by Tari Gwaemir
It was already dark when they got on the train after a particularly long exhibition game, which had ended as usual with Shindou sticking out his tongue at Touya, who responded by throwing one of the large plastic display stones at him, in front of the bewildered audience.
Their breath fogged and mingled in the air as they sat side by side, huddled in their coats.
"My hands are cold," Shindou complained.
"You shouldn't have forgotten your gloves," Touya replied unsympathetically.
"Bah, gloves are for the weak!"
Touya rolled his eyes and did not answer, but a short while later, Shindou felt a mittened hand wrap around his and tuck it securely into a warm coat pocket. When he looked over, Touya had his face turned away, studying what seemed to be an advertisement for shampoo with rapt interest.
Shindou smiled and leaned back in his seat. His hand stayed warm for the rest of the ride back to Tokyo.