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It was there when he came to pick up his shoes after his ooteai match. An innocuous pink envelope sitting atop his shoes, with his name written on it. A name that he could barely make out under all the flourishes and hearts that had been scribbled around it.
Sealed with a garish heart sticker too, apparently. He should have known it was a matter of time, seeing how that gaggle of high school girls never failed to trail him to the Go Institute on days that he was scheduled to play. Yes, even on school days, but that was another point for another time. This was the first time he had received a letter, though.
To be fair, he should at least read it and tell its sender in no uncertain terms that he had no interest in starting a relationship at present, right? So he opened it right there in front of the shelf. His match had ended late because that shodan couldn’t find the heart to resign, so he was fairly sure there weren’t any nosy parkers *coughShindouandWayacough* to tease him mercilessly about it later.
Isumi-san, I love you! I’ve loved you since I saw your picture in Go weekly, looking totally hot and cool at the same time but you know what I mean, right?
And he stopped reading there before the bento he had for lunch could make a reappearance. Flipping over the heavily-scented pink paper (the letter had gone on for two whole pages), he discovered, to his chagrin, that there was no signature.
Well, he did make a fair attempt at trying to contact the sender, so it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t respond, right? Stuffing the letter into his backpack (he’d prefer to dispose of it in a trashcan further away from the Institute, in case said nosy parkers came upon it by accident), he put on his shoes and proceeded to make his way home.
-
“D’ya think he’s onto us?”
“No way, I made sure no one was around when I left it there.”
“But he just walked away…”
“Shindou, Isumi-san would have come straight to us if he thought we were behind it. He probably wants to make a detour or something.”
“He’s heading straight for the train station! How is this making a detour?”
Waya scoffed. “Isumi-san is too nice to leave a girl waiting under a tree, even if he doesn’t like her.”
Hikaru frowned, or pouted, it was a cross between the two. “I hope your cousin is a patient woman.”
“Please. I’ve never heard her snap at her kids, and that’s saying a lot. Little demons, they are. Relax, Shindou, it’s all going fine.”
Unbeknownst to the two boys lurking at the corner around the Go Institute attempting to look inconspicuous but failing horribly, a second piece of heavily-scented pink paper sat crushed at the bottom of Hikaru’s backpack, which, if unfolded, would have read:
I’ll be waiting for you under the tree by the side entrance.
Love
Yamaguchi Ayane