Welcome to my second Hikaru no Go fic, Trains. Yet another original title from my brilliant mind. :snorts sarcastically: Anywho, enjoy. This has vague (if you can call them that) references to Kaga/Tsu, which IS shonen-ai. Manlove. Whatever you wish to call it. This fic also displays my love of parentheses quite a lot. Forgive me. (Please.)
Trains
He wondered to himself just why he decided to go on the train. Really, he wondered why anyone would. It was such an unpleasant way to get around. The hot, compacted bodies that occupied them often bumped and bruised Kimihiro's small frame, and no matter how freshly dry-cleaned or pressed the suits and uniforms of the passengers were, it always seemed to have a lingering, stale odor that made his nose wrinkle. Seats were always scarce, which was a pity because they were extremely comfortable, leather-upholstered and perfect for curling up in and finishing extra homework. His house was so far from the launching station, the train was filled to the brim by the time it got to the station nearest him. By that point, even the handholds and bars were becoming scant. To put it bluntly, it really sucked.
Kimihiro's worrisome mother normally transported him to school, and if she worked an early shift, Kaga would drive him on his new moped (he found every excuse to ride it), which he hated, but loved in a strange way. At any rate, this day, his mother was inconveniently on the late shift and Kaga was supposedly "deathly ill", as he so dramatically described it over the phone while attempting an act that sounded like a cross between a wet cat and an opera. This meant that the only other transportation available to him was a) the creepy man across the street who stared at him all the time or b) the train. Somehow, he found himself quickly opting for the train. Unfortunately, not only was the train all of the aforementioned things, it was so unbearably boring. His only comfort was that they didn't want to molest you.
In his mother's car, on the other hand, he had a plethora of things to amuse himself with on the way to his school, which was quite a clip away from his residence: a portable DVD player with headphones that slid underneath his seat, books and graphic novels crammed in the spacious pocket behind it, unsolved crosswords and puzzles stuck between the pages. A white GBA (1) also accompanied him to most locations, with extra games in a small pocket in his bag. He even had a couple of regular old notebooks to write stories and poems in, if batteries were unavailable and brainteasers weren't his cup of tea that particular morning. However, while on the train, he had little to do but think. So, he thought.
That particular day, he began thinking about trains; ironically, it was all he thought about the whole way there. After a bit of deliberation, he found that trains reminded him of life in a rather melancholy way (or maybe it was because he was in a particularly dreadful mood): people attached their many troubles, worries, and concerns to themselves like the many cars of a train, pulling their steadily growing loads behind them and letting them accumulate to such a degree that, eventually, everything simply derails and nothing is left but the broken remains. Trains derailed for the same basic reasons, he reasoned. A malfunctioning brake, a glitch in a computer system could be the straw that breaks the camel's back and the train could crash, destroying the lives of the unsuspecting passengers as well. The brakes of life were often unforgiving. This thought only made him more upset, and he shifted his weight onto his other leg.
Kaga had many problems trailing behind him. His strict, overdemanding father, his angry and defeated mother. His stupid cigarette habit, his responsibility as the new Shogi captain, head of a team full of reprobate underclassmen and…Kimihiro himself, for that matter. His lingering presence in Kaga's life sprouted a whole new category of issues to be dealt with or tossed aside; he hoped he wouldn't be tossed away someday...as if that would happen. Kaga would NEVER pass high school if he did that. He sighed and tightened his lax and sweaty grip on the handhold he had managed to capture. His legs were getting really tired, and he could've sworn his arm had fallen off at the shoulder from the aching. He looked around desperately for an empty seat. Finding none, he sighed dejectedly and resumed his thoughts.
Kimihiro had his own troubles as well. Keeping his way-above-average grades up, an overprotective, sheltering mother (he hadn't learned what sex really entailed until the sixth grade from; surprise, surprise: Kaga), a father he had never met and apparently would never meet, and...Kaga. He vexed and fussed and fretted over Kaga like an old granny. He could only assume that he got it from his mother. This month alone he had given him three "smoking-is-bad-for-you-why-do-you-never-listen-to-me" speeches; he sometimes struggled to get to sleep because he worried so much about him; where he was, was his mom treating him okay. It had become a part of him; Kaga had become a part of him.
They were both an equal part of each other, he realized. Each depended on one another for…something or another. Kaga wanted-well, he wanted a lot of things. He stopped that thought as he felt heat rise to his face. Kimihiro began wanting other things too, but he had never forgotten his first and greatest desire: a real friend, one he could share anything and everything with. Over the course of his life, he had gained many; Hikaru had become one of the closest. He had even patched things up…sort of, with Mitani-mostly for Akari's sake. But, before any of that, way back when, in the worst time of his life, Kaga was always there, in some form or another. He wondered to himself forebodingly: what would happen if they crashed?
He thought he knew, but really, nobody knew what would happen next, especially with a guy like Kaga Tetsuo. Maybe it was better that way. As the cramped train pulled into his stop, he sighed in relief and squinted as a ray of sunlight hit him in the eyes, noticing Kaga hiding discreetly (or what he would like to think was discreetly) behind a telephone pole. He rolled his eyes and picked up his heavy bookbag, smiling warmly to himself; it seemed to him their course was going steadily enough.
ende
Wow, that was a very one-shotty one shot (is that a word?) It is now! :adds to Micro Word dictionary: Barely got to 1,000 words…--; Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!
(1). For those of you who do not know what a GBA is, it is a Game Boy Advance. I assumed that Hikaru no Go doesn't occur in the immediate present, and that GBAs came out earlier over there. White is a cool color.