but it's hard not to notice his presence when his presence becomes everything.

[protential]

[Somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors, Hikaru has to stop and catch her breath. She doesn't want to stop--she's possessed with the idea that she can't stop until she reaches the very top, and gets out onto the roof proper--but having a very sedentary profession is kind of a problem. More of a problem than she might've thought. Her entire body feels drenched with sweat, and the coursing adrenaline from earlier can't carry her any farther than this. It's actually disgusting, the way her clothing clings to her hips, and her breasts, and it's all smeared down her back, rapidly cooling off. She shivers, groaning into the palm of her hand. If someone else were here in this stairwell, they'd probably think there's a noisy ghost or something haunting the place. A ghost with...

Hikaru's hands are empty, she realizes. That isn't good. Really, if she dropped the fan on the way up here, she'll have to go back down and get it... She'll have to do that. But something stronger, deeper, darker, more like a riptide than a suggestion, is telling her to keep going. She grits her teeth against a fresh wave of despair, then pulls herself up another step, another two steps, three. Anything to get away from where she came from. Standing there at the awards ceremony was one of the most humiliating things she's ever had to do. It was like that nightmare where she shows up for school buck naked, with everyone staring at her, laughing at her, revolted by her, except this was very real and the stakes couldn't have been higher. Her decision to leave the ballroom early felt liberating for all of five seconds before it just felt like she was running away like a coward.

She reaches the landing of the fifth floor before it's too much, too much on her calves, her ankles, and she has to sit down. The wheeze of her breathing becomes its own laughter, quiet and helpless, rising and falling in pitch. If she doesn't hurry up, Touya's going to come find her; Touya's gonna beat the shit out of her. Maybe not physically, but... There is no end. Fine words, very fine words, but Touya's got to be as disappointed as anybody else--even more disappointed, after she allowed Hikaru to take her place as first board. Hikaru didn't play a game anywhere near worthy of Sai, much less the first board position, much less Touya Akira herself. Touya's got to be out for blood right now.

Then: an approach of footsteps, somewhere down below. The granite echo makes them harder to pinpoint, which also makes them more terrifying.] Please, [Hikaru whispers, and she doesn't know what she's praying for, much less who she's praying to when she does it. All of her prayers over the board amounted to nothing, right?

She buries her face in her hands, then. It's the only thing she can think to do.]

Comments

[protential]

[This is the closest they have ever been, ever, and Hikaru doesn't know why she isn't satisfied with it. She doesn't know why she can't be satisfied with everything Touya has already given her. Having Touya's fingers interwoven with her own--that should be more than enough to satiate her, this chance to hold hands with the smartest, most talented person in the whole world. She shouldn't ask for more than this after how badly she fucked up in the tournament. And Touya has these beautiful hands, you know, that look like they were carved out of marble, like they're going to be cold and hard and unyielding, but it turns out they're anything but. Just the brush of fingers at Hikaru's neck draws the softest half-gasp out of her throat in response. She sounds like she's being tickled in slow motion, and her body seems to shift fully with the possibility, flinching away and then back in. She squirms. (She wants more of it.) It's already starting to hurt her head to think of Touya being willing to touch her like this. Touya's fingers, so carefully crafted, would be made better with fine silks and irreplaceable jewelry. There's nothing to be gained from stroking a bottom-feeder like Shindou Hikaru.]

You don't have to, [Hikaru mumbles.

But this really is the closest they've ever been to each other. They've sat on the same side of the board, studying kifu, and they've grazed fingertips while exchanging captured stones, and one time Hikaru picked a stray leaf out of Touya's hair when it got caught on a windy autumn day... but this is something completely different. There's little else to focus on beyond what Touya is doing to her, and why Touya shouldn't have to do it, and how much Hikaru doesn't deserve to have it done in the first place.]

You've done so much already, so it's not like you have to... You don't have to do anything for me, or with me... [She might be cringing against Touya's shoulder, ashamed of herself, of her wants and her needs. Even so, she doesn't stop Touya from leading her over to the edge of the bed, and she doesn't stop herself from dropping the fan and Touya's handkerchief onto the bedspread. Strangely, she feels as though she's stuck on autopilot, like she can't choose what's she's going to do next. She starting to feel disconnected from her own fucking body, except for the places Touya is touching and keeping anchored to reality.

She looks up at Touya, bleary-eyed, and now she has no idea what might be showing on her face, in the shape of her mouth, whatever. She's tired, yeah. She's exhausted. She wants to sleep for a little bit. But even though she's telling Touya she doesn't have to, at all, the tenacity of her fingers and the dark quality of her eyes suggest otherwise. Her heart likely wouldn't forgive Touya for leaving her alone right now. Even though Touya should be screaming at her, and telling her to find a new rival, she wouldn't be able to forgive it... The comforter is only the first blanket on a typical hotel bed, but she doesn't need to peel back any more than that. She's the first to climb under it, too, with Touya following after her, and it's neither too warm nor too cold an arrangement. They're still holding hands, which would be kind of awkward if Hikaru didn't insist on having it just as much. This is like what a couple of chaste lovers would do, just lying in bed side by side, just holding hands. Just resisting every temptation to explore. But Hikaru still isn't satisfied with any of it: Touya barely has a chance to get settled in before Hikaru's turning onto her side, facing Touya, ruddy and withdrawn in the room's dim light. Then she's tilting over that much more, nestling in and against Touya properly, a fledgling in hiding from harsh, bitter winds.

Then she says,] I'm sorry I lost that game, [and her voice is rough, and it's raw, like she could start crying again if she gave in. She isn't saying she's sorry because she feels bad about it--which she does--or because she let down her team--which she did--but because she took away an important game from Touya herself. She owes Touya a personal apology for every last moku that went wrong, and that's what this is, that's what she's saying, one painful syllable at a time.]