[Fic] Crossing Boundaries 1/? (Hikaru no Go)
Title: Crossing Boundaries (Chapter 1: Mistranslation)
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Le Ping/Isumi, Hikaru, Waya, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 3550+ words / gen
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to viridian_magpie's foot.
Isumi's phone vibrated, a low but steady buzzing sound coming from his bag just as he opened a locker to put his things away. It cut off after two seconds, which meant it was either an e-mail, or the person had dialed the wrong number.
Who could that be? Isumi wondered. Waya liked to message before important matches, but Waya was right here beside him, stuffing bag and bento into the locker two rows down and three across. Maybe it was Shindou, but Shindou never bothered to message when he could call. And besides, Isumi was playing Waya. Shindou tended not to pick sides between friends.
Motioning to Waya to go on ahead and get ready, Isumi unzipped the front pocket and pulled out his phone. Flipping it open, he looked at the screen. 1 new e-mail, it said. Isumi opened it.
Dear Isumi,
Congratulations on victory from Kadowaki. Yang Hai shows me how to looking you up on the internet after I yelling him. It's great! Now I know your playing all the time! Isumi will win the title from creepy old man this year! Party! By the way, I will coming Japan at next week for New Stars Tournament again. I stay with you? I really like you, so don't waste time with couch for me, since it's lumpy anyway and not good for sleeping or other things. See you soon!
Le Ping
It took a moment to decipher, because Mandarin just didn't always translate well to kanji, whatever some people thought. When he finally got the gist of it, Isumi's eyes widened at the last two sentences just before he found himself staring at his palm as the phone was unceremoniously snatched from his hands.
"What's this, Isumi-san? You're red. Whoa." Waya's eyes nearly crossed looking at the e-mail. "Is this even Japanese?"
Isumi felt the color draining out of his face as Waya squinted at the screen. Unlike Shindou, he wasn't sure how well Waya knew his kanji, since Waya's grades in school had been decent. If he tried to get the phone back, though, Waya would most definitely know something was wrong. "It's Chinese," he said. Perhaps full disclosure would convince Waya there was nothing of interest in that e-mail.
"Gimme!" Shindou came up behind Waya and grabbed the phone in turn to look curiously at the screen. He tried turning it over, as though that would make the cryptic message make more sense. "Is that the kanji for... what? What's this word, Isumi-san?" He thrust the phone back at Isumi as though he really expected an answer. If Isumi was very lucky, maybe they would just let it go as gibberish. "Waya, you're crazy; he's not red, he's totally white."
"Shindou, you idiot," Waya told him. "You should learn to read. It's something about the New Stars Tournament. I think that word is... hippo?"
"Oh, because that obviously makes SO MUCH SENSE."
Isumi finally recovered his phone at that point and stuffed it back into his bag where it could do no more damage. "It's nothing," he insisted, though his voice wasn't terribly convincing.
"'The hippo isn't good for anything,'" Waya mused. "What hippo?"
"There's no hippo," Isumi told Waya as firmly as he could.
"Of course there's no hippo," Shindou crowed. "Waya can't read, clearly."
"Better than you can," Waya told him with a glare.
Isumi took this opportunity to escape before either of them noticed. Behind him, Waya and Shindou continued to argue.
***
When he called Yang Hai that evening, his friend only laughed. "He's been very excited," Yang Hai said, managing to sound amused over the crackle and static of the cheap international carrier. "He missed you a lot."
That wasn't exactly something Isumi wanted to hear. "He sent me an e-mail today," he admitted at length, wondering how to phrase the next part.
Yang Hai beat him to it. "Uh-oh," he said. "A love confession?"
Isumi nearly dropped his phone. "A what?"
"I was just teasing," Yang Hai said, laughing. "He wouldn't shut up until I'd showed him how to look up your tournament standings, ranking, schedule, and just about everything else. Did you know Googling your name turns up an artist in San Francisco? You need to work harder, Isumi. You aren't as popular as you deserve to be."
Isumi thought perhaps it was for the best that his embarrassment wasn't visible over the phone. "Yang Hai-san," he said, relaxing.
"I'll stop teasing you eventually. That is, when you become old and wizened with experience, like me," Yang Hai said, and Isumi could hear the chuckle. "Did Le Ping say where he was staying?"
"So you do know," Isumi said.
"Oh yes, and I approve. You'll take good care of him, won't you?"
"Yang Hai-san!" Isumi said, shocked. "You can't be serious."
"Why not? He's not a bad kid, appearances aside. Naughty, but we know he listens to what you say. If you're going to let him freeload, though, be aware that you'll lose all the contents of your refrigerator; he's been growing like a weed lately. Remember to save your grocery receipts, okay? I'll do my best, but China's Go Institute won't pay without receipts!" Yang Hai laughed.
That wasn't at all comforting.
They spoke awhile longer about games they had recently played and some Japanese idol that everyone was talking about (according to Yang Hai, anyway; Isumi had never heard of her). When he hung up the phone, Isumi had almost convinced himself that he was overreacting and had obviously misunderstood. He had nearly managed to forget about it when his phone rang again. Waya, said the helpful glowing screen. He flipped open the phone. "Hello?"
"Isumi-san!" Waya sounded downright gleeful, in the sort of maniacal way he and Shindou did sometimes. It generally meant Isumi would soon end up clearing up a mess or a misunderstanding--or buying far too much sushi for anyone's good.
"Yes?" Isumi braced the phone against his shoulder. "Should I sit down? Have you finally managed to get thrown out of Touya-san's Go salon?"
"I didn't even go there today," Waya responded, still sounding far too cheerful for Isumi's peace of mind. "I had dinner with my parents. My father says hello. I borrowed their Chinese dictionary."
So far it sounded absolutely normal, and nothing seemed to warrant the glee. "You seem very cheerful," Isumi said, just before his brain realized what the connection between the glee and a Chinese dictionary was.
There is no reason to panic, Isumi thought, feeling a decided wave of uneasy foreboding anyway. He paused, unsure whether to invite trouble by bringing it up. Perhaps Waya was merely overjoyed at solving some fiendish puzzle in the newspapers. The government had been campaigning for a revival of kanji usage. Perhaps someone had dared Waya, and Waya had proven them wrong. Waya liked winning bets... right?
"That word, Isumi-san!" Waya crowed, dashing his hopes. "I knew I didn't have it right. Just what exactly is your couch not good for, and how in the world does Le Ping know that, you cradle robber?" With the last word, Waya started laughing rather hysterically, clearly no longer able to hold back.
"Waya!" Isumi exclaimed, feeling his face heat and thanking the heavens no one was here to witness this. Think fast, think fast ... "Sleeping, you pervert," Isumi said, quickly. "Or sitting. The bottom's going. Didn't you almost fall through the left side that day?" Waya had indeed nearly fallen through it.
"Uh huh, I'm the pervert," Waya said, finally controlling his laughter, then made his voice high-pitched. "'Isumi, I really like you, so I'm not going to sleep on the couch, which is no good for sleeping or sitting on.' Because that makes all the sense in the world, right up there with the hippo. Should I be hurt that you don't feel like sharing your dirty little secret? I'll forgive you you know. Once I'm done teasing you, which may actually be sometime next century because this is absolutely priceless."
"You've been spending too much time with Shindou," Isumi said firmly, trying his best to ignore his growing mortification. "You also have a faulty memory. There is absolutely nothing of the sort between Le Ping and myself. He's too young for that sort of thing." Perhaps the best defense was a good offense in this case. "Now, if you had said Yang Hai..."
"Yang Hai?" Waya said, momentarily thrown. He regained his stride quickly, however. "Since he'd probably put you in some frilly idol dress, that might be amusing, but he's not the one sending you love letters, so I'm not buying it. And my memory is just fine, and you know it."
"...I would have said the same thing," Isumi continued smoothly as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I apologize if my personal life is so boring you feel the need to spice it up, but you should stop jumping to conclusions, Waya. Le Ping is a child and his Japanese isn't perfect. Misunderstandings happen, and I expected you to know me better." He tried to inject the right amount of affrontedness and humor into his voice.
Waya sighed deeply with clear aggravation. "Oh, Isumi-san, lighten up. Anyone who read that would think the same thing--and anyway, I saw that kid in last year's New Stars Tournament photos and he's probably taller than me at this point. But fine, I see how it is, you don't trust me enough to tell me anything." It was hard to tell over the phone whether Waya was joking or serious. "I'm sure next week will be lots of fun. Maybe you should go buy a couch that is good for... sitting."
"When you win that title, you can buy it for me," Isumi said wearily. "Goodbye, Waya." With that, he hung up, and then took a deep breath. Why couldn't Waya forget things quickly?
Well, by all accounts, at least it sounded like Le Ping was growing up. Perhaps that e-mail was an overenthusiastic mistranslation after all.
***
Isumi would not call the week that followed a harrowing experience. It wasn't exactly traumatic. It was, however, incredibly annoying after the sixth repetition. He'd had to call upon his reserves of patience many times. "I don't see why this is so interesting," Isumi finally said after the thirteenth time Waya nudged Shindou and winked. "Shindou sleeps over at your apartment often, Waya."
The pointed statement behind that couldn't be mistaken. Waya took it in stride though, angling a brief look at Shindou before he replied. "Yeah, well, not lately."
Shindou at least looked uncomfortable. "You can shut up now," he told Waya curtly.
"He's moved on to better things," Waya continued blithely. "Not that his taste isn't a little-"
"Shut up, Waya," Shindou said again and stalked off.
"And this is why I am very glad we are all friends," Waya concluded. "I don't even have to try. You make fun of yourselves."
"That wasn't very polite," Isumi said, watching Shindou leave, concerned. "He asked you to stop." In five minutes, Shindou would probably forget the argument, and they'd be joking and laughing to each other again, but it still felt unnatural to see either Waya or Shindou angry at the other.
"He's a big boy," Waya said, clearly unconcerned. "Besides, everyone's known about Shindou and Touya since they were about thirteen, so it isn't like it's some huge secret."
"Friends respect each other's wishes," Isumi said, hoping Waya would understand Shindou wasn't the only one that applied to.
"What would we do without you to teach us manners?" Waya said. "I'll buy him ramen or something and he'll forget all about it."
As much as he didn't appreciate Waya's tone, that was all too likely, so Isumi let it go.
***
It was all very well telling himself that this was a huge misunderstanding that had been blown way out of proportion by his meddlesome friends, but it was pretty hard to believe it when Le Ping's first action upon his arrival was to attach himself to Isumi's person in a way that was hard to justify as merely friendly.
"Le Ping!" Isumi said, scandalized. He tried to detach Le Ping as discreetly as he could. Le Ping, however, was having none of it. He remained entirely too close for any kind of propriety, grinning brightly. They were nearly eye to eye, which was a little disturbing considering Le Ping's tiny stature the last time they had seen each other.
"Isumi!" Le Ping exclaimed, continuing to ignore Isumi's attempts to free himself. "I so happy to seeing you! You get so short!"
"You grew taller," Isumi said, unable to hide the fondness he felt. It was indeed heart-warming to see Le Ping so much taller. "Have you eaten the Chinese Go Institute out of funds yet?"
"We had to get the food budget reallocated three months into the year," Yang Hai said dryly, giving Isumi a meaningful look. "I'm sure he's happy to see you because you'll feed him more than we did." The smile on Yang Hai's face, however, said he thought there might be more to it than just a growing teenager's belly.
"All right, all right," Isumi said, patting Le Ping awkwardly as Le Ping continued to show no signs of returning Isumi's personal space. "Ramen? Sushi? Or perhaps Chinese food?" He looked over Le Ping's shoulder at Yang Hai, hoping the expression on his face was a clear-enough request for some assistance.
Fortunately, Yang Hai seemed not to be feeling too cruel. "Your Chinese food is a sad imitation," he announced, then grabbed Le Ping by his shirt collar and hauled him off of Isumi. "Let Isumi-kun breathe. If you choke him, no one will buy you sushi."
"Sushi!" Le Ping seemed almost as excited about this prospect as he had about hugging the breath out of Isumi. Apparently, food was a good way of distracting him.
"Your sushi leaves much to be desired too," Isumi said to Yang Hai, trying to take a deep breath of air without being too conspicuous. He eyed Le Ping with some trepidation and wondered whether he would have enough to treat them. Perhaps the cheapest conveyor-belt sushi he could find. There was one in Ikebukuro, and it was unlikely Le Ping's stomach would be able to tell the difference.
"Is that any way to treat your guest?" Yang Hai said, grinning. "It's been a long time since I've had decent sushi. Don't hold back, Isumi."
Isumi sighed. It was going to be a long week.
***
Dinner was all right, except the fact that Isumi's wallet had only a thousand yen left in it by the time it was over. Once they had finished, however, Yang Hai said his farewells and headed towards his hotel, at which point Le Ping attached himself to Isumi again. Clearly, he had only been biding his time until Yang Hai left, and even if he hadn't just stuffed himself ridiculously full, Isumi had no money left to buy more food to distract him with. "I so happy finally be Japan!" Le Ping announced cheerfully, as though he wasn't gripping Isumi's arm and walking far too close for comfort. "Isumi not reply my e-mail, but Yang Hai says you getting it."
"I'm sorry," Isumi said. "I was very busy." Busy avoiding the subject and trying to distract himself from it, but Le Ping didn't need to know that. "It's good to have you." Because that was what one said to guests, even those who invited themselves. "Why couldn't you have stayed with Yang Hai and the other Chinese delegates? I'm sure the hotel they're staying in will be far more comfortable than my couch."
"Very true, couch very uncomfortable," Le Ping agreed. "But I think I telling you I not need to sleeping on couch." He was still grinning, which was more than a little disconcerting considering what he was saying. "Anyway, hotel boring, and Zheng Guo-rong snoring all time, so better to staying with Isumi!"
"I thought that might be the case," Isumi said, smiling. "It's a good thing my mother wasn't using her spare futon. I'll show you how to lay it out. We'll have to put it away during the day, but it takes less than half a minute." He thanked the heavens his mother hadn't asked too many questions when he'd borrowed it.
Le Ping looked somewhere between confused and hurt. "Isumi not like me?"
Please let him have made a mistake in translation, Isumi thought to himself as he winced. "Le Ping," Isumi said, "We use suki when we say we like things, but with people, suki means something else. I'm sure you don't mean that. Of course I enjoy your company. I wouldn't have agreed to your staying overnight if I didn't."
The confused look was not going away. Le Ping blinked. "But Isumi," he said, "I knowing exactly what it mean. Maybe my Japanese... messy, like Yang Hai say, but I understanding fine. Maybe you the one not understand?"
"You're fifteen," Isumi said, busying himself with the key to his apartment. "Perhaps you should focus on your go. Once you leave the junior leagues, you won't have a chance if you don't. It's late, so why don't we prepare the futons? You can lay yours next to mine." He hoped this would appease the other. Perhaps it was hero worship. That might be it. Young boys tended to look up to role models. Yang Hai was a role model, but perhaps too prone to lecturing Le Ping. One didn't tend to choose role models that lectured. Isumi was sure there were other more deserving candidates out there, but if Le Ping was going to fixate on him for a role model, Isumi had to set a good example.
One that did NOT include underage molestation.
"Come on," Isumi said, turning on the light and stepping out of his shoes. "The futons are right here. I'll let you choose yours."
Le Ping was strangely quiet as Isumi pulled out and prepared the futons. There wasn't a word between them; only the scratching sliding sounds of the closet doors and the soft thump of futons hitting floorboards. Isumi wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried at the silence. Le Ping didn't move to help, and didn't look at all interested, either. The air felt a little heavy to Isumi, and he swallowed. "Why don't you use the bathroom first, Le Ping?" Isumi said. It was too small for two, anyway. "It's that door over there."
Le Ping went docilely and returned in pajamas that looked a little too short. He really had been growing. In those too-short pajamas, Le Ping looked even younger. Isumi tried not to chuckle--it might hurt Le Ping's feelings. "Here," he said, pulling out pillows and blankets. "Choose your favorite ones. It's my turn in the bathroom, okay?"
Isumi would normally not have bothered with changing in the bathroom, but somehow the thought of taking his shirt off in front of Le Ping made his cheeks feel warm. You're just being silly, he scolded himself, splashing cold water on his face. You hero-worshipped when you were his age, too. Then again, the Meijin had not been the subject of a crush for Isumi. The man was just a little too intimidating. Certainly not a word often applied to you, Isumi Shinichirou. If ever.
When he finished brushing his teeth and exited the bathroom, Isumi saw Le Ping already curled up under a blanket on one of the futons. Isumi smiled. Perhaps Le Ping was just adjusting. All that energy expended at the airport, sushi restaurant, even on the way here ... he must have been trying to get used to being in Japan, in his own way. Quietly, Isumi turned off all the lights, and then navigated by moonlight to the other futon. He slid in under the blankets carefully, hoping he wouldn't make too much noise.
"Good night," he said, smiling into the dark.
"Good night, Isumi," Le Ping replied in a deceptively sleepy voice. But he was still awake when Isumi's breathing had turned deep and regular. Then he rolled over, hugged Isumi around the waist, wiggled closer to get comfortable, and fell asleep smiling.
Next chapter
Authors: aiwritingfic and chaineddove
Characters: Le Ping/Isumi, Hikaru, Waya, Yang Hai
Wordcount/Rating: 3550+ words / gen
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: Isumi is stuck with the notion that Le Ping is a kid. Le Ping, unfortunately, has other ideas.
Author's Notes: Dedicated to viridian_magpie's foot.
Isumi's phone vibrated, a low but steady buzzing sound coming from his bag just as he opened a locker to put his things away. It cut off after two seconds, which meant it was either an e-mail, or the person had dialed the wrong number.
Who could that be? Isumi wondered. Waya liked to message before important matches, but Waya was right here beside him, stuffing bag and bento into the locker two rows down and three across. Maybe it was Shindou, but Shindou never bothered to message when he could call. And besides, Isumi was playing Waya. Shindou tended not to pick sides between friends.
Motioning to Waya to go on ahead and get ready, Isumi unzipped the front pocket and pulled out his phone. Flipping it open, he looked at the screen. 1 new e-mail, it said. Isumi opened it.
Dear Isumi,
Congratulations on victory from Kadowaki. Yang Hai shows me how to looking you up on the internet after I yelling him. It's great! Now I know your playing all the time! Isumi will win the title from creepy old man this year! Party! By the way, I will coming Japan at next week for New Stars Tournament again. I stay with you? I really like you, so don't waste time with couch for me, since it's lumpy anyway and not good for sleeping or other things. See you soon!
Le Ping
It took a moment to decipher, because Mandarin just didn't always translate well to kanji, whatever some people thought. When he finally got the gist of it, Isumi's eyes widened at the last two sentences just before he found himself staring at his palm as the phone was unceremoniously snatched from his hands.
"What's this, Isumi-san? You're red. Whoa." Waya's eyes nearly crossed looking at the e-mail. "Is this even Japanese?"
Isumi felt the color draining out of his face as Waya squinted at the screen. Unlike Shindou, he wasn't sure how well Waya knew his kanji, since Waya's grades in school had been decent. If he tried to get the phone back, though, Waya would most definitely know something was wrong. "It's Chinese," he said. Perhaps full disclosure would convince Waya there was nothing of interest in that e-mail.
"Gimme!" Shindou came up behind Waya and grabbed the phone in turn to look curiously at the screen. He tried turning it over, as though that would make the cryptic message make more sense. "Is that the kanji for... what? What's this word, Isumi-san?" He thrust the phone back at Isumi as though he really expected an answer. If Isumi was very lucky, maybe they would just let it go as gibberish. "Waya, you're crazy; he's not red, he's totally white."
"Shindou, you idiot," Waya told him. "You should learn to read. It's something about the New Stars Tournament. I think that word is... hippo?"
"Oh, because that obviously makes SO MUCH SENSE."
Isumi finally recovered his phone at that point and stuffed it back into his bag where it could do no more damage. "It's nothing," he insisted, though his voice wasn't terribly convincing.
"'The hippo isn't good for anything,'" Waya mused. "What hippo?"
"There's no hippo," Isumi told Waya as firmly as he could.
"Of course there's no hippo," Shindou crowed. "Waya can't read, clearly."
"Better than you can," Waya told him with a glare.
Isumi took this opportunity to escape before either of them noticed. Behind him, Waya and Shindou continued to argue.
***
When he called Yang Hai that evening, his friend only laughed. "He's been very excited," Yang Hai said, managing to sound amused over the crackle and static of the cheap international carrier. "He missed you a lot."
That wasn't exactly something Isumi wanted to hear. "He sent me an e-mail today," he admitted at length, wondering how to phrase the next part.
Yang Hai beat him to it. "Uh-oh," he said. "A love confession?"
Isumi nearly dropped his phone. "A what?"
"I was just teasing," Yang Hai said, laughing. "He wouldn't shut up until I'd showed him how to look up your tournament standings, ranking, schedule, and just about everything else. Did you know Googling your name turns up an artist in San Francisco? You need to work harder, Isumi. You aren't as popular as you deserve to be."
Isumi thought perhaps it was for the best that his embarrassment wasn't visible over the phone. "Yang Hai-san," he said, relaxing.
"I'll stop teasing you eventually. That is, when you become old and wizened with experience, like me," Yang Hai said, and Isumi could hear the chuckle. "Did Le Ping say where he was staying?"
"So you do know," Isumi said.
"Oh yes, and I approve. You'll take good care of him, won't you?"
"Yang Hai-san!" Isumi said, shocked. "You can't be serious."
"Why not? He's not a bad kid, appearances aside. Naughty, but we know he listens to what you say. If you're going to let him freeload, though, be aware that you'll lose all the contents of your refrigerator; he's been growing like a weed lately. Remember to save your grocery receipts, okay? I'll do my best, but China's Go Institute won't pay without receipts!" Yang Hai laughed.
That wasn't at all comforting.
They spoke awhile longer about games they had recently played and some Japanese idol that everyone was talking about (according to Yang Hai, anyway; Isumi had never heard of her). When he hung up the phone, Isumi had almost convinced himself that he was overreacting and had obviously misunderstood. He had nearly managed to forget about it when his phone rang again. Waya, said the helpful glowing screen. He flipped open the phone. "Hello?"
"Isumi-san!" Waya sounded downright gleeful, in the sort of maniacal way he and Shindou did sometimes. It generally meant Isumi would soon end up clearing up a mess or a misunderstanding--or buying far too much sushi for anyone's good.
"Yes?" Isumi braced the phone against his shoulder. "Should I sit down? Have you finally managed to get thrown out of Touya-san's Go salon?"
"I didn't even go there today," Waya responded, still sounding far too cheerful for Isumi's peace of mind. "I had dinner with my parents. My father says hello. I borrowed their Chinese dictionary."
So far it sounded absolutely normal, and nothing seemed to warrant the glee. "You seem very cheerful," Isumi said, just before his brain realized what the connection between the glee and a Chinese dictionary was.
There is no reason to panic, Isumi thought, feeling a decided wave of uneasy foreboding anyway. He paused, unsure whether to invite trouble by bringing it up. Perhaps Waya was merely overjoyed at solving some fiendish puzzle in the newspapers. The government had been campaigning for a revival of kanji usage. Perhaps someone had dared Waya, and Waya had proven them wrong. Waya liked winning bets... right?
"That word, Isumi-san!" Waya crowed, dashing his hopes. "I knew I didn't have it right. Just what exactly is your couch not good for, and how in the world does Le Ping know that, you cradle robber?" With the last word, Waya started laughing rather hysterically, clearly no longer able to hold back.
"Waya!" Isumi exclaimed, feeling his face heat and thanking the heavens no one was here to witness this. Think fast, think fast ... "Sleeping, you pervert," Isumi said, quickly. "Or sitting. The bottom's going. Didn't you almost fall through the left side that day?" Waya had indeed nearly fallen through it.
"Uh huh, I'm the pervert," Waya said, finally controlling his laughter, then made his voice high-pitched. "'Isumi, I really like you, so I'm not going to sleep on the couch, which is no good for sleeping or sitting on.' Because that makes all the sense in the world, right up there with the hippo. Should I be hurt that you don't feel like sharing your dirty little secret? I'll forgive you you know. Once I'm done teasing you, which may actually be sometime next century because this is absolutely priceless."
"You've been spending too much time with Shindou," Isumi said firmly, trying his best to ignore his growing mortification. "You also have a faulty memory. There is absolutely nothing of the sort between Le Ping and myself. He's too young for that sort of thing." Perhaps the best defense was a good offense in this case. "Now, if you had said Yang Hai..."
"Yang Hai?" Waya said, momentarily thrown. He regained his stride quickly, however. "Since he'd probably put you in some frilly idol dress, that might be amusing, but he's not the one sending you love letters, so I'm not buying it. And my memory is just fine, and you know it."
"...I would have said the same thing," Isumi continued smoothly as if he hadn't been interrupted. "I apologize if my personal life is so boring you feel the need to spice it up, but you should stop jumping to conclusions, Waya. Le Ping is a child and his Japanese isn't perfect. Misunderstandings happen, and I expected you to know me better." He tried to inject the right amount of affrontedness and humor into his voice.
Waya sighed deeply with clear aggravation. "Oh, Isumi-san, lighten up. Anyone who read that would think the same thing--and anyway, I saw that kid in last year's New Stars Tournament photos and he's probably taller than me at this point. But fine, I see how it is, you don't trust me enough to tell me anything." It was hard to tell over the phone whether Waya was joking or serious. "I'm sure next week will be lots of fun. Maybe you should go buy a couch that is good for... sitting."
"When you win that title, you can buy it for me," Isumi said wearily. "Goodbye, Waya." With that, he hung up, and then took a deep breath. Why couldn't Waya forget things quickly?
Well, by all accounts, at least it sounded like Le Ping was growing up. Perhaps that e-mail was an overenthusiastic mistranslation after all.
***
Isumi would not call the week that followed a harrowing experience. It wasn't exactly traumatic. It was, however, incredibly annoying after the sixth repetition. He'd had to call upon his reserves of patience many times. "I don't see why this is so interesting," Isumi finally said after the thirteenth time Waya nudged Shindou and winked. "Shindou sleeps over at your apartment often, Waya."
The pointed statement behind that couldn't be mistaken. Waya took it in stride though, angling a brief look at Shindou before he replied. "Yeah, well, not lately."
Shindou at least looked uncomfortable. "You can shut up now," he told Waya curtly.
"He's moved on to better things," Waya continued blithely. "Not that his taste isn't a little-"
"Shut up, Waya," Shindou said again and stalked off.
"And this is why I am very glad we are all friends," Waya concluded. "I don't even have to try. You make fun of yourselves."
"That wasn't very polite," Isumi said, watching Shindou leave, concerned. "He asked you to stop." In five minutes, Shindou would probably forget the argument, and they'd be joking and laughing to each other again, but it still felt unnatural to see either Waya or Shindou angry at the other.
"He's a big boy," Waya said, clearly unconcerned. "Besides, everyone's known about Shindou and Touya since they were about thirteen, so it isn't like it's some huge secret."
"Friends respect each other's wishes," Isumi said, hoping Waya would understand Shindou wasn't the only one that applied to.
"What would we do without you to teach us manners?" Waya said. "I'll buy him ramen or something and he'll forget all about it."
As much as he didn't appreciate Waya's tone, that was all too likely, so Isumi let it go.
***
It was all very well telling himself that this was a huge misunderstanding that had been blown way out of proportion by his meddlesome friends, but it was pretty hard to believe it when Le Ping's first action upon his arrival was to attach himself to Isumi's person in a way that was hard to justify as merely friendly.
"Le Ping!" Isumi said, scandalized. He tried to detach Le Ping as discreetly as he could. Le Ping, however, was having none of it. He remained entirely too close for any kind of propriety, grinning brightly. They were nearly eye to eye, which was a little disturbing considering Le Ping's tiny stature the last time they had seen each other.
"Isumi!" Le Ping exclaimed, continuing to ignore Isumi's attempts to free himself. "I so happy to seeing you! You get so short!"
"You grew taller," Isumi said, unable to hide the fondness he felt. It was indeed heart-warming to see Le Ping so much taller. "Have you eaten the Chinese Go Institute out of funds yet?"
"We had to get the food budget reallocated three months into the year," Yang Hai said dryly, giving Isumi a meaningful look. "I'm sure he's happy to see you because you'll feed him more than we did." The smile on Yang Hai's face, however, said he thought there might be more to it than just a growing teenager's belly.
"All right, all right," Isumi said, patting Le Ping awkwardly as Le Ping continued to show no signs of returning Isumi's personal space. "Ramen? Sushi? Or perhaps Chinese food?" He looked over Le Ping's shoulder at Yang Hai, hoping the expression on his face was a clear-enough request for some assistance.
Fortunately, Yang Hai seemed not to be feeling too cruel. "Your Chinese food is a sad imitation," he announced, then grabbed Le Ping by his shirt collar and hauled him off of Isumi. "Let Isumi-kun breathe. If you choke him, no one will buy you sushi."
"Sushi!" Le Ping seemed almost as excited about this prospect as he had about hugging the breath out of Isumi. Apparently, food was a good way of distracting him.
"Your sushi leaves much to be desired too," Isumi said to Yang Hai, trying to take a deep breath of air without being too conspicuous. He eyed Le Ping with some trepidation and wondered whether he would have enough to treat them. Perhaps the cheapest conveyor-belt sushi he could find. There was one in Ikebukuro, and it was unlikely Le Ping's stomach would be able to tell the difference.
"Is that any way to treat your guest?" Yang Hai said, grinning. "It's been a long time since I've had decent sushi. Don't hold back, Isumi."
Isumi sighed. It was going to be a long week.
***
Dinner was all right, except the fact that Isumi's wallet had only a thousand yen left in it by the time it was over. Once they had finished, however, Yang Hai said his farewells and headed towards his hotel, at which point Le Ping attached himself to Isumi again. Clearly, he had only been biding his time until Yang Hai left, and even if he hadn't just stuffed himself ridiculously full, Isumi had no money left to buy more food to distract him with. "I so happy finally be Japan!" Le Ping announced cheerfully, as though he wasn't gripping Isumi's arm and walking far too close for comfort. "Isumi not reply my e-mail, but Yang Hai says you getting it."
"I'm sorry," Isumi said. "I was very busy." Busy avoiding the subject and trying to distract himself from it, but Le Ping didn't need to know that. "It's good to have you." Because that was what one said to guests, even those who invited themselves. "Why couldn't you have stayed with Yang Hai and the other Chinese delegates? I'm sure the hotel they're staying in will be far more comfortable than my couch."
"Very true, couch very uncomfortable," Le Ping agreed. "But I think I telling you I not need to sleeping on couch." He was still grinning, which was more than a little disconcerting considering what he was saying. "Anyway, hotel boring, and Zheng Guo-rong snoring all time, so better to staying with Isumi!"
"I thought that might be the case," Isumi said, smiling. "It's a good thing my mother wasn't using her spare futon. I'll show you how to lay it out. We'll have to put it away during the day, but it takes less than half a minute." He thanked the heavens his mother hadn't asked too many questions when he'd borrowed it.
Le Ping looked somewhere between confused and hurt. "Isumi not like me?"
Please let him have made a mistake in translation, Isumi thought to himself as he winced. "Le Ping," Isumi said, "We use suki when we say we like things, but with people, suki means something else. I'm sure you don't mean that. Of course I enjoy your company. I wouldn't have agreed to your staying overnight if I didn't."
The confused look was not going away. Le Ping blinked. "But Isumi," he said, "I knowing exactly what it mean. Maybe my Japanese... messy, like Yang Hai say, but I understanding fine. Maybe you the one not understand?"
"You're fifteen," Isumi said, busying himself with the key to his apartment. "Perhaps you should focus on your go. Once you leave the junior leagues, you won't have a chance if you don't. It's late, so why don't we prepare the futons? You can lay yours next to mine." He hoped this would appease the other. Perhaps it was hero worship. That might be it. Young boys tended to look up to role models. Yang Hai was a role model, but perhaps too prone to lecturing Le Ping. One didn't tend to choose role models that lectured. Isumi was sure there were other more deserving candidates out there, but if Le Ping was going to fixate on him for a role model, Isumi had to set a good example.
One that did NOT include underage molestation.
"Come on," Isumi said, turning on the light and stepping out of his shoes. "The futons are right here. I'll let you choose yours."
Le Ping was strangely quiet as Isumi pulled out and prepared the futons. There wasn't a word between them; only the scratching sliding sounds of the closet doors and the soft thump of futons hitting floorboards. Isumi wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or worried at the silence. Le Ping didn't move to help, and didn't look at all interested, either. The air felt a little heavy to Isumi, and he swallowed. "Why don't you use the bathroom first, Le Ping?" Isumi said. It was too small for two, anyway. "It's that door over there."
Le Ping went docilely and returned in pajamas that looked a little too short. He really had been growing. In those too-short pajamas, Le Ping looked even younger. Isumi tried not to chuckle--it might hurt Le Ping's feelings. "Here," he said, pulling out pillows and blankets. "Choose your favorite ones. It's my turn in the bathroom, okay?"
Isumi would normally not have bothered with changing in the bathroom, but somehow the thought of taking his shirt off in front of Le Ping made his cheeks feel warm. You're just being silly, he scolded himself, splashing cold water on his face. You hero-worshipped when you were his age, too. Then again, the Meijin had not been the subject of a crush for Isumi. The man was just a little too intimidating. Certainly not a word often applied to you, Isumi Shinichirou. If ever.
When he finished brushing his teeth and exited the bathroom, Isumi saw Le Ping already curled up under a blanket on one of the futons. Isumi smiled. Perhaps Le Ping was just adjusting. All that energy expended at the airport, sushi restaurant, even on the way here ... he must have been trying to get used to being in Japan, in his own way. Quietly, Isumi turned off all the lights, and then navigated by moonlight to the other futon. He slid in under the blankets carefully, hoping he wouldn't make too much noise.
"Good night," he said, smiling into the dark.
"Good night, Isumi," Le Ping replied in a deceptively sleepy voice. But he was still awake when Isumi's breathing had turned deep and regular. Then he rolled over, hugged Isumi around the waist, wiggled closer to get comfortable, and fell asleep smiling.
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