Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ Concerning him ❯ Far Away Concerns II. ( Chapter 10 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Stray 
Anime/Manga: Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Psychological / Romance / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.18.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 767 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Hentai / Psychological / Romance / Angst | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 02.18.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 3.8K | Visits: 767 | Status: Work In Progress
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Chapter 05/2
Far away concerns
by Stray
19. 08. 2004 - 02.01.2005
rating: R
Disclaimers: not mine, only fussing around.
Warnings: bad English, less angst, heavy OOCness, yaoi, serious Fluff-warning!
Minor spoilers of the last two volumes of the manga
Pairing: HxA, IxW mentioned
Betas: Quirk-san and Anne-san (and MS Word but that doesn’t really count, does it?)
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We didn't do much for days after that. Didn't venture out of the apartment for more than a fast grocery shopping, and even for that I convinced him that it would be better if I went alone. I brought the newest papers and was glad that I didn't see his face on the front pages anymore. We unplugged the phone line and programmed our cells so we only got the calls from stored numbers. We didn't get many of them, apart from the attempts of reassurance from Waya and Isumi and my mum’s inquiries if everything was okay and if we needed anything. I was grateful for her inconspicuous use of the plural that meant she wanted to help *us* and not just me, her son.
One morning, when we woke up in each other’s arms, we could almost pretend that it was like our honeymoon and not us trying to hide in our own little hole from the world that didn't have any use for us anymore. We indulged in the previously rarely practiced art of sleeping in and sex in the morning, with the sweat from the exertions of the previous night still dried on our skins. I haven't had so much sex ever before, but I couldn't say there was a chance of me getting tired of it in the foreseeable future, much less of the person I was having it with.
On some of the long nights, when I lay by his side, touching the firm planes of his chest, I was wondering if it was normal not to remember what touching a woman's chest felt like. If it was normal that touching him at other places, where his body was so distinctly *male*, had become so natural and more than desired in such a short time. That to compare his body with that of a woman felt so wrong, but not because of the awkwardness I should have felt when I really thought about having sex with a male, or because I had fallen onto the other side of the hedge and was disgusted ever having touched a woman. No, I was still indifferent in that issue. It just felt wrong to think about anyone else, even faceless strangers, when he was there and I was with him.
In a way it was good that we had time to explore the changes in our relationship, and didn't have to squeeze this into our busy everyday lifes. I could think about things, and let my mind filter through all the new sensations and feelings. It became so very clear, and I saw now that he had known for years, that there was no place for another person in my life. He was my rival, the only person I could think of when I played Go, and nearly the only one when I didn't. There was no place for anyone else in my mind. Sure, I had friends and my family, whom I loved. But there was no one else whom I could have a chance to get to know and understand, look up to and be afraid of, be proud of and be content with, but Touya Akira. It was just natural to extend this relationship onto every aspect of our lives. Or as the popular belief suggests, it was impossible to know someone so thoroughly and not feel anything for them. Oh hell! I had so many theories just why things had developed into what they had, and none of them felt quite right. But all of them pointed to one conclusion, and that conclusion was impossible to ignore. And I found that I didn't want to ignore it. I accepted it freely and with reverence.
It just was so bloody hard to say it out loud, those three words, so I tried my damnest to show him how I felt. And I think I succeeded. He didn't expect me to repeat the 'L'-word whenever he said it to me. There was always the hope in his eyes that I would, but he didn't act offended when I didn't. I knew it hurt him, but I just couldn't say it freely, to this very day.
The days of blissful ignorance didn't last for more than a week. We both started to feel restless, and not even a game of Go helped. (That week set two records for me: having the most sex in my life, and having spent the most time with Touya without touching the stones. Oh, and I don't remember ever before having felt the need to shower thrice a day, but that was just a consequence of the first, so it doesn't really count.) So we started to speak about what we would like to do with our lives. We agreed that whatever it would be, it would be something related to Go - professional or otherwise. We didn't have enough money to open a Go salon, not to speak about that we like *playing* go, not receiving money for letting other people play. We also liked teaching, but it was unlikely that any of our former pupils’ families would consider employing us after the scandal that went all over the media. Finally we ended up giving a call to everyone who we thought still cared for us, asking if they knew something for us, but of course we received only well-meant but startled negatives. (The only one who really thought about it was Amano-san, who offered a column in Weekly Go, but all of us understood that with our current reputation it wasn't likely that he could persuade the publisher to employ any one of us. Not that I am any good with words, but Touya's style was always more than acceptable.)
Concerning the media, Isumi told us, even Touya's disowning had made it to the news. And since I had quit with him, I was made out the scapegoat, and he was made out a slut. Our living together only propelled the protestants to be louder and the fabricated scandals wilder. Some of the stories got published even in the foreign press.
I received a phone call from my mother one afternoon. She was , she trying to convince me that she didn't believe one word of what was said or written, but I could hear my dad in the background shouting and cursing 'those bastards' (my mother hurried to assure me that he meant the media workers and not us) and I heard her stifle a sob. Her voice sounded as if she had just stopped crying, but was on the verge to start again. I could get her to calm down just enough to invite them over the next day so we could clear things.
I hadn't realized that we were not alone in that situation and how hard it must have been on our families, too. I didn't feel sorry for Touya's dad, but I could imagine what his mother had had to endure and I was suddenly glad, my grandpa hadn't lived to see that day. Now I had to tell Touya what I had arranged without his consent, but he was surprisingly understanding and calm, even after I told him that I planned to reveal everything. He just nodded and told me that it was the least he could do for my parents. I was pleasantly surprised, as I hadn't known he cared for them that much. Well, I shouldn't have been, given that he had known them for years (we had spent Christmas at my old house). But as he later told me, he did it partly to reciprocate my assistance in calling his mother, because, he wasn't sure things would have worked out between them had I not done that, and I couldn't convince him of the opposite.
Next day we made dinner and when my parents arrived, we ate in silence. The atmosphere was strained and none of us had much of an appetite. After the meal Touya made tea and we sat down in the living room, much like we’d done with Touya's mum the week before. Touya was again possessive, but not behaving so provocatively against my parents. He contented himself with sitting next to me and lacing our fingers together. After that time with his mother I had discovered that he liked holding hands; not in public, but in the company of people close to us. It felt somehow secure and intimate, so I wasn't averse to it.
We had agreed that he would be the one telling the story. I knew he was feeling anxious and ashamed of the things he had done with strangers. I thought he wanted to tell it because he feared that I would tell more of the embarrassing details than it was strictly necessarily;, and maybe to make it sound a little less wrong. To make my parents understand that he wasn't doing these things because he found a forbidden pleasure in them, and that he had changed and wouldn't do it again. To make them feel sympathy for him and let them see that our relationship wasn't 'evil' and he wasn't 'bad for me'.
How wrong I was! He told them everything, unconcealed, unadorned, in its naked reality. He sat there, squeezing my fingers numb, gaze firmly fixed on our entwined hands, and talked flowingly, without stopping or correcting himself. His voice was a bit raw, but even, devoid of any feeling, as if he was reading a news report. Like it wasn't his life that was on the table. He hid his fear behind objectivity. But his words were clearly stating that he knew all too well that it was him who had committed all those things, and he shouldered the blame without having second thoughts. It was like a confession. And he needed it. Needed to tell it someone unaffected, even if this someone would condemn him for what he had done and most likely never want to have anything to do with him again. I had a distinct feeling that behind all this, he wanted me to understand fully what I was in, as if he was having doubts that I really understood. I was hoping that he didn't.
I was so immersed in my thoughts about him, I didn't even realize when he finished his speech. I looked up at the silence and surveyed my parents. My dad was shocked and my mum was in tears. But she looked more sympathetic and willing to understand.
"But… why?" she asked in a low voice that reminded me of the phone call that prompted this evening's confessions.
Touya looked up for the first time. His face seemed shrunken and his eyes were so big and dark. It was the first time that his tone betrayed what he must have felt the whole time.
"I don't know." It sounded so final. And it was his only answer. He could recite everything that had happened with a surgical accuracy, but he couldn't think of a plausible reason behind it all. He just looked at my mother for several very silent seconds.
I let out a heavy breath and, grasping his wrist gently with my other hand, extricated my poor crushed fingers from his loosened grip. His palm was warm and sweaty against mine. He looked up at me as I lifted the arm that was closer to him and pulled him into an embrace. His back was rigid and his muscles were strained, so I rubbed them a bit with my palm. My other hand let go of his wrist, rested his hand on my knee, caressing his spread fingers.
"I think I know why…" I said softly, looking not at my parents but into his eyes. He blinked once and then nodded nearly imperceptibly, encouraging me to tell. And I did. I told him (and my parents) everything of what I thought the reason was: that he had suppressed his feelings; he felt lonely, since his father had all but abandoned him, that; he had to pretend to be something he wasn't, and had fought too hard to retain his control and couldn't continue fighting forever. He had to break, and when he did… at least he had the sense to come to me, even after I had rejected him. And thank God, he didn't do drugs or alcohol.
I don't know how long I spoke. But he looked at me the whole time, almost without blinking and his face went real pale and his lips pressed together into a straight line. After I stopped speaking, he still looked at me for a while, getting paler, and then the corner of his mouth started to tremble, as if he was about to faint. But he didn't.
"That was… that was… How did you…? When even I didn't…? And why didn't you tell me before?" He stood up, his shoulders trembling, and ran out into my old bedroom - our bedroom now.
I looked at my parents, told them that I would be back soon and went after him. He sat on the bed, facing the window. I went to sit next to him and comfort him. I thought he was crying, but he wasn’t. He glanced at me and seemed much calmer than he had been just a few seconds before.
"I… sorry I haven't told you," I stuttered dreadfully. "I just somehow thought that you…"
He smiled that secret little smile at me. "That I knew?" I nodded, puzzled. "No, I… I didn't. Thank you." He kissed me softly, and I was so relieved that he wasn't mad at me that I totally forgot about my parents waiting out there and tackled him down onto the bed, trying to smooch him into next Sunday. After a few blissful minutes he pushed me away, laughing - I had rarely heard him laugh before.
We went back into the living room after tidying ourselves. My parents were a little shell-shocked, but seemed to accept what he had told and started to warm up to him again. We drank our tea and then, because neither of us had eaten much previously, we decided to have a second dinner because "we couldn't let all that food go bad", as my dad said. I have to say that it went much better than the first one. I opened a bottle of wine and that loosened the mood significantly.
After they were gone, I asked Touya if he hadn't wanted to tell this his mother, but his answer was that she knew already. She had known it from the beginning. But she didn't understand. I was the only one who did. And then it dawned on me, that he hadn't thanked me before because I had told him the reason why he had done those things back then, more like because I had understood him when no one else did.
Then came the butterflies again.
----
It was in the middle of the next week that something unforeseen happened, that determined our ensuing lives. We got a call from Amano-san that there were a couple of American journalists inquiring after us. I don't know how he succeeded to talk us into meeting them for an interview - that was the first time after everything had blown up around us that both of us left the apartment together.
We met in a restaurant - not overly pompous, just a neat, quiet place with separate boxes for the tables, so we weren't exposed. The reporters turned out to be a man and a woman, and she looked like one of her parents was Japanese. Amano-san had agreed to accompany them, so I wasn't the only one who couldn't speak English fluently, but it turned out that Amano-san was still a lot better than me. Fortunately I didn't really have to speak, Touya spoke for me too. The conversation lasted nearly three hours.
Surprisingly, they didn't ask about the scandals that had prompted our abrupt leaving of the Japanese Go professionals' society. They asked about our respective careers, about the tournaments we had participated in, the outcomes of matches we had played against Japan's more prominent players, even the Hokuto-cups though they were more than seven years in the past. The only question remotely connected to our private life was if we really were living together as a couple. As we didn't think anything of the question, we answered it according to the truth.
After that, they gave a look to each other. The woman nodded once, and looking at me once again asked in fractured Japanese:
"Shindo-san, do you speak English?"
I was a bit surprised and could only nod. Touya laughed and told them that I had learnt a bit of both English and Korean. And I nodded again, but his laugh prompted me to smile.
After that they thanked us for the interview and we finished our meals with idle conversation. They were somehow intrigued, when we asked about the Go-life in the States, but at that time we didn't know why. When we said good-bye to each other, they promised that they would remain in contact, and send us a copy of the magazine where the interview would be printed.
A week passed, and though we had made that agreement about staying in contact, we didn't anticipate hearing of them so soon. We thought it was just a form of politeness. We were invited to that restaurant again including Amano-san, but this time they haven't said anything about an interview. We decided to go - it wasn't much of a discussion as we both wanted to.
We ordered lunch, and spent the time with conversation again until after the desserts. As the last plate was cleared away from our table, and the ordered bottle of wine arrived, the man (his name was Edward Simons and he followed our future career for a good while) turned toward us and started to speak slowly so I too could understand what he said.
"We have a proposition to you, gentlemen. I am a journalist, but also the secretary of the Go League of the United States. I have authorization to offer the two of you full American citizenship and a place in the League. We offer a place to live for both of you, and a contract for three years. Here are the official documents." He pushed a thick folder towards us and continued in the astounded silence. "We don't expect an answer now, you have time to think it through, look at the contract and other documents, discuss it with your family and - I suppose - between the two of you. The contracts are individual and don't require that both of you accept it, I'm just saying it because we didn't really know what arrangements we should make - with all those… stories currently on the media…" he looked down and frowned, then looked back up, his gaze alternating between at us repeatedly. "Khm.. yes. So we await your answer by the twenty-seventh, that's nearly two weeks time. I hope that will be enough time to make a decision."
I don't really remember what happened afterwards. We were both shocked a bit. They thanked us for our time and left us with Amano-san. When he got back to our table after escorting the Americans to the nearest taxi stand, we had already started to read the papers they had left for us - that is, Touya read them and I tried to peer into them over his shoulder. Finally, he got tired of my constant questioning, put the stack before us on the table, pulled me closer with his arm on my hips, and started to translate the sentences aloud.
It turned out that Amano-san, too, hadn’t known that they didn't want just an interview. He had only known that they seemed seriously interested in our professional track and not our assumed private life. He had thought some positive press could be useful for us. Well, it *was* useful.
We gnawed through all the official papers; Waya had a friend who was a lawyer and was able to look them through for us. Then we spoke with our families - Touya with his mum and I with my parents, who had mixed feelings about us going away to another country, but at last saw that it was better for us than stay and stew in our own juices. As for us - it never was a question if we wanted to go. It was a new, unexpected but all the more treasured opportunity to play again, against each other, be with each other.
On the twenty-third we informed them that we were accepting the proposition. Our citizenship was settled within a month and they told us that they had several houses on sale that we could look at and decide which one we wanted to move in - or name another one of our choosing within the specified prize range.
Our plane was leaving on the twenty-fourth of the following month, and both of our parents and our remaining friends were there to see us off. It was only twelve years later that we set our feet on the land of Japan again.
TBC: Epilogue
A/N: Sorry, I couldn’t post it sooner; RL has derived me of my net access. (Meaning: my boss was all over my shoulder the whole week long.) Ok, there is only the epilogue. I have parts of it written, and I will try to put in a lemon scene, if I don’t f*** it up. :)
Chapter 05/2
Far away concerns
by Stray
19. 08. 2004 - 02.01.2005
rating: R
Disclaimers: not mine, only fussing around.
Warnings: bad English, less angst, heavy OOCness, yaoi, serious Fluff-warning!
Minor spoilers of the last two volumes of the manga
Pairing: HxA, IxW mentioned
Betas: Quirk-san and Anne-san (and MS Word but that doesn’t really count, does it?)
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We didn't do much for days after that. Didn't venture out of the apartment for more than a fast grocery shopping, and even for that I convinced him that it would be better if I went alone. I brought the newest papers and was glad that I didn't see his face on the front pages anymore. We unplugged the phone line and programmed our cells so we only got the calls from stored numbers. We didn't get many of them, apart from the attempts of reassurance from Waya and Isumi and my mum’s inquiries if everything was okay and if we needed anything. I was grateful for her inconspicuous use of the plural that meant she wanted to help *us* and not just me, her son.
One morning, when we woke up in each other’s arms, we could almost pretend that it was like our honeymoon and not us trying to hide in our own little hole from the world that didn't have any use for us anymore. We indulged in the previously rarely practiced art of sleeping in and sex in the morning, with the sweat from the exertions of the previous night still dried on our skins. I haven't had so much sex ever before, but I couldn't say there was a chance of me getting tired of it in the foreseeable future, much less of the person I was having it with.
On some of the long nights, when I lay by his side, touching the firm planes of his chest, I was wondering if it was normal not to remember what touching a woman's chest felt like. If it was normal that touching him at other places, where his body was so distinctly *male*, had become so natural and more than desired in such a short time. That to compare his body with that of a woman felt so wrong, but not because of the awkwardness I should have felt when I really thought about having sex with a male, or because I had fallen onto the other side of the hedge and was disgusted ever having touched a woman. No, I was still indifferent in that issue. It just felt wrong to think about anyone else, even faceless strangers, when he was there and I was with him.
In a way it was good that we had time to explore the changes in our relationship, and didn't have to squeeze this into our busy everyday lifes. I could think about things, and let my mind filter through all the new sensations and feelings. It became so very clear, and I saw now that he had known for years, that there was no place for another person in my life. He was my rival, the only person I could think of when I played Go, and nearly the only one when I didn't. There was no place for anyone else in my mind. Sure, I had friends and my family, whom I loved. But there was no one else whom I could have a chance to get to know and understand, look up to and be afraid of, be proud of and be content with, but Touya Akira. It was just natural to extend this relationship onto every aspect of our lives. Or as the popular belief suggests, it was impossible to know someone so thoroughly and not feel anything for them. Oh hell! I had so many theories just why things had developed into what they had, and none of them felt quite right. But all of them pointed to one conclusion, and that conclusion was impossible to ignore. And I found that I didn't want to ignore it. I accepted it freely and with reverence.
It just was so bloody hard to say it out loud, those three words, so I tried my damnest to show him how I felt. And I think I succeeded. He didn't expect me to repeat the 'L'-word whenever he said it to me. There was always the hope in his eyes that I would, but he didn't act offended when I didn't. I knew it hurt him, but I just couldn't say it freely, to this very day.
The days of blissful ignorance didn't last for more than a week. We both started to feel restless, and not even a game of Go helped. (That week set two records for me: having the most sex in my life, and having spent the most time with Touya without touching the stones. Oh, and I don't remember ever before having felt the need to shower thrice a day, but that was just a consequence of the first, so it doesn't really count.) So we started to speak about what we would like to do with our lives. We agreed that whatever it would be, it would be something related to Go - professional or otherwise. We didn't have enough money to open a Go salon, not to speak about that we like *playing* go, not receiving money for letting other people play. We also liked teaching, but it was unlikely that any of our former pupils’ families would consider employing us after the scandal that went all over the media. Finally we ended up giving a call to everyone who we thought still cared for us, asking if they knew something for us, but of course we received only well-meant but startled negatives. (The only one who really thought about it was Amano-san, who offered a column in Weekly Go, but all of us understood that with our current reputation it wasn't likely that he could persuade the publisher to employ any one of us. Not that I am any good with words, but Touya's style was always more than acceptable.)
Concerning the media, Isumi told us, even Touya's disowning had made it to the news. And since I had quit with him, I was made out the scapegoat, and he was made out a slut. Our living together only propelled the protestants to be louder and the fabricated scandals wilder. Some of the stories got published even in the foreign press.
I received a phone call from my mother one afternoon. She was , she trying to convince me that she didn't believe one word of what was said or written, but I could hear my dad in the background shouting and cursing 'those bastards' (my mother hurried to assure me that he meant the media workers and not us) and I heard her stifle a sob. Her voice sounded as if she had just stopped crying, but was on the verge to start again. I could get her to calm down just enough to invite them over the next day so we could clear things.
I hadn't realized that we were not alone in that situation and how hard it must have been on our families, too. I didn't feel sorry for Touya's dad, but I could imagine what his mother had had to endure and I was suddenly glad, my grandpa hadn't lived to see that day. Now I had to tell Touya what I had arranged without his consent, but he was surprisingly understanding and calm, even after I told him that I planned to reveal everything. He just nodded and told me that it was the least he could do for my parents. I was pleasantly surprised, as I hadn't known he cared for them that much. Well, I shouldn't have been, given that he had known them for years (we had spent Christmas at my old house). But as he later told me, he did it partly to reciprocate my assistance in calling his mother, because, he wasn't sure things would have worked out between them had I not done that, and I couldn't convince him of the opposite.
Next day we made dinner and when my parents arrived, we ate in silence. The atmosphere was strained and none of us had much of an appetite. After the meal Touya made tea and we sat down in the living room, much like we’d done with Touya's mum the week before. Touya was again possessive, but not behaving so provocatively against my parents. He contented himself with sitting next to me and lacing our fingers together. After that time with his mother I had discovered that he liked holding hands; not in public, but in the company of people close to us. It felt somehow secure and intimate, so I wasn't averse to it.
We had agreed that he would be the one telling the story. I knew he was feeling anxious and ashamed of the things he had done with strangers. I thought he wanted to tell it because he feared that I would tell more of the embarrassing details than it was strictly necessarily;, and maybe to make it sound a little less wrong. To make my parents understand that he wasn't doing these things because he found a forbidden pleasure in them, and that he had changed and wouldn't do it again. To make them feel sympathy for him and let them see that our relationship wasn't 'evil' and he wasn't 'bad for me'.
How wrong I was! He told them everything, unconcealed, unadorned, in its naked reality. He sat there, squeezing my fingers numb, gaze firmly fixed on our entwined hands, and talked flowingly, without stopping or correcting himself. His voice was a bit raw, but even, devoid of any feeling, as if he was reading a news report. Like it wasn't his life that was on the table. He hid his fear behind objectivity. But his words were clearly stating that he knew all too well that it was him who had committed all those things, and he shouldered the blame without having second thoughts. It was like a confession. And he needed it. Needed to tell it someone unaffected, even if this someone would condemn him for what he had done and most likely never want to have anything to do with him again. I had a distinct feeling that behind all this, he wanted me to understand fully what I was in, as if he was having doubts that I really understood. I was hoping that he didn't.
I was so immersed in my thoughts about him, I didn't even realize when he finished his speech. I looked up at the silence and surveyed my parents. My dad was shocked and my mum was in tears. But she looked more sympathetic and willing to understand.
"But… why?" she asked in a low voice that reminded me of the phone call that prompted this evening's confessions.
Touya looked up for the first time. His face seemed shrunken and his eyes were so big and dark. It was the first time that his tone betrayed what he must have felt the whole time.
"I don't know." It sounded so final. And it was his only answer. He could recite everything that had happened with a surgical accuracy, but he couldn't think of a plausible reason behind it all. He just looked at my mother for several very silent seconds.
I let out a heavy breath and, grasping his wrist gently with my other hand, extricated my poor crushed fingers from his loosened grip. His palm was warm and sweaty against mine. He looked up at me as I lifted the arm that was closer to him and pulled him into an embrace. His back was rigid and his muscles were strained, so I rubbed them a bit with my palm. My other hand let go of his wrist, rested his hand on my knee, caressing his spread fingers.
"I think I know why…" I said softly, looking not at my parents but into his eyes. He blinked once and then nodded nearly imperceptibly, encouraging me to tell. And I did. I told him (and my parents) everything of what I thought the reason was: that he had suppressed his feelings; he felt lonely, since his father had all but abandoned him, that; he had to pretend to be something he wasn't, and had fought too hard to retain his control and couldn't continue fighting forever. He had to break, and when he did… at least he had the sense to come to me, even after I had rejected him. And thank God, he didn't do drugs or alcohol.
I don't know how long I spoke. But he looked at me the whole time, almost without blinking and his face went real pale and his lips pressed together into a straight line. After I stopped speaking, he still looked at me for a while, getting paler, and then the corner of his mouth started to tremble, as if he was about to faint. But he didn't.
"That was… that was… How did you…? When even I didn't…? And why didn't you tell me before?" He stood up, his shoulders trembling, and ran out into my old bedroom - our bedroom now.
I looked at my parents, told them that I would be back soon and went after him. He sat on the bed, facing the window. I went to sit next to him and comfort him. I thought he was crying, but he wasn’t. He glanced at me and seemed much calmer than he had been just a few seconds before.
"I… sorry I haven't told you," I stuttered dreadfully. "I just somehow thought that you…"
He smiled that secret little smile at me. "That I knew?" I nodded, puzzled. "No, I… I didn't. Thank you." He kissed me softly, and I was so relieved that he wasn't mad at me that I totally forgot about my parents waiting out there and tackled him down onto the bed, trying to smooch him into next Sunday. After a few blissful minutes he pushed me away, laughing - I had rarely heard him laugh before.
We went back into the living room after tidying ourselves. My parents were a little shell-shocked, but seemed to accept what he had told and started to warm up to him again. We drank our tea and then, because neither of us had eaten much previously, we decided to have a second dinner because "we couldn't let all that food go bad", as my dad said. I have to say that it went much better than the first one. I opened a bottle of wine and that loosened the mood significantly.
After they were gone, I asked Touya if he hadn't wanted to tell this his mother, but his answer was that she knew already. She had known it from the beginning. But she didn't understand. I was the only one who did. And then it dawned on me, that he hadn't thanked me before because I had told him the reason why he had done those things back then, more like because I had understood him when no one else did.
Then came the butterflies again.
----
It was in the middle of the next week that something unforeseen happened, that determined our ensuing lives. We got a call from Amano-san that there were a couple of American journalists inquiring after us. I don't know how he succeeded to talk us into meeting them for an interview - that was the first time after everything had blown up around us that both of us left the apartment together.
We met in a restaurant - not overly pompous, just a neat, quiet place with separate boxes for the tables, so we weren't exposed. The reporters turned out to be a man and a woman, and she looked like one of her parents was Japanese. Amano-san had agreed to accompany them, so I wasn't the only one who couldn't speak English fluently, but it turned out that Amano-san was still a lot better than me. Fortunately I didn't really have to speak, Touya spoke for me too. The conversation lasted nearly three hours.
Surprisingly, they didn't ask about the scandals that had prompted our abrupt leaving of the Japanese Go professionals' society. They asked about our respective careers, about the tournaments we had participated in, the outcomes of matches we had played against Japan's more prominent players, even the Hokuto-cups though they were more than seven years in the past. The only question remotely connected to our private life was if we really were living together as a couple. As we didn't think anything of the question, we answered it according to the truth.
After that, they gave a look to each other. The woman nodded once, and looking at me once again asked in fractured Japanese:
"Shindo-san, do you speak English?"
I was a bit surprised and could only nod. Touya laughed and told them that I had learnt a bit of both English and Korean. And I nodded again, but his laugh prompted me to smile.
After that they thanked us for the interview and we finished our meals with idle conversation. They were somehow intrigued, when we asked about the Go-life in the States, but at that time we didn't know why. When we said good-bye to each other, they promised that they would remain in contact, and send us a copy of the magazine where the interview would be printed.
A week passed, and though we had made that agreement about staying in contact, we didn't anticipate hearing of them so soon. We thought it was just a form of politeness. We were invited to that restaurant again including Amano-san, but this time they haven't said anything about an interview. We decided to go - it wasn't much of a discussion as we both wanted to.
We ordered lunch, and spent the time with conversation again until after the desserts. As the last plate was cleared away from our table, and the ordered bottle of wine arrived, the man (his name was Edward Simons and he followed our future career for a good while) turned toward us and started to speak slowly so I too could understand what he said.
"We have a proposition to you, gentlemen. I am a journalist, but also the secretary of the Go League of the United States. I have authorization to offer the two of you full American citizenship and a place in the League. We offer a place to live for both of you, and a contract for three years. Here are the official documents." He pushed a thick folder towards us and continued in the astounded silence. "We don't expect an answer now, you have time to think it through, look at the contract and other documents, discuss it with your family and - I suppose - between the two of you. The contracts are individual and don't require that both of you accept it, I'm just saying it because we didn't really know what arrangements we should make - with all those… stories currently on the media…" he looked down and frowned, then looked back up, his gaze alternating between at us repeatedly. "Khm.. yes. So we await your answer by the twenty-seventh, that's nearly two weeks time. I hope that will be enough time to make a decision."
I don't really remember what happened afterwards. We were both shocked a bit. They thanked us for our time and left us with Amano-san. When he got back to our table after escorting the Americans to the nearest taxi stand, we had already started to read the papers they had left for us - that is, Touya read them and I tried to peer into them over his shoulder. Finally, he got tired of my constant questioning, put the stack before us on the table, pulled me closer with his arm on my hips, and started to translate the sentences aloud.
It turned out that Amano-san, too, hadn’t known that they didn't want just an interview. He had only known that they seemed seriously interested in our professional track and not our assumed private life. He had thought some positive press could be useful for us. Well, it *was* useful.
We gnawed through all the official papers; Waya had a friend who was a lawyer and was able to look them through for us. Then we spoke with our families - Touya with his mum and I with my parents, who had mixed feelings about us going away to another country, but at last saw that it was better for us than stay and stew in our own juices. As for us - it never was a question if we wanted to go. It was a new, unexpected but all the more treasured opportunity to play again, against each other, be with each other.
On the twenty-third we informed them that we were accepting the proposition. Our citizenship was settled within a month and they told us that they had several houses on sale that we could look at and decide which one we wanted to move in - or name another one of our choosing within the specified prize range.
Our plane was leaving on the twenty-fourth of the following month, and both of our parents and our remaining friends were there to see us off. It was only twelve years later that we set our feet on the land of Japan again.
TBC: Epilogue
A/N: Sorry, I couldn’t post it sooner; RL has derived me of my net access. (Meaning: my boss was all over my shoulder the whole week long.) Ok, there is only the epilogue. I have parts of it written, and I will try to put in a lemon scene, if I don’t f*** it up. :)