A/N: Hi! I'm really working on this fic, alright? Well, I should be
working on studying or my school project or my homework actually but
really, I'm so sick of this life that I sometimes wish I could just drop
dead. Working on this takes my mind off the death wish so I guess you
could say it's good for my mental health, ne? Besides, this FUN! Anyway,
enjoy and please r & r. Here's where I launch into nearly full-scale
humour. Oh, and be warned: Super Akira OOCness and cameos popping in
here and there.
Chapter 3: A Never-ending Fantasy
"You came!" My amnesiac rival runs towards me and jumps on me happily, arms flung around my neck as I stand at the front door of his house at 11 a.m.
I give him an annoyed look, ignoring his utterly un-Touya-like behaviour as he steps back with a slight blush to his cheeks. "What, you thought I wouldn't?"
"Well... You didn't seem too enthusiastic about it yesterday, so I thought..."
So he noticed. But my time with Sai was the best teacher on how to lie through one's teeth and do it convincingly. "Not everyone shows their enthusiasm by starting a festival, Tou-Akira." I still need to get used to this whole first name basis fad.
He smiles cheerfully and turns around to his parents who are standing in the hall. They are worried, I know, but are trying their hardest to keep it to themselves. "Itte kimasu!" he calls, before running out the door. His genki overdrive is really starting to scare me.
I bow slightly and offer them a reassuring smile before stepping back and pulling the sliding door shut. I... "Waa!" The cry escapes my lips as Akira grabs my hand and practically drags me after him. I decide to concentrate on trying not to fall before contemplating on how familiar this is. I catch my balance and promptly realize the reason for the déjà vu; the second time we met in front of the Children's Go Tournament building, Touya practically dragged me back to his father's Go salon. "Tou-Akira, I can walk on my own, you know," I inform him. "And besides, do you even have any idea where you are going?"
He let's go of my hand and slows down. "Sorry, I was just so impatient and you were taking forever just to close the door and... well... No, I don't know where we're going. So, tell me; where are we going today?" He really seems full of energy today.
I grin. "Where are we going? How could you have already forgotten?"
He blinks at me in mild confusion; God, that was so cute.
The grin widens to practically reach my ears. "You owe me lunch!" I continue accusingly. "You promised me lots of ramen, ice cream, and cotton candy, remember? Well, I'm not big on cotton candy but I hope you brought lots of money for the ramen and ice-cream."
He gives me a petulant pout. "I take it that you're really going to run me dry aren't you?"
"Yeah, so? It isn't as if you're family isn't already swimming in the prize money from your father's five titles."
"Oh? So that's why my house is so huge! I never knew I lived in such a big house with such a large garden! My room's really spacious too! Wow!" he marvels, glossy eyed. "But why is almost everything I wear like for someone twice my age? I mean this is like one of the five outfits that even look vaguely sixteen," he nearly laments, indicating the wine red and Prussian blue sweatshirt and khakis that he is wearing.
I really tried not to, I mean REALLY tried, but I failed to suppress the laughter anyway. "I think... it's 'cause... you like it," I manage between fits of hysterical laughter.
"Really? I'm starting to think I really need psychotherapy," he replies. "I don't think I'm normal."
I'm laughing uncontrollably again. "No," I concede between chuckles. "You're not. But it's not that serious. You don't..." Another laughing fit. "...need psychotherapy." I wipe the tears out of my eyes. "Your wardrobe isn't anything we can't fix anyway."
His eyes light up. "Oh, you mean..."
I smirk. "We're going shopping," I declare, putting dramatic emphasis on every word.
An uneventful fifteen-minute train ride later, we are gobbling ramen in a restaurant in Tokyo city centre. Well, rather, HE is gobbling. Akira seems to have quite lost his etiquette with his memory and happened to have managed to develop a voracious appetite in the process of forgetting. We're in our second bowl of ramen when Kurata-san steps into the restaurant. His eyes light up when he spots us and he proceeds to saunter over.
"Yo, speak of the Go Golden Pair. So, Honinbou-Shuusaku-handwriting-expert, where's the paper? I'm sure you do want the rest of my autograph," he begins cheerfully.
"I... uh..." I start. Damn, I still can't find that sheet of paper. In fact, I'm quite sure it's fed a colony of cockroaches by now and I don't really want it anyway.
"Who is he?" Tou-Akira asks curiously.
"He's... uh..."
"You don't know me? Kurata 9-dan. I've been to your house, remember? Man, Touya-kun, I need a word with your father," Kurata-san says, cutting me off.
"Uh... Kurata-san, he's..." I begin, trying to explain.
"Oh! Right, I read about it in the Weekly Go. Amnesia. Well, no matter." The plump pro takes out a notepad and a pen. "One pork chop ramen, please!" he calls out, scribbling on the paper.
"Hai!" comes the reply from the kitchen. Tell me that isn't what I think it is.
"Here," he says, tearing off the paper and handing it to Tou-Akira.
"What's this?" my rival asks innocently, finishing his food.
"My autograph, have it." Damn, it is what I think it is.
"Err... Tou-Akira?" I attempt as I swallow my last mouthful of ramen.
"Kurata, Imminent Jyudan," Akira reads. He looks up at Kurata-san. "Thanks, but I don't want it," he says, handing it back to the plump Go pro. Oh, no; that was precisely what I wanted to warn him about.
"Why not?"
"How about... I'm not interested...?" Okay, for the record, he's being even more blunt than I was.
"Everyone wants my autograph!" Kurata-san declares indignantly. I resist slamming my head on the table. God, is he delusional about his popularity.
"Well, I don't; so give it to someone who does. I'd much rather have Hikaru's at any rate," my rival returns tartly. No way; oh, shit. Akira!! Why the hell did you have to go and say that?! I resignedly press two fingers to my left temple.
"Oi, Shindou!" Kurata-san begins. I look up with a forced smile on my face; boy, did I force it. "There's a Go salon three doors down! Let's play! If you lose, he takes my autograph!" the deluded pro challenges as expected. I can't believe this is happening to me.
Before Akira can say anything worse, I quickly stand. "I'm sorry, Kurata- san, maybe next time. I have an amnesiac to entertain and do forgive said amnesiac; I'm sure he's simply forgotten the marvellous significance of your autograph. Have a nice day, Kurata-san. Good luck on becoming the next Jyudan. Akira, let's go!" I excuse myself sweetly, grabbing my rival's hand and pulling him out the door with me after an extremely brief pause to slam two thousand yen on the counter. I wonder when and where I learnt to kiss ass so well as I drag Akira down the road and round the corner into an ice cream parlour where I lean against the wall, heaving a sigh of relief.
"Hikaru... You didn't have to walk so fast, you know," my rival pants beside me. Well, I certainly didn't think that pace was at all fast.
"Sorry," I mumble. Somehow, the sight of him out of breath like that just... reminds me of the Meijin preliminaries last year. We make our way over to the counter.
"Irasshaimase! Konnichiwa. Welcome to X Ice Cream Parlour; this is Shirou Kamui at your service. How may I help you?" greets the... -flat chest- guy at the counter.
"Err... I'll... um... I'll have a scoop each of Honeydew Heaven and Paw- Pina Colada," I order.
"Right," he says, scribbling it down. "Toppings?"
"Whipped cream. That's it for me."
"Hokey-dokey. And you?" He turns to Akira.
"Erm... One scoop of Bubbly Berries and one of Peppermint Calypso, please."
"Toppings?" he asks, just barely hiding his disgust.
"Uh... Butterscotch and chocolate rice."
Eww... argh, that is sick! Berries and mint is a bad enough combination, but with butterscotch and chocolate rice?! I had no idea his taste was _so_ *bad*!!
"Right." I catch sight of the I-think-I'm-gonna-be-sick look on Shirou- san's face and understandingly sympathize. The thought of that concoction is enough to make anyone feel like throwing up. I let my amnesiac rival pay the 1400 Yen before leading him over to a corner booth by the window.
"Someone serve these two doubles to table seven, please!" Shirou-san calls a moment later.
A blonde guy pops his head out from a doorway and looks directly at us. "Both guys? No thanks, get someone else," he says with a tone of mild boredom.
"Thought so, that's why I didn't call you. By the way, Yuuto, aren't Satsuki and Kanoe enough for you anymore?" Shirou-san questions derisively.
"Are you kidding? I have a jealous _computer_ to contend with and the other lady's worse than me," Yuuto-san responds lightly, green eyes twinkling.
"I'll get it," a boy with spiky silvery white hair and purplish gray eyes offers, stepping out and lifting the tray with perfect balance.
"Thanks, Nataku," replies Shirou-san. "Where's Fuuma, by the way?"
"Thanks," I mutter as Nataku puts the ice creams down on our table.
"Daddy? I think he took Kakyou-san out for tea," answers Nataku.
"Without me? How could he?" A tinge of annoyance laces Shirou-san's voice.
"That's between the three of you; it's your ménage a' trois, ya," a guy in the red apron that is obviously their uniform chips in in heavily accented Osaka dialect. "Besides, it's your shift, not theirs," he adds.
"Spare me, Sorata; just spare me the drill," Shirou-san retorts acidly.
"Em... Hikaru?" Akira begins hesitantly.
"Yeah?" I shove a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Delicious.
"This is turning into a really weird day, ne?" He does the same.
"Aa," I agree.
"How much was the ramen? It was supposed to be my treat, remember?"
"How could I forget? Two thousand Yen."
"Oh, right. Your mission today is to send me into bankruptcy, I remember," he returns dryly, handing me the money.
"Don't worry, you're far from being there," I reply cheerfully as I stuff the cash in my pocket.
Just then, a well-built brunette teenager and -what I believe to be- a guy with long silver-white hair and aqua eyes in a kimono walks in. "Daddy!" Nataku exclaims, running over to the teenager's side joyfully. I think my eyes are about to bug out. That guy is nowhere near being old enough to be anyone's dad, least of all Nataku's.
"Kazuki!" The teenager frowns. "How many times have I told you NOT to call me 'daddy' in public?!"
"Sorry, I..."
"Fuuma, Kakyou! How could you guys go out for tea without me?" Shirou-san interjects irritably.
"Well, *you* were on shift and _we_ weren't," the Kakyou reasons slowly.
"Besides," Fuuma starts, walking over to Shirou-san. "We brought you these." He takes out a pack of Famous Amos cookies and waves them in front of Shirou-san's face.
"Cookies!" Shirou-san exclaims happily as he snatches the pack and leans in for a kiss that Fuuma cheerfully obliges. "Looks like your life is spared for the day," he contemplates after they break off.
Fuuma grins. "It didn't work out too well the last time you tried to kill me, remember?"
"Don't remind me," replies Shirou-san with a petulant pout before we are again distracted by the entrance of a tall man in a black Armani suit and sunglasses, smoking a cigarette. I glance out the window; it's cloudy today, what's with the sunglasses anyway? "Irasshai..." Shirou-san begins, turning around, before noticing who it is. He turns back to whatever he is doing and calls, "Subaru! Someone's here to see you!"
A guy -this one definitely a guy- walks out from the back room. He is wearing a white knee-length blazer and a black turtleneck with dark blue slacks and black high-cut shoes. "Why Seishirou-san, how nice of you to drop by. It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?" he begins pleasantly. I resist the impulse to slam my head on the table again. That has got to be the record-holder for the world's lamest conversation starter; and here I thought 'so, how was your game yesterday?' was bad.
The man removes his sunglasses as he turns to lean on the countertop opposite Subaru. "Why yes, Subaru-kun, it is. Perfect temperature and not too much sun," he agrees.
"Must be wonderful for the Tree," replies Subaru-kun, leaning closer to Seishirou-san over the counter. "Oh, wait a minute; there's something wrong here. Seishirou-san, you used the door." Okay, now I'm getting really bad ideas about Seishirou-san climbing down the chimney.
"Santa Seishirou, anyone?" my rival mutters opposite me. I stifle a chuckle.
"Really, Subaru-kun, you complain no matter how I enter. You don't seem too happy to see me," Seishirou-san returns with one of those smiles that are so remarkably pleasant that they're scary.
"No, no; seeing you's the best part of the day, Seishirou-san. Just that using the door really seems to mar your sense of style, don't you think? It isn't quite... dramatic enough," Subaru-kun says, gesturing carelessly before taking out a cigarette and lighting it on Seishirou-san's.
"I guess I'll take that as an invitation to explode into your kitchen next time then, shall I?"
"No, you don't!" Shirou-san interjects abruptly. "Go explode into and in Subaru's bedroom, why don't you?"
"Yeah, since you're both so obviously desperate to slip between each other's sheets anyway," Kakyou-san chips in snidely.
"*I* am _not_ desperate!" Subaru-kun protests indignantly as Seishirou-san clears his throat.
"What's wrong with their own sheets?" Nataku inquires innocently. Thank goodness I've already swallowed that spoonful of ice cream.
"Nothing," Yuuto-san answers with a chuckle, stepping out to stand at the doorway to the back room. The entire group is snickering inconsiderately while Subaru-kun gradually turns redder.
"Then why do they want each other's?" Nataku continues curiously. I really choke on my ice cream this time. Opposite me, Akira isn't any luckier.
Fuuma clears his throat and tries valiantly not to laugh hysterically. "Kazuki, 'to slip between one another's sheets' is a euphemism for 'having sex with one another'," he explains before bursting into laughter all over again.
"Oh, I see..." Nataku muses with an I-just-attained-enlightenment look on his face.
"Just since when did our conversation involve the general public?" a tomato- red Subaru-kun demands irritably as Seishirou-san lights himself another cigarette.
"Hm... How about... Since you decided to publicise it by having it here?" Kakyou-san suggests with a snicker.
"Besides, neither of you mentioned that it was meant to be private, ya?" Sorata-san adds, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"So we take it to be open for general participation," Shirou-san finishes with a look of smug satisfaction.
"Things have really changed since the Promised Day, ne, Subaru-kun?" Seishirou-san starts again.
"Yeah, but some things never change."
"Some things do." Seishirou-san leans extremely close to Subaru-kun.
"This sure as hell hasn't," comments Fuuma dryly, earning himself a death glare from Subaru-kun.
"I wonder what?" Subaru-kun muses before brushing his lips against Seishirou-san's.
"Everything and nothing, perhaps." Seishirou-san straightens. "I should get going; I've got a whiny Tree to feed among other things," he states. "Made my day seeing you, Subaru-kun," he throws over his shoulder on his way out.
"Certainly, Seishirou-san. Wonderful having you drop by."
"What's with those two anyway?" Okay, that was loud. So 'tactful' isn't a word I'd use to describe myself, but Akira's really taking the cake here.
"They're hopelessly in love with each other and trying to be jerks about it by lying to each other about their feelings as if it isn't already blatantly obvious," I reply matter-of-factly at half his volume.
Evidently, half his volume isn't quite quiet enough since about seven eyes are already on me. "Kamui, give those two smoothies on the house, will ya?" Fuuma tells Shirou-san.
"Sure thing. Well deserved indeed," Shirou-san agrees, turning to fix the smoothies.
"Yeah, I mean... That's like... the century's fastest and most accurate first impression anyone's ever had of those two," Kakyou-san muses.
"I _am_ here, you know..." Subaru-kun attempts.
I generally decide that I've had enough weirdness for the day, swallow my last spoonful of ice cream, and stand to leave. Akira joins me and we make our way to the door.
"Wait!" Shirou-san calls.
We turn to see him running towards us with two plastic cups in his hands.
"Here," he says, reaching us and shoving the drinks into our hands. "On the house," he continues with a grin.
"Aa. Domo," I reply, and push the door open.
"Arigatou gozaimashita!"
The day seems to just be getting weirder and weirder as if the whole concept of eating lunch and going out shopping with my rival isn't already weird enough. The sun is shining brightly in the sky on this early winter afternoon. It is still only pleasantly cool, not yet cold enough for mufflers or thick overcoats. I have a jacket in my bag, just in case though. The cool breeze makes it the perfect day for going out. Akira turns to me questioningly and I extend my hand. He smiles happily and places his hand in mine and I almost immediately grin wickedly. I catch sight of that look of mock horror on his face an instant before I start running at top speed, dragging him after me and into a shopping mall. I stop abruptly in front of the first clothes shop and he bangs right into me, almost falling flat on his face; I pull him to his feet and he falls smack into my arms as he tries to steady himself. It occurs to me that we look like we're about to do the tango what with our position and all, and on ordinary circumstances I might presently be laughing my ass off but for some reason, I'm too busy hyperventilating.
"Sorry, thanks." He looks up at me, hands grasping my arms.
I quickly avert my gaze. "Yeah, fine. C'mon." I pull him with me into the shop and over to the racks. I pull out a pair of black jeans with fade-outs here and there. "How's these?" I ask him, holding it up for him to see.
He eyes it expressionlessly. "You like it?" he asks at last.
"Aki, it's your clothes, not mine," I remind him.
"Yeah, okay. It's pretty cool. You want me to try it on?"
"Dunno; if you feel like it," I reply with a careless shrug.
He steps closer. "Do you like it? As in on me, that is." He's looking up intensely at me, the kind of gaze Touya usually had across the Goban, the look I can never argue with.
I swallow thickly. "Uhh... I don't know yet... um... Why don't you try it on?"
He smiles. "Sure, let's get more stuff first."
I merely nod in agreement.
"Pick some stuff for yourself too. I'll buy it for you."
"What? No! I mean..." I protest. "I can't! And I don't need new clothes just yet! And..."
"I won't if you don't want me to. It's fine, whatever you like," he cuts in. Akira's being ridiculously obliging now and I don't know why. Like he's... Like he's... Maybe... he... "You called me 'Aki'," he says suddenly, snapping my train of thought.
"Huh? What?" I blink at him in mild confusion. I've been zoning out for the last minute or so and my brain isn't quite processing what he just said.
"Just now, you called me 'Aki'," he repeats quietly as we pick out a few more items randomly and he sips at his smoothie.
"Oh," is all I can manage. I pick up a pair jeans and a pair of slacks, one dark brown and the other Prussian blue. "You don't want me to?" I ask, sipping mine. Mocha, delicious.
"No, I mean, yes. I like it when you call me that, so..." he answers in a flurry.
"So I will. Who else calls you 'Aki'?"
Silence. We pick out a few more items each.
I turn to him. "Aki?"
He looks at me. "Mm..." he replies, shaking his head.
I raise an eyebrow. "You don't want to tell me?"
"No! I mean, yes, but..."
"But?" I coax.
"No one. You're the first... and probably the last." He looks at the floor. "I never wanted anyone to call me that... just sounds nice when you do. There's like this ring to it, you know?" He answered my question before it was even asked.
"Oh," I manage weakly. The silence that follows is dreadfully uncomfortable. I decide to break it the best way I know. "Let's try these on," I tell him, ushering him into a changing room and entering the one next to it. I try on a short-sleeved grass green V-neck with the dark brown jeans and step out after a glance in the mirror. He steps out a moment later and the breath catches in my throat. I grip the changing room door for support at the sight of the clothes he is wearing. I take in the black plastic-like vest with silver trimming and the red denim _hipster_ shorts. My throat is parched as I fight back the heat that rushes to overwhelm me as I stare, gaping at him.
He does a full turn and blushes faintly. "Uh... how's this?"
I blink at him and drink a gulp of the smoothie to moisten my throat. "It's uh... um... it's... I don't think you should," I manage to stammer out at last.
"Why not? You don't like it?"
"No! I mean, yes, but..." But it makes me really uncomfortable.
"But?"
"But if I let you walk out in that, the first thing you'd do when you regained your memory is kill me," I answer, half the truth.
He closes the distance between us to place his hands on my shoulders. "Well, if we both like it, it shouldn't be a problem. After all, it's not like you encouraged me to buy it. You told me not to; I'm being obstinate; I've got only myself to blame. Let's try on the others." He goes back into the changing room.
I do the same in a partial daze. Touya Akira dressed like Bad Luck's Shindou Shuuichi... feels like my worst nightmare just came true. My rival actually declared himself obstinate; I'll remember to use that against him the next time we argue. I shake my head to clear it. We try on the rest and pay for what we want at the counter. I tried again unsuccessfully to convince him against buying it and decide to drop it. I chose not to mention the part about him dressing like a rock star since in my rival's current state of mind, it'd probably make him even more interested. We step out of the shop only to notice a huge crowd not too far off.
"I wonder what they're looking at," my rival muses aloud.
I shrug. "Why don't we go find out?" I suggest.
"Hm."
We walk over to the large crowd and tiptoe to peer over people's shoulders. There's a brunette hugging a pink bunny giving autographs. He has twinkling blue eyes and a clear resonant voice. Sakuma Ryuuichi, top J- rock group Nittle Grasper's super hot vocalist. He's thirty plus but he still looks youthful and dashing. The singer is decked in leather and looking really cool as he chats with his fans, a cheerful grin on his face. The girls in front of us are busy squealing, swooning, and ogling over him and I absently wonder how he copes with this everyday. Sure, popularity's cool but a hundred girls drooling in procession everywhere you go? Positively unbearable. I watch as his three bodyguards fend off more than a few slut attacks and generally keep the gorgeous brunette from being accosted too much.
"Who's he?" Akira asks, startling me out of my lengthy observation.
"Rock idol. Sakuma Ryuuichi, Nittle Grasper's vocalist."
"Nittle Grasper?"
"The current top J-rock group, baka."
"Baka? You... How was I supposed to know all this?" Some things never change.
"Because you live _here_, not under some frozen rock on Pluto, Aki. Oh wait, I remember; you're obstinate," I retort.
"So? It's not like you know everyone!"
"They're not everyone! Nittle Grasper's the hottest, coolest, best, most popular rock group in Japan! They don't have to know everyone! Everyone knows them!" And we argue again.
"YEAH!!!" the crowd of fans cheer upon hearing my argument. I can hardly believe we've managed to start quarrelling about something besides Go and a public debate about J-rock was definitely the last thing I expected.
"That's just in your opinion! There's no way to prove that!!" my rival shouts.
"Yes, there is! It's public opinion!!" I return at twice his volume before turning to the crowd. "Nittle Grasper's the greatest, right?!" I shout in question.
"YEAH!!!" comes the reply, along with whistling and general sounds of approval. The crowd begins to chant 'N.G.' repeatedly.
"And everyone knows superstar Sakuma Ryuuichi, Japan's -if not the world's- best vocalist with the windpipes and body to die for, right?!" I ask again.
"YEAH!!! YEAH!!! NITTLE GRASPER ARE THE KINGS OF J-ROCK!!! SAKUMA RYUUICHI IS THE BEST!!!!!" shouts the crowd in response.
"NO ONE BEATS MY RYUUICHI-SAMA!!" screams a girl in the crowd.
"WHAT GIVES YOU THE AUDACITY TO THINK HE'S YOURS?" retorts another.
"HE'S MINE!!!"
"NO!! MINE!!!"
"ATASHI NO MONO DA!!!"
"SAKUMA RYUUICHI IS MINE!!!!!" And the crowd begins a huge brawl right in the middle of the mall.
"There you are, Aki. That's your proof," I tell him smugly.
"Fine, fine. Point taken. Give it a rest, will ya?" he grumbles at the sight of the smirk.
"Certainly."
"Hi!" chirps a voice cheerfully and we turn to see Sakuma Ryuuichi right in front of us, hugging his bunny tightly.
"Hi!" we greet back in unison.
I look at the brawl going on around me and rather sheepishly grin. "Sorry it turned out like this all because we argued," I tell the vocalist apologetically.
"Heiki, heiki na no da. Thanks for the free propaganda no da." He grins with some super genki surge and turns to Akira. "Ooh... kawaii!" he enthuses. My rival and I both blink in mild confusion. Suddenly, Ryuuichi pecks Akira on the cheek and I giggle to myself as my rival succeeds at beating a raspberry in redness. "You two look so... cute together no da!"
I cough slightly and Akira is stunned speechless.
"Hey, you two coming for my concert in Ruido?" he asks, looking from one of us to the other.
I shake my head. "Tickets are sold out, I heard. I'd like to go though. It's a pity I've never seen one on Nittle Grasper's most memorable stage."
He grins. "Here, take these. Remember to drop by after the concert too! You guys are such a cute pair no da!" he continues enthusiastically, giving us a ticket and a backstage pass each.
"Thanks!" we chirp happily. I finally get to see a Nittle Grasper concert in Ruido, where they first started out. Akira's probably going to be seeing his first concert ever.
"Oh, and these too." He passes us two CDs. "Autographed Special Edition with free calendar no da. My collaboration with Shindou Shuuichi na no da!" he announces in genki overdrive. "I'll just tell Tou-chan it's for publicity. He'll let me off for nicking his copy no da." He chuckles heartily.
"Oh, wow! Thanks a tonne! I loved Predilection and Gateway Odyssey!" I enthuse with a grin.
"I'm going to be honest and say I've never heard either," Akira states at my side.
Ryuuichi just looks at us as if in deep contemplation. "Oh geez, you guys are just so adorable together no da. I'll give you Kumagorou too!" He shoves the bunny into Akira's arms. "See? Now you two look perfect na no da!"
"I thought Kumagorou's your treasure," I begin to protest.
"Yup! He's my favourite no da!"
"So you shouldn't..."
"Kumagorou's always with me, everywhere! He won't leave and he'll always come back no da!!" he replies cheerfully.
"But you just said he's your treasure AND your favourite." Now it's Akira's turn to protest.
"Yup! He is!" He winks as he starts running off. "Bye-bye! Gotta go! See you there!"
We watch the brunette tear towards the door before exchanging confused glances. I catch the look on Akira's face, recall how red he turned when Ryuuichi kissed his cheek, and start giggling all over again.
He gives me a petulant pout. "You're laughing at me."
"No, I..." I begin between peals of laughter.
"Yes, you are."
"Fine, so I am. It's amusing how ineffably charming Touya Akira gets with a simple peck on the cheek," I tease before bursting into laughter all over again.
"Oh, you... Your life is forfeit!!" he cries in outrage before chasing me down the mall.
A/N: Truth be told, I think the last part sucks but I'll leave it in
your hands. Please R & R and I hope you liked it.
Glossary:
Baka = idiot, stupid, dummy,... Heiki = alright; so 'heiki, heiki' would translate as 'it's alright' Atashi no mono da = girls' way of saying 'my thing'; so it's an equivalent of 'mine' No da/na no da = something like 'you see'. Basically, it doesn't affect the meaning of the sentence; I'm just complying with Ryuuichi's speech patterns
working on studying or my school project or my homework actually but
really, I'm so sick of this life that I sometimes wish I could just drop
dead. Working on this takes my mind off the death wish so I guess you
could say it's good for my mental health, ne? Besides, this FUN! Anyway,
enjoy and please r & r. Here's where I launch into nearly full-scale
humour. Oh, and be warned: Super Akira OOCness and cameos popping in
here and there.
Chapter 3: A Never-ending Fantasy
"You came!" My amnesiac rival runs towards me and jumps on me happily, arms flung around my neck as I stand at the front door of his house at 11 a.m.
I give him an annoyed look, ignoring his utterly un-Touya-like behaviour as he steps back with a slight blush to his cheeks. "What, you thought I wouldn't?"
"Well... You didn't seem too enthusiastic about it yesterday, so I thought..."
So he noticed. But my time with Sai was the best teacher on how to lie through one's teeth and do it convincingly. "Not everyone shows their enthusiasm by starting a festival, Tou-Akira." I still need to get used to this whole first name basis fad.
He smiles cheerfully and turns around to his parents who are standing in the hall. They are worried, I know, but are trying their hardest to keep it to themselves. "Itte kimasu!" he calls, before running out the door. His genki overdrive is really starting to scare me.
I bow slightly and offer them a reassuring smile before stepping back and pulling the sliding door shut. I... "Waa!" The cry escapes my lips as Akira grabs my hand and practically drags me after him. I decide to concentrate on trying not to fall before contemplating on how familiar this is. I catch my balance and promptly realize the reason for the déjà vu; the second time we met in front of the Children's Go Tournament building, Touya practically dragged me back to his father's Go salon. "Tou-Akira, I can walk on my own, you know," I inform him. "And besides, do you even have any idea where you are going?"
He let's go of my hand and slows down. "Sorry, I was just so impatient and you were taking forever just to close the door and... well... No, I don't know where we're going. So, tell me; where are we going today?" He really seems full of energy today.
I grin. "Where are we going? How could you have already forgotten?"
He blinks at me in mild confusion; God, that was so cute.
The grin widens to practically reach my ears. "You owe me lunch!" I continue accusingly. "You promised me lots of ramen, ice cream, and cotton candy, remember? Well, I'm not big on cotton candy but I hope you brought lots of money for the ramen and ice-cream."
He gives me a petulant pout. "I take it that you're really going to run me dry aren't you?"
"Yeah, so? It isn't as if you're family isn't already swimming in the prize money from your father's five titles."
"Oh? So that's why my house is so huge! I never knew I lived in such a big house with such a large garden! My room's really spacious too! Wow!" he marvels, glossy eyed. "But why is almost everything I wear like for someone twice my age? I mean this is like one of the five outfits that even look vaguely sixteen," he nearly laments, indicating the wine red and Prussian blue sweatshirt and khakis that he is wearing.
I really tried not to, I mean REALLY tried, but I failed to suppress the laughter anyway. "I think... it's 'cause... you like it," I manage between fits of hysterical laughter.
"Really? I'm starting to think I really need psychotherapy," he replies. "I don't think I'm normal."
I'm laughing uncontrollably again. "No," I concede between chuckles. "You're not. But it's not that serious. You don't..." Another laughing fit. "...need psychotherapy." I wipe the tears out of my eyes. "Your wardrobe isn't anything we can't fix anyway."
His eyes light up. "Oh, you mean..."
I smirk. "We're going shopping," I declare, putting dramatic emphasis on every word.
An uneventful fifteen-minute train ride later, we are gobbling ramen in a restaurant in Tokyo city centre. Well, rather, HE is gobbling. Akira seems to have quite lost his etiquette with his memory and happened to have managed to develop a voracious appetite in the process of forgetting. We're in our second bowl of ramen when Kurata-san steps into the restaurant. His eyes light up when he spots us and he proceeds to saunter over.
"Yo, speak of the Go Golden Pair. So, Honinbou-Shuusaku-handwriting-expert, where's the paper? I'm sure you do want the rest of my autograph," he begins cheerfully.
"I... uh..." I start. Damn, I still can't find that sheet of paper. In fact, I'm quite sure it's fed a colony of cockroaches by now and I don't really want it anyway.
"Who is he?" Tou-Akira asks curiously.
"He's... uh..."
"You don't know me? Kurata 9-dan. I've been to your house, remember? Man, Touya-kun, I need a word with your father," Kurata-san says, cutting me off.
"Uh... Kurata-san, he's..." I begin, trying to explain.
"Oh! Right, I read about it in the Weekly Go. Amnesia. Well, no matter." The plump pro takes out a notepad and a pen. "One pork chop ramen, please!" he calls out, scribbling on the paper.
"Hai!" comes the reply from the kitchen. Tell me that isn't what I think it is.
"Here," he says, tearing off the paper and handing it to Tou-Akira.
"What's this?" my rival asks innocently, finishing his food.
"My autograph, have it." Damn, it is what I think it is.
"Err... Tou-Akira?" I attempt as I swallow my last mouthful of ramen.
"Kurata, Imminent Jyudan," Akira reads. He looks up at Kurata-san. "Thanks, but I don't want it," he says, handing it back to the plump Go pro. Oh, no; that was precisely what I wanted to warn him about.
"Why not?"
"How about... I'm not interested...?" Okay, for the record, he's being even more blunt than I was.
"Everyone wants my autograph!" Kurata-san declares indignantly. I resist slamming my head on the table. God, is he delusional about his popularity.
"Well, I don't; so give it to someone who does. I'd much rather have Hikaru's at any rate," my rival returns tartly. No way; oh, shit. Akira!! Why the hell did you have to go and say that?! I resignedly press two fingers to my left temple.
"Oi, Shindou!" Kurata-san begins. I look up with a forced smile on my face; boy, did I force it. "There's a Go salon three doors down! Let's play! If you lose, he takes my autograph!" the deluded pro challenges as expected. I can't believe this is happening to me.
Before Akira can say anything worse, I quickly stand. "I'm sorry, Kurata- san, maybe next time. I have an amnesiac to entertain and do forgive said amnesiac; I'm sure he's simply forgotten the marvellous significance of your autograph. Have a nice day, Kurata-san. Good luck on becoming the next Jyudan. Akira, let's go!" I excuse myself sweetly, grabbing my rival's hand and pulling him out the door with me after an extremely brief pause to slam two thousand yen on the counter. I wonder when and where I learnt to kiss ass so well as I drag Akira down the road and round the corner into an ice cream parlour where I lean against the wall, heaving a sigh of relief.
"Hikaru... You didn't have to walk so fast, you know," my rival pants beside me. Well, I certainly didn't think that pace was at all fast.
"Sorry," I mumble. Somehow, the sight of him out of breath like that just... reminds me of the Meijin preliminaries last year. We make our way over to the counter.
"Irasshaimase! Konnichiwa. Welcome to X Ice Cream Parlour; this is Shirou Kamui at your service. How may I help you?" greets the... -flat chest- guy at the counter.
"Err... I'll... um... I'll have a scoop each of Honeydew Heaven and Paw- Pina Colada," I order.
"Right," he says, scribbling it down. "Toppings?"
"Whipped cream. That's it for me."
"Hokey-dokey. And you?" He turns to Akira.
"Erm... One scoop of Bubbly Berries and one of Peppermint Calypso, please."
"Toppings?" he asks, just barely hiding his disgust.
"Uh... Butterscotch and chocolate rice."
Eww... argh, that is sick! Berries and mint is a bad enough combination, but with butterscotch and chocolate rice?! I had no idea his taste was _so_ *bad*!!
"Right." I catch sight of the I-think-I'm-gonna-be-sick look on Shirou- san's face and understandingly sympathize. The thought of that concoction is enough to make anyone feel like throwing up. I let my amnesiac rival pay the 1400 Yen before leading him over to a corner booth by the window.
"Someone serve these two doubles to table seven, please!" Shirou-san calls a moment later.
A blonde guy pops his head out from a doorway and looks directly at us. "Both guys? No thanks, get someone else," he says with a tone of mild boredom.
"Thought so, that's why I didn't call you. By the way, Yuuto, aren't Satsuki and Kanoe enough for you anymore?" Shirou-san questions derisively.
"Are you kidding? I have a jealous _computer_ to contend with and the other lady's worse than me," Yuuto-san responds lightly, green eyes twinkling.
"I'll get it," a boy with spiky silvery white hair and purplish gray eyes offers, stepping out and lifting the tray with perfect balance.
"Thanks, Nataku," replies Shirou-san. "Where's Fuuma, by the way?"
"Thanks," I mutter as Nataku puts the ice creams down on our table.
"Daddy? I think he took Kakyou-san out for tea," answers Nataku.
"Without me? How could he?" A tinge of annoyance laces Shirou-san's voice.
"That's between the three of you; it's your ménage a' trois, ya," a guy in the red apron that is obviously their uniform chips in in heavily accented Osaka dialect. "Besides, it's your shift, not theirs," he adds.
"Spare me, Sorata; just spare me the drill," Shirou-san retorts acidly.
"Em... Hikaru?" Akira begins hesitantly.
"Yeah?" I shove a spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. Delicious.
"This is turning into a really weird day, ne?" He does the same.
"Aa," I agree.
"How much was the ramen? It was supposed to be my treat, remember?"
"How could I forget? Two thousand Yen."
"Oh, right. Your mission today is to send me into bankruptcy, I remember," he returns dryly, handing me the money.
"Don't worry, you're far from being there," I reply cheerfully as I stuff the cash in my pocket.
Just then, a well-built brunette teenager and -what I believe to be- a guy with long silver-white hair and aqua eyes in a kimono walks in. "Daddy!" Nataku exclaims, running over to the teenager's side joyfully. I think my eyes are about to bug out. That guy is nowhere near being old enough to be anyone's dad, least of all Nataku's.
"Kazuki!" The teenager frowns. "How many times have I told you NOT to call me 'daddy' in public?!"
"Sorry, I..."
"Fuuma, Kakyou! How could you guys go out for tea without me?" Shirou-san interjects irritably.
"Well, *you* were on shift and _we_ weren't," the Kakyou reasons slowly.
"Besides," Fuuma starts, walking over to Shirou-san. "We brought you these." He takes out a pack of Famous Amos cookies and waves them in front of Shirou-san's face.
"Cookies!" Shirou-san exclaims happily as he snatches the pack and leans in for a kiss that Fuuma cheerfully obliges. "Looks like your life is spared for the day," he contemplates after they break off.
Fuuma grins. "It didn't work out too well the last time you tried to kill me, remember?"
"Don't remind me," replies Shirou-san with a petulant pout before we are again distracted by the entrance of a tall man in a black Armani suit and sunglasses, smoking a cigarette. I glance out the window; it's cloudy today, what's with the sunglasses anyway? "Irasshai..." Shirou-san begins, turning around, before noticing who it is. He turns back to whatever he is doing and calls, "Subaru! Someone's here to see you!"
A guy -this one definitely a guy- walks out from the back room. He is wearing a white knee-length blazer and a black turtleneck with dark blue slacks and black high-cut shoes. "Why Seishirou-san, how nice of you to drop by. It's a beautiful day today, isn't it?" he begins pleasantly. I resist the impulse to slam my head on the table again. That has got to be the record-holder for the world's lamest conversation starter; and here I thought 'so, how was your game yesterday?' was bad.
The man removes his sunglasses as he turns to lean on the countertop opposite Subaru. "Why yes, Subaru-kun, it is. Perfect temperature and not too much sun," he agrees.
"Must be wonderful for the Tree," replies Subaru-kun, leaning closer to Seishirou-san over the counter. "Oh, wait a minute; there's something wrong here. Seishirou-san, you used the door." Okay, now I'm getting really bad ideas about Seishirou-san climbing down the chimney.
"Santa Seishirou, anyone?" my rival mutters opposite me. I stifle a chuckle.
"Really, Subaru-kun, you complain no matter how I enter. You don't seem too happy to see me," Seishirou-san returns with one of those smiles that are so remarkably pleasant that they're scary.
"No, no; seeing you's the best part of the day, Seishirou-san. Just that using the door really seems to mar your sense of style, don't you think? It isn't quite... dramatic enough," Subaru-kun says, gesturing carelessly before taking out a cigarette and lighting it on Seishirou-san's.
"I guess I'll take that as an invitation to explode into your kitchen next time then, shall I?"
"No, you don't!" Shirou-san interjects abruptly. "Go explode into and in Subaru's bedroom, why don't you?"
"Yeah, since you're both so obviously desperate to slip between each other's sheets anyway," Kakyou-san chips in snidely.
"*I* am _not_ desperate!" Subaru-kun protests indignantly as Seishirou-san clears his throat.
"What's wrong with their own sheets?" Nataku inquires innocently. Thank goodness I've already swallowed that spoonful of ice cream.
"Nothing," Yuuto-san answers with a chuckle, stepping out to stand at the doorway to the back room. The entire group is snickering inconsiderately while Subaru-kun gradually turns redder.
"Then why do they want each other's?" Nataku continues curiously. I really choke on my ice cream this time. Opposite me, Akira isn't any luckier.
Fuuma clears his throat and tries valiantly not to laugh hysterically. "Kazuki, 'to slip between one another's sheets' is a euphemism for 'having sex with one another'," he explains before bursting into laughter all over again.
"Oh, I see..." Nataku muses with an I-just-attained-enlightenment look on his face.
"Just since when did our conversation involve the general public?" a tomato- red Subaru-kun demands irritably as Seishirou-san lights himself another cigarette.
"Hm... How about... Since you decided to publicise it by having it here?" Kakyou-san suggests with a snicker.
"Besides, neither of you mentioned that it was meant to be private, ya?" Sorata-san adds, not bothering to hide his amusement.
"So we take it to be open for general participation," Shirou-san finishes with a look of smug satisfaction.
"Things have really changed since the Promised Day, ne, Subaru-kun?" Seishirou-san starts again.
"Yeah, but some things never change."
"Some things do." Seishirou-san leans extremely close to Subaru-kun.
"This sure as hell hasn't," comments Fuuma dryly, earning himself a death glare from Subaru-kun.
"I wonder what?" Subaru-kun muses before brushing his lips against Seishirou-san's.
"Everything and nothing, perhaps." Seishirou-san straightens. "I should get going; I've got a whiny Tree to feed among other things," he states. "Made my day seeing you, Subaru-kun," he throws over his shoulder on his way out.
"Certainly, Seishirou-san. Wonderful having you drop by."
"What's with those two anyway?" Okay, that was loud. So 'tactful' isn't a word I'd use to describe myself, but Akira's really taking the cake here.
"They're hopelessly in love with each other and trying to be jerks about it by lying to each other about their feelings as if it isn't already blatantly obvious," I reply matter-of-factly at half his volume.
Evidently, half his volume isn't quite quiet enough since about seven eyes are already on me. "Kamui, give those two smoothies on the house, will ya?" Fuuma tells Shirou-san.
"Sure thing. Well deserved indeed," Shirou-san agrees, turning to fix the smoothies.
"Yeah, I mean... That's like... the century's fastest and most accurate first impression anyone's ever had of those two," Kakyou-san muses.
"I _am_ here, you know..." Subaru-kun attempts.
I generally decide that I've had enough weirdness for the day, swallow my last spoonful of ice cream, and stand to leave. Akira joins me and we make our way to the door.
"Wait!" Shirou-san calls.
We turn to see him running towards us with two plastic cups in his hands.
"Here," he says, reaching us and shoving the drinks into our hands. "On the house," he continues with a grin.
"Aa. Domo," I reply, and push the door open.
"Arigatou gozaimashita!"
The day seems to just be getting weirder and weirder as if the whole concept of eating lunch and going out shopping with my rival isn't already weird enough. The sun is shining brightly in the sky on this early winter afternoon. It is still only pleasantly cool, not yet cold enough for mufflers or thick overcoats. I have a jacket in my bag, just in case though. The cool breeze makes it the perfect day for going out. Akira turns to me questioningly and I extend my hand. He smiles happily and places his hand in mine and I almost immediately grin wickedly. I catch sight of that look of mock horror on his face an instant before I start running at top speed, dragging him after me and into a shopping mall. I stop abruptly in front of the first clothes shop and he bangs right into me, almost falling flat on his face; I pull him to his feet and he falls smack into my arms as he tries to steady himself. It occurs to me that we look like we're about to do the tango what with our position and all, and on ordinary circumstances I might presently be laughing my ass off but for some reason, I'm too busy hyperventilating.
"Sorry, thanks." He looks up at me, hands grasping my arms.
I quickly avert my gaze. "Yeah, fine. C'mon." I pull him with me into the shop and over to the racks. I pull out a pair of black jeans with fade-outs here and there. "How's these?" I ask him, holding it up for him to see.
He eyes it expressionlessly. "You like it?" he asks at last.
"Aki, it's your clothes, not mine," I remind him.
"Yeah, okay. It's pretty cool. You want me to try it on?"
"Dunno; if you feel like it," I reply with a careless shrug.
He steps closer. "Do you like it? As in on me, that is." He's looking up intensely at me, the kind of gaze Touya usually had across the Goban, the look I can never argue with.
I swallow thickly. "Uhh... I don't know yet... um... Why don't you try it on?"
He smiles. "Sure, let's get more stuff first."
I merely nod in agreement.
"Pick some stuff for yourself too. I'll buy it for you."
"What? No! I mean..." I protest. "I can't! And I don't need new clothes just yet! And..."
"I won't if you don't want me to. It's fine, whatever you like," he cuts in. Akira's being ridiculously obliging now and I don't know why. Like he's... Like he's... Maybe... he... "You called me 'Aki'," he says suddenly, snapping my train of thought.
"Huh? What?" I blink at him in mild confusion. I've been zoning out for the last minute or so and my brain isn't quite processing what he just said.
"Just now, you called me 'Aki'," he repeats quietly as we pick out a few more items randomly and he sips at his smoothie.
"Oh," is all I can manage. I pick up a pair jeans and a pair of slacks, one dark brown and the other Prussian blue. "You don't want me to?" I ask, sipping mine. Mocha, delicious.
"No, I mean, yes. I like it when you call me that, so..." he answers in a flurry.
"So I will. Who else calls you 'Aki'?"
Silence. We pick out a few more items each.
I turn to him. "Aki?"
He looks at me. "Mm..." he replies, shaking his head.
I raise an eyebrow. "You don't want to tell me?"
"No! I mean, yes, but..."
"But?" I coax.
"No one. You're the first... and probably the last." He looks at the floor. "I never wanted anyone to call me that... just sounds nice when you do. There's like this ring to it, you know?" He answered my question before it was even asked.
"Oh," I manage weakly. The silence that follows is dreadfully uncomfortable. I decide to break it the best way I know. "Let's try these on," I tell him, ushering him into a changing room and entering the one next to it. I try on a short-sleeved grass green V-neck with the dark brown jeans and step out after a glance in the mirror. He steps out a moment later and the breath catches in my throat. I grip the changing room door for support at the sight of the clothes he is wearing. I take in the black plastic-like vest with silver trimming and the red denim _hipster_ shorts. My throat is parched as I fight back the heat that rushes to overwhelm me as I stare, gaping at him.
He does a full turn and blushes faintly. "Uh... how's this?"
I blink at him and drink a gulp of the smoothie to moisten my throat. "It's uh... um... it's... I don't think you should," I manage to stammer out at last.
"Why not? You don't like it?"
"No! I mean, yes, but..." But it makes me really uncomfortable.
"But?"
"But if I let you walk out in that, the first thing you'd do when you regained your memory is kill me," I answer, half the truth.
He closes the distance between us to place his hands on my shoulders. "Well, if we both like it, it shouldn't be a problem. After all, it's not like you encouraged me to buy it. You told me not to; I'm being obstinate; I've got only myself to blame. Let's try on the others." He goes back into the changing room.
I do the same in a partial daze. Touya Akira dressed like Bad Luck's Shindou Shuuichi... feels like my worst nightmare just came true. My rival actually declared himself obstinate; I'll remember to use that against him the next time we argue. I shake my head to clear it. We try on the rest and pay for what we want at the counter. I tried again unsuccessfully to convince him against buying it and decide to drop it. I chose not to mention the part about him dressing like a rock star since in my rival's current state of mind, it'd probably make him even more interested. We step out of the shop only to notice a huge crowd not too far off.
"I wonder what they're looking at," my rival muses aloud.
I shrug. "Why don't we go find out?" I suggest.
"Hm."
We walk over to the large crowd and tiptoe to peer over people's shoulders. There's a brunette hugging a pink bunny giving autographs. He has twinkling blue eyes and a clear resonant voice. Sakuma Ryuuichi, top J- rock group Nittle Grasper's super hot vocalist. He's thirty plus but he still looks youthful and dashing. The singer is decked in leather and looking really cool as he chats with his fans, a cheerful grin on his face. The girls in front of us are busy squealing, swooning, and ogling over him and I absently wonder how he copes with this everyday. Sure, popularity's cool but a hundred girls drooling in procession everywhere you go? Positively unbearable. I watch as his three bodyguards fend off more than a few slut attacks and generally keep the gorgeous brunette from being accosted too much.
"Who's he?" Akira asks, startling me out of my lengthy observation.
"Rock idol. Sakuma Ryuuichi, Nittle Grasper's vocalist."
"Nittle Grasper?"
"The current top J-rock group, baka."
"Baka? You... How was I supposed to know all this?" Some things never change.
"Because you live _here_, not under some frozen rock on Pluto, Aki. Oh wait, I remember; you're obstinate," I retort.
"So? It's not like you know everyone!"
"They're not everyone! Nittle Grasper's the hottest, coolest, best, most popular rock group in Japan! They don't have to know everyone! Everyone knows them!" And we argue again.
"YEAH!!!" the crowd of fans cheer upon hearing my argument. I can hardly believe we've managed to start quarrelling about something besides Go and a public debate about J-rock was definitely the last thing I expected.
"That's just in your opinion! There's no way to prove that!!" my rival shouts.
"Yes, there is! It's public opinion!!" I return at twice his volume before turning to the crowd. "Nittle Grasper's the greatest, right?!" I shout in question.
"YEAH!!!" comes the reply, along with whistling and general sounds of approval. The crowd begins to chant 'N.G.' repeatedly.
"And everyone knows superstar Sakuma Ryuuichi, Japan's -if not the world's- best vocalist with the windpipes and body to die for, right?!" I ask again.
"YEAH!!! YEAH!!! NITTLE GRASPER ARE THE KINGS OF J-ROCK!!! SAKUMA RYUUICHI IS THE BEST!!!!!" shouts the crowd in response.
"NO ONE BEATS MY RYUUICHI-SAMA!!" screams a girl in the crowd.
"WHAT GIVES YOU THE AUDACITY TO THINK HE'S YOURS?" retorts another.
"HE'S MINE!!!"
"NO!! MINE!!!"
"ATASHI NO MONO DA!!!"
"SAKUMA RYUUICHI IS MINE!!!!!" And the crowd begins a huge brawl right in the middle of the mall.
"There you are, Aki. That's your proof," I tell him smugly.
"Fine, fine. Point taken. Give it a rest, will ya?" he grumbles at the sight of the smirk.
"Certainly."
"Hi!" chirps a voice cheerfully and we turn to see Sakuma Ryuuichi right in front of us, hugging his bunny tightly.
"Hi!" we greet back in unison.
I look at the brawl going on around me and rather sheepishly grin. "Sorry it turned out like this all because we argued," I tell the vocalist apologetically.
"Heiki, heiki na no da. Thanks for the free propaganda no da." He grins with some super genki surge and turns to Akira. "Ooh... kawaii!" he enthuses. My rival and I both blink in mild confusion. Suddenly, Ryuuichi pecks Akira on the cheek and I giggle to myself as my rival succeeds at beating a raspberry in redness. "You two look so... cute together no da!"
I cough slightly and Akira is stunned speechless.
"Hey, you two coming for my concert in Ruido?" he asks, looking from one of us to the other.
I shake my head. "Tickets are sold out, I heard. I'd like to go though. It's a pity I've never seen one on Nittle Grasper's most memorable stage."
He grins. "Here, take these. Remember to drop by after the concert too! You guys are such a cute pair no da!" he continues enthusiastically, giving us a ticket and a backstage pass each.
"Thanks!" we chirp happily. I finally get to see a Nittle Grasper concert in Ruido, where they first started out. Akira's probably going to be seeing his first concert ever.
"Oh, and these too." He passes us two CDs. "Autographed Special Edition with free calendar no da. My collaboration with Shindou Shuuichi na no da!" he announces in genki overdrive. "I'll just tell Tou-chan it's for publicity. He'll let me off for nicking his copy no da." He chuckles heartily.
"Oh, wow! Thanks a tonne! I loved Predilection and Gateway Odyssey!" I enthuse with a grin.
"I'm going to be honest and say I've never heard either," Akira states at my side.
Ryuuichi just looks at us as if in deep contemplation. "Oh geez, you guys are just so adorable together no da. I'll give you Kumagorou too!" He shoves the bunny into Akira's arms. "See? Now you two look perfect na no da!"
"I thought Kumagorou's your treasure," I begin to protest.
"Yup! He's my favourite no da!"
"So you shouldn't..."
"Kumagorou's always with me, everywhere! He won't leave and he'll always come back no da!!" he replies cheerfully.
"But you just said he's your treasure AND your favourite." Now it's Akira's turn to protest.
"Yup! He is!" He winks as he starts running off. "Bye-bye! Gotta go! See you there!"
We watch the brunette tear towards the door before exchanging confused glances. I catch the look on Akira's face, recall how red he turned when Ryuuichi kissed his cheek, and start giggling all over again.
He gives me a petulant pout. "You're laughing at me."
"No, I..." I begin between peals of laughter.
"Yes, you are."
"Fine, so I am. It's amusing how ineffably charming Touya Akira gets with a simple peck on the cheek," I tease before bursting into laughter all over again.
"Oh, you... Your life is forfeit!!" he cries in outrage before chasing me down the mall.
A/N: Truth be told, I think the last part sucks but I'll leave it in
your hands. Please R & R and I hope you liked it.
Glossary:
Baka = idiot, stupid, dummy,... Heiki = alright; so 'heiki, heiki' would translate as 'it's alright' Atashi no mono da = girls' way of saying 'my thing'; so it's an equivalent of 'mine' No da/na no da = something like 'you see'. Basically, it doesn't affect the meaning of the sentence; I'm just complying with Ryuuichi's speech patterns
