Title: Alcoholic Poisoning (or The Side Effects of Excessive Drinking)
Part: 1 of 4?
Author: Sakurayuki (akihika520@yahoo.co.nz)
Rating: R
Parings: Oga/Hika and/or Hika/Aki
Summary: Hikaru learns some interesting things about Ogata.
Author's Notes: I managed to write a short story in a sitting! (Misquoting Sir Edgar Allen Poe, really.) Well, one part of a short story, anyway. If you like it, let me know and I'll continue on. I am not sure about the pairing yet, though I hope it will turn out to be Hika/Aki as opposed to Seiji/Hika. ^0^ CHANSLASH warning, I suppose.
--sakusaku
***
Hikaru knew of a terrific place to eat fried pork on rice. That place cooked it to perfection; the choice of meat was tender and tasty, the cruchiness of breadcrumbs just right. The rice was neither too moist nor too hard; and it had the resilience that rice should have when you bite into that spoonful. The sauce was sweet yet sour, and completed the dish to perfection. Hikaru could go on forever about it.
As he took another bite of pork, he also wondered why the restaurant had to be located in one of the dingier places of Tokyo. It was a little shop with a traditional, Japanese decor. He admitted that the place could use a little scrubbing, but Hikaru knew to judge a restaurant by it's food rather than it's ambience.
He shuddered as a scantily clad girl grinned toothily at him. It was obvious to him what her profession was. The patrons who sat by the grill were obviously bored husbands who spent their nights in this district on a daily basis. Their business suits didn't fool anyone either. God, his mother would kill him if she knew that he was in this area. Thank god he didn't live at home anymore.
He finished his food, grabbed his backpack, and paid the bill at the counter, unwilling to stay longer than was necessary. Just as he shut the door behind him, he heard a loud shout of laughter from the bar next door to the restaurant. He shook his head in disgust as a man came stumbling out, barely able to maintain his balance. Hikaru hoped that he would have more maturity than that if he ever took to the drink. He was turning away, when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder, and he nearly shouted in surprise.
Hikaru froze in shock before trying to shrug the hand off and walk away, ignoring the culprit. He hoped it wasn't that dodgy looking drunk that had just tumbled out of that bar. Hikaru had had his share of strange men making moves on him, and didn't particularly want the experiences repeated. Damn that restaurant and their tempting pork on rice. Why did they have to locate themselves between a pub and a whore house? He swallowed thickly when the grip on his shoulder tightened.
"Get off me!!" he yelled, whirling round. "You perve-... Ogata sensei?"
Hikaru managed to support the pro who had pronouncedly tripped over his own legs. "Ogata sensei... is that really you?"
It certainly was. The blonde hair and distinctive nose could belong to no one else. The hair may have been tousled, and his face may have been a blaring red; but there was no mistake. It was the 10 dan, Ogata Seiji, who seemed to have consumed more alcohol than his aquarium had water.
"Sensei, it's Shindou." Hikaru groaned as he tried to help Ogata stand up straight. Damn, the man reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. "Sensei, it's Shindou! Shindou! Can you hear me? Would you like me to call a cab for you?!"
Hikaru nearly sighed in relief when Ogata managed to stand solidly for a mere five seconds. "I know it's you, you idiot,"he muttered almost incoherently, as he wavered and swayed like a palm tree. "Why the hell did you think I stopped you? Stop goddam shouting and- ahh!!"
He'd tripped again, and Hikaru nearly toppled over as well when he caught him. jesus, this was weird. Why hadn't he left the restaurant even just a minute earlier? Then he wouldn't have had to involved in this... this ordeal. Hikaru was neither oblivious to those giggling hookers who were laughing from next door. He frowned darkly. Damn, Ogata was heavy. Wait... why was Ogata suddenly putting all of his weight on him?
"Are you alright, Sensei?" he tried to ask in what seemed like concerned tones. His grip on the man tightened when he didn't get a response. "...Sensei? Sensei?!"
Oh fuck, no! Hikaru thought he stared bewilderedly down at the mess of a man leaning on him. I think he's passed out on me. Oh god, what the hell do I do now?!
It seemed that the most logical thing to do was to get Ogata home. That wouldn't have been too hard, if Hikaru had knew where the jerk lived. Which he didn't.
***
"And that's why I need his address, Touya. So for god's sake, would you please just tell me where he lives!?" Hikaru was nearly yelling now. He'd been on the phone nearly ten minutes, and still hadn't managed to squeeze the address out of his friend. "Why don't you believe me?!"
"I do believe you," Akira insisted. "But... it's not you I don't trust."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hikaru asked curiously. He had meant for his question to sound far more biting, but he wondered if Touya knew something that he didn't. "You seem to be implying something about Ogata sensei, Touya."
Akira paused for a moment, as if he were considereing whether to share his thoughts. Hikaru sighed at the silence. "Go on!" he urged.
"Alright, alright," Akira said at last. "I'm sure you know that there was a formal match between Kuwabara and Ogata sensei today. I heard from my father that Ogata was forced to resign from the game."
"So he decided to go on a drinking binge because he lost?" Hikaru asked incredulously. He supposed it was like Ochi and his toilet stall tendencies.
"Well, it's not the first time," Akira admitted. "It's rather pathetic, but Ashiwara-san has told me that... well, it's not safe to be around him when he's like that."
That settled it. He wasn't sure what it was that Touya was trying to suggest, but Hikaru decided then and there that he was not going to take Ogata sensei home. But... well, at least he should make sure that he got into the cab safely. You never knew with stealing thugs in this type of area. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll just ask the cab driver to see that he makes it as far as the door of his place. Now will you give me his address?"
Akira gave it to him, and Hikaru scribbled it on a notepad from his backpack..
"Are we still on for the game tomorrow?" Akira asked. It was Friday, and it was customary that they met in his father's Go salon for their weekly game.
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."
Hikaru hung up and walked back to the bench where Ogata was slumped over. He knew it hadn't been the safest idea to leave the unconsious man by himself, but he hadn't been sure he could manage carrying the man all the way to the phone box. One of these days, when Hikaru could afford it, he was going to get a cellphone. He tried shaking Ogata by the shoulders in an attempt to wake him up.
Ogata stirred a little, but otherwise there was no sign of life. Hikaru felt a little pang of sympathy for the older man. He must have been really distraught by the results of the game to turn his pride over and drink till he was a sick pig.
Hikaru sighed and looked round. They were the only ones at the taxi stand, and strangely, there were no taxis waiting there either. Hikaru pushed the button by the taxi sign, and a little light flashed beneath it. They'd just have to wait.
As they waited, it suddenly occured to Hikaru that Ogata might be too drunk to pay the driver when he arrived home. Hikaru didn't want to break his promise to Touya by going with him just to make sure, nor was he sure wanted to know why Touya was so anxious for him not to see the sensei home. Hopefully Ogata had his wallet on him.
"Sensei," he said, feeling rather stupid for talking to a man who was so obviously blacked out, "I'm going to search your pockets for your wallet. For the cab," he added loudly for any passers by to hear. He proceeded to pat the breast pockets for any sign of bumps or bugles.
Hmm, no, not here either, Hikaru thought to himself as he searched Ogata's jacket pockets. He'd found a silver lighter though, which Hikaru didn't think was just any cheap, old thing. It had something engraved on it in English, but he wasn't sure what the words meant. Not that it really mattered, he supposed.
Well, it only left the pockets in Ogata's trousers.
Dear god, Hikaru thought. I don't really have to go through those, do I? The thought really did make him a little nervous. What would it look like, stuffing his hand down another man's pants?! Damn, that even sounded wrong. But he had to find the wallet, or there'd be trouble later on. Hikaru didn't think his own wallet had enough money to help pay for Ogata AND his own subway ticket too.
"Uh... I'm still searching for your wallet, Sensei," he voiced again, lamely. Hikaru wasn't exactly sure why he felt he had to express it verbally, but the guilt factor did seem to lessen a bit after. After all, he had given the man warning. Even if he didn't exactly hear it.
He awkwardly patted the man's right pocket and was relieved to feel a rectangular shaped appendage protruding slightly from Ogata's trousers. Unfortunately, the relief was gone when he realized that the hard part (no pun intended) was just about to begin.
Hikaru now had to retrieve it.
He quickly glanced around, trying to assure himself that there was no audience to witness this mortifying moment. Hikaru timidly slid his hand into Ogata's pocket until it was in knuckle deep.
God!! He thought wildy, practically in awe. The man's biceps were hard as rock! He withdrew his hand quickly in embarrassment. Hikaru hadn't meant to make contact with Ogata's body through the cloth, but the pocket wasn't loosely hugging him either. He briefly wondered if all Go players were meant to have thighs that were so ... chiseled. Perhaps Hikaru had better start taking up sports again.
Hikaru swallowed whatever it was in his throat, and inhaled a deep breath. I can do this, he told himself. He wasn't attracted to the man, or any man for that matter. Heck, he didn't even know why he was so bothered by all of this. He decided to abruptly ignore the strange tension building up somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
Taking in one more deep breath, Hikaru slid his hand beneath the fabric again. He tried to keep a straight face as he ventured in further. It was so damn warm inside! Hell, heat just radiated off the man. Hikaru couldn't help thinking again about how hard Ogata's biceps were. There was no way that the sensei did not work out. He probably had his own personal gym too where he exercised in his sweaty, white singlet and exposing sports shorts. At that thought, Hikaru felt blood rush to his face... and another part of his body too. He shook the mental image away and tried to move in another inch.
Hikaru was down in Ogata's pockets to his wrists when he suddenly realized that the reason he couldn't reach any further was because of the man's sitting position. The pocket was creased between where Ogata's hip joined his thigh. He'd have to straighten the sensei's posture in order to reach it, and Ogata was in no state to help him by moving. Hikaru would have to lift him up himself.
Hand still deep in the sensei's *pocket*, Hikaru bit his lip as he slid his other arm tentatively around Ogata's slim, sculpted waist. Hikaru also wished that he'd stop thinking and adding adjectives to describe the other man's body parts. When he managed a firm hold on Ogata's hip, he heaved the man up with a grunt. With remarkable effort, he managed to lift the 10 dan up slightly, while he struggled with his other hand to delve deeper for the wallet. God, Hikaru's cheek was leaning against his chest in this intimate position!
Hikaru horrified himself by feeling a familiar tingling sensation in his cock. Oh shit!! he thought in shock. I am not getting aroused by this!! Terrifed by the realization, he rapidly grabbed the wallet and nearly dropped Ogata sensei to the ground in his haste.
Hikaru relentlessly tried to will the buring feeling in his groin away... to some avail, much to his ease. He couldn't believe he had just been turned on by Ogata, much less a male. He hoped it would never happen again, and that no one ever found out about this. After he had arranged Ogata on the bench again, he distanced himself a little further from him.
Anyway, Hikaru had retrieved the wallet now, so he turned to the wa...
To the half finished box of cigarettes. The rectangular, wallet-sized, box of cigarettes.
Hikaru's mouth fell open before he pronounced a very long and colorful string of cuss words. Goddamit. He was NOT going to go through the man's back pockets now. No, he was not going to get a feel or a pat of Ogata's arse, because no, that was not his intention anyway. No no no no no. He'd already tried his best to get past Ogata's thighs and all he'd found were a damn pack of cancer stick. STICKS! Plural, not singular. Cancer STICKS. Ah hell, cigarettes. Damn, Hikaru couldn't even think the word 'sticks' without blushing now.
He squinted as a pair of headlights suddenly flashed at him in the distance. It drew nearer and nearer, and then slowly braked at the stand. A tired old man stuck his head out the window and called to Hikaru, who leapt another mile from Ogata.
"You need a cab, kid?"
Hikaru nodded numbly. It took him a moment before his voice would work properly again.
"Actually, it's him," he said, pointing at the 10 dan. "He's uh, had a little too much to drink and he's kinda passed out."
"You're stating the obvious, kid. Where's he going?"
Hikaru showed him his notepad and the driver nodded in knowledge. "Yeah, okay. He got any money on him?"
Hikaru froze. "I-I don't know..." he said lamely.
"Well I ain't gonna be giving any free rides! You have any money on you?"
In the end, Hikaru had no choice but to empty his own wallet at the driver's estimate of the cost. He had the feeling the driver wasn't being totally honest, and had added a couple hundred yen, but Hikaru couldn't be bothered disputing the case. He was too exhausted, though he wasn't entirely sure by why.
"Will you make sure he gets inside his place before you go?" Hikaru asked.
The driver made a sound of assent, and drove off, leaving Hikaru still standing alone at the stop. Well, Hikaru would have to walk home, but he felt that the cold air would do him so good anyway.
To be continued.
-- you know what? I just realized I wrote in several tenses. =) Ah well, I'll fix it up. Someday.
--sakusaku
Author's Notes: I managed to write a short story in a sitting! (Misquoting Sir Edgar Allen Poe, really.) Well, one part of a short story, anyway. If you like it, let me know and I'll continue on. I am not sure about the pairing yet, though I hope it will turn out to be Hika/Aki as opposed to Seiji/Hika. ^0^ CHANSLASH warning, I suppose.
--sakusaku
***
Hikaru knew of a terrific place to eat fried pork on rice. That place cooked it to perfection; the choice of meat was tender and tasty, the cruchiness of breadcrumbs just right. The rice was neither too moist nor too hard; and it had the resilience that rice should have when you bite into that spoonful. The sauce was sweet yet sour, and completed the dish to perfection. Hikaru could go on forever about it.
As he took another bite of pork, he also wondered why the restaurant had to be located in one of the dingier places of Tokyo. It was a little shop with a traditional, Japanese decor. He admitted that the place could use a little scrubbing, but Hikaru knew to judge a restaurant by it's food rather than it's ambience.
He shuddered as a scantily clad girl grinned toothily at him. It was obvious to him what her profession was. The patrons who sat by the grill were obviously bored husbands who spent their nights in this district on a daily basis. Their business suits didn't fool anyone either. God, his mother would kill him if she knew that he was in this area. Thank god he didn't live at home anymore.
He finished his food, grabbed his backpack, and paid the bill at the counter, unwilling to stay longer than was necessary. Just as he shut the door behind him, he heard a loud shout of laughter from the bar next door to the restaurant. He shook his head in disgust as a man came stumbling out, barely able to maintain his balance. Hikaru hoped that he would have more maturity than that if he ever took to the drink. He was turning away, when he was suddenly grabbed by the shoulder, and he nearly shouted in surprise.
Hikaru froze in shock before trying to shrug the hand off and walk away, ignoring the culprit. He hoped it wasn't that dodgy looking drunk that had just tumbled out of that bar. Hikaru had had his share of strange men making moves on him, and didn't particularly want the experiences repeated. Damn that restaurant and their tempting pork on rice. Why did they have to locate themselves between a pub and a whore house? He swallowed thickly when the grip on his shoulder tightened.
"Get off me!!" he yelled, whirling round. "You perve-... Ogata sensei?"
Hikaru managed to support the pro who had pronouncedly tripped over his own legs. "Ogata sensei... is that really you?"
It certainly was. The blonde hair and distinctive nose could belong to no one else. The hair may have been tousled, and his face may have been a blaring red; but there was no mistake. It was the 10 dan, Ogata Seiji, who seemed to have consumed more alcohol than his aquarium had water.
"Sensei, it's Shindou." Hikaru groaned as he tried to help Ogata stand up straight. Damn, the man reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. "Sensei, it's Shindou! Shindou! Can you hear me? Would you like me to call a cab for you?!"
Hikaru nearly sighed in relief when Ogata managed to stand solidly for a mere five seconds. "I know it's you, you idiot,"he muttered almost incoherently, as he wavered and swayed like a palm tree. "Why the hell did you think I stopped you? Stop goddam shouting and- ahh!!"
He'd tripped again, and Hikaru nearly toppled over as well when he caught him. jesus, this was weird. Why hadn't he left the restaurant even just a minute earlier? Then he wouldn't have had to involved in this... this ordeal. Hikaru was neither oblivious to those giggling hookers who were laughing from next door. He frowned darkly. Damn, Ogata was heavy. Wait... why was Ogata suddenly putting all of his weight on him?
"Are you alright, Sensei?" he tried to ask in what seemed like concerned tones. His grip on the man tightened when he didn't get a response. "...Sensei? Sensei?!"
Oh fuck, no! Hikaru thought he stared bewilderedly down at the mess of a man leaning on him. I think he's passed out on me. Oh god, what the hell do I do now?!
It seemed that the most logical thing to do was to get Ogata home. That wouldn't have been too hard, if Hikaru had knew where the jerk lived. Which he didn't.
***
"And that's why I need his address, Touya. So for god's sake, would you please just tell me where he lives!?" Hikaru was nearly yelling now. He'd been on the phone nearly ten minutes, and still hadn't managed to squeeze the address out of his friend. "Why don't you believe me?!"
"I do believe you," Akira insisted. "But... it's not you I don't trust."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hikaru asked curiously. He had meant for his question to sound far more biting, but he wondered if Touya knew something that he didn't. "You seem to be implying something about Ogata sensei, Touya."
Akira paused for a moment, as if he were considereing whether to share his thoughts. Hikaru sighed at the silence. "Go on!" he urged.
"Alright, alright," Akira said at last. "I'm sure you know that there was a formal match between Kuwabara and Ogata sensei today. I heard from my father that Ogata was forced to resign from the game."
"So he decided to go on a drinking binge because he lost?" Hikaru asked incredulously. He supposed it was like Ochi and his toilet stall tendencies.
"Well, it's not the first time," Akira admitted. "It's rather pathetic, but Ashiwara-san has told me that... well, it's not safe to be around him when he's like that."
That settled it. He wasn't sure what it was that Touya was trying to suggest, but Hikaru decided then and there that he was not going to take Ogata sensei home. But... well, at least he should make sure that he got into the cab safely. You never knew with stealing thugs in this type of area. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll just ask the cab driver to see that he makes it as far as the door of his place. Now will you give me his address?"
Akira gave it to him, and Hikaru scribbled it on a notepad from his backpack..
"Are we still on for the game tomorrow?" Akira asked. It was Friday, and it was customary that they met in his father's Go salon for their weekly game.
"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow."
Hikaru hung up and walked back to the bench where Ogata was slumped over. He knew it hadn't been the safest idea to leave the unconsious man by himself, but he hadn't been sure he could manage carrying the man all the way to the phone box. One of these days, when Hikaru could afford it, he was going to get a cellphone. He tried shaking Ogata by the shoulders in an attempt to wake him up.
Ogata stirred a little, but otherwise there was no sign of life. Hikaru felt a little pang of sympathy for the older man. He must have been really distraught by the results of the game to turn his pride over and drink till he was a sick pig.
Hikaru sighed and looked round. They were the only ones at the taxi stand, and strangely, there were no taxis waiting there either. Hikaru pushed the button by the taxi sign, and a little light flashed beneath it. They'd just have to wait.
As they waited, it suddenly occured to Hikaru that Ogata might be too drunk to pay the driver when he arrived home. Hikaru didn't want to break his promise to Touya by going with him just to make sure, nor was he sure wanted to know why Touya was so anxious for him not to see the sensei home. Hopefully Ogata had his wallet on him.
"Sensei," he said, feeling rather stupid for talking to a man who was so obviously blacked out, "I'm going to search your pockets for your wallet. For the cab," he added loudly for any passers by to hear. He proceeded to pat the breast pockets for any sign of bumps or bugles.
Hmm, no, not here either, Hikaru thought to himself as he searched Ogata's jacket pockets. He'd found a silver lighter though, which Hikaru didn't think was just any cheap, old thing. It had something engraved on it in English, but he wasn't sure what the words meant. Not that it really mattered, he supposed.
Well, it only left the pockets in Ogata's trousers.
Dear god, Hikaru thought. I don't really have to go through those, do I? The thought really did make him a little nervous. What would it look like, stuffing his hand down another man's pants?! Damn, that even sounded wrong. But he had to find the wallet, or there'd be trouble later on. Hikaru didn't think his own wallet had enough money to help pay for Ogata AND his own subway ticket too.
"Uh... I'm still searching for your wallet, Sensei," he voiced again, lamely. Hikaru wasn't exactly sure why he felt he had to express it verbally, but the guilt factor did seem to lessen a bit after. After all, he had given the man warning. Even if he didn't exactly hear it.
He awkwardly patted the man's right pocket and was relieved to feel a rectangular shaped appendage protruding slightly from Ogata's trousers. Unfortunately, the relief was gone when he realized that the hard part (no pun intended) was just about to begin.
Hikaru now had to retrieve it.
He quickly glanced around, trying to assure himself that there was no audience to witness this mortifying moment. Hikaru timidly slid his hand into Ogata's pocket until it was in knuckle deep.
God!! He thought wildy, practically in awe. The man's biceps were hard as rock! He withdrew his hand quickly in embarrassment. Hikaru hadn't meant to make contact with Ogata's body through the cloth, but the pocket wasn't loosely hugging him either. He briefly wondered if all Go players were meant to have thighs that were so ... chiseled. Perhaps Hikaru had better start taking up sports again.
Hikaru swallowed whatever it was in his throat, and inhaled a deep breath. I can do this, he told himself. He wasn't attracted to the man, or any man for that matter. Heck, he didn't even know why he was so bothered by all of this. He decided to abruptly ignore the strange tension building up somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
Taking in one more deep breath, Hikaru slid his hand beneath the fabric again. He tried to keep a straight face as he ventured in further. It was so damn warm inside! Hell, heat just radiated off the man. Hikaru couldn't help thinking again about how hard Ogata's biceps were. There was no way that the sensei did not work out. He probably had his own personal gym too where he exercised in his sweaty, white singlet and exposing sports shorts. At that thought, Hikaru felt blood rush to his face... and another part of his body too. He shook the mental image away and tried to move in another inch.
Hikaru was down in Ogata's pockets to his wrists when he suddenly realized that the reason he couldn't reach any further was because of the man's sitting position. The pocket was creased between where Ogata's hip joined his thigh. He'd have to straighten the sensei's posture in order to reach it, and Ogata was in no state to help him by moving. Hikaru would have to lift him up himself.
Hand still deep in the sensei's *pocket*, Hikaru bit his lip as he slid his other arm tentatively around Ogata's slim, sculpted waist. Hikaru also wished that he'd stop thinking and adding adjectives to describe the other man's body parts. When he managed a firm hold on Ogata's hip, he heaved the man up with a grunt. With remarkable effort, he managed to lift the 10 dan up slightly, while he struggled with his other hand to delve deeper for the wallet. God, Hikaru's cheek was leaning against his chest in this intimate position!
Hikaru horrified himself by feeling a familiar tingling sensation in his cock. Oh shit!! he thought in shock. I am not getting aroused by this!! Terrifed by the realization, he rapidly grabbed the wallet and nearly dropped Ogata sensei to the ground in his haste.
Hikaru relentlessly tried to will the buring feeling in his groin away... to some avail, much to his ease. He couldn't believe he had just been turned on by Ogata, much less a male. He hoped it would never happen again, and that no one ever found out about this. After he had arranged Ogata on the bench again, he distanced himself a little further from him.
Anyway, Hikaru had retrieved the wallet now, so he turned to the wa...
To the half finished box of cigarettes. The rectangular, wallet-sized, box of cigarettes.
Hikaru's mouth fell open before he pronounced a very long and colorful string of cuss words. Goddamit. He was NOT going to go through the man's back pockets now. No, he was not going to get a feel or a pat of Ogata's arse, because no, that was not his intention anyway. No no no no no. He'd already tried his best to get past Ogata's thighs and all he'd found were a damn pack of cancer stick. STICKS! Plural, not singular. Cancer STICKS. Ah hell, cigarettes. Damn, Hikaru couldn't even think the word 'sticks' without blushing now.
He squinted as a pair of headlights suddenly flashed at him in the distance. It drew nearer and nearer, and then slowly braked at the stand. A tired old man stuck his head out the window and called to Hikaru, who leapt another mile from Ogata.
"You need a cab, kid?"
Hikaru nodded numbly. It took him a moment before his voice would work properly again.
"Actually, it's him," he said, pointing at the 10 dan. "He's uh, had a little too much to drink and he's kinda passed out."
"You're stating the obvious, kid. Where's he going?"
Hikaru showed him his notepad and the driver nodded in knowledge. "Yeah, okay. He got any money on him?"
Hikaru froze. "I-I don't know..." he said lamely.
"Well I ain't gonna be giving any free rides! You have any money on you?"
In the end, Hikaru had no choice but to empty his own wallet at the driver's estimate of the cost. He had the feeling the driver wasn't being totally honest, and had added a couple hundred yen, but Hikaru couldn't be bothered disputing the case. He was too exhausted, though he wasn't entirely sure by why.
"Will you make sure he gets inside his place before you go?" Hikaru asked.
The driver made a sound of assent, and drove off, leaving Hikaru still standing alone at the stop. Well, Hikaru would have to walk home, but he felt that the cold air would do him so good anyway.
To be continued.
-- you know what? I just realized I wrote in several tenses. =) Ah well, I'll fix it up. Someday.
--sakusaku