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- - - - - October, I - - - - -
For a perfect five seconds, silence reigned in the Touya Go salon. Hikaru quirked his head to the side, contemplating. All things considered, he didn't really want to be the one to bring it up…perhaps if he pretended like he needed to count territory again, just to be sure?
Then a faint cough came from one of the spectators to the right of the board, and as though it were some metaphysical signal, bedlam arose. Hikaru's eyes snapped over to the old man at the sound, and then just as quickly back to the board and his opponent…wait. Touya hadn't been watching the board.
Touya had been watching him.
"Uh..." Hikaru began intelligently, with a nervously wide grin. He lifted his arm as though to scratch the back of his neck, but even before his well-calloused fingertips had alighted, Touya bolted from the room. The babble from the geriatric gallery, previously a quiet din, rose to a pointed roar.
Oh, Hikaru thought. Oh, no.
- - - - - October, II - - - - -
The pounding at the door rose to a fever pitch, and Ogata ceased wiping his glasses long enough to pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the impending headache. I swear, he mused as he glared sullenly at the door, if one more jilted boyfriend finds his way over here, I'm calling the cops...
Grumbling lightly at the effort, Ogata rose from his chair and crossed the few feet necessary to arrive before the door to his apartment. He sighed and flipped the deadbolt, stepping back before swinging the door open a crack. He blinked in surprise, his attempt at a menacing expression slipping away as he stared down at the small figure before him.
Akira Touya glared at him determinedly from beneath a fringe of bangs haphazardly stuck to his forehead. He was flushed, breathless, yet still his eyes blazed with heat. Ogata considered his earlier thought, chuckling. I wonder what he'd do if I suggested it...well, better keep that thought in the back pocket for now.
Ogata opened the door fully, welcoming his guest with a gesture toward the entryway. "Akira-kun. What brings you here this evening?" he asked, although his mental gears were already churning out the response: Angry, physically and emotionally taxed, and disregarding protocol entirely. Certainly, all signs point to Shindou...
Akira stepped inside the apartment, shoving the door closed with just a touch more force than strictly necessary. "Play me," he said simply, his gaze never leaving Ogata's.
So that's what happened, Ogata thought. Privately he spared a thought for his wounded pride, but he only moved toward the kitchen instead. "Why?" he called out as he pawed through the refrigerator.
"Ogata-sensei!" Akira practically whined from the living room. "Play me!" Almost as an afterthought, he added, "Please."
Ogata looked up from his rummaging. "Don't you have any sense of manners? You show up here unannounced and demand a game without even explaining yourself. Your father would be disappointed." At least he has the sense to look chagrined, Ogata noted, and so he relented. "Beer?"
Akira shook his head slightly; Ogata put one can back before closing the refrigerator and stepping back into the living room. "Very well," he warned, "but don't expect me to go easy on you either; really, you must be some kind of masochist to come here after that..."
But Akira was no longer listening, instead stalking his way over to the chairs by the goban.
- - - - - November - - - - -
Hikaru nudged his head up from his arms, features clouded as he contemplated the figure across from him before speaking. Eventually, he uttered softly, "So you don't hate me?"
Akira wadded up the paper wrapper from his straw and flicked it toward Hikaru. It bounced weakly off his forehead. "Idiot," he drawled. But his expression turned serious, and he straightened in his chair. "It certainly took long enough, though. It would be foolish to say I never saw it coming."
Hikaru smiled ruefully at his erstwhile opponent and lifelong rival. "Two years and six months, yeah, I'd say that's long enough."
Akira smirked as he rose to leave. "Don't start thinking I'll let you make a habit of it, or anything," he called over his shoulder. Predictably, he was met with a counterattack, the cry of "What do you mean, 'let me'? Hey, Touya, you take that back!" growing louder as Shindou struggled to clean up and run after him. The crunch of leaves alerted him to Hikaru's proximity seconds before a warm hand closed on his shoulder. Akira faltered – "Shindou," he murmured softly, wonderingly – before Hikaru let go, steps falling into pace with Touya as the two walked on in a companionable silence.