*****

In which Oz has a wish, Watanuki is Not Like That, and Dômeki is inconveniently located as usual.

It was already late when Watanuki returned to the shop, bags overflowing with ingredients for the evening’s dinner, and he was surprised to find no one waiting to help him bring them in. Well, perhaps not *surprised*. “Typical,” he thought, “not even Maru and Moro could be bothered.”

Inside, he found Yūko-san draped over the furniture (as usual), with Maru and Moro settled at her feet, and Mokona perched on her shoulder. “Typical,” he thought, as he hefted his groceries into the kitchen, arms sore from the weight. It was only when he returned from the kitchen that he noticed the short, orange-haired man standing before her, and the taller, dark-haired man a few feet behind him.

“Watanuki,” Yūko beckoned him with lazy fingers. “This is Oz-san. He has come to us with a wish.”

The short man nodded. “Hey.”

Yūko turned back to her customer, Oz-san. “I would have thought you’d be here to ask something for yourself,” she said, “but you’re not.” She tilted her head and pointed her pipe toward him. “Do you no longer wish to be rid of it?”

If Oz-san had any confusion over what she meant, he didn’t show it. He shook his head. “Got it covered. Not worth the price.”

Yūko smiled. “So how might I help you?”

“There’s a girl,” he said, “an old friend. She’s gotten into trouble.”

“Again,” Watanuki thought he heard Oz-san’s companion mutter under his breath.

Oz-san seemed to bite back a smile. “She was working with a group in the Tōhoku region. I don’t know what happened, but something’s wrong. Her power is–” He frowned.

“I have felt it,” Yūko answered, lowering her eyes. “She’s a very powerful witch. If things are left as they are now, she will destroy many lives, as well as her own.”

“We can travel ourselves,” Oz-san continued, gesturing to his companion. “He can get us anywhere. But we need a location, and we were told you might be able to help us with that.”

Watanuki boggled. “You mean you didn’t just stumble by?” His voice was rather loud. “You actually came here on purpose?”

“Watanuki,” Yūko smiled, “he is not our average customer.” She turned again to Oz-san. “This girl. She broke your heart, and yet you still wish to help her?”

Oz-san raised his eyebrows. “He said you knew things.” He whistled, and then smiled. “It’s cool. Been a long time,” he said. “Besides–” He looked back at his companion, whose face turned pink.

Yūko nodded. “But she’s still special?”

“She’s still Willow.”

Yūko eyed him closely. “Very well,” she said, tapping her finger on her nose. “The price is great… but not too great. It is something you may be able to regain if you’re willing to work.”

Oz-san was very still. “My control.”

Yūko nodded. “You understand, then.”

“Oz–” Oz-san’s companion began to protest.

“it’s okay,” Oz-san said, his voice steady and calm in a way that reminded Watanuki maddeningly of Dômeki, “you’ll help.” Oz-san’s companion’s mouth twisted, and Watanuki felt a strong kinship to him.

“I can give you a location within a hundred meters,” Yūko said, bringing Oz-san’s attention back to her. “Is that sufficient?”

Oz-san nodded. “Yes.”

“Please,” Oz-san’s companion began, quietly. His face looked like a shy schoolboy.

“Yes?” Yūko asked.

He cleared his throat. “Neville. I’m Neville,” he said, and as his voice became stronger, he suddenly appeared a larger, almost powerful presence in the room. Yūko sat up to listen. He continued, “I know it’s an imposition, but the full moon is in four days, and if he’s lost his control–” He stopped, becoming the boy again, “I’m sorry, my Japanese… I haven’t been here as long.” He took a deep breath. “The full moon. I can help him, but I wonder–might I borrow your kitchen? I can pay you for it.”

Yūko smiled. “There’s no need for that. We can be hospitable.” She clapped her hands with glee. “And you’ll stay for dinner, too!”

“Dinner too!” Maru and Maro sing-songed together.

Neville-san’s eyes were wide, but his voice was strong again. “My supplies are low. I’ll need a few things–”

“I can get them,” Oz-san broke in.

“Wonderful!” Yūko cried. “Watanuki will take you,” she said, gesturing at him wildly. “Watanuki, we can all have a late dinner tonight, after the kitchen is free. Something special!” she said, all smiles, “And you should pick up extra sake for our guests!”

“Sake! Sake!” sang Mokona, bouncing around the room.

“What?” Watanuki protested, “But I just came back from–” Yūko was still smiling. “Fine, fine,” he said, turning to Oz-san. “Come on.”

*****

Watanuki was so busy pouting, he’d actually forgotten his companion until he spoke.

“Watanuki, right?” Oz-san asked. “Is that too familiar?”

Watanuki frowned. “It’s fine,” he said. “*Oz*,” he thought. “*I’m* certainly not going to–”

“The thing is,” Oz interrupted his thoughts, “I kind of know you.”

“What?” Watanuki shouted, “We just met today!”

“I knew Shizuka’s grandfather a long time ago,” Oz said. “Not too many priests will bother with a werewolf. Gave me these wards.” He indicated something in his right chest pocket. “I still visit when I can.”

“You call Dômeki by his first name??” Watanuki flailed.

Oz frowned. “You’re close friends, right? He talks about you.”

“We are not close!” Watanuki cried.

Oz wrinked his forehead. “Didn’t he give you half his–” he started, then stopped as he noticed the shop across the street. “Oh, we’re here,” he said, and stepped into the intersection.

“Why did she even send me if you already know where you’re going??” Watanuki cried, following after.

Oz-san shrugged. “I like the company.”

They shopped in silence then, for a while, Oz picking out items as he studied a bit of crinkled paper in his hand (mostly odd plants and spices Watanuki did not recognize), and Watanuki studying the overbearing shelf of sake, until Watanuki remembered something from earlier at Yūko’s shop that gave him pause.

“He is your close friend?” Watanuki asked, frowning. “Neville-san?”

Oz smiled. “You might say that.”

“What is…” Suddenly Neville-san’s pink face made horrifying sense. “What, you are like that?” he cried.

Oz raised his eyebrow.

Then Watanuki recalled something that nearly made him drop the sake. “You are not thinking that Dômeki… and I…” He was feeling faint. “It is nothing like that!” he shouted, “I love Himawari-chan! Oh, she is so cute! She is my perfect–” he nearly dropped the sake again. “You think I would… with someone like that?!”

Oz looked amused. “Okay.”

“What??” Watanuki was still shouting, and his arms seemed to move against his will, throwing the sake into constant peril. “I can’t believe she made me come here with you!”

“Listen, Watanuki-kun,” Oz said, his voice still maddeningly calm, “Shizuka–” he began, and then stopped, removing the sake from Watanuki’s hands. He began again, “Dômeki didn’t say that. I just thought it was obvious. I’m sorry for misunderstanding.” Somehow by now they were out of the shop, and the sake was safely in Watanuki’s shopping bag.

Watanuki was suddenly exhausted. “Let’s just go back,” he said, shoulders sinking and then tensing up again as he pondered new horrors. “Oh, now I can never look at him again!” he cried, “That awful Dômeki!”

“What did you say?” asked a voice behind him.

“Dômeki!!” Watanuki felt he might die. “Warn someone before you come up behind them!” he shouted, falling to the ground in agony (though carefully cushioning the shopping bag against his chest).

Dômeki frowned. “I was just standing here,” he said, and then turned to Watanuki’s companion. “Oz.”

“Hey,” Oz said. Both their voices were so calm and emotionless, Watanuki felt that he might vomit.

Dômeki nodded once. “You’re in town.”

“Ahhhh, I have to–” Watanuki shouted, scrambling to his feet, “You have things to talk about, I’m sure. I’ll take these things back to Neville-san at the shop.” He took Oz’s shopping bag from his hand. “You can find your way back when you’re done. Goodbye!”

Watanuki fled down the street, voices still lingering behind him.

“What’s with that guy?” Oz asked.

“Oh nothing,” Dômeki replied, “he’s just an idiot.”

“Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Watanuki cried, pushing his legs to move faster, his pounding heart, of course, due only to exertion.

*****

He was never a genius

He was never a genius, except maybe at Go, but Hikaru knows there’s something weird about one small, old-fashioned house in the middle of a block of office buildings, and a bunch of people having a picnic in the yard just makes it even weirder. It’s only when the skinny kid in the apron nearly drops a plate of food to start pointing at him in a totally overblown way that Hikaru realizes he’s walked halfway up to the door of the place. Of course, they’re all staring at him at this point: the apron kid, an exotic looking lady with a long, ornate pipe, a tall kid in a yukata, a little blond girl, and some kind of black rabbit thing that was trained to hold a cup.

“Ah ha ha,” Hikaru laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything. It was pretty rude of me to come in here, huh?”

The apron kid sighs. “It’s not your fault,” he says, shooting a glare at the lady with the pipe. “I guess you have a customer.”

The pipe lady is staring at Hikaru like he’s a ghost or something. “He’s not here for me,” she finally says.

“What, you’re saying it’s an accident?” the apron kid says, loudly.

The tall kid frowns. “I thought they can’t enter unless they need to.”

The lady leans back in a kind of dramatic pose, with her fancy pipe and everything. “He needs to enter. But he’s not here for me.” Then she looks at the little girl. “Is he?”

The little girl seems kind of startled, but she takes a good look at Hikaru and her eyes go wide.

“Um.” Hikaru is scratching the back of his head again. “I don’t think I’m here for anybody.” He starts heading back toward the street. “Look, I’m really sorry.”

But then the little girl is right next to Hikaru, gesturing for him to lean down, and he figures he shouldn’t be mean to a little girl he doesn’t even know, so he goes along with it.

She whispers, “He knows.”

Hikaru frowns. “Huh?”

The girl’s eyes are so big, and so, so serious. “Sai,” she says. “He knows.”

And suddenly Hikaru has been hit by a bullet train, or that’s what it feels like, and he’s sitting on the ground with tears in his eyes, and the little girl is smiling, like she’s just given him a gift, which he’s pretty sure she has.

“Shizuka-kun,” she calls out softly toward the people at the blanket, but the tall kid is already standing there, holding his hand out to Hikaru, and Hikaru is letting himself be pulled up before he even knows what he’s doing.

“I could have done that, Kohane-chan,” the apron kid mutters, throwing a dirty look at Shizuka-kun, or whatever his name is, and Hikaru might find it funny if he wasn’t so busy being shocked out of his mind.

“Please,” Hikaru says, struggling to blink the tears from his eyes. “How do you know something like that?” But that’s not really what he wants to ask so he tries again, leaning down toward the little girl. “You really know that?”

The girl is serious again, no trace of that brief, bright smile, and she nods.

“Oh,” Hikaru says, and really he can’t think of anything else at the moment.

“Don’t forget the price, Kohane-chan,” the lady says, gently, but in that same ominous tone she’s been throwing around the whole time, and Hikaru starts to panic.

“Oh!” he says, rummaging through the pockets of his jeans. “Um. I was eating before, and I don’t really have much left.” His face is getting hot, and that nervous laugh bubbles up again. “Ha ha, um, can I send it to you or something?”

Now the girl is shaking her head, and the ominous, smoking, crazy lady is smiling at him in a really frightening way, the rabbit-thing is jumping around and speaking Japanese, and Hikaru starts to think he’s pretty much doomed, as the girl takes his hand and leads him towards the others.

She squeezes his hand and smiles again. “Teach me to play Go.”

*****

Ruined

Heading for the hotel lobby on the first day of the second annual Hokuto Cup, Shindou Hikaru felt great. He was playing the best Go of his life. He’d even beaten Touya Akira in a couple of official matches, okay none that really counted for much, but still. He felt great. He was smiling, striding through the hall, thinking about just how great he felt, when he was met with the one sight that could possibly destroy his mood. Ko Yongha. In the hallway. Looking smug.

“Ah, I’ve been waiting for you,” Yongha said, smiling warmly.

Hikaru frowned. “You learned Japanese?”

“Surprised?” Yongha asked. “I’d like to speak to you.”

“Okay,” Hikaru said. “I mean, whatever.” Yongha was getting close very quickly, and Hikaru started to worry that Koreans had a weird idea of personal space, since Yongha’s face was right there, and he was reaching up to ruffle Hikaru’s hair. Then things got weirder, as the ruffling turned into something like fondling. Hikaru yelped.

“That’s right,” said Yongha, maneuvering his face around to stick his tongue in Hikaru’s ear.

Hikaru forgot how to talk. Or move.

“What’s your name again?” Yongha’s mouth was way too close to his ear, though at least he was no longer licking anything. “Shinto?”

Hikaru remembered then how to move, and used this to pull his head away from the insanity. “Hey!” he shouted, “It’s Shindou! And… what the hell?!”

Yongha was laughing, which was really maddening, and Hikaru crossed his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to seem manly or something, but really it was not working, which only made things worse.

“Hey,” Hikaru said, desperately summoning some level of dignity. “I don’t know what kind of seriously wrong Japanese lessons you’ve been taking, but we do not use… ear licking as a polite greeting!” Hikaru frowned. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. I’m sorry you learned such terrible Japanese. You probably don’t even know what I’m saying. Also, your hair is really… flouncy. I’m going into the lobby now.” And for a moment, he thought it might actually be that easy, as he brushed past Yongha, moving toward the room which he knew held such comforting souls as Waya and Touya, and hell, even Ochi would have been a welcome sight at that point, until he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he was being pushed into the wall.

“My Japanese is perfect,” Yongha said, pinning Hikaru in place without even really touching him, which Hikaru did not understand at all, “and I’m definitely not trying to be polite.” Now there was something touching him, and Hikaru was not prepared to look down to see exactly what.

Hikaru was at a loss. He considered the possibility that someone might come by to save him, but that thought was becoming less and less attractive as his embarrassment, uh, rose. “What do you want?” he asked, feeling pathetic.

Ko Yongha ran his tongue over his lips in a terrifying way. “I want to ruin you,” he said. “I want to strip you, slowly, in front of all these people, fuck you until you cry, and then leave you sprawled in humiliation over the goban.”

Hikaru’s brain had, at this point, pretty much been erased. Or so he wished. He heard a sound coming out of his mouth. It might have been some kind of grunt.

Yongha backed away then, laughing again. “That was hilarious,” he said, walking toward the lobby. “You Japanese players really do have more good looks than brains, don’t you?” And then he was gone.

Hikaru slumped, grateful, suddenly, for the support of the wall. He was still trying to work out what had happened when a familiar voice interrupted him.

“Shindou!” Touya’s eyes were dark with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Ha ha,” Hikaru said, rubbing the back of his head. “Of course I’m all right! What could be wrong?”

Touya frowned. “Ko Yongha said you’d had some kind of nervous episode. You aren’t feeling ill, are you?”

Hikaru’s face was burning. “No! Ha ha. Of course not!”

Touya’s face relaxed a bit. “Okay. Let’s go then,” he said, starting back toward the lobby.

“Right,” said Hikaru, following Touya, and then, “Hey, Touya?”

Touya turned to him. “Shindou?”

“Um,” Hikaru smiled sheepishly, “I really need to play Ko Yongha.”

*****

Telepathic

“Shindou, this is ridiculous,” Touya says, shifting irritably on the other side of the goban.  “Can’t we just play?”

“Oh, come on, just try it!” Hikaru replies, trying for a kind of sad puppy look, which Touya’s glare tells him is definitely not working, so he adds some whining for good measure.  “Come ooooooon.”  

Touya rolls his eyes and sighs heavily, but eventually gives Hikaru a reluctant nod.

Hikaru hoots in triumph. “Okay, so you try to send me something,”  Hikaru says, and Touya rolls his eyes again. “Hey, do it seriously!”  

“Shindou…” Touya begins, and Hikaru gears himself up for another bout of whining, but Touya seems to think better of it and just says,  “Fine.”  He closes his eyes.  “I’m sending something.”

Hikaru grins and closes his eyes too, with his fingers at his temples, like in that manga he read last week.  “Ooookay, it’s a… cow?” Touya lets out an impatient breath, and Hikaru hurries on before he can protest.    “No, no, wait, I’ll get it, just keep sending,” he says.  “I see… blotches of light… moving like–”

Touya sighs again.  “That’s just from the light in the room.”

Hikaru opens one eye.  “Shut up and send,” he says, closing his eye again, and taking a deep breath.  He’s starting to see something forming in his brain, like maybe a couple of cats or something?  There’s a lot of movement, and he squishes his eyes shut as much as he can, though it’s pretty hard to concentrate since he never really thought this would work.   “Is it…”

And then he has something, and it’s not at all what he thought.  It’s Touya, and he’s kissing him, with his hands all over Hikaru, up the inside of his shirt and over his chest, feeling for the front of Hikaru’s jeans.  Touya’s mouth is soft and amazing, sending Hikaru spinning, breathless, into a whole new universe of want, and then his hand his there, and Hikaru is shuddering and–  

Hikaru opens his eyes, face burning, breathing hard, carefully not looking at the front of his jeans, and Touya is just sitting there, eyes closed, calm as can be.  Hikaru is afraid to speak, because who the hell knows what he’ll sound like right now, but finally he manages. “Touya.”

Touya opens his eyes, like there’s nothing weird at all.  “What?”

Hikaru gulps.  “What were you sending me?” he demands, not that he really wants it explained, exactly, because that might really push him over the edge.

Touya lifts his eyebrow.  “You want me to tell you?  Doesn’t that defeat–”

“What the hell were you sending?” Hikaru shouts, and he knows he’s repeating himself, but seriously, it’s just not right that Touya can sit there so calmly while Hikaru is basically losing his mind.

“Upper right hoshi,” Touya says, frowning.  “What did you think I’d be sending?”

“Nothing!” Hikaru says, suddenly more embarrassed than he’s ever felt in his life. “Never mind!”  He scratches his head and lets out an unfortunately shaky laugh.   “You’re right, this was totally stupid.  Let’s just play.”

But Touya has gone completely still now, and his face is bright pink, like he’s just been caught cheating, or–

“Oh,” Hikaru says, for the lack of anything else.

“I–” Touya’s eyes drop to the board.  “Yes, let’s play,” he says, reaching for the goke. His hands are shaking a little.

“Touya,” Hikaru says, waiting for Touya to look back up at him, and when he finally does, there’s this moment, just a moment, when their eyes lock together, and even though it lasts for only a second, Hikaru thinks that maybe he finally understands… something.  

Touya’s eyes have moved back to the goban, but his cheeks are still pink, and Hikaru smiles, lifting the lid from his goke.  

“Nigiri.”