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katsarisThis Hikaru no Go ficlet properly follows up on my earlier Dreams of the Kisei, though perhaps it stands decently enough on its own. Written *way* back, but I only showed it to a handful of friends back then, as I had originally planned it as a flashback, not as a standalone... And why couldn't "Entr'acte" be spelled the same as "Interact", I ask? *grumble*grumble*.
Warning! This is an R-RATED piece -- so no complaints about me traumatizing you for life, 'kay? I've warned ya all. :-)
Warning! This is an R-RATED piece -- so no complaints about me traumatizing you for life, 'kay? I've warned ya all. :-)
Broken souls
Entr'acte, in the dark
She had moaned his name once, in the throes of passion, as he was thrusting inside her, as he was bringing her to the cusp of orgasm.
It was only when he abruptly slowed and stopped, withdrawing his body from hers before either of them had finished, that she opened her eyes. She saw him there at the feet of their bed, legs folded beneath him as if he was sitting in front of the goban, expression serious and indecipherable as he was looking at her, and she suddenly realized it: it wasn't his name that she had moaned.
She gasped at what she had done and reached out a hand but he suddenly stood up, moved away from her. She heard him put on clothes and reach for his keys as he left the house, and she just lay there in the darkness, in the shame and the guilt.
She didn't say anything to stop him.
In the middle of the night he returned to her, and as she tried to sit up and tell him something, he hushed her. "It's okay. I won't deny you this," he said, and his voice was strange. He reached for the lights and then he reached for her and he didn't say another word for the duration of the sex that followed.
~ . ~
It happened less and less often as the years passed, but it still happened.
The signal was silence and darkness. She would strip and await him in bed, where he would find her naked in the darkness. He wouldn't say a word but just lock their bedroom door behind him as he walked in. He would undress and climb in after her, on top of her.
She would close her eyes, so that she wouldn't see his face. He would close his mind and his heart, so that he wouldn't hear her moans, in case she happened to again cry out a name that he didn't want to hear.
And with hands and with mouth and with penis, he would caress and touch and please her in all the ways that he knew she would like, in all the ways that he knew Hikaru had used to please her.
She would pretend he was Hikaru and he would pretend he was nobody at all. He would speak nothing, and feel nothing, and think nothing, and be nothing...
When he knew she had been satisfied, he would rise and put some clothes on and go out to the living room, closing the door behind him as he left. He'd sit before the goban and replay old games, ones he had played with his father, or with Ogata, or with Yashiro, or with Isumi. Sometimes even ones he had played with Hikaru. He would play, and he would try to think only of Go, and he would despair.
But before too much time passed, he would always hear the door opening behind him and her light footsteps across the floor. She would bring him a cup of hot tea, and she would carefully put her arms around him, and she would rest her head on his shoulder. She would speak one word.
"Akira..."
There was love in that one word, and lots of pain also. And thanks, and shame, and an apology.
And he would know in that moment that he would still remain with her, that not all of her affection was because of the man he reminded her of, the boy that had been the other half of both their souls. He would know that her love for him wasn't all pretense and neither was his.
~ . ~
The first time they had done this had also been the worst. She had been in tears afterwards, when she came to find him in front of the goban, and his name had only come out as a cracked sound halfway between a sob and a quiet scream. He held her tightly then, previous dark thoughts about leaving and never returning completely forgotten. And he cried with her. And if there had been anything to forgive, he forgave it.
"We're broken souls, you and I, aren't we?" Akari had said at one point.
He had held her even tighter. "Don't say that. We are mending."
It happened less and less as the years passed. Most of the times he remained Akira, and most of the times she kept her eyes open, and they seemed to him like stars inside the dimness of their bedroom.
Entr'acte, in the dark
She had moaned his name once, in the throes of passion, as he was thrusting inside her, as he was bringing her to the cusp of orgasm.
It was only when he abruptly slowed and stopped, withdrawing his body from hers before either of them had finished, that she opened her eyes. She saw him there at the feet of their bed, legs folded beneath him as if he was sitting in front of the goban, expression serious and indecipherable as he was looking at her, and she suddenly realized it: it wasn't his name that she had moaned.
She gasped at what she had done and reached out a hand but he suddenly stood up, moved away from her. She heard him put on clothes and reach for his keys as he left the house, and she just lay there in the darkness, in the shame and the guilt.
She didn't say anything to stop him.
In the middle of the night he returned to her, and as she tried to sit up and tell him something, he hushed her. "It's okay. I won't deny you this," he said, and his voice was strange. He reached for the lights and then he reached for her and he didn't say another word for the duration of the sex that followed.
~ . ~
It happened less and less often as the years passed, but it still happened.
The signal was silence and darkness. She would strip and await him in bed, where he would find her naked in the darkness. He wouldn't say a word but just lock their bedroom door behind him as he walked in. He would undress and climb in after her, on top of her.
She would close her eyes, so that she wouldn't see his face. He would close his mind and his heart, so that he wouldn't hear her moans, in case she happened to again cry out a name that he didn't want to hear.
And with hands and with mouth and with penis, he would caress and touch and please her in all the ways that he knew she would like, in all the ways that he knew Hikaru had used to please her.
She would pretend he was Hikaru and he would pretend he was nobody at all. He would speak nothing, and feel nothing, and think nothing, and be nothing...
When he knew she had been satisfied, he would rise and put some clothes on and go out to the living room, closing the door behind him as he left. He'd sit before the goban and replay old games, ones he had played with his father, or with Ogata, or with Yashiro, or with Isumi. Sometimes even ones he had played with Hikaru. He would play, and he would try to think only of Go, and he would despair.
But before too much time passed, he would always hear the door opening behind him and her light footsteps across the floor. She would bring him a cup of hot tea, and she would carefully put her arms around him, and she would rest her head on his shoulder. She would speak one word.
"Akira..."
There was love in that one word, and lots of pain also. And thanks, and shame, and an apology.
And he would know in that moment that he would still remain with her, that not all of her affection was because of the man he reminded her of, the boy that had been the other half of both their souls. He would know that her love for him wasn't all pretense and neither was his.
~ . ~
The first time they had done this had also been the worst. She had been in tears afterwards, when she came to find him in front of the goban, and his name had only come out as a cracked sound halfway between a sob and a quiet scream. He held her tightly then, previous dark thoughts about leaving and never returning completely forgotten. And he cried with her. And if there had been anything to forgive, he forgave it.
"We're broken souls, you and I, aren't we?" Akari had said at one point.
He had held her even tighter. "Don't say that. We are mending."
It happened less and less as the years passed. Most of the times he remained Akira, and most of the times she kept her eyes open, and they seemed to him like stars inside the dimness of their bedroom.
the named, the missed, the misnamed
THE END
THE END
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Date: 2006-03-01 06:45 am (UTC)Finding a title for this as a whole also annoyed me. I finally went with the stark and simple "Broken Souls" since my other idea (something like "Τhe Missed Named" or "Τhe Missing Named" or "The Missed, the Named" or "Missing Names") seemed vaguely artificial and corny when put in such prominent position.
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Date: 2006-03-01 12:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-22 01:12 pm (UTC)