Edited 25 Jul 2013: to fix plot inconsistencies and grammatical problems.

Author's Note: This chapter is more like a sequel to the previous one, but I put it as the second chapter because the basic premise takes heavily from the first story. In honour of Sarasusamiga's request for the "what happened after" part, this one is titled simply "After" :)

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The Implication That Follows: After

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Shindou surely didn't believe in luck.

Ogata once asked Akira if he knew the significance of Shindou's fan, the one he started carrying after returning to the pro world. The senior pro suspected that it had something to do with the whole secret of Shindou's involvement with Sai, but Akira preferred to think of it as simply Shindou's personal daruma, a self-reminder of his determination to keep walking on the path of Go.

Then Ashiwara had joked that it could be a good luck charm some girl had given to Shindou. Akira thought of Fujisaki Akari for a second; the next, he joined Ogata in teasing Ashiwara who must've had that kind of experience.

They established then that Shindou was definitely not the type who would believe in luck. At least in all relevance to Go.

So Akira got that theory totally shaken when Shindou came up behind him before their matches that Thursday, tapped his left shoulder, and said to Akira's questioning stare, "For luck."

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It continued, week after week, and Akira's bewildered expression never did improve, week after week. He supposed Waya found it funny, because that guy would hide his grin and whisper something to Shindou, who would answer first indignantly, and later on, doubtfully. The whole Ashiwara incident had left Akira with an unpleasant impression of Waya's opinions, which unsettled him more.

The shoulder taps progressed to shoulder squeezes, and Akira was getting really uncomfortable. He never thought much of such casual touches when it was just Ashiwara doing it, as Shindou too had learned, and he wondered if Shindou simply thought it was perfectly fine to do the same.

Then again, the luck part was too obvious a lie.

"Are you trying to pull something?" he confronted Shindou finally, when they were playing that Saturday.

"Pull something?" Shindou looked at the stone he had just put down, a perfectly normal response to Akira's previous hand. "What?"

Akira glanced at that stone as well, and decided it was no threat on his territory, unlike the intended topic of their conversation. He continued his plan of attack in both aspects. "The lucky gestures before your matches. It can't be that you actually believe in those."

Shindou looked up from the board, and stared at him.

"Shindou?" he prompted, disconcerted.

"Does it bother you?" Shindou asked back uncertainly.

Why couldn't he just answer the question? Akira was getting irritated. It wasn't so much the physical contact that he minded, but that he didn't know what it meant. If it had been sincere— if familiarity was what Shindou was after, he wouldn't need to lie about it now, would he?

The truth was that Akira found himself reacting differently to Shindou's touches, and it embarrassed him, and he was almost sure Shindou knew this by now. Was Shindou making fun of him for that? Or was he still convinced that there was something going on between Akira and Ashiwara, and was testing...

"I wouldn't have asked if it didn't," Akira snapped. "So?"

Shindou frowned. He glanced at the Go board, ignoring Akira's demanding look, and put down his interrupted move.

"Shin—"

"If you don't like it, I'll stop doing that," Shindou said simply.

Now Akira was the one who frowned. "Don't avoid the question. There are only so many 'someday'-s I'd take from you."

"I'm not answering that question, and there's no someday to it." Shindou tilted his head to indicate the board. "Your turn now."

He trained his eyes on the Go board, refusing to look at Akira.

Akira slammed down his stone. He didn't need to think long for that; the flow of that one game, at least, was still readable.

"Fine," he gritted his teeth. "Igo it is."

Shindou's gaze snapped up to him as he said that, but Akira ignored him now. It terrified him enough to think that he was attracted to Shindou beyond Go; unless Shindou felt the same —and even then— it would only ruin what they had right now. It was just as well that Shindou could dismiss those touches so easily, that they didn't mean anything... that he no longer had to deal with them. The only thing he needed to exist between them was Go, nothing else.

They finished the game in tense silence. Shindou lost, but when Akira threw a challenging look at him, he merely heaved a sigh and didn't seem to mind.

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"What is it with you?" Akira heard Waya's voice across the room, far from a whisper for once. Shindou had not made his lucky gesture for that day's match, as he said he wouldn't; and apparently Akira was not the only one feeling the loss.

Shindou looked irritated as he dragged Waya out of view. The other boy's protests became muffled as they disappeared behind a pillar at the corner.

They emerged when the matches began, both scowling. Akira willed his mind not to think about the topic of their secret conversation, which most certainly involved him.

He wasted no time crushing his opponent, for fear that his concentration would dwindle if the game dragged on for too long. He had just made his way out of the room when Shindou, having finished his match just as early, walked past him briskly.

Not even a greeting now, Akira thought. Not that he felt like dealing with his rival at that moment either.

Another set of brash footsteps from the door made him turn. Waya stopped two steps beside him, looking unhappy.

Akira nodded slightly by way of a greeting. His mind was already preparing the polite refusal for whatever piece of mind Waya had about Shindou and him.

"Now see here," Waya said, drawing his match schedule out of his pocket. He unfolded the piece of paper, flipped to the blank side and began scribbling. "This is how Shindou's mind works, okay?"

"Waya-san," Akira interrupted firmly. "There is no need—"

"This is five months ago," Waya pushed on, putting down 'Touya', a double-headed arrow beside it, then 'Ashiwara'. "But some time after, we knew..." He crossed out the arrow.

Akira watched, pressed by Waya's confident tone. He knew now why Shindou had trouble refusing to listen to this guy.

"And then he kind of realized..." Waya glanced at him, but Akira had only a moment to wonder what that was for, before Waya drew another arrow from 'Touya', and at the end of it he wrote 'me'.

Akira fought off a blush.

"But!" Waya overwrote the arrow with a thick dashed line, and put a big question mark beside it with much emphasis, almost making a hole in the paper. "Of course the dope could never be sure unless you spell it out to him. So just in case you'd reject him, he decided to be subtle." He snorted. "I tell you, for all the simpleton that he is..."

Akira looked on, baffled. Waya drew another arrow from 'me' to 'Touya', and labeled it 'hint hint'.

"Now, I've told him over and again that you too need these things spelt out to you, because, God knows, both of you can be so much alike. But he wouldn't listen to me." Waya shook his head. "So now would you mind telling me whatever had happened—" he circled the dashed arrow with the question mark, "—to make him think that this one is non-existent after all?"

"Did he tell you all this?" Akira asked, standing his ground yet. The last thing he needed was another set of questionable assumptions.

"Touya," Waya said impatiently, "Everyone whose match schedule coincides with you two for just once knows this."

"Appearance means nothing," Akira said stiffly. "He of all people should know that. You too, Waya-san." Geez, didn't they learn anything from the previous misunderstanding?

Waya narrowed his eyes, looking down at his chart then back at Akira. "Are you telling me you've been leading him on for no basis at all?"

For all Akira knew, Shindou was the one who'd been leading him on for no basis at all. But he controlled himself and said, "This is between Shindou and me."

"Oh yeah? If you two could settle it just between yourselves, would things have turned out this way?"

Akira took a breath, before he snatched the pencil from the would-be matchmaker's fingers. He crossed out the arrow that pointed to his name forcefully, and this time he did make a hole on the paper.

"Even so, leave us be," he said, and pressed the pencil back into Waya's hand.

Akira stalked away, leaving the other boy cursing at his ruined schedule.

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Akira didn't know what to expect on Saturday, but Shindou turned out as usual. He sat across Akira without saying anything, and Akira barely lifted his eyes to acknowledge his presence. They started the game just like that.

Halfway through, it became painfully obvious.

Akira gripped the edge of the table and closed his eyes. He sensed Shindou leaning back and running a hand through his hair in likewise frustration. Really, Akira would have slammed his hands on the table and yelled like the old times at this disappointing standard, if only his own moves hadn't been equally horrible.

"Do you want to start over?" he calmed himself down enough to ask.

"It wouldn't work," Shindou said, his voice heavy. He stood up. "I... we... need time to sort things out, and until then..."

He didn't finish, and the sight of his distancing back hit Akira hard with the realization that even Go might have been lost to them.

In desperation, he blurted out, "Shindou—"

Shindou turned with a speed that assured Akira his rival wanted just as badly to fix this.

"I don't mind," Akira managed, "if you want to continue with your lucky gestures."

Shindou stared at him.

"You don't have to explain it. I won't ask anymore."

It was probably a mistake demanding for everything to be definitive, and he would settle with anything that would return this to normal again.

Shindou walked back to the chair slowly, and sat down with a thud. As he lifted his eyes to Akira, however, they were almost flaming.

"What do you take it for? It's not simply up to me, now is it?"

So much for peace offerings. "What do you expect? You were the one who refused to tell me what I should take it for!"

"Because I knew this would happen!" Shindou slammed his hand on the Go board, scattering the unfinished game. "Oh well, it happens anyway, doesn't it. To think I took all the trouble to be considerate."

"Considerate how, exactly? You were pulling such a tease with all those touches, and then you dismissed them like they were nothing!"

At Shindou's confused look, Akira sighed in resignation. "You know very well where you stand in my eyes. Would it hurt to tell me clearly where I stand in yours?"

Shindou's face changed, a look of genuine surprise.

"Where I stand...?" He looked thoughtful for a second, amused the next, and his eyes were clear when he finally said, "You really didn't get it, did you?"

Shindou's enlightened expression was enlightening in itself. "Neither did you," Akira replied, now seeing the whole picture too. It was, admittedly, perfectly drawn in Waya's chart, but no one blamed the villagers for not believing the boy who cried wolf.

"Hey, I read it right the first time," Shindou countered, "but you threw me off when you got so upset about me touching you."

"And which idiot came up with the stupid 'lucky gesture' excuse?"

"It had to be stupid, otherwise how would I get you to know that there was another meaning to it?"

Akira considered this. "True enough."

"And I at least did something," Shindou said pointedly.

"You already knew," Akira defended himself.

"I guessed. I even waited a few more weeks to see if you would give me more signals, but you never did."

"All right, all right," Akira huffed. "Now you know, over and done with."

"Sheesh, be more appreciative," Shindou pouted. He paused before adding, "I'm not getting anything out of this, remember. You and Ashiwara-san had better be grateful."

Akira was confused at the turn of the conversation. "Ashiwara-san? What does it have to do with him?"

Shindou looked at him wearily. "You sure you want me to say it out? You are in fact dating him, right? I accidentally blew the secret in front of those people, so you gave me those suggestive signals as a decoy. Well, it was my fault, so I decided to help out and acted all friendly with you, to cover up your real relationship. And it was a success, wasn't it?"

Akira stared.

"Right?" Shindou asked.

Akira didn't know what to say.

"Touya?" Shindou leaned forward. "I thought you already understood everything..."

"It is not—" Akira began, but then, if Shindou really did all that not because he returned the sentiment...

He fell silent.

"Of course," Shindou said, "That's what it is not."

Akira blinked. "Huh?"

"I thought you got it already," Shindou said. "Then you'd know it wasn't true, right?"

"You," Akira accused, understanding dawning on him.

"So what is it again about where I stand?" Shindou asked, a ghost of a twitch on his lips.

"Go to hell," Akira muttered darkly.

"Just so we're clear about this, Touya. We can't afford another misunderstanding, you know." He traced the tip of his finger around a Go stone.

That insolent...

"Touya?"

Akira started to put the Go stones back into the bowls.

"Touya," Shindou called, more gently, but the newfound laughter in his voice made Akira stand up indignantly.

A pair of hands held his shoulder blades before he could move away, though, and he was turned back to face the smiling eyes, surprisingly devoid of any playfulness.

"Just so you know," Shindou said, "I like you too."

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