There's something about mornings.
Maybe it's the peace he only ever seems to catch in that quiet moment before the rest of the world stirs to life, or maybe it's the joy that comes of realising the day is a blank slate in front of him, ready and waiting for whatever he might choose to fill it with, but Akira has always loved early morning the best. He doesn't always manage to wake in time to catch the dawn, but whenever possible, he tries to – it makes him feel calm, for the rest of the day.
He does make certain, though, to wake early the morning of an important match, and sit with a cup of green tea in front of a window, watching the sun wake up. It's a private superstition, almost, like his refusal to eat in the middle of a game – Go is significant, and should be acknowledged in some way beyond the simple placing of the stones. An odd way of showing his respect, he supposes, but then, in the world of Go, that 'odd' is so tiny that in contrast, his eccentricity seems perfectly normal.
The apartment is east-facing. It hadn't been a deliberate choice, but a happy coincidence, one he hadn't noticed until the first night they had slept there. He had woken up to the sun in his face – they had forgotten to draw the blinds – and a sleepily grumpy Hikaru, demanding that he 'shut the curtains, kaa-san, 's too early for school'. Akira had smiled, and watched the sunlight trace its way across the floor until the alarm went off.
Their little apartment is a place of firsts. First night, first morning, first kitchen, first heating bill – first home of his own. First love, perhaps, although arguably that had started much, much earlier.
The first time Akira had deliberately woken to watch the dawn, Hikaru had grumbled and flapped about, half-asleep, trying to pull him back down onto the futon. Akira had murmured something comforting and shoved his hand back down into the blankets, then walked to the kitchen for his tea. He'd spent that sunrise trying to make out the fading stars above Tokyo's bright glare of light, and wondering at the soft, snuffling breath from his right. He'd sat and waited for the world to begin again, with a smile that wasn't entirely born of tranquillity.
Today, though, Akira's important match coincides with Hikaru's. Another first. They will be playing each other in the Room of Profound Darkness in somewhat more than four hours, and Akira isn't surprised when Hikaru's knee brushes his own as Hikaru settles down beneath the window.
His mug is instant coffee, whilst Akira's is the same tea he always drinks in these moments, and Akira thinks that many people would be surprised by this Hikaru, sat silent and still for no reason but to wait. This is a side of Hikaru that very few people get to see, and Akira treasures every quiet glimpse he is given.
When the sun has risen, and the brash sounds of morning traffic begin to echo from the street, they stand. Akira catches Hikaru's arms as he stumbles, feet a little numb from the slightly odd seat, and smiles. 'Good luck,' Akira says, and Hikaru grins fiercely back at him.
They both know that luck has nothing to do with anything.