(no subject)
Title: Chess
Author: Cael
Rating: G
Genre: general
Pairing/Characters: Yukimura and Yanagi
Short Summary/Comments: A game of chess.
Forty-eight squares in all, black and white alternating, twenty-four of each. He'd counted them twice already during the lulls. It was somehow more relaxing than watching the seconds tick by on the clock to his right. Black and white, white and black, shades and tints instead of true colors, and both seeming to blend before his eyes to a steady shade of gray. He shook his head to clear it and the world coalesced back to the alternating squares. He had to keep his wits about him or all would be lost.
His fingers reached out and delicately brushed over a knight's head. Was this the best move? Two squares up and one over and the second he lifted his hand from the smoothly carved wood he would be in position to take his opponent's last remaining pawn and clear the path to the enemy king. It was still four moves away, but the possibility existed. He had to trust himself.
When his hands were free again he moved his eyes back up to his opponent, ignoring the board for the first time in nearly half an hour. He blinked and found the boy across from him watching him intently, seemingly ignoring the flow of the game and the knight's new position. The pale pink lips curled into a soft smile, misleading to most, but familiar enough that something inside of him shivered and he had to fight to keep the tremor from reaching the surface. Show no fear. His eyes flicked back to the board, convinced that he had missed something.
Scanning, scanning...there. At the far end of the board, in the left-hand corner was a rook. It had a clear shot to the king, something he'd not seen before when his eyes were clouded with his own thoughts and pieces. He had viewed it warily earlier, but when his opponent failed to move it from its original location, well, he'd gotten sloppy. It was almost over.
A low, delighted chuckle reached his ears and slender fingers shifted the pieces. The white king moved two places to its left, the rook was suddenly in the square it had just passed through. Castling. The one time in the game where two pieces of the same color can be moved during the same move. His mind had failed to calculate that probability.
His eyes swept the board. He could still take the pawn, but it would have no meaning now. His queen would be gone in three moves, his king destroyed in six. With a sigh he tipped the monarch over, watched it roll briefly from side to side on the smooth surface of the board and then stop. He could hear the clock ticking now.
Why did he subject himself to this? He had never yet actually won a game against his opponent, but every week, every Sunday precisely at three, he would open the board and begin to set up the pieces, his fingers now moving automatically and the gentle clicks of wood against wood were familiar to his ears. This week he'd been black, next week he would be white. It was becoming a tradition, somehow.
"That was a good game," Yukimura said cheerfully as he finished latching the case shut.
Yanagi looked up into his captain's eyes, saw them sparkling with amusement and life and his lips turned up in an answering smile. Ah yes, that was precisely the reason he would continue to play this game he could never win. Yukimura's happiness was well worth the occasional defeat.
Author: Cael
Rating: G
Genre: general
Pairing/Characters: Yukimura and Yanagi
Short Summary/Comments: A game of chess.
Forty-eight squares in all, black and white alternating, twenty-four of each. He'd counted them twice already during the lulls. It was somehow more relaxing than watching the seconds tick by on the clock to his right. Black and white, white and black, shades and tints instead of true colors, and both seeming to blend before his eyes to a steady shade of gray. He shook his head to clear it and the world coalesced back to the alternating squares. He had to keep his wits about him or all would be lost.
His fingers reached out and delicately brushed over a knight's head. Was this the best move? Two squares up and one over and the second he lifted his hand from the smoothly carved wood he would be in position to take his opponent's last remaining pawn and clear the path to the enemy king. It was still four moves away, but the possibility existed. He had to trust himself.
When his hands were free again he moved his eyes back up to his opponent, ignoring the board for the first time in nearly half an hour. He blinked and found the boy across from him watching him intently, seemingly ignoring the flow of the game and the knight's new position. The pale pink lips curled into a soft smile, misleading to most, but familiar enough that something inside of him shivered and he had to fight to keep the tremor from reaching the surface. Show no fear. His eyes flicked back to the board, convinced that he had missed something.
Scanning, scanning...there. At the far end of the board, in the left-hand corner was a rook. It had a clear shot to the king, something he'd not seen before when his eyes were clouded with his own thoughts and pieces. He had viewed it warily earlier, but when his opponent failed to move it from its original location, well, he'd gotten sloppy. It was almost over.
A low, delighted chuckle reached his ears and slender fingers shifted the pieces. The white king moved two places to its left, the rook was suddenly in the square it had just passed through. Castling. The one time in the game where two pieces of the same color can be moved during the same move. His mind had failed to calculate that probability.
His eyes swept the board. He could still take the pawn, but it would have no meaning now. His queen would be gone in three moves, his king destroyed in six. With a sigh he tipped the monarch over, watched it roll briefly from side to side on the smooth surface of the board and then stop. He could hear the clock ticking now.
Why did he subject himself to this? He had never yet actually won a game against his opponent, but every week, every Sunday precisely at three, he would open the board and begin to set up the pieces, his fingers now moving automatically and the gentle clicks of wood against wood were familiar to his ears. This week he'd been black, next week he would be white. It was becoming a tradition, somehow.
"That was a good game," Yukimura said cheerfully as he finished latching the case shut.
Yanagi looked up into his captain's eyes, saw them sparkling with amusement and life and his lips turned up in an answering smile. Ah yes, that was precisely the reason he would continue to play this game he could never win. Yukimura's happiness was well worth the occasional defeat.