Og ég stend alltaf upp
Title: Puddle Jumping
Fandom: Konjiki no Gash Bell
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: Set after the Faud arc and just slightly into the Clear arc -- though no real spoilers.
It has stopped raining -- not that it matters. Kiyomaro is still very wet. The umbrella has been about as helpful as a soggy poodle for keeping him dry.
And Gash is jumping in puddles again.
"Unnuuuu!" Gash exclaims as he heads towards the next one, arms akimbo and palms outspread. His blue cloak drips and his white socks are now brown.
And guess who will have to give the little demon a bath later? Kiyomaro huffs, running a hand through his hair. He shivers slightly; the wind is cold through the mesh of his sweater. He really should be home; there is so much to plan, these days. He can't remember the last time he has had a good night of sleep, or spent a single day without worrying when the next attack could come.
Splash! Muddy water erupts outward. Gash laughs, big eyes scrunching up into arcs of delight.
"Kiyomaro!" he exclaims, feet kicking in the puddle. "Come on!"
Gash says this every time it rains. And every time there are puddles.
Kiyomaro drops back a few more steps, just in case. "Don't even think about it. I don't want to get more wet and muddy. Stop it already, I'm too busy to clean up this mess!"
"But you're already wet and muddy!" Gash points out, then rushes off to the next puddle.
Kiyomaro opts to scowl at the demon. It's not one of his more impressive scowls though -- Gash barely reacts.
"Gash! Why in the hell did you drag me out for a walk anyway if you just want to jump into puddles?! We don't have time for this either --"
"Unuuu!" Splash! "Because that's why!"
Kiyomaro adeptly sidesteps the wash of water. "Gash! What's gotten into you?!"
"It's fun," Gash insists. "Try it!"
"No!"
"But ... puddles are the best things, after storms." Gash turns mid-puddle to face his bookkeeper. "Last night was a bad one. All that thunder!"
Gash steps out of the puddle gingerly.
"Yeah, you don't have to tell me that. You took up half of my bed, hogging the covers!" Kiyomaro grouses. "Whoever heard of a lightning demon being afraid of thunder?!"
Gash crosses his arms. "I wasn't scared! I was just protecting you!"
"Yeah. Right."
"I was!" Gash takes the opportunity to return to his side. "I'm not scared of storms. Er. Anymore. I'd even fight a storm for you."
Kiyomaro rolls his eyes. He has the opinion that it's the other way around. But as Gash reaches up to tug at his hand, he finds it doesn't really matter. As long as he knows his role in their partnership, it doesn't matter what Gash thinks.
"Don't be stupid."
"But I would. Any thing. Any time. All the time, Kiyomaro. It's one of my promises." Gash pauses, hands dropping. His eyes lose their mischievous glint and his posture straightens to its normal, unyielding stance.
It occurs to Kiyomaro, right then, how odd that he considers Gash's serious expression to be normal now. But that was before ... before everything.
"I wasn't scared," says Gash. "But ..."
"Gash?"
"The storms are getting worse, aren't they? And you are right. I don't have time to be scared."
"I ... uh ...no. That's not --" Kiyomaro blinks, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Gash -- his whiny, crybaby partner -- could possibly be saying something deeper beyond just storms and puddles.
But ... now that he's really thinking about it ... the normally gregarious demon has been quiet as of late. Most days see Gash going off on his own to train. Unlike before, Kiyomaro doesn't see Gash for more than an hour at a time, usually near mealtimes or bedtime.
Kiyomaro, himself, hasn't exactly been very friendly either. He knows that Suzume and the others miss him. But he can't, not now.
All the bookkeepers have been training, each alone, although they're fighting for a common goal.
Since Demulto, since Faud, and now with Clear...
How long has it been?
"But last night, I remembered a very important promise," Gash suddenly says. "There's been a lot of promises, but I remembered. That's why I wanna walk out here today. I don't have time to be scared. But I have time for my promises, especially my first --"
"You're first promise?" Utterly puzzled now, Kiyomaro does not notice the sly look that flashes across Gash's face. "What does Koruru have to do with walking in the --"
"That's not my first promise, Kiyomaro." Gash stares at him, eyes wide and head slightly tilted.
"It's not?!"
"You ... don't remember?" Gash's face furrows, and he folds his arms together. "Well, it doesn't matter if Kiyomaro doesn't remember. I do!"
Kiyomaro should have known to be ready. But suddenly there's a jerk on his arm, his balance shifts and he stumbles forward ---
SPLASH!
"GASH!" The puddle is ankle deep, squishy and cold. "WHY YOU LITTLE ----! Did you promise to always push me in the mud or something?"
"Unuuu! No! Don't be silly!" Laughing, the demon lets go of Kiyomaro's hand and dodges the swipe the bookkeeper aims at his head. "Oww! But Kiyomarooooooo ... the puddles are the best part!"
The wind blows through the mesh of Kiyomaro's sweater. The forecast for tomorrow calls for even more rain.
Gash races away to the next puddle, looking for all the world like a careless six year old.
Running his hands through his drippy hair, Kiyomaro lets out a huge sigh. He knew his role in their partnership. Someone has to be the adult, even if he's only fourteen years old. There's demons to defeat, especially now that Clear ...
SPLASH!
"GASH!" Kiyomaro roars.
"I promised!" Gash repeats.
"What in the hell does that have to do with splashing me with mud?!"
"Mud is fun," Gash says, then grins. "It's the only reason we have storms, y'know. So there can be mud, and fun, and friends to splash with."
Splash! Gash's laughter rang in the air, high and pure. "Come and catch me, Kiyomaro!" In the minute it takes Kiyomaro to wipe the splatter off, Gash is already down the street. For a moment, Kiyomaro stares after him, eyes thoughtful.
Friends, huh? he thinks, and remembers the short span of time right before the demon battles. Before they knew anything about spellbooks. Before Brago. Sherry. Koruru. Demulto. Faudo. And the current storms. About what Gash had promised, even before they knew of their bond as bookkeeper and demon. Oh.
When he is certain Gash isn't looking, Kiyomaro bends his knees just so.
SPLASH! Mud squishes, the water froths, and he finds that yes, a chuckle is bubbling up from his stomach.
Yeah. Puddles are the best part.
And Kiyomaro thinks, just for a moment, that they might be okay.
======================================
Title: She Moves in Mysterious Ways
Fandom: Okami
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: Not much; perhaps midgame (since it references several brush techniques?)
It's not that she likes the rain. It soaks her fur, clings to her whiskers, and the mud sticks to the fur between her toes. Issun has hidden himself under the mirror on her back and is grumbling up his own storm.
"Aww, Ammy, make with the sun already!"
A soft jabbing accompanies each word; he's poking her with his brush again.
It itches.
She gives herself an all-over-shake and is rewarded by a high squeak of indignation.
"STOP THAT YOU FURBALL! I ain't no piece of popcorn here!" Issun crawls up to her ears, swatting at them with his sword. "You laughin' at me, fuzzbreath?!"
She can almost see the metaphorical steam rising from his cap as he jumps up and down in irritation. She can feel his weight in a way that is disproportionate to his size.
Issun always manages to fill more than his share of space.
Still, one particularly laden drop sends him slipping off the side of her head; only his quick grab to her whisker saves his dignity. Issun scrambles back under the mirror.
"AMMY!" he scolds. She can hear what is unspoken in his voice, the wish. Her ears are always tuned to prayers, no matter from whom or what.
All it would take is a clear view of the stormy sky, a twirl of a brush ... then ... the sun.
"Ammmmy! Are you spacing out again you furball?! Do I have to mention you SMELL when you're wet?! At least have the sense to get out of the rain!"
Sense? She blows a breath through her whiskers (ah breathing ... and whiskers ... such a thing!)
Her logic is that of the rain, the sun, the night, the wind, and everything that moves across the earth or lays still in sunlight (and the rain). She tilts her head back. And she moves, her paws (paws?-hands?-brush?) gathering beneath her to ...
SPLASH!
"AMMY! What in the ---!" the tiny wail makes her raise her paws even higher, again and again, muddy water spraying out in all sides. "WHY ARE YOU STOMPING IN PUDDLES?!"
Because, something whispers with what might have been her voice or what might have been the wind.
Because she can choose be a muddy goddess and she can choose to stomp in the rain.
Because it still rains, even when she does not choose. The sun still comes up, even when she oversleeps. And the world turns and turns. It has its own will (though she and it are one and the same). She directs the flow, but she is a part of the sway (one and the same).
"Ammmmmmmmy!" Issun jabs at her fur again. "My scrolls are ruined!"
She spies an overhang on the far side of the hill. With a powerful spring of her haunches, she's off, trailing flowers in her wake. Within moments, they are under cover. She raises her left hind foot and chews at the space between the toes. (Ah mud -- so nasty! Such a thing --!)
"Stupid furball!" Issun stamps towards her nose again. Beady black eyes peer into hers. At this distance, Issun consumes her entire field of vision, and her world defined by that one very irritated little voice.
"We're going to have to buy more brushes and paints at the next trader. There better be some demons we can raid ...though it'd be so much easier if you just make the sun come out! What's the use of being a god then, if you don't make with the brush stuff?"
His own brush twirls in the air, making a perfect circle.
Nothing happens.
She yawns and threads her tongue deeper between each little toe, whiskers twitching slightly at the splutter of indignation. Issun marches back to her ears and vents his frustrating by swatting at her ear tufts.
"Are you listening to me?!"
Yes. His voice is the world.
(And the world becomes flat and her paws/hands/brush all move and the wind is warm and it dries her fur and Issun's clothes and his parchments too.)
Issun quiets, and they both settle down in the grey shadow of the rocks. The scent of earth lies thick in the air.
The puddles and the rain, the mud and the wind, and the yelping from that little voice -- all so full of everything. (And oh, such an everything!) The wet fur as well. And the knowledge that she will be dry.
One and the same, because she is, and because of what she is, the sun will come. As will the rain.
And 'til the time comes for shining, the rain is good for napping. And the rain is good for flowers. Even if it does feel like a bath.
Though she doubts Issun will understand.
======================================
Title: Rainy Days and Igo
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: None
SPLASH! The muddy water sloshed everywhere.
"Oy! Touya!" Shindou complained as he shook his legs. "Watch out!"
Akira opened and closed his mouth, then wisely decided to step out of the ankle deep puddle before continuing. In truth, he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going; the argument with Shindou had effectively blinded him to their surroundings. Now his new suit pants were ruined. As were his shoes.
Shindou's pants hadn't exactly escaped the mini tsunami either. Droplets of mud spattered his jacket as well.
"Ah. Well, that was rather clumsy of me." Akira admitted as he moved his umbrella awkwardly. His toes made squishing sounds as he took another few steps away from the puddles.
"Ugh, I just BOUGHT this, you know! It was special order! Do you know how hard it is to find ties with the number 5 written all over?"
"Yes, well," this was the part he was supposed to apologize, Akira figured. If it had been anyone but Shindou --
"Man, you weren't paying attention, huh?!" Shindou groused. "BIG surprise there."
"Well, I ... apologize. Even if it was somewhat your fault."
"What?!" Shindou twirls around, scattering the droplets on his umbrella. "Oh hell no. How is this my fault?"
"If you would've just agreed that the pincer was a horrid move, then we could've moved on to a more sensible topic. But no, you had to argue with me ..."
"Because it was the RIGHT move!"
"You know it wasn't! Why must you be so stubborn all the time? With every little thing?"
"So it's my fault you weren't paying attention?"
Akira huffed. "But I was right!"
"Oh yeah?!"
"Yes!"
"Well, at least I'm not the one covered in mud!"
Normally, in such a situation, Akira would have never raised his voice. Normally, Akira would have merely turned away, bid whoever was arguing with him a polite, but firm goodbye, and left. Normally, he would have never gotten into such an argument in the first place. Normally .... didn't ever fit Shindou Hikaru.
Which was why Akira reached over and shoved his rival into the mud puddle.
"AUUUUUGH! TOUYA, YOU JERK!" Muddy water frothed as Shindou stood up, spluttering. "Why in the hell did you do that?!"
Akira blinked. "Uh ..."
"What are you --- THREE years OLD?!"
"Um." Akira tilted his umbrella forward, as if that would have helped save him.
It didn't. With an almighty yank, Shindou had toppled him into the puddle as well. Now they both were utterly wet, utterly muddy, and utterly fuming.
Akira pushed his dripping bangs back. "Shindou. You are a totally ... total ... I do not have the appropriate words, but I believe jerkface might cover it."
"Hmph, you pushed me first," grumbled Shindou, but there was an odd quirk to his lips. And as Akira watched, the twitch grew until Shindou dropped his umbrella and started laughing.
"Jerkface? Is that the best you can come up with?" he gasped.
"Very well then. Shindou Hikaru, you are a total imbecilic mouthbreathing dolt who's existence makes me doubt the progress of evolution. A walrus with a toothache has a better attitude than you and I feel that even drunken pigs would be taken aback by your rather loose definition of manners. I have no idea why I put up with you!" Akira said as he sloshed towards his rival, not stopping until Shindou was under the cover of his umbrella. "Are you satisfied now?"
It may have been futile, seeing as to how they couldn't possibly become more drenched, but it gave him something to do while Shindou had his ... spasms ... of hilarity in the middle of the puddle.
A few side shaking moments later, Shindou finally finished gasping. He took one glance up at the umbrella, then grinned. "Hmm, not bad. Doubt evolution, eh?"
"Yes," Akira said as he waited for some other retort from his rival. He hoped it would be soon; the mud was beginning to really irritate him.
Shindou shook his head, breath hissing through his teeth. "Okay, okay. I give. The pincer was a stupid move. But you didn't have to shove me into the mud!"
"At least it made you come to your senses." Akira said stiffly and as properly as he could, given that circumstances.
Shindou gave him an amused look as he bent to retrieve his umbrella. Instead of putting it over his had, he folded it, and stepped closer to Akira. They must've looked a sight -- two half grown men in suits, pushing each other in puddles, sharing an umbrella.
"Why can't you ever admit it without a fight?" Akira asked.
"What?"
"Do you expect me to taunt you or something? I know you do it to deliberately taunt me! Why?" Akira asked. "You're not stupid, you know I'm not stupid, yet every single time! This is like I AM three years old! No, worse! Even at three, I never would have ... ever ... why?! What is with you?"
Shindou tilted his head. And then, the grin softened. "Because it's FUN. Because I can. That's why. Do you think I really would do this with anyone else? Who else will I find to shove me in the mud when I need it?"
Akira stopped. For a moment, there was nothing but the soft patter of rain upon his umbrella.
Then Shindou sneezed. Akira frowned, then sighed. "Come on, my apartment is closest. We can get dry and continue this conversation elsewhere. Without the mud."
Shindou grinned and when Akira stepped out of the puddle, he followed closely along instead of opening his own umbrella.
"Hey Touya?"
"What?"
"I hope you know that I refuse to wear anything of yours with argyle!"
Shindou made a rather satisfying sploosh when he pushed him in again.
======================================
Title: Foxes in Tokyo: Rainbow Connection
He moved like a cat through the rain, paws held high and toes flicking with each step. His ears were flat against his skull and his eyes were narrow slits.
From the vantage point under her umbrella, Akita watched Chanti walk along the side of the house, trying to stay underneath the eaves. He turned and glanced over his shoulders once, catching her gaze.
"Why are you following me? I told you not to come." His legs stiffened. "And why are you giving me that look?"
"Is everything okay?" she asked. "You seem a bit ..."
"What?" Chanti tilted his head.
"Um." Akita hesistated. Kitsune were a rather mercurial beasts. One moment, Chanti would be laughing and playing tricks, the next she would catch a glimpse of a sly look and he'd be all teeth and predator-like.
But there was something different about his mood. For all his odd quirks, he had never been ... peevish, as if his fur did not fit. The kitsune was shifting from foot to foot even as she watched. It made her nervous as well. He had said not to follow, but if something could unnerve Chanti ...
"You'll be in the way." He rumbled.
"Is there something that's going to eat me?"
"I'm not going to stop it if there is," Chanti sniffed. "Maybe there'll lots of teeth."
Akita twirled her umbrella one foot hesitating, but then decided to stay. The key word was maybe, he wanted her to assume something. And if it had been dangerous to her, his hackles would not have been raised as they were, challenging.
"You're awfully well groomed for facing something with teeth."
"I'm always well groomed. Even if the rain's ruining it," Chanti's whiskers flicked back and he gave her a long glare down his nose.
"But ... didn't you know that it was going to rain? It was in the forecast, and you usually know better. Unless?" She gripped her umbrella handle tighter.
"It's not something to do with --" she gestured vaguely in the air. "It's not going to be dragons again? Is there going to be another hole in the house?!"
"No," Chanti said dismissively. "I don't feel that it has anything to do with me."
"You didn't answer my question!" Akita insisted. Details, she had found out (the hard way), mattered.
"How should I know if something is going to rip a hole in your house? I can only tell you it has nothing to do with me." Chanti said peevishly as he sat down.
"So if you knew it was going to rain, why did you groom your fur?"
"Hmph," said Chanti, and he turned his back on her. Akita twirled the umbrella slowly. A few errant drops splattered on Chanti -- who whirled around and actually pulled his lips back in a silent snarl.
She knew the feeling of danger. The sudden twirl of her stomach, the icy -oh-no!- moment that happened when suddenly something very dark, very old, and impossibly toothy reared up from whatever hole Chanti had dug it out of. But she didn't get the sense right now, even faced with those sharp teeth.
"Fine. If you're going to be that way, see if I help you later!" she said. Chanti merely sniffed and turned his back to her again. "Look ... I do just want to help."
"You can't. And there is nothing to help!" The brushbottle tail flicked. "So you can go away now."
"Fine!" She turned, heading back down the lane towards her house. The rain had lessened somewhat, and she could see the beginnings of sun break through the clouds. The air smelled of ozone and earth. Steam rose from the pavement. Turning, Akita lowered her umbrella slowly, searching the sky and blinking through the drops that fell in her face. Even if Chanti had said there was nothing ...
Maybe ...
There was a rainbow. It twisted in the air, dancing inbetween the sunlight and the rain, moving like an eel through the columns of clouds. Akita caught her breath as it twined and twirled, flashing bright and heralded by lightning and thunder which flickered and crashed in its wake.
"What is that?" she whispered as she dropped the umbrella. It was coming closer, Akita realized, spiraling out of the sky, towards her -- and as it came, she could see that it wasn't one creature, but a million-billion of little feathers -- each twirling, each carrying a the entire spectrum of color upon its length.
"Watch out, you idiot!" A thump, and she was rolling against the concrete. She caught a flash of fur, then she felt teeth clamp onto her arm and drag her down the alley. "Stay there and don't look. It's not for you!"
"Chanti?!"
He was gone and she was rubbing the indentions his teeth had made onto her skin. He had drawn blood in his haste, but the cuts weren't deep.
The air was full of a whirring sound, much like the murmur of voices in a faraway room. Akita hid her eyes in her hands -- she had learned from hard experience that when Chanti said not to look -- she should not look.
And the way he had said it --
It's not for you!
The tone was brittle, almost breaking. Chanti never sounded like that.
But he spoke again, and Akira felt it keenly.
"I am sorry. And I am honored. But there is no one here to receive your blessing," he said, and the murmuring grew. "No, I am sorry. The blessing was well meant, but ... no, not her. It is not for her."
The murmurs swelled, and Akita had to press her fingers into her face, nails cutting little half moons in her eyebrows. She really wanted to look. And those little murmurs, thousands and thousands of little voices -- something about it made her think of the sky and the wind and the clouds and the promise of freedom ... of a promise ...
"NO! It is not for her, and there is no one to receive your blessing. Of course, I thank you, as a prince of the wandering, as a prince to the ones of the grain and rice, as I am and always will be. Maybe -- someone will accept your blessing one day. But not today."
And suddenly, all was silence. Akita tilted her head to the side, but all she could hear was the soft click of claws heading towards her.
"You can look now," Chanti said.
"Um," she said as she peered through her fingers. The ordinary sight of the neighbor's house and the alley met her gaze. Whatever had happened, it was over, leaving no change except ... Chanti looked smaller somehow. And very wet. "What ... was that?"
"Mmmmmrgh," grumbled Chanti. "Go home."
"Chanti!"
"It's stopped raining now, and it's full sun," he said. "I'm going to have to groom again."
"Chanti! Aren't you going to --"
"It's a blessing. From the storm gods. A pledge and a promise in the rainbow -- didn't you mortals have that sort of thing in your stories as well? About promises and rainbows?"
"Yeah, but I don't see how --"
"We kitsune do to. But not from the heavens to us ... but between ourselves. When it is raining and the sun shines -- it is when we make one of our most sacred vows."
Chanti started walking. His fur dripped, but not a single muscle twitched. "It's the time my kind can pledge eternal love and happiness and all that shit ... y'know -- a kitsune wedding! And what you saw --- that would've been the vows, written in the language of the sky. But ..." he stops, jaws half open and panting. His paws shift on the earth, toes spreading and gripping the mud as if ready to pounce on prey.
"There is no one for that blessing today. No one. It's rather annoying, don't you think? Do you know how much it happens? That it rains and shines at the same time? Too many damn times!"
Chanti's claws dig deep into the mud. "They always come to me. And it has nothing to do with me! I always tell them there is no one. No one to take the vow, no one to write the eternal bond in the sky. And I have to get all groomed, and it all just gets wet!"
He gave quick rake of the mud with his back feet, as if he was scattering his scat.
"Chanti ..."
"And they even thought that you were there for the vows this time!" Chanti huffed through his whiskers. "As if. It's not for you, yeah? I mean, it's happened before, human and kitsune, but that sort of thing never works out. Vows written in the language of the sky -- it binds things, seals them together forever. And humans aren't made for forever. You're not going to be forever."
"Ah." Akita scratched her nose with one hand as she stared at the growing puddles.
He stopped, growling softly. The triangular head tilted back staring at the sky. "They still come, though. Every stinkin' time. And I tell them there's no one, there hasn't be ANYONE, just me. And I can't make any promises. I'm not good at those. But d'ya think they listen?"
He sighed. "Eh, well, the faster we can find the clocks parts, the quicker I'll be rid of them."
She nods, because she can't think of anything else to say.
"You're bleeding," he said as he started trotting again.
"It's not bad," she said. "Chanti ... when we get all the clock parts, and you find your kind again ...can I see one then? A kitsune wedding? And the vows written in the forever language of the sky? It'd be safe then, right?"
For a moment, he gazed at her, green eyes fathomless.
Then, before she can blink, his eyes crease up into little arcs of mischief as he bounds his way back to her and is shaking and shaking and shaking all those muddy droplets off his fur.
Even as she slaps helplessly at him, she can hear his laughter echoing. It is not in the language of the sky, no, but she has a feeling it's as close as a promise as she's going to get.
======================================
Title: Nigiri and Other Personal Problems Igo Cannot Solve
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
muriwriting (2:42:18 AM): If anything, Akira knew that giving Shindou that manual on sexual education had been a mistake. He knew how his rival could get when he was feeling insecure, and Shindou's nature, of course, meant that the matter had started to magnify itself into huge proportions.
It had come as a complete surprise to the both of them -- when they had finally dropped the "hey, this atari is really a message of my unrequited lust for you" and came out and actually moved beyond the hot smoldering looks -- that Akira had been the one with the experience.
"How in the hell did that happen? You?!" had been Shindou's exact statement. Akira remembered it rather well ... along with the unflattering goggle eyed expression that had overtaken the nervous-excited-omigodwe'reactuallydoingsomething look. "You've done this bef-- What do you mean there's somebody before me?!"
"Technically, uh ... there were two somebodies."
"Two ... what the fuck?!"
"It was years ago! Really, you never seemed to want to move past the "I think I'm letting him know with this tanuki, but I'm not really sure as evidenced by my katteyomi here" so I ..." Akira shrugged. "I was getting mixed messages. I was eighteen. And it was less confusing, and I didn't want to mess it up. Just in case I was reading the igo wrong. But I think I've learned better now."
"What the fuck?!"
"And experience is good!" Akira insisted, as Shindou begin to turn an interesting shade of red. "I mean, the first two weren't exactly ... I know what I am doing now."
"But where does that leave me?!" Shindou practically wilted. "You left me behind again?"
"What do you mean by that?!" Akira had demanded, but Shindou had sealed his mouth shut, and refused to talk about it any more.
Needless to say, the mood had been quite ruined. Their games had a strained tone to them for a few more weeks -- which was something Akira regretted -- before the familiar tension seeped back. This time, he was wise enough not to say anything when that moment arrived. Shindou couldn't quite look him in the face but his fingers on his arm were sure and steady.
muriwriting (2:42:29 AM):
"I've uh ... studied. Some. Stuff. Internet," he mumbled.
As first times go, it was rather awkward and fumbling. Experience had taught Akira that it had been that way, with the first times of the past, but to Shindou hadn't the same experience.
"Whoa. That's like ... nothing like ... what the internet says," he said as he lay beside Akira, one arm flung over his eyes. "Ow."
"Are you --"
"Shut up. I don't want to talk about it."
It was then Akira had gone out and bought the manual. Shindou had not spoken to him since. And their games ...
"I didn't mean it as an insult --" he tried to say during one of those awkwardly-tense games.
"Shut up I don't want to talk about it."
"I mean, when I'm confused that's how I've always tried to figure out things, and --"
"SHUT UP,notmakingitanybetterTouya, I donwannatalkaboutit"
Shindou had lost that game. Badly. That only made matters worse.
The other pros were starting to notice. Ogata was giving him rather speculative looks as he sucked on his ever present cigarette. The man didn't even have to say a word. Akira knew something would have to be done. Soon.
He was just about to breach the subject yet again when Shindou made the first move. He had come just as the salon was closing. Ichikawa had taken one look at him, then hurriedly excused herself, leaving the final lock down to Akira. In the dimmed lights of the salon, Shindou stood, shoulders straight and head held high. He looked as if he was about to walk into some sort of brawl. "I'mready." he said, words coming out in a rush.
"Excuse me?" said Akira, for apparently it was his turn to goggle.
"I'm ready." Shindou repeated slower. "You know. "
"Did youm" Akira swallowed, "finish your reading ...?"
"Gee, thanks for making it sound like homework. The book was worth shit. I think real experience isn't anything like books, just like real games aren't anything like kifu," Shindou said. There was something grim about his words. Grim and determined.
"You ..." a horrid thought occurred to Akira. "You didn't go elsewhere to get experience DID YOU?!" he winced. He hadn't meant to yell the last words. He was rather surprised at the hot flash of indignation. However, with it came an errant thought of how Shindou had once mentioned he had "caught up" in igo.
"SHINDOU! What exactly are you going to do for experience?" And if it involves Waya, I might have to involve some strangling ... he thought.
Something must have shown in his expression, because Shindou threw his hands up immediately.
"N-no!" Shindou shook his head vehemently. One hand had drifted to the cash counter, as if bracing himself. "I didn't go out and get experience with anybody else! It's just ..."
He gritted his teeth. "Oh fuck it, just teach me, okay? It seems like no matter what, you're gonna be my first in everything. First in igo, now first in fucking ... damn. I'm just gonna have to catch up."
Akira had a feeling he was still gaping. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"I know I'm not gonna let you get away from me just because I'm inexperienced." Shindou swallowed. "Just, please don't do the whole running away bit either. Just because I'm not good enough at something. Just like how it is in igo. Don't just leave me behind, okay?"
There was something almost painful about the way Shindou stared at him. As if Shindou had more than enough experience of people leaving and going away because they felt he wasn't good enough.
Akira blinked. Stared a little. Then blinked some more. "Is that really how you see it?!"
Shindou had balled his hands at his sides.
"Shindou -- don't you know?" Akira didn't know if he was going to laugh or cry -- even after all this time? How could he not have known? But luckily he was able to stifle the urge, to either cry or shed tears. "It isn't like that. This isn't igo."
And who do you think has left you because you thought your igo wasn't enough? He felt a flash of guilt, but stifled it immediately. It wouldn't help now.
"We're going to teach each other in this, all right? It's not about who has the more experience. Just like when I play other players, it doesn't count because I'm not playing you. Okay? Those others don't count. It wasn't you."
Shindou frowned for a moment. "So, just because the first --"
"The first, or the second -- maybe not even the third ..."
"What's with the tally? I'm not going to do this if there's going to be a tally!!"
"Shindou. There's NOT a tally! All I'm trying to say --"
"Very badly, by the way!"
"Yes, well, fine. What I'm saying -- badly -- is that it's going to take time. It's always going to take time to find out what you like, what I like, how to move -- just like it did with our games. But that's the only part that's like igo. Well, that and the part that it means something to me now because it's with you. The rest, just as long as we're ... honest ..."
Shindou's eyes flickered slightly; that was fine -- Akira would work on that --
"Just as long as we're honest, I don't see anything changing. We work on it together."
Shindou froze slightly when Akira brushed his arms, then relaxed. A hesistant smile broke out. Akira relaxed. It was going to be okay.
"Um, so can I go first? Or do we have to Nigiri?!"
"SHINDOU!"
Fandom: Konjiki no Gash Bell
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: Set after the Faud arc and just slightly into the Clear arc -- though no real spoilers.
It has stopped raining -- not that it matters. Kiyomaro is still very wet. The umbrella has been about as helpful as a soggy poodle for keeping him dry.
And Gash is jumping in puddles again.
"Unnuuuu!" Gash exclaims as he heads towards the next one, arms akimbo and palms outspread. His blue cloak drips and his white socks are now brown.
And guess who will have to give the little demon a bath later? Kiyomaro huffs, running a hand through his hair. He shivers slightly; the wind is cold through the mesh of his sweater. He really should be home; there is so much to plan, these days. He can't remember the last time he has had a good night of sleep, or spent a single day without worrying when the next attack could come.
Splash! Muddy water erupts outward. Gash laughs, big eyes scrunching up into arcs of delight.
"Kiyomaro!" he exclaims, feet kicking in the puddle. "Come on!"
Gash says this every time it rains. And every time there are puddles.
Kiyomaro drops back a few more steps, just in case. "Don't even think about it. I don't want to get more wet and muddy. Stop it already, I'm too busy to clean up this mess!"
"But you're already wet and muddy!" Gash points out, then rushes off to the next puddle.
Kiyomaro opts to scowl at the demon. It's not one of his more impressive scowls though -- Gash barely reacts.
"Gash! Why in the hell did you drag me out for a walk anyway if you just want to jump into puddles?! We don't have time for this either --"
"Unuuu!" Splash! "Because that's why!"
Kiyomaro adeptly sidesteps the wash of water. "Gash! What's gotten into you?!"
"It's fun," Gash insists. "Try it!"
"No!"
"But ... puddles are the best things, after storms." Gash turns mid-puddle to face his bookkeeper. "Last night was a bad one. All that thunder!"
Gash steps out of the puddle gingerly.
"Yeah, you don't have to tell me that. You took up half of my bed, hogging the covers!" Kiyomaro grouses. "Whoever heard of a lightning demon being afraid of thunder?!"
Gash crosses his arms. "I wasn't scared! I was just protecting you!"
"Yeah. Right."
"I was!" Gash takes the opportunity to return to his side. "I'm not scared of storms. Er. Anymore. I'd even fight a storm for you."
Kiyomaro rolls his eyes. He has the opinion that it's the other way around. But as Gash reaches up to tug at his hand, he finds it doesn't really matter. As long as he knows his role in their partnership, it doesn't matter what Gash thinks.
"Don't be stupid."
"But I would. Any thing. Any time. All the time, Kiyomaro. It's one of my promises." Gash pauses, hands dropping. His eyes lose their mischievous glint and his posture straightens to its normal, unyielding stance.
It occurs to Kiyomaro, right then, how odd that he considers Gash's serious expression to be normal now. But that was before ... before everything.
"I wasn't scared," says Gash. "But ..."
"Gash?"
"The storms are getting worse, aren't they? And you are right. I don't have time to be scared."
"I ... uh ...no. That's not --" Kiyomaro blinks, trying to wrap his mind around the idea that Gash -- his whiny, crybaby partner -- could possibly be saying something deeper beyond just storms and puddles.
But ... now that he's really thinking about it ... the normally gregarious demon has been quiet as of late. Most days see Gash going off on his own to train. Unlike before, Kiyomaro doesn't see Gash for more than an hour at a time, usually near mealtimes or bedtime.
Kiyomaro, himself, hasn't exactly been very friendly either. He knows that Suzume and the others miss him. But he can't, not now.
All the bookkeepers have been training, each alone, although they're fighting for a common goal.
Since Demulto, since Faud, and now with Clear...
How long has it been?
"But last night, I remembered a very important promise," Gash suddenly says. "There's been a lot of promises, but I remembered. That's why I wanna walk out here today. I don't have time to be scared. But I have time for my promises, especially my first --"
"You're first promise?" Utterly puzzled now, Kiyomaro does not notice the sly look that flashes across Gash's face. "What does Koruru have to do with walking in the --"
"That's not my first promise, Kiyomaro." Gash stares at him, eyes wide and head slightly tilted.
"It's not?!"
"You ... don't remember?" Gash's face furrows, and he folds his arms together. "Well, it doesn't matter if Kiyomaro doesn't remember. I do!"
Kiyomaro should have known to be ready. But suddenly there's a jerk on his arm, his balance shifts and he stumbles forward ---
SPLASH!
"GASH!" The puddle is ankle deep, squishy and cold. "WHY YOU LITTLE ----! Did you promise to always push me in the mud or something?"
"Unuuu! No! Don't be silly!" Laughing, the demon lets go of Kiyomaro's hand and dodges the swipe the bookkeeper aims at his head. "Oww! But Kiyomarooooooo ... the puddles are the best part!"
The wind blows through the mesh of Kiyomaro's sweater. The forecast for tomorrow calls for even more rain.
Gash races away to the next puddle, looking for all the world like a careless six year old.
Running his hands through his drippy hair, Kiyomaro lets out a huge sigh. He knew his role in their partnership. Someone has to be the adult, even if he's only fourteen years old. There's demons to defeat, especially now that Clear ...
SPLASH!
"GASH!" Kiyomaro roars.
"I promised!" Gash repeats.
"What in the hell does that have to do with splashing me with mud?!"
"Mud is fun," Gash says, then grins. "It's the only reason we have storms, y'know. So there can be mud, and fun, and friends to splash with."
Splash! Gash's laughter rang in the air, high and pure. "Come and catch me, Kiyomaro!" In the minute it takes Kiyomaro to wipe the splatter off, Gash is already down the street. For a moment, Kiyomaro stares after him, eyes thoughtful.
Friends, huh? he thinks, and remembers the short span of time right before the demon battles. Before they knew anything about spellbooks. Before Brago. Sherry. Koruru. Demulto. Faudo. And the current storms. About what Gash had promised, even before they knew of their bond as bookkeeper and demon. Oh.
When he is certain Gash isn't looking, Kiyomaro bends his knees just so.
SPLASH! Mud squishes, the water froths, and he finds that yes, a chuckle is bubbling up from his stomach.
Yeah. Puddles are the best part.
And Kiyomaro thinks, just for a moment, that they might be okay.
======================================
Title: She Moves in Mysterious Ways
Fandom: Okami
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: Not much; perhaps midgame (since it references several brush techniques?)
It's not that she likes the rain. It soaks her fur, clings to her whiskers, and the mud sticks to the fur between her toes. Issun has hidden himself under the mirror on her back and is grumbling up his own storm.
"Aww, Ammy, make with the sun already!"
A soft jabbing accompanies each word; he's poking her with his brush again.
It itches.
She gives herself an all-over-shake and is rewarded by a high squeak of indignation.
"STOP THAT YOU FURBALL! I ain't no piece of popcorn here!" Issun crawls up to her ears, swatting at them with his sword. "You laughin' at me, fuzzbreath?!"
She can almost see the metaphorical steam rising from his cap as he jumps up and down in irritation. She can feel his weight in a way that is disproportionate to his size.
Issun always manages to fill more than his share of space.
Still, one particularly laden drop sends him slipping off the side of her head; only his quick grab to her whisker saves his dignity. Issun scrambles back under the mirror.
"AMMY!" he scolds. She can hear what is unspoken in his voice, the wish. Her ears are always tuned to prayers, no matter from whom or what.
All it would take is a clear view of the stormy sky, a twirl of a brush ... then ... the sun.
"Ammmmy! Are you spacing out again you furball?! Do I have to mention you SMELL when you're wet?! At least have the sense to get out of the rain!"
Sense? She blows a breath through her whiskers (ah breathing ... and whiskers ... such a thing!)
Her logic is that of the rain, the sun, the night, the wind, and everything that moves across the earth or lays still in sunlight (and the rain). She tilts her head back. And she moves, her paws (paws?-hands?-brush?) gathering beneath her to ...
SPLASH!
"AMMY! What in the ---!" the tiny wail makes her raise her paws even higher, again and again, muddy water spraying out in all sides. "WHY ARE YOU STOMPING IN PUDDLES?!"
Because, something whispers with what might have been her voice or what might have been the wind.
Because she can choose be a muddy goddess and she can choose to stomp in the rain.
Because it still rains, even when she does not choose. The sun still comes up, even when she oversleeps. And the world turns and turns. It has its own will (though she and it are one and the same). She directs the flow, but she is a part of the sway (one and the same).
"Ammmmmmmmy!" Issun jabs at her fur again. "My scrolls are ruined!"
She spies an overhang on the far side of the hill. With a powerful spring of her haunches, she's off, trailing flowers in her wake. Within moments, they are under cover. She raises her left hind foot and chews at the space between the toes. (Ah mud -- so nasty! Such a thing --!)
"Stupid furball!" Issun stamps towards her nose again. Beady black eyes peer into hers. At this distance, Issun consumes her entire field of vision, and her world defined by that one very irritated little voice.
"We're going to have to buy more brushes and paints at the next trader. There better be some demons we can raid ...though it'd be so much easier if you just make the sun come out! What's the use of being a god then, if you don't make with the brush stuff?"
His own brush twirls in the air, making a perfect circle.
Nothing happens.
She yawns and threads her tongue deeper between each little toe, whiskers twitching slightly at the splutter of indignation. Issun marches back to her ears and vents his frustrating by swatting at her ear tufts.
"Are you listening to me?!"
Yes. His voice is the world.
(And the world becomes flat and her paws/hands/brush all move and the wind is warm and it dries her fur and Issun's clothes and his parchments too.)
Issun quiets, and they both settle down in the grey shadow of the rocks. The scent of earth lies thick in the air.
The puddles and the rain, the mud and the wind, and the yelping from that little voice -- all so full of everything. (And oh, such an everything!) The wet fur as well. And the knowledge that she will be dry.
One and the same, because she is, and because of what she is, the sun will come. As will the rain.
And 'til the time comes for shining, the rain is good for napping. And the rain is good for flowers. Even if it does feel like a bath.
Though she doubts Issun will understand.
======================================
Title: Rainy Days and Igo
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: Pure G
Spoilers: None
SPLASH! The muddy water sloshed everywhere.
"Oy! Touya!" Shindou complained as he shook his legs. "Watch out!"
Akira opened and closed his mouth, then wisely decided to step out of the ankle deep puddle before continuing. In truth, he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going; the argument with Shindou had effectively blinded him to their surroundings. Now his new suit pants were ruined. As were his shoes.
Shindou's pants hadn't exactly escaped the mini tsunami either. Droplets of mud spattered his jacket as well.
"Ah. Well, that was rather clumsy of me." Akira admitted as he moved his umbrella awkwardly. His toes made squishing sounds as he took another few steps away from the puddles.
"Ugh, I just BOUGHT this, you know! It was special order! Do you know how hard it is to find ties with the number 5 written all over?"
"Yes, well," this was the part he was supposed to apologize, Akira figured. If it had been anyone but Shindou --
"Man, you weren't paying attention, huh?!" Shindou groused. "BIG surprise there."
"Well, I ... apologize. Even if it was somewhat your fault."
"What?!" Shindou twirls around, scattering the droplets on his umbrella. "Oh hell no. How is this my fault?"
"If you would've just agreed that the pincer was a horrid move, then we could've moved on to a more sensible topic. But no, you had to argue with me ..."
"Because it was the RIGHT move!"
"You know it wasn't! Why must you be so stubborn all the time? With every little thing?"
"So it's my fault you weren't paying attention?"
Akira huffed. "But I was right!"
"Oh yeah?!"
"Yes!"
"Well, at least I'm not the one covered in mud!"
Normally, in such a situation, Akira would have never raised his voice. Normally, Akira would have merely turned away, bid whoever was arguing with him a polite, but firm goodbye, and left. Normally, he would have never gotten into such an argument in the first place. Normally .... didn't ever fit Shindou Hikaru.
Which was why Akira reached over and shoved his rival into the mud puddle.
"AUUUUUGH! TOUYA, YOU JERK!" Muddy water frothed as Shindou stood up, spluttering. "Why in the hell did you do that?!"
Akira blinked. "Uh ..."
"What are you --- THREE years OLD?!"
"Um." Akira tilted his umbrella forward, as if that would have helped save him.
It didn't. With an almighty yank, Shindou had toppled him into the puddle as well. Now they both were utterly wet, utterly muddy, and utterly fuming.
Akira pushed his dripping bangs back. "Shindou. You are a totally ... total ... I do not have the appropriate words, but I believe jerkface might cover it."
"Hmph, you pushed me first," grumbled Shindou, but there was an odd quirk to his lips. And as Akira watched, the twitch grew until Shindou dropped his umbrella and started laughing.
"Jerkface? Is that the best you can come up with?" he gasped.
"Very well then. Shindou Hikaru, you are a total imbecilic mouthbreathing dolt who's existence makes me doubt the progress of evolution. A walrus with a toothache has a better attitude than you and I feel that even drunken pigs would be taken aback by your rather loose definition of manners. I have no idea why I put up with you!" Akira said as he sloshed towards his rival, not stopping until Shindou was under the cover of his umbrella. "Are you satisfied now?"
It may have been futile, seeing as to how they couldn't possibly become more drenched, but it gave him something to do while Shindou had his ... spasms ... of hilarity in the middle of the puddle.
A few side shaking moments later, Shindou finally finished gasping. He took one glance up at the umbrella, then grinned. "Hmm, not bad. Doubt evolution, eh?"
"Yes," Akira said as he waited for some other retort from his rival. He hoped it would be soon; the mud was beginning to really irritate him.
Shindou shook his head, breath hissing through his teeth. "Okay, okay. I give. The pincer was a stupid move. But you didn't have to shove me into the mud!"
"At least it made you come to your senses." Akira said stiffly and as properly as he could, given that circumstances.
Shindou gave him an amused look as he bent to retrieve his umbrella. Instead of putting it over his had, he folded it, and stepped closer to Akira. They must've looked a sight -- two half grown men in suits, pushing each other in puddles, sharing an umbrella.
"Why can't you ever admit it without a fight?" Akira asked.
"What?"
"Do you expect me to taunt you or something? I know you do it to deliberately taunt me! Why?" Akira asked. "You're not stupid, you know I'm not stupid, yet every single time! This is like I AM three years old! No, worse! Even at three, I never would have ... ever ... why?! What is with you?"
Shindou tilted his head. And then, the grin softened. "Because it's FUN. Because I can. That's why. Do you think I really would do this with anyone else? Who else will I find to shove me in the mud when I need it?"
Akira stopped. For a moment, there was nothing but the soft patter of rain upon his umbrella.
Then Shindou sneezed. Akira frowned, then sighed. "Come on, my apartment is closest. We can get dry and continue this conversation elsewhere. Without the mud."
Shindou grinned and when Akira stepped out of the puddle, he followed closely along instead of opening his own umbrella.
"Hey Touya?"
"What?"
"I hope you know that I refuse to wear anything of yours with argyle!"
Shindou made a rather satisfying sploosh when he pushed him in again.
======================================
Title: Foxes in Tokyo: Rainbow Connection
He moved like a cat through the rain, paws held high and toes flicking with each step. His ears were flat against his skull and his eyes were narrow slits.
From the vantage point under her umbrella, Akita watched Chanti walk along the side of the house, trying to stay underneath the eaves. He turned and glanced over his shoulders once, catching her gaze.
"Why are you following me? I told you not to come." His legs stiffened. "And why are you giving me that look?"
"Is everything okay?" she asked. "You seem a bit ..."
"What?" Chanti tilted his head.
"Um." Akita hesistated. Kitsune were a rather mercurial beasts. One moment, Chanti would be laughing and playing tricks, the next she would catch a glimpse of a sly look and he'd be all teeth and predator-like.
But there was something different about his mood. For all his odd quirks, he had never been ... peevish, as if his fur did not fit. The kitsune was shifting from foot to foot even as she watched. It made her nervous as well. He had said not to follow, but if something could unnerve Chanti ...
"You'll be in the way." He rumbled.
"Is there something that's going to eat me?"
"I'm not going to stop it if there is," Chanti sniffed. "Maybe there'll lots of teeth."
Akita twirled her umbrella one foot hesitating, but then decided to stay. The key word was maybe, he wanted her to assume something. And if it had been dangerous to her, his hackles would not have been raised as they were, challenging.
"You're awfully well groomed for facing something with teeth."
"I'm always well groomed. Even if the rain's ruining it," Chanti's whiskers flicked back and he gave her a long glare down his nose.
"But ... didn't you know that it was going to rain? It was in the forecast, and you usually know better. Unless?" She gripped her umbrella handle tighter.
"It's not something to do with --" she gestured vaguely in the air. "It's not going to be dragons again? Is there going to be another hole in the house?!"
"No," Chanti said dismissively. "I don't feel that it has anything to do with me."
"You didn't answer my question!" Akita insisted. Details, she had found out (the hard way), mattered.
"How should I know if something is going to rip a hole in your house? I can only tell you it has nothing to do with me." Chanti said peevishly as he sat down.
"So if you knew it was going to rain, why did you groom your fur?"
"Hmph," said Chanti, and he turned his back on her. Akita twirled the umbrella slowly. A few errant drops splattered on Chanti -- who whirled around and actually pulled his lips back in a silent snarl.
She knew the feeling of danger. The sudden twirl of her stomach, the icy -oh-no!- moment that happened when suddenly something very dark, very old, and impossibly toothy reared up from whatever hole Chanti had dug it out of. But she didn't get the sense right now, even faced with those sharp teeth.
"Fine. If you're going to be that way, see if I help you later!" she said. Chanti merely sniffed and turned his back to her again. "Look ... I do just want to help."
"You can't. And there is nothing to help!" The brushbottle tail flicked. "So you can go away now."
"Fine!" She turned, heading back down the lane towards her house. The rain had lessened somewhat, and she could see the beginnings of sun break through the clouds. The air smelled of ozone and earth. Steam rose from the pavement. Turning, Akita lowered her umbrella slowly, searching the sky and blinking through the drops that fell in her face. Even if Chanti had said there was nothing ...
Maybe ...
There was a rainbow. It twisted in the air, dancing inbetween the sunlight and the rain, moving like an eel through the columns of clouds. Akita caught her breath as it twined and twirled, flashing bright and heralded by lightning and thunder which flickered and crashed in its wake.
"What is that?" she whispered as she dropped the umbrella. It was coming closer, Akita realized, spiraling out of the sky, towards her -- and as it came, she could see that it wasn't one creature, but a million-billion of little feathers -- each twirling, each carrying a the entire spectrum of color upon its length.
"Watch out, you idiot!" A thump, and she was rolling against the concrete. She caught a flash of fur, then she felt teeth clamp onto her arm and drag her down the alley. "Stay there and don't look. It's not for you!"
"Chanti?!"
He was gone and she was rubbing the indentions his teeth had made onto her skin. He had drawn blood in his haste, but the cuts weren't deep.
The air was full of a whirring sound, much like the murmur of voices in a faraway room. Akita hid her eyes in her hands -- she had learned from hard experience that when Chanti said not to look -- she should not look.
And the way he had said it --
It's not for you!
The tone was brittle, almost breaking. Chanti never sounded like that.
But he spoke again, and Akira felt it keenly.
"I am sorry. And I am honored. But there is no one here to receive your blessing," he said, and the murmuring grew. "No, I am sorry. The blessing was well meant, but ... no, not her. It is not for her."
The murmurs swelled, and Akita had to press her fingers into her face, nails cutting little half moons in her eyebrows. She really wanted to look. And those little murmurs, thousands and thousands of little voices -- something about it made her think of the sky and the wind and the clouds and the promise of freedom ... of a promise ...
"NO! It is not for her, and there is no one to receive your blessing. Of course, I thank you, as a prince of the wandering, as a prince to the ones of the grain and rice, as I am and always will be. Maybe -- someone will accept your blessing one day. But not today."
And suddenly, all was silence. Akita tilted her head to the side, but all she could hear was the soft click of claws heading towards her.
"You can look now," Chanti said.
"Um," she said as she peered through her fingers. The ordinary sight of the neighbor's house and the alley met her gaze. Whatever had happened, it was over, leaving no change except ... Chanti looked smaller somehow. And very wet. "What ... was that?"
"Mmmmmrgh," grumbled Chanti. "Go home."
"Chanti!"
"It's stopped raining now, and it's full sun," he said. "I'm going to have to groom again."
"Chanti! Aren't you going to --"
"It's a blessing. From the storm gods. A pledge and a promise in the rainbow -- didn't you mortals have that sort of thing in your stories as well? About promises and rainbows?"
"Yeah, but I don't see how --"
"We kitsune do to. But not from the heavens to us ... but between ourselves. When it is raining and the sun shines -- it is when we make one of our most sacred vows."
Chanti started walking. His fur dripped, but not a single muscle twitched. "It's the time my kind can pledge eternal love and happiness and all that shit ... y'know -- a kitsune wedding! And what you saw --- that would've been the vows, written in the language of the sky. But ..." he stops, jaws half open and panting. His paws shift on the earth, toes spreading and gripping the mud as if ready to pounce on prey.
"There is no one for that blessing today. No one. It's rather annoying, don't you think? Do you know how much it happens? That it rains and shines at the same time? Too many damn times!"
Chanti's claws dig deep into the mud. "They always come to me. And it has nothing to do with me! I always tell them there is no one. No one to take the vow, no one to write the eternal bond in the sky. And I have to get all groomed, and it all just gets wet!"
He gave quick rake of the mud with his back feet, as if he was scattering his scat.
"Chanti ..."
"And they even thought that you were there for the vows this time!" Chanti huffed through his whiskers. "As if. It's not for you, yeah? I mean, it's happened before, human and kitsune, but that sort of thing never works out. Vows written in the language of the sky -- it binds things, seals them together forever. And humans aren't made for forever. You're not going to be forever."
"Ah." Akita scratched her nose with one hand as she stared at the growing puddles.
He stopped, growling softly. The triangular head tilted back staring at the sky. "They still come, though. Every stinkin' time. And I tell them there's no one, there hasn't be ANYONE, just me. And I can't make any promises. I'm not good at those. But d'ya think they listen?"
He sighed. "Eh, well, the faster we can find the clocks parts, the quicker I'll be rid of them."
She nods, because she can't think of anything else to say.
"You're bleeding," he said as he started trotting again.
"It's not bad," she said. "Chanti ... when we get all the clock parts, and you find your kind again ...can I see one then? A kitsune wedding? And the vows written in the forever language of the sky? It'd be safe then, right?"
For a moment, he gazed at her, green eyes fathomless.
Then, before she can blink, his eyes crease up into little arcs of mischief as he bounds his way back to her and is shaking and shaking and shaking all those muddy droplets off his fur.
Even as she slaps helplessly at him, she can hear his laughter echoing. It is not in the language of the sky, no, but she has a feeling it's as close as a promise as she's going to get.
======================================
Title: Nigiri and Other Personal Problems Igo Cannot Solve
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: R
Spoilers: None
muriwriting (2:42:18 AM): If anything, Akira knew that giving Shindou that manual on sexual education had been a mistake. He knew how his rival could get when he was feeling insecure, and Shindou's nature, of course, meant that the matter had started to magnify itself into huge proportions.
It had come as a complete surprise to the both of them -- when they had finally dropped the "hey, this atari is really a message of my unrequited lust for you" and came out and actually moved beyond the hot smoldering looks -- that Akira had been the one with the experience.
"How in the hell did that happen? You?!" had been Shindou's exact statement. Akira remembered it rather well ... along with the unflattering goggle eyed expression that had overtaken the nervous-excited-omigodwe'reactuallydoingsomething look. "You've done this bef-- What do you mean there's somebody before me?!"
"Technically, uh ... there were two somebodies."
"Two ... what the fuck?!"
"It was years ago! Really, you never seemed to want to move past the "I think I'm letting him know with this tanuki, but I'm not really sure as evidenced by my katteyomi here" so I ..." Akira shrugged. "I was getting mixed messages. I was eighteen. And it was less confusing, and I didn't want to mess it up. Just in case I was reading the igo wrong. But I think I've learned better now."
"What the fuck?!"
"And experience is good!" Akira insisted, as Shindou begin to turn an interesting shade of red. "I mean, the first two weren't exactly ... I know what I am doing now."
"But where does that leave me?!" Shindou practically wilted. "You left me behind again?"
"What do you mean by that?!" Akira had demanded, but Shindou had sealed his mouth shut, and refused to talk about it any more.
Needless to say, the mood had been quite ruined. Their games had a strained tone to them for a few more weeks -- which was something Akira regretted -- before the familiar tension seeped back. This time, he was wise enough not to say anything when that moment arrived. Shindou couldn't quite look him in the face but his fingers on his arm were sure and steady.
muriwriting (2:42:29 AM):
"I've uh ... studied. Some. Stuff. Internet," he mumbled.
As first times go, it was rather awkward and fumbling. Experience had taught Akira that it had been that way, with the first times of the past, but to Shindou hadn't the same experience.
"Whoa. That's like ... nothing like ... what the internet says," he said as he lay beside Akira, one arm flung over his eyes. "Ow."
"Are you --"
"Shut up. I don't want to talk about it."
It was then Akira had gone out and bought the manual. Shindou had not spoken to him since. And their games ...
"I didn't mean it as an insult --" he tried to say during one of those awkwardly-tense games.
"Shut up I don't want to talk about it."
"I mean, when I'm confused that's how I've always tried to figure out things, and --"
"SHUT UP,notmakingitanybetterTouya, I donwannatalkaboutit"
Shindou had lost that game. Badly. That only made matters worse.
The other pros were starting to notice. Ogata was giving him rather speculative looks as he sucked on his ever present cigarette. The man didn't even have to say a word. Akira knew something would have to be done. Soon.
He was just about to breach the subject yet again when Shindou made the first move. He had come just as the salon was closing. Ichikawa had taken one look at him, then hurriedly excused herself, leaving the final lock down to Akira. In the dimmed lights of the salon, Shindou stood, shoulders straight and head held high. He looked as if he was about to walk into some sort of brawl. "I'mready." he said, words coming out in a rush.
"Excuse me?" said Akira, for apparently it was his turn to goggle.
"I'm ready." Shindou repeated slower. "You know. "
"Did youm" Akira swallowed, "finish your reading ...?"
"Gee, thanks for making it sound like homework. The book was worth shit. I think real experience isn't anything like books, just like real games aren't anything like kifu," Shindou said. There was something grim about his words. Grim and determined.
"You ..." a horrid thought occurred to Akira. "You didn't go elsewhere to get experience DID YOU?!" he winced. He hadn't meant to yell the last words. He was rather surprised at the hot flash of indignation. However, with it came an errant thought of how Shindou had once mentioned he had "caught up" in igo.
"SHINDOU! What exactly are you going to do for experience?" And if it involves Waya, I might have to involve some strangling ... he thought.
Something must have shown in his expression, because Shindou threw his hands up immediately.
"N-no!" Shindou shook his head vehemently. One hand had drifted to the cash counter, as if bracing himself. "I didn't go out and get experience with anybody else! It's just ..."
He gritted his teeth. "Oh fuck it, just teach me, okay? It seems like no matter what, you're gonna be my first in everything. First in igo, now first in fucking ... damn. I'm just gonna have to catch up."
Akira had a feeling he was still gaping. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
"I know I'm not gonna let you get away from me just because I'm inexperienced." Shindou swallowed. "Just, please don't do the whole running away bit either. Just because I'm not good enough at something. Just like how it is in igo. Don't just leave me behind, okay?"
There was something almost painful about the way Shindou stared at him. As if Shindou had more than enough experience of people leaving and going away because they felt he wasn't good enough.
Akira blinked. Stared a little. Then blinked some more. "Is that really how you see it?!"
Shindou had balled his hands at his sides.
"Shindou -- don't you know?" Akira didn't know if he was going to laugh or cry -- even after all this time? How could he not have known? But luckily he was able to stifle the urge, to either cry or shed tears. "It isn't like that. This isn't igo."
And who do you think has left you because you thought your igo wasn't enough? He felt a flash of guilt, but stifled it immediately. It wouldn't help now.
"We're going to teach each other in this, all right? It's not about who has the more experience. Just like when I play other players, it doesn't count because I'm not playing you. Okay? Those others don't count. It wasn't you."
Shindou frowned for a moment. "So, just because the first --"
"The first, or the second -- maybe not even the third ..."
"What's with the tally? I'm not going to do this if there's going to be a tally!!"
"Shindou. There's NOT a tally! All I'm trying to say --"
"Very badly, by the way!"
"Yes, well, fine. What I'm saying -- badly -- is that it's going to take time. It's always going to take time to find out what you like, what I like, how to move -- just like it did with our games. But that's the only part that's like igo. Well, that and the part that it means something to me now because it's with you. The rest, just as long as we're ... honest ..."
Shindou's eyes flickered slightly; that was fine -- Akira would work on that --
"Just as long as we're honest, I don't see anything changing. We work on it together."
Shindou froze slightly when Akira brushed his arms, then relaxed. A hesistant smile broke out. Akira relaxed. It was going to be okay.
"Um, so can I go first? Or do we have to Nigiri?!"
"SHINDOU!"