11.
Title: Really Long Distance
Features: Yang Hai, Le Ping (a.k.a. mini-Waya)
Summary: Friendly e-mails…and pictures.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: E-mail is the best thing since…fill in whatever you feel is second best. This drabble is for everyone reading this.
Yang popped his head into the cafeteria and searched for his prey, umm, his target, err, a specific person.
Eyes landing on the one he wanted, he braced himself and announced, "Ah Ping, Isumi-kun sent us an e-mail."
It felt like a cannonball impacting on his stomach. The cannonball, in reality, was a young boy named Le Ping. He had became rather attached to Isumi Shinichiro when the Japanese visited China. Sometimes, it was literal, where the younger clung to Isumi's arm or leg. It was endearing…if the leech wasn't on you.
"He included a picture of his friend, Waya," Yang said, rubbing his torso and returning to his room.
"Waya?" said Ping. He was skipping ahead and paused at the unfamiliar name.
Yang sighed at the other's forgetfulness. "You remember, Isumi-san told us his friend, Waya, is like an older version of you – down to the personality."
Ping planted his fists on his hips and glared at the much taller man. He was far from instilling fear into anyone.
"If I was a woman, I'd hug him or pinch his cheek," Yang thought before concentrating on what Ping was saying.
"I AM ORIGINAL!" yelled Ping.
Yang nodded absentmindedly. "Yes, yes, you are original. There's just a guy in Japan with your temper, face shape, body type, features, coloring, hair-style, who is also a Go player…need I go on?"
It was blatant sarcasm. Ping did the only thing he deemed appropriate and blew a raspberry at him. He made sure there was spittle and lots of it.
Yang calmly took out a handkerchief and wiped his face.
"Do it again and I'll order Isumi-kun to ignore you for two months – no e-mails, no letters, and no phone calls."
Ping blanched and immediately begged for forgiveness. "I'm so sorry oh great and wonderful Yang-sama. You are a genius among geniuses. Yang-sama has a kind heart and a merciful soul. Don't punish little Ping for his lack of respect. He is young in years and mind. Yang-sama is the greatest of Go players. Yang-sama –"
"Shush," Yang interrupted, opening the door to his place.
"Shushing, Yang-sama."
Ping was growing up into a smart-ass. He blamed it on Hong Kong dramas and their cliché storylines.
Yang sat down at his desk and used his mouse to click on a folder. "This is Waya."
Ping squinted at the three people in the picture. From left to right were Isumi, Waya, and Hikaru. Waya had Hikaru in a headlock and ruffling his hair while Isumi laughed softly at them. It was a Kodak moment captured on film…digital memory card, whatever. Ping stretched his eyes bigger, then covered his left eye, and then switched to his right.
"Read me the e-mail later," said Ping. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Where are you going?" Yang questioned. It was a pain translating for Ping every e-mail Isumi sent, because he had to hunt him down to do it. He almost regretted learning Japanese.
"I'm calling my parents," replied Ping. "I have to ask them whether or not I have a long-lost brother. Oh! Maybe he's my half-brother, but that would mean one of them would've cheated. That'd suck. Ah! Waya could have been kidnapped as a baby! Yea! That sounds better."
As Ping left, he was still mumbling half-baked scenarios to himself.
Yang shook his head and moaned, "Damn those crappy Hong Kong dramas…"