Round 5 - Uchida, "Shingata", Fic (●)

[uchikomi]

Pseudonym: Uchida
Title: Shingata
Characters/Pairings: Shindou Hikaru/Touya Akira
Rating: NC-17 (sex)
Warnings/Contains: none
Summary/Notes: Hikaru’s working his way through joseki when Touya plays shingata

It’s the first Thursday in December and they’re entering the lobby of the building housing the Touya go salon when inspiration strikes Hikaru. He turns the idea over in his head a couple of times, sussing it out from a few different angles, and figures he probably must be a genius or something because this is the best idea ever.

“So,” he says to Touya while they wait for the elevator. “I had the best idea ever.”

“I look forward to seeing it,” Touya says.

“Huh?” Hikaru asks. It seems like kind of a weird response, unless Touya already knows what he’s going to say. Which, okay, Touya’s pretty good about being able to read thirty moves ahead in pretty much anything on the board and off, but Hikaru only had this idea like maybe thirty seconds ago so he has to admit that’s impressive even for Touya. “What, like, seriously? I kind of thought I might have to talk you into it. So, like, you just want me to go ahead with it?” he asks, just to be sure.

Touya’s eyes narrow very slightly and he is totally not allowed to get annoyed about this when he’s the one who gave Hikaru the go-ahead. “What are you talking about?”

“Your birthday party,” Hikaru says. “Wait, what were you talking about?”

“My--Shindou, I’m not having a birthday party,” Touya says, aback.

“See? That’s super lame! Your parents are still in Beijing, right? So you have to do something for your birthday and I was thinking we could throw a really awesome party for you. At first I was thinking like a surprise party or something--”

“Please don’t--” Touya attempts to interrupt.

“--but then I thought--yeah, exactly, right? And besides, I don’t really know how to contact any of your friends from school--”

“That’s really not--” Touya starts.

“--oh, but hey, you know what, Ashiwara-san totally knows, right? So I guess I could have asked Saeki-san to ask Ashiwara-san to ask you except not outright but super subtle though Ashiwara-san’s not really a super subtle kind of guy, is he? Well, whatever, I already told you and this is probably easier anyway,” Hikaru says with a shrug. “Anyway, so I was thinking I could get Waya and Isumi to have it at their place, it’s pretty convenient, and maybe it’s a little small but it’ll be totally fine, just wait. It’s gonna rock, trust me,” he says, flashing Touya a grin.

The elevator chimes and the door opens but Touya makes no move towards it, instead tapping a foot on the ground. “Ah...” he trails off, which in Touya terms might as well be an enthusiastic ‘yes, Shindou, you are so incredibly thoughtful and so kind to want to go to all of this trouble on my behalf’. “Shindou, that’s--”

“Awesome, right? So we’ll invite everyone you know, and--oh, hey, we should see if Yashiro wants to come, I bet he will, it’s been like a hundred years since we’ve seen him. So anyway we’ll get everyone to come, and we’ll have a bunch of food, and Isumi can buy us drinks, and it’ll be fun, right?” Hikaru prompts.

“I really don’t think drinking would be a good idea,” Touya demurs.

“Oh come on, you’re turning eighteen, not eight. Besides, we’ll just have him buy us beer, not anything that’ll get us hungover,” Hikaru wheedles.

“No. And don’t trouble your friends; my parents told me I’m welcome to entertain if I like. There’ll be more space,” Touya says.

“What, seriously?” Hikaru asks, not sure if he’s heard Touya correctly. Hikaru’s pretty sure that his parents would kill him if he tried to throw a party while they were gone. “You can just, like.... You know I’m talking, like, a party, right? We’ll play music and Ousama and round go--wait, do you have friends who don’t play go? Man, that is such a weird question. Literally every single person I know plays go, or at least technically they do even if I have to give Akari 25 stones and she still sucks but that’s fine, it’s not like we’ll be playing seriously, especially if we’ve been drinking--”

“We’re not drinking,” Touya says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry; no alcohol, got it,” Hikaru says. “Oh, man, this is gonna be so great. Okay, just make me a list of whoever we should invite, and oh, so did you just want like sushi or something or did you want Western food? We could get pizza! --Don’t worry about it all right now! You can think about it,” Hikaru says. “But I’ll get started. Oh man, this is going to be so great, I promise. It’s going to be totally better than sitting around doing nothing, which, oh my God, please tell me you were at least planning on doing something at least sort of funnish.”

Touya lifts a shoulder in a motion too smooth and quiet to be properly called a shrug. “It’s a Tuesday,” he says. “I have Korean lessons.”

“Urgh,” Hikaru says, wrinkling his nose. “See? I’d never forgive myself if I let you have such a boring birthday. This is gonna be ten times better, I promise. No--a hundred times better, a thousand.”

Hikaru can see him take in a deep, deliberate breath, but Touya holds it so long Hikaru wonders if maybe Touya’s forgotten what he’s meant to say. Eventually he simply says “Thank you,” turning away to press the button for the elevator once more.

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Hikaru says. “Like, super awesome.”

Touya’s not looking at him but Hikaru can see the reflection in the chromed doors of the elevator close his eyes and lower his head, and he kind of hopes that’s a smile he can see tugging at the corners of Touya’s mouth.

He’s seen Touya smile. It’s not like this is some rare event. Though yeah, normally when Touya smiles it’s because of a hand Hikaru’s played or an opinion Hikaru’s expressed about a game they’re dissecting; it’s a surprisingly different feeling to have caused it through something personal, something unrelated to go.

They do non-go stuff, sometimes. Probably. Maybe. They’ve gone shopping together, if he counts wandering around Jinbouchou checking out the used bookstores looking for out-of-print kifu collections and books of tsumego. One time they even went to see a movie--sure, it was mostly just to escape the wicked heat and humidity when the AC at the Touya salon decided to go kaput during the hottest week of August--but it still counts, right?

And birthdays! They totally do birthdays! Like last year when Touya’s parents were around and hosted Touya’s birthday dinner and Hikaru had to sit through two incredibly awkward hours with Ogata making snide comments about Hikaru’s performance in the Juudansen and Ashiwara-san trying to convince Touya to join some cooking class at the community centre with him and Touya’s mom asking him what kind of things he and Touya got up to when they weren’t playing go which is sort of like asking what Hikaru liked to breathe that wasn’t air, and above it all was Touya-sensei, saying little but observing the proceeds with an air of august indulgence that did absolutely nothing to help Hikaru not feel like he was some kind of interloper.

So it’s totally natural that Hikaru would feel compelled to step in and get this whole party thing going for Touya; he’d do it for any of his go-friends, except none of his other go-friends are dumb enough to not have parties for their own birthdays.

“Totally awesome,” Hikaru affirms. “I promise. Trust me.”

***

Hikaru still won’t say it was a bad idea. Yeah, so maybe things have gotten kind of loud and a little rowdy, but that’s what happens when you cram several dozen young people inside a house with food and loud music, even a house as sprawling and spacious as the Touya residence. Touya’s parents aren’t even back until Thursday and Hikaru doesn’t have any games on Wednesday, so they’ll have plenty of time to tidy up. And it’s not like he just sprung it on Touya with no warning; Touya agreed to it and everything, so he’s not allowed to be annoyed.

And besides, whoever brought the booze wasn’t him so Touya totally isn’t allowed to be mad at him for it so if that’s the reason why Touya’s disappeared on him Hikaru’s gonna be kinda miffed.

Touya’s not in the living room, but given how loud everyone’s shouting to be heard over the music videos someone cranked up on the TV Hikaru figures that’s probably no surprise.

He’s not in the study, which does surprise him, but then again the room has been taken over by Waya, four goban, and--after a quick count--ten people. Judging from the haphazard collection of clothing spread out on the floor and the fact that Waya is wearing Nase’s Stassy baseball tee, it looks like they’re playing that stupid strip-musical-chairs variant of round go Waya and Honda dreamed up a couple months back after way too much cheap beer.

A game clock buzzes. “Time!” Waya calls, and everyone lurches over to the board to their left, the people at the ends of the row leaping up and tearing around the corner just as Waya slaps the plunger to start the next round. Stones hit the boards, new prisoners rattle in goke lids, and Fuku’s shimmying out of a baggy green crew-neck shirt he has loosely layered atop his own striped long-sleeved shirt while Komiya grabs Waya’s digi-camo jacket from the floor next to his goban and shrugs it on over his black undershirt.

Hikaru dekes out of the room before anyone can notice him and drag him in; he’s lost track of Touya for so long that he’s really hoping Touya’s not holed up somewhere cursing Hikaru’s name for having invited wanton destruction into his parents’ home.

There’s a thought. He might be in his bedroom. But it’s kind of weird to even think about going to check. They’ve played countless games in there together and Hikaru’s slept over at least a dozen times, but it’s still Touya’s space, and if Touya’s not in his bedroom then it’s kind of like Hikaru’s snooping, and if Touya happens to see him leaving his room then he might think Hikaru’s been doing something weird and there’s just no way that is going to go well at all especially if Touya is actually pissed off about everything.

There’s still the kitchen he can check. Inside it are Iijima and Isumi; Iijima is eating crisps from a small bowl while Isumi stirs what must be tea in a Western-style teacup. “Um, hey,” Hikaru says, tossing the two of them a little wave. “Have you seen Touya lately?”

Isumi takes a sip of his tea before setting his teaspoon down next to the sink. “Yeah, Ochi was just in here and he mentioned Touya was heading outside.

“Ah, awesome, thanks,” Hikaru says. “See you guys in a bit!” he says, heading back to the study.

“Oi, Shindou!” Waya greets. “Was wondering where you were at! C’mon, we need someone to replace Honda since he’s gotta head out,” he says, waving vaguely in Honda’s direction.

“I’m busy, I’m busy,” Hikaru declines. “Bye, Honda; thanks for coming!” he says.

“Yeah, thanks,” Honda replies, accepting the t-shirt Nase’s handing him and tossing a grey hoodie next to the goban at which he’s sitting.

“Shindou! Come on!” Waya protests. Then the game clock beeps. “Time!” he shouts, and the room whirls around while everyone rearranges themselves.

Hikaru takes the opportunity to dodge around the players and slip through the shoji to the veranda.

There he is. Touya stands in the garden just on the other side of the pond, looking down contemplatively at the glass-smooth surface.

Hikaru kicks off his house slippers, stepping into a pair of geta before hopping off the deck and down to the ground.

It’s just a wee bit brisk out; if Hikaru huffs he can see his breath puff up in a cloud before dissipating into the air.

Touya looks up as Hikaru approaches.

“Hey,” Hikaru greets.

“Shindou,” Touya says.

Well, he doesn’t really seem like he’s upset or annoyed or bored or anything, but Hikaru still doesn’t really want to have to ask. “Whatcha up to?” he asks instead.

“Just checking on the koi,” Touya says.

Hikaru crouches down next to the pond, peering down into the water. The water is fairly clear with no trace of ice, and he can see bright spots of colour across the bottom of the pond. “They’re...” he trails off, trying to think of a polite way to say ‘dead’, and settles on finishing a little awkwardly with “not moving.”

“They’re hibernating,” Touya says.

“What, like bears?” he asks, straightening back up just in time to catch the faintest hint of a smile hiding in the corner of Touya’s mouth.

“A similar idea, I’m sure,” Touya agrees.

Now’s when Hikaru can ask if Touya’s enjoying himself, or if a bunch of practically-dead fish are better company than a whole houseful of people here solely to celebrate him. Or listen to loud music and eat free food; whatever, close enough.

Yeah, Hikaru’s pretty sure he can guess Touya’s answer to that.

Touya’s doing the thing where he holds eye contact for way too long and neither of them are saying anything and Hikaru can feel his chest start to tense up and he would really, really, really like to be able to think of something intelligent to say right now.

“Um,” Hikaru starts. “Hey,” he says, trying again, noting the dark patches of red blotching the cheeks of Touya’s normally porcelain complexion. “It’s cold out.”

Touya turns and looks up towards the sky. Hikaru’s got a vague awareness that here in the city the only things they’re really able to see are satellites but when he looks up himself he’s pretty sure he can at least pick out Sirius and Betelgeuse, and he’s relatively sure that dot over there is Mars.

Then something wet specks on his nose.

“Is it starting to rain?” Hikaru asks, holding out his hand palm-up to test for more drops.

“No,” Touya says, closing his eyes. “It’s starting to snow.”

Hikaru wrinkles his nose; it was pretty wet-feeling for snow. “Actually, I kind of think it was rain.”

“There was a thirty-seven percent chance of snow,” Touya says, and Hikaru can hear that familiar annoyance creeping into his tone.

“Which sounds like sixty-three percent chance of rain,” Hikaru challenges.

“That’s not how it works!” Touya protests, turning from the sky back to Hikaru, and Hikaru can’t help but laugh at the indignant crease in his brow.

Hikaru waves him off. “Close enough,” he insists. “Whoa, seriously though, where did this come from?” he asks, feeling little droplets land on his cheeks. In the light of the half-moon and the warm glow from the windows Hikaru can maybe might sort of admit that the meandering paths of the precipitation lend themselves more to snow than to rain.

“It’s not cold enough for it to last for long. It probably won’t stick,” Touya says.

“Aww,” he says. “That’s totally too bad. I’ve been kind of looking forward to snow, and it would be kind of nice if--” it could happen today, he doesn’t say, breaking off before he can sound some kind of sentimental dork.

Touya offers him an inquisitive tilt of his head. “If?”

“If, you know. It could be snowy,” he says lamely, but whatever. “Hey,” he says, changing the subject while Touya still seems to be in a good mood. “Are you--” enjoying yourself, he almost asks, but maybe Touya isn’t, and Touya is definitely the kind of person who wouldn’t be shy about letting him know so maybe there’s a safer question with easier answers that he can ask instead. “Is there anything you want?”

The snow is starting to drift down in defined flakes, and Hikaru can see some catch in the dark canvas of Touya’s hair, glittering for fractions of a moment before melting away into nothing.

Touya’s eyes crinkle in the corners. “Play a game with me,” he proposes.

He can’t say yes. There will never be a time when he wants to say no to that question but his conscience isn’t hesitating to remind him that while they might be perfectly fine to sneak off at other parties to go find a quiet place to play go, it’s not been a time when either of them were the guest of honour.

Touya’s given him an opportunity, though. They could go back and join Waya’s ridiculous round go, and while Touya might have called it frivolous and dumb when Hikaru tried to explain it to him last time, Hikaru knows that in the end anything go will charm Touya and then Touya will have made precious memories this night of fun with his friends. And they are his friends, even if they started out as Hikaru’s, because they’re all young and they all love go and they all have to stick together against the disdain of the older, established pros--or something like that.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Hikaru says instead. His heart pangs in his chest as for a moment he’s almost choked with guilt, but it evanesces in an instant when Touya’s mouth curves into a smile.

Together they head back to the veranda, setting their geta aside and switching back to house slippers as they return to the study just in time to hear Nase shout “Time!”

Waya’s leaning against the near wall, drinking soda from a can. “Hey!” he greets the two of them. “Perfect timing; Fuku had to head out to make it home before curfew, so we’re starting to get a little light.”

“Actually, we were gonna--” Hikaru starts, breaking off when he realizes that if he says ‘play go’ then Waya will just insist they join the round go and that’s about as far from a nice, slow, thoughtful game as he can imagine, so he shuts his mouth instead. “Um,” he tries again. “We were just passing through. But thanks, though!”

Waya rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, you can’t drag Touya away from his own birthday party; let him have some fun for once,” he says, giving Touya a critical eye.

“Thank you for the thought,” Touya says politely.

“We don’t want to play your stupid game,” Hikaru says, exasperated. “Oh, but hey, do you mind keeping an eye on things for me?”

“Uh, kind of busy here running my stupid game to worry about doing your job too,” Waya digs.

Hikaru waves his hand in a dismissive whorl. “Looks like Nase’s running it from here, actually. Look, just make sure no one smokes inside or gets in a fight or whatever, I don’t know, things are probably going to be fine, so please?” he asks, sparing a glance at Touya to make sure he doesn’t look totally horrified by this conversation. Instead Touya looks, if anything, amused, so that’s a comfort at least.

Waya takes a deep, deliberate breath, placing a hand regally upon his breast. “I, Waya Yoshitaka, do solemnly swear to do exactly as good a job as Shindou Hikaru would in minding the zoo. You now officially owe me bigtime.”

“Whatever, whatever,” Hikaru agrees. “Thanks a tonne. Okay, be back in a bit,” he says, giving Touya a gentle push in the small of his back to get him headed towards the door before Waya can come up with any other arguments for keeping them there. It was only a brief touch, but the iciness of Touya’s skin even through his shirt leaves a coldness that lingers in Hikaru’s fingertips for long seconds, dispersing only when Hikaru rubs them together quickly.

“Time!” Nase calls as they leave the room.

“Jeez, Touya,” Hikaru says as they enter the hallway. “You’re fricking freezing; why didn’t you put on a coat?”

Touya shrugs. “I only meant to step outside for a moment. It was feeling a little stuffy in the living room. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some tea,” he says, leading them back towards the kitchen.

A cup of tea sounds just about perfect. “Yeah, awesome, something uncaffeinated for me,” Hikaru requests.

“Certainly,” Touya says, opening the door to the kitchen and holding it open for Hikaru.

Hikaru stops dead in his tracks.

There are people in the kitchen. Saeki-san and Isumi are in the kitchen. Saeki-san and Isumi are in the kitchen together. Saeki’s leaning back against the island and Isumi is pressed up flat against him, no space between them, their arms wrapped around each other, and Saeki and Isumi are kissing.

Not just kissing. Saeki and Isumi are making out, because kissing is just mouths, and Hikaru’s pretty sure that making out is what it’s called when Isumi’s hands are up underneath Saeki’s shirt and Saeki’s hands are in Isumi’s back pockets and Isumi’s rolling his hips against Saeki’s and oh God someone just moaned, and--

--there’s a hand on his hip, Touya’s hand is on his hip, Hikaru’s hip, Touya is touching him right now, his hand blazing hot, burning like a brand into Hikaru’s skin, and when Touya murmurs “Shindou, we should--” in a low voice almost directly in his ear a strangled gasp falls from Hikaru’s lips and he can only watch as if in slow motion both Saeki and Isumi turn to face the two of them in the doorway.

Time speeds up again: Saeki-san whips his hands out from Isumi’s pockets and hooks his thumbs through Isumi’s belt loops instead, Isumi drops his hands down to Saeki-san’s waist, but Touya’s hand remains right where it is, solid and strong and without it Hikaru thinks he would have simply turned tail and fled.

Isumi’s gaze flickers between Hikaru and Touya but Saeki-san’s never wavers: his gaze is lowered, looking between them, almost, and it’s only when Touya takes his hand off Hikaru’s hip that Saeki-san looks up to meet Hikaru’s eyes.

“Um,” Hikaru starts, voice cracking. “I, uh, I mean, you guys--I didn’t--um, we--”

“Our apologies for the interruption,” Touya says, weaving into the silence of Hikaru’s hesitation. “Please excuse us; we were just leaving.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Hikaru offers weakly, and now without the surety of Touya’s hand Hikaru does flee, whirling around and heading back down the hallway, past the living room and study and around the corner down to the bedrooms.

When they reach the door to Touya’s room they stop, stepping out of their house slippers. “Please come in,” Touya offers, sliding open the shoji and gesturing inside.

Hikaru plunks himself down next to the window while Touya fetches the goban and goke. Hikaru breathes on the glass, writing his name in six brisk strokes in the condensation before the fog disappears along with his name.

Touya brings over the goban, setting it before him and offering Hikaru a goke. “Shall we?” he asks, his voice perfectly calm and even as if absolutely nothing extraordinary has happened.

Hey Touya, Hikaru doesn’t say. You saw that, right? You saw them? Saeki and Isumi, our friends, two guys, they were kissing like a minute ago in your kitchen, right?

“Yeah, okay,” he says instead, uncapping his goke to find black stones. Touya takes a fistful of white, and when Hikaru places a single black stone on the board Touya releases them.

Touya counts out the white stones two at a time, and for as many countless numbers of times Hikaru has watched him do this he yet somehow can’t remember Touya’s fingers looking quite this long, his hand looking quite this lithe.

That is the hand that was on my hip, Hikaru thinks, forming the words in his mind with deliberation. Isumi and Saeki-san were kissing and Touya’s hand was on my hip, and Touya has said nothing at all.

He imagines Waya’s reaction, if it had been Waya and not Touya who had walked in with him. Waya would have freaked out. Anyone would have freaked out. Saeki and Isumi were kissing right there in public where anyone could walk in, where anyone did walk in, in fact, and anyone would have freaked out.

Hikaru had no idea. Of course he had no idea; who would? Who would have guessed? Who would have known? Or maybe people do know, maybe everyone knows, maybe Hikaru’s the only one who hadn’t figured it out.

Maybe that’s why, Hikaru thinks. Maybe Touya knew and that’s why.

“Thirteen,” Touya counts. “Odd. You’re black,” he says, sweeping his white stones off the board and putting them neatly back into his goke.

Hikaru picks up the lonely little black stone from the board, worrying it between his thumb and forefinger as he contemplates the possibilities. With this Hikaru gets to dictate the pace of the game, and against Touya on a night like tonight there is only one possibility, komoku, so Hikaru flips the stone up onto his nail into playing position and opens the game.

Touya contemplates Hikaru’s stone for moments before deciding to claim the top left as his by playing 4-3.

Hikaru could play 3-16, but there’s no quicker way to rile Touya’s hackles and speed their pace to doubletime than to play tasukigata--which, were this one of their salon games, would only incite Hikaru to play his stone with a snap and a grin and await Touya’s opening salvos, but tonight he wants something different. Instead Hikaru plays sansan in the lower right. It’s exactly the sort of slow, conservative hand that will lend itself to a more thoughtful match, though only Touya’s response will tell him what kind of game they’ll play tonight.

Touya plays 3-16 himself, left of the lower left star point. Touya’s go has been so aggressive in the past few months that Hikaru’s a little surprised he didn’t play mokuhazushi and push towards Hikaru’s lower right, but this is good, it’s really good. They’ll take their time, they’ll enjoy the night, and maybe the snow will stick after all.

Hikaru plays 15-3, forming a shimari in the upper right. Touya does the same in his lower left, playing 5-16, and with Hikaru’s lower right already strong with his sansan Hikaru approaches in the upper left by playing 3-5.

Touya considers how best to respond to Hikaru’s incursion. With so few stones on the board Hikaru almost doesn’t feel guilty about taking a moment to turn away and sneak a look out the window.

It’s still snowing, really snowing now, the flakes thicker and bolder and falling in greater numbers and density. The ground is still dark, but if he squints it almost looks like the angled top of the boulder next to the pond is starting to whiten. If the snowfront continues to gain strength then it might stay ‘til tomorrow after all.

The glass does little to insulate the room from the cold of the night outside, and a chill shivers through Hikaru.

“Cold?” Touya asks. “I can get us--” and here he breaks off, lowering his gaze before clearing his throat and looking up again. “Ah, would you like a blanket?” he offers, getting to his feet before Hikaru can decline.

“Ahh, it’s fine, it’s fine,” Hikaru says, waving his hands. “I’m not really cold; it’s just since I was looking outside and it looks cold so I thought I felt cold but I’m not cold so I really don’t--” he breaks off as Touya opens the closet to fetch down a dark purple blanket.

“Please,” Touya says bringing it over, and it would just be awkward to refuse it at this point so he ends up reaching up and accepting it.

The blanket is surprisingly soft and fuzzy to the touch, and when Hikaru unfolds it there is a soft, light scent of flowers that wafts up from the fabric, not too strong to be overwhelming, just enough for it to remind him of the winter garden outside.

“Thanks,” he says, throwing it over his shoulders and settling it around himself.

Touya returns to his side of the goban and kneels back down in seiza.

“Hey!” Hikaru protests. “Aren’t you cold, too? Shouldn’t you put on, like, a sweater or something?” he asks, eyeing the thin fabric of Touya’s dress shirt.

“I’m comfortable, but thank you,” Touya demurs.

Hikaru sighs; he’s tempted to toss the blanket to the ground but on the other hand it is actually really soft and cozy so instead he just narrows his eyes. “Well if you’re so comfortable, why haven’t you moved yet?”

“If you’re ready, then I certainly am,” Touya says, the stones whispering against each other as he fetches a stone from his goke, and plays nikken tebasami.

Not bad. Not unexpected, even though Hikaru thought he might have been more likely in this mood to play ikken; nikken feels rather more spacious than Touya’s usual play, and with this Hikaru is sure he’ll be able to make life along the side.

Hikaru looks up, and to his surprise he sees Touya looking not at board but at him, the hint of a smile in the way his eyes curve up in the corners.

He’s probably thinking the same thing I am, Hikaru thinks. The idea makes him grin, and then the smile in Touya’s eyes blossoms as his mouth curves too and it’s kind of nice, really nice, to make Touya smile like that.

Perfect, he thinks. Everything is perfect. It’s Touya’s birthday and it’s snowing outside and the two of them are here inside where it’s warm and they’re playing a game together.

Touya dips his head down a little, gaze lowering back to the board.

“Hey,” Hikaru blurts out. Touya looks up, and Hikaru can feel time ticking away almost as if they’ve suddenly switched to speed-go. “Um, I...” he starts, casting about for something to keep Touya’s attention. “So it’s kind of awesome, right?” he asks.

“Yes,” Touya says quietly. “Thank you, Shindou.”

“Huh?” he asks.

“This party. It’s... nice. I know you went to a lot of effort on my behalf. Thank you,” Touya says.

“Oh, whatever, it was nothing. And don’t worry, I’m not going to make you clean it up; I can come over tomorrow and tidy, or if it’s okay I can just stay over and do it first thing?” he asks.

“Stay,” Touya says. “If--if you’d like.”

“I’d like,” he says. “I’d totally like. Um, but I didn’t really mean this, though. I mean, I wasn’t digging for compliments. I just meant it was nice. The whole idea, you know, the concept of birthdays. I just think it’s nice that one day every year I can just say ‘hey, you know what, I’m really glad you were born because my life is so much better with you in it’,” he says before the import of what he’s said hits him with startling clarity. “Um, I--that is, I mean--” he starts to try and temper himself before he realizes the futility of such a thing. “You know what? I mean it. Every word. I’m happy you’re here. I’m happy we met. I’m happy I get to see you three times a week, I’m happy we get to play, I’m happy--” you’re in my life, Hikaru never says, because Touya plays not a stone but his palm, placed flat in the centre of the board claiming tengen, and before Hikaru’s addled brain can decipher the meaning of this shingata Touya is leaning over the board. Touya’s not looking at him, not in the eye; Touya’s looking down, Touya’s looking at his mouth, and Hikaru’s eyes flutter closed of their own accord in the split second when Hikaru’s body reads Touya’s move before his brain can.

Touya’s kissing him. Touya’s mouth is on his and he’s kissing him. Touya is kissing him, and then he’s not, then he’s pulling back, irises swallowed up with pupils as black as Nachiguro slate.

Touya. It’s Touya. It’s always been Touya, it will always be Touya, and Touya just kissed him, did it on purpose, and as much as Hikaru’s never had to lust, having found all the satisfaction he’s ever needed in his own hands, he understands in an instant what it is that Saeki-san and Isumi had been seeking.

“I couldn’t--” Touya starts just as Hikaru begins “Don’t--”

Touya recoils as if shot, pulling back to his own side of the board, his fingertips flying up to touch his own lips. “I--Shindou, I--” Touya tries again, his voice shaking, and Hikaru knows he has only moments left in which to seize this opening before he’ll have lost this opportunity forever.

Hikaru lunges forward, the blanket falling off his shoulders and pooling around him, fingers scrabbling futilely for purchase in the tight, tailoured fit of Touya’s Oxford shirt. “Don’t stop,” he pleads, voice rough, and he knocks Touya’s hand away from his mouth so that Hikaru can press his lips against it in a kiss of his own, one hand pressed flat against Touya’s chest, the other cupping Touya’s jaw.

His brain is alight with panic--I don’t know what I’m doing; I don’t want him to go; I don’t know how to kiss; maybe he wasn’t even kissing me and maybe that was some other kind of non-kissing mouth thing; maybe he’s going to be super pissed off; maybe he’s going to be so completely weirded out--but then Touya’s lips are moving against his and Touya’s holding his face in both his hands and this is definitely a kiss, it has to be a kiss, because there’s no one else Hikaru could do this with, no one else in the world, and it has to be Touya, it has to.

Touya pulls back again, but this time he doesn’t go far; he presses his forehead to Hikaru’s and breathes deeply.

“Is this--” okay, Hikaru starts to ask, but then Touya’s kissing him again except this time his mouth is open a little bit and he can sort of kiss just one of Hikaru’s lips at once. Touya’s kissing his upper lip, and this way their mouths almost kind of fit together so that Hikaru’s kissing Touya’s lower lip. It’s kind of weird, unbalanced but almost interlocking, and he has only a moment to wonder if this is what French kissing is like before Touya reminds him about what’s missing with a swipe of his tongue along his lip.

Hikaru gasps in startlement. Touya’s tongue is touching him, is running along his lip, is--and then oh my God it’s in his mouth, Touya’s tongue is in his mouth and he’s got no idea what he’s supposed to do, if he’s supposed to stick his own tongue in Touya’s mouth at the same time or if they’re supposed to take turns.

He licks tentatively at Touya’s tongue, and when Touya licks him back, rubbing his tongue against his, it gives him the confirmation he needs to do it again, this time with confidence.

Touya breaks their kiss and lets go of his head and Hikaru guesses that means they’re done, maybe, so he lets go of Touya, too. All of a sudden he realizes his back is sore and his thighs are burning, aching from the effort of keeping himself in such an awkward position over the goban, and he settles back into seiza. With nothing to do with his hands he sets them on his thighs, balling them into fists when they threaten to shake.

He can’t say it. He’s not even sure what he could possibly say, what he could ask--

But there is one thing, one thing he wants more than anything, and as he gazes into the depths of Touya’s dragon eyes, he’s pretty sure Touya wants it too.

“Touya,” he says, at last breaking the silence of their laboured breathing with words. “I wanna do it again.”

“Please,” Touya breathes as if this is the beginning of some new game, and he sweeps away the board of their old with a careless shove, knocking the goban over onto its side, the stones of their joseki scattering across the tatami.

Hikaru closes the gap between them, leaning forward to press another openmouthed kiss to Touya’s mouth, but this time instead of holding him steady Touya’s hands are grabbing him by his unbuttoned overshirt, pulling him even further forward, too far. They fall together, Touya’s back hitting the tatami. Hikaru reaches out to catch himself with palms braced on either side of Touya’s head but Touya pulls him the rest of the way down, their bodies pressing together in the instant before their mouths do.

This time Hikaru is first; he doesn’t hesitate to open his mouth, to lick his tongue along Touya’s. He’s breathing hard, they both are, but now they’ve discovered that if they breathe through their noses then there’s no need to stop their kiss. Hikaru lets himself relax, leaning forward into their kiss and balancing himself by the forearm he braces on the floor above Touya’s head. Now he has a hand free with which he can draw his fingertips through the silken strands of Touya’s hair, to trace the outline of a graceful ear so rarely bared, to trail down the slender column of Touya’s neck, to dip lightly into the hollow of his collarbone.

His fingertips brush against the collar of Touya’s shirt, catching for a moment, and in that moment he imagines what it would be like if he took that step, if he tried to unbutton Touya’s shirt. Would Touya let him? Would Touya help? Would Touya push him away?

He knows what Touya looks like under his clothes, can remember from when they did that weekend go retreat at the resort last June and they’d lazed around the hot spring both evenings with Saeki-san and Ashiwara-san. Touya is slender, more slight than the fit of his tailoured suits and his customary layers might suggest, and pale, as if he’s never found occasion to go out in the sun.

Hikaru wants to paint him with colour, wants to kiss him until he’s panting and feverish, cheeks pinkened, neck flushed, ears reddened.

Touya’s hands are around him, sliding up his back and up to nest in his hair. The sensation of someone else’s fingernails scraping delicately across his scalp is just amazing; it’s a dozen times better, a hundred times better, than when he’s scrubbing his hair in the shower and Hikaru never would have guessed before now that something like this could make his spine tingle and his toes curl.

Between Touya’s mouth and his hands and the body he’s pressing up against Hikaru’s it’s way too much for Hikaru’s self-control to take, and the low, roiling burn of his desire can no longer be denied. Hikaru can feel his cock start to stir, and given that there is all of absolutely no space between the two of them, Touya is going to totally find out in about three seconds.

Hikaru pulls back, heart pounding in embarrassment. He really, really doesn’t want Touya to freak out, or think he’s freaking out--and he’s not freaking out, at least not about anything Touya has to worry about, and he wants to do this again, really wants to do this again, but he’s pretty sure popping a boner the first time they make out is a faux pas or something and probably won’t incline Touya towards inviting him a second time.

Touya’s eyelashes flutter before he opens his eyes, half-lidded and dark. “Shindou,” he says, voice hoarse. “Don’t stop,” he says, reaching up and grabbing him by his t-shirt, pulling him down, and Hikaru’s brain shorts out as their bodies align and before he can pull back again Touya’s arms are around him to embrace him tightly and Touya’s open mouth is on his again, pressing his tongue into Hikaru’s mouth, hot and slick and insistent.

He doesn’t want to stop, really, really doesn’t want to stop; Touya’s body is warm and comfortable and fits against his perfectly and every instinct Hikaru has is telling him to stay. But he knows that if he doesn’t stop now he’ll never be able to so he has to stop, has to pull away, has to do it now before Touya realizes just what exactly it is that’s poking up against his hip.

Touya’s shifting underneath him, and Hikaru has just enough time to wonder if Touya knows anyway and now things are going to get super awkward before Touya’s thigh slides between Hikaru’s legs and rubs right up against Hikaru’s hard-on and oh, oh, oh, Hikaru’s moaning, he’s moaning out loud right into Touya’s mouth and he can’t even bring himself to care because it feels so, so good.

Hikaru doesn’t know what to do, what he can do, what’s safe, but it’s okay because Touya’s hands are on his waist, Touya’s got him, Touya’s holding him. But then Touya’s thigh rubs against Hikaru’s cock again almost like it was on purpose, and it’s not until Touya breaks their kiss to whisper “Is it okay? Do you like it?” that Hikaru realizes oh my God, it is on purpose, it’s totally on purpose, and he gives in with a sob and rocks himself against Touya.

“Shindou,” Touya murmurs, spit-slick lips brushing against Hikaru’s ear. “Tell me. Is it--is it okay?” His words are breathy, lifting up at the end into a question absent all of his usually formidable surety, and it’s the opening presented by his faint hesitation that allows Hikaru the daring to take action.

“Yeah,” Hikaru admits, drawing his free hand down Touya’s side. “Yeah, it’s amazing, totally amazing--”

“Good,” Touya says, lips closing around Hikaru’s earlobe in a kiss, worrying it delicately with his teeth.

The best part, the absolute best part, is not the teeth at his ear or the hands at his waist or even the friction in his jeans but that as Hikaru’s rocking into Touya, Touya’s rocking back, and that Hikaru is pretty sure the growing hardness he can feel throbbing against his own thigh is evidence that Touya thinks this is pretty okay, too.

A thought strikes him with such force that, lightheaded as he already is, it steals all the breath from his lungs and he can only pant to get it back. “Touya,” he begins, biting his lip. “Touya, I want to--” and he can’t even finish because he could stay here for hours and days and years on end telling Touya of every last thing he wants to do now that he maybe could be allowed.

“Yes,” Touya says, equal parts gasp and growl. “Yes, anything--”

“Can I...” Hikaru trails off, and slides the hand he has on Touya’s side just a little bit further down to rest on his hip. “Can I touch you?”

“Oh, God, please,” Touya moans, abruptly letting go of Hikaru’s waist so he can grab Hikaru’s hand and slide it, oh God, right on the bulge in Touya’s slacks and Touya’s got a hard-on, he’s totally got a hard-on, and Hikaru can’t ever remember feeling this deliriously happy.

Hikaru can’t really jerk him properly through his trousers but he can rub with his hand, can stroke with his fingers and thumb, and it must be okay because Touya is moaning, he’s moaning Hikaru’s name, and then he bites down hard on Hikaru’s neck.

“Touya!” Hikaru gasps; his mind is so fogged with arousal that he can’t even tell if the bite hurt or not but it doesn’t matter because then Touya’s teeth are gone and replaced with his tongue laving the marks indented in Hikaru’s neck. “Oh, Touya--” Touya’s hands slide in the back pockets of Hikaru’s jeans and Touya squeezes his ass hard, pulling him down as Touya grinds upwards. Touya’s lips are on his neck and he’s biting, licking, sucking.

He wants to come. Hikaru wants to come, can feel it building up inside of him, and they have to stop, have to stop right now, because if they don’t stop then Hikaru is going to come in his jeans.

“Touya,” Hikaru gasps, arching his hips away from Touya’s body. “Touya, wait, wait; I can’t--” he tries but Touya’s still got his hands in Hikaru’s pockets and uses his leverage to try and pull their bodies back together.

“You can,” Touya says, leaning up so he can keep kissing Hikaru’s throat. “You can, it’s okay, everything’s okay--”

“I can’t,” Hikaru repeats, bracing his hands on the floor on either side of Touya’s head so he can try and hold himself up separate.

He nearly sighs with relief when Touya pulls his hands out of Hikaru’s pockets. “Shindou,” Touya murmurs, reaching up to tilt Hikaru’s chin to position him just-so for Touya to lean up and press a kiss on his mouth. It’s slow and surprisingly sweet, light enough that it won’t put any additional stress on Hikaru’s self-control.

And then Hikaru feels the hands at his fly.

“Oh my God,” he gasps, eyes shut tight, arms trembling with the effort of keeping himself suspended and still. “Touya, Touya, you can’t--”

“I want to,” Touya says. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hikaru can’t open his eyes, can’t make eye contact with him, can’t say anything.

Touya kisses him again, this time openmouthed. Hikaru replies with a kiss of his own, and as Hikaru slides his tongue along Touya’s lip Touya draws Hikaru’s zipper down, his movements deliberate, giving Hikaru enough time to grab his wrist and stop him if he wanted.

Hikaru doesn’t.

Hikaru moans into his mouth as Touya reaches into the fly of his jeans, slipping his hand through the fly of his briefs. He doesn’t know what feels better: the satisfaction of Touya’s hand squeezing him and gripping him at last, or that Touya frees his aching cock from the very tight confines of his jeans.

“Are you close?” Touya asks, breaking their kiss. He gives Hikaru a long, slow pump, fingertips gliding over the head of Hikaru’s cock.

He’s too embarrassed to say it, he’ll die if he says it, so Hikaru kisses him instead, hard and wet and deep. Touya tries to wrest control of their kiss by shoving his tongue as far into Hikaru’s mouth as he can but now Hikaru knows that if he does the same that he can take him, can push him back, can make him yield, though his triumph is short-lived when Touya gives his cock another firm stroke and makes him moan.

Touya pulls back, punctuating their kiss with a quick, tiny kiss of his own. “Shall I take that as a yes?”

Hikaru bites his lip hard.

“I want you to be,” Touya murmurs, and it’s so shocking that Hikaru’s eyes fly open and he’s gazing, staring, caught by Touya’s beautiful liquid eyes. “I want you to want this as much as I do. Tell me you want it.” Touya gives him another stroke, and then another, his pace exquisitely glacial.

Touya already knows; surely Touya can feel the jackhammering of his heartbeat through the throbbing of his pulse in his cock, and that knowledge that he’s only telling Touya what he already knows is enough to free his tongue. “I want it,” Hikaru says, and is instantly rewarded when Touya’s strokes quicken. “I--I want this, I want more--”

Touya hooks his leg up around Hikaru’s waist and pulls him back down against him; Touya’s grip around his cock tightens, and his other hand is in Hikaru’s hair. “Good,” Touya breathes, his voice hoarse. “I’ll give you more. I’ll give you anything you want. Just tell me, tell me what you want--”

“I want you to keep doing that,” Hikaru moans, rocking into Touya’s hand as Touya continues to rock against him, to stroke. “Please, keep touching me, just like that--”

“Anything,” Touya repeats, kissing along the line of Hikaru’s jaw back to his ear. “Anything, Shindou. Tell me what I need to do to make you come for me--” and the words are enough, the words are more than enough along with Touya’s hand and Touya’s body and the lifetime they’ve just spent kissing and stroking and touching and needing and all of it, all of it is enough, and Hikaru is sobbing, thrusting into the tight fist of Touya’s hand, shaking and shuddering and moaning and gasping and he’s coming, he’s coming with Touya’s hands on him and Touya’s mouth on his skin and Touya’s breath on his neck and Touya’s voice in his ear and he’s coming, over and over and over again, until Hikaru is utterly empty and he is entirely spent.

Hikaru doesn’t realize he’s passed out until he comes to with a start; it’s been only seconds, maybe, since one of Touya’s hands is still wrapped around his dick, the other is lightly running through his hair, and their bodies are still entwined. He realizes he’s letting Touya support his entire weight, and pushes himself upwards--or at least he starts to, before he opens his eyes again and looks down, and is overcome with abject mortification.

“Um,” Hikaru starts, not exactly sure what the proper protocol is in this situation. “I’m, um. I’m sorry about your shirt,” he blurts, pulling himself up on his heels so he can sit crosslegged on the floor.

Touya opens his eyes, drawing himself up into a sitting position, legs spread. He looks down at his dark blue Oxford shirt, and if Hikaru wasn’t already flushed from their exertions he knows he would be flushing with embarrassment right now. Touya’s a mess, his hair everywhere, his cheeks flushed with colour, his lips swollen and reddened, but the most depraved sign of their activities is Touya’s shirt, which is marked with long streaks of come, some spots dark from where it’s seeped in or been smeared into the fabric, other places still thick and white and viscous.

Touya raises his gaze to meet Hikaru’s, and his mouth curves into what could only be called a smirk for just long enough for Hikaru to catch it before Touya’s expression smooths into something a little softer. “It’s fine,” he says. “Besides, yours didn’t fare much better,” he says, drawing his gaze down across Hikaru and then back up, offering him another small smile before he begins to unbutton his shirt. “You should take it off.”

The dampness on the front of Hikaru’s t-shirt barely registers as he watches Touya’s nimble fingers manipulate the buttons on his own shirt, untucking it so he can get the last two buttons before sliding it off his shoulders, folding it upon itself so that its mess is contained.

Hikaru follows suit, shrugging out of his unbuttoned overshirt and setting it aside, then gingerly peeling out of his t-shirt as carefully as he can, trying not to let the front of his shirt touch his face or hair as he pulls it over his head. Next he reaches down and tucks himself back into his underwear, adjusting himself to a comfortable position before zipping his fly back up.

It’s kind of surreal sitting in Touya’s bedroom with both of them naked from the waist up, knowing that only minutes ago they were... doing stuff. Already it seems like some kind of crazy dream--though definitely of the kind that leave him with sticky sheets and the need to sneak a load of laundry past his mother.

“Um,” Hikaru says, because he was going to say something, was pretty sure he was going to say something, except now he’s staring at Touya’s naked chest and oh God how has he not noticed until now the thin, dark line of hair trailing down from Touya’s navel down under the waistband of his trousers; it’s like a map, or an invitation, maybe, and he really wants to follow it down and explore what’s hidden underneath Touya’s slacks, and maybe--

--Maybe if he asks, Touya will let him.

He takes a deep breath. “Touya,” he says, raising his gaze to meet Touya’s. “Your turn,” he says, rising up on his knees to lean in and kiss him once more.

This time Hikaru doesn’t close his eyes, and even this close up he can see that Touya doesn’t, either. Neither of them are closing their eyes, and Touya, Touya’s eyes are open, Touya’s watching him, Touya knows Hikaru’s the one kissing him, Touya can’t possibly pretend Hikaru is anyone else.

Lightly Hikaru sets his hands on Touya’s bare chest. Touya’s breathing shudders as Hikaru draws his hands down slowly, fingertips skating across the nubs of Touya’s nipples, down his torso.

“Hey, Touya, um...” he starts, hesitating for only a moment before he finishes his proposal with his hand, cupping Touya between his legs, rubbing his palm against the bulge of Touya’s erection.

Touya makes a happy noise that’s not quite a moan but definitely isn’t words, either, arching up into the touch.

“I want to... I want to do it back. I want to touch you,” Hikaru says, and he is, he’s touching him right now, he’s stroking Touya through his slacks and it feels so good, amazing, incredible, and Touya is letting him, Touya is letting him touch him, and Touya is probably going to let him take his pants off, and the idea sends all conscious thought skittering to a halt.

“Please,” Touya says, his voice hoarse and raw and it’s awesome that Hikaru can make Touya sound like this, it’s totally awesome. “Please, I want it too--”

“Hey, um, Touya,” Hikaru starts, his own voice raw even in his own ears. “Can I--is it all right if I--I want to--”

“Please,” Touya whispers. “Please, please--”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Hikaru admits, ducking his gaze down to Touya’s belt so he can fumble with the buckle and not have to make eye contact. “So, um, just tell me if I do something stupid, or if I’m not doing something and I should be, or, I mean, um...” he trails off. “Just tell me, okay?”

Touya’s voice is soft. “Okay.”

With Touya’s belt unbuckled, Hikaru can now see the two buttons atop of Touya’s fly keeping his trousers closed. His breathing pounds in his ears as he tries to manipulate them open but the buttons are tiny and stubborn, and his fingers just feel clumsy and oversized, and there’s barely any give at all left in the fabric since it’s pulled taut over the bulge of Touya’s erection. It’s almost as much of a pain as trying to play go on a travel-sized set with stones the size of his pinky nail--and it’s fine, it’s all fine, Hikaru can handle those, and he can handle these. The thought is sharp and bright and clear in Hikaru’s mind, and like magic his hands stop shaking and he slides the buttons free from the buttonholes.

Hikaru draws down Touya’s zipper. Underneath his trousers Touya is wearing navy boxer-briefs, the cotton stretched tight and leaving very little to Hikaru’s imagination. Tentatively he grazes his fingertips along the curve of Touya’s cock, the cotton so thin that he can trace along the ridge of his corona, and tries to figure out what’s next.

“Did you want to take these off, or did you wanna leave them on?” Hikaru asks. It would probably be easier if he takes them off, but Touya didn’t bother taking Hikaru’s off, so maybe he shouldn’t. But they’re kind of in a taking-off-clothes mood since they’ve taken off their shirts, and Touya is already pretty much halfway to naked so they might as well go all the way, right? “Hey, um,” he starts again, breath in his throat, “how ‘bout I take them off? Okay?”

“Okay,” Touya agrees, voice hoarse.

As Hikaru takes hold of the open waist of Touya’s slacks Touya leans back on the hands he has on the tatami to prop himself upright and raise his hips, giving Hikaru clearance to pull Touya’s trousers down his thighs, then all the way off. Hikaru tosses Touya’s slacks off somewhere out of their way, and is about to lean back in when his eyes alight on Touya’s socks. For a moment he considers leaving them on, but if he takes them off now then when he takes off Touya’s underwear the Touya will be entirely naked, and if someone had told him when he woke up this morning just how much he was going to want to see Touya naked tonight he absolutely would have never believed it.

He takes Touya’s right foot, holding him firmly in place with one hand while he peels off Touya’s sock with the other. He means to set it down, but when his thumb slides against the soft, curving arch of Touya’s foot, Touya’s head falls backwards and he makes the most appealing dreamy, breathy sigh Hikaru’s ever heard in his life.

Gently, Hikaru strokes him again.

The response is immediate: Touya’s body arches upwards as his head tilts backwards, his eyes closing and his mouth falling open.”Oh--” he gasps.

Hikaru’s not sure why this is suddenly more embarrassing than anything else they’ve done tonight, but he feels that heat rising in his cheeks regardless. He sets Touya’s foot down and then picks up the other, divesting it of its sock as well. In the interest of fairness he gives Touya’s left foot a squeeze, and the hum of contentment Touya makes tells Hikaru that this is definitely something they are going to have to revisit.

Maybe just not when Touya’s sitting legs-spread in only a pair of well-filled-out boxer-briefs.

He lets his hands rest on Touya’s calves before he slides them up Touya’s legs as he leans in closer. He slips his thumbs under where the cotton of Touya’s underwear begins, rubbing in little half-circles against Touya’s thighs. Touya’s breathing stutters, and Hikaru has to bite back a happy grin of satisfaction as he pulls his hands back to set them on Touya’s hips, fingers at Touya’s waistband.

“Hey,” he says, making sure Touya’s eyes are on his before he continues. “This is okay, right?” he asks, sliding just his fingertips under the waistband.

Touya bites his lower lip for the briefest of moments before responding. “Yes, absolutely, yes,” he says, wide-eyed and lucid.

“Okay,” Hikaru says, taking a deep breath before he draws Touya’s underwear down, taking care not to get caught up on Touya’s erection.

Which, oh my God, is amazing, which is unlike anything he’s imagined--which, granted, hasn’t been very much or very often until about half an hour ago. Touya’s cock is maybe a little shorter than his own but is definitely thicker, curving upwards towards his belly. His balls ride high, tight against his body, but it might just be because he’s aroused because Hikaru knows his own body totally does that, too. His pubic hair is way shorter than Hikaru’s own patch of long curls; Touya is tidy and neat, his balls completely smooth and free from hair, and Hikaru has to wonder how on earth anyone could possibly be this perfect.

He reaches forward and grasps Touya’s cock, grasping him firmly in hand.

Looking was one thing. Touching is another thing entirely. “Oh my God,” Hikaru says without thinking, the words out of his mouth before he can even think to speak them. “You’re--” he starts before he can catch himself.

“What?” Touya asks, his voice hoarse and breathless, and there’s a hint of worry in his voice that Hikaru can’t possibly understand and that he’s going to have to banish at his earliest opportunity.

“Just, um,” Hikaru says, not sure if it’s polite or rude or what, so maybe he should try to contain himself. “Wow.” He punctuates his remark with a stroke of Touya’s absolutely gorgeous cock, and in addition to a full-throated moan, Hikaru also elicits a large bead of pre-come.

“Just, um. Tell me if I do something wrong,” Hikaru says, and succumbs to the impulse to lean forward and lick the tip of Touya’s cock.

“Oh, oh--” Touya breathes. “Please, please....” Hands nest in Hikaru’s hair. “Shindou, please--”

Hikaru licks him again, the saltiness spreading over his tongue, mixing with a faint hint of muskiness that he thinks must be Touya’s natural scent.

Touya’s hands are in his hair; Touya’s whispering his name. Touya likes this, likes what he’s doing, likes him. And it’s easy, surprisingly easy; he tightens his hand around the base of Touya’s cock, stroking with his hand at the same time as he licks the head and Touya squirms under him, the syllables of Hikaru’s name losing shape as Touya loses himself.

It doesn’t take long for Hikaru to get a handle on stroking and licking at the same time, so he pushes himself to make his licks a little longer, to suck at the same time. With each dip of his head he takes a little more, goes a little further, sucks a little harder, until the hands Touya has in his hair are fists, until his breaths are pants, until his entreaties have become formless moans. Hikaru bobs as he sucks, saliva slipping past the seal of his mouth to drip down his fingers, slicking Touya’s cock and letting his fist pump him faster and with greater urgency.

It’s good, doing this, stroking him, sucking him, tasting him. Hikaru loves how strong and hard Touya’s cock is in his hand, loves the shape of him in his mouth, loves the taste of him against his tongue, loves how Touya’s fingernails are digging into his scalp, loves the sound of Touya’s moans filling the room. They’re not even done but he wants to do it again, to do it every day; he wants to see Touya like this, to be the one who has made his control break into countless glittering shards.

“Shindou--” Touya gasps. “I’m close--”

And oh yes, yes yes; this is perfect, it’s so perfect; Touya’s going to come, he’s going to come because of Hikaru, and with his eyes shut tight Hikaru focuses all of his being on redoubling the efforts of his hand and mouth and tongue.

“I’m going to--I’m going to--oh, Shindou, I’m going to come,” Touya moans and then he does, hips jerking upwards as Hikaru’s mouth fills with salty jism. Touya’s hands on his head hold Hikaru in place as he bucks forward; the hand Hikaru has wrapped around the base of Touya’s cock keeps him from going deep enough to have to worry about choking so Hikaru can focus on breathing hard through his nose as Touya thrusts into his mouth again and again and again and again before finally releasing his grip on Hikaru’s head before shuddering and collapsing on his back, arms spread.

Hikaru swallows his mouthful of saliva and come. The taste isn’t that bad, a little salty but surprisingly not as much as he would have expected, though the texture is a lot thicker and more viscous than he would have imagined, especially watered down as it is with saliva. He wipes his face off on the back of his other hand, and after only a moment’s consideration he leans over and grabs his discarded t-shirt, wiping his hands off on a clean section.

Hikaru watches the heaving of Touya’s chest lessen and slow as his breathing regulates itself back to normal. Then Touya pulls himself back up into a sitting position, and when their eyes meet Hikaru finds himself wearing what’s probably the dumbest grin ever but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t even care at all.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in, and then Touya’s leaning in too, and just as Hikaru closes his eyes their mouths meet in a kiss. The kiss is delicate, a mere brushing of lips together before Hikaru takes the initiative and slips his tongue inside Touya’s mouth. Touya’s tongue strokes back, but only for a moment before he pulls away.

Touya’s expression is oddly guarded, and Hikaru has just enough time for his brain to wake up and consider panicking before Touya says, “Ah, I’m sorry about...” before trailing off.

Now is definitely time to panic. “Um?” he asks, placing his palms flat against his thighs.

“I just meant...” Touya begins, gaze lowering briefly before flicking back up to his. “Would you like a glass of water?” he asks.

“Huh?” Hikaru asks. “Nah, it’s fine, I’m not thirsty,” he says, answering the question at face value before any other possibilities can occur to him.

Maybe Touya just wants an excuse to leave.

Hikaru swallows hard; he’s not sure if he should say something like ‘hey, that was fun, we should do it again’ or ‘wait, don’t go anywhere’ or if that’s too desperate and he should have just agreed and let Touya leave.

“I, ah. I thought you might want to rinse your mouth,” Touya says delicately.

Hikaru cannot handle this sort of randomness right now; he’s pretty sure it’s making his blood pressure do very bad things. “What? Why? What do you--” and then it hits him and he knows exactly what Touya is talking about and oh God this should not be so embarrassing. “It’s fine!” Hikaru yelps. “It’s totally fine; you don’t have to get me anything.”

It’s a little hard to tell in the lighting, as the moonlight has sapped all but the most vibrant colours from the room, but there’s a faint blush that darkens Touya’s cheekbones. “Well, I’m going to get something for myself,” he says, leaning over and retrieving his underwear from where Hikaru had tossed them. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Touya gets to his feet, stepping into his underwear one foot at a time before straightening up as he pulls the boxer-briefs up. Touya looks over at Hikaru as he adjusts himself, and Hikaru can’t help but feel super guilty that he got caught watching.

“Um,” he says, because Touya looks expectant like he was waiting for a response, but it takes him a few moments to remember that Touya actually did ask him a question. “Oh, no, seriously, I’m good.”

“All right,” Touya says, bending over to pick up his pants before pulling them on, lithe fingers deftly working the zipper and buttons before rebuckling his belt. “I won’t be gone long,” he says, padding over to his closet and selecting a new dark shirt to shrug into, buttoning it but not bothering to tuck it in.

Hikaru watches Touya as he heads to the shoji, and can’t help himself when he blurts “Hey, Touya.”

Touya stops in place, turning around to meet his gaze once more. “Shindou,” he says quietly, his mouth curving with a gentle hint of a smile.

And now he has to pretend that he had something to say. Hikaru lets his gaze flicker over Touya, and relief rushes over him when he notices something he can point out. “Your hair. Um, it’s kind of...” he trails off.

“Oh!” Touya exclaims, reaching up and combing through his hair with the fingers of both hands. It doesn’t take long for him to corral the stray strands back into place but Touya spends a little longer, working fastidiously. “How’s this?” he asks. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Hikaru agrees. “You look...” he trails off, and he is gonna blush, he totally knows he’s gonna blush, but he can’t stop himself and he’s not sure he’d even want to. “Perfect.”

Touya’s gaze lowers, and the tiny smile that had disappeared when he fussed over his hair is back, though it disappears as Touya’s countenance smooths into something more sedate when he asks “Shindou, I was wondering if I could perhaps impose upon you for a favour?”

Hikaru straightens up. “Yeah, of course!”

“Would you mind setting up the futon for bed?” Touya asks, his voice smooth and dark and warming Hikaru down to the marrow of his bones.

Hikaru watches as Touya wets his lip, the tip of his tongue just barely visible, and he really can’t let his mind wander down the garden path because his dick is kind of feeling like it might be getting interested again and it would probably be really rude to get a boner when Touya’s just talking about going to bed.

“Just one is fine,” Touya says, and he is so beautiful and focused and utterly self-assured that Hikaru thinks his own heart must have stopped, just for a moment, just long enough for a twist of possibility and need to to twine its way through Hikaru’s veins and around his heart before it begins once more to beat.

“Unless you’d prefer otherwise?” Touya asks, his voice lilting up to make it a question, which is completely ridiculous because Hikaru cannot possibly think of a single reason why he would ever refuse.

Hikaru swallows to wet his suddenly-dry throat. “One is fine,” he says.

Touya bites his lip for just a moment before he flashes Hikaru a quick smile, brilliant with teeth, and then turns to open the shoji. “Okay. I’ll be right back,” he says, and when he closes the shoji behind him Hikaru is alone in the room.

Hikaru’s shoulders roll back as he falls out of the stiff pose he hadn’t even realized he was holding; he springs to his feet, rocking up onto the balls of his feet before falling back on his heels.

Touya. Him and Touya. And it is awesome, it is so incredibly awesome, and Hikaru is really, really looking forward to the next time they get to do this again.

Okay. Okay; Touya left him with a task to do so he’d better get to it. Hikaru rolls his neck lightly; he hadn’t realized he was working a crick into it until just now when it had decided to complain. Though if this is the payment for what they’ve done then he will pay it gratefully a hundred times or more.

Hikaru starts by picking up their abandoned shirts; he doesn’t really want to just throw them in the laundry hamper but he doesn’t really feel like washing them right now either so he cops out by tossing them next to the hamper but not in it. Touya’s socks can go in, though.

Next is the goban and its stones. Luckily they hadn’t gotten too far; they made it only seven stones into the game, though he does almost panic when he can’t find the last black stone. It turns out to be under the goban, which had ended up upside-down somehow, and he’s really hoping that the mark he can sort-of see on the surface is just shadows or his imagination playing tricks on him because if Touya notices then he’s going to be pissed. But it’s not even Hikaru’s fault and besides, Touya keeps bringing up how he means to get himself an everyday kaya board, so if this encourages him to go for it instead of continually putting it off then it’s actually for the best, right?

Hikaru is so going to have to work on this explanation before the subject comes up.

With the stones back in their goke Hikaru can pick up the goban and goke and tuck them back into Touya’s closet on their shelf. Now all he has to do is lay out the futon.

Hikaru pulls down the mattress. He’s not really sure how Touya usually lays it out but he probably won’t mind if it’s not perfect. And if he lays it out like this and then places the pillows on this side, then they have a perfect view out the window where the grounds are already dusted with brilliant, untrampled white.

Major decision made, it’s quick work to wrap the mattress with a sheet and then pull down the comforter, spreading it so it looks at least fairly even.

Lastly, Hikaru grabs the pillow from the closet. One pillow won’t be enough for both of them, so he should probably go and forage another from the guest closet.

He doesn’t realize he’s been clasping the pillow to himself with both hands until he tries to identify the vaguely familiar scent wafting up. Touya’s shampoo, he realizes, of course it is. It’s Touya’s pillow, so of course it would smell like him. He closes his eyes and hugs it tighter, breathing in the delicate scent of winter plum and letting it fill his senses.

All he can think about is being pressed up against Touya, Touya wrapped around him, kissing Touya’s mouth while Touya let him thrust into his hand--and he has to stop, absolutely has to stop thinking about this or he really is going to give himself an erection.

The shoji slides open, and Hikaru has only enough time to toss the pillow down over at the futon before Touya comes back in, a glass of water in each hand.

“I can--” Hikaru offers, but Touya’s able to slide the shoji closed behind himself with the few fingers he can spare from the glasses he’s holding. “Oh, okay. Um, hey, you’re back,” Hikaru says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

A stray lock of hair falls insouciantly out of place into Touya’s face. With his hands occupied Touya has to give his head a little flip to encourage it out of the way, and Hikaru kind of really, really, really wants to kiss him again.

“I brought you a drink just in case,” Touya says, offering Hikaru the full glass.

He’s still not really thirsty, but it’s nice of Touya to offer, especially since it was inconvenient for him to occupy both his hands, so he accepts. “Thanks,” he says, and takes a swig.

The water is crisp and cool and, surprisingly, actually really refreshing, and before he knows it he’s drunk half the glass. “Okay, maybe I was thirsty,” he admits, wiping off his mouth on the back of his hand. “Thanks again,” he says, stepping forward so he can place his glass on Touya’s desk. Touya follows suit, and now with all distractions out of the way Hikaru can’t think of a compelling reason not to kiss Touya so he does, rising up on the balls of his feet and leaning in to brush his lips against Touya’s. Touya’s mouth readily opens for his tongue and his mouth is soft and cold and sweet and Hikaru could kiss him for hours, for days, for ever.

Touya breaks the kiss, but he maintains the contact of their lips for seconds by murmuring “Shindou” directly against his mouth, then giving him one last soft kiss. “Would you like to go to bed?” he asks, brushing his fingertips lightly down Hikaru’s bare chest.

“Yes,” Hikaru breathes, and kisses him again.

***

Hikaru knows right away when he wakes up that he’s not in his own bed: the shikibuton under his back lacks the springs of his mattress, his pillow is too firm and has the scent of winter plum and not green apple, sunlight streams in from the wrong angle. Somehow his brain puts it all together into a single coherent thought: I’m in Touya’s bedroom.

Then he stretches out to work the kinks from his muscles, and as his bare skin slides against the soft warmth of the futon, he realizes I’m naked. Which isn’t exactly true; the slight discomfort of his morning wood trapped by his briefs makes it readily apparent that he’s wearing underwear, but it’s the only thing he’s wearing, and he might as well be naked, because he’s pretty sure he isn’t supposed to be in Touya’s bed in just--

Touya’s bed. He’s in Touya’s bed. And with that the last of the haze of sleep vanishes and he bolts upright, rapidly blinking his eyes back to readiness, and tries to confirm to himself the sequence of events that resulted in this.

They kissed last night. And then did a lot more than kiss. And then he fell asleep in Touya’s arms, and maybe when Touya gets back from wherever he is they can start it all over from the beginning. And he’s probably got to stop blushing when he thinks about this, or else Touya is going to hold it over him forever, but he figures anyone else in his position would do the same. Still, it’s kind of convenient that Touya’s off in the bathroom or grabbing something to eat or whatever, because now Hikaru will have just enough time to get ahold of himself.

Okay. He can do this. He can handle this. He can face Touya, and together they’ll figure out what this means, and then they’ll get to do it all again.

He should probably put some clothes on first, though.

Hikaru tosses the coverlet aside, getting to his feet and indulging in another stretch, hands clasped behind him as he arches his back until it aches. He swallows down another reflexive yawn as he looks around for wherever his clothes ended up last night. He spots them right away folded neatly into a pile on Touya’s desk. Getting to his feet and walking over, he’s about to pick up his shirt when he spots the note half-tucked in the breast pocket.

Shindou,, it reads,

I’ve left for the day; I have a game against Kato 4-dan, after which I’m headed to my Mandarin lessons.

I know you don’t have a game scheduled today, so I thought you might like to sleep in.

Please don’t worry about cleaning up; I will take care of it before my flight tomorrow.

I’m looking forward to talking with you later.

Touya Akira

He reads it twice, and then a third time.

Touya’s gone, he acknowledges. Touya left. Touya left him here alone with a note. A really, really stupid note that takes up half a sheet of paper and doesn’t say a single freaking thing, and never mentions last night at all.

Okay, so, fine. Touya’s not here. Hikaru woke up in Touya’s bed wearing only his underwear and Touya’s gone and Touya said nothing about it, so Hikaru’s got zero clue what he even thinks about all this.

Then again, Touya did say something. He said nothing. That pretty much tells Hikaru everything he needs to know about what Touya thinks about last night.

He crumples the note in his hand, tossing it into the wastebasket.

Swallowing hard, Hikaru pulls on his jeans, then his shirt, buttoning it up most of the way but leaving it untucked. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like anyone’s going to see him anyway.

Outside, he sees through the window, the sky is blue, the grass is green, and there isn’t any snow at all.

Hikaru knows there’s no one home. He knows the Touya residence is situated on ground large enough and lush enough not to have to worry about the neighbours. Still, after he’s done folding and stashing the futon and he leaves Touya’s bedroom he finds himself padding lightly through the house, his movements slow and quiet as he takes stock of the aftermath of the night before.

It’s actually not bad at all, which is kind of a huge relief. He’s surprised things are as reasonable as they are, all things considered. Though yeah, Waya can be kind of an overbearing dick, so maybe he jumped on a few people for Hikaru and kept them in line.

Urgh, he actually does owe Waya one.

The kitchen’s not bad, either. There are dirty dishes piled on nearly every flat surface but that’s fine, Touya’s family has a dishwasher. Hikaru starts his morning with dishes, filling up the dishwasher with glasses and plates, then the dish rack with dip bowls and larger, more awkward pieces. He’ll probably have to do another two loads, he guesses, but he can at least let the first load of dishes run while he gets on the rest of the chores.

Picking up the garbage around the house is easy; the cups and bottles make up the bulk of it, though there are some burnables in the form of food wrappers and things lying around as well.

Vacuuming turns out to be the biggest pain in the rear. He’s done dishes and has helped Touya take out the garbage, but he’s never had to vacuum here before. Even finding the vacuum takes him almost ten minutes--it turns out there’s a little closet tucked away in a kind of awkward spot by the laundry room--and then the worst part of it all is the fact that Touya’s house is so ancient that there are barely any outlets, so to go over all the rooms they used and down the hallways takes a bit of finagling.

Vacuuming takes forever, but it works out okay because by the time he’s done and has the vacuum tucked back away he can hear that the dishwasher’s finished its cycle. The dishes are still a little wet but it doesn’t take any time at all to dry them quickly on a towel as he puts them away. He isn’t able to get all of the rest of the waiting dishes in the dishwasher, but the overflow just barely fits on the drying rack, so there’s one more task accomplished.

Now all he has to do is leave.

Hikaru’s sweaty from his exertions, and given that it’s been just over twenty-four hours since his last shower, he’s definitely feeling it.

No one’s home. There’s no one here. No one’s going to get annoyed if he grabs a quick shower.

He doesn’t know why he feels so guilty.

He’ll be quick. He’ll be quick, and then he’ll leave, and then there won’t be any sign he was ever here at all.

Hikaru’s fingers toy with the top buttons of his shirt as he walks to the bathroom but even with the house completely empty it feels like it would be wrong somehow to strip down in the halls, sacrilegious in such a reserved, traditional estate.

When Hikaru enters the bathroom, his eyes are drawn past the warm tones of the light wood and tiles to a splash of vibrant dark navy.

It’s Touya’s shirt, he realizes. Touya’s shirt is hanging in the bathroom. And it feels like such a random occurrence that all he can do is stand and stare at it, and it’s not until he notices that it’s still damp that the reason for its existence here reveals itself to him.

It’s simple. Touya’s shirt is in here because Touya hand-washed it this morning because Hikaru came all over it last night.

He knows he’s not supposed to think about it but he can’t help it. He thinks about Touya’s mouth so slick and hot, about Touya’s body pressed close to his, about Touya’s hand wrapped around his cock. He thinks about Touya standing in the garden, eyes towards the stars a hundred light-years away. He thinks about Touya leaning over and snapping a stone against the board--and this is it, the thought he cannot ever have.

All they are is their go, and if Hikaru allows this to taint that, then they have nothing left at all.

He knows he’s supposed to regret it. He wants to regret it. If he regrets it then it’ll be easier to do what Touya’s done, to shove this in a box and not think of it, but it’s impossible.

Last night, he kissed Touya Akira. Of all the things they’ve done, that is the one thing he won’t ever forget.

He can’t look at it anymore. Hikaru takes the shirt and hanger and hooks it over the doorknob, getting it out of his immediate line of sight.

Only now does he realize how badly his hands are shaking.

Well, fine. Maybe he can’t forget.

Maybe Touya can’t forget, either. Maybe that’s why he’s being so circumspect. Maybe all Hikaru has to do is remind him. Because last night happened, and it was pretty frigging awesome, and he knows Touya thought so too, Touya told him so with his words and his mouth and his hands and his body, at least in the heat of the moment.

Then that’s what Hikaru will do. He’ll remind him. Because he knows Touya, knows them, and if Hikaru is aching this desperately then so must Touya, because he has to, because every step forward they’ve taken together, and there’s no one else with whom Hikaru would rather run.

Hikaru moves with new surety, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the floor by the sink, his slacks, underwear, and socks following suit.

Then he catches sight of himself in the mirror.

Touya didn’t write of last night in the note. He didn’t have to. He’s written it all over Hikaru’s neck in a constellation that speaks as clearly as any he might make on the board, only instead of in stones of white and black Touya has played his hands in a winding trail of wine-dark kiss-marks, and maybe this is tsumego and all Hikaru has to do is find the kyuusho that will mean his life or death.

***

‘I’m looking forward to talking with you later’. It’s one of the only lines Hikaru can remember word for word from the note and he still doesn’t know what it means. It has to be either a euphemism or a portent of a totally uncomfortable conversation wherein Touya tells him how much he treasures his friendship and enjoys the challenge of his go but they are definitely not going to be on naked terms ever again. Hikaru’s really pulling for euphemism, but the only way he’s going to find out is to talk to Touya, so of course of course that doesn’t happen. When he gets home from Touya’s, he flops down on his bed and passes out almost immediately, sleeping well into the afternoon. He doesn’t wake until his mom knocks on his door with a dinner tray, and when he checks his phone he sees it’s already six-thirty and Touya’ll be right in the thick of his language lesson, so he really shouldn’t call.

He buries his phone in the bottom of his backpack and tosses it in his closet, and he doesn’t look at it for the rest of the night.

But that’s fine, it’s totally fine, because it’s not like they aren’t going to see each other tomorrow at the Ki’in and head over to the salon for games. Except then they actually won’t, Hikaru doesn’t realize until he’s stashing his shoes in the cubby at the Ki’in. Touya isn’t coming, because this afternoon he’s flying off to Shanghai for the Nine Stars Of The Nine Stars invitational, and he’s going to be gone through next Monday.

When Hikaru gets home he has half of an idea to maybe call Touya, but then it occurs to him that Touya is probably still in the air, or en route to the hotel, or getting settled in, or some sort of something that would inconvenience him if Hikaru should interrupt, so he doesn’t.

Other than his shidougo appointments at four and six o’clock, Hikaru has nothing with which to occupy his Friday. He and Waya had talked awhile back about maybe him going over to Waya’s place to watch the Nine Stars online since Waya has it figured out so he can just go to a website and see the matches on his computer but Waya doesn’t answer his phone and doesn’t respond to any of Hikaru’s texts, including the three he sent right after Waya sent him a move in Go On The Go so Hikaru knew Waya totally had his phone in hand and is ignoring him.

It’s annoying, but whatever. Maybe Waya’s kind of pissed that Hikaru bailed on him the other night at the party and asked him to keep an eye out to boot, but he’ll see Waya at his study group on Saturday so he’ll just hit him up for kifu then, which is why on Saturday that is exactly what Hikaru does.

“Dude, you are such a jerk,” Hikaru complains to Waya as Waya rips open the cardboard box to a new set of twelve cans of Pepsi to shove in the back of his fridge, which is already stuffed with all kinds of bottles, cans, and take-out containers.

“Don’t you even frigging start with me, Shindou,” Waya snaps, which Hikaru thinks is a pretty disproportionate reaction given that their conversation started not even ten seconds ago, and he is definitely not going to help Waya carry anything out to the washitsu. “But, okay, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what your problem is this time, because I’m sure I care.”

“What did I do?” Hikaru demands, irritation spiking the pitch of his voice. “You can’t just go off on me for no reason--”

“You’re the one who called me a jerk!” Waya yells.

“Hey--” Hikaru starts, indignant, except okay, maybe he kind of does have a point, so he accepts the already-chilled two-litres of soda that Waya shoves in his direction. “I didn’t mean it like that. It was, like, emphasis or something?”

“Uh huh,” Waya says flatly, straightening up and closing the fridge. “Okay, dickbag. What’s the deal?”

“The deal’s that you said we were gonna hang out yesterday, and then you went all ninja stealth mode on me,” Hikaru says.

“Oh,” Waya says, tearing open a bag of chips and pouring it into one of the two large serving bowls he has pulled out. “Oh! Yeah, sorry; yesterday was nuts. I’d sort of promised Isumi’s little brothers that we’d watch his games and I’d try to explain what was going on and it took forever, so I was pretty wiped.”

“Aha, gotcha,” Hikaru says, and his gut is stabbed through with a sharp pang of guilt at being reminded that Touya’s not the only one in Shanghai representing Japan; Isumi is too, along with that Fukushima guy from the Kansai Ki’in, and Hikaru really needs to start paying more attention. “Okay, no worries; I was just kind of wondering what was up.”

“Nah, I totally bailed on you. Sorry, man,” Waya apologizes, crumpling the now-empty chip bag before he tosses it in the bin.

Hikaru shrugs. “It’s cool; I get it. His brothers don’t play at all, right? Explaining the games to them must have been such a pain in the ass; that’s it’s own punishment,” he teases.

Waya rolls his eyes hard. “Yeah, no freaking kidding. But dude, it gets worse: Genji just joined his school go club so he was trying to interpret the game for Kazuo, which made it super awkward trying not to stomp all over his enthusiasm when he just went off the rails. It’s pretty cute, though, I gotta admit,” he says. “Isumi’s parents are... okay, don’t tell him I said this, but they’re kind of assholes. I’m glad he’s got his brothers on his side, at least.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Hikaru says. It’s not really something Isumi’s talked to him about, but it wasn’t hard to draw that conclusion himself the day they moved Isumi out of his parents’ home and into the place he’s currently sharing with Waya. Isumi’s mom had sat stonily on the couch watching like a hawk as the group of them had worked to carry out Isumi’s furniture and boxes; it had almost felt like she was trying to make sure they didn’t steal anything. Isumi’s dad hadn’t said anything until they were ready to leave, and then all he’d done was ask Isumi for his keys.

And now it totally feels awkward in here again. “Hey, um, speaking of which, you’re gonna get me the kifu for the Nine Stars games, right?” Hikaru asks, desperate to change the subject.

“Ahh, crap,” Waya swears, “I totally forgot about that. Yeah, sorry, I’ll get on it. My printer’s decided to take a huge dump, so I’ll need to print them out at the Ki’in. I’ll bring ‘em to Morishita-sensei’s study session on Tuesday, is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s awesome. Thanks a lot,” Hikaru says sincerely. “Hey, we’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Waya says. “Hey, I was thinking we could make it a thing, ask the guys tonight and see if people are interested in doing a group watch tomorrow. Both Isumi and Touya are undefeated so far, so Japan should have at least one representative in the final. You down?”

“Hell yeah!” Hikaru agrees. “Let’s do this thing!”

***

Sunday turns out to be awesome. Waya is some kind of technical genius, and has somehow hooked up his computer to his TV so they can watch the livestream on his gigantic screen. It’s a little bit fuzzy, but more than clear enough to follow the game.

Honda and Komiya have each brought cases of beer, which means that split between the four of them--five when Nase arrives just after lunch, straight from her shidougo appointment--they are having a totally awesome time.

Isumi was knocked out in the semi-finals this morning against China’s Xú Jié, which sucks, but it turns out that yesterday he stomped Korea’s Ko Yeongha by four and a half moku, which means that Hikaru is pretty much legally obligated to throw him a parade the moment he steps back on home soil, so Isumi has acquitted himself well.

Besides, if it was Touya versus Isumi in the finals then it would be pretty awkward to be sitting here in Isumi’s living room secretly hoping for him to--well, it’s not that he wants Isumi to lose, he just...

Kind of wants Touya to win.

The epic showdown that is the culmination of three days of challenges amongst nine of Asia’s brightest-burning stars of the under-25 go world is between Touya Akira of the Nihon Ki’in and Xú Jié of the Chinese Weiqi Association. Hikaru doesn’t recognize the other guy, who just seems like some random 3-dan who showed up out of nowhere one day, but according to Waya he’s been steamrolling the cups and invitationals in China, and that this is just his first appearance on the world stage. Hikaru would never, ever, ever say that money is the reason why he plays go, but he can maybe, kind of, sort of admit that the low purses in the Chinese competitions are one of the reasons why he doesn’t worry too hard about entering them.

And that’s probably why he missed getting an invite to this competition. Not because of the long string of forfeits after he first made shodan that still skews his lifetime win-loss ratio when compared to other strong, consistent players like Isumi, but because he declined the invitations and opportunities to enter those competitions where the prize money wouldn’t even have covered his airfare and hotel, and now karma has decided it would be really hilarious for there to be a competition with a prize worth the equivalent of almost ten million yen that has no interest in him at all.

Which, okay, sort of sucks, but at least Touya is there to represent Japan and prove to the world that the Nihon Ki’in isn’t to be dismissed as a force in go and Touya can totally cream this total nobody, a sentiment Hikaru repeats with increasing volume periodically throughout the match until Waya smacks him on the back of the head and tells him to shut his mouth, which naturally leads to Hikaru punching him on the arm and telling him not to boss him around, and then Waya tackles him and has him pinned while Nase cheers and Komiya makes concerned noises and Hikaru accidentally kicks over the goban they’d been using for variations and then Honda whoops and Hikaru and Waya turn in unison to look at the TV and holy shit, Xú’s head is bowed over the board and Touya’s won, Touya’s won the whole thing, and it’s awesome, it’s so awesome, it’s super amazingly awesome, and he’s talking out loud again because Waya claps a hand over his mouth and tells him to shove it.

***

By the time nine o’clock rolls around on Wednesday, Hikaru is staring at his phone trying to think of legitimate reasons not to call Touya when the phone bursts into shrill, cheerful jingling, vibrating so hard it falls off his bedside table.

Cursing under his breath, Hikaru throws himself down on the bed and sticks his arm down in the gap between bed and table, stretching and waggling his fingers, trying to find wherever it’s bounced. He does, and manages to answer it before it hits voicemail. “Hello?” His voice is breathless and anxious even to his own ears, and he really, really hopes it’s not as obvious as he thinks it is.

“Shindou,” Touya says, and just the sound of his voice is enough to send Hikaru’s heart pounding so hard he can almost feel his ribcage rattling. “Good evening.”

“Touya,” he says, cradling the phone to his ear as he rolls onto his back. “Hey.”

“How are you?” Touya inquires. His diction is poised, polite, perfect--as if there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be, as if nothing’s happened.

But Hikaru can close his eyes and remember the feel of Touya’s lips on his, the taste of his skin, the sound of his breath hitching in his throat as Hikaru touched him. Friday happened, he is sure. Those stones were placed, and no matter how he and Touya play their next hands there won’t be any way to deny what they’ve done.

“Shindou?” Touya prompts, and Hikaru realizes that he’s been asked a question.

“Fine,” he says, and it sounds so lame that he appends quickly, “great, I’m great. Everything’s great. Hey, um, yeah, speaking of great, congrats about the invitational. I saw your game against Xú Jié; it was frigging amazing. We went over it a bit when we were watching but I haven’t really had a chance to study it in depth because Waya’s being a dick but yeah, you definitely need to go over it with me,” he says.

“I’m not sure I understand what Waya has to do with it,” Touya says delicately.

Hikaru rolls his eyes. “He keeps promising he’ll get me kifu for stuff but then he never remembers and I always have to ask him a million times and now I have to bug him again.”

“I have the kifu downloaded from World Igo Daily; I can send it to your phone if you’d like to play through it,” Touya offers. “Or if you like, I can simply show you tomorrow.”

Hikaru’s not really sure why silence hangs between them. Touya’s asked him a question, sure, but it’s one normally rhetorical: at any other time Hikaru would simply say ‘yeah, sure, of course’, because it’s Thursday, and going over games is what they always do on Thursday.

He should say yes. Maybe things have happened between them but they’re still them. The important things haven’t changed. After all, Touya’s assumed that things are just going to go on the way they always have.

“Yeah,” Hikaru says, licking his suddenly too-dry lips. “I’d like that.”

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say, or maybe he didn’t say it right, because Touya’s still quiet and oh God, they’ve been talking for less than a minute and already things have gotten really complicated. “I mean, like,” Hikaru starts, trying to find the words. “Not like--I mean, you know what I mean.” And he’s so, so grateful to be having this conversation over the phone and not in person because he can feel his cheeks begin to burn and the room feels five degrees hotter all of a sudden and he instinctively begins to unbutton his overshirt before he realizes that oh my God, he’s undressing while talking to Touya, and the inappropriateness of it all hits him all at once and he wishes he could just toss the phone in the corner and hide under his blankets for a month until Touya forgets any of this ever happened.

“Touya?” he asks softly. “Are you still there?”

“Yes,” Touya says, though he sounds subdued. “I’m just not certain that I understand what you were attempting to say.”

And yeah, so maybe Hikaru deserves that, but it’s totally not his fault. “Forget it,” he says, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Shindou,” Touya says, and it’s like a sort of conversational reset; Hikaru can imagine Touya straightening his posture, sharpening his gaze. “I called to see if you would care to have dinner with me tomorrow before we settle in at the salon.”

The needlessness of Touya’s question startles Hikaru; on Thursdays they pretty much always grab something to eat on the way to the salon from the Ki’in, though calling it ‘dinner’ is a bit grand for what’s essentially a four o’clock fast-food snack. There’s no need for Touya to confirm it. “Yeah, of course, like always,” he says.

“There’s a place a few blocks away from the salon that I’ve been meaning to visit since it opened six months ago; I thought perhaps we might go there at five-thirty,” Touya says, words precise and crisp. “Fujihana.”

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great,” Hikaru says. “Sorry, I don’t recognize that one; where is it?”

“Block 18, building 12,” Touya says. “It’s off on the side-street next to the bookstore; I can meet you at the station, if you like.”

“Sweet,” Hikaru says.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Touya says. “I’ll look forward to it.” And it’s harmless; Touya uses that phrase all the time, but now every time Hikaru hears it he’s going to think of the note Touya left him and he’s really wishing he had taken it with him instead of leaving it on the desk because maybe if he could only reread it over and over again he’d be sure to find whatever the secret message is supposed to be.

Hey, Touya, Hikaru doesn’t say. We kissed, right?

“Yeah,” he says instead. “Me too.”

“Good,” Touya says, his voice so soft that Hikaru almost doesn’t catch the word. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good luck against Kondo-pro.”

Hikaru’s brain can’t change tracks fast enough for that to be anything other than a non-sequitur; “Huh?” he blurts before he remembers Thursday means that before games, before dinner, there’s a ranked match. Tomorrow is Kondo Takeshi 5-dan, 28 years old, who plays with a heavy focus on defence and an almost impenetrably mechanical yose. “I mean, thanks.”

“Shindou?” Touya says, his rising intonation turning his name into a question.

It’s suddenly hard to breathe, so Hikaru doesn’t. “Touya?”

Touya doesn’t say anything, and Hikaru’s pretty sure his voice didn’t break or crack and wasn’t too high or too hoarse or do anything weird to the perfect syllables of Touya’s name but Touya’s still silent, still says nothing, and Hikaru’s going to have a heart attack if this goes on for much longer.

“Tomorrow, then,” Touya says at last.

“Yeah,” Hikaru says, swallowing hard. “Tomorrow.”

“All right,” Touya says. “Goodnight, Shindou.”

“Goodnight,” he says back, and disconnects the call before he can accidentally blurt out anything horrendously embarrassing.

So Touya doesn’t, like, totally hate him or anything. Which is good because it was totally Touya’s idea in the first place so that kind of makes it’s Hikaru’s place to be the one to blow him off, right? Except then the time to do that would have been back after Touya started making out with him, so now it’s sort of Touya’s turn to decide if he wants to do something? And this would just be way less confusing if Touya had said ‘by the way, we are continuing with our usual routine because nothing changed between us and nothing happened so if you pretend everything’s fine then I will pretend everything’s fine and then we don’t have to ignore each other until the end of time’, or maybe even possibly ‘Shindou, I have desperately loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, I must have you again’.

Then Hikaru’s phone vibrates in his hand, the sudden sensation so shocking that he can’t help the yelp that escapes him as he drops the handset on the bed.

Tentatively he picks it up, sliding it open to view the alert screen.

‘akira has invited you to a game of Go On The Go. Accept?’

There will only ever be one answer to that. As the challenged party Hikaru automatically gets black, and after only a moment’s thought he plays 17-4, right of upper-right star.

His phone vibrates immediately; Touya’s played a white stone at 4-3.

16-17, Hikaru responds.

Touya’s stone pops onscreen before Hikaru’s even pulled his finger away from the keypad: 15-3.

Aggressive bastard! If a fight’s what Touya wants, a fight’s going to be what he gets. Rolling onto his stomach, he taps out his own metaphorical shot across Touya’s bow.

***

Hikaru’s not late--he bursts into the Ki’in’s game room and throws himself down on the zabuton opposite Kondo 5-dan with almost two minutes to spare. Kondo-pro offers a greeting that Hikaru returns with breezy cheer, and then is kind enough to lower his gaze to the closed goke in a clear indication that he doesn’t need Hikaru to pretend he feels like making small talk.

Hikaru and Kondo-pro are seated in the back left of the room, which fortunately gives Hikaru a pretty good view of things. It takes him only seconds for his gaze to alight on a very familiar silhouette: Touya is seated off to the far right, his back to Hikaru. Which is a good thing, all things considered, especially given that Hikaru recognizes the soft blue sweater Touya’s wearing and knows all-too-well the absolutely intoxicating view it gives of Touya’s collarbones.

Touya is calm, he determines from the glass-smooth fall of his hair and the razor-straight line of his spine. From the angling of Touya’s arms Hikaru assumes he’s holding his palms flat on his thighs: more confirmation that Touya is neither nervous nor hesitant about today’s battle--or anything else, for that matter.

Touya’s opponent today is Fushiwaki 5-dan. Hikaru’s never played him personally, but Isumi played him about six months ago and was quite effusive about the efficacy of his midgame. Isumi was more restrained in discussing his endgame, and given that Isumi’s true talents also lie elsewhere, Hikaru’s going to take a flying leap and guess that Touya’s probably going to start conservatively and plan most of his traps to be sprung during yose. Which is going to drive Touya absolutely bananas; there’s little that frustrates Touya more than playing a conservative midgame. If there is anything that will trip Touya up it will be his impatience for the fight.

Hikaru lets his gaze wander from Touya over to Fushiwaki-pro, who is--staring right at him, apparently, since who knows when, and now he probably thinks that Hikaru was staring at Touya and the worst part is he sort of was? Maybe? Except that’s kind of just something he does now, has done for months, and probably everyone knows by know that that’s just something that he does, and--and that is not a reassuring thought at all and he’s pretty sure that actually makes it a hundred times worse.

Hikaru returns his attention to the empty goban in front of him. The game buzzer sounds only moments later, but Hikaru has heard it often enough that calm flows through him with an almost Pavlovian immediacy. Raising his gaze to meet Kondo-pro’s, they share a quiet smile before Hikaru reaches in his goke for a stone to place at 17-3.

***

When the games break for lunch, Hikaru’s fidgeting on his zabuton trying not to look like he’s staring at the back of Touya’s head when a pair of baggy canvas cargo pants walk into his field of vision.

“Yo, Shindou,” Waya says, offering him a steadying hand up. “Cutting it close this morning, huh?”

“Hey!” he protests. “I was here totally on time. So, McDonald’s today?”

Waya offers him an arch look. “Not all of us are sponging off our parents and can afford take-out every day,” he snipes. “We’re gonna eat in the lunch room.”

“Whatever! Start doing your own laundry yet?” Hikaru asks, cocking an eyebrow as he follows him out of the game room.

“We split the chores! I cook, so Isumi does laundry!” Waya argues.

“So that’s no,” Hikaru translates, his grin barely slipping when Waya smacks him on the back of his head.

“I have no clue why we’re friends,” Waya says with a glare. “Go grab lunch; I’ll see you at our table.”

“Yeah, sure. See you guys in a bit,” Hikaru says, tossing Waya a short wave as Waya turns down the hall towards the lunch room.

It’s kind of a pain to bother walking all the way to McDonald’s and stand in the line by himself, so he figures he’ll just go hit up the 7-11 for a bento. Though he’s actually not even really that hungry, so maybe he’ll just skip lunch? It’s not really that long until dinner, so--

Dinner. Which, at 5:30, actually kind of is a long ways away, so maybe he really should get something to eat, except the bottom’s dropped out of his stomach all of a sudden and he’s got the feeling that anything he tries to fill it with is just going to come back up, so maybe he should just skip the whole thing and just grab a soda or something. Then he doesn’t have to leave the Ki’in or even this floor, which makes it a pretty good plan, and it’s kind of nice to bask in the satisfaction of a decision well-made as he tromps down the hallway to the drink machine, rolling a 500 yen coin down across his knuckles and then back up.

Hikaru pretends to spend almost five whole seconds contemplating the sugar-free green tea, but his sweet tooth wins out over health concerns and he punches the button for a C.C. Lemon with only the most feeble of guilty twinges. He’s bent over to retrieve his change and his drink when a very familiar voice says “Shindou.”

Hikaru jerks, dropping his soda can with a bright thunk. “Touya!” he yelps. “God, you can’t just sneak up on people!”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Touya denies calmly as Hikaru kneels down to retrieve his thankfully unopened drink from where it’s attempted to roll away. “You’re simply unobservant.”

Hikaru makes the mistake of looking up at him and the vantage point from his angle near the ground serves to remind him of things he really, really shouldn’t be thinking right now, so by the time he’s scrambled gracelessly back upright he’s pretty sure the heat in his face means he’s blushing. “I’m totally observant,” he protests, fumbling with the plastic wrap around the cap on his soda.

“You probably don’t want to open that right now,” Touya advises, setting a hand on top of his to still him, and no, Hikaru hadn’t been blushing before, because now he’s totally blushing.

Hikaru was totally right before about the sweater. It hangs loose on Touya’s body, completely unlike his usual fit, the v-neck plunging so low that’s Hikaru’s surprised that Touya, king of ridiculous layers, isn’t wearing an undershirt.

“Um,” is the only sound that Hikaru can bring to his lips.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before the games started,” Touya says, steady and sincere and not at all sounding like someone who has anything at all to be nervous about. He removes his hand from Hikaru’s, fingertips skating the sensitive skin on the tops of Hikaru’s knuckles.

Hikaru swallows. “Yeah, I--I mean, I forgot to set my alarm and just missed the bus outside my house so it took me forever to get to the station, and--so yeah, I was late,” he says lamely.

Touya raises an eyebrow. “I see,” he says. Then he straightens up, reaching into his back pocket. “Ah, speaking of things you’d forgotten,” he says, offering a folded white notecard to Hikaru.

“Huh? Oh, thanks,” Hikaru says, switching his soda to his left hand so he can take the notecard with his right.

“I found it under my desk,” Touya explains, voice calm as if Hikaru’s things have every right to be found strewn about Touya’s bedroom.

Hikaru drops his gaze, grateful for the distraction of the notecard. Unfolding it, he sees it’s a match notice from the Ki’in advising him of his upcoming game next month in the Juudansen against--

--Against Touya Akira 5-dan.

He shoves the notecard in his back pocket and hopes Touya doesn’t think he’s been, like, carrying it around just because. He just hadn’t gotten around to pegging it up on his corkboard yet. Sure, it was mailed over two weeks ago, but whatever, he’s been busy, right?

Hikaru forces himself to laugh. “Oh yeah, right, thanks. Though it’s not like I really need it; you’d never let me forget it, right?”

“Absolutely not.” Touya’s voice is crisp. Hikaru’s gaze flits back to Touya’s and to his surprise there’s a tiny teasing lift at the corner of his mouth.

Touya’s smiling--at him, for him, at the situation, in spite of it--and whatever the reason it really doesn’t matter because Touya’s here talking to him instead of shunning him forever.

Which brings him to the subject of tonight. “Hey, Touya--” he starts, just as Touya says “Shindou--”

And now staring at each other in enforced silence is totally the most awkward thing ever.

“You first,” Hikaru blurts before Touya has a chance to turn it back on him.

“Ah,” Touya says lightly. “That is--I was just going to say that I took a moment to look over your game with Kondo-pro, and that you’re going to have to explain to me in detail just exactly what you’re doing in the middle because I’m fairly certain you’ve lost your mind.”

“Hah! Are you kidding? Okay, no, this is going to be amazing, just wait,” Hikaru insists, waving his free hand for emphasis.

Touya curves an eyebrow inquisitively. “I reserve the right to select a different adjective,” he says dryly. “What were you going to say?”

“What?” Hikaru asks.

“Just now, before I interrupted you. You were going to say something,” Touya prompts.

Now it feels built up, like if he says anything now then he’s trying to make a big deal out of everything. “Oh, um, just,” he says, and the stutter threatening to creep into his voice is definitely not helping. “That I gotta go meet everyone for lunch, but, um. Good luck,” he offers.

Touya gives him a small nod. “Thank you, Shindou. I won’t keep you any longer,” he says. “I think I will probably finish my game before you’re done with yours, so in the event that we don’t get to talk before then, I’m looking forward to dinner with you tonight,” he says.

He licks his suddenly-dry lips. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”

***

It’s almost two hours after lunch. Hikaru’s not disappointed when Kondo-pro doesn’t resign. The game’s still relatively close, and he’s actually pretty excited about the chance to see Kondo-pro in his area of strength. Reading his kifu, Hikaru hadn’t been able to shake the mental image of him as Tsutsui-senpai from some alternate universe in which he’d enrolled as an insei and gone on to become a pro.

Kondo-pro is careful, deliberate. Throughout the game he has played with moderate speed but now he lets the clock run down, choosing his moves with great delicacy. He holds sente with an iron grip, prioritizing the board with uncanny efficacy; he blocks Hikaru’s further intrusions with almost effortless grace.

Hikaru’s already ahead by four and a half points, by his own estimation, but then Kondo-pro fatally misreads the strength of Hikaru’s group at the left of centre. Hikaru’d expected him to play tsukesagari but instead he plays tsukidashi, and Hikaru almost regrets how brutally his own follow-up can use this new opening to smash through the heart of Kondo-pro’s incursion.

Kondo-pro bites his lip so hard that he leaves little impressions in his dry lips. He says nothing, and does not break his silence until every possible stone has been placed.

Black takes the victory by eleven and a half points.

“Thank you for the game,” Hikaru says.

“Thank you for the game,” Kondo-pro echoes. He takes a moment to breathe deeply, but then raises his gaze to meet Hikaru’s. “Would you care to discuss the game in the lounge?”

Hikaru doesn’t hesitate to accept, and it’s almost forty minutes later when he and Kondo-pro have exhausted their commentary on the game. Hikaru’s in the entryway retrieving his shoes when Waya walks in and stops to goggle that Hikaru realizes there’s anything unusual about the situation.

“Dude,” Waya says. “You’re still here?”

Hikaru shrugs. “I was heading out?” he offers.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Waya demands. “It’s Thursday, right?”

On the other side of the shoe rack, Kondo-pro makes a choking noise that he attempts to cover up with a controlled cough.

Waya’s not funny at the best of times, and this definitely isn’t one of those. “Why don’t you go screw yourself?” Hikaru retorts, though the pitch his voice reaches isn’t helping his intimidation factor.

“I’ll be heading out, then,” Kondo-pro says hesitantly.

“Waya’s full of crap!” Hikaru shouts desperately after him over the sound of Waya’s snickers.

Hikaru whirls around to glare. “You are such a dick, you know that?”

“Don’t be so defensive,” Waya says, waving him off. Then he cocks his head to the side, giving Hikaru a speculative look. “Hey,” he says, tone softer. “So, like, you and Touya... what’s going on, anyway? I mean, I can’t get you to skip out on Thursdays for anything, not even when I won those tickets to Kishimoto-sensei’s manga signing.”

Hikaru decides that he really needs to re-tie the fake laces on his slip-on sneakers right this second, and it has absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to look Waya in the face while his cheeks insist on blooming red-hot. “Nothing’s going on! We’re still heading out, just a bit later--which reminds me, I have to figure out where we’re supposed to be going. Your phone has the Internet, right? Hey, can you look it up for me? It’s--”

“Pfft,” Waya says. “Use your own data plan. And it’s your move in Go On The Go by the way, hurry your ass up.”

“Whatever; I missed the notification. And don’t be such a jerk; will you find it on my phone for me then?” Hikaru asks, standing back up and handing his phone over.

Waya lets out a long, indulgent sigh, but he accepts the phone and slides the keyboard out. “Stop being such a freaking baby. Okay, what’s this place called?” he asks.

“Fujihana; it’s by Shinjuku Station,” he says, peering over Waya’s shoulder.

“Jeez, Shindou, stop hovering; it’s totally creepy. Okay, fine, I’m searching,” Waya says, tapping rapidly on the keyboard. “So... oh, seriously? Seriously?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Hikaru asks, reaching over to grab his phone back, but Waya dekes out of the way and continues to tap the keyboard.

“Yeah, don’t worry about finding it. You can’t miss it, it’s the entire freaking top floor of the Satsutsuda Building,” Waya says, rolling his eyes and holding up Hikaru’s phone so he can see the screen. On it is a picture of a luxe, glittering Western-style dining room with an expansive view out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Hikaru swallows hard in an effort to summon some spit to his suddenly-dry mouth. “Is that seriously the place?” he asks. “There’s not, like, a Fujihana Sushi in some alley somewhere?”

Waya pokes around on the phone some more. “Fujihana, located in the Satsutsuda Building on Block 18 of Shinjuku,” he reads, offering the phone back.

Hikaru scrolls through the website. There are almost a dozen more pictures, covering everything from the entryway, the table settings, the open kitchen, the multi-layered cocktails, and the tiny but ludicrously-intricate French-inspired amuse-bouche including one sculpted piece of beautifully pink salmon topped with shining roe and long, curling strings of green onion that reach up triumphantly.

“Oh my God,” he says faintly.

Waya snorts. “This is what happens when you let Mr. I-Just-Won-The-Biggest-Purse-In-China choose the restaurant--I’m guessing this is revenge for your eighteen million ramen stalls. Sucks to be you, Shindou; good thing you still live at home and can afford it,” he snickers.

He glares with all the force he can muster. “Sorry; I can’t hear you over how jealous you are of my awesome dinner. Want me to bring over a doggy bag?”

“Pfft,” Waya huffs. “I know all about these places; your meal’ll be the size of a baseball and cost as much as you’d take in during an entire exhibition weekend. Call me when you wanna hit up Ouzekizushi.”

“Sunday?” he asks. “Hey, see if Isumi wants to go.”

“He’ll go,” Waya says assuredly. “So...” he begins, drawing out the word with such deliberation that Hikaru pockets his phone and indulges Waya with his full attention, “you gonna invite Touya?”

Tonight is about as far in advance as his brain wants to work, so Hikaru simply shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Because it’d be cool if you wanted to,” Waya says. His hands are in his pockets and his voice is almost deliberately casual, but his eyes have a canny tilt that announces otherwise. “Invite Touya, I mean.”

Hikaru won’t look away, and definitely will not blush. “Maybe,” he says.

“Yeah, well, you could if you wanted to. That’s all I’m saying,” Waya says.

“Fine, you ask him since you’re so insistent about it,” Hikaru says.

“I’m not the one who disappeared with him the other night and never came back!” Waya snaps. “Look, I’m just trying not to be an asshole about this, okay? I mean, I freaking covered for you when you and Touya--”

Hikaru rocks back on his heels, sucking in a sharp breath to replace the air that’s just vanished from his lungs. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about!” he grits out.

Waya knows. Waya knows, and does everyone else? Was it so obvious? Have people been talking behind his back? How could they have known? It seems impossible.

But then again, if someone had asked him a week earlier, Hikaru would have said so too was the idea of Saeki-san and Isumi.

Waya steps forward. “Hey, Shindou, don’t--”

“I’ve got stuff to do,” Hikaru says, whirling around on his heels. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Look, Shindou--” Waya tries again, but Hikaru’s already halfway across the room and in seconds he’s out the door.

Hikaru is halfway to the train station when his phone begins to vibrate. He doesn’t bother to take it out of his pocket.

***

“I’m home!” Hikaru calls, kicking off his sneakers. He almost leaves them in their haphazard pile but then he notices one’s fallen on his mother’s winter sandals so he nudges it off with his toe.

The volume on the television in the living room gets muted. “Welcome home!” his mother greets, voice bright. “You’re home so early!” she says stepping into the entryway. “I haven’t started dinner yet; would you prefer chicken or beef?”

“I’m not staying; I just was gonna change first,” he says, leaping up the first couple steps on the staircase before pausing. “I’m, um, going out for dinner,” he says. The words hang in the air, his sentence incomplete, so he takes a steadying breath and adds “With Touya.”

Mom makes an affirming hum of acknowledgement. “Oh, yes, it’s Thursday, isn’t it? Well, I’ll do the beef, and then pack up some leftovers for your bento tomorrow,” she says decisively.

“...Thanks?” he says tentatively, reaffirming his grip on the banister.

“Of course, dear,” she says, tossing him a warm smile and then turning to head back to the living room for her TV drama.

That... went well? Especially after Waya? Okay, so yeah, she totally didn’t get it at all but it’s fine if she doesn’t, totally easier if she doesn’t, especially if Touya uses dinner to break up with him instead of to confess his undying love. Except they’d sort of have to be dating first before Touya could break up with him, unless this is some kind of pre-emptive strike. Which--

--is the kind of thinking that’s going to lead him around in circles by the nose, so he tamps down on that thought as hard as he can and jogs up the rest of the stairs so he can grab a quick shower and then change.

He’s got a vague idea that he can probably do better than to just grab a pair of cargo shorts and layer his favourite yellow tee over a long-sleeved shirt, so he pokes around in the back of his closet for a pair of black trousers and a light-blue Oxford shirt.

Except, he realizes as he contemplates his reflection in the mirror, it sort of looks like he’s going to a tournament qualifier or a funeral or something and Touya’s going to take one look at him and roll his eyes so hard at Hikaru’s pathetic attempt to impress him that he’s going to sprain something.

Hikaru strips out of the trousers and tosses them on the bed, returning to his closet, hangers screeching on the bar as he pages frantically through his meagre wardrobe. Maybe jeans? Jeans are safe and totally normal wear and there’s absolutely nothing about jeans that says he’s trying too hard and yeah, jeans are totally the best option.

Though, he has to wonder as he shimmies into the denim, is he being kind of matchy-matchy with the blue shirt and blue jeans? Though the shirt is kind of like a sky blue and the jeans are a dark wash, so that’s probably okay? Does it even matter what he wears? Is Touya going to care?

He looks better than before at least, he decides, half-turning in the mirror to make sure there’s nothing he’s missed. He tucks in his shirt, untucks it, tucks it in again, finally deciding to leave it untucked, unbuttoning the top two buttons as well so he still looks casual and not like some kind of uptight weirdo.

He looks okay, he decides. Hopes. But then maybe he’s trying too hard and maybe this isn’t even a date and maybe Touya’s going to give him a somber look and tell him that he never would have kissed Hikaru if he’d had time to think twice about it and that there hadn’t even been a game to attend in the morning and he just lied so he wouldn’t have to ask Hikaru to leave.

But then Touya could have done that anywhere; he didn’t need to invite Hikaru out just to blow him off. Or at least it would have been coffee and not dinner. Or at least not to some place that is apparently going to cost Hikaru his manga budget for the next six months.

Outfit sorted, he heads back into the bathroom to turn his attention to his hair. At least that’s quick and straightforward; it’s not like there’s anything special he can do with it, so he runs gelled hands through his hair and combs it into his usual style.

He’s just about to leave the bathroom when he notices the bottle of cologne his mother got him last birthday out of the corner of his eye. Before he can chicken out, he with only minor trepidation unscrews the surprisingly heavy metal cap and gives it a tentative sniff. It’s sharp and spicy, a little overwhelming, but it’s not like you’re supposed to use a lot anyway, he figures, and dabs a teensy bit on both wrists and behind his ears.

The alarm on his phone starts blaring ‘Seishun Kyousoukyoku’ through its tinny speakers. He lets out a curse; he’s got five minutes before he’s got to be out the door. He grabs his wallet, chains it to his belt loop, then stuffs it into his left back pocket, shoving his phone into the right before dashing out of the room.

“Hikaru!” his mother calls as he thunders down the stairs. “Are you coming home tonight, or were you going to spend the night at Touya-kun’s?” And oh lord, he hadn’t even thought of that, and thank God he’s already at the bottom of the stairs or he’s pretty sure he would have slipped and broken his neck. It’s a fair question for her to ask and there’s no way she could possibly know that means something different now except he can already feel the tip of his ears start to burn and he really, really hopes she doesn’t leave the kitchen.

“Um,” he tries, voice strangled, and things don’t get any easier when she walks into the hallway, wiping her hands off on the towel in the apron tied around her waist.

“Oh, don’t you look nice!” she exclaims. “Is it your anniversary already?”

So apparently he does sort of look like he’s dressed up or something and if his freaking mom noticed then Touya probably actually is going to notice and if this isn’t a date then it’s going to be really, really hard to talk his way out of looking like an idiot and wait, anniversary of what, exactly?

“Um,” he starts. “What?”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re not my little Hika-chan anymore,” she says with a sigh. “Look at you, taller than your mother and with a life of your own. You’re going to want to move out soon, aren’t you?” She reaches up and smooths his collar down in the back. “Mm, you smell wonderful. Is that the cologne I got you? Goodness; you look so handsome,” she says, catching his gaze.

He lowers his own. “Um, thanks,” he mumbles.

“You’re going to have a wonderful time,” she says, running her fingers gently through his hair without tousling it. “Are you nervous?”

“No?” he attempts to protest, batting her hand away. “I mean, we’re just going out for dinner, right?”

Her smile is soft as she wipes something off his cheekbone with her thumb. “Yes, dear,” she says. “Home by midnight?”

Staying at Touya’s house is definitely out of the equation now, and with the salon closing at ten that gives him ample time. “Yes, Mom,” he says with a dutiful bow of his head. “Okay, I should probably get going,” he says, ducking away and grabbing his sports coat from the closet.

“All right,” she says. “Hikaru?”

He finishes shrugging into the coat. “Yeah?”

“Take care,” she says. “You’re being safe, aren’t you?”

Hikaru tries not to roll his eyes; he’s pretty sure he was ten and learning about riding the subway alone the last time he got a safety lecture. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, waving her off.

“Don’t ‘yeah, yeah’ your mother!” she says, pulling the hand towel from her apron and flicking it at him. “You’ve been using protection with Touya-kun, haven’t you?”

“Pro--” he begins to echo before her full meaning strikes him with all the weight of an iron sledgehammer; he shuts his mouth so swiftly he feels all his teeth clack together. “Mom!”

“I never know what you’ve discussed with your father,” she says with a sigh. “Please reassure your poor mother that you’re being safe.”

His mother is talking about sex. About him having sex with Touya. As if this is some everyday topic, some completely normal subject of conversation.

Moms, he is pretty sure, are not supposed to know about sex, and they especially are not supposed to know about the sex he isn’t even having yet.

But maybe he sort of did, with Touya. It was sticky and messy and so, so good, and maybe if this is a date he’s going to get to do it all again, and the memory of their night together flickers into a spark that burns hot deep in his belly.

And oh God, he can’t think of that right now with his mother standing right there staring at him.

“Mom,” he protests weakly, voice shooting up into the next register. “That’s not--we don’t--we’re not even--”

She presses her lips flat, eyebrows narrowing, the creases on her forehead deepening. “I’d feel a lot better if I knew you were carrying condoms with you,” she says. “Let me just go get--” she starts.

He jerks back, nearly tripping as he steps down into the vestibule. “I can buy my own condoms!” he protests desperately. “I mean, if I needed them,” he tacks on hastily. “Which I don’t. So you don’t--I mean, me and Touya, we don’t--we aren’t--so, no. And I’m gonna be late, so I really need to leave. Like, now,” he says, shoving his feet into his tournament loafers and whirling around to face the door. “Bye!”

***

It’s 5:28 when Hikaru emerges from Shinjuku Station at street-level. It takes him only seconds to find Touya, who looks amazing in a soft grey pea-coat Hikaru’s never seen before and well-fitted charcoal trousers. Every inch of him down to his sharp-toed leather monk straps looks impossibly perfect, as if Touya’s been interrupted on his way home from a shoot for a fashion magazine aimed at an audience way older and about a thousand times more sophisticated than Hikaru’s ever going to be, and now he’s kind of wishing he wore the slacks after all.

At least Hikaru has the advantage of arriving second. Touya stands tall, his posture perfectly straight, hands calmly at his sides. If it was Hikaru waiting there Hikaru knows it would be totally embarrassing; he’d have his hands shoved in his pockets or his fingers tapping idly against each other, he’d be shifting his weight, he’d be jiggling a foot.

Hikaru gets just a scant three metres away when Touya’s gaze draws across him and Touya’s look of moderate Zen is broken at last with a mild closed-mouth curve of his lips.

Touya is the first to speak. “Shindou,” he greets.

And there are a thousand things Hikaru’s forgotten to check--did he sweat through his shirt, does he have anything stuck in his teeth, is his fly undone, is his collar flipped up, did he scrub his tongue all the way back to pink--but it’s way too late for him to absolve himself of any of those probable sins now. “Um, hey,” he says, sounding breathless even to his own ears, and he really hopes the din of the city around them is enough not to carry it all the way to Touya’s.

“It’s good to see you,” Touya says as if he hadn’t just seen Hikaru less than three hours ago, stepping towards him to narrow the gap between them. “You look well. Is that a new shirt?” he asks, flicking a casual glance down Hikaru’s countenance.

“What? Haha, no, just whatever was laying around. You know,” Hikaru disclaims, desperately hoping he doesn’t look like he dressed up for Touya especially because he’s kind of sort of half-assed it. “I mean, not like you; you look totally--” amazing, Hikaru almost babbles, overwriting himself at the last second with “trendy, like, totally metro or something. But then you like of always do, right? You have, like, this preppy thing you do, like, a whole style thing, so you always look--” he breaks off at last, his stream-of-consciousness mouthspew abated at last by his internal horror at Touya’s look of steadily-increasing confusion.

“I look... metro?” Touya asks.

“No! I mean, yeah, kind of, but I was gonna say you just look like... like you. Like Touya,” he says weakly. “Oh my God, listen to me, I’m dying of starvation. So, dinner?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s begging for an escape.

“Ah!” Touya exclaims. “Oh, yes, I suppose it’s rather late in comparison to our usual routine. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting; shall we?” he asks, looking faintly disconcerted.

“Yeah, absolutely, let’s go,” Hikaru says, sighing in relief. “Lead the way.”

It’s not far. The Satsutsuda building is positioned so that it is already in sight, though from their vantage point Hikaru can’t see any signs or neon lights advising of the restaurant’s location. It would almost be enough to make him nervous if Waya hadn’t already checked on the website for him.

He’s definitely not gonna waste time thinking about Waya now.

Hikaru’s not really sure what kind of small talk to make during the short walk over, so he doesn’t. Today’s matches deserve a much more in-depth treatment (not to mention the ability to scribble diagrams on the napkins for clarification) so neither he nor Touya bring them up. Touya’s technically started reading Naruto, if borrowing the first two volumes from Hikaru a month ago counts, but he definitely doesn’t know enough to do more than smile and nod and suppress a yawn if Hikaru started babbling about the amazingness of volume 25--not to mention that if Touya does get there himself at some point it would be a total dick move for Hikaru to spoil it for him. It seems like it would be sort of self-aggrandizing for Hikaru to bring up the Tengensen, and talking about the Juudansen would have to lead to talking about their upcoming match which would remind Touya that Hikaru’d been carrying around that stupid notecard like some kind of memento. Which it totally wasn’t.

When they stop to wait at the intersection and their eyes inevitably meet, Touya’s mouth curves in a gentle smile. “I love this,” Touya says.

Hikaru’s mouth goes so dry it feels like he’s just attempted to swallow a mouthful of cinnamon. “What?” Because there’s no way Touya just said what he thinks he just said so there has to be something he missed; Hikaru didn’t think it was that noisy but maybe Touya’s been having, like, this entire one-sided conversation with him without him knowing it and now he thinks Hikaru’s either boring or a total asshole for ignoring him and this is so, so not going to end well.

“This time of night, when twilight’s started but there’s still enough light to find our way,” Touya says. “Though of course in the city we’ll never lack for that--but still, the sky is so beautiful, painted in so many thousands of different colours.”

Hikaru’s aware that the sun and sky exist as abstract concepts but he’s never bothered to devote much time to their contemplation. But now is such a moment and in it the fading sun casts enough light that against the darkness now beginning to shadow around them that Touya’s fair skin is almost luminous, his glossy dark hair a frame that serves to emphasize the beauty in his sharp features.

“Hey,” Hikaru says softly. “The traffic light’s changed. Come on,” he says, and before he can finish the thought and think of why he shouldn’t he grabs Touya’s hand and pulls him along.

Touya’s hand closes firmly around his, and when they reach the other side of the intersection neither of them let go.

It’s... really nice, it’s like touch has supplanted any words they might have needed to say, and so the walk down the block is warmly companionable despite their silence.

When they get to the building, Touya finally lets go of his hand so that he can open the door. “After you,” Touya offers, sending a secret, almost guilty spark thrilling through Hikaru. As a guy, Hikaru’d always had a vague awareness that he’s supposed to be the one holding doors and buying flowers and offering compliments and inviting people out to dinner, so finding himself on the receiving end of such attentions is actually kind of exciting. Touya makes it look so easy, so effortless, but if Hikaru can do the same kinds of things and make Touya feel even a quarter of the way Touya does to Hikaru then it will be worth parting oceans and moving mountains.

The lobby of the Satsutsuda building is broad and expansive, painted in soft creamy tones. There are eight elevators, four on each side of the hall, and when Touya presses the call button one opens right away with a soft bell chime.

Their ascent to the 17th floor is speedy and uninterrupted; Hikaru has to swallow hard to clear the pressure in his ears.

The elevator opens to a private lobby tastefully decorated in golden neutral tones, a bamboo garden drawing the eye across the wall to where ‘Fujihana’ is written in flowing grass calligraphy upon an unfurled scroll next to the door to the restaurant proper.

This time, Hikaru is quick enough to get the door for Touya. “Thank you,” Touya murmurs, and as he passes he brushes his fingertips against Hikaru’s hip so briefly that Hikaru’s almost not sure it happened until Touya turns back and gives him the small, reserved smile he gains whenever Hikaru’s played a particularly clever hand.

The hostess, clad in an austere all-black ensemble of suit-jacket and a prim pencil skirt, offers a deep bow and formal greetings upon their entry.

Touya gives her a reserved but warm bow of his head in return, and politely inquires about his reservations.

Reservations. As in, Touya called ahead to make sure everything went smoothly, like this was something important.

They check their coats, and the hostess escorts them through the restaurant to their table. Hikaru has to fight to focus on following the hostess instead of letting his gaze wander. The dining room is filled with people who are way more put-together and professional-looking than he is, the food looks more like modern art instead of something that came out of a kitchen, and the thirty-foot-tall floor-to-ceiling windows offer an almost impossibly beautiful vista.

They walk next to the tables at the windows and Hikaru is trying to suppress the childish hope that they can get one of them when the hostess stops at the lone empty table, retrieves an elegant notecard reading ‘reserved’, and offers them a bow.

Hikaru barely remembers to offer his thanks before sliding into his chair, gaze drawn to the city in its pooling shadows and bright dots of light. The station is easy to find, and so too is the building housing the Touya salon, though at this height the text on the sign is too small for Hikaru to be able to read if he didn’t already know exactly what it said. Then there’s the Starbucks, the used video game store, the manga cafe, the Fleur de Sol bakery they somehow end up in twice a month despite Touya’s protests that he’s not actually addicted to their azuki croissants--

“Striking, isn’t it?”

He returns his attentions to Touya and promptly forgets everything he could possibly say; the low ambient light of the restaurant conspires with the soft, flickering glow of the oil lamp on their table to give Touya’s quiet smile an air of intrigue.

“Amazing,” he agrees softly.

The moment hangs between them, and Hikaru almost opens his mouth to speak when a server dressed in an all-black suit with matching black shirt and black tie approaches the table with menus; the reminder that this is far beyond their usual routine is enough to snuff out any sort of daring Hikaru might have thought he might possess. When they are alone again Hikaru pretends to focus on the menu and stares blankly while he frantically tries to think of something to say to make things feel more normal.

He has no idea how long he’s been zoning out when Touya asks “What appeals to you?”

Hikaru straightens up, meeting his gaze reluctantly but resolutely. “Um,” he says, voice hoarse, so he coughs awkwardly in an attempt at clearing it. “I’m not sure yet. What were you going to get?” he asks.

“Mm, I was thinking the king crab ravioli in the tomato yuzu kosho sauce, or the baked Chilean sea bass in dashi-soy broth,” Touya says, setting his menu down.

That, Hikaru realizes, solves his first and second problems: what to eat, and how to choose something that isn’t either ostentatiously expensive or miserly cheap. “Oh, yeah, the sea bass looked good, I think I’ll totally get that,” he says, tossing his menu on top of Touya’s. It lands askew, so he reaches out to straighten it when he realizes his hand has crossed over the invisible middle line of the table into Touya’s territory and now he’s frozen and Touya’s staring at him and Hikaru pulls his hand back as if he’d stuck it into an open firepit.

Touya adjusts the menu with a graceful brush of his hand. “That makes it easy; then I’ll get the ravioli.”

“Great,” Hikaru says, folding his hands together in his lap so he doesn’t fidget. “That sounds awesome.”

Another silence.

“So, um, did it go like you thought it would?” Hikaru asks, swallowing hard and trying to resist the temptation to break eye contact and just stare at the window to the left of Touya.

Touya opens his mouth to speak but takes a couple moments to compose his thoughts. “Ah, I--that is--” he stumbles, and then it hits Hikaru exactly what it was he said and just how many horrible ways Touya can take that.

“With Fushiwaki-pro! Your game today!” he blurts out, digging his nails into the back of his hands in an attempt to wake himself from his idiocy.

“Oh! I--that is to say--he played an intriguing game today,” Touya recovers at last, and Hikaru’s heard Touya use that phrase often enough in polite company to know what he really means.

“Yeah, you totally murdered his ass, didn’t you? Did you make him resign?” Hikaru asks, leaning back.

Touya’s mouth twitches in the way it always does when Touya thinks he shouldn’t be smiling. “He chose to resign, yes.”

“When did you know it was over?” Hikaru prompts, and it’s surprisingly easy to fall into the usual Thursday night banter and discussion.

Covering Fushiwaki-pro’s major missteps and moments of insight takes them through ordering and the salad course. Then Touya turns the conversation to Hikaru’s game against Kondo-pro, and Hikaru’s in the middle of scratching out a rough diagram on the back of a coupon he found in his wallet by the time the full-dark has fallen, the plates have been cleared, and the server sets the guest check folder on the table with a bow.

In seconds Touya has reached into his wallet for a credit card that he tucks into the billfold and returns it to the server with a smile.

“Wait--” Hikaru starts.

“I invited you,” Touya says, waving off his protests. “Of course it’s my treat.”

But we do dinner every week and we always Dutch, Hikaru is almost but not quite disingenuous to say.

Instead he takes a steadying breath and says, sincerely, “Thank you.” Then, daring: “My turn next week?”

Touya’s steady, sure gaze drops to his lap, and he breaks into a brilliant grin with a bright flash of teeth before his expression softens into one of the more subtle smiles Touya’s been gifting him with more and more frequently these days. Then Touya’s gaze rises to meet his own. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Yeah. This is totally a date. And he should do something, say something, to tell Touya that this is a date but anything he could say would just be hideously embarrassing and Touya’s all the way on the other side of the table so reaching out would just be awkward.

But then he has an idea, and while it’s sort of stupid, there’s probably a reason why it’s a cliché so he just goes for it. “Hey, Touya,” he says, nudging him on the foot with his own. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Touya’s foot disappears, and in the millisecond in which it’s gone Hikaru has almost enough time to panic before Touya’s ankle unmistakably rubs against his own. “Thanks for coming. I--” he starts and then breaks off, pressing his lips together contemplatively.

Maybe it’s about as fair as playing an even game against a kyu-ranked player but Hikaru can’t help but feel emboldened in the face of Touya’s obvious hesitation. “I’m really glad you did,” he says. And now he’s caught the same way Touya was caught, and it’s only the steadiness of Touya’s gaze, the warmth of his touch, that gives him the strength to continue. “I kind of freaked out last week,” he admits. “I woke up and you were gone and your note was totally vague and I just wasn’t sure what was going on, so...” he trails off.

“I’m sorry,” Touya says softly, ankle still pressed warmly against his. “I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t... want to presume anything.” Then he closes his eyes and draws a long breath. “No,” he says, contradicting himself. “To be perfectly honest, I knew I shouldn’t have left like I did, but I wasn’t sure how you were going to react. I know that night I was... opportunistic. Insistent. I didn’t give you time to think about anything, so I was worried that once you’d had that time...” he trails off. “So I thought if you were all right with things then we’d talk later, and if you regretted it then maybe we could just... carry on as normal as if nothing ever happened.”

“So this--this is the first option, right? I mean--this is a date,” he says, breath caught in his throat as he waits for Touya’s reply.

Touya swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the slim column of his throat. “I hope so.”

They retrieve their coats and return to the outer lobby. Touya presses the button to call the next elevator, and as the wait stretches on Hikaru reaches over and grabs Touya’s hand in his. Touya squeezes back, and while neither of them say anything the mood isn’t a silence but a stillness, a quiet.

Hikaru can see their reflections in the polished chrome doors of the elevator, and as he draws his gaze up he sees Touya’s reflection looking at him, and can’t help but bite his lip on a smile at discovering Touya doing the same thing he is.

The elevator chimes, and opens an empty car for them.

Reflection-Touya turns to face him, so Hikaru turns to meet his actual gaze. “Shall we?” Touya asks.

He’s totally going to kiss Touya out here in the lobby in about a second and a half if he doesn’t move. “Yeah, absolutely,” he says, lunging forward into the car.

The elevator is small and ostensibly private and Hikaru’s so, so tempted to just go for it and kiss him but the ride is too short; instead Touya’s thumb lightly strokes the side of his hand so Hikaru strokes him back.

Hikaru expects to go north when they exit the building to head back towards the salon but Touya surprises him by drawing him west. “Shinjuku is my absolute favorite part of Tokyo,” Touya says as they begin to walk. “Everything is so vibrant; everyone is so busy, so driven, so focused.”

“That is so completely you,” Hikaru says with a grin. “Me, I just like the neon lights.”

Touya makes a huff of amusement and his shoulder bumps into Hikaru’s hard enough that he’s pretty sure it was on purpose.

Nothing needs to be said as they stroll through the streets; with each footstep they lay another stone, build more territory, strengthen their formations. He’s not sure who is leading who, as it feels as if they’ve been picking directions at random at each intersection, but somehow they wind their way into Nishi-Shinjuku, somber skyscrapers towering over them.

“Hey, there’s Shinjuku Central Park,” Hikaru says, breaking their companionable quiet at last and pointing over at the greenspace. “You know, I’ve never actually been. Wanna?” he asks.

Touya makes a thoughtful hum. “There are some parts that aren’t so nice at night. But let’s stop by the Kumano Shrine,” he says, reaffirming his grip on Hikaru’s hand and leading the way to the park’s northwest edge.

Hikaru’s always sort of liked public parks; no matter how carefully or meticulously maintained they always seem to feel of the time when it wasn’t a park but simply part of the land, carrying the memory of days long past. In winter there are none of the bright colours of summer or the riotous glory of fall but there is a peaceful calm, the evergreens staid and resilient, the whisper-thin framework of the denuded deciduous trees a promise of the spring to come.

The Kumano Shrine is only a few minute’s walk. It’s small but well maintained, and their footsteps come to a halt at a bench in front of the shrine by unspoken mutual assent. They sit down, close enough so that their knees are touching. Touya slips his hand from his and Hikaru’s briefly struck by how bitter the cool of the night air is on his palm before Touya’s hand is on his face instead and he finds his eyelids fluttering closed as Touya leans in to press a single delicate kiss against his mouth.

“Shindou,” Touya murmurs. “I haven’t been able to think of anything but that all evening.”

If Hikaru’s honest with himself then he’ll admit that he’s been thinking of a lot more than just a little kiss.

“Hey, Touya,” he says, and finishes the thought with a kiss of his own, drawing his tongue along Touya’s bottom lip. Touya opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, and without even thinking about it Hikaru sets his hand on Touya’s thigh as he leans in.

There is nothing else that needs to be said; they’ve spent hundreds of games in fuseki with each other, played a hundred thousand hands, and like a newly-discovered joseki they play variation after variation with their lips over mouths and necks and ears, with their hands over hands and thighs and chests.

Hikaru’s unbuttoned Touya’s coat and has slipped a hand inside to skate lightly over the crisp fabric of Touya’s shirt; his fingers discover the little nub of a nipple and he strokes it lightly with his nails, then again with the pads of his fingertips, marveling at how it stiffens under his attentions. Which is kind of making him think of other things, like things that happened on Touya’s birthday, and this time when he sets his hand on Touya’s thigh he slides it up higher and higher.

Holding his breath, Hikaru dares to skate his fingers across Touya’s groin.

Touya, who had been running his hands up and down Hikaru’s back and sucking on Hikaru’s tongue, halts both of those activities to gasp. Emboldened, Hikaru strokes again, this time with more pressure, and is gratified when Touya’s breathing shudders.

“Shindou,” Touya breathes against his mouth, and the syllables of his name have never sounded more urgent, more vital. “Shindou, please--”

“Touya,” he breathes, stroking again. He can feel Touya’s cock swelling underneath his palm, and the thought that it’s because of him is enough to drive him lightheaded; Hikaru’s touching him, touching Touya, and Touya wants it, wants him.

He starts to slide the zipper down but Touya’s hand is on his wrist and stilling him in an instant. “Don’t,” Touya says, voice rough.

“I want to,” Hikaru says; he won’t let his voice shake, he won’t. “Please?” He reaches forward and slips his fingers inside Touya’s fly and as he strokes there is a hoarse growl in his ear, sharp teeth on his throat, satiny smoothness under his fingertips that gilts the growing firmness of Touya’s erection.

“Oh my God,” Touya exhales in a rush, jerking away. “Oh my God. I--Shindou, I want--we can’t--”

Touya’s hair is in disarray and his cheeks are flushed and his coat is open and his fly’s undone and for a moment Hikaru just wants to pounce him anyway and leave it to the whims of the universe to keep them safe.

He balls his hands on his thighs to keep himself from reaching out. “Yes,” Hikaru says. “We can. Please; let me touch you. I want--I want to suck you again; I’ve thought about it so many times since last weekend. Let me do this,” he says, voice starting to shake.

“We can’t, not here, not in public,” Touya says, voice strengthening. He reaches down and adjusts his hard-on before zipping his fly back up, then buttons his coat.

“Wait--” Hikaru starts, but Touya silences him with a quick kiss on the lips.

“Not here,” Touya repeats. “But if--if you want to do this, we can go somewhere else. Somewhere private. Right now. Is that...” he trails off. “Would you like to?”

No but yes. Touya wants to, wants him, and Hikaru can have him, just not here. “Yes, yes, yes,” he says. “God, yes. Where do you--do you know where--” he starts, and even though he knows what Touya’s saying he almost can’t believe it, can’t imagine that he’s about to become the kind of person who goes to... that kind of place.

“Yes,” Touya says, getting to his feet and dragging Hikaru up by the hand.

Hikaru stumbles to his feet; the world is spinning and his legs don’t want to work right and he’s drunk right now, drunk on Touya, and he’ll do anything it takes to get more.

Hikaru’s never walked anywhere so fast, though as they backtrack through the park and through the glittering streets he’s pretty sure it’s taking at least twice as long. He drags Touya into kisses at every opportunity; they miss two walk lights in a row at an intersection as Hikaru learns Touya’s mouth again and tries desperately to memorize it.

Touya stops in front of a door to an office building like any other. “Here,” he says, and while he doesn’t break their handhold he does use his free hand to open the door for Hikaru.

“Here?” Hikaru asks. It’s not like he’s ever been to a love hotel before but he’s walked by some before and seen them in movies; here there is no gaudy neon sign or foreign landmark rendered in miniature, no florid French script. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Touya says, voice hoarse, and pulls him inside.

The lobby is delicately appointed with stone floors and a single Persian runner guiding them to the elevator. They take the elevator to the second floor and exit into another lobby, though this one features a steel-faced ticketing machine.

Without Touya guiding him by the hand, Hikaru’s not sure he would ever make it without chickening out or dying of embarrassment. But he is, his hand warm and sure and a little sweaty in his own, and the two of them are contemplating the options provided on the sedate machine.

“How much time do we have?” Touya asks. “Would you... would you like to spend the night?” he asks, eyes roving over the buttons.

And Hikaru does, he really does, but his conversation with his mother hits him with full force and he remembers his curfew and oh God he should have let her give him the condoms. “We need condoms,” he says weakly.

“They’ll have them. And lube,” Touya says, calm somehow. “Should we stay, or rest?”

Hikaru swallows hard. “I have curfew. Two hours?” he asks.

“Okay,” Touya says, pressing a few buttons. Then he reaches for his wallet but Hikaru’s faster, grabbing crisp new bills from his billfold.

“You paid for dinner. I can pay for this,” Hikaru says, feeding the machine and listening to it count out his change which it spits out along with a single keycard.

Hikaru retrieves his change and the keycard. “Room 303,” he says. “So, um...?” he trails off.

“Yes,” Touya says, leaning in and pressing a kiss against his mouth that promises everything.

***

Hikaru doesn’t know who invented keys, but whoever it was has definitely never needed to get anywhere quietly. Holding his house-key in his hand, he threads his other keys between the fingers of his left hand, using his thumb to hold his go-stone strap up out of the way so it doesn’t dangle and hit the door as he slowly, slowly slides in his key and turns the lock, which opens with a soft click.

Success! Jubilant, he pulls his key free, though he has to bite back a swear word when the keys jangle together as he stuffs them back in his pocket.

“Welcome home.”

Hikaru almost jumps; illuminated by the flickering television screen is his father, sitting at the couch in a housecoat. “Uh...” he trails off. “Thanks.”

It was just about half-past midnight when he got off the train, and it took him at least forty-five minutes, maybe even an hour to walk home, so it is probably pretty darn close to two o’clock, which is definitely past the midnight he promised his mother.

He really, really hopes his hair didn’t dry weird and almost lifts a hand to check but maybe then it will be super obvious he’s trying to cover up for something except there’s got to be like a hundred different legitimate reasons why Hikaru could have had to shower while he was out that have nothing to do with trips to love hotels.

Dad mutes the already-quiet television and then leans over to click on the table-side lamp, brightening the living room to habitable levels. “How was your night?” he inquires.

Hikaru locks the door behind himself and kicks off his shoes, nudging them into some semblance of straightness with his foot. “Um, good,” he says, stepping up from the genkan onto the floor. “I know I’m late, I’m so, so sorry; we lost track of time and then I just barely caught the last train and then the buses had stopped running so I had to walk home and I’m really, really sorry,” he says, bowing for good measure.

Dad takes a sip from the water glass on the side-table, and Hikaru thinks that sip is the longest moment in his life. “It’s all right,” his father says, and only then does Hikaru release the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Next time if your plans change, just give us a call and let us know you’re not going to make it so your mother and I don’t have to worry.”

“Okay,” he says. It sounds like it’s got to be way too easy--just call, and then everything’s okay? It would have been way easier and a heck of a lot less stressful if he’d known that before he’d broken land speed records hauling ass from the hotel to the train station.

And, he realizes with a swimming little flip of his stomach, he could have stayed with Touya. They could have spent the night together, and Hikaru could have woken up next to him and maybe they could have showered together and gone out for breakfast and then headed over to the salon to get in at least a couple of the games they didn’t last night, and then--

“Well,” Dad continues, interrupting his little fantasy, “it’s a special occasion and you did make it home, so I think we won’t have to tell your mother.”

Hikaru lets out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Dad,” he says, and he’s tempted to point out that having to walk home all the way from the station is basically its own punishment, but maybe it’s better just to drop the whole thing before his dad decides to ask him any more questions about why he’s late.

But-- “Wait--what special occasion?” Hikaru asks, panic elevating the pitch of his voice. Maybe Dad can tell what he’s--what he’s just been doing. Maybe he should have stopped by the pharmacy to buy some gel for his hair after all--but if he’d done that then he definitely would have missed the last train and then he’d be stuck in Shinjuku and he’s pretty sure his dad would be a lot madder if he didn’t come home at all. Maybe he should have tucked in his shirt--okay, so he didn’t leave the house with it tucked in, but would Mom even remember that? And she’s not even up now anyway and it’s not like Dad is gonna ask Mom what Hikaru looked like when he left so they can compare notes or something.

Hair, clothes, what else did he miss? What else should he be thinking of? What else could he have--and oh God he should have checked, he really should have checked, because it’s probably hickeys. It’s definitely hickeys. He remembers staring at himself in the mirror the morning after the party and it was horrible, just horrible; the big purple splotches looked like someone had stuck leeches to his neck. And he definitely absolutely is pretty sort of sure that Touya was kissing his neck tonight and maybe he left hickeys again and he is going to have to have a sit-down conversation with Touya about this because he hasn’t even owned a turtleneck since he was fourteen and the least Touya could do would be to offer him a scarf or something to wear home so that he doesn’t walk home into an interrogation and oh God, Hikaru has no idea what he’s going to say if Dad just comes out and asks him if he was off having sex just now.

“Your mother mentioned it was your anniversary with Touya-kun,” Dad says, his voice calm and measured like a newscaster or a Buddhist monk.

He talked to Mom. Who thought he was having sex with Touya. Which was only sort of technically true at the time. So now Dad thinks he’s having sex with Touya. Which is absolutely and completely true.

“Um,” Hikaru starts, clearing his throat. “Um, no, I mean, we don’t have an anniversary,” he says weakly. He could continue in that vein and talk about how they definitely aren’t dating, except that’s total bullshit and his dad is probably going to find out at some point anyway so earlier is probably better, right? “But we went out on a date,” he admits, and when his dad doesn’t leap up in alarm or start throwing things, Hikaru takes a breath and says, “Our first date.”

“So this is something new for the two of you, then,” Dad says thoughtfully. “You’ve known Touya-kun for some time now; did it feel different? How did it go?”

He pokes his socked toe at the seam between the hardwood floor of the hallway and the carpeting of the living room. “It was a little different. But kind of the same. Um, it went good. Well. It went well,” he says, staring at his foot, and he really, really hopes the light is bad enough where he’s standing that Dad can’t see that he’s blushing because his cheeks are feeling really warm right now.

“I’m glad to hear you had a good time,” Dad says. “Are you planning another date?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah,” he says, and saying it, telling someone else, even just his dad, makes it real somehow, like it’s something that still exists when he and Touya are apart. “Yeah,” he repeats. “We’re definitely gonna do it again.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Dad says. “Your mother was concerned about you.”

“What’s that?” Hikaru asks before his brain has a chance to process it, and then the bottom drops out of his stomach when he remembers his conversation with her before he left, and her questions, and her offer of condoms, and it is so incredibly embarrassing to realize now that she was totally right and he totally should have listened to her.

“I, um, it’s okay, you don’t have to give me the speech, I know that stuff is important, we’re using condoms,” Hikaru blurts in a rush.

Seconds drag on, and apparently there’s no such thing as spontaneous human combustion because he’s still here in the hallway very much alive and not a pile of charred bones and ash for his mother to clean up in the morning.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” Dad says calmly. “Actually, what I wanted to mention was that she had noticed you haven’t been mentioning your other friends lately.”

Hikaru is never, never going to be able to look his dad in the face ever again, which is going to make holidays really difficult, so it’s a good thing his parents are headed off to Hawaii this year for New Year’s when Hikaru’s in Hakodate for the exhibition. “Oh,” he says with a little cough.

He wonders what friends Mom’s thinking of; it’s not like Hikaru talks about people all the time at home. Or maybe he does? It’s not like he gives his mom status updates or mission debriefings but they talk about random stuff sometimes.

He’s not avoiding anyone. Well, not really; it’s not like he talks to Saeki-san much outside of the study group and Isumi’s been in Shanghai and then he didn’t see him at the Ki’in today and Waya decided to pick today to act like a jerk so it’s not like Mom’s gonna know anything about it.

Waya was a jerk. He was totally a jerk, and he didn’t even have a real reason to think that anything was going on between Hikaru and Touya, and the fact that there kind of sort of is something going on between Hikaru and Touya is really just a coincidence for which Waya can’t take credit for at all. Besides, if he has a real talk with Waya then Waya’s gonna want to ask him questions and Hikaru is pretty sure he’s not really qualified to answer any of them, especially if he wants to know what’s up with him and Touya. Something, something is definitely up, but he should probably ask Touya if wanting to go out on another date means they’re going steady before he goes and says anything to anyone else.

So Hikaru will just have to distract Waya with something else. He’ll figure it out. He’ll smooth it over.

“Well, I mean, you know,” Hikaru says. “It’s been crazy.”

Dad nods solemnly. “To be sure. I know you’ll always find time for what’s important.”

He’s not really sure if Dad’s being sincere or if it’s meant to be a burn or what, but he totally will. He’ll talk to Waya, and everything’s going to be fine.

“I will,” Hikaru affirms. “Um, thanks,” he says, a little awkwardly. “For...” well, mostly for not freaking out about the late thing, or especially the gay thing, so, “everything, you know. Um, so I’m going to go to bed...?” he trails off, waiting to make sure he’s been dismissed.

Dad nods. “Goodnight, son.”

“Night, Dad,” he says, bowing his head.

***

When Saturday rolls around he’s not really sure if he should go to Waya’s for the usual study session, but then maybe it would be weirder if he didn’t, so that’s how he finds himself standing outside Waya’s apartment complex staring at the buzzer panel when a voice comes up behind him and says “Hey, Shindou,” sending him lurching forward awkwardly in surprise.

“Saeki-san!” Hikaru exclaims as he spins around, and it is totally not at all awkward and he is absolutely not thinking about that time he saw him with his tongue halfway down Isumi’s throat. “Um, hi,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound as stupid as he feels.

Saeki-san tosses him a wave. “Hey, Shindou-kun! How goes?” he asks.

“Um, you know,” Hikaru casts about. “Good. And stuff. You?” he asks.

“Pretty stoked,” Saeki-san says with a grin. “Really looking forward to going over the games today.”

“Yeah, me too,” Hikaru says, and buzzes Waya’s apartment.

“Hey,” Waya says through the crackly speaker.

“Hey,” Hikaru echoes back. “It’s me and Saeki-san; let us in.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re totally rude?” Waya says, but then the buzzer box screeches and Hikaru hears the door click as it unlocks.

Hikaru and Saeki-san head up the stairs to Waya and Isumi’s apartment. The door’s unlocked, as usual, and he lets himself and Saeki-san in with a shouted “Thanks for having us!” after which he appends “See, I totally do too have manners!”

“Don’t let him bother you, Shindou-kun,” Isumi-san says from the hallway.

Hikaru turns and gives him a wave. “Um, hi,” he says a little uneasily, gaze darting towards Saeki-san.

Saeki-san’s smiling. “Hey, Isumi-san,” he greets, his tone warm, and maybe they want to kiss or something and maybe Hikaru should make himself scarce just in case.

“Um, gonna go snag a drink!” Hikaru says hastily, heading towards the kitchen.

Rustling around in the fridge, Hikaru helps himself to a Calpis before heading towards the chatter in the living room. Waya, Nase, Honda, Komiya, and Okada-pro are already gesticulating wildly over a goban upon which about twenty stones have been laid.

Waya looks up upon his entrance into the room, meeting his gaze.

Hikaru is the first to look away.

Isumi and Saeki-san enter the room only moments later, and then the debate about the game in progress continues in earnest.

Today, Hikaru doesn’t have much to contribute. He still pretty much doesn’t even want to be here, and the longer the afternoon drags on the worse it gets.

He can’t help but spend more time staring at people than the board. He keeps waiting to catch Isumi or Saeki-san staring at each other but he can never time it quite right; they’re following the game, or offering commentary, or eating snacks, or drinking soda, but Hikaru somehow can’t catch them in the act.

When they take their usual fifteen-minute break after the first hour, Hikaru’s more than ready to dash to his feet and head off to the kitchen. Some tea sounds pretty good right about now, so he grabs himself a cup and a teabag of Isumi’s genmaicha and helps himself to some hot water from the dispenser.

“Hey, Shindou-kun,” Saeki-san greets as he walks into the kitchen. “Oh, good idea. I’ll have some tea too,” he says, fetching down a teacup and tea. Hikaru sidesteps out of his way so that Saeki can have access to the hot water dispenser. “So how goes?” he asks, giving Hikaru a sidelong glance that reminds Hikaru way too much about how Saeki-san was looking at him the last time they were in a kitchen together and Hikaru chokes on his own spit when he remembers he was with Touya then and now Saeki-san knows and he can’t possibly be asking about that because there is no way Hikaru can be having this conversation with him right now, absolutely not.

“Whoa, let’s not talk about that,” Hikaru says, voice strangled.

Saeki-san raises an eyebrow. “I’m sorry; what?” he asks.

Hikaru blinks. “Um, what?” he echoes.

Saeki-san gives a little laugh. “Okay, fair enough. I suppose you’ve been getting it on all sides, eh? I won’t contribute further to your stress level,” he says, clapping a hand briefly on Hikaru’s shoulder.

“Wait,” Hikaru starts, panicked. “Who’s saying what?”

“Don’t worry about it; Morishita-sensei’s just excited that you’re the first one of his students in years to have a real shot at sitting for Tengen,” Saeki-san says, and all of a sudden they’re having an entirely different conversation somehow.

“Oh, um,” Hikaru starts.

“Don’t let him stress you out,” Saeki-san says. “You’re doing great.”

Hikaru heaves a sigh. “Thanks,” he says.

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true,” Saeki-san says. “Ready to head back in?” he asks with a smile.

Hikaru returns his grin. “Yeah, absolutely,” he agrees, and when they kneel down at the goban Hikaru’s mind is clear for the first time that afternoon, and he spends the remaining minutes of the break letting the pattern of stones across the board flit across his mind’s eye, breaking apart and reconfiguring in a dozen different combinations before the discussion resumes.

***

An hour and a half later, Hikaru is rinsing his teacup out in Waya’s sink when he hears Waya’s voice behind him. “Dude,” Waya says. “Don’t half-ass it; the least you can do is put it in the dishwasher.”

“I was gonna! I was just rinsing! That’s what you’re supposed to do!” Hikaru argues.

Waya sighs. “It’s a dishwasher. It washes dishes. You don’t have to rinse them; that just wastes water.”

“Yeah, well, if I don’t rinse them then sometimes they still have residue on them and they’re totally gross,” Hikaru defends himself.

“Yeah, if you have a terrible dishwasher, which we don’t,” Waya points out.

Okay, now it’s on. “It was at your house!” Hikaru exclaims. “I took a cup straight from this very dishwasher!”

“Were they clean dishes? Check the magnet on the front!” Waya says, disgusted.

Which duh, of course. “Whatever; I know washing dishes goes, jerkface,” Hikaru says, and he’s totally not sulking.

“Whatever yourself,” Waya says, which is pretty much the worst comeback in the history of ever, so clearly Hikaru wins this round. “You might as well load everything else up while you’re at it,” Waya says.

“Dude, I am not your personal manservant; do your own dishes,” Hikaru says.

“I totally fed you and gave you drinks and let you hang out in my space! The least you can do is dishes,” Waya says. “Besides, didn’t you say you totally owed me for taking over for you as host during Touya’s birthday party? Consider this payment for your outstanding debt,” Waya says, and Hikaru shuts his mouth so quickly on his next smart-ass remark that his teeth clack together.

Okay, yeah, fine, so he kind of does owe Waya, whatever, so he’ll load the stupid dishwasher, and then they won’t have to have this conversation. Besides, it’s not like it’ll take long, and it doesn’t, not even ten minutes, and that’s including sweeping around the living room picking up everything everyone left behind.

Hikaru’s drying his hands on the hand-towel hanging from the stove when he hears someone walk into the kitchen. “Yo, Shindou,” Waya says.

Hikaru leans over to hit the start button on the dishwasher before he turns around. The hiss of the water filling the dishwasher is loud in the kitchen; he realizes that everyone’s left already and it’s just him and Waya. “You’re welcome,” he says. “So we good?”

Waya leans against the doorframe. “I dunno,” he says. “Are we good?” he asks levelly, and apparently they’re having a conversation.

Hikaru sets his jaw. “We’re good,” he says flatly.

Waya straightens up, losing his casual pose. “Hey, Shindou,” he says. “Look, that stuff I said about Touya--”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” Hikaru says, voice tight, and he phrased it as a question but it’s not, not really.

Waya’s mouth flattens. “Okay, so don’t talk, but maybe you can listen while I talk. Look, I don’t know what’s going on, because you don’t want to tell me. And that kind of pissed me off because I thought we were friends, and I thought you could trust me.”

Hikaru takes a breath to jump in, but Waya resumes talking before Hikaru has a chance. “But you know what? It’s none of my business. So if you wanna keep it secret, that’s fine. I’m not going to ask you about it. You’re my friend, period, and your life is your life.”

Hikaru chews on the inside of his mouth for a moment as he tries to figure out what to say to that. “I, um...” he trails off, and he can’t help feeling like somehow it’s his fault after all. “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets so he won’t be tempted to fiddle with anything.

“Yeah, well, I was a jerk too, so wanna call it a draw?” Waya asks.

“You weren’t a jerk,” Hikaru admits. “I just, um... urgh, this is hard,” he says, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I was just kind of--caught off guard that you knew, because I don’t know if I know, even. I’ll tell you what’s going on when I’m sure what’s going on?” he offers with half of a smile.

Waya smiles back, and his is a little reserved too but at least it’s genuine. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be here when you figure it out.”

“Okay,” Hikaru agrees, and he’s so overwhelmed by the wave of sheer relief that he hadn’t even thought to expect that he can’t help himself from blurting, “I’m in love with him. I don’t know how it happened. I don’t even know when it happened. You’d think I’d know, right?”

Waya wrinkles his nose, but his eyes are still bright. “Sorry, can’t help you there--the very first thing you ever told me back when we first met was about how obsessed you were with Touya, so I think your cause has been lost for awhile now.”

Hikaru colours. “You are so full of crap.”

Waya snorts. “Yeah, sure. When you figure this out and start telling people, I hope you’re not expecting anyone to act surprised.”

Hikaru tosses him the finger, and when Isumi calls out “I’m back!” from the front door, Waya has Hikaru in a headlock and is administering a noogie while Hikaru punches him ineffectually in the ribs.

***

Hikaru’s more than a little disappointed when the New Year’s go exhibition at the Hotel Akabana in Hakodate is canceled on the 26th, and not just because he was finally going to get a chance to play Yashiro again after their last encounter in the Ouza preliminaries. It’s not about the games, or visiting Goryoukaku, or even going out for shio ramen on the Nihon Ki’in’s tab--and given that Kurata was the exhibition’s headlining guest, Hikaru would have been guaranteed seats in the best restaurants in the city.

No; if Hikaru’s being perfectly honest with himself, he has to admit that it’s about Touya. Which, okay, yeah, so sometimes it feels like everything in his life is about Touya but since everything else in Hikaru’s life is about go and Touya is irrevocably tangled up in that it turns out that everything actually is about Touya. But he and Touya were booked to share a room, which happened the last two exhibitions that booked both of them so normally it wouldn’t be that big a deal, except this is going to be the first time since the birthday party, and that kind of didn’t count since Touya didn’t even stick around afterwards, not that he’s still upset about it or anything.

Though things might still work out, actually. Hikaru’s parents are already booked for Hawaii for their romantic getaway thing so that means that Hikaru’s got the house all to himself and maybe Touya might want to come over or something. Probably. Totally going to, because it’s a great idea, right? So all he has to do is ask Touya, which he can totally do, and because he has the vague sense that he should do it in person he decides to wait until Monday so he can ask him after Serizawa-sensei’s.

Naturally, Monday itself is pure torture. He tries to pay attention during Serizawa-sensei’s study session, he really does. They’re going over Touya’s game with Xú Jié for the final match of the Nine Stars Of The Nine Stars, which Hikaru’s been dying to do since half-assing commentary during the live-watch at Waya’s, except not even that can hold his attention when Touya himself is right there.

Touya is cool and composed. He speaks with confidence and surety, explaining his calculations and motivations throughout the game, accepting compliments and chastisements equally with the same quiet smile, and even laughing when he his eyes meet Hikaru’s as he admits that his gorgeous seki kuzure midway through chuuban was constructed out of sudden opportunity, not design.

Afterwards, Hikaru heads to the train station with the usual group of Touya, Denma-pro, and Kujime-pro. Talk is easy and lighthearted, but Hikaru can’t help the impatience that flows through him as they get closer and closer to the station. Denma-pro sees them off with a jaunt and a wave, heading off towards the platform for the Yurakucho Line to catch the train to Koto, but Kujime-pro lives in Bunkyo so Hikaru has to suffer through another five minutes of small-talk as the three of them wait for the train together.

The nice thing about the timing of Serizawa-sensei’s study session is that even though it kind of sucks getting there on time, they get out perfectly positioned to miss the worst crush of the post-work crowd and there are pretty much always seats available on the train. Hikaru beelines straight to the one free window seat, and while it isn’t unexpected that Touya slides in next to him, it is definitely a new thing where Touya sits close enough for their thighs and calves to touch.

Kujime-pro grabs the empty aisle seat in the row in front of them, and they spend the ride to Todaimae discussing how much it sucks that the vending machines in the Ki’in no longer stock Fanta Melon Creamsoda and how regular old Fanta Melon is a completely inadequate substitute, or at least they do until Touya sets his hand down on Hikaru’s knee. Hikaru’s brain almost completely shuts down, and it takes all of his remaining willpower not to gasp or bite his lip or look at Touya. The only thing that keeps Hikaru from falling to pieces is that Kujime-pro doesn’t even seem to have noticed, although Hikaru has no clue how that’s even possible since it’s the only thing his own mind can process right now.

Finally the train arrives at Todaimae Station. Kujime-pro bids them good night, and Hikaru manages to wait just long enough for the train to start moving again before he clasps his own hand over the hand Touya has on his knee and turns to kiss him right here, right now, right on the mouth. Touya leans into the kiss, and before he can help himself Hikaru’s tongue is in Touya’s mouth, teasing and touching and tasting, and Touya kisses him back even harder, tongue fighting with his own.

Until someone behind them issues a very loud, very deliberate clearing of her throat.

Hikaru breaks away, embarrassed. He’s not sure if he should apologize or what, so he settles for resolutely facing forward and trying really, really hard not to blush.

Touya stretches his hand under Hikaru’s, spreading his fingers so that Hikaru’s fingers slip through his before he tightens his grip again. “I missed you today,” Touya murmurs, leaning in so close that Hikaru can feel Touya’s soft hair as it brushes against his ear.

And even though they’ve just spent the last two and a half hours in the same room, Hikaru knows exactly what he means. “Me too,” he says. “Hey, um, I was wondering something,” he says.

Touya’s thumb strokes up along the side of Hikaru’s thumb. “What’s that?”

“So, you know how we’re free for New Year’s all of a sudden?” Hikaru asks. “My parents are going to be out of town, and I was thinking that maybe if you wanted to you could come over, and, um, spend the night?”

His breath is caught in his throat, and it is totally not helping the pounding in his chest when Touya is silent for long, agonizing seconds.

“My father hosts a New Year’s party every year for his study group,” Touya says at last.

Which doesn’t sound like the yes Hikaru had been hoping for. “Which you weren’t even planning to go to until yesterday,” he points out, unable to avoid sounding more than a little petulant.

“Because I was going to be attending a function,” Touya says, straightening up in his seat. “Now that I’m no longer otherwise engaged, I’m expected to attend.”

Hikaru sneaks a sideways glance at Touya, and the tiny line creasing his brow makes Hikaru feel a little less irritated at him. “It’s not like you have to if you don’t want to, though.”

Touya purses his lips for a moment. “I do want to, though. I want to spend the holiday with my family, and with my fellows. I also want to spend it with you, and I don’t see why I can’t do both. Come to our New Year’s party,” he proposes.

Hikaru’s heart flutters for brief, brilliant moments in his chest before he remembers that it’s a go invitation, not a sentimental one. “The one you literally just said was for your father’s study group, the one I’m not in?”

Touya’s mouth gains a soft curve. “You do realize my father’s invitation was a standing one, and that Ogata-san asks after you at least every three months or so?”

Hikaru wrinkles his nose. “That would just be weird. You have your thing, I have mine, and then we have Mondays. That’s how it goes,” he says.

“Or we could have Mondays and Wednesdays,” Touya points out, squeezing his hand again.

“Yeah, I really don’t think that’s going to happen,” he says, rolling his eyes.

Touya heaves a breath that is really more of a huff than anything else. “You could at least pretend to be interested in the group.”

“I’m really not,” Hikaru says.

Touya’s foot kicks his. “Just show up,” he says, exasperated.

And there’s not really any reason to say no to that. “Yeah, okay,” Hikaru says, kicking him back. “Should I bring anything?”

“Wear a kimono; I hate being the only person under forty not in a suit,” Touya says, and kisses him hard enough that Hikaru can feel the blood pounding in his ears.

***

It hits Hikaru later that wearing a kimono means actually acquiring and learning how to wear one. Hikaru panics until, after a brilliant flash of insight, he finally asks his mother for help. After she gets over her initial displeasure at Hikaru’s complete failure to mention that the exhibition had been cancelled and he planned to stay home alone during the holidays, she is aflutter with pleasure at the news of Hikaru’s plans. “That was very kind of Touya-kun’s parents to invite you; I’ll pack up a treat for you to bring with you.”

“It’s no big deal; it’s a go party so there’re lots of pros invited,” Hikaru tries to demur.

“Shindou Hikaru, if you think any son of mine is going to show up empty-handed, you are sorely mistaken,” she says in her sternest tone. “Besides, don’t you want to make a good impression on Touya-kun’s parents?”

“I already know his parents; I’m over there all the time,” Hikaru protests.

“All the more reason to bring them a sign of your appreciation. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it for you, dear,” she assures him, then returns her attention to the problem of finding him something to wear.

“You and your father are of a height nowadays; why don’t we borrow his russet kimono?” she suggests.

Obsession with a four-thousand-year-old board game aside, Hikaru hadn’t much interest in the traditional or historical, so his mother had spent the better part of an hour with him before declaring him competent enough to dress himself, undress himself, and to fold the garments to her satisfaction.

“And for goodness’s sake, don’t you dare try to launder anything yourself; you just leave it for me when I get back,” she warns.

Her lectures die on her lips when she stops fussing with the lines of his kimono and simply steps back. “Oh, don’t you look so mature!” she coos, misty-eyed, dashing off to grab her camera.

Half a memory card’s worth of glamour shots later, she runs her fingers through his bangs, clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Might be time to start growing this out, don’t you think? You’re a professional now. Oh! New Year’s is the best time for a fresh start; why don’t we just dye your bangs back to black? I’ll call Mayumi-chan; I’m sure she can sneak in an appointment for you.”

He waves her hands away. “I just redid my roots two days ago,” he protests. “And besides, it’s my thing; I’m not changing it.”

“Ah,” she says, clearly disappointed. But then she smiles anyway. “Well, you’re so handsome. Touya-kun will be very impressed,” she assures him.

“Mom!” he yelps, and she only laughs.

***

It’s not a total disaster, the whole dressing-himself thing, though it does take Hikaru a second try to get everything straight and in the right place: on his first attempt there’s way too much of the nagajuban showing and the kaku-obi sags a bit in the back and he can almost hear Sai doing that huffy thing he used to do when he was trying not to laugh and it’s the thought of Sai, as sharp-edged as it is, that steadies his hands through his second attempt.

Sai would have liked to see him like this, he’s sure. Hikaru had always scorned the idea of dressing in kimono or even yukata but he sort of gets it now. Maybe he’ll have to look it up and see exactly what went into those Heian-era outfits; Sai wore layers upon layers that Hikaru had only seen hints of. Ancient court dress might be a little much for a match, but maybe for Halloween or something.

Though that’s a thought. Even being completely 100% honest about himself and his abilities he has to admit that he’s seriously, seriously kicking ass in the Tengensen, and he knows that if he is able to keep his focus and his drive that it will be him in the challenger’s seat in two months. Maybe he should do something special for it, if it happens. When it happens. Totally going to happen. So maybe instead of kneeling awkwardly for two days straight in a dorky uncomfortable suit he can do it with class in a kimono and hakama instead, and like his fan it’ll be one more thing that will connect him with Sai, one more tangible way to affirm Sai’s imprint upon the world.

Okay, so maybe Hikaru’s getting ahead of himself on that one. But he does look good, feel good, feel comfortable, even, and by all rights it should make him less nervous about going to see Touya except it doesn’t; the thought of Touya curls around his heart and squeezes and somehow it’s hard to breathe and his pulse races like he’s in the middle of a game tied all but moku-for-moku going into yose.

He finishes the rest of his preparations in a daze. He remembers to pack a pair of sneakers in his overnight bag but forgets entirely about the osechi his mother provisioned for him; he is saved only because she has placed the wrapped package on the side-table next to the entryway underneath a notecard with his name written in giant red katakana.

When he gets off the train at the stop nearest to Touya’s, it’s only 3:26. He walks as leisurely as possible through the neighbourhood, stopping to peer into shop windows until the shops give way to houses, but he’s still ten minutes early when he steps foot on the Touya grounds. He spends five minutes on the porch attempting to contemplate the garden as quietly and unobtrusively as he can until he figures it’s probably safe to knock.

Hikaru had really, really been hoping that it would be Touya who answered the door, but no such luck. When the door opens it is Touya’s mother who appears, resplendent in layers upon layers of beautiful, rich kimono. The outermost layer is a deep, dark red threaded with intricate silver designs that are mirrored in the delicate, reserved comb tucked into her hair. Hikaru has always liked Touya’s mother, who has never treated him with anything other than kindness and welcome, but she is so poised and perfect that for all of her softness and smiles Hikaru finds her by far the most intimidating member of the household, because at least he can make professional smalltalk with the former holder of five concurrent titles and this year’s Golden Star of China.

“Hikaru-san, welcome,” she says, voice warm. She smiles at him, and Hikaru tries really, really hard not to think compromising thoughts about her son in case she is, in fact, psychic, but he can still feel guilt creeping up on him as he offers with both hands the gift his mother prepared for him.

“Thank you for your kindness in inviting me. Please accept this small token of my gratitude,” he says with a bow, thankful that he has a moment to compose himself before having to resume eye contact.

When he straightens, he sees that the curve of her mouth has broadened and her eyes have crinkled in the corners, giving her eyes a familiar shape. Her eyes are dark where her son’s are light, but for a moment she’s become impossibly beautiful.

“It’s so wonderful that you were able to join us, Hikaru-san,” she says, leading him into the house past the kadomatsu and into the sitting room. “I’ll go fetch Akira-san; he should be ready.”

Hikaru keeps his hands flat at his sides through sheer willpower; he refuses to fidget. He’s always felt out of place at the Touya house; it’s always been too big and too quiet and too traditional. It occurs to him that there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here yet, and a moment is all it takes for him to slip into a panic as he frantically tries to recall Touya’s invitation and if Touya had actually said to be here for four o’clock or maybe he had said five or six or something and then Touya steps into the room and Hikaru’s thoughts slip from his mind as surely as water flows through fingers.

Touya is handsome, Hikaru knows, has known for longer than he’s been able to put a name to the warm breathless feeling the admiration of Touya’s beauty gives him. And yet Touya’s never quite seemed to have grasped that concept himself; all too often he masks his advantages with shapeless sweaters, with pleated pants, with garish patterns in absolutely abominable colour combinations.

To see Touya now, garbed in a midnight-blue kimono collared in gold and belted with a matching gold obi, imprints upon Hikaru a memory he will take with him to his grave. Touya’s height and regal frame make him a striking figure, and for the first time Hikaru notices the broadening of Touya’s shoulders. Touya has always been his father’s son and now at eighteen he’s finally starting to look it, though he still bears his mother’s precise mouth and her pale, smooth complexion.

Hikaru finds his eyes straying to the exposed column of Touya’s throat and his honest admiration starts to warm with less-than-pure thoughts of painting the shadows in the hollow of Touya’s collarbone with his tongue. Before his cheeks have a chance to betray him he forces his gaze back up to Touya’s.

“Wow,” he croaks. Then his eyes blow wide as soon as he realises he’s just said that out loud. “I mean, hi! Hello. Um. Touya,” he says, wondering if it’s too late to turn tail and run back to the train station.

“Shindou,” Touya says, voice just a little breathless. “It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean, likewise.”

“Akira-san, your father is in the study but if you’d like to play a game in your room before the other guests arrive I can bring you a pot of tea,” Touya’s mother suggests.

Touya gives her a shallow bow of his head in thanks. “Thank you; yes, we will,” he says to her, before turning to Hikaru. “Shall we?”

Getting out from under Touya’s mother’s gaze before he manages to find some new and inventive way to embarrass himself further sounds like just about the best idea ever at this point, so he nods. “Yeah, absolutely,” he says, gratefully following Touya back down the hall.

It’s not until they’re in his room and Touya is closing the shoji behind them that Hikaru realizes what it means that Touya’s mother has sent them off to be alone with a smile and her best wishes, and wonders if Touya will be pissed when he finds out that Hikaru’s parents knows about them. Not that it’s Hikaru’s fault; he didn’t say anything to her, not really, at least not until after she’d already guessed, and if Touya had wanted things to be secret then he should have said so, and Hikaru resolves to defend this point to the grave if Touya is going to argue with him about it. But then Touya’s hands are cradling his face and he is leaning down to press a kiss against Hikaru’s mouth and as Hikaru wraps his arms around him he forgets that he was supposed to pick a fight instead.

Hikaru breaks the kiss in order to pull Touya closer, burying his nose in Touya’s hair and breathing in the fresh scent of his shampoo and the faint trace of his aftershave and a warm, spicy scent that Hikaru thinks must be some kind of new cologne. Touya’s lips brush against his ear. “Shindou,” he murmurs. “You look amazing.”

“So do you,” Hikaru says, feeling hopelessly inadequate in being relegated to repeating Touya’s compliments, and instead tries to express his regard by lightly running his tongue along the shell of Touya’s ear. Touya’s breathing hitches, and when Hikaru lightly sucks on his earlobe Touya actually shivers in his arms.

“Oh,” Touya gasps. “I--ah--”

Hikaru brushes his lips down Touya’s neck, and is almost about to submit to the temptation to suck a kiss against his skin when he remembers what a very bad idea that would be with Touya’s mother coming back any minute and instead releases his hold on Touya and takes a step backwards. “Let’s play,” he says.

Touya only stands, taking a moment to seemingly consider Hikaru’s proposal. “Yes, let’s,” he says at last, kneeling at the goban.

Hikaru takes his place across from him, settling into seiza with the ease of long practise. It feels different, somehow; dressed like this he feels no temptation to slip into agura. He does, however, miss his fan, and he flexes his fingers to dissuade them from looking for it.

They nigiri, and Hikaru wins black. He plays the lower-right star point, and Touya needs only the briefest of moments to consider before playing the upper-left.

A few hands in, there is a voice at the door. “Akira-san,” Touya’s mother calls.

Touya gives him a brief smile before getting to his feet to open the shoji for his mother. “Thank you,” he says, stepping aside so she can set the tray next to the goban.

Even though it’s a holiday Hikaru hadn’t expected their spur-of-the-moment tea to be so thoughtfully and artistically arrayed: an exquisite russet clay teapot is paired with two matching small cups, a slender matsu branch laid upon the tray so that it curves against the cups in a protective embrace, and its refreshing scent mingles with the heartier warmth of the tea to create an experience of such rich dimension that even Hikaru can appreciate it.

“Wow,” he says. “This is really nice. Thank you very much.”

“But of course. You’re welcome,” she says, rising to her feet once more. “Take your time; we’ll be eating at six.”

“Thank you,” he says again, this time in concert with Touya.

“Enjoy your game,” she says, giving them a little bow of her head before leaving. She leaves the screen open, and Hikaru can scent the dinner ahead.

Touya pours him a cup of tea, which Hikaru accepts gratefully before returning the favour.

Touya takes a contemplative sip before playing his next hand, and from there the game takes slow, steady shape. As they play the sounds of the house begin to grow louder; by the time they find their way to yose and Hikaru finally resigns, the sound of laughter can be heard at regular intervals.

“Thank you for the game,” Hikaru says to Touya.

Touya’s expression is serene, though his eyes are bright. “Thank you,” he says, picking up the tray and getting to his feet. “Shall we?” he asks.

They stop off at the kitchen first to drop off the tray, but Touya’s mother waves them away with a fluttering dishtowel before they can offer assistance. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes,” she says.

Ogata’s wry drawl is the first voice Hikaru can discern as they reach the sitting room. “Unfortunately for Joudai-pro; if he chooses to focus on the Ouzasen next then I’m afraid Joudai-pro will take it as a personal insult,” Ogata says to general laughter.

Touya-sensei is first to notice their entry. “Ah, Akira, Shindou-kun,” he says. “Good evening.”

Hikaru offers him a quick bow of his head. “Good evening; sorry to intrude,” he says, excusing their late entry.

“Good evening father, everyone,” Touya says.

Ashiwara-san offers them both a brilliant smile. “Good timing; we were just talking about you, actually. Such a marvellous performance last week! How wonderful to have guaranteed yourself a seed in the Hon’inbousen next year; congratulations, Akira-kun!”

Touya bows his head. “Thank you.”

“I was just saying that we’re going to have to hire you a bodyguard; this is the second time you’ve knocked Joudai-pro off the ladder,” Ogata says with a laugh.

“I look forward to his efforts next year,” Touya says seriously.

“And you, Shindou-kun,” Ashiwara says. “We’re all looking forward to seeing the match-up between you and Kashikawa-san next month to determine the challenger for Tengen. What an exciting time for you to be joining us!”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Hikaru says, rubbing self-consciously at the back of his neck. “Joining what, sorry?”

“The study group,” Ashiwara clarifies. “We’re all so pleased to see you.”

Hikaru sneaks a quick look at Touya. “Ah--”

Ogata offers Hikaru an indulgent smile. “How rather fashionably belated of you. Has it been five years already? I still remember how indignant you got at the idea of studying with Akira-kun. What was it that you said? That he was your...” Ogata trails off, light glinting off his lenses as he adjusts his glasses.

There is absolutely no reason for that to be anything other than an innocent question but now to Hikaru’s guilty ears it just sounds impossibly suggestive. “Rival!” he blurts, staring straight ahead.

“Ah, yes; I do recall you saying you preferred the idea of fighting him to studying with him. And now that you’ve had the opportunity to do both?” Ogata inquires solicitously.

Hikaru swallows hard; there are no quick, pithy answers that come to him.

“Every game is an opportunity for study,” Touya says, coming to his rescue, and Hikaru would kiss him except for the part where he’s pretty sure he would get murdered by Touya-sensei.

Hikaru is saved from any further inquisition by the reappearance of Touya’s mother, who calls the attention of the room with a delicate “pardon me”.

“Dinner is served,” she advises with a bow. “Please come and make yourselves comfortable.”

Everyone filters into the dining room; Hikaru purposely drags his feet so he and Touya are in the back of the group so he can talk.

“So, um, how did I end up in the study group?” Hikaru asks.

Touya inclines his head towards him and they end up so close that Hikaru can smell the crisp winter plum scent of Touya’s shampoo. “It was a natural assumption: other than you and my mother, everyone here tonight is a participant, and she doesn’t play.”

“Wait; was I not supposed to come, then? You shouldn’t have asked me if I wasn’t supposed to say yes!” Hikaru hisses, elbowing Touya as subtly as possible.

Touya counters his elbow with a sharp poke in the side. “You were supposed to say yes! And you certainly don’t have to study with me if you find the idea so unappealing.”

“I already study with you! And it’s not unappealing, it’s just--I mean, you know what I mean,” Hikaru says, feeling as if he’s somehow ended up with his heels hanging over the edge of a pit. “I mean, you have your group and I have mine, right? Besides, I think Morishita-sensei would have me hunted down and killed for high treason,” he tries to joke.

“You have many compelling and valid reasons for not to attend,” Touya says calmly. “Too bad. It’s a shame; my father will be disappointed. He’s been looking forward to it for ages.”

By now they’re in the room and Touya is guiding him up near the head of the table so by necessity Hikaru falls silent, which is just as well since there’s nothing he can say other than possibly squeak ‘really?’.

Hikaru ends up sitting between Touya and Ashiwara-san, which is the best of all possible outcomes; he’s insulated enough that no one will probably try and talk to him except for Touya but they’re close enough to Touya-sensei that he’ll be able to hear the flow of the conversation.

Hikaru’s not quite sure what to do with the fact that sake cups are at all place settings, including his and Touya’s. He’s still wondering if he’s actually allowed to drink or if he’s just supposed to ignore it when Touya takes the nearest decanter and fills Hikaru’s cup. Courtesy demands he do the same to Touya, and while Hikaru doesn’t yet dare drink, Touya does. By the time the first course is over Touya’s cup is almost empty, so Hikaru refills it. Midway through the second course it’s empty again, so Hikaru refills it again, and decides that if it’s okay for Touya then it’s probably okay for him, so he takes a tiny sip of his own. It’s a bright, clear taste, with rich subtle undertones that linger even after he’s swallowed, and by the time the third course begins Touya is the one pouring into his cup.

The food is amazing, a delicious assortment of specialties prepared just-so, and as dinner carries on and bottles are emptied Hikaru’s surprised to find that the Touya group is actually pretty funny. He tries not to make an idiot of himself for once, though Ogata does attempt to needle him about a hundred times and even tells that stupid story about they met when Hikaru got kicked out of the children’s go tournament for kibbitzing. Hikaru’s more embarrassed than chagrined, though, and tries to explain the whole thing by repeating “I was twelve! I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to tell people when they screwed up!” at least three times.

Hikaru eats until he’s full, then eats until he’s absolutely fit to burst. Everyone around them is still nibbling so he probably can’t excuse himself yet so instead he sips at his drink and tries to affect a mature, grown-up demeanour. By the time people are getting up and talking about breaking out the goban Hikaru finds himself suffused with a rather pleasant warmth, one Touya shares if the faint flush along his cheekbones is any indication.

Touya’s mother disappears into the kitchen; Touya catches Hikaru’s attention and says, “Let’s help her, shall we?” He holds Hikaru’s gaze for several long seconds, and Hikaru finds himself grinning back at him with an undoubtedly ridiculous smile, and it’s all Touya’s fault because Hikaru had been doing a totally awesome job of pretending like he wasn’t pining after him until Touya went and kissed him two weeks ago.

Hikaru’s a little disappointed to miss the game arrangements but the way Touya’s mother’s expression lights up, warm and unreserved, when they come to help wipes that feeling away in its entirety. “Oh, goodness, boys, you certainly didn’t need to,” she demurs, but she surrenders her tray of snacks to her son with a smile and a gentle tilt of her head. Hikaru picks up a platter containing a staggering selection of pickles and follows Touya back out to the study to begin transferring the comestibles to the long tables set along the wall.

Touya’s mother has just finished placing the last cup on the tray of teacups when he and Touya return for the next set of trays. Touya picks up the tray of cups with a smooth, graceful surety, though Hikaru doesn’t miss how his eyes go wide when he sees the hanabiramochi on the tray Hikaru picks up.

“Hey, Touya,” Hikaru says, bracing the tray against his chest so he can use his now-free hand to pluck the topmost one and offer it to Touya, who opens his mouth and devours the treat with a delighted murmur. His lips brush against Hikaru’s fingers in what would almost be a kiss if Touya’s mom wasn’t standing in the kitchen next to them.

The mochi was kind of an unwieldy shape and Touya took it all in one bite and as he carefully chews his cheeks stick out like a chipmunk in such a shocking break from Touya’s usual perfect decorum that Hikaru finds himself grinning at Touya and Touya’s grinning back and all they do is gaze at each other for long seconds and oh God Touya’s mom is right there.

For a moment Hikaru almost panics as he wonders if he’s blown everything, but then Touya’s mom begins to giggle, her voice sweet and birdlike, and the roses blooming in her cheeks speak to the fact that someone’s been keeping her sake cup filled, too.

“Hanabiramochi have always been his favourite; we’ll have to make them together sometime, Hikaru-san,” she says, placing a hand upon Touya’s shoulder and squeezing fondly. Touya goes a brilliant scarlet but Hikaru can’t even tease him about it since he can feel his own ears burning.

“I’d love to,” Hikaru tells her sincerely, bowing his head in gratitude.

Two trips later, Hikaru intercepts Touya on his way to the last tray of senbei. “I’ve got it,” he says.

“Oh, Hikaru-san, let him take it; you can help Mother put these away,” Touya’s mom says brightly.

So he does, of course, and Touya takes himself and the tray to the study and Hikaru’s alone with Touya’s mom and wait, was she inviting him to call her Mother? It seems impossibly forward, but if she was it would be even ruder to refuse now that she’s put things out there like that. If she did. Which she might not have. And he’s got no clue if she even knows he and Touya are sort-of-dating-or-something and Hikaru is going to have to corner Touya at some point tonight and ask him just how subtle he’s supposed to be around his parents, and if the answer is very then he’s going to have to get Touya to stop touching his hands and the small of his back and stop giving him those half-lidded looks from just under his bangs and not to let his mouth get that tiny curve in the corner whenever Hikaru turns to look at him because he is making it really, really hard for Hikaru to not just blurt out his feelings every ten seconds. So instead Hikaru just blushes furiously and hands her things for her to put them in cupboards and in drawers and he resolves to just avoid altogether using sentences around her that require any form of address.

“I’m very glad you came tonight, Hikaru-san,” she says, favouring him with the kind of deeply sweet smile that only mothers are somehow able to summon. “Akira-san was so looking forward to it.”

“I was, too,” Hikaru says, ducking his head. “I mean, um, thank you for inviting me.”

“You are always welcome,” she says, folding the tea-towel and hanging it with careful precision. “Akira-san’s father and I are often away travelling nowadays. Akira-san is the independent type, but I have sometimes wondered if he gets lonely,” she says, looking up at Hikaru. “Not so much anymore, I think.” Her smile is soft, and Hikaru is saved from having to reply by Touya’s reappearance in the kitchen.

“Shindou,” Touya says, drawing his name out slightly in entreaty. “They’ve started. Come on,” he says, and grabs him by the hand and Hikaru’s heart begins to gallop as Touya leads him to the study.

Someone’s opened the sliding door to the garden, and a cool ume-scented breeze is keeping the room fresh and comfortable despite the crowd. Games are in progress at all four goban, observers milling throughout the room but mostly clustered in the middle around Touya-sensei and Ogata, who are kneeling at a beautiful golden goban that at first glance Hikaru can’t help but thinking must be kaya.

Touya gives a little hum of delight; “That’s Father’s master set,” he says, squeezing Hikaru’s hand.

“It’s beautiful,” Hikaru says. Ogata plays his stone, and the click of slate on the goban rings with crystalline clarity.

“The board and stones were presented to him by the Mainichi Shinbun after Father’s fourth straight defence when he became Honourary Meijin,” Touya says, voice shining with the simple, uncomplicated pride a son has in his father his hero.

Hikaru squeezes Touya’s hand back because Touya did it first and nobody’s looking at them anyway. “Your father’s really incredible,” he says, because even if no one’s paying attention to them Hikaru doesn’t think he can quite get away with saying ‘You’re really incredible’, at least not until later when everyone is much drunker. “Let’s watch,” he says, releasing Touya’s hand now before it becomes impossible.

They’re playing speed-go. Touya Honourary Meijin, Honourary Kisei, former Gosei, former Tengen, and former Juudan, is playing speed-go with Ogata Juudan Gosei on a kaya board with what are undoubtedly Hyuga clamshell and Nachiguro slate stones, both of them with sake cups next to them that the spectators are diligently keeping filled, and it seems so totally inappropriate that Hikaru bites his tongue hard to keep the laughter down. But it doesn’t take long before he’s pulled into the game, trying to predict the future as Touya-sensei and Ogata take turns placing down stones with lightning speed.

The two are quite well-matched, at least at first--Hikaru notes with fleeting disappointment that the opening moves must have been quite entertaining; he can see how Ogata’s daring aggressiveness had been immediately punished by Touya-sensei. Through chuuban the two play carefully, solidifying their territory. Then Touya-sensei plays a beautiful curving hand that encroaches insouciantly upon Ogata’s stronghold in the upper left and the game is over, only Ogata hasn’t realised it yet. Ogata draws the game out for another fifteen hands, and only then does he admit that he is outmatched. “I’ve lost,” he says, bowing his head and getting to his feet. “Who’s next?”

Touya-sensei lifts his gaze from the board and picks up his sake cup, indulging in a quiet sip. His eyes meet Hikaru’s, and then he smiles. “Shindou-kun, would you care for a game?”

Hikaru’s breath catches in his throat. He can see Kashikawa 8-dan giving him the stink-eye but there’s no possible way anyone could seriously expect him to turn down Touya-sensei; Touya-sensei hasn’t so much issued an invitation as stated his expectations. Hikaru’s surprised, excited, and more than a little nervous--he’s played Touya-sensei as himself only twice in all these years, and both times their sole observer was Touya. “Thank you very much,” he says with a bow before assuming the challenger’s position at the other side of the board. There is a familiar presence at his right side just behind him, and with a pleasant sort of fluttering surprise he notes that Touya’s followed him over, kneeling next to him the way Sai used to years ago.

Touya-sensei, as the defender, is white, so Hikaru takes black. “Please,” he says.

“Please,” Touya-sensei returns.

Hikaru plays.

Hikaru loves go in all its forms: the prescribed formality of his ooteai, the fiery vibrancy of his salon games with Touya, the slow thoughtfulness of his long-ago midnight games with Sai. But he’ll always have a special place in his heart for speed-go; however frivolous and pointless others might find it, he’s always enjoyed the frenetic pressure ten seconds a hand brings. Waya talks about how it’s all about honing one’s instincts and refining tactics and being the first to find the knife to twist but he’s rather missing the point, Hikaru thinks, and that’s probably why even now he still loses to Fuku half the time.

Speed-go is about letting go of the self and giving one’s self over to the stones, Hikaru figures. He can sublimate himself into the game and let himself fill up with futures that flicker in his mind’s eye like the flipbook manga he used to draw in the corner of his math texts. The fact that Touya-sensei may be lit like a house on fire has stolen some of his subtlety, true, but he didn’t achieve five titles simultaneously for any lack of a vital, murderous instinct for go.

They’re eighty hands in when he feels something twigging at him in the back of his mind, like a buzzing just outside of the range of his hearing or the faint itch he gets when he spends too much time in the dusty stacks of the kifu room. They’re working the right side at the moment, the two of them engaged in a delicate play for position, but he keeps finding his attention drawn to Touya-sensei’s formations on the left. Their shapes are strong, well-founded, though the invitation Touya-sensei might as well have issued against the bottom corner almost makes him think of shidougo before he spots the ghost of the simple, elegant closure Touya-sensei is sure to spin around him should he try.

But the top, he notes, has definite possibilities, and the whisper of a feeling very much like Sai is what guides him to sacrifice his one-stone advantage in their waltz on the right to instead play what Touya-sensei may simply see as a fruitless nozoki.

Touya-sensei’s face is firm and impassive, yet there’s a curving around the eyes that tells that he sees Hikaru as a mother cat sees the kitten batting at her tail.

That’s fine, Hikaru says, releasing his hold on his ego. He is used to being underestimated. Not by Touya-sensei, true, but this will end in one of two ways: in Touya-sensei being justified, or in Hikaru’s vindication. Both situations resolve themselves.

So he plays, building upon his strengths with a light hand, insinuating himself in the empty spaces delicately enough that as Touya-sensei tests him he can solidify his own holdings with the almost polite restraint of which Sai had been so fond.

They are a good hundred and sixty moves into the game when they have wound their way across the centre, his taneishi now perfectly positioned to allow him to play a tsumebiraki that Touya-sensei won’t have time to counter before Hikaru’s had the opportunity to establish a new path of his own.

Touya-sensei reaches into his goke for a stone, stones whispering against each other at his light touch, but then he pauses for several long seconds as he contemplates the board.

Surety flows through Hikaru with a clarity and a calmness; Touya-sensei no longer has the luxury of time. Hikaru will be able to build a second eye for his new formation no matter how Touya-sensei chooses to approach, and now the only question is how much further he will be able to encroach on what had previously been Touya-sensei’s territory. At a minimum he’ll be able to reduce it by three moku, four if Touya-sensei takes the ko on the bottom. And if Touya-sensei doesn’t take the ko then Hikaru can simply connect and form an unassailable foundation for a new offensive against the corner. Either way he’s shifted the game by at least seven moku, which would allow him a win by a minimum of two and a half moku.

Next to him Touya straightens, drawing a sharp breath. “Shindou,” Touya breathes.

A smile curves Touya-sensei’s mouth; he gives Hikaru an appraising look before placing his next stone. Hikaru’s not disappointed; Touya-sensei did note the apparent weakness in Hikaru’s lower left but that’s fine; Hikaru’s planned for that. He neutralizes the threat in the next three stones, and they play for another ten hands while Touya-sensei tests him in the lower right. Hikaru responds reservedly, carefully; he plays stone for stone, and Touya-sensei nods approvingly before bowing his head.

“I have lost,” Touya-sensei says, raising his gaze to meet Hikaru’s.

“Ah, Touya-sensei, what bad luck!” Kashikawa 8-dan exclaims. “That Shindou always manages to find his way by building with scraps,” he says with no little edge to his voice, and Hikaru is going to enjoy facing him next month in the final round of the Tengensen and cramming those words back down his throat.

Touya-sensei stands and takes a long, thoughtful sip from his cup. “It is not luck, no matter how fortuitous the outcome. Shindou-kun’s foresight and planning speak to his great ability to read not only the board but his opponent. Thank you for the game, Shindou-kun,” he says, turning to face Hikaru directly. “I am very pleased to have had the opportunity.”

Hikaru sets his hands on his thighs and bows his own head. “Thank you for the game,” he says quietly, sincerely, holding the moment for several long seconds before he begins to get to his feet.

Touya-sensei waves him back down. “Ah, Shindou-kun, now comes the difficult part: defending your position,” he chides him with a small smile.

“Ha!” Kashikawa 8-dan sneers, but before he can do more than bluster there is the susurration of fabric as Touya moves swiftly to the opposite side of the goban and kneels before Hikaru’s even had a chance to finish clearing the board.

“Play me,” Touya says, eyes dark.

“Defending the family honour, eh?” Ogata says with a chuckle.

“That’s the Touya fighting spirit!” Ashiwara-sensei cheers. “Do your best, both of you!”

Hikaru passes Touya the goke containing the slate stones and Touya’s fingers rest on his for so long that it can’t possibly be an accident.

He’s not going to blush in front of a dozen pros, no matter how hard his heart is already racing from accomplishing the impossible several times already tonight. He is never going to forget this night, and if this is a portent of the year ahead then he is probably not only going to make it into the Kisei and Hon’inbou tournaments proper, he’s going to smash his way through the Tengen finals and sweep Umemiya Tengen 3-0.

“Please,” they both entreat.

They sprint through the joseki, flirting stones against each other’s chosen stars and sketching territory in only the broadest of strokes before Touya throws himself headlong into battle with Hikaru over the lower-left corner. Hikaru would much rather spend a few more hands setting up his upper right but Touya is relentless. After almost twenty hands they’ve tangled each other up in a gorgeous, twining, libertine seki and only then does Touya move on--straight into Hikaru’s upper right, playing a ravenous tsuke that presses against his outlying stone with an almost lascivious hunger. Hikaru plays hazama, denying him the opportunity to cut, and Hikaru’s hand is barely clear of the board before Touya plays osae on the other side, the stone snapping on the kaya wood with a bright singing note that cuts sharply through the low din of laughter and chatter and the clinking of cups being refilled.

This is Hikaru’s second game of speed-go in a row and now, sitting across from Touya, he can feel the sweat beading at his temples and on his brow. His heart hammers in his ribcage and his chest is so tight he feels as if he can barely breathe and even though he’s pretty sure he can continue to parry Touya’s attacks he can’t find a way to break the pattern they’ve fallen into, no way to claim the pace of the game for his own.

It’s not until they almost hit yose that Hikaru finds himself right where Touya’s been chasing him this whole time: in a fatal double ko that must end in Hikaru losing the semeai he’d up to now been just barely winning, and with it the elegant little shape he’d been nurturing as a foothold to invade Touya’s stronghold on the bottom. He takes long seconds to admire the sprawling, vibrant beauty upon the board, to admire this testament to Touya’s tenacity and absolutely indomitable will, and he unballs his hands from the fists they’ve been clenched in for the last twenty hands and places them flat against his thighs before he bows his head and holds it until the ten-count inside his head expires. “I have nothing.”

“Shindou,” Touya says. When Hikaru looks up, Touya’s expression is outwardly serene but his eyes still blaze with the fires of their match. “Thank you for the game.”

“Thank you for the game,” he agrees, allowing the grin he feels inside of him to spill out and curve his mouth. Then he gets to his feet to allow the next person to take his place.

Touya rises as well. “Another game, Shindou,” he says in the familiar siren’s call that has kept them up ‘til sunrise on more nights than Hikaru can count. “Come on; we’ll use the goban in my room.”

“You can’t leave now!” Ashiwara-san exclaims. “I want to challenge you!”

“Sorry,” is all Touya says before he grabs Hikaru by the hand and drags him from the study amidst laughter and amused protests.

“Touya!” Hikaru protests, though he readily follows Touya through the house. “What are you doing? Come on, you’re supposed to be defending.”

“I’m done playing speed-go,” he says. “Besides, you’re the only one I want to play.” His tone is simple and uncomplicated without any hint of the coy or coquette, but it still sends a secret kind of thrill through Hikaru which he tries to firmly tamp down before he says something ridiculous in return.

When they get to Touya’s room, Touya shuts the shoji behind them with an artless clatter, hand still locked with Hikaru’s, before whirling upon Hikaru and cupping his face in his free hand so he can lean in and kiss him fervently.

Hikaru leans up eagerly, nesting his fingers in Touya’s silken hair. One kiss turns into two, turns into three, and Hikaru stops counting when his heels hit Touya’s unrolled futon and he tumbles backwards. Touya accompanies him down, albeit much more gracefully, one arm looped around Hikaru’s waist while the other runs down his hip.

“Hey,” Hikaru gasps, breaking their kiss. Touya, unfazed, trails kisses along his jawline and nibbles on Hikaru’s earlobe, following that up with a delicate little lick that makes Hikaru’s cock stir against Touya’s thigh.

“Shindou,” Touya murmurs, shimmying against him as if to tell Hikaru that yes, he definitely felt that.

“Um,” Hikaru says. “Um,” he repeats, trying to build some kind of conversational momentum as Touya sneaks one of his hands up Hikaru’s sleeve, fingertips dancing lightly at heated skin. “Wait! The game--” he protests.

“Hmm?” Touya asks, other hand giving Hikaru’s hip a squeeze.

Hikaru gives Touya a gentle push backwards so Hikaru can sit up. “The game; we were going to play a game,” he reminds him.

Touya blinks, eyes darting off to the side while he thinks. “Oh. Oh! I just said that to buy us an hour. So did you want to...” he trails off.

It takes Hikaru a moment to process exactly what that means. “Wait, so you--you don’t actually want to play?”

Touya’s brow furrows. “You want to play? Now? I mean, instead of...?” he trails off, lowering his gaze.

Hikaru is--he’s not entirely sure, really; he’s kind of disappointed that he won’t get to slow down and play a more leisurely game with Touya, and actually sort of appalled that Touya would use go as an excuse for anything, but on the other hand Touya’s sprawled across him and he feels and tastes and smells so good and Hikaru’s been wishing for hours that he had the good sense to jerk off before coming over this afternoon. “Both?” he asks hopefully.

“Then we’ll have to be quick,” Touya says.

“We’ll play speed-go. But after, yeah?” Hikaru agrees readily.

“After,” Touya confirms firmly, giving him a look of unreserved fondness. “Yes, all right,” he says, and then lunges forward so desperately that they knock noses on their way to the next kiss.

Touya’s got him pressed flat on his back, one hand on his shoulder holding him in place while he kisses Hikaru to within an inch of his life. His other hand is fumbling at Hikaru’s midsection, tugging at his waist, and it’s not until Touya’s already got Hikaru’s obi untied and has thrown Hikaru’s kimono and juban open so the cool air of the room rushes against his fevered skin that he realises that oh, Touya’s totally undressing him.

Hikaru’s already spent far too much time tonight with Touya denying him the chance to establish territory of his own so he reaches up and slips his hand between the halves of Touya’s kimono and nagajuban, under the thin cotton of his hadajuban, sliding his fingers across heated flesh. Touya murmurs something incoherent into his mouth, and Hikaru actually gets him to whimper when he rubs the pad of his thumb across one of Touya’s nipples.

Touya pulls back, breathing hard. His gaze rakes down Hikaru’s torso and before Hikaru can spare much thought other than being profoundly grateful that his mother just last month bought him a whole bunch of brand-new totally mature and completely unembarrassing underwear absent entirely of childish splashes of colours and shapes, his brain promptly short-circuits when Touya leans down and rubs his cheek against Hikaru’s clothed dick. Hikaru bucks his hips, hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets, and doesn’t quite manage to bite back his groan.

Touya sucks a wet kiss through Hikaru’s underwear before pulling back just enough so he can slip a hand down the front to cup him protectively before yanking Hikaru’s briefs down almost to his knees in one thrift movement, then completely off with a second.

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you all night,” Touya says, breath hot against the sensitive skin of Hikaru’s dick, and then he runs his tongue along it in a single langurous swipe.

“Oh my God,” Hikaru manages to say, fisting his hands in the sheets. “Oh my God, please, Touya, please, do that again--” and he chokes himself off with a moan when Touya first complies, then supersedes by sucking half of Hikaru’s length into his mouth, lips tight around him, tongue laving along the underside.

Dinner party, dinner party, dinner party, Hikaru reminds himself frantically. Touya’s parents and a good quarter of the title leagues are just on the other side of the house and if ever there was a time when he needed to be quiet now is it.

Hikaru bites his lip when Touya draws his fingertips lightly up Hikaru’s thigh, but when Touya’s graceful fingers wrap around the base of Hikaru’s cock and begin to stroke he can’t help the stuttering gasp that escapes him. “T-Touya--”

Touya makes an affirmative rumbling murmur Hikaru feels more than hears as Touya’s mouth vibrates around the head of his dick. Hikaru’s hips buck forward on their own but Touya is game, bowing forward and sliding his mouth down Hikaru’s cock to meet his hand.

Hikaru reaches forward to brush Touya’s hair back behind one ear. Touya’s eyelids flutter open, and being caught in Touya’s brilliant cerulean gaze is enough to send an unsteady tremor through his hand as he brushes his thumb along Touya’s cheekbone, to steal the air from his lungs as his breathing hitches.

“You’re really incredible,” Hikaru whispers at last. “You’re so, so handsome, and this feels amazing, and I just--I just really--” He breaks off, the words refusing to come, but the corners of Touya’s eyes curve upwards and maybe Touya already knows all the words he didn’t say.

Touya holds his gaze deliberately as he pulls back, cheeks hollowing as he sucks, tongue swirling around him, hand tightening and twisting around Hikaru’s cock in concert, and Hikaru tries so, so hard not to just let his brain blank out while he grabs Touya by the hair. Then Touya goes down again, then again, and the sight of Touya’s head bobbing between his legs in a steadily-increasing rhythm threatens to do embarrassing things to his self-control so Hikaru lets his head fall backwards as he shuts his eyes.

Without the distraction of sight, sound becomes more prominent: the wet slide of Touya’s hand on his spit-slick cock, the muffled panting as Touya breathes thickly through his nose, the occasional slurp as Touya’s lips slip and break his suction.

“Ohmygod,” Hikaru gasps, opening his eyes and giving Touya’s head a gentle push away. “Touya, Touya, come here--” and as Touya looks up Hikaru leans down, and even after their mouths meet in a wet, messy kiss Touya is still coming up, pushing Hikaru down flat on his back with a hand on his chest while the other glides in a tantalizingly loose grip around his cock.

Hikaru started the kiss but Touya is the one who’s taken control: he runs his tongue along Hikaru’s lips, slides it into Hikaru’s mouth, rubs it against Hikaru’s own. But then Touya pulls back again to place a chaste kiss against his mouth, then one on his throat, then one on his collarbone, and Hikaru’s cock flexes in Touya’s hand when Hikaru realises where this is going.

Touya continues to kiss his way down Hikaru’s chest and stomach, and the echo of his lips burns white-hot against the cool air of the room for an instant before the memory fades from Hikaru’s skin. Touya takes a moment to dip a teasing tongue into the well of Hikaru’s navel and as Hikaru shudders he’s pretty sure something so ticklish shouldn’t make his dick throb so hard.

Touya rubs his cheek against Hikaru’s cock before leaning down and licking a teasing kiss against the tip before trailing more kisses down to the base of his cock, swirling his tongue for emphasis. Hikaru is capable of just enough thought to be grateful for the hint he took from observing Touya’s personal grooming habits last time: the twenty awkward minutes he spent in the shower with a pair of scissors and a razor were well worth clearing the way for anything Touya might want to do down there with his mouth.

Touya’s other hand cups Hikaru’s balls, rubbing gently with his thumb. Then Touya’s mouth ventures further, lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his sac, and when Touya licks his tongue along the seam Hikaru can’t keep quiet any more.

“Touya,” Hikaru moans, the sound almost a whimper in his attempt at not losing all control. “Touya, you--ohgod--” he chokes off when Touya mouths one of his balls, sucking with delicate care. “Oh God, oh God--” And then Touya takes both of them into his mouth, tongue drawing slow looping figure eights around and between them, and the maddening spike of pleasure that shoots down into the base of him is so molten and bright that it almost hurts and Hikaru has to jerk away, pulling himself free of Touya’s mouth and keening.

“It wasn’t...?” Touya begins hesitantly, releasing his hold on Hikaru’s cock.

“It was, um,” Hikaru gasps, attempting to reboot the language centre of his brain. “Way, way too much. Oh my god, like, insane intense.”

“Can I try something else?” Nominally it’s a question but Hikaru’s heard the low, insistent note in Touya’s voice too many times not to be able to recognize the demand--Touya’s kept him captive on the other side of the goban for untold hours in which he’ll spin out possibility after possibility, one more supposition, one more quantum change that promises to send the whole board sliding into chaos.

“Please,” Hikaru whispers, letting out a long, slow sigh when Touya wraps his hand around Hikaru’s cock once more and resumes its moderate pace.

The delicate brush of the fall of Touya’s hair across his inner thigh foretells the kiss before he feels the brush of Touya’s lips on his skin, butterfly-light before Touya decides on a spot and then sucks.

Touya is ungentle and unsubtle, sucking hard with almost painful pressure--a hickey, Touya’s giving me a hickey, Hikaru thinks, though Touya chooses that moment to tighten the grip of his hand around Hikaru’s cock and increase the speed of his strokes and Hikaru’s mind goes hazy and he’s not really sure why he would even have needed to protest in the first place.

Touya finishes his ministrations with a kiss. “Shindou,” he murmurs.

Hikaru props himself up on his elbows and blinks rapidly, trying to chase the fuzz from his vision, and when Touya draws into focus he can’t help the silly grin that steals his mouth. “Hey,” he says.

Touya brushes his fingers across the mark that Hikaru can feel seared into his skin. “Tomorrow night, when you’re back at home alone, I want you to strip naked and look at your body and remember this. I want you to look at the marks on your skin and remember what it felt like when I put them there.” His voice is so low it could almost be a growl, aggressive and dark, and Hikaru is hit suddenly with the urge to soothe it all away.

“Tomorrow,” Hikaru says gently, reaching down to tuck Touya’s stray hairs away from his face and back behind his ear. “I’ll call you tomorrow. I want you to listen to me when I do it, okay? I want to tell you exactly what it feels like when I--when I touch myself.”

Touya’s breathing shudders and his hand tightens even harder around Hikaru’s cock. “Good,” Touya says, and leans down to lick the thick bead of pre-come off the head of Hikaru’s dick.

Hikaru sprawls back on the futon with a muffled thump, spreading his legs to give Touya all the access he needs. “Oh, Touya, please--”

Touya gives him another long, agonizingly slow stroke before he places a loud, deliberate kiss on the end of Hikaru’s cock. Hikaru tries hard not to writhe into him but Touya repeats the action, more quickly this time, placing his kiss lower down on Hikaru’s shaft. Touya works his way back down, and this time when he reaches Hikaru’s balls he merely places soft openmouthed kisses on each of Hikaru’s testicles.

Touya drags his tongue along Hikaru’s perineum and oh God, Hikaru hadn’t even known something could feel so good, could send pleasure roiling through him that he can feel all the way to his toes. Then Touya’s tongue ventures even further down, and Hikaru’s brain shorts out with a brilliant frissioning spark; he doesn’t know what sound he makes, doesn’t know what he’s doing with his hands, can’t do anything but feel Touya’s tongue on him there, the flat of Touya’s tongue slick and warm against his hole. Then Touya does it again and Hikaru arches his whole body off the futon, gasping, and Touya thwarts his efforts at slamming his legs closed by virtue of still being between them.

“Oh my God, what are you doing?” Hikaru breathes, trying so desperately to keep his voice down that he can’t bring himself to care that it’s jumped so high in pitch. Hikaru hadn’t even known that--that this was something people actually did; he’d only heard of people talking about it like it was a joke, not an actual sex act, but it’s happening, Touya’s head is bent between his legs and he’s sliding his wet tongue across Hikaru’s asshole and and the only fragment of a thought Hikaru can summon at the moment is that it shouldn’t even be possible for something so wrong to feel like this.

“Touya--” he sobs, jerking his hips upward. Touya doesn’t stop; with his other arm wrapped around Hikaru’s torso he can hold him so securely that Touya follows his every buck and tremble, allowing absolutely no reprieve from his maddeningly insistent tongue, punctuating his slick wet strokes with the increasing pressure of the tip of his tongue across Hikaru’s hole.

Rapidly Hikaru finds there are no more words inside of him, no way to tell Touya to stop, capable of only keening moans and gasps under the attentions of Touya’s relentless tongue. The most embarrassing part is that he can’t even pretend he’s not a horrible pervert since Touya’s hand is stroking his erection with increasing fervor and Hikaru can’t remember ever being this maddeningly hard. Touya’s grip is mercilessly tight and as Hikaru fucks Touya’s hand he can feel Touya milking the pre-come from him, can feel Touya’s thumb rubbing it around the tip of his cock so that his fingers slide through the slickness for lubrication as he works Hikaru’s cock.

Hikaru’s not really sure if he’s rocking his cock up into Touya’s fist or bucking down into the wet press of Touya’s tongue. He’s only barely starting to remember what it’s like to be capable of more than just mindless need when Touya stops his broader strokes entirely to focus on circling the tip of his tongue around and in zigzags across the tight ring of Hikaru’s hole.

He tries desperately to swallow down the desperate sounds he’s making but he has no vocabulary for this, no way to express how broken he’s become. All he can do is suck in a ragged, panting breath and hold it for long seconds, hoping desperately that he can find some measure of Zen.

Hikaru exhales, long and slow, and then Touya’s pointed tongue is ohmygod sliding into him, stroking inside of him, and Hikaru claps his hand over his own mouth to try and stifle the tortured howl that rips from his throat. Fingers are gliding over the head of his dick, one of Touya’s thumbs is rubbing the sensitive spot on the underside while Touya’s tongue is twisting, thrusting, writhing inside of him; Touya is fucking him, fucking Hikaru’s ass with his tongue and oh, he can’t handle this, can’t take this; if Touya doesn’t stop now he’s going to be ruined.

Hikaru dares to unmuffle himself. “Touya,” he gasps.

Touya makes a humming noise of acknowledgement that thrums deep within him and sends Hikaru writhing. “Touya!” Hikaru protests. “Stop, stop--you have to stop or I’m gonna come,” he sobs, arching his hips in an effort to pull away.

Miraculously Touya does stop, setting his hands on Hikaru’s thighs as he straightens up. Hikaru can feel himself trembling, knows Touya can feel him trembling, but he’s gulping down air in an effort to try and get himself some form of composure and that’s about all the control over his body that he can muster right now.

“That was what I had planned,” Touya says, looking insufferably smug. Hikaru thinks it can’t possibly be fair that Touya can look at him the same way in the bedroom as he does over the goban because the next time Touya is methodically identifying and breaking apart some tactical error Hikaru’s made he won’t be able to hear a single word because all Hikaru will be able to think of is this moment with Touya between his legs, hair ruffled and messy and everywhere, strands sticking to the sweat and saliva on his face.

“I, um,” Hikaru starts; now that he’s actually speaking aloud and forming the words inside his head it hits him hard just how stupid and girly and ridiculous this is going to sound, but he commits himself with a deep breath and says, “I wanted to come with you inside me,” in a blurted confession that brings a flush to his cheeks that isn’t from their recent exertions. Touya’s eyes go very wide, so before he can say anything Hikaru grabs Touya by the collar and hauls him up for a kiss, fingers scrabbling over his figure until he finds Touya’s obi and begins to carefully untie him. Hikaru thrusts his tongue into Touya’s mouth, kissing him harder and deeper as if it will erase what he said, and as Touya’s tongue battles with his it hits Hikaru hard that Touya has seen everything, has touched him everywhere, knows his go more intimately than anyone else, and in that moment Hikaru knows with a certainty that no one will ever know him as Touya does.

When they break for air Touya is gazing at him with the same intensity he brings to the goban; “Please,” he says, running a hand along Hikaru’s inner thigh. “I want to watch you get ready,” Touya says, a faint hint of pink rising in his cheeks. His fingers trail off Hikaru’s skin before he pulls back, leaning over to open the bottommost desk drawer. He grabs a strip of condoms, dropping it on the tatami next to them, then retrieves a small bottle of lube. Touya flips the cap open and pours some into his cupped palm before taking Hikaru’s hand in his and caressing it, rubbing and spreading the lube so it warms as it coats Hikaru’s fingers. Then Touya gently folds his fingers down so only Hikaru’s index is extended.

Hikaru feels an answering flush in his own cheeks; he’s done this alone, sure, but doing it in front of Touya is an entirely different thing. But Touya is guiding his hand downward to where he’s still slick with Touya’s saliva and Touya’s gazing at him with eyes at once both luminous and dark and Hikaru finds it next to impossible to deny Touya at the best of times so Hikaru draws a ragged breath and pushes. His finger slides in without any resistance, as Touya’s attentions have left him boneless and relaxed, so he pulls it out and slides in two. Touya lets out a breathy little sigh and reaches down to give himself a squeeze.

Belatedly Hikaru realizes that he hasn’t been touching Touya at all, not like Touya’s been touching him, and he feels like the world’s worst boyfriend. “Hey,” he says, only it comes out stuttering and high-pitched like he was fourteen again.

Touya’s eyes are still on his hand, so Hikaru pulls his fingers out again with a little gasp that he just barely manages to bite down upon, and only now does Touya’s gaze rise to his face. “Um, so, I wanna suck you while I do this,” Hikaru says, “so come here. Also, get more naked, ‘cause I really don’t want to be responsible for wrecking your clothes.”

Touya lets out a silent huff of laughter as he gets to his feet. He divests himself of his kimono in a single smooth motion, shoulders rolling in a movement too elegant to be called a shrug, then gives it a simple fold before hanging it over the back of his chair. Touya’s nagajuban is brilliant, a bright goldenrod grounded by a pattern of royal-blue cranes in flight that sweeps from the bottom hem up to his chest, though Hikaru has little time to admire it before Touya has slipped that off as well. The hadajuban is next, and as Touya pulls it over his head his body arches and curves exquisitely, jutting his pelvis and drawing even more of Hikaru’s attention to the way Touya’s erection tents his suteteko.

Almost painful need shivers through Hikaru; seeing Touya undressing for him is pretty much the most amazing thing that’s happened to him ever and if Hikaru can’t get his mouth around Touya’s dick soon he’s pretty sure he’s going to die. “Come here,” he says, getting to his knees and reaching out for him. With the next step Touya is his again, and Hikaru pulls Touya against him, grabbing the waistband of his suteteko with both hands and dragging it down Touya’s hips and thighs to free Touya’s erection. Hikaru leans up and sucks the tip of Touya’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and along the slit.

“Wait!” Touya protests, request lacking any sort of weight it might have had due to the breathy, shaky hesitation in his voice. “I--” he starts, interrupting himself with a groan as Hikaru wraps his lips more tightly around him and sucks him in deeper. “Oh, I--I really do want to--watch you,” he says, resting his hands on Hikaru’s head, threading his fingers through Hikaru’s hair. “Touch yourself. So if we need to move--”

‘No, we’re good’ is what Hikaru would say if his mouth wasn’t full, but it is, so instead he makes what he hopes is a pleasantly affirmative sound and spreads his knees wider before reaching behind himself to press two fingers inside himself slowly, fingers first pressed on top of each other, then sliding beside each other to continue stretching himself for Touya.

Touya thrusts his hips forward and tugs Hikaru’s hair, encouraging him forward. Hikaru wraps his free hand around the base of Touya’s cock to keep himself from accidentally taking him in deeper than he can handle and lets Touya dictate their rhythm, focusing on maintaining a constant, steady suction as he laves his tongue against the underside of Touya’s cock.

“Shindou,” Touya gasps, fingernails scraping exquisitely against Hikaru’s scalp. “Please, yes, keep doing that, let me watch you--”

Hikaru’s found his rhythm now, rocking wantonly back against his own fingers and forward to take in more of Touya. Hikaru sucks him hungrily, moaning as he slips a third finger inside himself.

“You look so good, so good,” Touya whispers, voice hoarse as he tries to keep his voice low. “God, I want you so badly.”

Hikaru slides his mouth off Touya’s cock, a glittering strand of pre-come trailing from his lip and connecting them until he snaps it with a swipe of his tongue. “Touya,” he says, pulling his fingers out of himself. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Touya falls to his knees in front of Hikaru. “Please,” he breathes, leaning in and stealing a kiss from his mouth. “Please,” he repeats, lips brushing against his.

“How--” Hikaru starts, and it’s kind of silly to feel self-conscious about anything at this point but he can’t help it. “How do you want this? I mean, should I get on my knees again, or...?” he trails off.

Touya’s fingertips glide down the line of his jaw. “Face to face?” he asks, sounding almost hesitant in his breathlessness. He sits back, spreading his legs and giving his cock a long, slow stroke. The tip is wet with pre-come, glistening in the light of the room.

Hikaru nods, not trusting himself with words right now. He reaches for the condoms Touya had dropped next to the futon, tearing one packet off the end of the strip and opening the wrapper with shaking hands, the sound of the crinkling foil almost interminably loud in the contemplative quiet of the room.

Touya’s eyes are burning so brilliantly blue that they almost seem fake, unreal, like chips of sapphire set somehow into contact lenses. Hikaru shifts closer, condom in hand, and as Touya’s cock visibly twitches Hikaru watches as Touya’s irises blacken with the dilating of his pupils.

“Can I...?” Hikaru asks, reaching forward tentatively.

Touya’s tongue darts out to wet his lip. “Please,” he whispers hoarsely, letting go of his cock and leaning back to brace himself on his hands. “Please, I want--I need--”

Hikaru takes Touya’s cock in his hand and rolls the condom on, biting his lip as Touya moans at his touch. He fumbles for the bottle of lube but manages to get the lid open and pour some in his hand, a little too much actually, and it drips from his palm to the futon under them.

Touya hisses softly at Hikaru’s touch. “Ah, cold!”

Hikaru strokes his slick hand along Touya’s sheathed length. “Sorry,” he says, offering him an apologetic look.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Touya says, leaning in to press a quiet, closed-mouth kiss against Hikaru’s lips. “Ready?”

Hikaru straddles Touya’s hips, rising high up on his knees. “Yeah,” he says, reaching down to grasp Touya’s cock and guide it so the tip is brushing against his hole. Shutting his eyes, he sucks in a shaky breath and lowers himself on to Touya, whimpering as the thick head pushes in.

It’s easier than it had been the first time but Touya’s still a lot longer and thicker than Hikaru’s fingers so they go slowly. Hikaru’s thighs start to burn with the effort; he wraps his arms around Touya’s shoulders and pulls him close.

Slowly Hikaru draws himself back upwards, then back down, establishing a shallow, steady rhythm. Touya is shaking in his arms, Touya’s hand is scrabbling at his back, Touya’s mouth is sucking and biting at the base of his neck, but all of it are almost like fading ghosts compared to the sharp, million-hued reality of Touya’s cock inside him, hard and hot and thick.

Touya rocks his hips into Hikaru’s tentatively, then with more vigour when Hikaru tilts his head up and claims Touya’s mouth with his own. Touya’s hand finds his waist, fingers curling against his hips, and before long they’ve found a new pace, rapid and frenetic and harder than Hikaru would have ever thought possible; Touya’s all the way in, filling him with every down stroke and making him ache with need with every up.

Touya’s hand slides between them and when he grasps Hikaru’s cock he moans so loudly that even muffled as he is by Touya’s mouth he can’t help his momentary flash of panic. But momentary is all he can manage as Touya starts jacking him off blindingly fast; he writhes on Touya’s cock as pleasure overwhelms him, all his muscles tightening as Touya strokes him and fucks him and kisses him and it’s almost more than he can bear.

Then Touya lets go of his cock and rises up with a sudden jerk; before Hikaru can register what’s happening Hikaru lands on his back with a thud that forces the air from his lungs and leaves him lightheaded and dizzy. Touya’s still inside him and the sudden change in angle drives a sharp new thread of need through Hikaru.

“Touya,” Hikaru moans, arching his back, offering himself up to him. “God, Touya, please, please--”

Touya’s holding him down, holding Hikaru’s legs up; Touya’s panting, moaning, nearly sobbing with need as he pounds into Hikaru so fast and so hard that Hikaru can feel his balls slapping against Hikaru’s ass.

Touya’s voice is ragged and rough. “I’m close, I’m so close,” he moans, grinding his hips into Hikaru’s. Hikaru grinds back, rocking against him, his cock pressed tight between their stomachs, and Hikaru’s close too, heavy and aching with need.

“Shindou,” Touya whispers, voice thready and hoarse. “Shindou,” he moans, more desperate. “Shindou--!”

Touya buries his teeth in Hikaru’s neck as he moans, shuddering and trembling, and Touya’s coming, coming inside of him, and Hikaru needs only a few more thrusts before he’s coming too, pulse after pulse of hot, ropy come that he shoots all over their chests, smearing messily as Touya collapses on him and pulls him into an almost bone-crushing hug.

It takes a long time before Hikaru comes back to himself, and it’s only because he finds his breathing naturally matching Touya’s slowing pace that he finds his calm at all.

“Hey,” Hikaru whispers gently.

“Hey,” Touya murmurs against his shoulder, pressing a kiss against it. “You’re amazing.”

He tightens his grip around Touya. “I’m, um. Totally in love with you,” he says, stuttering over the words he hasn’t dared let himself think since he admitted it to Waya last Saturday. It feels vital, necessary, like if he doesn’t say it he’s going to do nothing for the rest of the night except think it over and over like a mantra or a prayer.

Touya pulls back just far enough so that he can lean back in and kiss Hikaru on the mouth, letting his tongue run gently over his bottom lip. “I love you,” he says. “I love you. I’ll tell you a hundred times every day so you won’t ever forget.”

After what they’ve just done, with Touya’s soft cock still inside of him and connecting them, Hikaru should probably be immune to blushing, and yet he feels an all-too-familiar warmth in his cheeks. “I’ll never forget,” he says quietly.

“Just in case,” Touya says, giving him one last kiss before sitting up and pulling out at last.

Touya’s disposing of the condom when Hikaru finds the energy to bring himself up to a sitting position. He can’t help but admire his handiwork: Touya’s hair is mussed and everywhere, lips full and pink from their kisses, and Hikaru’s come paints him in a messy smear from his dark thatch of pubic hair, across his torso, and even spattered on his collarbone.

Hikaru gives himself a quick glance; he hasn’t fared much better. “There’s no possible way we can sneak in a shower, is there?” he asks hopefully.

Touya turns back and gives him a smile. “Probably not, but I did think of that. Here,” he says, pulling open his bottom desk drawer and taking out a box of disposable oshibori, retrieving a napkin for himself to wipe down first his face, then his body.

Hikaru grins, grabbing one for himself. “Always twenty moves ahead, huh?” he teases, cleaning off the sweat and other products of their endeavours and relishing the cool, refreshing scent left on his skin.

“I do try. Speaking of which, would you care to play?” Touya asks.

Hikaru laughs. “You’re going to have to give me a nine-stone handicap if you’re going to play me naked.”

Touya gives an amused huff. “I suppose we ought to get dressed first,” he says regretfully.

“Ooh, yeah, probably,” Hikaru says, turning to take inventory of his discarded clothing. “This might take a while.”

It could be sort of funny that it’s actually kind of more embarrassing to be dressing in front of Touya than it was to have undressed, but it’s a lot easier to look like a clueless idiot when his brain is still so pleasantly muddled that he can’t remember half the tips his mother attempted to instill in him.

Touya is already pulled together and perfect by the time Hikaru gives up fumbling with his nagajuban. “Argh; I hate this stupid thing,” he complains.

Touya gives him an appraising look. “May I help?” he asks.

Hikaru heaves a desperate sigh of relief. “Please!” he entreats, offering himself into Touya’s care. Touya works magic with his hands, and by the time Touya has put him back together he looks remarkably respectable, kimono hanging smooth and straight and even, obi taut and sharp.

Touya’s already dressed, but Hikaru makes a token attempt to return the favour by running his hands through Touya’s hair in a serious and surprisingly decent effort at returning it to its usual magazine-perfect order.

“There,” he says, reviewing Touya’s appearance and finding nothing that will definitively give away how they’ve been spending their time. “You look perfectly respectable.”

“So do you,” Touya says, leaning in to press a long, slow kiss against Hikaru’s mouth. “Shall we play?” he asks.

So they do, Hikaru taking black against Touya’s white, and despite their earlier agreement on speed-go they end up playing slow, thoughtful hands, letting the game take leisurely shape upon the board.

There is a cheerful chirping from the vicinity of Hikaru’s overnight bag; Hikaru’s focused so intently upon the board that it takes Touya asking him “is that your phone?” before it intrudes upon conscious thought.

“Huh?” Hikaru asks. “Oh, yeah, I guess so,” he says, and goes to answer it.

It’s his mother; she and his father are comfortably ensconced at the resort and she just wanted to check to make sure he was enjoying his night. Hikaru looks up at the clock on Touya’s desk; it’s 11:07 already, he realises with only a hint of embarrassment.

Hikaru gets through the conversation with the minimum amount of chatter, assuring his mother that he’s enjoying himself and not being a bother to the Touyas and that he’ll be fine in the house alone for the rest of the week and will remember to eat the leftovers and lock the doors and turn off the heat before he leaves every morning. “It’s getting close to midnight; we better go,” he says. “I love you, Mom. Tell Dad I love him too.”

“Love you too, sweetheart, and here, tell him yourself,” she says, and there are muffled, scruffy noises for seconds as she passes the phone over.

“Hikaru,” his father says.

“Um,” Hikaru says. “Hi, Dad. How’s it going?”

“Well,” he says. “We went snorkling today; I took some pictures of your mother amidst the fish.”

“That sounds pretty awesome,” Hikaru says, picking at the bottom of his obi.

“And you? How has your evening been?” his father asks.

“Fine. Lots of go and stuff,” he says. “So is it dinner time there, or what?”

“It’s just after four AM,” he says.

“Gah!” Hikaru exclaims. “I’m totally keeping you up!”

“It’s no trouble; your mother and I didn’t want to miss bidding the year farewell with you,” his father says.

“Oh, um, thanks,” he says, toeing the seams between two tatami mats. “I’ll call you guys later when it’s your turn.”

“We’d like that,” his father says.

“Good,” he says. “Um, so Touya and I were just gonna go head back to the party, so I should let you and Mom get back to sleep. I’ll call you guys back later,” he repeats.

“Ah, of course you can’t miss that,” his father says mildly. “Please give Touya-kun our best wishes. Perhaps you could also ask him if he’d like to come over for dinner soon; I’d like to meet him.”

Hikaru looks reflexively over at Touya, who raises an eyebrow in inquiry. “Um, yeah, sure, absolutely. Okay, bye Dad!” Hikaru babbles, hanging up and tossing his phone haphazardly at his bag.

“So, um,” Hikaru says, returning his attention to Touya. “I can’t believe it’s so late already. Want to head back?” he asks.

Touya rises to his feet. “All right; we’ll finish our game later,” he says agreeably. “Mother is probably ten minutes from coming to get us for soba, anyway.”

The atmosphere in the study is relaxed and convivial when they return, quieter than the exuberance of before. Everyone has broken into one of three groups: a few sit just outside on the porch smoking in the crisp night air, others crowd around the snack platters and chatting gregariously in a way that is keeping Touya’s mom in giggles. Touya draws him forward to the third group, who are surrounding the lone remaining goban in the middle of the room. Kashikawa 8-dan and Matsuda 6-dan sit on either side but it is Touya-sensei who holds court; the game is apparently over and Touya-sensei is pointing out a particular battle and making comments that garner a steady series of nods and thoughtful looks from the observers.

“Welcome back,” Ogata says from behind Hikaru, blindsiding him so completely that Hikaru gives a start. “How was the game?”

“In chuuban,” Touya says, expression serene. “We thought we should rejoin the party for midnight,” he says. His hand squeezes Hikaru’s hand as if to point out that he hasn’t let go yet, so Hikaru squeezes him back. Then Touya laces his fingers with Hikaru’s and his mouth curves from the hint of a smile to one in full bloom. Touya’s thumb glides over the back of Hikaru’s hand in a surprisingly intimate caress, and Hikaru can’t help the blush that comes unbidden to his cheeks.

“Who’s winning?” Ogata asks; for a moment Hikaru had forgotten the older man was there. But Ogata’s not looking at him; instead, he’s looking down.

At their hands. At Hikaru and Touya holding hands like a couple of lovesick teenagers--which, yeah, okay, is pretty accurate, actually, but it’s not really the sort of thing Hikaru had ever expected Touya to allow in public. Except Touya’s been doing it all night, standing close and touching him and smiling at him and oh my God, he thinks. This is really happening. We’re dating. We’re dating, officially dating, and everyone is going to know.

Ogata raises his gaze up to Hikaru’s, his expression curving into what could only be termed a smirk.

“It’s going to be close,” Hikaru says. “Right now Touya’s winning, but he doesn’t know what I have planned after we finish fighting over the top--you’re going to make the second eye, by the way, but you’ll only gain three moku.”

Touya gives an amused little huff. “Four moku, thank you--don’t think I don’t know you planned to creep in at 8-4. I imagine you want me to assume you’re going to turn on my shape in the lower left, but you’re really planning to extend from your formation in the middle right up into my shape there, aren’t you? Which is a nice idea, if I couldn’t just play the hinge at 16-9.”

Satisfaction and delight stir into a wonderfully effervescent warmth inside Hikaru. “I told you you didn’t see it. No, not at all; like you said, you’d play 16-9. I could reduce your gain by going 17-2, then 17-4 after you intervene with 16-12. But then we’d just end up getting dragged into the ko war that would be created at 18-12, and by the time we settled that it would be a huge waste of stones. What I was going to do was play the corner at 8-14--”

Touya’s cheekbones begin to flush with the beginnings of his customary annoyance at what he thinks of as Hikaru’s more outlandish schemes. “There’s no way you can connect those groups. I’d play at 10-10; you could get a second eye by playing 10-14, but your territory gain is negligible given that I still have full control just underneath. At least by going to the right you can disrupt my territory there by forcing the seki--”

“No,” Hikaru interrupts. “I told you; I’ve got nothing to be gained there; if I leave it alone I can keep my territory there and I can afford you keeping yours, because instead I’d play at 8-18.”

“But--” Touya begins, instinctively ready to argue the point, but Hikaru can see the futures flitting about in Touya’s mind’s eye as Touya considers the move. “But if I--no, that won’t--but then you can--no,” he says slowly. “Even if I play 9-16, you’ll play 8-14, and vice versa. And you only need one. Oh my God; you let me win that ko,” he says, realization dawning. “You wanted me positioned there so you could do this.”

Hikaru can’t help the undoubtedly ridiculous grin he can feel. “Yeah, I knew the rest would be doable if I could get that set up. For the top I knew you’d pull the corner to finish the eye, so I could just leave that alone. And if you hadn’t made the first move against my shape at 6-14, I could just start reinforcing from 4-14 and then you’d have to cut, or I could have broken in at 6-16 and that whole group would be dead.”

“Shindou,” Touya breathes, understanding and maybe even a little admiration painting over the irritation still underlying his features. It’s not a look Hikaru can even see often enough, and he knows he’s going to spend the rest of his life chasing it.

“Sounds like an interesting game,” Ogata drawls. “I’d be very interested in seeing the board. Would you care to show me?”

“Of course,” Touya assures him, so they pull one of the other goban back into service and begin laying out the game. Touya’s expression is even as he focuses on his task, placing the stones with a graceful elegance until he gets to their break point. Then Hikaru takes the goke of black stones, and the fight begins.

He feels more than sees the line of tension cording taut within Touya as the first iteration goes almost exactly as Hikaru foretold; he watches Touya’s eyes flicker rapidly as he tries to find some alternate route that will spell death for Hikaru’s stones. But Hikaru’s planned this out carefully, has spent almost all of chuuban drawing Touya into this particular web, and at this point all Touya can do is minimize Hikaru’s gain.

“I’ve lost,” Touya acknowledges with a curt nod of his head. “But let’s go back and let me try something.”

Hikaru can’t help but admire the delicate wristbones shown off to such great effect by Touya’s outfit; he finds himself paying more attention to the subtle shifting of bones and tendons under thin pale skin than to the movement of the stones upon the board as Touya winds the game all the way back to when he settled that fateful ko.

They’ve gotten through almost twenty moves when Touya’s mother’s voice rings brightly through the din. “Good evening, everyone!” she calls, drawing the attention of the room. She stands with Touya-sensei by the newly-replenished tabled tray of sake, and almost as one the party draws forward to take a fresh cup, shuffling around the table to form a rough circle. Touya and Ogata get to their feet, so Hikaru follows suit. Touya takes a cup for each of them, offering it to Hikaru. Touya doesn’t drink, however, so Hikaru simply holds on to his cup.

“Thank you so much for joining us tonight. It makes my heart glad to see so many familiar faces, particularly nowadays when my husband and I spend so much time away. We are so fortunate to bid farewell to the old and bid welcome to the new in the company of those who are so dear to us. Please join me in a toast,” Touya’s mother says, raising her cup. “To another year of your friendship,” she says, taking a delicate sip.

Hikaru watches Touya out of the corner of his eye. Touya brings his cup to his lips so Hikaru does as well, taking a drink.

Touya’s mother turns her attentions to the person on her left. “Ah!” Ashiwara-san says, tugging at his tie with his free hand. “My turn already? Ah, well, then, let’s toast the hospitality of our hosts the Touyas, and bid them good health!”

Hikaru drinks again. “Yes, you’re going to get a turn to say something,” Touya murmurs in his ear, lips so close Hikaru can feel their warmth. But before Hikaru can think to protest or demand to know why Touya couldn’t have warned him sooner, Kashikawa-pro has raised his own glass. “To the continued successes of the students of the Touya school!” he cheers.

After that Hikaru finds it hard to pay too much attention to each individual toast; he drinks automatically on cue while frantically trying to prepare his own. Pretty much all of the decent proposals have been used by the time their turns arrive. Hikaru is up first; the eyes of the room are on him and when Touya’s lips curve to offer him a smile, Hikaru’s mouth goes dry and his mind goes blank of all declarations except for a quiet litany that whispers ‘I’m so in love with Touya’.

Hikaru’s life has narrowed with laser precision to two things, Touya and go, but it feels more like just one thing that Hikaru can express in two superficially different but intrinsically identical ways. Not like Sai, whose devotion to go was so pure and uncomplicated that it endured for over a thousand years.

And he knows now what to say; thank you Sai for always knowing what to do.

Hikaru raises his cup, and proposes “To the pursuit of the Hand of God,” and the room erupts with an approving roar.

Touya has the penultimate toast. He waits only long enough to gain the room’s attention, then raises his cup with a smile. “To finding the one who’ll race towards it with you,” he says, gaze steady on Hikaru’s as he drinks.

Suddenly there’s a hole in Hikaru’s chest like his heart has fallen out and the room is too small and too hot and for long moments he forgets how to breathe; he’s falling, madly and desperately, even deeper into love than he’d ever thought possible but then again the impossible seems to find him over and over again.

It’s not until Touya-sensei speaks, voice dark and strong, that Hikaru can acknowledge a world outside of Touya. “To the bonds we’ve chosen to forge for ourselves, and to our families, old and new,” Touya-sensei says, and Hikaru could almost swear that his eyes meet his for a heartstopping moment before he tilts his head back to down the rest of his cup in a single shot, the rest of the room following suit.

Hikaru has only enough time to set his empty cup down on the tray before Touya’s leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Shall we go to the garden? We’ll be able to hear the shrine bells at midnight,” he says, breath warm and sake-sweet.

They walk past the cluster of smokers, each taking a pair of zori from the neat line along the porch. This close to midnight there’s an almost palpable pleasant tension in the air from anticipation, and there is no need to fill the moment with words as they walk around the koi pond.

In the distance there is the crackle and snap of fireworks being set off across the neighbourhood. Somewhere closer a bell tolls, low and booming and bright, its echoes barely fading before the next ring, and the next, and the next.

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” Touya says, and when Hikaru turns to look at him Touya’s looking not up to the heavens but instead towards him, catching his gaze with a warm, gentle smile.

“It’s going to be a good year, I think,” Hikaru says. It will be: he’s finally going to pick up 5-dan, Touya’s set for his 6-dan promotion and is probably going to get the award for best win-loss ratio again this year, they’re sure bets for the Hokuto Cup, this will be Touya’s first year to be seeded into the Meijin, Tengen and Hon’inbou tournaments, and Hikaru is absolutely certain that he himself will be facing off against Umemiya Tengen for his title.

“Yes,” Touya says, raising a hand to stroke his fingertips lightly down the line of Hikaru’s jaw in a featherlight touch that sends a glittering spark of lightning down Hikaru’s spine. “I’m glad to be welcoming it together with you,” he says, and leans in to press a kiss against Hikaru’s mouth.

It’s impossible to think that all of this started barely two weeks ago; kissing Touya back is a reflex ingrained in him like placing a stone, like spreading the panels of his fan, and it’s with the same immeasurable surety that his hand finds his way to Touya’s waist.

Their kiss is openmouthed but unhurried, languid and liquid, and Hikaru thinks he could probably do this for hours, could spend an entire day kissing Touya just like this, could devote as much time to learning the secrets of Touya’s mouth as he does learning the secrets of his hands.

“Don’t get carried away, kids,” calls Ogata in a casual drawl that pierces the dreamlike mood and startles Hikaru into jerking away from Touya.

He can feel his cheeks burning, knows he must be only seconds from bursting into flame. Touya’s hand on his hip is the only thing that keeps him from finding some excuse to dash off.

It had felt impossibly daring before when he had held Touya’s hand in front of everyone, and that had required the better part of a bottle of sake and a heady flush of oxytocin. But it’s done now, they’ve laid their stones, played their hands, and sooner or later Hikaru is going to have to stop staring at his feet and face the world.

“Oh, Seiji-san, don’t tease. Surely you remember what love feels like,” says Touya’s mom, tone light.

Hikaru’s head snaps up. Touya’s mother is smiling. Her head is tilted towards Ogata but her eyes are towards them, and when their eyes meet her smile broadens and for the first time he sees her smile brighten with a brief flash of teeth.

“All right, everyone!” she calls. “Time for pictures!”

***

Hikaru makes it through the next half hour in a daze. Touya pulls him along, holding his hand, capturing his attention, and somehow Hikaru manages to get through pictures and cheer. Finally the house begins to empty, guests leaving in their cars or in taxis, and it’s time to retire for the night.

Hikaru follows Touya to his room with only minor trepidation. “Is it really okay that I stay in your room?” he asks quietly so his voice won’t carry down the hall.

“Of course; don’t you always?” Touya asks breezily, laying out the second futon next to his own, then beginning to disrobe.

“Yeah, but...” Hikaru trails off, following suit. He makes his best attempt at folding his garments into a pile is close enough to being tidy before pulling on his cotton yukata.

Touya puts on his own yukata, though the chest hangs just loosely enough that Hikaru could slide his hand through to touch bare skin. He’s just about to give in to temptation and show Touya why exactly he probably shouldn’t stay in Touya’s room anymore when there is a gentle voice at the door.

“Akira-san, Hikaru-san?” Touya’s mother calls.

“Come in,” Touya says, and Hikaru tries to put on his most innocent expression.

She opens the shoji. “I just wanted to let you know that we were thinking to head to the shrine around nine tomorrow morning. Will that be all right?” she asks.

“Yes, that sounds wonderful. We’ll look forward to it. Good night, Mother,” Touya says, bowing lightly.

She bows back. “Good night,” she says. “And good night to you as well, Hikaru-san.”

“Good night!” he says hastily, making sure to bow back.

Touya goes to close the shoji, but his mother stops him with the same sort of clucking tsk noise that Hikaru’s own mother makes. “Acchan, you know the rules,” she says, voice light.

It takes a second for it to click inside Hikaru’s brain exactly what he’s heard. “Acchan?” he repeats faintly, just as Touya protests with an exclaimed “Mother!”

Touya’s mother giggles. “Oh, I’m very sorry, Akira-san,” she says, enunciating every syllable of his name and honorific with exaggerated precision. “Door open, please--”

Touya sighs. “And two feet between the futon. Yes, I know. Thank you, mother.” he says, sounding as if he’s doing his level best not to sound aggrieved.

She darts forward and pecks a kiss on Touya’s cheek. “Thank you, dear,” she says, then steps back into the hall.

Hikaru waits for Touya’s mother’s footsteps to fade away as she walks down the hall and around the corner before he turns back to Touya, but Touya’s expression is already set in careful, even marble. “Don’t,” Touya says.

He can’t quite suppress the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “What?” he pushes. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, please, like I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking,” Touya says. “I’m turning out the light,” he says, clicking off the lamp.

Eyes still adjusting, Hikaru snags his foot in the shoulder-strap of his bag but manages to catch himself before he trips. “Ow!”

There is a muffled sound that Hikaru is pretty sure is a snicker Touya tried inexpertly to suppress, but whatever, Hikaru will get him back later.

Hikaru manages to slide into bed without any further incident. “So what are these rules?” he asks, mostly to distract Touya so it’s funnier when Hikaru eventually does bust out the nickname, but also because he’s pretty sure this is the first time he’s heard of them.

“Ah,” Touya says faintly. “Well. You know.”

And it’s totally not fair that the lights are off, because now Hikaru can’t tell if Touya’s actually blushing, or if he just sounds like it. Hikaru rolls onto his side and reaches across the space between them to poke Touya in what Hikaru is assuming is his upper arm. “C’mon, spill.”

Touya shifts, rolling onto his own side and reaching out to grasp Hikaru’s hand in his. His hand is warm and soft and as their fingers intertwine Hikaru can feel the faint roughness of Touya’s go calluses. They never did finish their discussion, Hikaru realises, though the fact that they’ve at least completed the game is enough to take the edge off and allow Hikaru to let it wait until the morning.

“You’re still allowed to stay over, but we have to keep the door open and the futon apart,” Touya says, which isn’t any more than Hikaru’s gathered already, but there’s a hesitation in Touya’s voice that pushes Hikaru to reach out and poke Touya in the side with his free hand.

“And?” he prompts.

Hikaru can hear Touya take a breath. “And we’re not supposed to have sex in the house when my parents are home,” Touya says, voice so low and quiet that Hikaru can only just hear him.

Hikaru opens his mouth to make a joke about Touya finally discovering adolescent rebellion when it sinks in what exactly it means that Touya’s parents have had this discussion with him; “Oh my God,” Hikaru croaks faintly, feeling the world slip just a little bit out of alignment. “Your parents know we’re--” and now he can’t even think it without a piercing stab of paranoia that Touya’s parents can at this very moment read his thoughts and know exactly what it is Hikaru’s done with their son this very night under their roof. “Oh my God,” he repeats, swallowing hard. “I can’t believe you actually told them about--stuff. Oh my God, oh my God; did you seriously tell them about your birthday? And the hotel? Because now I can’t ever--”

“Keep your voice down!” Touya hisses in an undertone. “No, I didn’t tell them the details! It’s not like I was volunteering anything; my mother asked. She wanted to make sure we were... being safe.”

“So you just--” Hikaru breaks off.

“I thought it was a reasonable concern to allay!” Touya protests.

“Urgh,” Hikaru groans. “Why would she even ask, anyway?”

Touya huffs. “Because we’re eighteen, my parents are hardly ever in the country anymore, and she can connect the dots?”

“Heyyy,” Hikaru grins. “You know, that’s pretty awesome, actually. So when are they headed back to China?”

“Korea next, actually; Father’s participating in the Shinhan Open on the twentieth of January. They’ll only be gone for a week, but...” Touya trails off, shifting closer. “Would you like to spend it together?”

‘Hell yes’ is his first thought, but hot on its heels is a heaping dose of ice-cold guilt. “Um...” Hikaru trails off.

“What?” Touya asks, and he strikes such an offended note with only a single word that it’s almost funny except for the part where Touya’s pissed.

“Not because I don’t want to! Because, oh man, I want to, trust me, I want to. It’s just--your parents have been so nice to me, and I thought it was just that they didn’t know that I was, you know, luring their only son away from all the marriageable young ladies who could bear them grandchildren some day, but if they’re gonna be so nice about things then it’s kind of... wrong to take advantage of them?” Hikaru ends lamely.

Touya’s voice is softer when he replies. “They’ve known not to expect any marriageable young ladies for some time now.”

Hikaru hums in thought. “When did you come out to your parents?” he asks.

“About a year ago,” he says.

“Ah,” Hikaru says. “So yeah, I guess they’ve done this a few times, then. How many--” he starts before it occurs to him that it’s probably not a good question to ask and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually want to know the answer and would really have just preferred to pretend that Touya was just as much a clueless virgin as he was, but the words just pour out of him anyway. “So how many boyfriends have you had?”

Touya’s hand tightens almost painfully around his. “Shindou!” he hisses.

“What!” Hikaru hisses back, though his bravado is in short supply. “I’m just curious! And, I mean, since I’m like kind of like your--like your boyfriend or something, I should know, right? I’d tell you about mine, except I haven’t had any boyfriends, or girlfriends, or even kissed anybody before you, so you’re pretty much my first, um, everything--”

“Don’t you think you would have known if I was dating anyone? Don’t you think I would have told you? There hasn’t been anyone other than you, you idiot,” Touya says, exasperated. “And you had better be my boyfriend, because Ashiwara-san is a dreadful gossip.”

“Hey!” Hikaru yelps, but the warmth that flushes through him at Touya’s confirmation eases any minor annoyance the insult might have otherwise caused. “Okay, good, because my parents sort of know.”

“Really?” Touya asks eagerly. “So what did they say?”

Just the memory of that horrifying conversation just before his first date with Touya is enough to make him cringe; he hides his shut eyes behind a forearm he slings across his face.

Touya’s fingers flex in his. “Shindou...” he murmurs quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah!” Hikaru exclaims, moving his arm. “Oh, no, I mean, it wasn’t like that. I mean, it was pretty much the most awkward thing I’ve ever been through ever, because somehow my mom thought we were already...” he trails off.

“Already?” Touya prompts.

“Like, you know,” he says.

“Like what?” Touya asks, this time with less patience.

“Like, doing it,” Hikaru hisses. “She--” and he has to break off because Touya’s breathing has started to stutter, his shoulders have started to shake, and Touya absolutely is not allowed to be laughing at him about this. “It’s not funny!”

Touya sucks in a sharp breath. “Your mother thought we were doing it,” he says somberly, then collapses with a snort that Hikaru is never, ever going to convince anyone that Touya Akira of all people is capable of making.

“Shut up! It’s not my fault my mom’s weird!” he insists.

“And how long have you been giving her this impression?” Touya asks with an audible smirk.

“I didn’t ask! So yeah, Mom thought we were, like, together or whatever already and Dad wants you to come over for dinner so he can meet you--”

“Your father wants to meet me?” Touya asks softly.

“I, um,” Hikaru starts, swallowing to try and wet his suddenly-parched throat. “But you don’t have to? Because, like, my dad, he barely even knows anything about go and he’s so awkward and terrible at smalltalk.”

“But you said he asked you to invite me?” Touya asks.

“Yeah, but, like, only if you feel like it. Because if you don’t want to, I totally understand--”

“I want to,” Touya says decisively. “Absolutely I want to.”

Hikaru finds his hand tightening around Touya’s. “Okay,” he says, a ridiculous grin threatening to take over his mouth. “I’ll get Mom to make katsu curry again.”

“Oh! Please don’t trouble her on my behalf--” Touya begins but Hikaru cuts him off.

“Pfft, whatever, you’re the guest, and she loves any opportunity she can get to feed you. I swear she likes you better than me,” he teases.

“We can trade,” Touya says dryly. “I can’t believe Mother offered to teach you how to make hanabiramochi--I’ve asked her a dozen times, and every time she’s waved me off. I always knew you were her favourite.”

“So--so it’s good, right?” he asks, and he’s not sure if he’s referring to their parents’ acceptance, their relationship, or just the universe as a whole.

The lightness of Touya’s voice does nothing to lessen its certainty. “It’s very good,” he says.

“I’m glad,” Hikaru says, and closes his eyes.

“Mm,” Touya murmurs wordlessly, and by unspoken agreement they fall silent.

It’s a peaceful quiet; the Touya house is set far enough from the road that not even the sound of vehicles can be heard. Faintly he can make out the steady thock of the souzu as it periodically falls, but by far the clearest sound is that of Touya’s breathing, slow and even. The sound is soothing, and before long Hikaru’s found the pace of his own has slowed to match it, unhurried and steady. But as drowsy as he is there is a tiny spark of oh-so-familiar need that curls deep in his belly, and the weight of his impending slumber does nothing to smother it.

Hikaru flexes the fingers he still has twined with Touya’s, and the faint hitch in Touya’s breathing tells Hikaru that he’s still awake. “Hey, Touya?” he asks as quietly as he can.

Touya’s hand tightens gently around his. “Hmm?”

Hikaru can’t help it, can’t help but want him, can’t help but need everything Touya will give him and grasp desperately at what he won’t.

Only one way to find out if he’s interested. “17-4,” Hikaru whispers.

Touya exhales sharply, but without being able to see his face Hikaru can’t be sure if it’s in amusement or annoyance. “Go to sleep,” he says. “It’s past one in the morning.” Both, then.

Hikaru smiles. “We can nigiri first, if you want,” he offers.

Touya sighs. “Do you ever think of anything other than go?” he despairs.

“I think of you” comes to mind automatically as he rolls his eyes, and when he realizes he’s said that out loud he stumbles over himself to add “playing me, right now. So what’s your move? Or are you going to forfeit already?”

“It’s not a forfeit if I never agreed to play in the first place!” Touya protests sotto-voce, but Hikaru can hear the edge in his voice that means Touya will cave if he pushes just right.

“Don’t run away, Acchan--” and he barely gets out the diminutive before Touya’s wrenched his hand from Hikaru’s and a pillow hits him full-on in the nose. “Ow!”

“Shh!” Touya hisses, as if yelping in pain was a completely unreasonable reaction.

“I think you broke my nose!” he mourns. Not really, but maybe he can wring some sympathy out of him.

“That would be awful,” Touya says mildly.

Hikaru sticks his tongue out at him, though he’s not sure if Touya’s getting the full effect of his glare in the moonlight. “You’re terrible,” he says, and then a thought occurs. “Man, I thought your mom was just super old-fashioned or something but you totally make her call you Akira-san, don’t you? What a brat!”

“I was four! Ogata-san was making fun of me! She used -san with everyone else! I just thought that’s what you called people!” Touya protests, and it’s sort of hilarious that Hikaru totally called it.

“Oh man, you are the worst son ever,” Hikaru snickers.

“Shut up; don’t be so loud,” Touya complains.

“So, the game?” Hikaru wheedles.

“Go to bed. We’re going to the temple early tomorrow,” Touya says with a deep sigh, but he sneaks his hand back in Hikaru’s.

“Spoilsport,” Hikaru accuses, but he obediently closes his eyes.

Touya’s fingers slide through his, gliding featherlightly along Hikaru’s skin to stroke slow, even ellipses. The sensation is hypnotic, as if Touya’s drawing his body’s energies into new patterns, new flows.

Hikaru doesn’t realise how close he’s come to sleep until Touya’s voice drifts across the space between them. “You can call me Akira,” Touya says so quietly that Hikaru has to roll the sounds around in his head before he can decode them.

“That is--if you care to,” Touya adds. “If you wanted to do such a thing. You certainly don’t have to.” And his words are so stilted and choppy that Hikaru realizes that Touya’s--that Touya’s--

That Touya’s nervous. That Touya’s unsure. That Touya thinks that Hikaru could say or do anything to deny him, and the thought flushes his cheeks with an embarrassed, guilty sort of pleasure.

Hikaru tosses his coverlet aside and pulls himself forward across the gap between them, leaning in to press a kiss against--Touya’s cheekbone, as it turns out, though it only takes him two more kisses before he finds Touya’s mouth, warm and eager. Touya’s tongue slips into his mouth and despite himself Hikaru lets his own answer back, stroking against his. Touya squeezes their still-joined hands and Hikaru uses his free hand to run through Touya’s long, silken hair, to run a fingertip along the shapely shell of his ear, and with his heart pounding a stacatto rhythm Hikaru breaks their kiss to brush a new one gently against his earlobe.

“Akira,” Hikaru breathes, the syllables flowing through him with a surety he didn’t know he has ever possessed. “I love you, Akira.”

Touya’s--Akira’s breathing stutters. “Shindou, I--”

And it’s sort of silly but it’s actually so perfectly him that all Hikaru can do is huff and press a grin behind his ear. “Hikaru,” he insists.

Akira draws a sharp breath. “Is--just because I said you could call me by my given name doesn’t mean you have to allow me to--”

And he could say a hundred things--don’t be an idiot, stop being stupid, don’t you think it’s only fair--but what he whispers instead is “Please?”

Akira slowly exhales. “Hikaru,” he murmurs, enunciating each syllable of his name with crisp precision.

“You make it sound really great; you should always call me that,” Hikaru says, darting a kiss against his mouth.

“It suits you,” Akira says, rubbing his thumb against the back of Hikaru’s hand. “You’ve always been the bright beacon I couldn’t help but be drawn to.” He pulls his hand out of Hikaru’s, gently enough that Hikaru doesn’t think to immediately protest, and Hikaru’s patience is rewarded when Akira turns Hikaru’s hand over so he can trace abstract figures in his palm. Or perhaps not so abstract--the part of Hikaru’s brain that now almost compulsively absorbs patterns and tries to break them down into their component parts notices that Akira’s slow, rhythmic strokes are rather familiar.

“Hey,” Hikaru says softly. “Again?” Akira obliges, and this time Hikaru gets it, counting six familiar strokes. “Light?” he asks.

“Mm,” Akira assents. “Or perhaps this,” he says, drawing a new character on Hikaru’s hand, ten strokes this time.

“Clear?” Hikaru asks. “Are you naming me?”

“Have you ever wondered what kanji your parents considered for you?” Akira asks instead. “When I began my schooling, I was so upset that I was the only person in my class whose name was written in katakana. I felt like I was... incomplete, somehow, or unfinished. When I asked my mother, she said that she and Father made lists, even narrowed it down to their favourite ten, but that if she chose just one then it was like denying me all of the rest. She thought I’d probably choose something for myself when I got older.”

“Have you?” he asks.

“I’ve thought about it,” Akira says, and begins to draw another slow, deliberate kanji upon Hikaru’s palm.

“One more time,” Hikaru says.

Fifteen precise, graceful strokes later, and Hikaru’s pretty sure he’s figured not only the final kanji, but the second reading all three have in common. “Shine,” he says. “Are these for me or for you?” he asks.

Akira answers in a new character he draws in one swift, curving, unbroken stroke--though it’s not a character at all but a symbol instead, and Hikaru answers him in a kiss he presses against his temple.

“That one,” Hikaru says. “I pick that one. That’ll be how I sign all my notes to you--”

“Hikaru--” Akira tries to interrupt him, and is he embarrassed? He is; he’s totally embarrassed and it’s really, really... adorable.

“It’s perfect, right? Just think of how they’ll write out our matches: Shindou Heart Touya Akira--” he says before Akira’s shoved him on his side so he can kiss Hikaru silent, at least for the moment.

“I do, you know,” Hikaru says quietly after Akira’s drawn back once more. “Love you.”

Akira draws an uneven breath, which he holds for long seconds before he exhales. “One day we will share a name,” he says, and despite his hesitation a moment ago there is nothing unsure about his words now. “We’ll share a name and a koseki. Everything that is mine will be yours. And you’ll be mine.”

And it doesn’t matter that they’ve been dating less than two weeks or that they can’t even legally get married whenever it is they decide they’re ready; after so much time spent chasing and seeking and yearning and needing, Hikaru is never going to let Akira go.

“I already am,” he says and takes his hand once more, Akira’s fingers threading with his.

With his head nestled against Akira’s and everything for once spoken and laid bare between them, it doesn’t take long for his dreamy sense of contentment to give way to the growing warmth of impending slumber. Akira’s already succumbed, judging by the slow pace of the breathing lightly feathering Hikaru’s ear, and the surety that Akira will still be there when he wakes is the last thought Hikaru shapes before slipping off to join him.

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Comments

[qem_chibati]

This is really adorable, there are so many little moments I like, such as Waya and Hikaru bickering. Kudos for writing so much so quickly!

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you! I feel bad whenever I write Waya because usually he's just playing Agony Aunt, but he's so fun to bounce off Hikaru and since things got a little awk between them I really wanted to smooth things out a bit.

I didn't really write 50k in a week! This was actually a failed attempt at BG that I pulled out of cold storage and felt possessed to finish; I just added and rewrote just over 20k over two weeks since my team had the previous week off, so definitely a much saner pace--Uttegaeshi almost killed me; that was 20k in 4 days, and I am never, ever, ever doing that again!

[(Anonymous)]

This was quite an epic! I always appreciate the thoughtful detailed descriptions of go games that you put into your fics, and I think they are especially deftly woven here in this one.

(Also, I have to say, that meal at the restaurant sounds amazing; I really want seafood now.)

Much admiration for writing so much so quickly!

- kakari

[(Anonymous)]

Thank you so very, very much for your compliments about the go! Go is something I think is really important to capture, and while it's hard because my own knowledge is very limited, I do make sure to research and figure out the flow of the game. I am following in Hotta-sensei and Umezawa-sensei's footsteps by picking actual existing games and using them as my model; it's helped me out a tonne.

(I'm glad! I'm one of those people who likes to figure out where they're 'really' located and what kind of options they'd have available to them (bless Google Maps Street View! Such an amazing tool!), so their dinner was definitely inspired by a few places nearby.)

As I mentioned in my reply to Qem, I didn't actually write 50k in a week; I picked up a WIP and finished it by writing 20k in two weeks, so it's not nearly as crazy as it looks <3

[(Anonymous)]

I'm glad you liked New Year's! That was the story for me and the original bunny; it wasn't until I was wondering why they were still pussyfooting around each other all discombobulated that I started going backwards and figuring out how they got to that point.

I agree about needing editing! I'm looking forward to taking some time to thoroughly go over it and tighten it up before I archive it anywhere, so hopefully I can tidy it up a bit and make it more presentable.

I agree that this is very long for such a simple story. I do admit that this was a very self-indulgent story to write; it is THE stereotypical HikaGo fanfic, written 500 times by 200 different fen, and I understand there was no need to add my voice to the choir. That said, it was incredibly fun for me to just roll around in feels the whole time <3 I'm happy I got to finish this and get it out of my system, and in the future when posting fic publicly I hope to focus more on telling stories that have not yet been told instead of rehashing the same thing over and over again.

Thank you so much for taking the time to leave me your constructive thoughts! I really appreciate it!

mod note

[uchikomi]

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