[kudo norio]
A SEASON OF BLACK CHRYSANTHEMUMS: WINTER
by corbeaun
* * *
Part 3
* * *
Akari was looking forward to seeing Hikaru again.
On the phone the last time they'd talked, he had sounded so much happier. "Akari!" he'd told her, "I'm playing go again." She had been shocked at first, and only stammered back some inane comment on how 'nice' that was. Then she'd had to hang up because Hikaru said he had to leave - something about meeting someone for a match. She told him she would see him as soon as she got home from college and calmly said goodbye. Inside, her head was whirring: she remembered clearly how upset Hikaru had been that last year in middle school, the terribly final way in which he'd stated that he had quit go. She remembered also a few years later, how often he had escaped next door to her house after he'd announced to his parents the decision to not apply to college. "That life, it would be a lie," he'd insisted. And Akari, knowing the particularly uncompromising bent of Hikaru's character, could only agree.
Her parents began to encourage her not to associate with him anymore. They tried to be subtle about it, but Akari knew the blunt truth of what they meant:
There was no future for a man without a college degree. For those who dropped out of Japan's competitive education system, there were only the menial jobs - often fulfilled by low wage-earning foreigners - or, far more likely, the ranks of organized crime.
Her parents did not want their daughter attached to such a man.
Akari knew all this, but still she refused to break off contact with Hikaru. The years had smoothed off most of his rough edges, and what was left she found endearing. Sometimes she found herself missing the old, brash Shindo Hikaru; the sight of his unbleached black bangs - in mourning, she'd often thought - cast a quietness over her interactions with him. But the man he had become was someone she increasingly admired. She had grown up with Hikaru, played and fought with him, and she felt that - more than anyone else - she knew what an honest and gentle heart he had.
Two years of close contact with college boys had only shown her how much brighter and more decent Shindo Hikaru was. For one thing, Hikaru had always treated her as an independent thinking human being, and despite his brashness, never looked down on her or expected anything less of her simply because she was female. In fact, he had been one of her staunchest supporters when she'd decided to apply to Tokyo University to be a doctor.
Now, smoothing back her hair one last time, she turned away from the mirror and gathered the shopping bag containing the newly knit scarf and a box of Hikaru's favorite pastries. Running down the stairs, and past the kitchen on her way to the front door, she called out, "Mom! I'm going out for a bit. I might be late for dinner!"
Her mom immediately hurried after her, wringing her hands in her apron. "You just got back for vacation, sweetheart. Do you have to go out now?"
Slipping on her shoes, Akari leaned over and quickly kissed her mom on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be back before dark."
As she opened the door, she heard a heavy, resigned sigh behind her. Then, "Tell Hikaru hello for me."
Akari looked back over her shoulder in surprise. Then she smiled. "I will." Before she closed the door, she paused and added, "Thanks, Mom." The door closed, shutting on her mother's unhappy and anxious face.
Akari passed the time on the train thinking contentedly of the way her life was going. Her parents were not going to be a problem. And money was not an issue. At the very least, Hikaru would not be demanding she quit her career in order to raise a family. If anything, Hikaru would be the one staying at home with the kids. Akari pondered this thought, and found she liked it, very much so.
Warned by these imaginings, Akari greeted Hikaru's wide welcoming grin with a great, unrestrained smile.
"Akari!" he shouted from across the restaurant.
The shop was unusually empty, now being the time between lunch and dinner. The few customers seated at the counter only chuckled at Hikaru's exuberance, and went back to slurping their noodles. A wink sent her way by a friendly old grandfather made Akari blush slightly in happy embarrassment.
"Jun!" Hikaru called into the kitchen, eagerly untying his apron, "I'm taking a break!"
"Is that Akari-chan?" The older woman stuck her head out of the kitchen. She smiled, seeing Akari bow in greeting. "All right, Shindo," she waved at Hikaru. "You have the next half-hour off. Don't be late!"
Hikaru waved a cheerful thanks, and quickly led Akari through a door to the back of the store where an impromptu arrangement of a sofa, table and television constituted the employees' resting lounge. Akari threw off her heavy winter coat and gloves with relief. The shopping bag she placed carefully next to her on the ground.
"So, Hikaru," she smiled, sitting down on the sofa, "tell me what happened. How did you suddenly decide to take up go again?"
A few informative minutes later, a cold, empty pit was forming deep in her belly.
Touya, Touya, Touya.
It was like middle school all over again.
Back then, he'd been like that too. Every other word out of his mouth would be 'go' or 'Touya,' so that she hadn't known how to talk to him anymore. The only time she could get him to spend with her had been the few free afternoons he had used to play shidougo with her in order to 'relax' himself before a big game. In the beginning, she had briefly wished Hikaru would give up go - just for a while, and go play soccer again or something else that was more his age. But seeing his dedication to the game, she knew she couldn't really wish it of him. His enthusiasm had dragged her in instead. And Touya, she remembered from that memorable tournament battle between the third-boards, had been just as dedicated as Hikaru - if not more.
She had thought it weird, the unbelievable passion the boys put into a board game and each other. At the time she'd dismissed it as unworthy of her. Then Hikaru had quit go, and didn't speak to her about it for years. She had almost entirely forgotten.
But now the past was back. The feeling from back then...
Akari interrupted the beginning of another of Hikaru's tirade on how utterly frustrating Touya Akira was, and how he was being absolutely impossible, because there was just no way, no way at all, Hikaru was going back as a go pro without him. The worst part of it was - the absolute pits, Hikaru emphasized - was how Touya refused to meet with him until he agreed.
"Hikaru," she said slowly. "How do you think of me?"
The man looked startled at her out-of-the-blue question. He snapped his mouth shut mid-word. "What?" He shook his head, "Akari, what do you mean?"
"When you think of the future, Hikaru," she stressed, "what do you see for you and me?"
He smiled easily, and replied, "You're my friend, Akari."
Disappointment was heavy and bitter. "And nothing else?"
Hikaru looked clearly confused. "What else is there?" he asked.
"I'm a girl."
Hikaru stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, speaking something so obvious. "Yeah?"
"I'm a girl," she stressed, "and you're a guy. And most guys would have noticed if a pretty girl was visiting their workplace, giving them food, and calling them whenever she had the chance."
Hikaru's eyes had grown very wide. "...oh," he said, in a very small voice.
Akari's shoulder had drawn up defensively. "Well?" she demanded. She had just as well confessed her feelings. "Is that all you can say?"
"But Akari," Hikaru pleaded weakly, "I've known you forever."
For a moment, she stared uncomprehendingly at him. Then she clenched her hands, and looked down at the bag beside her feet containing the pastries that she'd looked all over for Shibuya for because it was Hikaru's favorite.
"I've known you forever, too," she said quietly. "But it's only let me like you more."
There was a long, and awkward pause. Then she heard Hikaru say her name softly. His knees shifted over to hers on the sofa. "Akari," he repeated, louder, when she didn't respond. She looked up when he touched her gingerly on the hand. "I like you too," he said seriously; her heart skipped a beat - "...But I don't think it's like that."
She grabbed onto his hand. "Can't you -" she swallowed hard, "can't you try?"
Looking much older than his years, Hikaru only regarded her gently. He did not move to pull his hand away. "It doesn't work that way, Akari," he said quietly.
She dropped his hand.
"How do you think it works?" she asked harshly. She truly wanted to know Hikaru's mind on this.
Sheepishly, Hikaru put a hand to the back of his head. "I'm not sure." He hesitated. "I don't believe in fireworks and stuff like that, but something, maybe? A spark? Something that makes a person stand out from everyone else." He shrugged. "Honestly, it's not something I think about. Working here takes up enough of my time as it is. That and now, go." He laughed a little, forcefully, "Hey, it's a good thing you're not going to be wasting your time on me anymore. You deserve some guy whose life isn't one big mess."
Silently, Akari stood up and gathered her coat and gloves from the sofa.
"Here." She shoved the shopping bag with his Christmas presents, including the pastry box, into his arms; she did not make contact with his eyes. "This is for you. Make sure you eat enough - you forget sometimes." She quickly pulled on her coat and buttoned herself up. On her way past Hikaru, she told him, "Call me anytime. Like you said, we're friends. Just," she hesitated, then continued unsteadily, still not meeting his eyes, "just maybe not in the next few weeks."
There was a strained silence, then: "Thanks, Akari." Hikaru's voice was low and grateful.
At the doorway, she paused.
"I'm glad you found him," she said suddenly. "Despite everything," she glanced over her shoulder at Hikaru, "...you seem like yourself again."
Akari smiled sadly at the bemused look on Hikaru's face, but left before he could demand what she meant. He'll figure it out soon enough.
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by corbeaun
* * *
Part 3
* * *
Akari was looking forward to seeing Hikaru again.
On the phone the last time they'd talked, he had sounded so much happier. "Akari!" he'd told her, "I'm playing go again." She had been shocked at first, and only stammered back some inane comment on how 'nice' that was. Then she'd had to hang up because Hikaru said he had to leave - something about meeting someone for a match. She told him she would see him as soon as she got home from college and calmly said goodbye. Inside, her head was whirring: she remembered clearly how upset Hikaru had been that last year in middle school, the terribly final way in which he'd stated that he had quit go. She remembered also a few years later, how often he had escaped next door to her house after he'd announced to his parents the decision to not apply to college. "That life, it would be a lie," he'd insisted. And Akari, knowing the particularly uncompromising bent of Hikaru's character, could only agree.
Her parents began to encourage her not to associate with him anymore. They tried to be subtle about it, but Akari knew the blunt truth of what they meant:
There was no future for a man without a college degree. For those who dropped out of Japan's competitive education system, there were only the menial jobs - often fulfilled by low wage-earning foreigners - or, far more likely, the ranks of organized crime.
Her parents did not want their daughter attached to such a man.
Akari knew all this, but still she refused to break off contact with Hikaru. The years had smoothed off most of his rough edges, and what was left she found endearing. Sometimes she found herself missing the old, brash Shindo Hikaru; the sight of his unbleached black bangs - in mourning, she'd often thought - cast a quietness over her interactions with him. But the man he had become was someone she increasingly admired. She had grown up with Hikaru, played and fought with him, and she felt that - more than anyone else - she knew what an honest and gentle heart he had.
Two years of close contact with college boys had only shown her how much brighter and more decent Shindo Hikaru was. For one thing, Hikaru had always treated her as an independent thinking human being, and despite his brashness, never looked down on her or expected anything less of her simply because she was female. In fact, he had been one of her staunchest supporters when she'd decided to apply to Tokyo University to be a doctor.
Now, smoothing back her hair one last time, she turned away from the mirror and gathered the shopping bag containing the newly knit scarf and a box of Hikaru's favorite pastries. Running down the stairs, and past the kitchen on her way to the front door, she called out, "Mom! I'm going out for a bit. I might be late for dinner!"
Her mom immediately hurried after her, wringing her hands in her apron. "You just got back for vacation, sweetheart. Do you have to go out now?"
Slipping on her shoes, Akari leaned over and quickly kissed her mom on the cheek. "Don't worry. I'll be back before dark."
As she opened the door, she heard a heavy, resigned sigh behind her. Then, "Tell Hikaru hello for me."
Akari looked back over her shoulder in surprise. Then she smiled. "I will." Before she closed the door, she paused and added, "Thanks, Mom." The door closed, shutting on her mother's unhappy and anxious face.
Akari passed the time on the train thinking contentedly of the way her life was going. Her parents were not going to be a problem. And money was not an issue. At the very least, Hikaru would not be demanding she quit her career in order to raise a family. If anything, Hikaru would be the one staying at home with the kids. Akari pondered this thought, and found she liked it, very much so.
Warned by these imaginings, Akari greeted Hikaru's wide welcoming grin with a great, unrestrained smile.
"Akari!" he shouted from across the restaurant.
The shop was unusually empty, now being the time between lunch and dinner. The few customers seated at the counter only chuckled at Hikaru's exuberance, and went back to slurping their noodles. A wink sent her way by a friendly old grandfather made Akari blush slightly in happy embarrassment.
"Jun!" Hikaru called into the kitchen, eagerly untying his apron, "I'm taking a break!"
"Is that Akari-chan?" The older woman stuck her head out of the kitchen. She smiled, seeing Akari bow in greeting. "All right, Shindo," she waved at Hikaru. "You have the next half-hour off. Don't be late!"
Hikaru waved a cheerful thanks, and quickly led Akari through a door to the back of the store where an impromptu arrangement of a sofa, table and television constituted the employees' resting lounge. Akari threw off her heavy winter coat and gloves with relief. The shopping bag she placed carefully next to her on the ground.
"So, Hikaru," she smiled, sitting down on the sofa, "tell me what happened. How did you suddenly decide to take up go again?"
A few informative minutes later, a cold, empty pit was forming deep in her belly.
Touya, Touya, Touya.
It was like middle school all over again.
Back then, he'd been like that too. Every other word out of his mouth would be 'go' or 'Touya,' so that she hadn't known how to talk to him anymore. The only time she could get him to spend with her had been the few free afternoons he had used to play shidougo with her in order to 'relax' himself before a big game. In the beginning, she had briefly wished Hikaru would give up go - just for a while, and go play soccer again or something else that was more his age. But seeing his dedication to the game, she knew she couldn't really wish it of him. His enthusiasm had dragged her in instead. And Touya, she remembered from that memorable tournament battle between the third-boards, had been just as dedicated as Hikaru - if not more.
She had thought it weird, the unbelievable passion the boys put into a board game and each other. At the time she'd dismissed it as unworthy of her. Then Hikaru had quit go, and didn't speak to her about it for years. She had almost entirely forgotten.
But now the past was back. The feeling from back then...
Akari interrupted the beginning of another of Hikaru's tirade on how utterly frustrating Touya Akira was, and how he was being absolutely impossible, because there was just no way, no way at all, Hikaru was going back as a go pro without him. The worst part of it was - the absolute pits, Hikaru emphasized - was how Touya refused to meet with him until he agreed.
"Hikaru," she said slowly. "How do you think of me?"
The man looked startled at her out-of-the-blue question. He snapped his mouth shut mid-word. "What?" He shook his head, "Akari, what do you mean?"
"When you think of the future, Hikaru," she stressed, "what do you see for you and me?"
He smiled easily, and replied, "You're my friend, Akari."
Disappointment was heavy and bitter. "And nothing else?"
Hikaru looked clearly confused. "What else is there?" he asked.
"I'm a girl."
Hikaru stared at her as if she'd lost her mind, speaking something so obvious. "Yeah?"
"I'm a girl," she stressed, "and you're a guy. And most guys would have noticed if a pretty girl was visiting their workplace, giving them food, and calling them whenever she had the chance."
Hikaru's eyes had grown very wide. "...oh," he said, in a very small voice.
Akari's shoulder had drawn up defensively. "Well?" she demanded. She had just as well confessed her feelings. "Is that all you can say?"
"But Akari," Hikaru pleaded weakly, "I've known you forever."
For a moment, she stared uncomprehendingly at him. Then she clenched her hands, and looked down at the bag beside her feet containing the pastries that she'd looked all over for Shibuya for because it was Hikaru's favorite.
"I've known you forever, too," she said quietly. "But it's only let me like you more."
There was a long, and awkward pause. Then she heard Hikaru say her name softly. His knees shifted over to hers on the sofa. "Akari," he repeated, louder, when she didn't respond. She looked up when he touched her gingerly on the hand. "I like you too," he said seriously; her heart skipped a beat - "...But I don't think it's like that."
She grabbed onto his hand. "Can't you -" she swallowed hard, "can't you try?"
Looking much older than his years, Hikaru only regarded her gently. He did not move to pull his hand away. "It doesn't work that way, Akari," he said quietly.
She dropped his hand.
"How do you think it works?" she asked harshly. She truly wanted to know Hikaru's mind on this.
Sheepishly, Hikaru put a hand to the back of his head. "I'm not sure." He hesitated. "I don't believe in fireworks and stuff like that, but something, maybe? A spark? Something that makes a person stand out from everyone else." He shrugged. "Honestly, it's not something I think about. Working here takes up enough of my time as it is. That and now, go." He laughed a little, forcefully, "Hey, it's a good thing you're not going to be wasting your time on me anymore. You deserve some guy whose life isn't one big mess."
Silently, Akari stood up and gathered her coat and gloves from the sofa.
"Here." She shoved the shopping bag with his Christmas presents, including the pastry box, into his arms; she did not make contact with his eyes. "This is for you. Make sure you eat enough - you forget sometimes." She quickly pulled on her coat and buttoned herself up. On her way past Hikaru, she told him, "Call me anytime. Like you said, we're friends. Just," she hesitated, then continued unsteadily, still not meeting his eyes, "just maybe not in the next few weeks."
There was a strained silence, then: "Thanks, Akari." Hikaru's voice was low and grateful.
At the doorway, she paused.
"I'm glad you found him," she said suddenly. "Despite everything," she glanced over her shoulder at Hikaru, "...you seem like yourself again."
Akari smiled sadly at the bemused look on Hikaru's face, but left before he could demand what she meant. He'll figure it out soon enough.
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