Title: Breaks and Buds
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go belongs to Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata.
Genre: Pre-slashy.
Characters: Touya Akira and Shindou Hikaru.
Summary: One unfamiliar move begets another.
Author's Note: This ficlet was inspired by, but wound up too long for, round 3 ("Sweet") in a series of drabble prompts by the LiveJournal community hngprompts.
Title is a phrase from the poem "The Morning-Watch" (https :// tspace. library. utoronto. ca/html/1807/4350/poem2234.html) by Henry Vaughan. In slightly more context: "O joys! infinite sweetness! with what flow'rs / And shoots of glory my soul breaks and buds!"
I have no idea whether the picture mentioned (which can be viewed at http ://www4. ocn. ne. jp/7Einigo/) is renowned, is actually a scroll, or is available in poster format... We'll just say it is.
With typical disregard for the Touya salon's rarefied atmosphere and his own safety, Shindou skids into the back room like he's sliding into home plate. Shindou misses Akira's attempt to frown him into penitence--he's calling over his shoulder, "Yeah, coffee, please, Ichikawa-san!" Shindou's acquired the caffeine habit recently--Akira finds it annoying, suspecting it's to compensate for too many late-night parties in the apartment Shindou shares with Waya and Fukui.
Suppressing a sigh, Akira settles himself at the goban. Shindou hooks an ankle around the leg of the facing chair and flops into it.
"Nigiri?"
"Even."
"You're black."
Ichikawa enters, bends to place Shindou's coffee, little jug of cream and sugar bowl (with tongs) and Akira's tea in easy reach. Her smile's an unsettling cross between knowing and teasing. Her knuckle grazes Akira's elbow as she leaves: Do it already.
Akira's regretting the impulse that led him to purchase the rolled poster at his feet.
Pa-chi. Shindou's first move.
Akira breathes in, leans over; his hands close around the cylinder.
"Touya?"
"Your birthday, right?"
Shindou's comically startled, mouth hanging open. No doubt it's the interruption to the game--as atypical for Akira as quiet entrances would be for Shindou. He pushes the poster at Shindou; as the latter takes it, Akira dips his hand into the goke and clacks his own stone smartly onto the board.
Shindou doesn't even look up; his hands make short work of the wrapping. Soon, he's unrolling the poster, gently smoothing it. He stares at the image--a quality reproduction of a renowned scroll depicting Shuusaku seated alone at his goban. Touya fidgets.
When Shindou speaks, Touya barely hears it.
"S-weet."
Suddenly, terrifyingly, Shindou is hugging him. Akira sits rigid. Bleached-dry hair brushes his neck. Shindou smells of chemical hair products and faintly of autumn rain.
Just as quickly, Shindou's back on the right side of the goban, enthusing about the poster and plotting its location on his wall. Akira coughs.
"Your move, Shindou..."
"Can't I be grateful for a bit? Sheesh!" But Shindou's laughing as he reaches for his stone.
Something shifts inside Akira, a seed splitting its skin, a sugar lump dissolving in coffee.
Sweet.