a/n: For Jenn-san. Sorry I can't actually write what you want to read – but this comes close. Anyway, this is a little interlude about six months after the last story (for those interested in continuity).
Part 12. Going the Distance
"What is this?" Akira was standing in his doorway, overnight bag in hand, glaring past his old friend at the conveyance parked on the street. He knew what it was, but his mind refused to accept that Hikaru actually meant for them to travel all the way to Izu in such a vehicle.
"Don't you like it? Tsubaki found it for me." Hikaru actually had the nerve to smile and stroke the black leather of the seat. The conveyance remained two-wheeled.
"It's a motorcycle." Akira stated flatly. Clearly some explanation was required.
"Well what do you know? You recognized it! And here Waya thinks you don't get out much..." he grinned, utterly unconcerned.
"Aren't you a little young for mid-life crisis?" The patronizing quip was an instinctive reaction to his rival's smugness, but he regretted it almost instantly as Hikaru seemed to deflate slightly. Then the man gave a rueful smirk.
"There's no crisis a motorcycle can't help. At least that's what Tsubaki says." His eyes were cheerful again. His rival sighed in outward annoyance and inward relief.
"You said you'd arrange a car," he challenged, returning to the matter at hand. Akira's own was in the shop, and when Hikaru had overheard him mentioning it to Ishikawa the other day and offered to share a ride to the conference, he had thought it a stroke of luck. He'd never considered his friend could so misjudge his travel preferences.
"I said I'd split a ride with you," Hikaru corrected, starting to get irritated, but clearly still amused. "I never said on what." The grin was growing wider, and Akira tried to keep anger in the forefront of his mind to dispel his... fear?
"Where will I put my overnight things?" he demanded, cold logic coming to his rescue. Hikaru stepped back slightly to pull open one of the side compartments, revealing a surprisingly capacious cargo space. Or perhaps not.
"Plenty of room." The grin thinned slightly towards stubbornness.
"I don't have a helmet," the safety-conscious man stipulated.
"I brought an extra," the increasingly hostile young man said, handing him what looked like nothing so much as half of an over-sized, bright yellow ping pong ball with black padding and a chin strap. It matched the bike. Something in Shindou's eyes dared him to object for fashion reasons. Touya refrained. He hedged.
"Do you even know how to drive that thing?" He tried to sound disdainful, but his voice was unnaturally high. Shindou's fists clenched at his sides.
"I made it here, didn't I?" The grin was gone and stubbornness was well on its way to single-minded determination. "Anyway, if you keep stalling we're going to be late."
"The conference isn't until tomorrow morning."
"FOR CHECK IN!" Shindou yelled. They glared at each other. Finally, with as much dignity as he could muster, Touya handed his bag to Shindou, who quickly stowed it away. He folded his blazer and tucked it into the open side compartment. "You're gonna want a jacket," commented Shindou. Touya glared harder at the advice, but went back inside to retrieve a seldom-used, but beautifully fitted black leather jacket and gloves. He pulled on all three, zipping the former as he walked down to the motorcycle.
Shindou pulled on his own bright yellow helmet. The stylized "5" emblazoned on its side would have brought a smile to Touya's eyes under other circumstances. As it stood, he resolutely found the fashion statement childish. His rival slid into the front seat and shifted slightly to get comfortable. Shindou smiled at his genteel friend, who glared harder, but managed to situate himself in the passenger seat just the same. Shindou started the engine, then grinned over his shoulder at his reluctant passenger. "Here we go!"
The bike lurched slightly, before settling into motion. Shindou was smiling, clearly enjoying the drive through Touya's quiet, residential neighborhood. His rival, on the other hand, gripped his own knees so hard his knuckles went white. The sight of the ground racing past beneath him was deeply disturbing for all that they were only doing perhaps 40kph at the moment. He brought his eyes back up, feeling vaguely nauseous. A fear he hadn't known he had tightened his shoulders into aching knots, his breath came in panicked gasps, and a distant part of his mind wondered whether Shindou would even notice if he fell off.
"I can't do this," he said.
"WHAT?" Shindou yelled back.
"I CANNOT DO THIS!" And as soon as this infernal machine stops, I am going to kill you, he did not add.
"Geez! If you're that scared, just hold on to my waist and close your eyes!" Rather than slow down, he accelerated slightly, bouncing a little as they crossed a rain channel. Akira found he did not need to be asked twice, and was holding Hikaru for dear life with both eyes squeezed shut before he'd consciously registered what had happened. He felt his rival laughing and silently resolved to destroy him the next time they played. Then Hikaru made a left hand turn, and he concentrated on remembering to breathe.
By the time they reached the highway, Akira was exhausted. His arms ached, his back hurt, his knees felt numb. He hated the motorcycle with a deep and heartfelt loathing, but at least his physical weariness had taken the edge off his fear. A surge of fresh panic turned his stomach as Hikaru accelerated to merge, but Akira discovered himself curiously detached from the sensation. By the time their speed stabilized, he had decided it was the resignation of the samurai who faced every combat as though already dead. The dead, after all, had nothing further to fear from motorcycles or pavement or idiot rivals with no sense of courtesy. At least Hikaru's jacket smelled nice.
When he finally felt confident enough to open his eyes, the sheltered go professional found that the concrete jungle of Tokyo had been replaced by suburbs complete with sporadic hints of forest. The steady traffic of the highway flowed around them like some odd sort of river. A whale-like semi-truck to their left made him blanch with its proximity, but then Hikaru took them past it, and only a brief buffeting of turbulence signaled its memory.
Glancing around carefully, he noticed that the other cars on the road looked strangely short from this new perspective. At one point, he found himself almost eye to eye with an infant in the rear of an SUV. The baby smiled, and he smiled back, ignoring his yellow-headed reflection in the window. He let his arms relax a little.
"Are you okay, Touya?" The words were clearly yelled, but barely audible above the rush of wind past his ears.
"I'm alive!" he yelled back, leaning forward to place his words as close to Shindou's ear as possible. His friend smiled, clearly having missed the "no thanks to you" at the end of Touya's statement. He sped past a tiny Toyota to their left and swung into the lane beside the guardrail. The leaning motion was enough to send his passenger's arms back into their earlier death grip, helmet pressed against his back and eyes once again shut. By now, though, the seemingly fragile young man had become slightly accustomed to the movements of the odd machine. Only ten minutes passed before the amused driver felt his friend relax again.
Hikaru smiled into the wind and looked over the guardrail to the horizon where sparkling ocean could now be seen. It would have been better at sunrise, but it was still a breathtaking view. He wondered if the ocean and the wind and the freedom of the highway were things his rival could ever appreciate. Hikaru himself had taken such things for granted until his brief period of being haunted. Seeing the world through Sai's wistful gaze had shown him the transient beauty of moments, and while he could never ponder them as poetically as his old master could, he recognized their value.
"Isn't this great?" he called to his passenger. He felt the slight shift as Akira turned to look. The sound of the engine and the wind remained unbroken for a long pause. Then he felt the arms around his waist tighten ever so slightly as his passenger stared out to sea.
"Actually, it is..." The words in his ear were oddly introspective, but Hikaru didn't notice. He smiled triumphantly at oncoming traffic.
"Forgive me, now?" he practically crowed.
"I wouldn't go that far."