etiquette he should be following right now, to properly invite someone into his home, but for the life of him he can't remember how it's supposed to go. Is a bunch of bowing involved? Like, probably? It comes up with everything else, pretty much...
But he's too busy staring at the curious evening shadows and how they cling to Touya's reddened cheeks.]
My room? [he asks, more tentative than he would like to be.]
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You took forever to open the door.
[During other times, that can and will be a complaint. Here, the cherry of Akira's cheeks translates into benevolence. Shindou's stopwatch causes more than a flutter. This isn't so gentle as butterflies. Akira feels as though his oxygen has gotten lost somewhere inside him, knowing that Shindou was timing him, waiting second by second, just like Akira was.
The mellow warmth of Shindou's home is inviting—Akira feels invited, welcomed, even when Shindou seems like he doesn't know quite what to do with himself. When Akira takes one last breath of winter air, he knows what to do. He needs to be certain of that. As Shindou shuts the door, Akira stands tall—a little taller all the time—and pulls that scarf away from his body. When he drops his school bag onto the stoop, it's heavy. All those extra books, all that overextending of intent. He won't allow himself to slouch when speaking of school, like Yashirou tended to. The line of his dark blazer is a line of dignity.
But it's nice to toe out of his shoes in Shindou's entryway; it's nice to bend, hook his fingers at their mouths, and set them neatly aside. Akira doesn't need Shindou to bow or wring his hands or welcome him with flattering language. He just needs Shindou to let him in, like this, allowed to move through the dim and quiet of Shindou's surroundings.] Your room, [he confirms, no space here for indefinite actions. He raises his hands to his own reddened cheeks, dipping his fingers into evening shadows, and then begins to smooth down his hair. Less of a maniac, perhaps (hopefully). He's glancing around, into the house, while he does this, and he gives an idle, thoughtless sniff. It's just the sort of thing that naturally happens with a body, when one isn't paying attention. With his scarf tucked over his arm, Akira settles down the last of his windblown flyaways... His eyes migrate back to Shindou. His hand hesitates up at his crown. This house seems very quiet.
Akira breezes past Shindou's stare, steps up onto the stoop, and inclines to retrieve his bag.]
I came for your room, [he reminds Shindou, still facing into the house,] not your kitchen.
[This time, he's not advancing up the stairs like a grim reaper. He flings open no doors, no windows. He doesn't invite himself onto Shindou's bed in order to be angry and commanding. He's much more respectful about being in Shindou's space; he just picks an open spot, sets his book bag neatly onto the floor, and kneels with his hands in his lap.]
Since Yashirou-kun won't be here to save you this time, I didn't want to give you your directions last minute. Plus, [he says, and his head tilts back to look at where Shindou is standing,] I wanted to come.
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