[HnG/PoT] All Manner of Suspicions (PG)
Title: All Manner of Suspicions (sequel to Kids These Days)
Author: Kimmie
Fandom: Hikaru no Go/Prince of Tennis
Pairing: sort-of Ogata/Tezuka
Type: gen/shonen ai
Rating: PG
Notes: I can't believe you people... encouraging this! I had to hand-write a page of it before my mind would shut off enough to let me go to bed last night. ;_; And then I woke up at 6am to write more! I'm blaming all of you now, but here's the next part anyway. And, um, yeah. There will be more. >_<
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Tezuka double-checked his schedule before confirming the appointment. He didn't normally give lessons on Saturdays, but Ogata was... interesting. When they'd first had a lesson, Tezuka hadn't figured on ever seeing the older man again. After all, he'd told him that he was too out-of-shape to play and had made him run laps. He must have been a masochist, though, because he was back the next week, and then the week after that.
After a month, there was a noticeable change in the man. He seemed more refreshed than discouraged after their lessons. There was less of him around the waist and a bit more in the calves.
Ogata had asked him out for a drink before - at that horrible first lesson - and Tezuka had dropped the bombshell of his age. It had taken Ogata less time than most adults to get used to the idea that Tezuka was still in high school. He appreciated it more than he even thought he could, but it was something that hardly ever happened. Even his parents treated him like he was already a salaryman. Oh, they were still good parents, but even his mother sometimes confused him for an idol walking down the streets if she wasn't paying attention. Because of that, he hadn't been allowed in the more fashionable areas of Tokyo by himself since that one incident when he was thirteen and going shopping for new tennis clothes. When he showed up at home with a lavender shirt, lipstick all over his face, and business cards from all manner of host clubs and talent agencies, his mother imposed the new rule, and encouraged the new shirt.
It was strange to get along with someone as well as he got along with Ogata, at least for Tezuka. He tended to be something of a loner, but that didn't stop him from being part of the tennis team. He got along wih them well enough, though he couldn't really be open with them. Yet, he'd already talked with Ogata twice about having a bad day, and once about how he wasn't certain about his future. The older man voiced his opinions on the matters with a hint of experience caught in the rasp of his smoke-tinged voice, and they were things Tezuka could agree with, though he'd been foolish enough not to think so at first. Ogata didn't even have as much education as Ryoma did, Tezuka was sure, but he made up for it by knowing about life, and about his profession.
Tezuka wasn't a go player. He'd played in the past with his father and grandfather, but he preferred to be outdoors. His father was a definite enthusiast, though, and when Tezuka had mentioned Ogata in passing at the dinner table, he found himself inundated with questions about the man - not to mention the request of an autograph.
When Saturday came, Tezuka slid on the new tennis shirt his mother had bought for him a few days ago. It was lavender, and much like his old one, and seemed to make his hair shine like some spice instead of just hair. He ruffled his hair and slid his glasses on, then slid on socks and tennis shoes. He tied them tight and grabbed his wallet, keys, and his tennis bag. Just in case, he grabbed a novel to read. He could normally withstand the train ride without encountering too much boredom, but there were no guarantees.
Somehow, today of all days, he needed the book. One of the other trains had shut down on the track and they were stuck together for a while in that small compartment. It annoyed Tezuka. He gave up his seat to a woman with a briefcase and stood near the window. He buried himself in his book until they started moving again, and glared at his watch when he checked the time. He was going to be late. He'd left the house 20 minutes early to help prevent such an event, but it seemed he couldn't escape it. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. He dialed Ogata's number and waited for it to pick up.
"Hello?"
He cleared his throat and clutched at his book. "Hello, Ogata. This is Tezuka. I'm running a little late. There's a problem with the trains, though they're expecting it to clear up in a moment."
"The court's still a 10 minute walk from the nearest station. Did you want me to come pick you up?"
Tezuka weighed the thought of inconveniencing Ogata by having him drive against having him wait. "If you're willing, I would certainly appreciate it."
"Then I'll be there." Ogata ended the connection.
A few minutes later, he was sitting inside of a little red sport car that screamed opulence. He hadn't known that Ogata was that well off. Then again, he had no realm of comparison when it came to go professionals. He knew next to nothing about it. It was perhaps that, or the thought of his father's joy, that made him say the next words. "After we play today, would you like to come to my house to teach me go?"
There was silence for a moment. Tezuka looked up at Ogata while clutching his bag, and released his tense fingers when he saw the smirk on the older man's face. Tezuka suddenly felt that he was being treated like someone the age he was instead of the age he looked. He reached out a hand and lightly punched Ogata's shoulder. "If you don't want to, we don't have to."
Ogata pulled up to the tennis courts and parked. "If you're willing, I'm able." He got out of the car and grabbed his bag from the trunk. "Besides, it would be an honor to teach you. I've every reason to believe you'll make as wonderful a student as you do a teacher."
Tezuka turned away and made a point of checking the strings on his racquet for wear. His face felt warmer than usual in the afternoon sun, and he honestly didn't know how to feel.
After they'd warmed up, and played something of a mini-game, and practiced lobs and volleys and serves for a while, Tezuka called an end to the lesson and called his mother. "I'm bringing over Ogata for a go lesson. Is father home?"
Ogata didn't appear to pay any attention to his words after that, and even seemed distracted when Tezuka mentioned that they could both shower at Tezuka's place. They were something of a size now, too, so Ogata was free to borrow a change of clothes if he didn't happen to have a set on him. Ogata shut the trunk of his car quickly and urged Tezuka into the passenger seat. A moment later, they were off.
Tezuka had something of a hard time navigating from the court to his home by following the roads. He normally took the train, and had done so for years. He found his way, though, and felt relieved with Ogata pulled into the driveway. That little red car looked strange in front of his house, but he grabbed his things and forged ahead anyway. "You do have a goban, right?"
With a nod, Tezuka led the way inside. "My father is a fan of go. He isn't all that good, nor is my grandfather who taught him, but he's passionate about it nonetheless."
They took turns in the shower, and met up downstairs in the living room where his father's goban was. Ogata was already laying out handicap stones for Tezuka. "I figured we'd play a game first so that I can test your ability. After that, we'll see how much I need to teach you."
Grabbing a stone, Tezuka suddenly halted. "How much do I owe you for the lessons, then?"
Smirking, Ogata trailed his fingers through the white stones in his goke. "Consider it a favor for putting up with an old man like me."
Placing his first stone, Tezuka shook his head. "You're nowhere close to an old man, Ogata, but I won't push. You're obviously not hard-up for money."
"As the current title-holder for several of the tournaments? No, not hard-up at all."
When Tezuka's father had come home later in the day, he'd practically danced at meeting Ogata, and almost swooned when Ogata offered to play a game against him. It was as much a slaughter as Ogata's first match against Tezuka, but they both appeared to be having fun anyway.
The next time Tezuka looked outside, it was nearly dark. He mentioned this to Ogata, and asked if the man would like to stay for dinner. Ogata turned him down, but promised to see him later on in the week. They shook hands and said their goodbyes.
Tezuka went to brush his teeth before bed and saw that Ogata's used towel was half-falling from the hamper. He picked it up and pushed it back in, but not before noticing that it smelled like the older man. His hand lingered on it, and perhaps brushed his teeth twice as hard as usual. His gums were then sore when he lay down for bed and he ran his tongue over them repeatedly and thought of tennis and go and his book from earlier. He did not let his thoughts stray.
Author: Kimmie
Fandom: Hikaru no Go/Prince of Tennis
Pairing: sort-of Ogata/Tezuka
Type: gen/shonen ai
Rating: PG
Notes: I can't believe you people... encouraging this! I had to hand-write a page of it before my mind would shut off enough to let me go to bed last night. ;_; And then I woke up at 6am to write more! I'm blaming all of you now, but here's the next part anyway. And, um, yeah. There will be more. >_<
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Tezuka double-checked his schedule before confirming the appointment. He didn't normally give lessons on Saturdays, but Ogata was... interesting. When they'd first had a lesson, Tezuka hadn't figured on ever seeing the older man again. After all, he'd told him that he was too out-of-shape to play and had made him run laps. He must have been a masochist, though, because he was back the next week, and then the week after that.
After a month, there was a noticeable change in the man. He seemed more refreshed than discouraged after their lessons. There was less of him around the waist and a bit more in the calves.
Ogata had asked him out for a drink before - at that horrible first lesson - and Tezuka had dropped the bombshell of his age. It had taken Ogata less time than most adults to get used to the idea that Tezuka was still in high school. He appreciated it more than he even thought he could, but it was something that hardly ever happened. Even his parents treated him like he was already a salaryman. Oh, they were still good parents, but even his mother sometimes confused him for an idol walking down the streets if she wasn't paying attention. Because of that, he hadn't been allowed in the more fashionable areas of Tokyo by himself since that one incident when he was thirteen and going shopping for new tennis clothes. When he showed up at home with a lavender shirt, lipstick all over his face, and business cards from all manner of host clubs and talent agencies, his mother imposed the new rule, and encouraged the new shirt.
It was strange to get along with someone as well as he got along with Ogata, at least for Tezuka. He tended to be something of a loner, but that didn't stop him from being part of the tennis team. He got along wih them well enough, though he couldn't really be open with them. Yet, he'd already talked with Ogata twice about having a bad day, and once about how he wasn't certain about his future. The older man voiced his opinions on the matters with a hint of experience caught in the rasp of his smoke-tinged voice, and they were things Tezuka could agree with, though he'd been foolish enough not to think so at first. Ogata didn't even have as much education as Ryoma did, Tezuka was sure, but he made up for it by knowing about life, and about his profession.
Tezuka wasn't a go player. He'd played in the past with his father and grandfather, but he preferred to be outdoors. His father was a definite enthusiast, though, and when Tezuka had mentioned Ogata in passing at the dinner table, he found himself inundated with questions about the man - not to mention the request of an autograph.
When Saturday came, Tezuka slid on the new tennis shirt his mother had bought for him a few days ago. It was lavender, and much like his old one, and seemed to make his hair shine like some spice instead of just hair. He ruffled his hair and slid his glasses on, then slid on socks and tennis shoes. He tied them tight and grabbed his wallet, keys, and his tennis bag. Just in case, he grabbed a novel to read. He could normally withstand the train ride without encountering too much boredom, but there were no guarantees.
Somehow, today of all days, he needed the book. One of the other trains had shut down on the track and they were stuck together for a while in that small compartment. It annoyed Tezuka. He gave up his seat to a woman with a briefcase and stood near the window. He buried himself in his book until they started moving again, and glared at his watch when he checked the time. He was going to be late. He'd left the house 20 minutes early to help prevent such an event, but it seemed he couldn't escape it. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. He dialed Ogata's number and waited for it to pick up.
"Hello?"
He cleared his throat and clutched at his book. "Hello, Ogata. This is Tezuka. I'm running a little late. There's a problem with the trains, though they're expecting it to clear up in a moment."
"The court's still a 10 minute walk from the nearest station. Did you want me to come pick you up?"
Tezuka weighed the thought of inconveniencing Ogata by having him drive against having him wait. "If you're willing, I would certainly appreciate it."
"Then I'll be there." Ogata ended the connection.
A few minutes later, he was sitting inside of a little red sport car that screamed opulence. He hadn't known that Ogata was that well off. Then again, he had no realm of comparison when it came to go professionals. He knew next to nothing about it. It was perhaps that, or the thought of his father's joy, that made him say the next words. "After we play today, would you like to come to my house to teach me go?"
There was silence for a moment. Tezuka looked up at Ogata while clutching his bag, and released his tense fingers when he saw the smirk on the older man's face. Tezuka suddenly felt that he was being treated like someone the age he was instead of the age he looked. He reached out a hand and lightly punched Ogata's shoulder. "If you don't want to, we don't have to."
Ogata pulled up to the tennis courts and parked. "If you're willing, I'm able." He got out of the car and grabbed his bag from the trunk. "Besides, it would be an honor to teach you. I've every reason to believe you'll make as wonderful a student as you do a teacher."
Tezuka turned away and made a point of checking the strings on his racquet for wear. His face felt warmer than usual in the afternoon sun, and he honestly didn't know how to feel.
After they'd warmed up, and played something of a mini-game, and practiced lobs and volleys and serves for a while, Tezuka called an end to the lesson and called his mother. "I'm bringing over Ogata for a go lesson. Is father home?"
Ogata didn't appear to pay any attention to his words after that, and even seemed distracted when Tezuka mentioned that they could both shower at Tezuka's place. They were something of a size now, too, so Ogata was free to borrow a change of clothes if he didn't happen to have a set on him. Ogata shut the trunk of his car quickly and urged Tezuka into the passenger seat. A moment later, they were off.
Tezuka had something of a hard time navigating from the court to his home by following the roads. He normally took the train, and had done so for years. He found his way, though, and felt relieved with Ogata pulled into the driveway. That little red car looked strange in front of his house, but he grabbed his things and forged ahead anyway. "You do have a goban, right?"
With a nod, Tezuka led the way inside. "My father is a fan of go. He isn't all that good, nor is my grandfather who taught him, but he's passionate about it nonetheless."
They took turns in the shower, and met up downstairs in the living room where his father's goban was. Ogata was already laying out handicap stones for Tezuka. "I figured we'd play a game first so that I can test your ability. After that, we'll see how much I need to teach you."
Grabbing a stone, Tezuka suddenly halted. "How much do I owe you for the lessons, then?"
Smirking, Ogata trailed his fingers through the white stones in his goke. "Consider it a favor for putting up with an old man like me."
Placing his first stone, Tezuka shook his head. "You're nowhere close to an old man, Ogata, but I won't push. You're obviously not hard-up for money."
"As the current title-holder for several of the tournaments? No, not hard-up at all."
When Tezuka's father had come home later in the day, he'd practically danced at meeting Ogata, and almost swooned when Ogata offered to play a game against him. It was as much a slaughter as Ogata's first match against Tezuka, but they both appeared to be having fun anyway.
The next time Tezuka looked outside, it was nearly dark. He mentioned this to Ogata, and asked if the man would like to stay for dinner. Ogata turned him down, but promised to see him later on in the week. They shook hands and said their goodbyes.
Tezuka went to brush his teeth before bed and saw that Ogata's used towel was half-falling from the hamper. He picked it up and pushed it back in, but not before noticing that it smelled like the older man. His hand lingered on it, and perhaps brushed his teeth twice as hard as usual. His gums were then sore when he lay down for bed and he ran his tongue over them repeatedly and thought of tennis and go and his book from earlier. He did not let his thoughts stray.