Visibility

By: Calypso Diangelos

Disclaimer: If I owned Hikaru no Go this wouldn't be called fanfic now would it? Don't sue me.

Summary: It takes a rather intangible person to see Ogata Seiji's equally insubstantial phantoms. Any more than that would give away the plot. The beginning of this is rather misleading. [shounen ai] Aki/Hik... in a roundabout way.

"I'm the perfect servant. I see, hear, know everything. They exist. I don't." - Gosford Park (paraphrased)

Kyoko

She always wakes when he unlatches the door. No matter how late it is or how exhausted she feels. It is as if she were connected to the door, so that when the hinges creak something pulls at her brain and tells her to wake up. In the silence, she listens to his uneven footfall. He is more drunk than usual tonight. Tonight, she won't be invisible.

One minute passes.

Two.

The door to her bedroom opens. He waited longer than usual to come to her this time. Automatically, her breathing evens out and her body pretends to be relaxed in sleep. Does he really believe this facade of peace? He falls onto the bed and wraps an arm tightly around her waist. The smell of expensive tobacco and even more expensive alcohol assault her sense. She hates Saki. Tonight, its stench is accompanied by that of another woman's perfume. A prostitute's. "Don't sleep Kyoko, not tonight." His grip tightens till it hurts, forcing her to hiss in pain. "Why do you stay here? Is it pity? Fascination perhaps?" He is cruel tonight. He knows well that she can't leave. "Silly little fool. Do you really think there's anything in here worth pitying?" he's pulled her around to face him, placed one of her hands on his chest. She ignores the erratic beating.

The cruelty becomes too much, but she is incapable of anger. At last, she notices that he's been crying. Eye's red, face blotchy. Has he lost his glasses again? When she reaches out to touch his face, the cruelty crumples. Replaced by tears. Ogata buries his head in her chest and cries like a little boy. Tomorrow, he'll hate her. Tomorrow, he'll make her invisible again to keep himself from hitting her.

She can't breath. He's pushed her onto her back and now his weight keeps her in place so that breathing takes effort. A highly painful effort. Through his tears he notices nothing. When the sobs stop, he doesn't move.

Ten minutes slip by.

Then twenty.

Beneath him, she counts the seconds. At last, she can be certain that he's drifted into sleep. Poor little fool. She slips out from under him, exchanging her wet nightgown for a clean one. Pulling a silk robe on as if it could protect her from the sleeping form on her bed. As quietly as she can, she leaves the room.

He doesn't do this often, at least, he didn't used to do this often. Lately, he's slept in her bed almost as often as in his own. Though he doesn't know it, she understands well the reason. He drinks more, smokes more, and she's the only one who notices. No one except she suspects that he's running. Hiding from a pair of eyes that stare out from a photograph by his own bed.

Bastard, she thinks. Ogata Seiji, do you know how much I hate you? She can't leave. If she does, she'll have to drop out of university. The fact that he provides her with a residence and that he pays her exorbitant amounts of money to cook, clean, and shop for him is the only reason she stays afloat. Kyoko had learned to swallow her pride. She's learned to ignore the smirks when other professional Go players see her living there, to ignore the stares when he drives her to class, to ignore the malicious taunts of her jealous classmates. The stupid ones think she's his lover. The smarter one's think she's his fucktoy. Kyoko often wonders what they'd think if they knew the truth.

She wonders what they'd think if they knew about those green eyes and the photo by his bed.

About a certain unsavory obsession.

She hadn't understood the first time it happened. That first night, she had been terrified.

The door woke her because it had been slammed. She slipped on her robe and stepped out of her bedroom only for him to shove her back in. He had ripped the robe off of her, tearing it so that she'd had to go buy thread and mend it. He had pushed her onto the bed and she had been too shocked to scream. How could this be Ogata Seiji?

Cold, controlled, and always collected Ogata Seiji who only noticed her existence when he signed her paycheck or ate something she had overcooked. That night, she had failed to be invisible.

He had undressed quickly, too quickly for her to notice and when she would've screamed he began to cry. To cry, and to shout. At least, his version of shouting. "Why? Why did he have to choose him? I could've stood it if it's been someone else. A girl even. Why him?" He had the same thing over and over again. She hadn't understood it then. She does now. She understands because she's seen those eyes. Not just in the picture, but in the apartment. Drinking tea and smiling. Blue-green eyes framed by green-black hair. A beautiful boy. A boy who'd chosen someone other than Ogata Seiji. Touya Akira.

Kyoko stops the memories, she doesn't like to think about that night. She doesn't like to think about that night or any night like it. Instead, she picks up the white jacket in the middle of the hallway and drapes it over a chair. A crumpled photograph falls out. She's not sure she wants to see it. Inevitably, her eyes choose not to obey her

Two boys. Younger than even her. Green-black hair, blue-green eyes. Black hair, yellow bangs. Him. So this was the other he. The one that makes Ogata run to her. This was that he. She puts the photo face down on the counter and goes to stand by the window. Needing tot think, wanting to rest, unable to do either.

She shivers with something more than cold. A white jacket slides over her shoulders. She nearly jumps. How did he manage silence when he was so obviously drunk?

"I had a match with him today. When I won, I said the one thing that would hurt him the most." His fingers tangle in her hair, she doesn't look away from the window. "Come to bed." He buries his head near her neck. Not for comfort but for warmth. She follows him back to her room, In the dark, she turns her face from him so he won't be able to look at her eyes.

Blue-green eyes.

She doesn't leave because she can't. He's made sure of this. Because she isn't really invisible; with pretty eyes and green-black hair she can't possibly be invisible. Not to him. Rather, Ogata Seiji has a different definition of visibility.

Fini

Author's Note: I wrote this because some authors in this fandom some really good authors seem to hate the idea of finishing their stories... namely the ones who write about Ogata and Akira/Hikaru from time to time... Calypso pouts. So, on the off chance that I get one of you to like this, how 'bout a deal? You write more, I write more? Sweatdrops Ok, stupid idea. How about everyone just reviews?