Rating: R

Warnings: Angst, Introspective

Pairings: Ogata/Akira

 

 

*******

 

 

Desperado:

 

Like gunslingers ready to engage in a street shoot-out, we weigh each other carefully as we play in what seems to be our one-millionth game. I watch those seedy but amused eyes stare at me in fascination. I know he is laughing inside, but he is too ‘polite’ to make that fact known…at least not yet.

 

I have long taken off my jacket – although the room is relatively cool thanks to the air conditioning system. But I still feel hot and bothered and this old geezer isn’t making things any easier for me. And the fact that he hasn’t mentioned anything outside our game is the most unnerving part. I am sure he had heard about the ‘broken’ elevator and the knowledge that I had spent some quality time with one Shindo Hikaru in there. My opponent is so full of innuendos and I am very surprised he has said nothing yet.

 

“Do you plan to play anytime soon, Ogata-kun? You are taking a very long time for your next move. Keh, keh, keh, keh!”[1]

 

And just what in the hell kind of laughter is that? I scowl and give him a baleful look before forcing my gaze back to the stone formations on the goban between us. He is clearly having the upper hand in this and I can hardly blame him. My mind is not focused at all! And I had to blame that blond smart-ass for doing this to me. I rub a hand almost absently across my lips, reluctantly still tasting the uniqueness that is Shindo.

 

His lips had been firm – once he had begun to take control that is. They hadn’t been as pliant and as soft as my Akira’s, but it hadn’t been all too unpleasant either…

 

“Ogata-kun?”

 

“What is it?” I snap back a bit impatiently, which in turn cause our referees to stare at me in surprise.

 

I swear the old geezer winks at me as he leans a bit closer over the board. “You seem to have a lot on your mind, Ogata-kun.”

 

I remain silent, although I feel a tense muscle in my temple begin to throb in growing anger and irritation.

 

Kami, I need a smoke.

 

“Are the thoughts of our young rivals becoming such a burden on your mind?”

 

He’s just trying to psyche me out that’s all. I rub a hand across my lips again, feeling my mouth getting dryer by the second. I force my gaze back to the board, but to my chagrin, all I can see are just plain black and white stones. I find, with growing panic that my focus is rapidly slipping! Shit! I have to get my bearings back and ignore whatever this man has to say to me.

 

“I saw Akira-kun in the lobby today…”

 

My hand reaches for the white stones in the goke beside me.

 

“He looked a little upset to me…”

 

My fingers finally select one and they tighten around it – almost like a lifeline.

 

“I tried to get his attention but…”

 

If I just place it in this corner, I can begin to attack his stones from the right. I should be able to gain some ground from there.

 

“But all he said was something about ‘knowing who your real friends were’…”

 

There!

 

I place my stone upon the board with a resounding slam forcing him to focus on the game at hand. Damn him! Just what is he trying to say?

 

“Keh, keh, keh! What a nice move, Ogata-kun.” He reaches for his cup of tea to take a sip. “Almost as nice as the moves you are beginning to make on our young rivals, ne?”

 

It’s a miracle that I can maintain such an emotionless expression outside when all I want to do is reach across this board to strangle him to his last breath. It would be fitting after all. He would die over a Go board and perhaps haunt it like Sai…

 

Now why had that random thought come to mind?!

 

He places another stone and the pressure is back on me again.

 

“You should be careful what you wish for, Ogata-kun,” he continues in that annoyingly grating voice. “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

 

“Don’t worry,” I finally retort coldly. “I can take care of myself…”

 

At least I hope I can.

 

 

__

 

 

I lost the damn match after all. Total tally – Kuwabara 5 wins and counting [2] –against me, of course. At least I’m glad I’m out of that stifling room. I do not feel the need to slip back into my jacket and so I leave it draped over an arm as I reach for a cigarette within its pocket. I place the slender stick between my lips, hand absently searching for my lighter as I eye the elevator warily. Of course the memories of being with Shindo come rushing back to me and I all but scowl at just how much I’m beginning to think of him.

 

I should be worrying about Akira, shouldn’t I? And to be honest, I really do wonder what Akira must have been thinking when he saw I and Shindo leaving the elevator. The boy had looked quite upset and I could have sworn I had seen jealousy’s ugly head fill his expressive green depths. But what could Akira possibly be jealous about?

 

I finally find the lighter and help myself to a lungful of smoke.

 

I watch the small cloud that forms before me as I exhale softly. Akira…jealous…of what? Shindo and I? Hmm…could it be that the boy’s feelings were changing…for me? Wishful thinking of course, but one can only hope.

 

I glance at my watch. It’s almost two o’clock and if my memory serves me right, both boys have long begun their matches. Perhaps, I should stop by to see just how things are coming along. There is really no harm in that, is there?

 

“Ah, Ogata-sensei! It’s a surprise to see you around here. You don’t usually come in to watch the other matches. I’m really sorry about your loss to…”

 

Blah, blah and blah. I hear this every time I do something that’s out of the ‘ordinary’. Granted, I do not visit the room where the other professionals play during the week, for I have really seen no reason to do so. Consider me a one-track minded individual if you will, but I am usually in this building for one reason and that is to play and win. Of course, there are the obligatory seminars and events that have been lined up for us to participate in, but that’s a whole other matter altogether.

 

“…be participating in the upcoming Shindougo event next week?”

 

Oh? It’s happening next week already? Time does seem to fly when you are having so much fun – especially when you’ve been in my shoes.

 

“Thank you Masaki-san,” I reply coolly as I accept the flyer from him. “I’ll contact you later this evening to rehash plans for the event.”

 

He seems satisfied with my answer as he breaks into a wide grin. But just as he’s about to begin talking about something else, I give him a curt nod of dismissal and begin to make my way towards the game room.

 

Just a quick peek, I tell myself, and then I’ll be out of there. They do not need to know that I even came by in the first place.

 

The irregular sounds of stones being placed upon the goban fill my ears as my feet lead me towards my destination. I realize with a small smile that my heart is beginning to pound a bit faster. I do not know what to expect to be honest. Would they both be seated beside each other? Would they be so focused on their games that nothing else matters? Would our little soiree be forgotten so quickly? Somehow I doubted the latter question.

 

I stub out my cigarette and peer into the room, being as inconspicuous as possible. For a moment, my eyes scan the large room quickly, before the familiar shock of yellow and black hair fill my vision. He is sitting in the far right corner of the room, his hands upon his thighs with his back faced to me. I cannot see his expression – which is a pity. Although, from the way he sits and the obvious way his shoulders and back are as stiff as ramrods, the boy is clearly under a lot of stress.

 

Hmm…

 

My curious gaze soon falls upon Akira, who is sitting about a row before him. He has a full view of Shindo from his vantage point and I can see the way he clenches and unclenches his hands on his lap after placing a stone on the board. Every other minute, he would lift his rather cold gaze to meet his rival’s. I cannot tell if Shindo is looking at him as well, but I really do not want to know at this point. The tension between those two is quite palpable and makes me feel incredibly queasy.

 

I nearly jump out of my skin as I feel a hand upon my shoulder and spinning around quickly with a forced smile on my face, I get ready to speak to Morishita and his cronies for more - you guessed it – plans for the upcoming seminar.

 

I would have to push both boys away from my mind as quickly as possible if I hoped to get anything done today.

 

Hn…if only things were that simple.

 

 

__

 

 

Unfortunately, I had to leave the Institute before their games were over. I had a meeting with several members of the Japanese Go Association and they needed my assistance in fielding out the new crop of Insei for the year.

 

It’s early evening now and thankfully, the traffic is not as terrible as it had been earlier in the day. My plans for the night included a long and soothing shower (anything to rid me of the memories of playing against that man today), a few practice games of my own and maybe one or two games on the Internet later on. I have so much work to do for the next few days that I’ll have little or no time to engage in any frivolous affairs.

 

So why then am I heading towards Touya Kuoyo’s Go Salon?

 

I’ll tell you why.

 

Akira had called my cell phone about ten minutes ago to ask if I could pick him up.

 

Warning bells should be ringing off in my head by now, but all I can feel is a sense of eager anticipation. I wonder what he would say about Shindo and I – or if he would say anything at all. Sometimes trying to read Akira was like trying to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics…that is of course if you didn’t know anything about the dead language.

 

I finally pull up to the curb and wait – a bit impatiently – eyes scanning the small crowd of people that pass by for the familiar red and black sweater that he almost always likes to wear. By habit, I reach for another cancer stick, knowing full well that I am only doing this to control how – yes, believe it or not – nervous I am getting. I really do not understand why I ought to feel this way over a boy who probably hates my guts by now. I had given him nothing to work with since our last debacle and then the incident earlier today with his lover (or ex-lover, if I’m lucky) is enough to make me want to drive right back out to the streets.

 

But before I can decide to change my mind, Akira comes walking out of the building with a small smile on his visage and I promptly forget to breathe.

 

I do not think I can truly explain the way he looks to me at times like these. Call it a stupid romantic notion which only happens in movies, but I swear it – everyone else seems to fade away when he’s around me. That naïve and deceptively shy air about him as I watch him bow and greet some older patrons, has me wanting to wrap him within my arms so tightly that he would cease to breathe. I watch as he shifts the strap of his black bag a bit higher on his shoulder and the way he absently brushes away a few dark strands of hair that had flown into his face.

 

“Thank you for coming, Ogata-sensei,” he says in that damning polite voice of his as he opens up the door. “Ichikawa-san said she’d be working late tonight and I had to go home on time today. I hope you don’t mind?”

 

He lifts his gaze to smile at me again and damn if my chest hasn’t tightened with a pain that seems to sear right through my soul.

 

“No…” I clear my throat and try again (it had come out like a croak the first time around). “No, I don’t mind. Now buckle up.”

 

“I heard you lost to Kuwabara-sensei,” he begins as I maneuver my prized possession back onto the main streets. “How was it…?”

 

“I would rather not talk about that right now,” I interrupt and I assume that my voice is back to its curtness because I notice him giving me a pained look before he turns away again.

 

Damn.

 

The silence between us is heavy and thick and I will myself to start up some kind of conversation to break the rising tension between us. We have not been this close to each other since the night of our heated passion and there’s no doubt that we are both reliving each moment as we continue to wallow in our silence.

 

I notice him shift a little and I can feel a responding tightness within my pants. I growl softly and force myself to focus on the road before me, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly, I fear I might rip it off if I’m not careful.

 

“Sen…sensei?”

 

I notice the timid tone and I brace myself for it.

 

“Sensei…do…do you…”

 

He’s not looking at me and I think I am grateful for that. We are both doing our best to act nonchalant.

 

“…did you…do you remember how you used to take me out for ice cream after some games we used to play when I was little?”

 

It’s a miracle I didn’t crash the car at the very unexpected question. I steal a quick and quite bewildered look in his direction, but all I can see is a trace of a wistful smile on his visage from his reflection on the glass window.

 

“You used to say father was too harsh on me and you would take me away to rescue me.”

 

He giggles then and I can’t stop the small smile that comes to my features. Of course I remember those days. I remember everything about us, Akira. There’s no need to ask me that.

 

“And do you remember how you tried to teach me to drive? And I was barely seven then!”

 

This time my smile widens at the memory. It was the very first car I had gotten with my first major title win. It had been a black convertible that I had eventually traded in – but back then, it had been my pride and joy and I had wanted nothing more than to show it off…especially to Akira. I can still remember his wide-eyed expression as I had showed him the inner workings of the smooth machine. He had listened and had asked questions like a pro and I had teasingly called him my new apprentice.

 

Heh…what irony.

 

“Father would always get upset with you whenever you tried to do that…”

 

I blinked in confusion. I must have missed the earlier part of his statement. I do know however that Touya Kouyo had always had it out for me especially when I had become…well…older. But that’s a whole other story that I do not want to get into.

 

But the question is…why is Akira bringing this all up now? We didn’t usually talk about the past like this and although I’ll admit that it is nice to bring up nostalgic memories, I could always do without them.

 

“Akira…” I begin only to find myself stumped by the way he suddenly turns around to pin those dark green eyes on me.

 

“Do I bore you, sensei?”

 

Wha…?

 

“Is Shindo more interesting than I am?”

 

I have to focus. Focus. Focus. Focus. Or I swear I’ll crash this car sometime soon…

 

“You were in the elevator with him and you must have done something to him.”

 

“Akira…”

 

“I know I mean nothing to you in that way, but you didn’t have to touch him too!”

 

I frown in irritation, fighting the urge to tell him to mind his own business. For a moment, he had sounded like a spoiled little brat who had to always have his way.

 

“I’m taking you back home, Akira,” I finally grate out softly. “You need to get some rest. You’ve had a long day…”

 

“I don’t want to go back home, sensei,” he responds flatly. Thankfully, I’m stalled at a red traffic light and I can finally turn my bemused expression on him.

 

“What the hell do you mean you don’t want to go back home?”

 

“I just don’t feel like it.”

 

“Don’t act like such a brat, Akira…”

 

“But you like Shindo that way, don’t you?”

 

“What in the world are you talking about?!”

 

He’s practically glaring at me and sweet Kami, but I am hopelessly turned on by how angry he looks. There is an aura of danger and heightened awareness around him that’s enough to make me want to reach out and to…

 

“Let me show you that I’m different, sensei,” he says slowly and carefully as if trying to enunciate each word for my benefit.

 

He leans closer and I shiver reluctantly at his warm breath that tickles against my skin. He places a hand upon my thigh and I all but groan in response. A sharp blare of someone’s horn behind me jerks me roughly back to reality and I grit my teeth and try to nudge him away.

 

“I’m driving, Akira,” I say as coldly as I can manage, but my voice trembles and I curse myself inwardly.

 

“That’s okay, sensei,” he replies with a small smile as leans close again to whisper into my ear.

 

“Take me home with you…”

 

It is smooth and silky, like the very devil’s temptation itself.

 

And I, forever a sinner, will only take the bait and walk further into my inner hell.

 

 

 

 

TBC…

 

 

 

[1] – For some reason, Kuwabara’s laughter sounded that way to me when I was writing *lol *

 

[2] – I am not sure of the win/loss ration between those two but that’s roughly my estimate.