The Go club, like the rest of the school's clubs, meets pretty much every day that school's in session. The teacher who's nominally in charge, as usual, keeps largely hands-off; he occasionally suggests that one student should play a particular other one, or recommends someone consult a particular book, but for the most part he lets the students sort things out for themselves.
He's just always watching.
And on this particular day, on this particular weekend, that means that he doesn't fail to observe that Mamoru Chiba is not exactly up to his usual standards of health. After all, Mamoru might not have been doing well the first day that Kunihiro Saito met him, but *most* days he does better. Just ... not today.
Which means that, as the last of the other students filters out the door, he levels a steady look at the lagging Mamoru. The question is nothing but blunt. "This appears to be a recurring condition. Have you consulted a physician yet?"
Mamoru, abruptly aware as the last students are filtering out that he's being Watched, is making his best effort to stand straighter and look less tired. It really only serves to make him look stiff and uncomfortable and faintly annoyed. He continues to hold his books like he's going to head out the door as well, but obligingly stays in place: he is polite, he is proper, he does not sass teachers, he does not misbehave; he is a model student, and until this year, has never missed a day of school.
He's never even been to the nurse's office except for yearly routine physicals.
"Yes," he lies easily, "and I was advised to take it easy, sir. Switching from track club to go club was supposed to help, but occasionally things pile up. It's nothing to worry about; if I don't participate in Kendo this week I should be fine by next."
He's got this unreadable expression on. It could be considered a challenge, but it could also be evaluated as a tired student wanting to go home.
"Good. Still. In the interest of reasonable precaution." Saito steps around the desk that had been between them, the one that still holds the woeful wreckage of a game between two of the students with the most to learn; he'd instructed them to copy down the end state of the board and consider it overnight, and excused them from cleaning up given the amount of time that took. "You'll be here at the end of school often, when you've had the stress of the day and not yet time to rest at home. If you wind up in an unexpected and unfortunate collapse, it's likely to be here." Or off wherever his energy is being bled. That's always a possibility. "With that possibility in view. What should we keep here, to help you recover? Glucose tablets? Protein bars?" The flickershift of his eyelids that serves, sometimes, almost in place of a smile. "A stick to fend off concerned bystanders?"
"It's not that common," Mamoru says reluctantly and a little peevishly. "Probably the stick."
He puts his books down, a reflexive action that frees both hands, and half-turns unconsciously, providing a more narrow silhouette. As he does this, he's sighing, keeping Saito in his peripheral vision but kind of glaring at the floor for a second, then looking up to meet the ice-grey gaze with his own cautious blue one.
"I just had a really long weekend. I was out hiking with a friend and she had a bad fall, ended up stabbing herself on a branch. I had to deal with that and get her stable, then carry her back to my car and take her to the ER. The paramedics would have had to come all the way out to the mountain and go all the way back, so I drove her myself. Then I was up all night with her because her parents were out of town. That was Saturday. Sunday was dealing with her parents, answering a million questions, and filling out a lot of paperwork in addition to homework and material preparation for the tutoring session I have in an hour. I really am just tired. After tutoring I'll go home and sleep. I appreciate your concern, but it's not necessary."
Mamoru may have been expecting many things. He may have been expecting skeptical disbelief. He may have been expecting overreaction and an attempt to defend him against having a life. He may have been expecting the teacher to point out that that version doesn't quite mesh with the 'I've seen a physician' part.
He may even have been expecting what actually happens: that Saito listens steadily, nods slightly once or twice, then lifts a hand to rest it briefly on Mamoru's shoulder. It's almost an American gesture, except that it's cut short enough not to be too discomfiting - less than a second of contact.
(And the shadows of Saito's fingertips, outside of Mamoru's range of vision, writhe silently and impalpably into a tiny serpentine coil, with a silhouetted dragon's head frozen in a distorted snarl. The shadow lingers when the hand that cast it is gone, darting in an instant into the shadows of Mamoru's hair. Melding with them. Gone.)
"Well done," the man says. "Definitely the stick, then. I won't keep you any longer. Good luck with your tutoring."
Despite the brevity of the contact, and despite the fact that the motion wasn't snakelike and quick in and of itself, the boy doesn't entirely manage to keep from flinching at the instant of contact.
Jadeite might have a number of applicable theories on it; Nephrite wouldn't even notice (and hadn't); Zoisite would catalogue it as a potentially exploitable weakness.
It's probably just an artefact left from his upbringing.
Either way, there's barely checked tension for the duration, in his shoulders and stance and jaw, and it fades immediately on the hand pulling away. That doesn't mean Mamoru stops watching Saito's face. His hand strays toward his books, and lingers there, but doesn't pick them up quite yet.
It's almost like the unexpected kindness and dismissal have him, contrarily, not wanting to leave. "Thank you, sir." He pauses. "I do hope you stay. A lot of teachers don't seem to stick around Infinity very long. I don't know why that is -- and I know I may not be the most straightforward of students -- but I honestly do appreciate your concern. I'm glad there's someone in my court."
There's a hestiant smile as Mamoru finally picks his books up again, and then the boy gives a perfunctory bow. "Good day, Saito-sensei."
With that, he's out the door.