Challenge #21. I know, you thought this feature had died...
I... have no real excuse this time. Except maybe that Hikago challenges are CURSED I TELL YOU. I DO MY BEST, OKAY!?
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Challenge: Incident, awkward, alcohol
Challenger: aoyagi
Title: To the Rescue
Genre: Craaaaaaaaaaaaack
Rating: PG-13?
Pairing: Akira/Hikaru
Wordcount: 1,384
Description: Hikaru isn't overreacting. Really. Includes creepy Ogata, strip Go, assault by silk scarf, and all manner of silliness.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru no Go. If Hotta and Obata saw what I was doing with their characters, they might have an apoplectic fit...
***
Ogata 10-dan was Bad News. Hikaru had known this instinctively even before the aforementioned man had pinned him to a hospital corridor wall and asked all sorts of uncomfortable questions-now, he really knew to keep out of said man’s way as much as the smallish world of professional Go would allow.
Unfortunately for Hikaru, his infuriatingly oblivious boyfriend didn’t seem to share this opinion. No matter how often Hikaru told him that Ogata was creepy and he looked at Akira in a way that was really creepy, things like this still happened.
Hikaru,
Ogata-san has invited me over for a game this evening.
I’ll be home late-don’t wait up.
-Akira
“Like hell,” Hikaru said, dropping the note he had found on the goban in the living room, and stormed out of the house to save stupid, stupid Akira from the evil and twisted perversions of one Ogata 10-dan.
***
He detoured to the Go Institute, and ended up yelling at the receptionist, because the entire way there, his overactive imagination had been gleefully supplying him with images of things that could be happening right now while he wasted his time. “Look, he may have some alternate dimension of creepy that he resides in, but he has to have some base of operations here on earth! In Tokyo! With a closet full of white suits!” And my STUPID boyfriend at his mercy!
The girl behind the desk looked mildly terrified, as though he was about to vault over its protective barrier and strangle her with her silk scarf. Which he was considering. “Shindou-san, I’ve told you already, I can’t just give out-”
“He’s the creepy stalker! Not me! I’m a titleholder!” Which didn’t necessarily exempt one from being a stalker, because Ogata was 10-dan, after all. And Meijin, until Akira ripped the title from him in a few months. But it sounded good.
The girl did not look impressed. “Shindou-Ouza,” she said, emphasizing his title, “I’m afraid I can’t give a pro’s address to anyone.”
“You gave mine to Isumi-san that one time!” Hikaru pleaded.
“Isumi-san wasn’t quite as…” she seemed unable to come up with a proper adjective. Hikaru proceeded to try climbing over the desk in hopes of making her reconsider. She shrieked, a strong pair of arms grabbed him from behind, and he shrieked too as he was dragged outside-about this being an emergency, her not understanding, and getting her charged with accessory to Ogata’s crimes.
The door closed in his face. Everyone was staring at him. Ashiwara-san let him go (who knew the freak was so strong, anyway?) and looked at him inquisitively, with a healthy dose of apprehension mixed in. “Shindou-san, what on earth-”
Hikaru changed his tactics and clung to him like a lifeline, as though he hadn’t just played security guard and dragged him out of his own workplace. “Save me, Ashiwara, YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE!”
***
Fortunately for everyone involved, before it could escalate into an Incident which required police involvement, Hikaru managed to get Ogata’s address-after swearing he was not carrying any deadly weapons and that he was going to be quite civil, really. After he ripped Ogata’s throat out. He kind of managed to hold that last part back, because for some bizarre reason, Ashiwara actually seemed to like the creepy-stalker-man, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
He was rather proud of his restraint, actually.
He wished the taxi driver he had flagged down had been Kawai-san, though. Not so much because he wanted Kawai-san to watch him hyperventilate, but the man broke every traffic law in the book and got you places fast. This guy stopped at every yellow light, and then to make matters worse started rummaging around for something for Hikaru to sign because he was a “big fan of Ouza-sensei.” At about the moment he began asking questions about his last title game, and what had possessed him to play 15-3 at a time like that, Hikaru was done. He threw a few bills at the man as he rambled on-probably twice the fare, at least-and bolted out of the car, fortunately just half a block from the necessary building.
He raced up the stairs and flung open the door to Ogata’s apartment, a cry of, “Unhand him, you fiend!” dying in his throat.
…Well. This was awkward.
Ogata and Akira, both quite decently dressed (discounting Ogata’s jacket and Akira’s ugliest pink sweater, which were flung messily on the floor) looked up at him. Akira blinked at him blearily before turning his attention back to the goban in front of him. “There are two Hikarus,” he informed the haphazard arrangement of stones. Hikaru wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was in the process of filling in his own eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve lost this game.”
“Oh my God,” Hikaru said. “You’re drunk. Touya Akira is drunk. Oh my God.”
Ogata leered up at him-rather reminiscent of the expression he had worn last time Hikaru had seen him in this state-then turned to Akira. “You owe me your shirt. I think your wife has come to collect you, Akira-kun.”
“I AM NOT HIS WIFE!” Hikaru shouted. He tripped over an empty sake bottle while stalking into the room. There seemed to be quite a few of them littering the floor. Also, a lot of green-lit fish tanks. “You’re an evil man. Do you know what being this drunk does to him?”
Akira tried to stand, wobbled, and collapsed against Hikaru, grabbing at his belt and nearly pulling his pants down. “There are two of you,” he said very clearly. Akira never slurred, no mater how drunk he became. “I don’t know which one will catch me. I think I’ve lost my balance. I know I lost that game just now.”
He finally made his way to his feet by using strategic parts of Hikaru’s body as handholds. Ogata watched, seemingly very entertained. Hikaru turned scarlet and steadied Akira on his feet. Akira nuzzled happily into his neck. “We’re going home now,” Hikaru said, with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Next time, Akira-kun, we’ll set the stakes higher!” Ogata called cheerfully as Hikaru tried to maneuver Akira’s dead weight out the door.
“I won’t lose my sweater to you again!” Akira vowed, tripped over Hikaru’s feet, and nearly sent them both sprawling. Ogata was laughing as Hikaru slammed the door. An angry neighbor peeked out onto the landing, sighed and slammed her door. Clearly drunken underage boys stumbling out of Ogata’s apartment were not all that rare-something to not think about, preferably ever again. “That was my favorite sweater,” Akira complained.
“He can keep it,” Hikaru said, and dragged him into the elevator. “Why were you playing strip Go with Ogata!? Have you recently been abducted by aliens who removed your brain!?”
“I should have taken his jacket. I won that jacket. We should go back. I think-”
“I’m going to kill you in the morning. No, I’m going to withhold the aspirin. You’re going to wish you'd died. Watch your step,” Hikaru said tersely and hauled him out of the elevator. “Stop thinking. He can keep the jacket too. It won’t fit you.”
“My sweater won’t fit Ogata-san,” Akira said, realization dawning on him. “Maybe he’ll give it back.”
“Not if we’re lucky,” Hikaru said. They somehow made it out of the building without mishap. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself molested and it will be all your fault, you idiot.”
“But Ogata-san-”
“Just be quiet before I dump you on the pavement and leave you here for nearly giving me a heart attack.” The obsessive taxi driver hadn’t left, which was fortunate. Hikaru shoved Akira into the backseat then followed, giving their address brusquely to the staring man.
“Is that-”
“NO,” Hikaru told him firmly. “DRIVE.”
At the very first yellow light, Akira proceeded to attempt to molest him in plain view. Fortunately for all involved, he slumped over and fell asleep halfway through the process. In the ensuing silence, Hikaru said, “I played 15-3 because clearly I am utterly insane, as is everyone connected to me.”
“Oh,” said the taxi driver.
“Yes, oh,” Hikaru told him as his arm fell asleep under Akira’s weight.
***
Clearly, I am attempting to surpass the CRACKIEST CRACK EVER WRITTEN IN THIS FANDOM. And the next time I get a Hikago challenge, I'm sure it will be late again. But. For now, the challenge is back in business. Let's have another!
The rules are HERE.
Get requesting!
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Challenge: Incident, awkward, alcohol
Challenger: aoyagi
Title: To the Rescue
Genre: Craaaaaaaaaaaaack
Rating: PG-13?
Pairing: Akira/Hikaru
Wordcount: 1,384
Description: Hikaru isn't overreacting. Really. Includes creepy Ogata, strip Go, assault by silk scarf, and all manner of silliness.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru no Go. If Hotta and Obata saw what I was doing with their characters, they might have an apoplectic fit...
***
Ogata 10-dan was Bad News. Hikaru had known this instinctively even before the aforementioned man had pinned him to a hospital corridor wall and asked all sorts of uncomfortable questions-now, he really knew to keep out of said man’s way as much as the smallish world of professional Go would allow.
Unfortunately for Hikaru, his infuriatingly oblivious boyfriend didn’t seem to share this opinion. No matter how often Hikaru told him that Ogata was creepy and he looked at Akira in a way that was really creepy, things like this still happened.
Hikaru,
Ogata-san has invited me over for a game this evening.
I’ll be home late-don’t wait up.
-Akira
“Like hell,” Hikaru said, dropping the note he had found on the goban in the living room, and stormed out of the house to save stupid, stupid Akira from the evil and twisted perversions of one Ogata 10-dan.
***
He detoured to the Go Institute, and ended up yelling at the receptionist, because the entire way there, his overactive imagination had been gleefully supplying him with images of things that could be happening right now while he wasted his time. “Look, he may have some alternate dimension of creepy that he resides in, but he has to have some base of operations here on earth! In Tokyo! With a closet full of white suits!” And my STUPID boyfriend at his mercy!
The girl behind the desk looked mildly terrified, as though he was about to vault over its protective barrier and strangle her with her silk scarf. Which he was considering. “Shindou-san, I’ve told you already, I can’t just give out-”
“He’s the creepy stalker! Not me! I’m a titleholder!” Which didn’t necessarily exempt one from being a stalker, because Ogata was 10-dan, after all. And Meijin, until Akira ripped the title from him in a few months. But it sounded good.
The girl did not look impressed. “Shindou-Ouza,” she said, emphasizing his title, “I’m afraid I can’t give a pro’s address to anyone.”
“You gave mine to Isumi-san that one time!” Hikaru pleaded.
“Isumi-san wasn’t quite as…” she seemed unable to come up with a proper adjective. Hikaru proceeded to try climbing over the desk in hopes of making her reconsider. She shrieked, a strong pair of arms grabbed him from behind, and he shrieked too as he was dragged outside-about this being an emergency, her not understanding, and getting her charged with accessory to Ogata’s crimes.
The door closed in his face. Everyone was staring at him. Ashiwara-san let him go (who knew the freak was so strong, anyway?) and looked at him inquisitively, with a healthy dose of apprehension mixed in. “Shindou-san, what on earth-”
Hikaru changed his tactics and clung to him like a lifeline, as though he hadn’t just played security guard and dragged him out of his own workplace. “Save me, Ashiwara, YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE!”
***
Fortunately for everyone involved, before it could escalate into an Incident which required police involvement, Hikaru managed to get Ogata’s address-after swearing he was not carrying any deadly weapons and that he was going to be quite civil, really. After he ripped Ogata’s throat out. He kind of managed to hold that last part back, because for some bizarre reason, Ashiwara actually seemed to like the creepy-stalker-man, and probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
He was rather proud of his restraint, actually.
He wished the taxi driver he had flagged down had been Kawai-san, though. Not so much because he wanted Kawai-san to watch him hyperventilate, but the man broke every traffic law in the book and got you places fast. This guy stopped at every yellow light, and then to make matters worse started rummaging around for something for Hikaru to sign because he was a “big fan of Ouza-sensei.” At about the moment he began asking questions about his last title game, and what had possessed him to play 15-3 at a time like that, Hikaru was done. He threw a few bills at the man as he rambled on-probably twice the fare, at least-and bolted out of the car, fortunately just half a block from the necessary building.
He raced up the stairs and flung open the door to Ogata’s apartment, a cry of, “Unhand him, you fiend!” dying in his throat.
…Well. This was awkward.
Ogata and Akira, both quite decently dressed (discounting Ogata’s jacket and Akira’s ugliest pink sweater, which were flung messily on the floor) looked up at him. Akira blinked at him blearily before turning his attention back to the goban in front of him. “There are two Hikarus,” he informed the haphazard arrangement of stones. Hikaru wasn’t sure, but it looked like he was in the process of filling in his own eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve lost this game.”
“Oh my God,” Hikaru said. “You’re drunk. Touya Akira is drunk. Oh my God.”
Ogata leered up at him-rather reminiscent of the expression he had worn last time Hikaru had seen him in this state-then turned to Akira. “You owe me your shirt. I think your wife has come to collect you, Akira-kun.”
“I AM NOT HIS WIFE!” Hikaru shouted. He tripped over an empty sake bottle while stalking into the room. There seemed to be quite a few of them littering the floor. Also, a lot of green-lit fish tanks. “You’re an evil man. Do you know what being this drunk does to him?”
Akira tried to stand, wobbled, and collapsed against Hikaru, grabbing at his belt and nearly pulling his pants down. “There are two of you,” he said very clearly. Akira never slurred, no mater how drunk he became. “I don’t know which one will catch me. I think I’ve lost my balance. I know I lost that game just now.”
He finally made his way to his feet by using strategic parts of Hikaru’s body as handholds. Ogata watched, seemingly very entertained. Hikaru turned scarlet and steadied Akira on his feet. Akira nuzzled happily into his neck. “We’re going home now,” Hikaru said, with as much dignity as he could muster.
“Next time, Akira-kun, we’ll set the stakes higher!” Ogata called cheerfully as Hikaru tried to maneuver Akira’s dead weight out the door.
“I won’t lose my sweater to you again!” Akira vowed, tripped over Hikaru’s feet, and nearly sent them both sprawling. Ogata was laughing as Hikaru slammed the door. An angry neighbor peeked out onto the landing, sighed and slammed her door. Clearly drunken underage boys stumbling out of Ogata’s apartment were not all that rare-something to not think about, preferably ever again. “That was my favorite sweater,” Akira complained.
“He can keep it,” Hikaru said, and dragged him into the elevator. “Why were you playing strip Go with Ogata!? Have you recently been abducted by aliens who removed your brain!?”
“I should have taken his jacket. I won that jacket. We should go back. I think-”
“I’m going to kill you in the morning. No, I’m going to withhold the aspirin. You’re going to wish you'd died. Watch your step,” Hikaru said tersely and hauled him out of the elevator. “Stop thinking. He can keep the jacket too. It won’t fit you.”
“My sweater won’t fit Ogata-san,” Akira said, realization dawning on him. “Maybe he’ll give it back.”
“Not if we’re lucky,” Hikaru said. They somehow made it out of the building without mishap. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself molested and it will be all your fault, you idiot.”
“But Ogata-san-”
“Just be quiet before I dump you on the pavement and leave you here for nearly giving me a heart attack.” The obsessive taxi driver hadn’t left, which was fortunate. Hikaru shoved Akira into the backseat then followed, giving their address brusquely to the staring man.
“Is that-”
“NO,” Hikaru told him firmly. “DRIVE.”
At the very first yellow light, Akira proceeded to attempt to molest him in plain view. Fortunately for all involved, he slumped over and fell asleep halfway through the process. In the ensuing silence, Hikaru said, “I played 15-3 because clearly I am utterly insane, as is everyone connected to me.”
“Oh,” said the taxi driver.
“Yes, oh,” Hikaru told him as his arm fell asleep under Akira’s weight.
***
Clearly, I am attempting to surpass the CRACKIEST CRACK EVER WRITTEN IN THIS FANDOM. And the next time I get a Hikago challenge, I'm sure it will be late again. But. For now, the challenge is back in business. Let's have another!
The rules are HERE.
Get requesting!