Hikaru no Go fic: Preliminaries
When my brain started poking at me, wanting to make me write Hikaru no Go fanfic, I tried to quell the impulse by setting myself certain conditions:
- I had to pick up right where the manga left off,
- I had to include at least some of the cast, not just two characters,
- I had to avoid all the fanfic clichés I could think of,
- And I had to turn the story into an at least moderately realistic take on teenage sexuality and emotional development.
I thought this would keep me safe. It did not. My brain, in an act of petty revenge, created the following monstrosity, which is one of the longest pieces of fiction (and the longest fanfic) I've ever written.
So, here we go:
Title: Preliminaries
Pairing: Touya/Shindou and Waya/Isumi
Rating: Whatever rating stories with lots of explicit descriptions of sex have, these days.
Other: Spoilers for the entire series. Also, ridiculously long. Honestly, I have no excuse for this, and would love feedback, as I can't tell if it's good or bad.
He had won.
He stared at the board, counting, then lifted his gaze to stare at his rival, seeing the confirmation in his eyes. Around them, there was a whisper of disbelief and shock as the result became clear to the bystanders; he bent over the board again, counting a second time, making doubly sure.
He had won. He had beaten Touya. He stared at him, not knowing what to say. His rival seemed calm, unaffected: he was clearing the stones off the board with steady hands. They had played all the way to yose, Hikaru's win was half a moku, and this was just the Wakajishisen. Nevertheless, he'd beaten Touya in an official game.
For want of something to say that could capture the momentousness of the occasion, he too began to clear the stones away, as around them, the whispering rose to an excited mutter and from there to loud chatter.
"Quiet, please, quiet. People are still playing. If you wish to discuss the game, go elsewhere." It was some official or other, shepherding the people in the vague direction of the exit. Hikaru got to his feet, glancing at Touya, at a loss for what to say or do.
"Let's discuss the game, but somewhere private, okay?" Touya got to his feet, sounding... normal. Calm. Hikaru nodded, and they left the room, ignoring the large group of people heading towards one of the side rooms, excited voices rising higher the further they got away from the room where the Wakajishisen was still unfolding.
They got their shoes, and were in the lift before anyone turned back to see if they were coming. The doors closed just as someone called their names, sounding scandalised that the two best players of the tournament were sneaking away without so much as a goodbye. Hikaru grinned at his rival, triumphant that they had escaped, and then closed his mouth abruptly, realising it probably looked like he was gloating over his victory.
But Touya didn't seem offended. If anything, he seemed pleased.
"Let's go home to me," he said, stepping out of the lift and heading towards the exit. "My parents are in China, so I have the place to myself. We can buy something to eat on the way."
They left the building and headed towards the train station, but stopped by an expensive-looking sushi place. Hikaru demurred, but Touya waved him off, placing what sounded like a large and complicated order. The sushi was prepared before their eyes, the cook's hands whipping through the air, with the skill and surety of long experience.
"It seems right that the loser should treat the victor," Touya said, taking the offered bag and paying an extortionate amount before Hikaru could protest.
"I've never treated you," Hikaru grumbled, but let himself be led to the train station, and from there onto the train, without much resistance. The sushi had looked really good; he was glad the trip back to Touya's wasn't that long.
"I think I should tell you about Sai," he heard himself say, as the train doors closed. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. Touya stared at him, his gaze boring into Hikaru's skull, his concentration absolute.
"Please do," he said, quietly, as though Hikaru were a nervous horse that might bolt if he spoke too loudly. Hikaru kept his hand where it was, his eyes wide. What had possessed him to say that, of all things? But deep down, he knew: he had won, today, had won over Touya. It was time to tell him, now that he no longer had something to prove.
"I'll tell you," he decided. "After dinner. Let's not talk of it until then."
Touya nodded, and the rest of the train journey, as well as the short walk to the house, was spent in absolute silence. The tension eased a bit once they were there: there were shoes to take off, water to boil, tea to make, and sushi to unwrap. They talked over the game while they ate, both of them conscious of wanting to get that part out of the way before they got down to the real business of the evening. Hikaru tried to push away his nervousness, and concentrated on replaying the game in his mind.
"Neither of us made a mistake," he concluded, thinking it over. "I just got a small early lead, and managed to keep it. You didn't let me get a bigger lead, and I didn't let you take it back."
Touya nodded, and added something about a particular move in mid-game. They both agreed it had been a good one, but their voices were absent-minded, and Hikaru's stomach twisted. He put down his chopsticks and drew a deep breath.
"He was a ghost," he said. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. But he had been waiting to tell this story a long time, and he did so fluently, clearly, starting at the beginning and explaining everything chronologically: their two early games, Hikaru's own growing interest in the game, the way he'd taken over half-way through the school tournament, Sai's internet presence, everything. He made sure not to look directly at Touya as he spoke.
He included Shuusaku - he heard a soft gasp as he explained that - he included his own selfishness, he included the way he'd forced Sai to play Touya Meijin with a handicap. He talked rapidly and surely, right up until the moment when Sai had vanished. Then, as he started to explain how desperately he'd searched for him, and how he'd decided not to play, his voice shook, and he was unsurprised when his tears choked him too much to speak. He cried, his hands curling into fists and pressing against his thighs.
There was the sound of movement, and two arms were around his shoulders. He didn't allow himself time to think, because if he had, he wouldn't have thrown himself into Touya's embrace, wouldn't have buried his face in his shoulder, wouldn't have cried without any reservations at all. He clung to Touya's shoulders and cried as he hadn't done since that time in the kifu room. It seemed to go on for a long time, yet Touya held him patiently, stroking his back as Hikaru soaked his shirt.
"What made you start playing again?" Touya's voice was low and sympathetic, and Hikaru sniffed.
"Isumi came on a visit," he said, hoarsely. "I kinda owed him a game." He told the rest of the story with his face still pressed against his rival's shoulder, though he made sure to tilt his head a little, so his words wouldn't be too muffled.
"Was that when you appeared before me?" Touya asked, sounding pleased.
"Yeah, when the game was over, I ran to see you," Hikaru explained, unconcerned. "I didn't want you to have to wait any longer." Reluctantly, and leaving his arms around Touya's shoulders, he lifted his head, looking at him, aware that he was probably still tear-stained and red-faced with crying. "That's how it is," he added. "I'm not Sai. Sai isn't around any more, only he is in my game. Is that enough?"
This was the moment he'd been afraid of, this was what he had been dreading. What if it really wasn't enough? What if Shindou Hikaru, without Sai, wasn't good enough to be be Touya Akira's rival? His fears probably showed: at any rate, Touya was suddenly resting a palm against his cheek, in a move that was clearly intended to reassure. His hand was warm, and the touch gentle; Hikaru liked it, he decided. A lot.
"I'm sorry Sai is gone," Touya said, "How could I not be? It would be quite something, to be able to play against Shuusaku. But he could never be my rival. You are." He seemed to think that explained everything. Hikaru's confusion was met with an impatient sigh.
"He was much stronger than either of us, maybe stronger than my father. How can someone like that be a rival? A goal, maybe, but not a rival. A rival is someone who's your equal, someone you can fight against on equal terms and grow stronger as you fight. And that's you." He hesitated, but after looking carefully at Hikaru's face, he continued. "I love you for it."
Hikaru blushed, and smiled, and tried to think of anywhere he could look that wouldn't involve eye contact with Touya. His best option seemed to be to hug him, since that also conveyed his feelings on the matter, so that's what he proceeded to do, pressing a damp cheek to Touya's dry, warm one.
They stayed close and quiet for another few minutes, their arms around each other, until Touya discovered it was already nearly bedtime. Hikaru got to his feet, called home and said he would stay out, which was met with more consternation than it strictly deserved. Exasperated with overprotective parents, he hung up and walked to the bedroom, to find Touya putting out two futon, next to each other, no space between them. Hikaru didn't comment.
"I haven't got a toothbrush," he said instead, rubbing a foot along the back of his calf. "Do you have a spare?"
"I don't think so," Touya said. "I can look around, if you like."
"It doesn't matter," Hikaru replied, stepping into the room. "I'll just go to bed, then." Touya nodded, and passed him, heading to the bathroom. Hikaru undressed quickly, putting his clothes down by the bed, and slipped under the covers, still wearing his t-shirt and underpants.
When Touya came back, he was wearing a dark blue pyjamas that brought out the colour of his eyes, and which somehow made him look more fragile than he normally did. It probably had to do with the way the top exposed his throat and delicate collarbones, and the way the colour offset the pale smoothness of his skin. It made Hikaru want to hug him again, for being Touya and for not even questioning the truth of his story about Sai.
"Is seven a good time?" Touya asked, setting the alarm clock and turning out the lights.
"It's fine," Hikaru said, into the sudden darkness, hearing rather than seeing Touya get into bed. "And you know? I love you, too." The sounds of motion stopped for a moment, then resumed, as Touya laid down.
"I'm glad," came his voice, and it was clear he was. There was a warmth there that Hikaru had heard only rarely.
"Goodnight," he said, content, closing his eyes and letting the awareness flow over him that yes, he'd beaten Touya in a game, and yes, he'd told him about Sai, and everything was somehow all right. He fell asleep almost at once.
*
The next morning, he woke up before the alarm went. He returned to wakefulness gradually, pleasantly aware of warmth, and of familiar arousal, and of light pouring in from an unexpected angle. He opened his eyes slowly, wallowing in the little pool of heat and sleepiness, and turned his head to find Touya's resting against his shoulder. So that was why he felt so hot; he had Touya pressed against him. Tangled up with him, in fact, they had limbs wrapped around each other with koan-like incomprehensibility. He yawned, listening to the birdsong and the distant sounds of traffic, feeling heavy and slow with sleep.
Touya had an erection, too, it was pressing against his thigh. It should probably bother him, but he was too drowsy, and too pleased with himself and with the world at large, to let it. He wondered, absently, if Touya ever wanked. He had to, right? Even if it was a bit hard to imagine. He toyed with the idea, trying to picture what he looked like when he was about to come, and what sounds, if any, he made. The resulting images made him blush with guilty pleasure, and he tilted his head, looking around to make sure that Touya was still asleep.
He was: his eyelashes were resting on his cheeks, his lips were parted, and his breathing was slow and regular. Most of his hair seemed to be covering his face. Hikaru reached out with his one free limb and brushed the hair out of his face, lightly. The hair was slippery and smooth to the touch. Against his better judgement, he played with it, tucking some of it behind Touya's ear, stroking it and running it through his fingers.
Touya grunted and shifted, and Hikaru stopped. He put his arm down and turned his head, looking at the clock: seven minutes until it went off. He sighed, already regretting the loss of the moment.
But there was nothing to be done. Extricating himself from Touya, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and shivering in the suddenly-cold air. Beside him, Touya muttered and sighed and curled into a ball.
"Wake up," Hikaru said. "It's morning." There was an answering mutter, something that sounded like Go away, though he couldn't swear to it. Rolling his eyes and hugging himself, he got to his feet and picked up his clothes, heading to the bathroom. "I'm leaving the alarm clock on," he said. "I'll be in the shower."
The rest of the morning was spent with low-grade bickering, too-strong coffee, and a surprisingly decent breakfast. He wondered where Touya had learned to cook, but didn't ask. Still grumbling and snapping at each other, they made their way to the train station, and from there to the institute. There were Ooteai matches today; Hikaru wasn't too worried, his opponent was a 2-dan. Touya had a better opponent; a 7-dan who might pose an actual challenge. For this, and for no other reason, Hikaru pressed a hand to the small of Touya's back just before the lift doors opened and let them out.
"Good luck today," he said, meaning it. Touya smiled at him, a surprisingly friendly smile given that they had spent most of the day squabbling.
"You too," he said.
*
"You'll be home for dinner tonight? Hikaru? Hikaru!"
"Nah, I'm staying at Touya's."
"You've barely been home at all lately! What's going on? Your mother is worried about you!"
"His parents are in China, he gets lonely. And he takes good care of me, okay? I'll come home every few days for a change of clothes."
"Hikaru! That's... why don't you invite him to stay here?"
"Nah, he has to mind the house, it can't be left empty. Later!"
"Hikaru? Hikaru!"
*
They settled in to a routine easily enough. Every few days, Hikaru would go home for a night, to soothe his troubled mother. Other than that, he stayed with Touya, and the days took on a familiar, comfortable pattern: grumbly mornings, hurried dashes to the train, busy days full of tournament prelims, study sessions, interviews, lessons, and matches, matches, matches. At some point, one of them would be done for the day; this was fine if Touya was the one to be done first, but more problematic if it was Hikaru. The problem was solved the day Touya gave him his own key, and after that, they simply convened in the house as soon as their day was over.
Then, dinner happened somehow. Hikaru never did any of the cooking, but tried to make himself useful by laying the table and getting the ingredients Touya wanted out of the fridge. Most of the time, the food was edible, if simple. Sometimes, it was more elaborate and almost invariably also either dried-out or scorched. Those days, they dug out some of the food Touya's mother had cooked and frozen in handy packages before she left.
After dinner, they cleared away the table, and settled down for more Go. Sometimes they played, other times they discussed particularly interesting moments in recent matches, or solved tsumego problems. Sometimes, they simply studied old kifu. Then, at some point before midnight, they'd get out the futon and go to bed.
Hikaru bought a new toothbrush for himself, and he brought over a pyjamas from home. It took no time at all until he could barely remember a time when this had not been how his life was, had not been the normal way his days unfolded.
Another thing that had changed, but which seemed so natural that he barely noticed, was that they were touching. They had never done that before, yet now they touched even in public: a friendly hand on an elbow, in encouragement before a difficult match, a rough one-armed almost-hug to tease, even a brief brush of fingers against fingers as they said goodbye for the morning. And in private, they were touching almost constantly, the only exceptions being when there was a Go board or kitchen utensils claiming their attention.
Hikaru said nothing about it, and nor did his rival. The routine was established quietly, without comment or fanfare. He particularly liked their kifu-reading-moments: he'd flop down on the futon, but support his back with several pillows, until he was semi-reclining. Touya would lie back against him, resting on Hikaru's chest, holding up the kifu so they could both study it. Hikaru's arms always ended up looped loosely around Touya's waist during these moments: it felt nicely intimate and friendly.
Yet the nights were the best. Initially, they went to sleep separately, each claiming some futon-territory as his own. During the night, however, they invariably seemed to draw closer in their sleep, and always woke up in a deep embrace, their arms around each other. Recognising the pointlessness of maintaining separation that neither wanted, they developed a habit of falling asleep like that, too. The warmth was soothing and reassuring, and Hikaru slept much better on the floor of Touya's house than in his own bed.
Neither of them ever commented on the other's morning erection, and Hikaru didn't speculate on how Touya got rid of his. The first time he masturbated in the shower he was nervous, and a little guilty, but nothing happened. Soon, that too became routine.
*
"My parents are coming back from China tomorrow."
"Oh."
"They'll only stay here for two weeks, probably."
"Can I come back when they go?"
"Sure."
*
Touya Meijin's momentary return to Japan led to a flurry of activity at his house, none of which Hikaru took part in. Nor did Touya, for the most part, but Hikaru still saw much less of him: when they met at all, it was in the Go salon, and for some reason, that was no longer quite as satisfactory as it had once been.
It took him a while to work out why: after their first match, the mere chance to interact with Touya at all had been a cherished, wonderful thing. The constant attention from the elderly customers, the way people were always cutting into their discussions or hovering over their Go boards observing the game, none of it bothered him. Because Touya had been there, and that was all that mattered.
And then he'd become spoiled. He'd spent countless hours in Touya's company: just the two of them, together. He tried not to feel resentful, but he couldn't help it: how could those geezers just listen in on private conversations? How could they just shamelessly stand around and discuss his and Touya's games? Couldn't they see they were not wanted? He couldn't touch Touya any more, either, not like this, not with people constantly staring at them.
The days seemed to crawl; he was getting restless and irritable. Touya seemed unaffected, he was as calm as ever. He didn't even respond to Hikaru's opening volleys when the irritation got too much and Hikaru tried to start a fight. It was quite a long time since they had squabbled over pointless things.
Ten days after the Meijin had come back, Hikaru found out that Touya was not as unaffected as he seemed. It happened at the Go salon: they had been playing for some hours, there had been a lot of green tea, and Hikaru felt a certain degree of pressure on his bladder.
"I need the toilet," he said, getting to his feet. Touya nodded, and then an expression Hikaru couldn't quite interpret flashed over his face.
"I'll come with you," he said, getting up.
"I thought only girls did that," Hikaru said, heading towards the toilets; Touya didn't say anything until they were at their destination. Hikaru walked towards the nearest stall; the place seemed empty.
"Shindou, wait." A hand was at his shoulder, and he turned, surprised.
"What is it?"
"I..." Touya seemed at a loss, his expression confused. Abruptly, without warning, he stepped closer, throwing both arms around Hikaru's shoulders, in an awkward hug. "I miss you."
"Oh." He didn't quite know what to say, so he said nothing, returning the hug with at least as much clumsiness as Touya had displayed. He had missed touching him, and despite the rather uncomfortable grip that they had on each other, the hug was welcome. Touya adjusted his grasp, slipping closer into their embrace.
The full-body contact put pressure in unexpected places and reminded Hikaru why he was in the room in the first place. He shifted, uneasily.
"I really need to piss," he said, apologetically, and Touya stepped away, blushing.
"Sorry."
"No, it's... I just need to." He hesitated, caught between asking Touya to stay, so they could hug more afterwards, and asking him to leave, so he wouldn't be able to hear. In the end he did neither, stepping inside the stall and flushing the water before he relieved himself.
Touya was still there when he got out again, and Hikaru washed his hands silently before looking at him.
"Is it all right?" Touya's voice was low and uncharacteristically uncertain. Hikaru nodded. "Let's go into a stall, then. In case somebody comes in."
It was difficult to close the door, since the stall was narrow and the door opened inwards. They managed it somehow, after much twisting, and with the door safely locked, they looked at each other, hesitant. It was Hikaru who took the initiative this time: he stepped closer, sliding both arms around Touya's back. His rival responded immediately, leaning against him and resting his head on Hikaru's shoulder.
Neither of them said anything. The moment was too fragile, and the potential for pitfalls too great. Closing his eyes, Hikaru concentrated on breathing slowly, on not panicking.
They had touched before, sure. In fact, they had barely been able to keep their hands off each other. But to seek it out like this, to openly acknowledge that touching was wanted... this was new. To a large extent, they had ignored what they were doing, had allowed it to pass without comment, but they might no longer be able to do so.
A hand was stroking Hikaru's back. He wasn't sure if it was in response to the tight tension in his muscles or not, but it did help him relax. He breathed, shakily, hugging Touya tighter, inhaling the scent of freshly-washed cotton and clean hair. Touya's body was warm and oddly familiar against his own. He had yearned to touch Touya, he realised. And Touya had yearned to touch him.
There was the sound of a door opening, and they looked up as the door to another stall closed. Then there was a steady trickling sound, and a deep elderly sigh of relief, followed by a few rumbly coughs. Their eyes met, and Hikaru saw his amusement reflected in Touya's eyes. They opened the door and left the room as quietly as they could.
*
"Hello?"
"Shindou. My parents are leaving for China tomorrow morning."
"Oh. Okay. I'll bring an overnight bag with me to the institute tomorrow, then."
"I look forward to it."
*
The next afternoon, Hikaru played the final match in the Wakajishisen. His match was against Isumi, and they had a huge crowd of spectators as they played, yet his opponent showed no signs of nervousness or doubt. Isumi had changed.
It turned out to be a hard match, almost as hard as a match against Touya. But Isumi lacked Touya's intensity, lacked his passion and near-fury as he played. Isumi wasn't a scary opponent, he played as though in a trance, or as though he were meditating. He was, Hikaru reflected, an opponent it would be easy to underestimate if you didn't know he had beaten Kuwabara.
He didn't make that mistake. Focusing hard on the game, he tried to contain his impatience, tried to suppress the desire to be done for the day. Yet Isumi seemed to want to test his patience, playing so slowly that he ran out of time, playing yose with only ten seconds per move. Hikaru, having more time to deliberate, managed to snatch a few moku in the end game, finally winning by three and a half moku.
The realisation that he'd won the tournament didn't sink in straight away, and when it did, it felt strangely anti-climactic. He'd already won against Touya, so what was the point of winning the Wakajishisen, when all was said and done?
He accepted the congratulations gracefully, with the sinking realisation that this meant it would be even longer before he could leave: there would be post-game discussions, and if the glint in Amano's eyes was anything to go by, there would also be an interview.
There was all that and more: when he came out from the publishing section, there was Isumi, Waya and a number of other people, including Ochi and Honda. Protesting, Hikaru was dragged off to NcDonald's for a celebratory hamburger. Nobody seemed to get that he wanted to leave, wanted to go home. The mood was up-beat and cheerful, even Isumi seemed in a better mood than Hikaru.
"I'll beat you next time," he said, smiling at Hikaru, who nodded absently before pulling himself together and giving the expected reply.
They all walked to the train station together, and by they time they got there, Hikaru was nearly dancing with impatience. He'd never noticed how slowly his friends walked before, it was as though the geriatric nature of the game they all played had affected the pace at which they did things. As he bought his ticket, Waya hovered over him, frowning as he fed the machine.
"Where are you going?" he asked. "That's not your usual amount." Surprised by this proof of an actual observant side to Waya, Hikaru shrugged.
"I'm staying with Touya."
"You're what?"
"Staying with Touya. His parents are in China."
"I know that! Weekly Go doesn't talk about anything else. But why are you staying with him? The arrogant bastard."
"He's not an arrogant bastard. Just because he's better at Go than you are..."
The conversation moved to familiar ground, with mutual half-hearted exchanges of insults and jokes, and the issue of why Hikaru was staying with Touya was conveniently forgotten by everyone.
The train journey took too long, snaking its way to the suburbs, stopping for far too long at each station. When he finally got to his stop, Hikaru jumped off the train and ran ahead of the crowd, taking the stairs two at a time. The way to Touya's house, familiar by now, normally took him ten minutes, but he knew from late-for-the-train experience that he could cover the distance in five if he ran.
So he did, flying through the quiet streets, his overnight bag bouncing on his shoulder. As he rounded the final corner, he slowed down, walking the last few steps slowly, to catch his breath.
He opened the door and called out I'm home before remembering that strictly speaking, this wasn't home. But it didn't seem to register with Touya, who emerged from the kitchen, looking pleased to see him.
"Welcome," he said, as Hikaru took off his shoes and dumped the overnight bag on the floor. Slipping into the house slippers, he stepped up to Touya, hugging him.
His rival's response was immediate and encouraging; he hugged him back, hard. Neither of them seemed to want to break away, so they didn't until a loud clatter, followed by a hissing sound, indicated that the kitchen needed attention. Touya started, cursed, and entered the kitchen at a run. Hikaru followed at a more sedate pace, pausing to put his bag in Touya's bedroom.
"I've already eaten," he said, walking into the kitchen. "That's why I'm so late, the others insisted."
"Just as well," Touya muttered, peering into the pot with a disgruntled expression, before evidently giving it up as a bad job. "I'll just have some rice crackers, or something."
After Touya's makeshift dinner, they replayed the game Hikaru had just played against Isumi. Hikaru had the odd feeling he was paying closer attention this time round than he had when the game actually happened; but then, Touya's interest and critical commentary made it a much more worthwhile game. They ripped it apart together, created alternatives, bickered about whether or not a certain move of Isumi's had been a mistake, and then it was eleven o'clock and Touya was suggesting that they go to bed.
Getting the futon out was a matter of minutes, and Hikaru hurried through his evening grooming rituals at a speed that would have scandalised his mother. Badly-brushed teeth or not, he was in bed by the time Touya came into the room, wearing his by now familiar pyjamas, the one that exposed his collarbones.
"When do you have to be up tomorrow?" Touya asked, oblivious to Hikaru's stare.
"I don't have to be at the institute before noon, so any time is fine."
"I have the day off tomorrow, so I won't set it at all, then. It's nicer just to wake up naturally."
Hikaru nodded, his gaze still on Touya's throat. Then, realising that sooner or later his rival would notice, he looked away, lying down and trying to relax as the lights went out. There was the sound of Touya's footsteps, and then he was lying down next to Hikaru. After a moment, a fumbling hand brushed against Hikaru's elbow, before grasping his arm.
"Where are you?"
Hikaru drew a deep and silent breath, and turned to him, reaching for him. They embraced, and he sighed in obvious relief as they assumed the familiar, comfortable almost-cuddle position that they had fallen asleep in every night before Touya Meijin had returned and disrupted their routine.
"Afraid that we wouldn't, any more?" Touya's voice was friendly.
"A bit." It was easier to be honest in darkness.
"Idiot."
"...Yeah, maybe." He relaxed, allowing the warmth and intimacy to wash over him, and closed his eyes, preparing for sleep.
"Goodnight."
"G'night."
*
Hikaru awoke to find Touya rutting against him. Horrified, he opened his mouth to yell, only to close it abruptly when he realised Touya was still asleep. His heart raced as he took in the sight of him, his face flushed and his brow furrowed with concentration as he moved against Hikaru with abrupt, clumsy thrusts. Complicated feelings collided in the pit of Hikaru's stomach, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.
Perhaps he didn't wank, then. Perhaps he just had wet dreams. Or maybe this was brought on by Hikaru's presence in his bed again, by the warmth of another human body. Touya's face was unguarded, beautiful, with an honest expression of frustration and confusion and lust: the feelings in Hikaru's stomach unravelled, and for some reason he wanted to cry and hug Touya, very hard.
His rival's movements gradually slowed down, and he made a small noise, one that somehow managed to convey his unsatisfied need. Hikaru, acting on he knew not what impulse, moved his leg, pressing his thigh gently against Touya's erection, moving very slowly against it.
It was the encouragement Touya needed. He started thrusting harder again, his arousal evidently building: he was making soft, urgent noises, his desperation causing Hikaru's heart to race in sympathy. It would be a cruel thing to stop rubbing against him now, so he didn't, maintaining a steady, careful motion until Touya cried out and came against him.
Hikaru gasped silently for air, his thoughts a tangled mess, and then Touya lifted his head, looking at him with eyes that were unfocused with sleep.
"I," he began, then stopped, looking down at himself, and then up at Hikaru again, his eyes widening. "Oh."
"It's, it's okay," Hikaru said, quickly. Why was it so hard to breathe?
"Sorry." Touya sat up, running a hand through his hair, his expression still only half-awake. "I... I think I need to go and have a shower."
"Yeah."
Touya got to his feet, his balance a little off, and staggered over to the cupboard, getting out a fresh set of clothes. There was a darker stain on the front of his dark blue pyjamas bottoms, and Hikaru thought he might die if he couldn't breathe again soon. He must have made a sound, for Touya turned his head, looking at him, his arms full of clothes. His gaze - always that direct gaze - travelled from Hikaru's undoubtedly flustered expression down to his crotch, and paused there.
"Oh," he said. Then, after a small pause, he looked away, a tiny smile on his face. He suddenly seemed wide awake.
"Listen," he added, speaking clearly and deliberately. "I'll go to the bathroom, and I'll have a shower, and then I will go directly to the kitchen, and cook breakfast. I won't come into the bedroom again. All right?" He left before Hikaru had time to think of a suitably cutting reply.
The door had barely closed behind him before Hikaru turned onto his side, curling his legs up towards his chest and reaching for his erection with both hands, masturbating with urgent, harsh movements. It was all right, it was all right, Touya had said he wouldn't be interrupted...
Touya. Touya, who had moved against him, had panted in his ear, and had made that unbelievable sound when he came... He whimpered, thrusting into his hands, sweat trickling down his neck. Touya's lips had been parted, and he had pressed against him, had thrust against Hikaru's thigh. The memory of it, the way Touya's erection had felt gliding up and down against his leg, was enough. He came, his body shaking, his lower lip hurting as he bit it, fighting the urge to moan.
When it was over, he lay still, panting for breath, the tension in his body gone. He wiped his fingers on the bedclothes, then froze as he realised what he'd done. But then, he'd pushed down his pyjama bottoms before he began, hadn't he...? He lifted the bed covers, looking, then sighed, exasperated with himself.
Oh well: he'd have to take the things to the washing machine and wash them, that was all. Sure, Touya would realise why he did it, but then, Touya already knew perfectly well what he'd done. Sighing, he sat up, taking off his pyjamas and wiping himself roughly with them, before dropping them on the bed.
Naked, he wandered over to the clothes cupboard he was now sharing with his rival, picking out a fresh set of clothes for the day. Outside the room there was the sound of footsteps, growing slower as they passed the bedroom door. Sorry, Touya, already done, Hikaru thought, smiling slightly to himself. There would be no tell-tale sounds.
Slipping on one of Touya's yukata, he slid the door open and walked to the bathroom, stepping into the warm steam. He washed himself quickly, the water ridding him of the small tension that had built up at the thought of having to deal with the messy bedclothes. He dried himself and dressed, carrying the yukata back to the bedroom.
The bed had been stripped. He stared at it in horror, then went into the kitchen in time to see his pyjamas and the bedclothes disappear into the washing machine.
"Oh," he said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. There was the hiss of cooking breakfast, and Touya looked up at him with what seemed like a genuine smile.
"Get the rice from the cooker, will you?" he said. "The eggs will be done in a minute."
Hikaru nodded and got out two bowls, filling them to the brim with steaming, fragrant rice. Despite the situation, he felt hungry, and when Touya brought lightly-braised cabbage and slightly-too-well-fried eggs to the table, he fell on it. Eating also meant he didn't have to say anything, which was a plus. He glanced up and met Touya's eyes: blushing, he dropped his gaze and shovelled a large lump of rice into his mouth.
"Don't be embarrassed," Touya said, eating his egg with a serene expression.
"How can I not be?" Hikaru said, "And more to the point, why aren't you?"
Touya watched him, thoughtfully, eating some of the cabbage without replying immediately. Then he looked away, smiling a little, poking at his rice with his chopsticks.
"I told you once that I know you better than anyone else," he said, "and I do. And you know me better than anyone else." He paused, taking a sip of his tea and meeting Hikaru's eyes again. "But you didn't know that part of me. Now you do. It feels nice."
"Oh." Unsure how to reply, Hikaru ate in silence, thinking it over. Touya, evidently aware that the silence was not due to embarrassment, left him to it, eating with slow, graceful movements. Touya always did everything gracefully, really. Other than coming in his sleep. Hikaru blushed, replaying the scene in his mind, glancing up at him and realising that yes, it was really Touya who'd done that, it was really Touya who'd actually come against him, had actually been aroused and desperate and loud in his arms. And who afterwards had cleared away the proof of Hikaru's own arousal and orgasm. He blushed, and a small, delighted glow filled his stomach. It did feel nice.
"All right," he said, grinning at him. "I won't be embarrassed if you're not."
Touya looked relieved, and by silent agreement they talked about upcoming league preliminaries while they finished the meal.
*
The next few days passed without anything remarkable happening: they both had busy schedules, and saw each other only early in the morning and late at night, when there was barely time for a quick game or some bickering over games long past. Hikaru went home to his parents twice, to keep them happy, and was knocked out of the Meijin preliminaries, but advanced into the Honinbo league. He had also embarked on tutoring as a way of generating some immediate income, but wasn't very good at it: it was surprisingly hard to describe and explain something that seemed easy and obvious in such a way that it was understandable. Most of his pupils didn't ask him back after the first few lessons.
Just because the routine felt normal, it didn't mean nothing had changed. Hikaru felt tense, an underlying, constant tension that only vanished for half an hour each morning, just after he had masturbated in the shower. The rest of the time, he felt uneasy, restless, and disturbingly inclined to stare at Touya when they were together, and at other people when they were not.
Catching himself one morning, when he and Touya were taking the train to the institute together, he looked away, focusing his gaze instead on a young woman in a low-cut dress. She was attractive, there was no doubt about it: firm rounded boobs, long well-defined legs, shiny lustrous hair. He felt a pleasant twitch between his legs, allowing himself a brief fantasy involving her breasts, his hands, and shiny white come in long black hair.
And yet...
His gaze moved back to Touya, who was looking out the window. The slight twist of his neck meant that one of the sinews stood out, throwing the hollow at the base of his throat into deep shadow. Hikaru nearly whimpered: he could touch Touya, sure, but not like that. He closed his eyes and wondered how Touya would react if his rival licked him. Not to mention how the train full of people would react. He shivered, clenching his hands, morbidly curious as to when the tension would snap, and how.
*
The tension snapped one Saturday morning. Hikaru woke up, and stared at the wall, taking a moment to process that Touya's erection was pressing against his own.
He was used to feeling his erection poking him in the thigh, or in his stomach, or else to discover that his own arousal was pressed hard against some part of Touya's anatomy. They had both maintained the polite fiction that they didn't notice, even after Touya's nice-that-you-know-that-part-of-me speech.
Yet here they were, in a deep full-frontal embrace, their erections rubbing against each other with every breath.
Touya was awake, he was sure of it. He was used to his breathing patterns by now, was used to noticing whether his position was wholly relaxed in sleep, or held by the consciousness of wakefulness. Thrusting his hips forward, his erection rubbed hard against Touya's; the motion drew a gasp from him.
"I'm bigger'n you," Hikaru said, in challenge.
"Are not." The voice was wide awake and keenly interested.
"Am too," he repeated, thrusting again, feeling Touya's arms tighten around his shoulders in response. "Quiver before my mighty sword, peasant!" There was laughter, and then Touya's hips bucked, causing his erection to slide along Hikaru's. Hikaru bit back a moan.
"Let's settle this with a duel." Touya spoke in his ear, breathless and eager and something that Hikaru couldn't define, but which made him shiver.
"You're on."
Their arms tight around each other, they moved their hips, their penises rubbing and clashing together in a rough approximation of fencing. Hikaru was biting his lower lip so hard he thought he might make it bleed, but it would be worth it, nothing could possibly be worth stopping for, not now.
Other than the realisation that he was about to come. He paused, out of breath, and lifted his head, searching out Touya's gaze. Touya was looking about as flustered and desperate as Hikaru felt.
"I," Hikaru said, "I think I'd better go into the bathroom..."
"No." Touya's hands were on his hips, holding him back. "No. Shindou. Stay."
Hikaru paused, his chest heaving, and he stared at Touya for a long moment. Realisation dawned that this situation was already so far out of his control that a little further didn't matter, and he leaned in, pressing his face to Touya's shoulder. They both breathed for a few seconds, silently, and then began moving again.
The motion was different, this time. There was no longer any pretence they were fighting; their hips were grinding in a slow, undulating movement, each thrust setting off sparks along Hikaru's spine. It was getting hard to think, and when Touya slipped a leg over Hikaru's, tilting his hips further forward and somehow contriving to eliminate any and all space between them, it was too much: Hikaru came, whimpering quietly, his face pressed against Touya's throat. Immediately afterwards, he felt a hard tremor pass through Touya's body, and then he, too, stopped moving.
Hikaru held still, staring at the wall opposite, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He'd just... They'd just... The language centre in his brain gave up trying to find words for it, and his focus went instead to physical sensations: the glowing relaxation in his body, the way his hair was sticking damply to his forehead and his pyjamas bottoms were sticking unpleasantly to his skin. And Touya's shape, warm against him.
He lifted his head and met Touya's eyes. It was like running headlong into a brick wall: nothing else existed, the eyes demanded his absolute and immediate attention. He held eye contact, noting that Touya did the same. But then, Touya never flinched away from anything, never backed down from a challenge. In fact, he sought out challenges, despite his fear. And he was honest and direct and passionate and he had really incredibly beautiful collarbones. Hikaru's heart swelled, and he tugged Touya closer, into a rough, abrupt embrace.
"Shindou?!"
"That was niiice," Hikaru crooned, giddy and delighted and full of love for his rival. "Really nice!"
"And here I was, thinking you'd be embarrassed again."
"Nooo. Not unless you are. Are you?" He lifted his head, seeking out eye contact again. Touya smiled at him.
"No."
"Good. I want to do it again. I mean, not right now!" He blushed, suddenly worried that he came across as a pervert. "But sometime. Can we?"
"Of course."
"Cool." Suddenly too full of energy to remain where he was, Hikaru bounced to his feet, picking out clothes for the day and grinning at Touya before heading to the bathroom. Touya was still in bed when Hikaru got back from his shower. His long hair was tousled and messy and sticking to his face, and he looked either dazed or sleepy, Hikaru wasn't quite sure which, but he suddenly regretted the "not right now" part of his speech. He blushed, wanting to touch him, and conscious that he probably couldn't.
"I'll try to cook breakfast while you're in the shower," he said, smiling uncertainly, the post-orgasmic elation beginning to evaporate.
"Lord save us," Touya said, with no particular malice, following Hikaru's example and heading to the bathroom.
Hikaru couldn't really blame him. When he entered the kitchen, there was a click: the rice cooker, which Touya set every night to start automatically the next morning, had just finished. Hikaru left it where it was, so it would retain the heat, and reflected that whatever else he did, there would be rice for breakfast. Looking through the cupboards, he found instant miso soup and grinned in triumph. Boiling some water in a kettle was easy enough, so he did, putting the powder and the seaweed into two small bowls. That left the vegetables: looking in the fridge, he found some carrots and other root vegetables he couldn't quite identify. They would do. He took them out, found a knife, and began cutting them into thin match-length sticks.
The water boiled, and he poured it into the bowls, stirring the mixture with a spoon. Setting the bowls on the table, he returned to the vegetables, wondering how anyone ever managed to keep things warm while they made the rest of the meal. Maybe housewives had real skill after all.
He wasn't sure how long it would take to cook the vegetables, but he prided himself on his cunning in pouring what was left of the boiled water into the pot, thus saving some time. Leaving the vegetables to themselves, he made tea, then got rice into the bowls as Touya stepped into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower. Hikaru's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of him; he wondered if Touya had the slightest idea how attractive he was.
"Nearly ready," he said. "As soon as the vegetables are cooked."
Touya padded over to the pot, glancing down into the briskly-boiling water. Taking a pair of chopsticks, he fished out a piece and ate it, chewing carefully.
"They're done," he said, lifting the pot and draining the contents. "A bit overdone, actually."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Not bad for a first try." Touya put the things in bowls and brought them to the table, sitting down and reaching for his tea. Hikaru sat down as well, beginning to eat, not quite sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said. The miso soup had had time to cool down, so he finished that quickly, then concentrated on the rice and vegetables.
"When can we do it again?" he heard himself say. Oh, crap. He continued, hurriedly. "I mean, you said it was all right to do it again, but not when." Blushing, he ate several pieces of soggy vegetables, careful not to look up. Had Touya meant in six months, maybe, or was he thinking more in terms of decades?
"You're going home to your parents today, aren't you?"
"Eh, yes?" What had that got to do with anything?
"Tomorrow, then. When you come back. If you want."
That soon? It was hard to breathe again, and he looked up, meeting Touya's eyes. It was a strange realisation, but he was suddenly sure: Touya wanted it as much as he did.
"Okay." His voice sounded high-pitched, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The rest of the morning was spent in a thick silence, and they both seemed relieved when they could go their separate ways, Hikaru to the institute and Touya to his Korean lessons.
*
That evening, for once in his life, he complimented his mother's cooking. This, in combination with the fact that he went to bed early, meant that she wondered if he was ill.
"I just have an important match tomorrow, that's all," he said, climbing the stairs. "I want to be properly rested for it."
In actual fact, he didn't fall asleep until after 2 a.m., his mind aflame with visions of Touya and what the two of them were going to do. He wanked four times, and it still wasn't enough to stop the expectant tension.
He woke up feeling tired, and wanked, showered, and dressed automatically, yawning as he ate breakfast. On an impulse, he kissed his mother's cheek before going off to the institute, leaving her overwhelmed and confused in addition to her default state of being worried for him.
The game was his final one in the Tengen preliminaries, and would determine whether or not he entered the league. His opponent was some 8-dan or other, a sharp-faced man in his forties, who looked resentful at the mere idea of having to play a first-dan.
Hikaru sat down to the game without any sense of nervousness or even expectations of how the game would go. He played slowly, potential futures flashing through his mind in patterns of black and white, flickering and changing as he placed the stones. Most of his mind was on Touya: what he sounded like when he came. The way he moved, the way he smelled. How his breath had felt against his neck as he panted.
He wondered, dimly, if anyone in the room noticed if he played most of the game with a massive hard-on, but knew that he'd never find out. Who'd confess to having noticed something like that, after all? The game proceeded normally, as far as Hikaru could tell, though despite the patterns whirling and rearranging themselves in his mind, his attention was elsewhere, and he played automatically.
Finally, it was all over, and he was free to leave. He ran to the train station, dancing with impatience as he queued to buy the ticket, then ran to catch the train. There was a free seat: he sat down, trying to remember if he had won or not.
*
"Hello?"
"Touya, where are you? It's nearly seven p.m."
"I have my Chinese lesson today, remember? It begins at seven thirty. I'm eating out beforehand, help yourself to some dinner from the freezer."
"...When will you be back?"
"At the earliest, nine."
"..."
"I'll see you then."
*
Part two.
Part three.
- I had to pick up right where the manga left off,
- I had to include at least some of the cast, not just two characters,
- I had to avoid all the fanfic clichés I could think of,
- And I had to turn the story into an at least moderately realistic take on teenage sexuality and emotional development.
I thought this would keep me safe. It did not. My brain, in an act of petty revenge, created the following monstrosity, which is one of the longest pieces of fiction (and the longest fanfic) I've ever written.
So, here we go:
Title: Preliminaries
Pairing: Touya/Shindou and Waya/Isumi
Rating: Whatever rating stories with lots of explicit descriptions of sex have, these days.
Other: Spoilers for the entire series. Also, ridiculously long. Honestly, I have no excuse for this, and would love feedback, as I can't tell if it's good or bad.
He had won.
He stared at the board, counting, then lifted his gaze to stare at his rival, seeing the confirmation in his eyes. Around them, there was a whisper of disbelief and shock as the result became clear to the bystanders; he bent over the board again, counting a second time, making doubly sure.
He had won. He had beaten Touya. He stared at him, not knowing what to say. His rival seemed calm, unaffected: he was clearing the stones off the board with steady hands. They had played all the way to yose, Hikaru's win was half a moku, and this was just the Wakajishisen. Nevertheless, he'd beaten Touya in an official game.
For want of something to say that could capture the momentousness of the occasion, he too began to clear the stones away, as around them, the whispering rose to an excited mutter and from there to loud chatter.
"Quiet, please, quiet. People are still playing. If you wish to discuss the game, go elsewhere." It was some official or other, shepherding the people in the vague direction of the exit. Hikaru got to his feet, glancing at Touya, at a loss for what to say or do.
"Let's discuss the game, but somewhere private, okay?" Touya got to his feet, sounding... normal. Calm. Hikaru nodded, and they left the room, ignoring the large group of people heading towards one of the side rooms, excited voices rising higher the further they got away from the room where the Wakajishisen was still unfolding.
They got their shoes, and were in the lift before anyone turned back to see if they were coming. The doors closed just as someone called their names, sounding scandalised that the two best players of the tournament were sneaking away without so much as a goodbye. Hikaru grinned at his rival, triumphant that they had escaped, and then closed his mouth abruptly, realising it probably looked like he was gloating over his victory.
But Touya didn't seem offended. If anything, he seemed pleased.
"Let's go home to me," he said, stepping out of the lift and heading towards the exit. "My parents are in China, so I have the place to myself. We can buy something to eat on the way."
They left the building and headed towards the train station, but stopped by an expensive-looking sushi place. Hikaru demurred, but Touya waved him off, placing what sounded like a large and complicated order. The sushi was prepared before their eyes, the cook's hands whipping through the air, with the skill and surety of long experience.
"It seems right that the loser should treat the victor," Touya said, taking the offered bag and paying an extortionate amount before Hikaru could protest.
"I've never treated you," Hikaru grumbled, but let himself be led to the train station, and from there onto the train, without much resistance. The sushi had looked really good; he was glad the trip back to Touya's wasn't that long.
"I think I should tell you about Sai," he heard himself say, as the train doors closed. Then he slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. Touya stared at him, his gaze boring into Hikaru's skull, his concentration absolute.
"Please do," he said, quietly, as though Hikaru were a nervous horse that might bolt if he spoke too loudly. Hikaru kept his hand where it was, his eyes wide. What had possessed him to say that, of all things? But deep down, he knew: he had won, today, had won over Touya. It was time to tell him, now that he no longer had something to prove.
"I'll tell you," he decided. "After dinner. Let's not talk of it until then."
Touya nodded, and the rest of the train journey, as well as the short walk to the house, was spent in absolute silence. The tension eased a bit once they were there: there were shoes to take off, water to boil, tea to make, and sushi to unwrap. They talked over the game while they ate, both of them conscious of wanting to get that part out of the way before they got down to the real business of the evening. Hikaru tried to push away his nervousness, and concentrated on replaying the game in his mind.
"Neither of us made a mistake," he concluded, thinking it over. "I just got a small early lead, and managed to keep it. You didn't let me get a bigger lead, and I didn't let you take it back."
Touya nodded, and added something about a particular move in mid-game. They both agreed it had been a good one, but their voices were absent-minded, and Hikaru's stomach twisted. He put down his chopsticks and drew a deep breath.
"He was a ghost," he said. He closed his eyes, feeling dizzy. But he had been waiting to tell this story a long time, and he did so fluently, clearly, starting at the beginning and explaining everything chronologically: their two early games, Hikaru's own growing interest in the game, the way he'd taken over half-way through the school tournament, Sai's internet presence, everything. He made sure not to look directly at Touya as he spoke.
He included Shuusaku - he heard a soft gasp as he explained that - he included his own selfishness, he included the way he'd forced Sai to play Touya Meijin with a handicap. He talked rapidly and surely, right up until the moment when Sai had vanished. Then, as he started to explain how desperately he'd searched for him, and how he'd decided not to play, his voice shook, and he was unsurprised when his tears choked him too much to speak. He cried, his hands curling into fists and pressing against his thighs.
There was the sound of movement, and two arms were around his shoulders. He didn't allow himself time to think, because if he had, he wouldn't have thrown himself into Touya's embrace, wouldn't have buried his face in his shoulder, wouldn't have cried without any reservations at all. He clung to Touya's shoulders and cried as he hadn't done since that time in the kifu room. It seemed to go on for a long time, yet Touya held him patiently, stroking his back as Hikaru soaked his shirt.
"What made you start playing again?" Touya's voice was low and sympathetic, and Hikaru sniffed.
"Isumi came on a visit," he said, hoarsely. "I kinda owed him a game." He told the rest of the story with his face still pressed against his rival's shoulder, though he made sure to tilt his head a little, so his words wouldn't be too muffled.
"Was that when you appeared before me?" Touya asked, sounding pleased.
"Yeah, when the game was over, I ran to see you," Hikaru explained, unconcerned. "I didn't want you to have to wait any longer." Reluctantly, and leaving his arms around Touya's shoulders, he lifted his head, looking at him, aware that he was probably still tear-stained and red-faced with crying. "That's how it is," he added. "I'm not Sai. Sai isn't around any more, only he is in my game. Is that enough?"
This was the moment he'd been afraid of, this was what he had been dreading. What if it really wasn't enough? What if Shindou Hikaru, without Sai, wasn't good enough to be be Touya Akira's rival? His fears probably showed: at any rate, Touya was suddenly resting a palm against his cheek, in a move that was clearly intended to reassure. His hand was warm, and the touch gentle; Hikaru liked it, he decided. A lot.
"I'm sorry Sai is gone," Touya said, "How could I not be? It would be quite something, to be able to play against Shuusaku. But he could never be my rival. You are." He seemed to think that explained everything. Hikaru's confusion was met with an impatient sigh.
"He was much stronger than either of us, maybe stronger than my father. How can someone like that be a rival? A goal, maybe, but not a rival. A rival is someone who's your equal, someone you can fight against on equal terms and grow stronger as you fight. And that's you." He hesitated, but after looking carefully at Hikaru's face, he continued. "I love you for it."
Hikaru blushed, and smiled, and tried to think of anywhere he could look that wouldn't involve eye contact with Touya. His best option seemed to be to hug him, since that also conveyed his feelings on the matter, so that's what he proceeded to do, pressing a damp cheek to Touya's dry, warm one.
They stayed close and quiet for another few minutes, their arms around each other, until Touya discovered it was already nearly bedtime. Hikaru got to his feet, called home and said he would stay out, which was met with more consternation than it strictly deserved. Exasperated with overprotective parents, he hung up and walked to the bedroom, to find Touya putting out two futon, next to each other, no space between them. Hikaru didn't comment.
"I haven't got a toothbrush," he said instead, rubbing a foot along the back of his calf. "Do you have a spare?"
"I don't think so," Touya said. "I can look around, if you like."
"It doesn't matter," Hikaru replied, stepping into the room. "I'll just go to bed, then." Touya nodded, and passed him, heading to the bathroom. Hikaru undressed quickly, putting his clothes down by the bed, and slipped under the covers, still wearing his t-shirt and underpants.
When Touya came back, he was wearing a dark blue pyjamas that brought out the colour of his eyes, and which somehow made him look more fragile than he normally did. It probably had to do with the way the top exposed his throat and delicate collarbones, and the way the colour offset the pale smoothness of his skin. It made Hikaru want to hug him again, for being Touya and for not even questioning the truth of his story about Sai.
"Is seven a good time?" Touya asked, setting the alarm clock and turning out the lights.
"It's fine," Hikaru said, into the sudden darkness, hearing rather than seeing Touya get into bed. "And you know? I love you, too." The sounds of motion stopped for a moment, then resumed, as Touya laid down.
"I'm glad," came his voice, and it was clear he was. There was a warmth there that Hikaru had heard only rarely.
"Goodnight," he said, content, closing his eyes and letting the awareness flow over him that yes, he'd beaten Touya in a game, and yes, he'd told him about Sai, and everything was somehow all right. He fell asleep almost at once.
*
The next morning, he woke up before the alarm went. He returned to wakefulness gradually, pleasantly aware of warmth, and of familiar arousal, and of light pouring in from an unexpected angle. He opened his eyes slowly, wallowing in the little pool of heat and sleepiness, and turned his head to find Touya's resting against his shoulder. So that was why he felt so hot; he had Touya pressed against him. Tangled up with him, in fact, they had limbs wrapped around each other with koan-like incomprehensibility. He yawned, listening to the birdsong and the distant sounds of traffic, feeling heavy and slow with sleep.
Touya had an erection, too, it was pressing against his thigh. It should probably bother him, but he was too drowsy, and too pleased with himself and with the world at large, to let it. He wondered, absently, if Touya ever wanked. He had to, right? Even if it was a bit hard to imagine. He toyed with the idea, trying to picture what he looked like when he was about to come, and what sounds, if any, he made. The resulting images made him blush with guilty pleasure, and he tilted his head, looking around to make sure that Touya was still asleep.
He was: his eyelashes were resting on his cheeks, his lips were parted, and his breathing was slow and regular. Most of his hair seemed to be covering his face. Hikaru reached out with his one free limb and brushed the hair out of his face, lightly. The hair was slippery and smooth to the touch. Against his better judgement, he played with it, tucking some of it behind Touya's ear, stroking it and running it through his fingers.
Touya grunted and shifted, and Hikaru stopped. He put his arm down and turned his head, looking at the clock: seven minutes until it went off. He sighed, already regretting the loss of the moment.
But there was nothing to be done. Extricating himself from Touya, he sat up, rubbing his eyes and shivering in the suddenly-cold air. Beside him, Touya muttered and sighed and curled into a ball.
"Wake up," Hikaru said. "It's morning." There was an answering mutter, something that sounded like Go away, though he couldn't swear to it. Rolling his eyes and hugging himself, he got to his feet and picked up his clothes, heading to the bathroom. "I'm leaving the alarm clock on," he said. "I'll be in the shower."
The rest of the morning was spent with low-grade bickering, too-strong coffee, and a surprisingly decent breakfast. He wondered where Touya had learned to cook, but didn't ask. Still grumbling and snapping at each other, they made their way to the train station, and from there to the institute. There were Ooteai matches today; Hikaru wasn't too worried, his opponent was a 2-dan. Touya had a better opponent; a 7-dan who might pose an actual challenge. For this, and for no other reason, Hikaru pressed a hand to the small of Touya's back just before the lift doors opened and let them out.
"Good luck today," he said, meaning it. Touya smiled at him, a surprisingly friendly smile given that they had spent most of the day squabbling.
"You too," he said.
*
"You'll be home for dinner tonight? Hikaru? Hikaru!"
"Nah, I'm staying at Touya's."
"You've barely been home at all lately! What's going on? Your mother is worried about you!"
"His parents are in China, he gets lonely. And he takes good care of me, okay? I'll come home every few days for a change of clothes."
"Hikaru! That's... why don't you invite him to stay here?"
"Nah, he has to mind the house, it can't be left empty. Later!"
"Hikaru? Hikaru!"
*
They settled in to a routine easily enough. Every few days, Hikaru would go home for a night, to soothe his troubled mother. Other than that, he stayed with Touya, and the days took on a familiar, comfortable pattern: grumbly mornings, hurried dashes to the train, busy days full of tournament prelims, study sessions, interviews, lessons, and matches, matches, matches. At some point, one of them would be done for the day; this was fine if Touya was the one to be done first, but more problematic if it was Hikaru. The problem was solved the day Touya gave him his own key, and after that, they simply convened in the house as soon as their day was over.
Then, dinner happened somehow. Hikaru never did any of the cooking, but tried to make himself useful by laying the table and getting the ingredients Touya wanted out of the fridge. Most of the time, the food was edible, if simple. Sometimes, it was more elaborate and almost invariably also either dried-out or scorched. Those days, they dug out some of the food Touya's mother had cooked and frozen in handy packages before she left.
After dinner, they cleared away the table, and settled down for more Go. Sometimes they played, other times they discussed particularly interesting moments in recent matches, or solved tsumego problems. Sometimes, they simply studied old kifu. Then, at some point before midnight, they'd get out the futon and go to bed.
Hikaru bought a new toothbrush for himself, and he brought over a pyjamas from home. It took no time at all until he could barely remember a time when this had not been how his life was, had not been the normal way his days unfolded.
Another thing that had changed, but which seemed so natural that he barely noticed, was that they were touching. They had never done that before, yet now they touched even in public: a friendly hand on an elbow, in encouragement before a difficult match, a rough one-armed almost-hug to tease, even a brief brush of fingers against fingers as they said goodbye for the morning. And in private, they were touching almost constantly, the only exceptions being when there was a Go board or kitchen utensils claiming their attention.
Hikaru said nothing about it, and nor did his rival. The routine was established quietly, without comment or fanfare. He particularly liked their kifu-reading-moments: he'd flop down on the futon, but support his back with several pillows, until he was semi-reclining. Touya would lie back against him, resting on Hikaru's chest, holding up the kifu so they could both study it. Hikaru's arms always ended up looped loosely around Touya's waist during these moments: it felt nicely intimate and friendly.
Yet the nights were the best. Initially, they went to sleep separately, each claiming some futon-territory as his own. During the night, however, they invariably seemed to draw closer in their sleep, and always woke up in a deep embrace, their arms around each other. Recognising the pointlessness of maintaining separation that neither wanted, they developed a habit of falling asleep like that, too. The warmth was soothing and reassuring, and Hikaru slept much better on the floor of Touya's house than in his own bed.
Neither of them ever commented on the other's morning erection, and Hikaru didn't speculate on how Touya got rid of his. The first time he masturbated in the shower he was nervous, and a little guilty, but nothing happened. Soon, that too became routine.
*
"My parents are coming back from China tomorrow."
"Oh."
"They'll only stay here for two weeks, probably."
"Can I come back when they go?"
"Sure."
*
Touya Meijin's momentary return to Japan led to a flurry of activity at his house, none of which Hikaru took part in. Nor did Touya, for the most part, but Hikaru still saw much less of him: when they met at all, it was in the Go salon, and for some reason, that was no longer quite as satisfactory as it had once been.
It took him a while to work out why: after their first match, the mere chance to interact with Touya at all had been a cherished, wonderful thing. The constant attention from the elderly customers, the way people were always cutting into their discussions or hovering over their Go boards observing the game, none of it bothered him. Because Touya had been there, and that was all that mattered.
And then he'd become spoiled. He'd spent countless hours in Touya's company: just the two of them, together. He tried not to feel resentful, but he couldn't help it: how could those geezers just listen in on private conversations? How could they just shamelessly stand around and discuss his and Touya's games? Couldn't they see they were not wanted? He couldn't touch Touya any more, either, not like this, not with people constantly staring at them.
The days seemed to crawl; he was getting restless and irritable. Touya seemed unaffected, he was as calm as ever. He didn't even respond to Hikaru's opening volleys when the irritation got too much and Hikaru tried to start a fight. It was quite a long time since they had squabbled over pointless things.
Ten days after the Meijin had come back, Hikaru found out that Touya was not as unaffected as he seemed. It happened at the Go salon: they had been playing for some hours, there had been a lot of green tea, and Hikaru felt a certain degree of pressure on his bladder.
"I need the toilet," he said, getting to his feet. Touya nodded, and then an expression Hikaru couldn't quite interpret flashed over his face.
"I'll come with you," he said, getting up.
"I thought only girls did that," Hikaru said, heading towards the toilets; Touya didn't say anything until they were at their destination. Hikaru walked towards the nearest stall; the place seemed empty.
"Shindou, wait." A hand was at his shoulder, and he turned, surprised.
"What is it?"
"I..." Touya seemed at a loss, his expression confused. Abruptly, without warning, he stepped closer, throwing both arms around Hikaru's shoulders, in an awkward hug. "I miss you."
"Oh." He didn't quite know what to say, so he said nothing, returning the hug with at least as much clumsiness as Touya had displayed. He had missed touching him, and despite the rather uncomfortable grip that they had on each other, the hug was welcome. Touya adjusted his grasp, slipping closer into their embrace.
The full-body contact put pressure in unexpected places and reminded Hikaru why he was in the room in the first place. He shifted, uneasily.
"I really need to piss," he said, apologetically, and Touya stepped away, blushing.
"Sorry."
"No, it's... I just need to." He hesitated, caught between asking Touya to stay, so they could hug more afterwards, and asking him to leave, so he wouldn't be able to hear. In the end he did neither, stepping inside the stall and flushing the water before he relieved himself.
Touya was still there when he got out again, and Hikaru washed his hands silently before looking at him.
"Is it all right?" Touya's voice was low and uncharacteristically uncertain. Hikaru nodded. "Let's go into a stall, then. In case somebody comes in."
It was difficult to close the door, since the stall was narrow and the door opened inwards. They managed it somehow, after much twisting, and with the door safely locked, they looked at each other, hesitant. It was Hikaru who took the initiative this time: he stepped closer, sliding both arms around Touya's back. His rival responded immediately, leaning against him and resting his head on Hikaru's shoulder.
Neither of them said anything. The moment was too fragile, and the potential for pitfalls too great. Closing his eyes, Hikaru concentrated on breathing slowly, on not panicking.
They had touched before, sure. In fact, they had barely been able to keep their hands off each other. But to seek it out like this, to openly acknowledge that touching was wanted... this was new. To a large extent, they had ignored what they were doing, had allowed it to pass without comment, but they might no longer be able to do so.
A hand was stroking Hikaru's back. He wasn't sure if it was in response to the tight tension in his muscles or not, but it did help him relax. He breathed, shakily, hugging Touya tighter, inhaling the scent of freshly-washed cotton and clean hair. Touya's body was warm and oddly familiar against his own. He had yearned to touch Touya, he realised. And Touya had yearned to touch him.
There was the sound of a door opening, and they looked up as the door to another stall closed. Then there was a steady trickling sound, and a deep elderly sigh of relief, followed by a few rumbly coughs. Their eyes met, and Hikaru saw his amusement reflected in Touya's eyes. They opened the door and left the room as quietly as they could.
*
"Hello?"
"Shindou. My parents are leaving for China tomorrow morning."
"Oh. Okay. I'll bring an overnight bag with me to the institute tomorrow, then."
"I look forward to it."
*
The next afternoon, Hikaru played the final match in the Wakajishisen. His match was against Isumi, and they had a huge crowd of spectators as they played, yet his opponent showed no signs of nervousness or doubt. Isumi had changed.
It turned out to be a hard match, almost as hard as a match against Touya. But Isumi lacked Touya's intensity, lacked his passion and near-fury as he played. Isumi wasn't a scary opponent, he played as though in a trance, or as though he were meditating. He was, Hikaru reflected, an opponent it would be easy to underestimate if you didn't know he had beaten Kuwabara.
He didn't make that mistake. Focusing hard on the game, he tried to contain his impatience, tried to suppress the desire to be done for the day. Yet Isumi seemed to want to test his patience, playing so slowly that he ran out of time, playing yose with only ten seconds per move. Hikaru, having more time to deliberate, managed to snatch a few moku in the end game, finally winning by three and a half moku.
The realisation that he'd won the tournament didn't sink in straight away, and when it did, it felt strangely anti-climactic. He'd already won against Touya, so what was the point of winning the Wakajishisen, when all was said and done?
He accepted the congratulations gracefully, with the sinking realisation that this meant it would be even longer before he could leave: there would be post-game discussions, and if the glint in Amano's eyes was anything to go by, there would also be an interview.
There was all that and more: when he came out from the publishing section, there was Isumi, Waya and a number of other people, including Ochi and Honda. Protesting, Hikaru was dragged off to NcDonald's for a celebratory hamburger. Nobody seemed to get that he wanted to leave, wanted to go home. The mood was up-beat and cheerful, even Isumi seemed in a better mood than Hikaru.
"I'll beat you next time," he said, smiling at Hikaru, who nodded absently before pulling himself together and giving the expected reply.
They all walked to the train station together, and by they time they got there, Hikaru was nearly dancing with impatience. He'd never noticed how slowly his friends walked before, it was as though the geriatric nature of the game they all played had affected the pace at which they did things. As he bought his ticket, Waya hovered over him, frowning as he fed the machine.
"Where are you going?" he asked. "That's not your usual amount." Surprised by this proof of an actual observant side to Waya, Hikaru shrugged.
"I'm staying with Touya."
"You're what?"
"Staying with Touya. His parents are in China."
"I know that! Weekly Go doesn't talk about anything else. But why are you staying with him? The arrogant bastard."
"He's not an arrogant bastard. Just because he's better at Go than you are..."
The conversation moved to familiar ground, with mutual half-hearted exchanges of insults and jokes, and the issue of why Hikaru was staying with Touya was conveniently forgotten by everyone.
The train journey took too long, snaking its way to the suburbs, stopping for far too long at each station. When he finally got to his stop, Hikaru jumped off the train and ran ahead of the crowd, taking the stairs two at a time. The way to Touya's house, familiar by now, normally took him ten minutes, but he knew from late-for-the-train experience that he could cover the distance in five if he ran.
So he did, flying through the quiet streets, his overnight bag bouncing on his shoulder. As he rounded the final corner, he slowed down, walking the last few steps slowly, to catch his breath.
He opened the door and called out I'm home before remembering that strictly speaking, this wasn't home. But it didn't seem to register with Touya, who emerged from the kitchen, looking pleased to see him.
"Welcome," he said, as Hikaru took off his shoes and dumped the overnight bag on the floor. Slipping into the house slippers, he stepped up to Touya, hugging him.
His rival's response was immediate and encouraging; he hugged him back, hard. Neither of them seemed to want to break away, so they didn't until a loud clatter, followed by a hissing sound, indicated that the kitchen needed attention. Touya started, cursed, and entered the kitchen at a run. Hikaru followed at a more sedate pace, pausing to put his bag in Touya's bedroom.
"I've already eaten," he said, walking into the kitchen. "That's why I'm so late, the others insisted."
"Just as well," Touya muttered, peering into the pot with a disgruntled expression, before evidently giving it up as a bad job. "I'll just have some rice crackers, or something."
After Touya's makeshift dinner, they replayed the game Hikaru had just played against Isumi. Hikaru had the odd feeling he was paying closer attention this time round than he had when the game actually happened; but then, Touya's interest and critical commentary made it a much more worthwhile game. They ripped it apart together, created alternatives, bickered about whether or not a certain move of Isumi's had been a mistake, and then it was eleven o'clock and Touya was suggesting that they go to bed.
Getting the futon out was a matter of minutes, and Hikaru hurried through his evening grooming rituals at a speed that would have scandalised his mother. Badly-brushed teeth or not, he was in bed by the time Touya came into the room, wearing his by now familiar pyjamas, the one that exposed his collarbones.
"When do you have to be up tomorrow?" Touya asked, oblivious to Hikaru's stare.
"I don't have to be at the institute before noon, so any time is fine."
"I have the day off tomorrow, so I won't set it at all, then. It's nicer just to wake up naturally."
Hikaru nodded, his gaze still on Touya's throat. Then, realising that sooner or later his rival would notice, he looked away, lying down and trying to relax as the lights went out. There was the sound of Touya's footsteps, and then he was lying down next to Hikaru. After a moment, a fumbling hand brushed against Hikaru's elbow, before grasping his arm.
"Where are you?"
Hikaru drew a deep and silent breath, and turned to him, reaching for him. They embraced, and he sighed in obvious relief as they assumed the familiar, comfortable almost-cuddle position that they had fallen asleep in every night before Touya Meijin had returned and disrupted their routine.
"Afraid that we wouldn't, any more?" Touya's voice was friendly.
"A bit." It was easier to be honest in darkness.
"Idiot."
"...Yeah, maybe." He relaxed, allowing the warmth and intimacy to wash over him, and closed his eyes, preparing for sleep.
"Goodnight."
"G'night."
*
Hikaru awoke to find Touya rutting against him. Horrified, he opened his mouth to yell, only to close it abruptly when he realised Touya was still asleep. His heart raced as he took in the sight of him, his face flushed and his brow furrowed with concentration as he moved against Hikaru with abrupt, clumsy thrusts. Complicated feelings collided in the pit of Hikaru's stomach, and it was suddenly very hard to breathe.
Perhaps he didn't wank, then. Perhaps he just had wet dreams. Or maybe this was brought on by Hikaru's presence in his bed again, by the warmth of another human body. Touya's face was unguarded, beautiful, with an honest expression of frustration and confusion and lust: the feelings in Hikaru's stomach unravelled, and for some reason he wanted to cry and hug Touya, very hard.
His rival's movements gradually slowed down, and he made a small noise, one that somehow managed to convey his unsatisfied need. Hikaru, acting on he knew not what impulse, moved his leg, pressing his thigh gently against Touya's erection, moving very slowly against it.
It was the encouragement Touya needed. He started thrusting harder again, his arousal evidently building: he was making soft, urgent noises, his desperation causing Hikaru's heart to race in sympathy. It would be a cruel thing to stop rubbing against him now, so he didn't, maintaining a steady, careful motion until Touya cried out and came against him.
Hikaru gasped silently for air, his thoughts a tangled mess, and then Touya lifted his head, looking at him with eyes that were unfocused with sleep.
"I," he began, then stopped, looking down at himself, and then up at Hikaru again, his eyes widening. "Oh."
"It's, it's okay," Hikaru said, quickly. Why was it so hard to breathe?
"Sorry." Touya sat up, running a hand through his hair, his expression still only half-awake. "I... I think I need to go and have a shower."
"Yeah."
Touya got to his feet, his balance a little off, and staggered over to the cupboard, getting out a fresh set of clothes. There was a darker stain on the front of his dark blue pyjamas bottoms, and Hikaru thought he might die if he couldn't breathe again soon. He must have made a sound, for Touya turned his head, looking at him, his arms full of clothes. His gaze - always that direct gaze - travelled from Hikaru's undoubtedly flustered expression down to his crotch, and paused there.
"Oh," he said. Then, after a small pause, he looked away, a tiny smile on his face. He suddenly seemed wide awake.
"Listen," he added, speaking clearly and deliberately. "I'll go to the bathroom, and I'll have a shower, and then I will go directly to the kitchen, and cook breakfast. I won't come into the bedroom again. All right?" He left before Hikaru had time to think of a suitably cutting reply.
The door had barely closed behind him before Hikaru turned onto his side, curling his legs up towards his chest and reaching for his erection with both hands, masturbating with urgent, harsh movements. It was all right, it was all right, Touya had said he wouldn't be interrupted...
Touya. Touya, who had moved against him, had panted in his ear, and had made that unbelievable sound when he came... He whimpered, thrusting into his hands, sweat trickling down his neck. Touya's lips had been parted, and he had pressed against him, had thrust against Hikaru's thigh. The memory of it, the way Touya's erection had felt gliding up and down against his leg, was enough. He came, his body shaking, his lower lip hurting as he bit it, fighting the urge to moan.
When it was over, he lay still, panting for breath, the tension in his body gone. He wiped his fingers on the bedclothes, then froze as he realised what he'd done. But then, he'd pushed down his pyjama bottoms before he began, hadn't he...? He lifted the bed covers, looking, then sighed, exasperated with himself.
Oh well: he'd have to take the things to the washing machine and wash them, that was all. Sure, Touya would realise why he did it, but then, Touya already knew perfectly well what he'd done. Sighing, he sat up, taking off his pyjamas and wiping himself roughly with them, before dropping them on the bed.
Naked, he wandered over to the clothes cupboard he was now sharing with his rival, picking out a fresh set of clothes for the day. Outside the room there was the sound of footsteps, growing slower as they passed the bedroom door. Sorry, Touya, already done, Hikaru thought, smiling slightly to himself. There would be no tell-tale sounds.
Slipping on one of Touya's yukata, he slid the door open and walked to the bathroom, stepping into the warm steam. He washed himself quickly, the water ridding him of the small tension that had built up at the thought of having to deal with the messy bedclothes. He dried himself and dressed, carrying the yukata back to the bedroom.
The bed had been stripped. He stared at it in horror, then went into the kitchen in time to see his pyjamas and the bedclothes disappear into the washing machine.
"Oh," he said, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. There was the hiss of cooking breakfast, and Touya looked up at him with what seemed like a genuine smile.
"Get the rice from the cooker, will you?" he said. "The eggs will be done in a minute."
Hikaru nodded and got out two bowls, filling them to the brim with steaming, fragrant rice. Despite the situation, he felt hungry, and when Touya brought lightly-braised cabbage and slightly-too-well-fried eggs to the table, he fell on it. Eating also meant he didn't have to say anything, which was a plus. He glanced up and met Touya's eyes: blushing, he dropped his gaze and shovelled a large lump of rice into his mouth.
"Don't be embarrassed," Touya said, eating his egg with a serene expression.
"How can I not be?" Hikaru said, "And more to the point, why aren't you?"
Touya watched him, thoughtfully, eating some of the cabbage without replying immediately. Then he looked away, smiling a little, poking at his rice with his chopsticks.
"I told you once that I know you better than anyone else," he said, "and I do. And you know me better than anyone else." He paused, taking a sip of his tea and meeting Hikaru's eyes again. "But you didn't know that part of me. Now you do. It feels nice."
"Oh." Unsure how to reply, Hikaru ate in silence, thinking it over. Touya, evidently aware that the silence was not due to embarrassment, left him to it, eating with slow, graceful movements. Touya always did everything gracefully, really. Other than coming in his sleep. Hikaru blushed, replaying the scene in his mind, glancing up at him and realising that yes, it was really Touya who'd done that, it was really Touya who'd actually come against him, had actually been aroused and desperate and loud in his arms. And who afterwards had cleared away the proof of Hikaru's own arousal and orgasm. He blushed, and a small, delighted glow filled his stomach. It did feel nice.
"All right," he said, grinning at him. "I won't be embarrassed if you're not."
Touya looked relieved, and by silent agreement they talked about upcoming league preliminaries while they finished the meal.
*
The next few days passed without anything remarkable happening: they both had busy schedules, and saw each other only early in the morning and late at night, when there was barely time for a quick game or some bickering over games long past. Hikaru went home to his parents twice, to keep them happy, and was knocked out of the Meijin preliminaries, but advanced into the Honinbo league. He had also embarked on tutoring as a way of generating some immediate income, but wasn't very good at it: it was surprisingly hard to describe and explain something that seemed easy and obvious in such a way that it was understandable. Most of his pupils didn't ask him back after the first few lessons.
Just because the routine felt normal, it didn't mean nothing had changed. Hikaru felt tense, an underlying, constant tension that only vanished for half an hour each morning, just after he had masturbated in the shower. The rest of the time, he felt uneasy, restless, and disturbingly inclined to stare at Touya when they were together, and at other people when they were not.
Catching himself one morning, when he and Touya were taking the train to the institute together, he looked away, focusing his gaze instead on a young woman in a low-cut dress. She was attractive, there was no doubt about it: firm rounded boobs, long well-defined legs, shiny lustrous hair. He felt a pleasant twitch between his legs, allowing himself a brief fantasy involving her breasts, his hands, and shiny white come in long black hair.
And yet...
His gaze moved back to Touya, who was looking out the window. The slight twist of his neck meant that one of the sinews stood out, throwing the hollow at the base of his throat into deep shadow. Hikaru nearly whimpered: he could touch Touya, sure, but not like that. He closed his eyes and wondered how Touya would react if his rival licked him. Not to mention how the train full of people would react. He shivered, clenching his hands, morbidly curious as to when the tension would snap, and how.
*
The tension snapped one Saturday morning. Hikaru woke up, and stared at the wall, taking a moment to process that Touya's erection was pressing against his own.
He was used to feeling his erection poking him in the thigh, or in his stomach, or else to discover that his own arousal was pressed hard against some part of Touya's anatomy. They had both maintained the polite fiction that they didn't notice, even after Touya's nice-that-you-know-that-part-of-me speech.
Yet here they were, in a deep full-frontal embrace, their erections rubbing against each other with every breath.
Touya was awake, he was sure of it. He was used to his breathing patterns by now, was used to noticing whether his position was wholly relaxed in sleep, or held by the consciousness of wakefulness. Thrusting his hips forward, his erection rubbed hard against Touya's; the motion drew a gasp from him.
"I'm bigger'n you," Hikaru said, in challenge.
"Are not." The voice was wide awake and keenly interested.
"Am too," he repeated, thrusting again, feeling Touya's arms tighten around his shoulders in response. "Quiver before my mighty sword, peasant!" There was laughter, and then Touya's hips bucked, causing his erection to slide along Hikaru's. Hikaru bit back a moan.
"Let's settle this with a duel." Touya spoke in his ear, breathless and eager and something that Hikaru couldn't define, but which made him shiver.
"You're on."
Their arms tight around each other, they moved their hips, their penises rubbing and clashing together in a rough approximation of fencing. Hikaru was biting his lower lip so hard he thought he might make it bleed, but it would be worth it, nothing could possibly be worth stopping for, not now.
Other than the realisation that he was about to come. He paused, out of breath, and lifted his head, searching out Touya's gaze. Touya was looking about as flustered and desperate as Hikaru felt.
"I," Hikaru said, "I think I'd better go into the bathroom..."
"No." Touya's hands were on his hips, holding him back. "No. Shindou. Stay."
Hikaru paused, his chest heaving, and he stared at Touya for a long moment. Realisation dawned that this situation was already so far out of his control that a little further didn't matter, and he leaned in, pressing his face to Touya's shoulder. They both breathed for a few seconds, silently, and then began moving again.
The motion was different, this time. There was no longer any pretence they were fighting; their hips were grinding in a slow, undulating movement, each thrust setting off sparks along Hikaru's spine. It was getting hard to think, and when Touya slipped a leg over Hikaru's, tilting his hips further forward and somehow contriving to eliminate any and all space between them, it was too much: Hikaru came, whimpering quietly, his face pressed against Touya's throat. Immediately afterwards, he felt a hard tremor pass through Touya's body, and then he, too, stopped moving.
Hikaru held still, staring at the wall opposite, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. He'd just... They'd just... The language centre in his brain gave up trying to find words for it, and his focus went instead to physical sensations: the glowing relaxation in his body, the way his hair was sticking damply to his forehead and his pyjamas bottoms were sticking unpleasantly to his skin. And Touya's shape, warm against him.
He lifted his head and met Touya's eyes. It was like running headlong into a brick wall: nothing else existed, the eyes demanded his absolute and immediate attention. He held eye contact, noting that Touya did the same. But then, Touya never flinched away from anything, never backed down from a challenge. In fact, he sought out challenges, despite his fear. And he was honest and direct and passionate and he had really incredibly beautiful collarbones. Hikaru's heart swelled, and he tugged Touya closer, into a rough, abrupt embrace.
"Shindou?!"
"That was niiice," Hikaru crooned, giddy and delighted and full of love for his rival. "Really nice!"
"And here I was, thinking you'd be embarrassed again."
"Nooo. Not unless you are. Are you?" He lifted his head, seeking out eye contact again. Touya smiled at him.
"No."
"Good. I want to do it again. I mean, not right now!" He blushed, suddenly worried that he came across as a pervert. "But sometime. Can we?"
"Of course."
"Cool." Suddenly too full of energy to remain where he was, Hikaru bounced to his feet, picking out clothes for the day and grinning at Touya before heading to the bathroom. Touya was still in bed when Hikaru got back from his shower. His long hair was tousled and messy and sticking to his face, and he looked either dazed or sleepy, Hikaru wasn't quite sure which, but he suddenly regretted the "not right now" part of his speech. He blushed, wanting to touch him, and conscious that he probably couldn't.
"I'll try to cook breakfast while you're in the shower," he said, smiling uncertainly, the post-orgasmic elation beginning to evaporate.
"Lord save us," Touya said, with no particular malice, following Hikaru's example and heading to the bathroom.
Hikaru couldn't really blame him. When he entered the kitchen, there was a click: the rice cooker, which Touya set every night to start automatically the next morning, had just finished. Hikaru left it where it was, so it would retain the heat, and reflected that whatever else he did, there would be rice for breakfast. Looking through the cupboards, he found instant miso soup and grinned in triumph. Boiling some water in a kettle was easy enough, so he did, putting the powder and the seaweed into two small bowls. That left the vegetables: looking in the fridge, he found some carrots and other root vegetables he couldn't quite identify. They would do. He took them out, found a knife, and began cutting them into thin match-length sticks.
The water boiled, and he poured it into the bowls, stirring the mixture with a spoon. Setting the bowls on the table, he returned to the vegetables, wondering how anyone ever managed to keep things warm while they made the rest of the meal. Maybe housewives had real skill after all.
He wasn't sure how long it would take to cook the vegetables, but he prided himself on his cunning in pouring what was left of the boiled water into the pot, thus saving some time. Leaving the vegetables to themselves, he made tea, then got rice into the bowls as Touya stepped into the kitchen, his hair damp from the shower. Hikaru's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of him; he wondered if Touya had the slightest idea how attractive he was.
"Nearly ready," he said. "As soon as the vegetables are cooked."
Touya padded over to the pot, glancing down into the briskly-boiling water. Taking a pair of chopsticks, he fished out a piece and ate it, chewing carefully.
"They're done," he said, lifting the pot and draining the contents. "A bit overdone, actually."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Not bad for a first try." Touya put the things in bowls and brought them to the table, sitting down and reaching for his tea. Hikaru sat down as well, beginning to eat, not quite sure what to say, or if anything needed to be said. The miso soup had had time to cool down, so he finished that quickly, then concentrated on the rice and vegetables.
"When can we do it again?" he heard himself say. Oh, crap. He continued, hurriedly. "I mean, you said it was all right to do it again, but not when." Blushing, he ate several pieces of soggy vegetables, careful not to look up. Had Touya meant in six months, maybe, or was he thinking more in terms of decades?
"You're going home to your parents today, aren't you?"
"Eh, yes?" What had that got to do with anything?
"Tomorrow, then. When you come back. If you want."
That soon? It was hard to breathe again, and he looked up, meeting Touya's eyes. It was a strange realisation, but he was suddenly sure: Touya wanted it as much as he did.
"Okay." His voice sounded high-pitched, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The rest of the morning was spent in a thick silence, and they both seemed relieved when they could go their separate ways, Hikaru to the institute and Touya to his Korean lessons.
*
That evening, for once in his life, he complimented his mother's cooking. This, in combination with the fact that he went to bed early, meant that she wondered if he was ill.
"I just have an important match tomorrow, that's all," he said, climbing the stairs. "I want to be properly rested for it."
In actual fact, he didn't fall asleep until after 2 a.m., his mind aflame with visions of Touya and what the two of them were going to do. He wanked four times, and it still wasn't enough to stop the expectant tension.
He woke up feeling tired, and wanked, showered, and dressed automatically, yawning as he ate breakfast. On an impulse, he kissed his mother's cheek before going off to the institute, leaving her overwhelmed and confused in addition to her default state of being worried for him.
The game was his final one in the Tengen preliminaries, and would determine whether or not he entered the league. His opponent was some 8-dan or other, a sharp-faced man in his forties, who looked resentful at the mere idea of having to play a first-dan.
Hikaru sat down to the game without any sense of nervousness or even expectations of how the game would go. He played slowly, potential futures flashing through his mind in patterns of black and white, flickering and changing as he placed the stones. Most of his mind was on Touya: what he sounded like when he came. The way he moved, the way he smelled. How his breath had felt against his neck as he panted.
He wondered, dimly, if anyone in the room noticed if he played most of the game with a massive hard-on, but knew that he'd never find out. Who'd confess to having noticed something like that, after all? The game proceeded normally, as far as Hikaru could tell, though despite the patterns whirling and rearranging themselves in his mind, his attention was elsewhere, and he played automatically.
Finally, it was all over, and he was free to leave. He ran to the train station, dancing with impatience as he queued to buy the ticket, then ran to catch the train. There was a free seat: he sat down, trying to remember if he had won or not.
*
"Hello?"
"Touya, where are you? It's nearly seven p.m."
"I have my Chinese lesson today, remember? It begins at seven thirty. I'm eating out beforehand, help yourself to some dinner from the freezer."
"...When will you be back?"
"At the earliest, nine."
"..."
"I'll see you then."
*
Part two.
Part three.