Original

Disclaimer: Hotta and Obata's. Enough said.
Rating: K+ (as always, for concepts)
Summary: Waya doesn't like being compared to Le Ping. Not at all. IsumiWaya, of course.

It wasn't that Waya had a grudge against the Chinese kid. He wasn't particularly nationalistic, and he actually enjoyed working with younger kids. Usually. There were always exceptions, because exceptions were the rules of life.

Waya didn't dislike the kid...it was more of a matter of pride. Of authenticity, if you would have it that way. Waya Yoshitaka was constantly being compared against the rest of the world -- by his mother, by Morishita-sensei, by himself -- but it was something new to be called a "clone."

Looking at a few pictures Isumi had brought back from China, though, he had to admit that the punk really did look like him -- it was scary, how similar they appeared.

But that still doesn't give Isumi the right to call him "mini-Waya," or me "grown-up Le Ping," Waya though sourly. It's like he only remembered me because of min-- Le Ping. I am very much my own, unique self!

Waya was sulking. He was seriously considering ignoring Isumi for the rest of the day. Honestly, the first thing he said to Waya after coming back from a prolonged stay in China was "Le Ping! You've grown up!" And even now, at a fast food restaurant for a snack, Isumi kept sliding in bits about Le Ping. Like his logic about the stomach ache.

Waya had missed his friend for these past months. It was bad enough after the pro exam, when he passed and Isumi didn't. But now add this trip on top of it...Waya wondered if they were really still friends.

None of this was helping Waya's mood. The sulkiness settled in cozily.

It was really was a shame that no one ever told Waya how sulking made him look particularly adorable.

Caught up in his own moody thoughts, Waya momentarily lost track of their conversation.

"...common with Le Ping, in terms of appearance."

Not Le Ping again! The annoyance tripled, quadrupled even. He was sick of being compared to the Chinese kid! It was Isumi's first day back, the first day they'd spent together in a long time; couldn't he talk about something else at least?

"How is that even possible?" he grouched, staring down at his soft drink. "I thought I was already 'an exact replica' of Le Ping."

Waya didn't see Isumi's smile. "Well, it's kind of a quirk too, if you'll have it that way," he said. "You both look even cuter than usual when you're sulking."

"How is that--" Waya paused, glancing up quickly as he suddenly realized what Isumi had just said. Cute? As in...well, cute?

The look of shock must have been very apparent on his face. Isumi raised an eyebrow, questioning. "Did I say something?"

"You said..." Now Waya was confused. Where was this conversation going? Isumi sounded perfectly normal, but...

But what? Waya asked himself. What the heck do I think this is about, anyway?

He must be overreacting.

"Nothing," he finished lamely, sipping his drink to spare himself an awkward silence.

"Want to go for a walk?"

"Eh?" Waya now looked even more confused than before. After blinking for a few seconds, he shook himself mentally, (Stop that, you idiot!) and offered a small smile. "Sure. But what about your bag? You'll have to lug it around with you."

"It's fine," Isumi said, standing up. "There isn't too much in there, and I don't mind carrying it around for a while."

Ten minutes later found them ambling aimlessly around, carefully avoiding the more crowded streets.

"You really liked China, didn't you?" Waya asked, during a lull in their conversation.

Isumi took his time to think of a reply. "I got the chance to play against a lot of great players, and with Liu-san's help, I have more confidence in myself now." He paused for a moment, trying to decide how to launch the next part. "But you know what they say: home is where the heart is."

Waya glanced at him, a hint of puzzlement flickering through his eyes. "I'm going to assume that wasn't stated out of nationalism," he said, with just a hint of sarcasm.

Isumi chuckled. "No, not nationalism. My friends are all here, and this is my homeland, after all. I was pretty homesick for a few days in China."

"You made it sound so great, I didn't think you remembered us at all." The statement tumbled from Waya's mouth before he had time to think it over. Realizing the bitterness in his tone, he hastily added, "I mean, you didn't call or anything, and I hadn't seen you for so long and when I heard you decided to stay for a few months--"

"Were you worried?"

His tirade gently cut off, Waya glanced up at Isumi. I've gotten a little taller in the past few months, Waya noted absently. And since when did Isumi's hair look so soft? Or his eyes... Waya suddenly had to divert his attention to keeping a blush from his cheeks.

He swallowed, willing himself not to squeak. What should he say?

"I..." I wasn't worried at all. That sounded way too snobbish and uncaring. I was worried for you, especially after the pro exam. I didn't want to see you so depressed and shaken, it really hurt me...That didn't sound right either. As Waya sifted through his jumbled thoughts, his traitorous instincts took control of his vocal cords.

"I missed you." Where did that come from? But even as he uttered the statement, Waya found himself blushing. He ducked his head, to hide the color in his cheeks. What in the world was wrong with him today?

Long, slender fingers twined around his own, and Waya nearly jumped out of his skin, only to freeze as he felt Isumi squeeze his hand gently. His heart stopped for a moment, then continued to beat at what seemed twice its normal rate.

"You really missed me?" Isumi asked, a small smile on his lips. He continued to walk along, and Waya followed, feeling slightly weak in the knees. He willed himself not to stare, or blush, say or do anything incredibly stupid. But with the way things were going, self-control was quickly spinning out of his grasp.

"Yes." The speed at which his heart was pounding couldn't be healthy for him. Waya wondered if that was the reason why he was feeling a bit faint and lightheaded. "I really missed you, Isumi."

"It's just 'Isumi' now?" he asked mildly.

"Well...I am a pro," Waya said impishly. His heart calmed slightly. This was better. Go was something he understood and could talk about...though the fact that Isumi hadn't let go of his hand yet was adding a new dimension of distraction. "But you're going to turn pro in a few weeks, so I'm not planning on getting used to it."

Isumi laughed. "That's a bit overconfident, isn't it?" He smiled warmly at Waya, who felt his knees turn to jelly again. "Still, I'm glad you believe in me. And I'm also glad you're still my friend."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There was just the slightest of a teasing tone in Isumi's voice as he replied, "I thought you were annoyed with me over the whole 'mini-Waya' thing."

This got him a faint scowl from (original) Waya. He just had to remind me.

"I don't see why you're so worked up over it," he complained. "And I'd almost forgotten before you reminded me." Waya made a face at his friend. Isumi smiled, and squeezed his hand in reply.

"But you should know," he said, as Waya went into another round of battles with that dreaded blush, "that it doesn't matter how much Le Ping looks like you. There will never be anyone who can take your place."

Waya felt his heart flutter; a small, cynical corner of his mind wondered if he should go see a doctor about heart problems. The rest of his consciousness told it to shut up.

"R-really?" Damnit! Why am I blushing again?

"Absolutely." Isumi paused, then added, "So am I forgiven now?"

"Huh? What did you ever need forgiveness for?"

Isumi just smiled. "Good to hear. I'd hate to have to go home with you mad at me." He finally let go of Waya's hand, and shifted the weight of his bag so the strap was no longer digging into his shoulder blade. "I'll see you some other time, then."

Waya stretched his fingers for a moment, suddenly missing the warmth of Isumi's hand.

"See you," he called after his friend. He firmly told himself not to be stupid and wish that Isumi could stay for longer. It's not like he's going away or anything. Just a call, and maybe next Saturday or something...

Well, there was more time to think about that. Right now, he figured it would be best to go home before he fainted.

I'm just tired. Nothing a short nap can't take off.

Waya firmly ignored the voice in his head that kept telling him how very good he was at lying to himself.

I'm thinking about an epilogue, or maybe a sequel of sorts. This was originally intended to end with a kiss (yesh, I'm unoriginal), but then I decided to be a rebel and keep it open ended.

...It's mostly because I want to keep myself inspired. Anyway. Reviews and comments and always appreciated!