Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru no Go.
A/N: Look, I don't mind if you criticize my writing. However, please do not assume I do not proofread or have someone else look over my chapters. For those that have trouble understanding, I apologize, but I cannot find someone with the exact same level of comprehension as you. Whether it is too high or too low, please try to understand and read the author's notes.
Notes: There will probably be a time skip in after this chapter or the next. Really, there actually might be more than one. These past chapters have pretty much been the exposition, and I need to start writing the rising action, to be frank. I may write one or two more chapters elaborating on how the rivalry is started, but I haven't read this series in a while. Don't expect too many familiar characters.
Final Decision on the topic of romance: I've decided that if I'm going to get a definite pairing, it's gonna be in a sequel. And there might not be a sequel. Frankly, I would rather it stay a close friendship, if only because I can't stand writing something (that not romance) when there's a romantic relationship involved.
CHAPTER FIVE – WHERE THE LINES OVERLAP
At first glance, the Touya household might look comfortable, peaceful even. Then, a fidget. Tapping of the fingers. Deep and heavy breathing. Eyes darting back and forth. No, in fact, none of us there felt any comfort or peace in that atmosphere. It wasn't some Zen garden or Buddhist temple. This was a place where you did battle, fought until your final breath.
This was a warzone.
"Touya-san, we feel your daughter has some emotional troubles. I wish to put this simply. She plainly ran away from the school, over a kilometer away. Are her living conditions suitable?" The teacher asked this in a clear, crisp voice. I had to respect her for her courage to speak to my father so bluntly. Then again, I did the same to multiple other figures when I was younger.
On the other hand, at least I had good enough reason to.
I adjusted the position in which I was sitting slightly; just ever so slightly to the smallest degree that no one should have noticed. That is, should have. Of course, of all people, Shindo Hikaru had to notice. I should have expected such, though; he had demonstrated his sharp eye multiple times since his introduction.
"Fujimura-sensei, Touya-san, if I may request, am I permitted take my leave for a walk around the garden?" My jaw almost dropped. Almost. Years of training had prepared me for such reactions. The one thing I wanted most to do – leave – was done so easily by Shindo.
"Ah, may Akira-chan accompany me as well?" I sent him a confused look as they nodded.
What are you doing, pretending we're on such good terms?
"You don't have to thank me," he whispered into my ear once we were sure we could at least murmur a conversation. But I ignored his proposal of friendship anyways.
"…Don't call me Akira-chan…" It sounded almost like a question. What had happened to the monotonous, repeating cycle that was my life? I always knew what I was supposed to do, what rules to follow.
And I still do.
"You'll be fine." My eyes darted to his placid expression.
"Wha-what do you mean?"
Damn it, I stuttered.
"Well, you seem kind of worried, so I thought if I started this really long, boring, completely useless, somewhat friendly, a little apathetic, monotonous, off-topic, love declaration, it might help you get your mind off of things. Oh, by the way, I love you." I stopped in my tracks. He stared at my face with a completely serious look about him. I opened my mouth to try to say something, but my throat constricted, and I knew I wouldn't be able to say anything. Then he burst out laughing.
"Oh-oh my god, you should have seen your face! That was priceless!" My face heated up, whether from anger or embarrassment; I didn't particularly care at the time. But I did know what I should have – and did – done. It was the most obvious reaction toward anyone who would have done that to a girl. It was pure instinct. I had never been so irritated or annoyed – angry – previous to that day. And so it was only justifiable I didn't know anger could amplify my strength so much. So I slapped him. It was quiet, and so I knew it was painful. Loud injuries meant only slight sting or shock, and pain to both. But hard, quiet wounds meant a mark had been left upon the victim. I'm sure even relatively short nails like mine would have been painful. The only problem was…
I could see how the blood had gathered to that area to try and help it.
"Ah! We have to get you and ice pack! I'm so sorry! Come on, I always keep my room cold…" I dragged him up to my room, somehow managing to avoid the gaze of my strict headmistress and father. I motioned for him to sit on my bed as I went into my bathroom to grab the medical supplies. I frantically searched for the bandages I kept and rummaged through the cabinet. Rushing back to Shindo, who was cradling his cheek, I knelt down and ran my fingers across the wound, noticing when he flinched and relaxed.
"Okay, I think I've isolated the area. I'll put some cooling gel on it and attach a bandage." I stood up to finish the procedures when I noticed Shindo rubbing his neck.
Of course.
"Ah, your neck. Here, I'll put a hot pack on the back of your neck. It should help."
"N-no, it's fine! It'll be better in an hour!"
"No, it won't. I've had sores before; they don't heal as easily as you think." I stood over him when I noticed a long, shallow, raw wound running down his upper to middle back.
Crash! Boom!
"Akira-nii! Akira-nii, please, wake up!" He only lay motionless in my arms, though I could still feel him breathing. I hugged him, but I felt blood running down his back. A large slash, most likely from the glass shard he had protected me from, plainly revealed itself on his back.
"No! No, Akira-nii, please talk to me!"
"Take off your shirt, we need to bandage that properly," I ordered in a monotone. Shindo was about to protest, but I sent him a glare that read 'Don't argue'.
"You're unexpectedly feminine at some times, Akira-chan."
"I thought I told you to stop calling me so familiarly."
"Ah, right." I briefly wondered where he could have acquired such a wound…Perhaps not briefly. More like I was obsessing over it for a few seconds (if that can be called an obsession) until I finally voiced my curiosity.
"Oh, it's nothing…it's just that last week, I had to run through some trees and very sharp plants. One of the branches got me." So it was my fault. Some trees…bullshit. I still had scratches from blindly running through that small grove of trees. I knew from experience how painful all the pokes and scrapes were. I wasn't idiotic enough to continue the conversation, though.
I muttered a quiet "Oh, I see…" before falling silent.
The shattered glass was iridescent in the pale moonlight. Portions of the destroyed walls were splattered with the sacrificial blood of something. Around me, the scent of death engulfed what was once clean air. I shifted my weight when a startlingly cold liquid lapped at my bare feet. Turning my head, I looked to my right to see small ripples wet the sand on the shore, where I was standing.
Not the sea. My thought came out of my mouth in a faraway whisper, as if it they were not my words. Feeling as if my eyes were glazing over, I stared at the center of the lake (I assumed so) where a small patch of land floated. I almost screamed.
Covering, no, infecting the makeshift island were hundreds of mirrors, all shaped differently, some double-sided, some almost clear. They surrounded only one person – the only other thing on the island. A girl clothed in nothing but a gently flowing white summer dress that gave off an almost ethereal glow. Her hair flowed freely in a slight breeze I had not noticed earlier. She stood in front of her reflection. But what stared back at her was different. In the mirror, a deep cut on her upper arm, blood still pouring onto the limb, was shown. With one fluid, light motion, the girl touched the image and the mirror shattered without a sound. The cut was inflicted upon her.
The process was repeated five more times, each shattered mirror leaving a scar upon the once flawless skin. She approached a large, full-body length mirror. Reflected upon the surface was a knife protruding out of her chest. Blood leaked out of her mouth. She raised her hand slowly.
No, no! Please, don't!
But my pleas were completely silent in a soundless world. And as the mirror shattered, the girl crumpled to the ground, and I stared from the shore with horror as I saw my own form fall, lifeless.