[Fic] Crossing Boundaries 3/? (Hikaru no Go)
Title: Crossing Boundaries (Chapter 3: Shift)
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Le Ping, Isumi, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 2850+ words / G
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to aiwritingfic's bed and chaineddove's go books.
Previous chapters: Mistranslation and Resolve.
When he awoke, Isumi wasn't as surprised as he had been yesterday morning to find Le Ping's arms wrapped around him again. He sighed, hoping this wasn't going to become a habit but fearing it already had. There wasn't any point in making a fuss; Isumi was sure Le Ping knew how Isumi felt about the arm-wrapping. He watched Le Ping sleep for a moment and wondered how he was doing. Last night, the boy had been loud and boisterous over dinner, but otherwise not very eager to talk of go. Instead, they had gone to bed early, and Isumi hadn't had the heart to tell Le Ping to stop holding him, especially when he seemed to have been hit so hard by the loss to Oka. Perhaps this morning Isumi would treat him to a meal, and splurge for a large breakfast set at Yoshinoya. Le Ping would probably like that.
That aside, though, they did need to wake up if they were going to eat before this afternoon's match. "Le Ping," he said, shaking the other, not really hoping for much of a response. "Let go, it's time to wake up."
Le Ping made a displeased, sleepy noise, but opened his eyes after a few moments of Isumi's insistent shaking. His hair was all over the place again and it seemed that looking rumpled and disconcertingly cute in the mornings was something he did automatically. "Hmm?" he said, blinked, then yawned. The arms around Isumi's waist tightened a moment before Le Ping let his head drop back to Isumi's shoulder and spoke again. "Already is morning?"
"Yes," Isumi said, patting Le Ping's arm. "Let go, Le Ping, I can't get up." He still couldn't find any real heat to scold Le Ping for wrapping himself around him again.
For some reason, Le Ping acquiesced with surprising ease considering Isumi's experience the previous morning. "Okay," he said, and let go, just like that. "You will using bathroom first? I can making the tea this time."
Isumi gaped for a moment before remembering to shut his mouth. "Oh," he said, not realizing he'd said it. That had not been what he had expected at all. He'd thought he would need a few more minutes of convincing Le Ping to let go, and then some more minutes coaxing him to let Isumi get up. This wasn't a bad development, but Isumi felt it was as if Honda had pulled out a move one expected from Shindou instead. Had he missed something?
Whatever it was, he was wasting time by merely sitting there, Isumi realized a moment later. "It's all right," he said. "I'll make tea. Go on and use the bathroom." He stood, feeling strangely bereft. Perhaps it was the change of seasons--it might just be that time of year. He refused to think that it might be anything else.
Le Ping rose shortly after he did and headed into the bathroom. Isumi heard the water running, and when his guest came back a few minutes later, his hair was combed out of his face and his eyes looked a great deal more alert. He poured himself a cup of tea from the waiting teapot and settled down at the table to drink it. "Game with Korea at noon today, yes?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically serious.
"Yes," Isumi replied, eyes following Le Ping as he settled onto the cushion. Le Ping was sipping his tea just like he had yesterday, but he looked somehow different this morning. "Are you worried about Kim Myeongyun?" he asked, referring to the thirteen-year-old Korean prodigy who had come out of nowhere to slip into the second slot on the Korean team with the shadow of Ko Yongha hovering just behind. He was rumored to be nearly as good as Hong Suyong, who was playing his last year as first board just a month before his eighteenth birthday.
"Not worried," Le Ping said immediately, though Isumi had a feeling that might not be entirely true, judging by his face and the immediate delivery of the reply. "I think I telling you yesterday that I will winning today no matter who being opponent, no matter who being teacher, no matter who being last year's champion. Too important for losing again."
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," Isumi said, feeling a little worried. He set the teapot down and shifted, a little uneasy. This conversation sounded all too similar to one Isumi himself had said to Yang Hai in China a few years ago. "It's only a friendly game, Le Ping. I know you'll do your best." Le Ping really did look quite unlike his usual self--there wasn't enough of a smile on his face, and his brows were furrowed.
"More than just friendly game, with these many people coming to see, with big prize and exhibition and everything," Le Ping disagreed. "And then, you there watching too, so absolutely have to win this one."
"Hey, you shouldn't think like that," Isumi said worriedly, reaching out to smooth out the wrinkle in Le Ping's brow. At the last moment, he caught himself--that was close! What's wrong with me?--and patted Le Ping's head instead in a practiced, platonic gesture. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Le Ping. You'll make us worry."
"No need to worrying," Le Ping said, and favored Isumi with a smile full of obviously false bravado. "No need, because it will be fine, Isumi. I winning game today. You watch me." And that, apparently, was that.
***
Zhao Shi took the first victory against Korea's Hong Suyong with relative ease, but Zheng Guo-rong's win over Su Rongwon was what had Yang Hai glowing with pride. "He did it," Yang Hai said to Isumi with a grin. "Zheng Guo-rong's been aiming to defeat Su for the past year." China's victory over Korea was certain.
Le Ping's over Kim Myeongyun was less so. Unfortunately, Kim was as proving as intractable on the goban as his instructor was. Isumi thought it probably didn't help that Ko Yongha was smirking throughout the game at Le Ping with an expression that clearly said Ko didn't expect the Chinese player to put up any sort of fight at all. Isumi felt his heart clench; he had been in that position. Trying too hard, being too self-aware. And now he had to watch Le Ping struggle to regain his position, knowing he was just unbalanced enough to lose.
"He's stronger than I was," Isumi murmured to Yang Hai, both of them watching tensely from the first row, just two seats away from the infuriatingly smirking Ko. Sometimes it was easy to see why Shindou couldn't stand him. "He shouldn't have fallen apart from yesterday's loss to Oka."
Yang Hai gave Isumi a look that seemed to be both pitying and exasperated. "Isumi-kun," Yang Hai said, "there are many things which can affect one's game. Le Ping happens to be staying with one of the biggest influences he's ever going to have."
"Nothing happened," Isumi said a little quickly.
"Maybe that's my point," Yang Hai said.
Isumi could feel the onset of a headache.
At the goban, Le Ping's voice barely rose above a whisper. "I have nothing."
***
By the time Le Ping finally came out into the spectator seats from the backstage area, the game had been over twenty minutes and most of the people had left. Zhao Shi and Zheng Guo-rong were long gone, pulled away by those who had come along to cheer them on and were eager to celebrate China's victory over last year's champions. Before leaving, Yang Hai had spoken to Isumi with a serious look on his face. "Take care of him," Yang Hai had said. "You're partly responsible for that loss, you know." Ignoring Isumi's protests, Yang Hai had then gone with the rest of the Chinese delegation at their prompting, leaving Isumi alone to wait for his houseguest. Some Japanese players tried to coax him away for a celebration of their own--if Japan defeated Korea tomorrow, they would win this tournament for the first time in three years--but Isumi waved them off and stayed in the emptying hall.
It was obvious Le Ping didn't share his team's spirit of jubilation. His eyes were downcast and his gait slow as he approached, and he didn't look to be in a hurry to say anything at all, so Isumi had to break the silence first. "There you are," he said when Le Ping stopped in front of him. He looked at Le Ping's down-turned face and sighed inwardly. He couldn't blame Le Ping for how he felt at the moment; in his place, Isumi would have felt the same. He felt the urge to ruffle Le Ping's hair, but restrained himself, and patted Le Ping's head lightly instead. "Let's go. I'll buy you some hamburgers," he said. Considering it was Le Ping, food should be the first step in a recovery.
"Not hungry," Le Ping told him in a quiet voice, and if nothing else, that would have been a clue that something was cataclysmically wrong. "Thank you, Isumi, but maybe not eating until later. Is all right if just going home now? Not feel good, so rather not go for big party. Can always congratulate Zhao and Zheng Guo-rong tomorrow, they not going anywhere."
"All right," Isumi said agreeably, though he was worried inside.
They bought lunchboxes from a convenience store on the way back. Le Ping was silent all the way. Finally, outside the apartment, Isumi paused, and handed the bags to Le Ping. "Hold this for a moment?" he asked, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Le Ping accepted the bags silently and just stood there, holding them with that same expression on his face. When Isumi unlocked the door, he turned to see Le Ping, arms still bent, bags gripped carelessly.
This was indeed serious, Isumi thought. He guided Le Ping into the apartment, and then set everything down. "Le Ping, go sit down at the table," he said, patting Le Ping lightly on the shoulder.
Isumi filled the electric kettle and set it to boil. Before he opened the cabinets, he turned to look at Le Ping, who was indeed sitting obediently beside the kotatsu, and paused. Le Ping had grown up; for a moment, he really looked like Waya had after failing the pro examinations yet again. Never mind that Isumi himself had failed more often--he didn't think he had ever worn this quietly tragic expression. Isumi sighed; this was getting very worrying. A Le Ping that didn't want to eat. Isumi wondered what Yang Hai would say in this position, and reached for the blue tin in the back of the cabinet. Waya never said no to hot chocolate. Perhaps it would tempt Le Ping too.
Two minutes later, he set a steaming mug in front of Le Ping and sat down beside him. "Have some," he said kindly. "You haven't eaten since breakfast."
Le Ping looked at the cocoa dubiously but eventually took a tiny sip, then a second, larger one. "Thank you," he replied. "Is good." He even managed a bit of a smile, though it wasn't much compared to his usual cheer.
"Have more," Isumi said, sipping his own. So far so good. Waya always felt better after a good game of go, too. "After that, we can play."
"No, I not play with you, Isumi," Le Ping said very seriously, the smile fleeing his face as quickly as it had come. "Is not point like this."
"No point?" Isumi asked. "Why not? You used to ask me for ten games in a row. Last time I was in China, you kept me up half the night until you won one."
Le Ping sighed heavily in a way that didn't suit him at all. "But is not good enough now, so wasting your time, like last two days. I know I telling creepy old man that we rivals yesterday, but you right, of course, and I still just kid who not worth anything. I sorry you having to watch that after me telling all those things. I not good enough now, so just looking stupid after boasting that way, you thinking so too, I think."
Isumi could be kind and tell Le Ping it had been an excellent game, but it hadn't been. He knew Le Ping was aware of it, too. "You'll do better next year," he said instead. "If it's being held in Japan, you should come and stay with me again."
"Maybe, if they not kicking me off team and replacing with Huang Jiahui, who nearly beating me in preliminary this year. He winning our last unofficial game, too." He shrugged. "Many good players waiting to take position in international tournament. Is prestigious, so everyone want to play, bring honor to China, make good name while still young. After today, maybe they thinking Huang Jiahui better choice."
"Before the match with him, were you pressuring yourself like you were this morning?" Isumi asked gently. "You really shouldn't. That's how I lost so many games to you, you know." He ruffled Le Ping's hair lightly. When had his hair become so soft?
Le Ping closed his eyes a moment, accepting the gesture of affection. When he finally spoke again, he said very quietly, "Of course I nervous in preliminary. So nervous, I think last time it like that when testing to be professional. Just wanting so bad to come Japan and see you, and only one game to decide. Already two years since I see you last, so thinking it finally perfect time now, especially after I win Huang Jiahui by half moku. But is too early still."
The implications of that were probably better left unexplored, so Isumi left them alone. Instead, he said, "It doesn't always have to be go, you know." His fingers played with the soft strands of Le Ping's hair. He thought the boy was getting some sort of comfort from it, so he kept doing it. "Come here for a visit any time you want. You know how to look up my match schedules, so you can choose a time that's convenient. Or I suppose I should go back to China for another visit. Li-sensei will be wondering whether I've forgotten his kindness in letting me stay and study."
Le Ping gave him a strange look that was impossible to read. "Right now, go is only thing there is," he said. "Can only be about go. But you always welcome coming China even so, though I have room with Zhao now, so you probably staying with Yang Hai again unless I manage bribing Zhao into going to visit family in Guangdong."
"Go's important," Isumi said, nodding his agreement. "Le Ping and Yang Hai are important too, though." He patted Le Ping's head again, failing to notice just how often he was doing that lately. "More hot chocolate?"
Le Ping smiled again, a little less forlornly this time, and held out his empty cup for a refill. "Okay. Then maybe food after that."
"Sure," Isumi agreed, glad that the crisis seemed to have passed.
***
It wasn't until considerably later, when Le Ping was (yet again) curled up against Isumi with his arms around Isumi's waist that Isumi realized to his horror that he was back to stroking Le Ping's hair and Le Ping's face was burrowed into his shoulder. On the third consecutive night of this behavior on his guest's part, Isumi had become so accustomed to it that he hadn't even protested when a sleepy Le Ping had snuggled into his side--and now he was stroking the boy's hair and Le Ping's breath was tickling his shoulder and this all seemed perfectly acceptable until he actively thought about it. And even after thinking about it, his hand kept running through the soft mass of Le Ping's hair until he ordered himself to stop being ridiculous.
Despite his many claims to himself and others that Le Ping was still a child, all Isumi could think of now was how much the boy had grown up, and how funny it was that he still looked so much like Waya even though he was now a good five centimeters taller. And then Isumi froze, because a very strange and unsettling thought was insinuating itself into his mind, the only thing that made any sort of logical sense under the circumstances.
Wait a minute... I like Waya?!!?
Next: Delusion
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Le Ping, Isumi, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 2850+ words / G
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to aiwritingfic's bed and chaineddove's go books.
Previous chapters: Mistranslation and Resolve.
When he awoke, Isumi wasn't as surprised as he had been yesterday morning to find Le Ping's arms wrapped around him again. He sighed, hoping this wasn't going to become a habit but fearing it already had. There wasn't any point in making a fuss; Isumi was sure Le Ping knew how Isumi felt about the arm-wrapping. He watched Le Ping sleep for a moment and wondered how he was doing. Last night, the boy had been loud and boisterous over dinner, but otherwise not very eager to talk of go. Instead, they had gone to bed early, and Isumi hadn't had the heart to tell Le Ping to stop holding him, especially when he seemed to have been hit so hard by the loss to Oka. Perhaps this morning Isumi would treat him to a meal, and splurge for a large breakfast set at Yoshinoya. Le Ping would probably like that.
That aside, though, they did need to wake up if they were going to eat before this afternoon's match. "Le Ping," he said, shaking the other, not really hoping for much of a response. "Let go, it's time to wake up."
Le Ping made a displeased, sleepy noise, but opened his eyes after a few moments of Isumi's insistent shaking. His hair was all over the place again and it seemed that looking rumpled and disconcertingly cute in the mornings was something he did automatically. "Hmm?" he said, blinked, then yawned. The arms around Isumi's waist tightened a moment before Le Ping let his head drop back to Isumi's shoulder and spoke again. "Already is morning?"
"Yes," Isumi said, patting Le Ping's arm. "Let go, Le Ping, I can't get up." He still couldn't find any real heat to scold Le Ping for wrapping himself around him again.
For some reason, Le Ping acquiesced with surprising ease considering Isumi's experience the previous morning. "Okay," he said, and let go, just like that. "You will using bathroom first? I can making the tea this time."
Isumi gaped for a moment before remembering to shut his mouth. "Oh," he said, not realizing he'd said it. That had not been what he had expected at all. He'd thought he would need a few more minutes of convincing Le Ping to let go, and then some more minutes coaxing him to let Isumi get up. This wasn't a bad development, but Isumi felt it was as if Honda had pulled out a move one expected from Shindou instead. Had he missed something?
Whatever it was, he was wasting time by merely sitting there, Isumi realized a moment later. "It's all right," he said. "I'll make tea. Go on and use the bathroom." He stood, feeling strangely bereft. Perhaps it was the change of seasons--it might just be that time of year. He refused to think that it might be anything else.
Le Ping rose shortly after he did and headed into the bathroom. Isumi heard the water running, and when his guest came back a few minutes later, his hair was combed out of his face and his eyes looked a great deal more alert. He poured himself a cup of tea from the waiting teapot and settled down at the table to drink it. "Game with Korea at noon today, yes?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically serious.
"Yes," Isumi replied, eyes following Le Ping as he settled onto the cushion. Le Ping was sipping his tea just like he had yesterday, but he looked somehow different this morning. "Are you worried about Kim Myeongyun?" he asked, referring to the thirteen-year-old Korean prodigy who had come out of nowhere to slip into the second slot on the Korean team with the shadow of Ko Yongha hovering just behind. He was rumored to be nearly as good as Hong Suyong, who was playing his last year as first board just a month before his eighteenth birthday.
"Not worried," Le Ping said immediately, though Isumi had a feeling that might not be entirely true, judging by his face and the immediate delivery of the reply. "I think I telling you yesterday that I will winning today no matter who being opponent, no matter who being teacher, no matter who being last year's champion. Too important for losing again."
"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," Isumi said, feeling a little worried. He set the teapot down and shifted, a little uneasy. This conversation sounded all too similar to one Isumi himself had said to Yang Hai in China a few years ago. "It's only a friendly game, Le Ping. I know you'll do your best." Le Ping really did look quite unlike his usual self--there wasn't enough of a smile on his face, and his brows were furrowed.
"More than just friendly game, with these many people coming to see, with big prize and exhibition and everything," Le Ping disagreed. "And then, you there watching too, so absolutely have to win this one."
"Hey, you shouldn't think like that," Isumi said worriedly, reaching out to smooth out the wrinkle in Le Ping's brow. At the last moment, he caught himself--that was close! What's wrong with me?--and patted Le Ping's head instead in a practiced, platonic gesture. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself, Le Ping. You'll make us worry."
"No need to worrying," Le Ping said, and favored Isumi with a smile full of obviously false bravado. "No need, because it will be fine, Isumi. I winning game today. You watch me." And that, apparently, was that.
***
Zhao Shi took the first victory against Korea's Hong Suyong with relative ease, but Zheng Guo-rong's win over Su Rongwon was what had Yang Hai glowing with pride. "He did it," Yang Hai said to Isumi with a grin. "Zheng Guo-rong's been aiming to defeat Su for the past year." China's victory over Korea was certain.
Le Ping's over Kim Myeongyun was less so. Unfortunately, Kim was as proving as intractable on the goban as his instructor was. Isumi thought it probably didn't help that Ko Yongha was smirking throughout the game at Le Ping with an expression that clearly said Ko didn't expect the Chinese player to put up any sort of fight at all. Isumi felt his heart clench; he had been in that position. Trying too hard, being too self-aware. And now he had to watch Le Ping struggle to regain his position, knowing he was just unbalanced enough to lose.
"He's stronger than I was," Isumi murmured to Yang Hai, both of them watching tensely from the first row, just two seats away from the infuriatingly smirking Ko. Sometimes it was easy to see why Shindou couldn't stand him. "He shouldn't have fallen apart from yesterday's loss to Oka."
Yang Hai gave Isumi a look that seemed to be both pitying and exasperated. "Isumi-kun," Yang Hai said, "there are many things which can affect one's game. Le Ping happens to be staying with one of the biggest influences he's ever going to have."
"Nothing happened," Isumi said a little quickly.
"Maybe that's my point," Yang Hai said.
Isumi could feel the onset of a headache.
At the goban, Le Ping's voice barely rose above a whisper. "I have nothing."
***
By the time Le Ping finally came out into the spectator seats from the backstage area, the game had been over twenty minutes and most of the people had left. Zhao Shi and Zheng Guo-rong were long gone, pulled away by those who had come along to cheer them on and were eager to celebrate China's victory over last year's champions. Before leaving, Yang Hai had spoken to Isumi with a serious look on his face. "Take care of him," Yang Hai had said. "You're partly responsible for that loss, you know." Ignoring Isumi's protests, Yang Hai had then gone with the rest of the Chinese delegation at their prompting, leaving Isumi alone to wait for his houseguest. Some Japanese players tried to coax him away for a celebration of their own--if Japan defeated Korea tomorrow, they would win this tournament for the first time in three years--but Isumi waved them off and stayed in the emptying hall.
It was obvious Le Ping didn't share his team's spirit of jubilation. His eyes were downcast and his gait slow as he approached, and he didn't look to be in a hurry to say anything at all, so Isumi had to break the silence first. "There you are," he said when Le Ping stopped in front of him. He looked at Le Ping's down-turned face and sighed inwardly. He couldn't blame Le Ping for how he felt at the moment; in his place, Isumi would have felt the same. He felt the urge to ruffle Le Ping's hair, but restrained himself, and patted Le Ping's head lightly instead. "Let's go. I'll buy you some hamburgers," he said. Considering it was Le Ping, food should be the first step in a recovery.
"Not hungry," Le Ping told him in a quiet voice, and if nothing else, that would have been a clue that something was cataclysmically wrong. "Thank you, Isumi, but maybe not eating until later. Is all right if just going home now? Not feel good, so rather not go for big party. Can always congratulate Zhao and Zheng Guo-rong tomorrow, they not going anywhere."
"All right," Isumi said agreeably, though he was worried inside.
They bought lunchboxes from a convenience store on the way back. Le Ping was silent all the way. Finally, outside the apartment, Isumi paused, and handed the bags to Le Ping. "Hold this for a moment?" he asked, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Le Ping accepted the bags silently and just stood there, holding them with that same expression on his face. When Isumi unlocked the door, he turned to see Le Ping, arms still bent, bags gripped carelessly.
This was indeed serious, Isumi thought. He guided Le Ping into the apartment, and then set everything down. "Le Ping, go sit down at the table," he said, patting Le Ping lightly on the shoulder.
Isumi filled the electric kettle and set it to boil. Before he opened the cabinets, he turned to look at Le Ping, who was indeed sitting obediently beside the kotatsu, and paused. Le Ping had grown up; for a moment, he really looked like Waya had after failing the pro examinations yet again. Never mind that Isumi himself had failed more often--he didn't think he had ever worn this quietly tragic expression. Isumi sighed; this was getting very worrying. A Le Ping that didn't want to eat. Isumi wondered what Yang Hai would say in this position, and reached for the blue tin in the back of the cabinet. Waya never said no to hot chocolate. Perhaps it would tempt Le Ping too.
Two minutes later, he set a steaming mug in front of Le Ping and sat down beside him. "Have some," he said kindly. "You haven't eaten since breakfast."
Le Ping looked at the cocoa dubiously but eventually took a tiny sip, then a second, larger one. "Thank you," he replied. "Is good." He even managed a bit of a smile, though it wasn't much compared to his usual cheer.
"Have more," Isumi said, sipping his own. So far so good. Waya always felt better after a good game of go, too. "After that, we can play."
"No, I not play with you, Isumi," Le Ping said very seriously, the smile fleeing his face as quickly as it had come. "Is not point like this."
"No point?" Isumi asked. "Why not? You used to ask me for ten games in a row. Last time I was in China, you kept me up half the night until you won one."
Le Ping sighed heavily in a way that didn't suit him at all. "But is not good enough now, so wasting your time, like last two days. I know I telling creepy old man that we rivals yesterday, but you right, of course, and I still just kid who not worth anything. I sorry you having to watch that after me telling all those things. I not good enough now, so just looking stupid after boasting that way, you thinking so too, I think."
Isumi could be kind and tell Le Ping it had been an excellent game, but it hadn't been. He knew Le Ping was aware of it, too. "You'll do better next year," he said instead. "If it's being held in Japan, you should come and stay with me again."
"Maybe, if they not kicking me off team and replacing with Huang Jiahui, who nearly beating me in preliminary this year. He winning our last unofficial game, too." He shrugged. "Many good players waiting to take position in international tournament. Is prestigious, so everyone want to play, bring honor to China, make good name while still young. After today, maybe they thinking Huang Jiahui better choice."
"Before the match with him, were you pressuring yourself like you were this morning?" Isumi asked gently. "You really shouldn't. That's how I lost so many games to you, you know." He ruffled Le Ping's hair lightly. When had his hair become so soft?
Le Ping closed his eyes a moment, accepting the gesture of affection. When he finally spoke again, he said very quietly, "Of course I nervous in preliminary. So nervous, I think last time it like that when testing to be professional. Just wanting so bad to come Japan and see you, and only one game to decide. Already two years since I see you last, so thinking it finally perfect time now, especially after I win Huang Jiahui by half moku. But is too early still."
The implications of that were probably better left unexplored, so Isumi left them alone. Instead, he said, "It doesn't always have to be go, you know." His fingers played with the soft strands of Le Ping's hair. He thought the boy was getting some sort of comfort from it, so he kept doing it. "Come here for a visit any time you want. You know how to look up my match schedules, so you can choose a time that's convenient. Or I suppose I should go back to China for another visit. Li-sensei will be wondering whether I've forgotten his kindness in letting me stay and study."
Le Ping gave him a strange look that was impossible to read. "Right now, go is only thing there is," he said. "Can only be about go. But you always welcome coming China even so, though I have room with Zhao now, so you probably staying with Yang Hai again unless I manage bribing Zhao into going to visit family in Guangdong."
"Go's important," Isumi said, nodding his agreement. "Le Ping and Yang Hai are important too, though." He patted Le Ping's head again, failing to notice just how often he was doing that lately. "More hot chocolate?"
Le Ping smiled again, a little less forlornly this time, and held out his empty cup for a refill. "Okay. Then maybe food after that."
"Sure," Isumi agreed, glad that the crisis seemed to have passed.
***
It wasn't until considerably later, when Le Ping was (yet again) curled up against Isumi with his arms around Isumi's waist that Isumi realized to his horror that he was back to stroking Le Ping's hair and Le Ping's face was burrowed into his shoulder. On the third consecutive night of this behavior on his guest's part, Isumi had become so accustomed to it that he hadn't even protested when a sleepy Le Ping had snuggled into his side--and now he was stroking the boy's hair and Le Ping's breath was tickling his shoulder and this all seemed perfectly acceptable until he actively thought about it. And even after thinking about it, his hand kept running through the soft mass of Le Ping's hair until he ordered himself to stop being ridiculous.
Despite his many claims to himself and others that Le Ping was still a child, all Isumi could think of now was how much the boy had grown up, and how funny it was that he still looked so much like Waya even though he was now a good five centimeters taller. And then Isumi froze, because a very strange and unsettling thought was insinuating itself into his mind, the only thing that made any sort of logical sense under the circumstances.
Wait a minute... I like Waya?!!?
Next: Delusion