[rehme]
CATHARSIS
by epigrammist
"Shindou."
"Stop following me, Touya. It was cute back in sixth grade, but now it's just creepy."
Normally, Touya Akira would have glared at his rival for such a remark. But it was obvious that Shindou was having some major issues (apart from his usual ones) and needed someone to be there for him, whether he was willing to admit it or not.
"Shindou, what's wrong?"
"Nothing!"
A restless autumn wind scurried among the leaves littering the grass and sidewalks. Shindou threw a glare over his shoulder, but Touya continued to follow him. They came to a small park about half a mile from Shindou's old school; there wasn't much, just a well-kept lawn bordered by trees and fences, a slide structure, and a small, gray swing set. The empty swings moved uncertainly, as if guided by the ghosts of the children who had once played here.
Shindou's pace was unhurried as he walked toward the swing set, ignoring Touya, who trailed him. He sat down on one of the swings, his legs folding a bit awkwardly as he had long since grown too tall for the child-sized structure.
Touya - fully aware of the fact that the condition of his dress shoes would not be improved by the dirt - seated himself on the swing beside Shindou, holding gingerly onto the half-rusted chains.
"Why haven't you been coming to the study group?"
Shindou kicked at the ground. A small cloud of dust puffed up in the wake of his sneakers. "Not feeling well."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I thought you said you weren't feeling well," Touya pointed out with unerring logic.
"I'm not." Shindou gave him an annoyed look. "Go away, Touya."
"And leave you to mope indeterminably?"
"Who's moping?"
"Something's thrown you back into depression again."
If he hadn't been watching for a sign, Touya would have missed seeing how Shindou's hands tightened around the chains of his swing. He almost missed it anyway. Shindou had always been something of a mystery, and Touya often felt curiously blind when dealing with his rival. There was so much about Shindou Hikaru that he didn't know - that no one knew - and the subject of the mystery did not seem inclined to enlighten anyone.
But even so, Touya knew him well enough to notice when something was wrong. Skipping study sessions, shying away from everyone, even calling the Institution to reschedule a match - the signs were clear enough.
"I'm here to listen, if you want to talk to me," he said quietly.
The silence was only broken by soft creaks of the swing as Shindou dug the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. Even the wind seemed to have paused, as if feeling the weight of the moment.
"Who's your oldest friend, Touya?" Shindou said suddenly. "The one who's known you since forever?"
Touya Akira blinked at the unexpected question. Ashiwara's name was on his lips, but then changed his mind. "Ichikawa-san," he admitted.
Shindou gave him an odd look. Touya resisted the urge to bristle at him, realizing that Shindou's expression clearly said, That's pathetic, Touya.
Touya reminded himself that now was not the time to be picking a fight with Shindou (he could wait until their weekly shouting match). For lack of anything else to say, he asked, "How about you?"
Shindou looked away again. The swing creaked again, and the sound was almost like a kitten's mewling, Touya thought with a wince.
His attention returned to Shindou as the latter finally spoke. "Do you remember that girl we ran into at the train station a few weeks ago, when we were coming back from the convention?"
Touya nodded, wondering where this was going. "Your friend from middle school, right?" He didn't remember her name, though.
"Yeah." Shindou was looking at the ground in front of him, as if there were something highly interesting in the yellow dirt. "I hadn't seen her in years. I didn't go to high school 'cause of go, you know, and things were always coming up, and she was busy studying and all, so we basically stopped talking to each other.
"I ran into her sometimes, since she stayed in Tokyo for college, but she was always with her friends - or else Mitani was there, and then it was just awkward."
"I see," Touya said, even though he didn't.
"That day when we ran into her, she told me to call her when I had time. She said she missed me a lot." Shindou propelled himself backwards with a small kick, then let the swing settle again. "But I didn't. It wasn't that I didn't have time. I just forgot." His hands tightened on the chains. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"
"You're not, Shindou."
"I always take things for granted, and I never appreciate anything until it's taken away from me. First Sai, and now Akari. I've always been like that."
"A lot of people are like that," Touya started, then froze when his brain registered what Shindou had just said. "Wait, what?"
But Shindou didn't seem to hear him. "I should've called her weeks ago. I want to call her now and just say how sorry I am, for everything, but I know I can't anymore because she's gone."
Touya swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. It was suddenly much too quiet.
"A stupid car accident," Shindou continued, "and suddenly everything's changed. I'm never going to see her again. I can't believe it. People aren't supposed to die so young."
Touya looked away, almost wishing that he hadn't decided to follow Shindou and have this confrontation. What was he supposed to say? Was there a prescribed formula for situations like this? "I'm sorry" seemed so inadequate.
They sat on the swings in silence, and time passed by, steady and relentless. A lone bird chirped somewhere nearby, and was answered by another in the distance.
Touya looked up again when Shindou sighed. "Sorry, Touya. I shouldn't have said all that."
"I don't mind. I told you that I'd listen to anything you want to talk about, if it helps."
"Yeah... Thanks, Touya. You're a good friend."
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
"I'm just regretting, that's all. I'm starting to regret having to regret so much. It sucks, feeling like this all the time."
"What do you regret?"
"A lot of things." Shindou fell silent again for a moment. Then, finally, he looked at Touya, and smiled - it was a wan smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I bet you're thinking about how I mentioned Sai just now."
Touya felt a guilty expression creep over his features, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity. "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."
"But I want to. I've made enough stupid mistakes; I don't want to regret this, too." Shindou looked up at the sky, letting out a soundless sigh. The swing rocked gently.
"Please tell me, then," said Touya.
Shindou turned to him, and his smile was a bit crooked, but his eyes were deep and green and full of promises.
"Sai was a go player in the Heian era," he began.
by epigrammist
"Shindou."
"Stop following me, Touya. It was cute back in sixth grade, but now it's just creepy."
Normally, Touya Akira would have glared at his rival for such a remark. But it was obvious that Shindou was having some major issues (apart from his usual ones) and needed someone to be there for him, whether he was willing to admit it or not.
"Shindou, what's wrong?"
"Nothing!"
A restless autumn wind scurried among the leaves littering the grass and sidewalks. Shindou threw a glare over his shoulder, but Touya continued to follow him. They came to a small park about half a mile from Shindou's old school; there wasn't much, just a well-kept lawn bordered by trees and fences, a slide structure, and a small, gray swing set. The empty swings moved uncertainly, as if guided by the ghosts of the children who had once played here.
Shindou's pace was unhurried as he walked toward the swing set, ignoring Touya, who trailed him. He sat down on one of the swings, his legs folding a bit awkwardly as he had long since grown too tall for the child-sized structure.
Touya - fully aware of the fact that the condition of his dress shoes would not be improved by the dirt - seated himself on the swing beside Shindou, holding gingerly onto the half-rusted chains.
"Why haven't you been coming to the study group?"
Shindou kicked at the ground. A small cloud of dust puffed up in the wake of his sneakers. "Not feeling well."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"I thought you said you weren't feeling well," Touya pointed out with unerring logic.
"I'm not." Shindou gave him an annoyed look. "Go away, Touya."
"And leave you to mope indeterminably?"
"Who's moping?"
"Something's thrown you back into depression again."
If he hadn't been watching for a sign, Touya would have missed seeing how Shindou's hands tightened around the chains of his swing. He almost missed it anyway. Shindou had always been something of a mystery, and Touya often felt curiously blind when dealing with his rival. There was so much about Shindou Hikaru that he didn't know - that no one knew - and the subject of the mystery did not seem inclined to enlighten anyone.
But even so, Touya knew him well enough to notice when something was wrong. Skipping study sessions, shying away from everyone, even calling the Institution to reschedule a match - the signs were clear enough.
"I'm here to listen, if you want to talk to me," he said quietly.
The silence was only broken by soft creaks of the swing as Shindou dug the toe of his sneaker in the dirt. Even the wind seemed to have paused, as if feeling the weight of the moment.
"Who's your oldest friend, Touya?" Shindou said suddenly. "The one who's known you since forever?"
Touya Akira blinked at the unexpected question. Ashiwara's name was on his lips, but then changed his mind. "Ichikawa-san," he admitted.
Shindou gave him an odd look. Touya resisted the urge to bristle at him, realizing that Shindou's expression clearly said, That's pathetic, Touya.
Touya reminded himself that now was not the time to be picking a fight with Shindou (he could wait until their weekly shouting match). For lack of anything else to say, he asked, "How about you?"
Shindou looked away again. The swing creaked again, and the sound was almost like a kitten's mewling, Touya thought with a wince.
His attention returned to Shindou as the latter finally spoke. "Do you remember that girl we ran into at the train station a few weeks ago, when we were coming back from the convention?"
Touya nodded, wondering where this was going. "Your friend from middle school, right?" He didn't remember her name, though.
"Yeah." Shindou was looking at the ground in front of him, as if there were something highly interesting in the yellow dirt. "I hadn't seen her in years. I didn't go to high school 'cause of go, you know, and things were always coming up, and she was busy studying and all, so we basically stopped talking to each other.
"I ran into her sometimes, since she stayed in Tokyo for college, but she was always with her friends - or else Mitani was there, and then it was just awkward."
"I see," Touya said, even though he didn't.
"That day when we ran into her, she told me to call her when I had time. She said she missed me a lot." Shindou propelled himself backwards with a small kick, then let the swing settle again. "But I didn't. It wasn't that I didn't have time. I just forgot." His hands tightened on the chains. "I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"
"You're not, Shindou."
"I always take things for granted, and I never appreciate anything until it's taken away from me. First Sai, and now Akari. I've always been like that."
"A lot of people are like that," Touya started, then froze when his brain registered what Shindou had just said. "Wait, what?"
But Shindou didn't seem to hear him. "I should've called her weeks ago. I want to call her now and just say how sorry I am, for everything, but I know I can't anymore because she's gone."
Touya swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. It was suddenly much too quiet.
"A stupid car accident," Shindou continued, "and suddenly everything's changed. I'm never going to see her again. I can't believe it. People aren't supposed to die so young."
Touya looked away, almost wishing that he hadn't decided to follow Shindou and have this confrontation. What was he supposed to say? Was there a prescribed formula for situations like this? "I'm sorry" seemed so inadequate.
They sat on the swings in silence, and time passed by, steady and relentless. A lone bird chirped somewhere nearby, and was answered by another in the distance.
Touya looked up again when Shindou sighed. "Sorry, Touya. I shouldn't have said all that."
"I don't mind. I told you that I'd listen to anything you want to talk about, if it helps."
"Yeah... Thanks, Touya. You're a good friend."
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
"I'm just regretting, that's all. I'm starting to regret having to regret so much. It sucks, feeling like this all the time."
"What do you regret?"
"A lot of things." Shindou fell silent again for a moment. Then, finally, he looked at Touya, and smiled - it was a wan smile, but a smile nonetheless. "I bet you're thinking about how I mentioned Sai just now."
Touya felt a guilty expression creep over his features, but his eyes betrayed his curiosity. "You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."
"But I want to. I've made enough stupid mistakes; I don't want to regret this, too." Shindou looked up at the sky, letting out a soundless sigh. The swing rocked gently.
"Please tell me, then," said Touya.
Shindou turned to him, and his smile was a bit crooked, but his eyes were deep and green and full of promises.
"Sai was a go player in the Heian era," he began.