More HikaGo fic
Jul. 26th, 2005 09:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sakon76My brain also started working on a very short HikaGo/CCD fic today, so that will hopefully be appearing soon. But for now, here's today's work.
Akira sat in front of his computer, staring off into space as the day changed slowly into night. Around him the house was silent, empty, perfect. Like his life would have been if a brash twelve-year-old with bleached bangs and the playing grace of a thousand years' weight hadn't derailed Akira's carefully groomed plans one day. A life spent in the study of a higher art--what more could any man ask of the gods? But somehow, unasked-for, Akira had been given more. Footsteps had echoed through the empty halls of his house for years, chasing him, causing him to run faster. Those echoing steps had finally caught up to him and now they raced one another, hearts beating in thrilled exhilaration as they sought the goal. And sometimes the goal didn't seem to matter as much as the running toward it together did.
It had taken Akira a long time to place a name to that feeling: friendship.
Akira's own reputation amused him. The perfect son, the perfect student. The isolated "ice prince" of the Go world, destined for great things, perhaps even greater than his father. When he dreamt of the future, he imagined himself and Shindou, rivals still, in cut-throat competition for the top titles. And it seemed likely to become reality, that together they might touch the hand of God.
Somewhere along the path to that goal, Akira had come to the realization that he was only half of an equation. That the Hand of God could not be reached alone. That there had to be someone against whom he could play, someone to strive with together to that goal. Only Shindou had crossed the line and sat down as an equal across the board from him. Only Shindou flustered and infuriated him, melted Akira's shield of icy reserve, made him stare in awe, cry in pain, and shake in hate.
And now, also, in pleasure.
He hadn't considered that possibility.
The hours of research he'd spent on the 'Net and in libraries since this whole thing started, studying vampire mythology, skimming works based on it, as well as what Shindou had carefully not said, should have warned Akira. Instead, blindly confident, he had charged straight into disaster.
It was in many ways reminiscent of his first meeting with Shindou.
What to do with what he now knew? At the moment, Akira couldn't imagine volunteering again to serve as a meal for his friend, but he also couldn't imagine what else could be done. Shindou had been quite serious about his stupid livestock plan. For him to drink from any other person, given Shindou's nature, they'd have to know and assent. And the last thing Shindou would want would be for anyone *else* to know his latest secret.
So, it came down to friendship.
Having been willing to offer himself once, how was he reluctant to offer himself again? Shindou had stopped with no discernable damage to Akira other than the faint pain that lingered in the bite marks even now. He'd felt physically fine.
Frowning, Akira sat up straighter and moved his mouse. His screensaver vanished and he logged online, hitting a search engine.
*
Hikaru laid stones out across the Go board. He felt better than he had in a week. In fact, he'd felt all afternoon like he was on a sugar buzz. It disgusted him.
Drinking Touya's blood hadn't been as gross as he had thought it would be. No messiness, no blood smeared all over the place at the end of it, incriminating both of them, merely two reddish marks already starting to heal and this feeling of /life/ surging through Hikaru.
The blood hadn't tasted bad. Not at all like the way it had before. It was warm and salty and smooth. Somehow it tasted clean, like exertion and Touya's gameplay: strong and heady, exhilarating. It had been intoxicating, like riding the hardest, fastest roller coasters just because you *could*, and getting high on their dips and slingshots and falls.
And he'd stopped drinking despite the allure of that taste, because there was a voice in the back of his head--sounding amazingly like Sai had sometimes--telling him that was enough, he didn't need anymore, think of your friend before yourself. Don't make the both of you sick.
It had been uncomfortable to realize they'd both ended up with erections.
Hikaru had been hoping--wishing--that his bite wouldn't have quite the same effect on Touya that the pervert bastard mugger's had had on him, but no such luck.
They'd avoided one another's eyes all the way to the station, where they'd boarded separate trains to go home.
And Hikaru had been setting out stones like mad ever since he got there, recreating games left and right, studying patterns for a few minutes before clearing the board and starting again. He felt like a hummingbird on crack, and he *hated* it. But neither could he seem to settle down and do any work.
Finally he gave up, sorted the stones into their bowls, and went downstairs.
"Hikaru," his mother said, leaning her head out of the kitchen, "are you going out? What about dinner?"
"I told you, I ate before I came home," Hikaru answered, lacing up his sneakers.
"Where are you going?"
"Dunno. Maybe to Haze. I just feel like running some." Running all this extra energy off.
"Mmm. I'll leave some on a plate in case you get hungry when you get back," she said unconcernedly. "Can you stop at the convenience store on your way back and pick up some nori? We're almost out."
"Sure. Be back later."
Hikaru tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked. The moon was only half-full, but it was more than enough light to illuminate the street for him. The full moon would be as bright as daylight. Still more proof that vampires belonged out at night, not during the day, going to and from the Go Institute and tutoring lessons....
Hikaru could as soon rip out his heart as give up Go. No, vampire or not, he belonged there, not here in the night.
A smile on his lips, he broke into a light jog the rest of the way to the Haze track field.
*
Akira found Shindou more or less where he'd been directed to. At some point a windbreaker had been shed by the side of the track as Shindou ran, and Akira stood by it.
Shindou was long-legged and graceful in the moonlight, giving Akira the vague mental image of a colt running for the joy of running. He spotted Akira as he came around the curve, and started to slow. He was breathing hard and his t-shirt was patched with sweat, but there was a glow of satisfaction to him that was hard to ignore.
"I always knew you were a dumb jock," Akira remarked as Shindou stopped next to him, leaning over slightly to try and catch his breath.
Shindou grinned. "I was until I took up Go. Soccer team. I've lost a lot of stamina; I *used* to be able to run farther and faster."
"So what are you doing out here?"
"Burning off energy. It was driving me crazy." Shindou straightened and brushed his damp bangs off his face. "What are you doing here, Touya?"
"I needed to talk." Akira handed Shindou his windbreaker. "Do you have some time?"
"Sure. Where?"
"Anywhere."
They ended up on a loping walk around the suburb. "Cooling down," Shindou said, smiling. Akira rolled his eyes. Still, it was companionable and more normal between them than the rest of the day had been. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," Akira answered. "You?"
"I've been on some kind of high ever since. Weird. I hope I burned it out of my system--I couldn't concentrate on Go at all."
Akira frowned. If that happened every time, Hikaru could lapse in his playing. Fall behind him. "That's not good."
"Tell me about it." They walked on a bit further. "Look, about what happened earlier. It won't happen again."
"Shindou. Yes, it will. You haven't got a chance of finding a cow anywhere close enough. You're not the type to drink random people's blood. I doubt you want anyone else to know. So, yes, it will end up happening again." Akira stepped off the curb and started across the street.
"Do you always have to be right?" Shindou asked lightly, causing Akira's eyes to narrow in suspicion as he looked at his rival. Shindou was /never/ so casual about things that mattered. They reached a small park and Shindou almost beelined for the swings. He twisted one up several times, kinking the chain until it was high enough for him, then started on a second. "Sit, Touya. Swing if you like."
Maybe his excess energy wasn't quite burnt out after all. Cautiously, Akira took the first swing as Shindou finished his work on the second. But Shindou didn't start swinging, just sat there and looked up at the moon. "My body can try to convince me all it likes that I belong at night and away from people," he said quietly, "but when I already belong somewhere else, what my body wants doesn't matter. The soul is more important." He looked at Akira. "What happened earlier doesn't mean anything. Well, it does, but not like that."
Akira nodded. "We're not one another's types."
"You have a type?" Shindou joked. Akira scowled and Shindou half-ducked, grinning. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized.
"Depending on how much you need, and how often, you might only need one... donor," Akira said quietly.
"That's a lot of hardship on you," Shindou observed, looking down at the sand.
Akira shrugged. "I'm not sure there are that many options. But if you keep getting blood-high...."
Shindou pushed himself gently back and forward with one foot. "As soon as I can figure out what caused that, I'll work on it."
Touya nodded, knowing that was the best either of them were going to get.
"Want to come over to my place?" Shindou asked. "My parents are probably in bed by now. We could play a game, and I think my mother was going to leave some curry in the oven for me, if you're hungry. I owe you at least a meal."
"Sure," Akira acquiesced, standing. "As long as the game doesn't go too long."
"Speed Go!" Shindou enthused, bouncing up off the swing.
Akira sat in front of his computer, staring off into space as the day changed slowly into night. Around him the house was silent, empty, perfect. Like his life would have been if a brash twelve-year-old with bleached bangs and the playing grace of a thousand years' weight hadn't derailed Akira's carefully groomed plans one day. A life spent in the study of a higher art--what more could any man ask of the gods? But somehow, unasked-for, Akira had been given more. Footsteps had echoed through the empty halls of his house for years, chasing him, causing him to run faster. Those echoing steps had finally caught up to him and now they raced one another, hearts beating in thrilled exhilaration as they sought the goal. And sometimes the goal didn't seem to matter as much as the running toward it together did.
It had taken Akira a long time to place a name to that feeling: friendship.
Akira's own reputation amused him. The perfect son, the perfect student. The isolated "ice prince" of the Go world, destined for great things, perhaps even greater than his father. When he dreamt of the future, he imagined himself and Shindou, rivals still, in cut-throat competition for the top titles. And it seemed likely to become reality, that together they might touch the hand of God.
Somewhere along the path to that goal, Akira had come to the realization that he was only half of an equation. That the Hand of God could not be reached alone. That there had to be someone against whom he could play, someone to strive with together to that goal. Only Shindou had crossed the line and sat down as an equal across the board from him. Only Shindou flustered and infuriated him, melted Akira's shield of icy reserve, made him stare in awe, cry in pain, and shake in hate.
And now, also, in pleasure.
He hadn't considered that possibility.
The hours of research he'd spent on the 'Net and in libraries since this whole thing started, studying vampire mythology, skimming works based on it, as well as what Shindou had carefully not said, should have warned Akira. Instead, blindly confident, he had charged straight into disaster.
It was in many ways reminiscent of his first meeting with Shindou.
What to do with what he now knew? At the moment, Akira couldn't imagine volunteering again to serve as a meal for his friend, but he also couldn't imagine what else could be done. Shindou had been quite serious about his stupid livestock plan. For him to drink from any other person, given Shindou's nature, they'd have to know and assent. And the last thing Shindou would want would be for anyone *else* to know his latest secret.
So, it came down to friendship.
Having been willing to offer himself once, how was he reluctant to offer himself again? Shindou had stopped with no discernable damage to Akira other than the faint pain that lingered in the bite marks even now. He'd felt physically fine.
Frowning, Akira sat up straighter and moved his mouse. His screensaver vanished and he logged online, hitting a search engine.
Hikaru laid stones out across the Go board. He felt better than he had in a week. In fact, he'd felt all afternoon like he was on a sugar buzz. It disgusted him.
Drinking Touya's blood hadn't been as gross as he had thought it would be. No messiness, no blood smeared all over the place at the end of it, incriminating both of them, merely two reddish marks already starting to heal and this feeling of /life/ surging through Hikaru.
The blood hadn't tasted bad. Not at all like the way it had before. It was warm and salty and smooth. Somehow it tasted clean, like exertion and Touya's gameplay: strong and heady, exhilarating. It had been intoxicating, like riding the hardest, fastest roller coasters just because you *could*, and getting high on their dips and slingshots and falls.
And he'd stopped drinking despite the allure of that taste, because there was a voice in the back of his head--sounding amazingly like Sai had sometimes--telling him that was enough, he didn't need anymore, think of your friend before yourself. Don't make the both of you sick.
It had been uncomfortable to realize they'd both ended up with erections.
Hikaru had been hoping--wishing--that his bite wouldn't have quite the same effect on Touya that the pervert bastard mugger's had had on him, but no such luck.
They'd avoided one another's eyes all the way to the station, where they'd boarded separate trains to go home.
And Hikaru had been setting out stones like mad ever since he got there, recreating games left and right, studying patterns for a few minutes before clearing the board and starting again. He felt like a hummingbird on crack, and he *hated* it. But neither could he seem to settle down and do any work.
Finally he gave up, sorted the stones into their bowls, and went downstairs.
"Hikaru," his mother said, leaning her head out of the kitchen, "are you going out? What about dinner?"
"I told you, I ate before I came home," Hikaru answered, lacing up his sneakers.
"Where are you going?"
"Dunno. Maybe to Haze. I just feel like running some." Running all this extra energy off.
"Mmm. I'll leave some on a plate in case you get hungry when you get back," she said unconcernedly. "Can you stop at the convenience store on your way back and pick up some nori? We're almost out."
"Sure. Be back later."
Hikaru tucked his hands into his jacket pockets as he walked. The moon was only half-full, but it was more than enough light to illuminate the street for him. The full moon would be as bright as daylight. Still more proof that vampires belonged out at night, not during the day, going to and from the Go Institute and tutoring lessons....
Hikaru could as soon rip out his heart as give up Go. No, vampire or not, he belonged there, not here in the night.
A smile on his lips, he broke into a light jog the rest of the way to the Haze track field.
Akira found Shindou more or less where he'd been directed to. At some point a windbreaker had been shed by the side of the track as Shindou ran, and Akira stood by it.
Shindou was long-legged and graceful in the moonlight, giving Akira the vague mental image of a colt running for the joy of running. He spotted Akira as he came around the curve, and started to slow. He was breathing hard and his t-shirt was patched with sweat, but there was a glow of satisfaction to him that was hard to ignore.
"I always knew you were a dumb jock," Akira remarked as Shindou stopped next to him, leaning over slightly to try and catch his breath.
Shindou grinned. "I was until I took up Go. Soccer team. I've lost a lot of stamina; I *used* to be able to run farther and faster."
"So what are you doing out here?"
"Burning off energy. It was driving me crazy." Shindou straightened and brushed his damp bangs off his face. "What are you doing here, Touya?"
"I needed to talk." Akira handed Shindou his windbreaker. "Do you have some time?"
"Sure. Where?"
"Anywhere."
They ended up on a loping walk around the suburb. "Cooling down," Shindou said, smiling. Akira rolled his eyes. Still, it was companionable and more normal between them than the rest of the day had been. "Are you feeling all right?"
"Fine," Akira answered. "You?"
"I've been on some kind of high ever since. Weird. I hope I burned it out of my system--I couldn't concentrate on Go at all."
Akira frowned. If that happened every time, Hikaru could lapse in his playing. Fall behind him. "That's not good."
"Tell me about it." They walked on a bit further. "Look, about what happened earlier. It won't happen again."
"Shindou. Yes, it will. You haven't got a chance of finding a cow anywhere close enough. You're not the type to drink random people's blood. I doubt you want anyone else to know. So, yes, it will end up happening again." Akira stepped off the curb and started across the street.
"Do you always have to be right?" Shindou asked lightly, causing Akira's eyes to narrow in suspicion as he looked at his rival. Shindou was /never/ so casual about things that mattered. They reached a small park and Shindou almost beelined for the swings. He twisted one up several times, kinking the chain until it was high enough for him, then started on a second. "Sit, Touya. Swing if you like."
Maybe his excess energy wasn't quite burnt out after all. Cautiously, Akira took the first swing as Shindou finished his work on the second. But Shindou didn't start swinging, just sat there and looked up at the moon. "My body can try to convince me all it likes that I belong at night and away from people," he said quietly, "but when I already belong somewhere else, what my body wants doesn't matter. The soul is more important." He looked at Akira. "What happened earlier doesn't mean anything. Well, it does, but not like that."
Akira nodded. "We're not one another's types."
"You have a type?" Shindou joked. Akira scowled and Shindou half-ducked, grinning. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized.
"Depending on how much you need, and how often, you might only need one... donor," Akira said quietly.
"That's a lot of hardship on you," Shindou observed, looking down at the sand.
Akira shrugged. "I'm not sure there are that many options. But if you keep getting blood-high...."
Shindou pushed himself gently back and forward with one foot. "As soon as I can figure out what caused that, I'll work on it."
Touya nodded, knowing that was the best either of them were going to get.
"Want to come over to my place?" Shindou asked. "My parents are probably in bed by now. We could play a game, and I think my mother was going to leave some curry in the oven for me, if you're hungry. I owe you at least a meal."
"Sure," Akira acquiesced, standing. "As long as the game doesn't go too long."
"Speed Go!" Shindou enthused, bouncing up off the swing.
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Date: 2005-07-27 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-27 12:05 pm (UTC)