[ryan]
BLIND WOE
by flonnebonne
GRAND SLAM WRITING JAM!
Weekly Go is celebrating its 15th Anniversary with an essay contest! The grand prize winner will receive a fabulous trip to Seoul, Korea! The topic of the essay: an experience that changed your go. All submissions must be typed and double-spaced.
"TOUYA!"
"Present," replied Touya, not looking up from his novel. "And you don't have to scream my name, I know what it is."
"Touya!" Hikaru yelled again at a slightly lower decibel level. "What's this about a contest? With a trip to Korea as the prize?"
"What about it?"
"Why didn't you tell me about it before?"
Touya flipped the page of his book. "I assumed you know how to read. They've been advertising it for the past four weeks now. But I guess I assumed too much."
Hikaru thwapped his copy of Weekly Go on the table, right beside Touya's pretentious-looking leather-bound novel. "But look at the ad, it's so poorly designed! The first prize is a free trip to Korea and it's written in tiny letters. They should have put that at the top instead of that "Grand Slam Writing Spam" title or whatever. Otherwise why would I pay attention to this kind of thing?"
Touya shifted in his seat in a way that meant he was irritated but too polite to show it to anyone but Hikaru. But because Hikaru knew how to read Touya's moods, he knew that when Touya shifted in his seat that way it meant he wanted Hikaru to know he was irritated, or possibly his butt was itchy.
"Maybe," said Touya very clearly, finally looking up from his book, "some people are participating in this contest for reasons other than wanting the prize. Maybe some people think that they have a story to tell--"
"Yeah, yeah, trip to Korea. I can go over there and kick Ko Yongha's ass. A few hundred times. Maybe play Suyon too. Priorities, Touya."
Touya opened his mouth, his mouth pursed in a way that meant something caustic was about to be said, but what came out was, "You should eat. Lunch break will be over soon."
Hikaru looked at his beef bowl and felt distinctly un-hungry. "Hey, why are you acting so weird? You're not shouting at me, even though I've been shouting at you."
"I am not acting weird. You know about the other prizes, right?"
"Of course I know." Hikaru scanned beyond the first two sentences of the contest ad. "Yeah...well, if that isn't the biggest let-down of a second place prize ever. A book of kifu."
"Kifu from the Golden Age of Go," Touya pointed out. "It's a new book. I thought you might be interested in it."
"But I already know all of Shuusaku's games by heart," said Hikaru, because it was the truth. "And anyway, it doesn't matter because I'm going to win the grand prize."
"Oh, really? I suppose you have some wonderful idea about what to write, then?"
Hikaru opened his mouth to respond, when it suddenly hit him that he would actually have to write in order to get that coveted ticket to Korea. Hadn't he escaped junior high so he wouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing anymore? The most complex thing he'd written lately was the "HA I KILLED UR ASS THT GAME" message he'd sent to Waya's cell phone last week. How the hell was he supposed to win a writing contest?
But Touya was looking at him in that straightforward way of his, a hint of challenge and disbelief and mockery and Kaio-brand snobbishness in the set of his chin and the depths of his eyes and most of all in the pinstripes of his god-awful tie. Hikaru wouldn't back down from a challenge like that.
"Shindou, why are you staring at my tie?"
"I am not staring at your tie."
"Why are you staring at my chest?"
"I am staring at your tie."
"Is that what you're going to write about?"
"No, in fact, I'm going to writing something great, so you can't be in it at all," Hikaru declared. He felt weird as soon as the words came out of his mouth, which probably meant he hadn't meant to say that at all, but he wasn't going to take it back now that Touya was looking at him like that. Like he wanted to kill him.
"Well," said Touya icily (he was the only person Hikaru knew who could actually be described as speaking icily) (and why the heck was he so mad?), "since that's how you feel, I suppose I should leave you to write in peace. Best of luck to you."
Touya stood up abruptly, which meant that his chest was suddenly level with Hikaru's face and generally waaaaaay too close for comfort. It was freaking him out, Touya in his calm-angry mode; he much preferred Touya in his explosive-angry mode. Made for better go.
"Hey!" said Hikaru as Touya neatly tucked his chair under the table and started walking away, long hair hiding his face. "You won't be seeing me until the contest is over! And you'll be seeing me with that ticket to Korea in hand!"
For a moment Touya stopped, his shoulders squared in that annoyingly proud way--but he said nothing, and continued on his way.
"Damn it," said Hikaru quietly after Touya had turned the corner. "What do I do now?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What do you mean you want my help?" Waya demanded.
Hikaru rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean exactly what I said."
"It's only eight days before the deadline. How could you not know about it? What did you think everyone was talking about this whole month? Why did you think Morishita-sensei's was muttering 'not finished, not finished' during study group?"
"I thought it was because he failed to make two eyes," Hikaru replied sheepishly. "Or that he had to do his taxes."
"It's not even tax time right now! I knew you were dense but this really takes the cake. And you think you have a chance at winning? You weren't even smart enough to know there's a contest going on!"
"But if you think you have a chance of winning, then I probably--"
Waya whacked him on the arm. "Don't compare me to you. For one thing, I already know what I'm going to write."
"Ah ha! So you haven't actually started yet!"
"But I know what I'm going to write!"
"But you haven't started yet!"
"But I know what I'm going to write!"
"What are you gonna write?"
"As if I'd tell you, you just want to steal my idea."
Hikaru put on his saddest, most pitiful expression, the one that always convinced his mom and Kawai-san to buy stuff for him.
"I'm not your mother," said Waya. "There's no way that's going to work. Just--stop it. Don't look at me like that. Don't. Okay, fine, I'll tell you, I'm writing about passing--Isumi-san!"
Hikaru gave him a bewildered look. "You're writing about passing Isumi-san? You're good and all, but I don't think you can say you've passed--"
Waya was waving at someone behind Hikaru. "Isumi-san, over here!"
"What are you two talking about?" Isumi wondered, walking up to them. "I could hear you from the game room."
"We were just talking about that contest in Weekly Go , which our young genius here--" Waya pointed his thumb at Hikaru, "--didn't know about at all."
"Hey!"
Isumi smiled indulgently at Hikaru, which was kind of annoying but less annoying than Waya was in general. "Do you have any ideas about what to write?"
Hikaru shook his head. "No, and stupid Waya here isn't helping me out any. Isumi-san, what are you writing about? About finally passing the pro exam?"
"No, not exactly," said Isumi thoughtfully. "I'm going to write about my trip to China."
"Oh, China," Waya commented, rather uselessly.
"Yang Hai-san and the others really helped me find my go there. Compared to that, the pro exam was almost just an afterthought. Writing this essay is going to be my small way of showing how much Yang Hai-san and the others helped me. And also, I think a lot of other people will write about the pro exam, so I wanted to write about something different. What about you, Waya?"
For some reason Waya was wincing. "Um, I haven't decided yet."
"What?" Hikaru blurted out. "But you said earlier--"
"Shindou, you have a brain the size of a takoyaki ball, you can't trust what you might think you don't remember me saying some thirty seconds ago."
"What?"
"My point exactly."
"Waya," chided Isumi.
"I know, stop picking on the village idiot."
"Hey!" Hikaru said for the second time this conversation. He really wished he were better at defending himself. Defending himself, defending himself...which was what Waya was trying to do by diverting the conversation from...
"I know what you're gonna write about!" he crowed at Waya. "I bet it's about the pro exam. And Isumi-san just said that that's a stupid idea!"
Waya's face was turning slightly pink. "Don't be stupid. My idea is way better than that."
"Then tell us what it is!"
"No, you'll just steal it."
"Waya," said Isumi, "if you don't have any ideas, I could help you come up with something."
Waya looked back and forth between the gleeful Hikaru and the concerned Isumi, obviously conflicted.
"Do you want me to come over to your place?" added Isumi.
"No, that's okay," Waya said slowly, sounding as if he was hating himself already for his decision. "I can do this on my own. I know I can. It's okay. I rely on you enough as it is."
Hikaru looked at him in astonishment. "Who are you and what have you done to Waya?"
"Shut up! You need to come up with an idea on your own too."
Isumi nodded. "It'll mean more if it comes from your own memories, rather than from someone else."
"That's true. I want to write something good," said Waya.
Hikaru eyed them warily. They were actually serious. He nodded as well, and said, "Me too. I'll write something good."
"Yeah," Waya agreed with a grin. "Shindou, let's promise each other that we'll finish this even if it kills us."
"Yes. Even if it kills us," Hikaru agreed.
As they gave each other high-fives, Waya added, "After all, what's a couple thousand words?"
***********************
Five days later
"I HATE THE WORLD," Hikaru scrawled in his notebook. "ESPECIALLY WAYA YOSHITAKA. COUPLE THOUSAND WORDS MY ASS."
Hikaru stared at the shiny new black notebook he'd bought especially for this goddamn essay. The only thing he'd written in it were curses against the world at large and against a few people in particular. He looked at the list of names he'd written (Touya and Waya's names appeared multiple times) and could feel the death wishes welling up in him. Man, who knew that the act of writing could make a person feel so murderous? If only Sai had been a shinigami...
Hikaru was (thankfully) pulled out of his homicidal funk by his cell phone, which was beeping out a Ken Hirai song, which meant that Waya had once again secretly reprogrammed his phone to be a wussy piece of junk. Hikaru ignored the call and wrote down five more sentences about Waya in the black notebook.
Waya Yoshitaka dies of carpal tunnel syndrome because he wasted his time performing cell phone piracy when he was supposed to be working on his essay. Waya Yoshitaka dies via piracy in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. Waya Yoshitaka dies by ass piracy. Waya Yoshitaka dies by god I hate this song.
Ken Hirai would not shut up. Hikaru finally snatched up his cell phone and hit the answer button. "Hello?!" he yelled.
"...Hikaru? This is Akari. Um, where are you? You were supposed to come over and play a tutoring game with me."
"I was?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Oh crap! I'm so sorry, Akari, I totally forgot! You should have reminded me."
"I'm not your mother."
"Yeah, she didn't remind me either."
He heard a huffing sound from her end, and he could imagine her twisting her fingers in her hair in annoyance. "Anyway," she said, "it's not like I live very far from you. You can still come over and only be...let's see, forty-five minutes late."
Hikaru looked at the clock. Eight forty-four in the evening. He looked at his notebook. About five hundred words, all death threats. "I'm sorry, Akari...the reason I forgot about our game was because there's this writing contest that Weekly Go is putting on, and--"
"Oh, I know about that. I've already finished mine."
"You WHAT?"
"I had some free time between fourth and fifth period today."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. Well, yes, I'm kidding about finishing it between fourth and fifth period, but I am finished."
"I meant whether you were kidding about entering the contest thing."
He heard another huff through the phone. "Just because I'm not a pro doesn't mean I don't have some good stories to tell. And I actually pay attention during Japanese class, so I know a lot of big words, unlike you."
"What did you write about?"
"About the Haze Go Club, of course. About how Tsutsui-senpai started everything on his own, and how he pulled you in, then me and Kumiko, and Mitani-kun, Kaneko-san, Koike-kun...we had some good times together."
"Huh, that sure takes me back. It actually sounds like a pretty good essay topic. Maybe I should--"
"Don't you dare steal my idea."
"I was just kidding."
"Sure you were. Why would you want to write about the Haze Go Club anyway? Aren't you going to write about Touya Akira?"
"Why would I write about him?" Hikaru asked coldly.
There was a pause on the other end, before Akari said, "Oh, I see. It's that time of month again."
"What's that supposed to mean!?"
"You guys are having a spat, right? You should really go make up with him, it'll make you feel better."
"We are not having a spat. He mortally offended me--"
"Oh really? What did he say to mortally offend you?"
Hikaru tried to think back to their last conversation, to whatever thoughtless, elitist remark Touya had thrown at him this time, but the only offensive thing he could remember was Touya's bee-stripe tie and purple suit combination.
"Look, he was pretty horrible that day, okay? Anyway, I need to get writing, Akari."
"I really mean it, Hikaru, you should go make up with Touya. It'll cut down on both our cell phone bills if I don't need to be your therapist all the time."
"Bye, Akari."
"Good luck, Hikaru."
+++++++++++++++++++
The next day
"God, that game took forever," Hikaru groaned.
"Mine too," concurred Waya.
"I don't have time to waste, I need to go work on my essay."
"How much have you written?"
"Uh..."
Hikaru had not written anything after getting off the phone with Akari the night before. He'd been too depressed after hearing that Akari had already finished her essay. He had lost to Akari!
"Uh, I've been working on it but I haven't been making much headway. There's just too much pressure."
"I know! Why did they give us so little time? It's not fair."
"We're busy people, with busy schedules!"
"Every minute of every day is busy busy busy!"
"Hey," Honda poked his head into the lobby, "you guys look like you're free, want to go get something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure," said Waya. "You coming, Shindou?"
"Yeah."
"Great," said Honda. "Let me just go get some other people."
Hikaru was pleasantly surprised when Honda came back with Nase, Komiya and Fuku in tow. He was also pleasantly surprised when they were able to secure their favourite table at the local NcDonalds. He was not so pleasantly surprised when the topic of the Weekly Go contest came up.
"I'm almost done!" Fuku informed them while happily dipping his fries in mayonnaise. "I'm writing about the first time I saw my uncle play go. He's so cool! He plays really fast but he doesn't make any mistakes, except this one time when he played a hane when he meant to play a hane-dashi. And another time he missed an atari. And another time he knocked over his captured stones and totally messed up the board. But other than that he's really good!"
Waya groaned. "A speed player. Why am I not surprised. Nase, what about you, you writing anything?"
Nase took a sip of her cola and shook her head. "No, I don't have time for it, as much as I'd like to. It's not super busy at school yet, but I really have to watch my grades."
"I remember how that feels," Honda sighed.
"I'm the same as Nase," Komiya chimed in, "except that I don't really care about the contest. I do too much writing in Japanese class as it is."
"Honda-san, what about you?" asked Hikaru.
Honda shuffled in his vinyl seat guiltily. "I haven't decided yet."
"What?"
"What do you mean you haven't decided yet?"
"Isn't it due in two days?"
"But I don't have any good ideas yet, and I really don't want to write something second-rate," said Honda. "I was thinking of writing about playing against Yashiro Kiyoharu for the first time, when he used a first-hand tengen, but that was a pretty bad loss for me and I don't think it's interesting enough."
"There's just so much pressure to impress," grumbled Hikaru, echoing his earlier conversation with Waya. Yeah, it was the pressure's fault, not his.
"Well, if you don't have anything to write about, then don't write," Waya said around the cheeseburger he was stuffing in his mouth.
"But everyone else is doing it," Hikaru replied.
"Not everybody," said Nase.
"Yeah, what are we, chopped liver?" Komiya added. "I don't see what the big deal is anyway."
"Well," said Fuku, "I don't know if this is going to make sense, but it was kind of...fun being under all this pressure to write? There's kind of this feeling of us all being in it together. And it's even more fun now that I've finished and I can watch everyone else trying to finish."
"Glad you enjoy our suffering," muttered Hikaru.
Komiya gave Fuku a dubious look. "What, so it's a big bonding experience or something?"
"I don't agree with that," put in Honda.
Nase tapped her fingers on the table. "I can sort of see what Fuku means, even though I'm an 'outsider.' We hardly ever see you guys anymore since you turned pro, outside of Waya's study groups--Waya, you should really start those up again--but then you invited us out today, Honda-san, probably so you could procrastinate. It was really nice of you."
Honda's face abruptly turned pink. "You're welcome."
"Wait," said Komiya, "so you're all bonded together in the act of procrastination?"
Hikaru fidgeted in his seat. That was way too accurate for his tastes.
"The way you say it makes it sound so silly," said Nase, smiling. "Bonded together in the act of procrastination."
Waya finally shoved the last bit of his burger in his mouth. "Bonding. Yeah right. You know that we're all going to be sitting alone in our apartments as usual after this."
"Maybe you just need to get out more," suggested Komiya.
"Maybe you need a bigger apartment, so people would actually want to visit you."
"A fridge would be nice too."
"Air conditioning."
"Heat in the winter."
"Hell yeah, it's like an icebox in there."
"And yet the soft drinks are always mysteriously lukewarm."
Waya exploded in sudden wrath, "What is this, rag-on-Waya day? No wonder I wanted to become a pro so much, it was so I could get away from you people!"
"Or maybe you just wanted to get away from Fuku beating you all the time."
"Fuku did not beat me all the time," Waya sulked. "I beat him once."
"Anyway ," said Nase, "getting back to the contest, shouldn't you guys be panicking?"
Waya stole one of her fries. "Stop acting so casual just because you decided not to enter."
"I'm just worried that you'll try to do it all at the last minute. Especially Hikaru."
"That's not fair," Hikaru protested. "Why does everyone assume I don't know what I'm doing?"
Everyone just kind of stared at him. Then they all started laughing. Fuku sprayed half-chewed chicken nuggets all over Waya's shirt.
"Shindou," began Nase, one hand covering her mouth delicately, "no offense, but you were always telling us about your test scores in junior high. Waya, stop throttling Fuku."
"We used to take bets on how low your scores could get," Honda admitted with a grin. "I won a bundle of money when you got seven percent on a math test."
"I hate you all," said Hikaru darkly. It wasn't his fault he'd done so badly in math. Sai had had no head for modern math systems.
"The point is," said Komiya, "you should maybe be worrying a bit. What with there being only two days left. Honda-san and Waya too."
Waya unwrapped his fingers from Fuku's throat. "Who says I'm not worrying?"
"The fact that you're hanging out here with us says it all, don't you think??"
Hikaru looked at Waya who looked at Honda who looked at Hikaru, who felt like he was playing a mental game of rock-paper-scissors. "Maybe we're just looking for inspiration," he suggested weakly.
"Inspiration?" said Nase, surprised. "If you're looking for inspiration, then why aren't you at Touya-san's go salon?"
Hikaru's mood immediately darkened. "My life doesn't revolve around Touya Akira," he informed her loftily.
"Yes, it does," said Waya. "It totally does."
"I never actually said anything about Touya Akira," Nase added with an annoyingly cute smile. "You brought him up yourself. It's so sweet."
Hikaru scrunched up his hamburger wrapper and aimed it at Waya's head, because it just wouldn't be nice to hit Nase. The ball ended up hitting Fuku instead.
"Ow!"
"I've got to go now," said Hikaru, pushing himself out of his seat. "I guess you're right--I should be writing. And you guys just invited me out to make fun of me."
"He finally figures it out," said Komiya.
"I'm sorry, Shindou, you just make it so easy," apologized Nase, still smiling.
"And you all make my life so difficult."
In response, Nase giggled and leaned across Honda (who blushed madly) to say to Hikaru, soto voice, "You'll be fine, you just need some inspiration. "
He gave her a blank look.
"Inspiration," she said, not-so-quietly this time. "You know where to go for that."
The blankness grew.
"Touya Akira's salon," she huffed, not-at-all quietly this time. She gave him a strong push towards the restaurant doors. "Stop being a stubborn boy and get over there already."
"There's no way I'm going there!" Hikaru yelled back.
"Thank you for eating at NcDonalds," said a sales clerk way too cheerfully. Hikaru stared at the pinstripes of her uniform as he walked out the door.
"No way in hell," he muttered.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Hikaru found himself in front of hell.
He'd only opted for Nase's solution after many long, long nano-seconds of careful consideration. He'd wanted to go to his grandfather's house instead, where Sai's goban still rested, but no one had picked up the phone when he called. And he knew in his heart that things hadn't truly started there, his heart hadn't been stolen by go in that attic. The place where it had really begun was...here.
He just hoped Touya wasn't in.
Hikaru stole into the salon with the liquid footsteps of a ninja.
"If it isn't Shindou!" yelled one of the patrons.
"Welcome, Hikaru-kun!" greeted Ichikawa.
"I thought you weren't going to see me anymore," said a cool, familiar voice.
Hikaru heard Touya's snotty little comment before he saw his snotty purple suit. "Were you waiting to ambush me or something?" he huffed.
"No, of course not."
Touya was sitting at a table near the door today instead of his usual place near the back. The chair across from him was empty.
"You don't even have an opponent, you're just playing with the stones," Hikaru accused. He strode to the table and tried to read the shape on the board. It looked like a waffle. And Touya's cheeks were a little pink even, like he'd been arranging that waffle just for Hikaru, a pretty little housewife in a lavender apron. Where the hell did that thought come from?
"Your game sucks," said Hikaru, in a desperate attempt at normalcy.
"Be quiet," said Touya, who was as of yet still too polite to say "shut up" in front of the customers. The shut ups would come later. "You're the one who came back to me when you said that you wouldn't. You don't have the right to act high and mighty."
Now it was Hikaru's turn to flush. "I didn't come here to see you. This isn't your private go salon. I can come here and not talk to you if I want to."
"But you're talking to me," Touya pointed out.
"You started it."
"You didn't have to answer."
Hikaru didn't let the words that were floating in his brain come out of his mouth: But I always answer you.
Touya seemed to notice Hikaru's brain-mouth communication breakdown, because he tilted his head just enough to reveal what a smug bastard he was, not-so-deep-down. "Did you come to ask for my help with your essay? I would be glad to check over your grammar for you."
"No, I don't need your help. I just wanted to come here to find the right atmosphere, help me generate some ideas."
"Don't tell me you haven't even started yet?"
Hikaru was proud of the fact that he had gotten so used to lying about his essay over the past few days that he didn't even blink an eye at Touya's accusation.
"On the contrary, I'm almost done," he said calmly, and mentally added almost done digging myself into the biggest hole ever discovered since someone tried to measure the size of Ayumi Hamasaki's brain. "Yeah, I'm doing great."
"Really," Touya replied dispassionately, clearly skeptical. "Well, why don't you sit down and tell me about it."
Hikaru looked at the goban. It looked so tempting, despite its current waffly disposition. He forced himself to turn his nose up into the air. "I said you wouldn't be seeing me until after the contest is over, and I meant it."
"I can see you right now."
"Of course you can, you're a stalker."
"This is my father's go salon. I have every right to be here."
"And I'm a paying customer, I have every right to be here too."
Touya turned his head toward the front counter. "Ichikawa-san, has Shindou paid the entrance fee?"
Ichikawa looked away from the customer she was talking to. "No, of course not. He never does."
"Thank you." Touya turned back to Hikaru, an expectant look on his face.
"That's not the point," said Hikaru with a lot more bluster than me felt. "The point is that you should stop acting so superior just because you think you can write better than me. So you went to Kaio, everyone knows you went to Kaio, you still dress like you're trying to make up for some kind of psychological problem you got from going to Kaio. You know Kaio's uniforms always made you look like you escaped from a nuthouse, right?"
Touya half-stood up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table. Hikaru had finally reached the threshold of Touya's anger.
"Stop acting like a five year old!" Touya said loudly, not quite shouting yet. "Just admit you need help and I'll help you!"
"I don't need your help!"
"Boys!" called Ichikawa. "If you're gonna do your thing together, can you not be too loud today?"
"We are not doing anything together!" Hikaru and Touya yelled back at the same time.
She ignored them and began issuing the five minute warning signal to the remaining customers, who hardly needed to be told when to escape from the imminent Hikaru-Touya meltdown.
Hikaru crossed his arms and glared at Touya. "Now look at what you've done."
"I haven't done anything. I've just been minding my own business. It's you who barged in here and started making so much noise, like you always do!"
"You're making just as much noise!"
"Because you keep pretending that you didn't come here to see me!"
He couldn't really deny that, especially not with his fingers itching to clear the board, take the stones in hand, slam them in the spots he knew would drive Touya crazy. He looked at Touya, who was breathing hard, heat flushing his face. It made Hikaru's heart beat harder too. Suddenly he had a sudden vision of himself lunging across the goban, grabbing Touya by the tie, stones flying everywhere, pulling him to the ground and pinning him, making him flush too, straddling that skinny body of his and punching the living daylights out of him. Yes, that would totally make Hikaru's day.
But Touya seemed to be getting control of himself. He sat down and said, voice low, "Shindou, why did you come here, if not to play me?"
Hikaru did not know what to say. He only knew that his hands were so, so itchy for the stones. He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, then said, "I have to leave."
There was a flicker of fear in Touya's eyes, and Hikaru realized with a tiny pang of guilt that he was always leaving Touya like this, without answers. He said hastily, "I'm not gonna disappear, I'm just gonna go write."
"Did you find what you were looking for here?"
He shook his head. "No. I guess I'll have to look somewhere else."
"Fine," said Touya. "See you after it's over."
"Yeah."
Hikaru took his hand off the table and made his way toward the door.
"Bye," he waved to Ichikawa as he was passing by.
"Wait," she said. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You need ideas for the writing contest, right? Could I try to help you out?"
Hikaru paused. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Come with me." She beckoned him to follow her through the door behind the counter. He had never been in that room before. He had never really said more than five words at a time to Ichikawa, come to think of it.
What the hell, he thought as he followed her in. It couldn't hurt at this point.
%_%_%_%_%_%_%_%_
"Now, just lie down and relax," said Ichikawa soothingly. She was wearing a rather low-necked shirt today, Hikaru noticed as she leaned over to push him gently onto the couch. Boom chika chika wow wow went the imaginary jukebox in his head.
Relax, he told himself sternly. Think about something stupid to distract him, like Touya. Stupid Touya making a waffle for him. In a lavender apron. Bow wow chika chika wow wow. Oh god, Hikaru was going insane.
Ichikawa was closing the blinds. "I'm just going to make this room nice and dark to set the mood," she explained. Bow wow chika chika WOW WOW. "I want you to let your mind wander. Dream up crazy things, things you wouldn't normally think of. Visualize." Touya in a lavender apron. Ichikawa helping him with the waffle iron. Batter dripping everywhere. Agh. "Some people need to have lots of stimuli in order to come up with anything, but I think you're an overstimulated boy already." You got that right. "You have a story in you, you just need to sit down and let it come out. Or just lie down, rather." She sat down next to him on the couch.
Oh god. "I, uh, don't see exactly how--"
"Trust me." She winked at him. "I was the president of the art club in high school, I know all about having a creative block. You just need to think about nothing for a while."
"Right. Think of nothing."
She stretched languidly Ccausing her shirt--which was rather thin in addition to being low-necked, he noticed--to ride up a little. "Aaah, I wish I could lie down too. I'm so tired after working so hard today."
Think of nothing think of nothing think of nothing...nothing.
"I'll leave a pen and paper on the table. When you think of something interesting, just write. Don't worry if it's perfect. You just need to get some of your ideas out."
"Okay. Okay."
"Well, I'll leave you to it then."
And abruptly, Hikaru was alone in the dark.
Okay. Thinking time. He was good at thinking, right? He was a pro go player, which meant he had to be good at thinking. Right.
Think think think.
All he had to do was fill a blank page with words, just like how he filled a go board with stones every day of his life. All of his games said something interesting. Like his game with Isumi-san last week, when he'd played a risky pincer, and Isumi had responded with a clever move that was an escape and attack at the same time. Or his game this morning, when his opponent had lured him into a trap, but Hikaru had turned the tables with a few unconventional hands. And best of all were his games with Touya, who--
Touya, who Hikaru hadn't played for days.
He couldn't help dwelling on their latest argument, which hadn't even been about a go game. But actually it was about go, wasn't it? About the games they hadn't been playing.
He remembered that brief moment of fear he'd seen in Touya's eyes, the fear that Hikaru would leave and not come back. Which was ridiculous, because Hikaru remembered how painful it had been to stop playing, like a part of his body had been cut off, or like being unable to speak or walk or see. He would never, ever stop playing again. Go was all that he was. It was his strength, his language, it was the only way he could connect to--
Of course. Hikaru couldn't write because there was no one to answer him. Touya, Isumi-san, Waya, everyone he ever played. They were part of his games, they were part of the patterns he wrote. But here all he had was a blank sheet of paper and his own mind, which was silent now but for his own thoughts. He didn't have anyone to speak to up there, not anymore.
He was supposed to write about an experience that changed his go. But what that really meant was...writing about that people who changed his go.
Sai, should I write about you?
But no. It was too risky, even if he worded things vaguely. People would be reading this essay. Touya might read it. If Hikaru won the contest, hundreds of people, maybe all around the world, would see his words and maybe make the connection to the games that Sai played online. If all the people with all the pieces to the puzzle started talking to each other...it was a good thing Touya seemed averse to talking. God, what if Touya started asking his father about the internet match with Sai? Or if Waya ever got over his weird, prickly dislike for Touya and the two of them started comparing notes? What if everyone started coming out of the woodwork to gossip about Hikaru, what if Kawai-san told people about his frenzied search for Sai in Innoshima, or Tsutsui and Kaga showed up at the institute and started blabbing about those games they'd seen Sai play through Hikaru's hands? What if, god forbid, Isumi-san told people he'd seen Hikaru cry over the goban that one time? But wait, everyone had seen him cry when he'd lost to Ko Yongha at the North Star Cup. Did they know why?
Sai. Sai. Sai. He couldn't write; his hand felt like it was paralyzed. Even if he left his name off the essay, everyone would know it was him. And everyone would see the ghost lingering behind his words, they would see Sai, and then Touya would...
But Touya had already found Sai, hadn't he? He had said to Hikaru, not long ago, there's another person inside of you , and the world had not ended.
Hikaru reached over to the table and picked up the pen and paper. He began to write, all the while feeling as if Touya were across from him, listening.
There was once an ordinary boy who lived in a minor suburb of Tokyo. He had no ambition, no dreams, but he was pretty happy, even though his best friend was a girl.
Then he met a go master named Fujiwara no Sai.
The pencil paused. There was something so weird about seeing Sai's name in print. Had he gotten the kanji right? He had never asked Sai how he wrote his name.
Sai was a total wimp and really girly sometimes. Come to think of it, the boy always seems to make friends with really girly people.
Hikaru laughed a little, blinking away the moisture that had come to his eyes. Touya always had to butt his way into things.
But Sai was very, very good at go. And he wanted to teach the boy how to play go too.
He put down the pencil, folded up the little square of paper and put it in his pocket.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Ichikawa took one look at his face as he came out of the back room and put a friendly arm on his shoulder.
"I think you needed that," she said, somehow coming off as motherly rather than patronizing, though Shindou would rather die than admit that out loud, mainly because Ichikawa-san was known to have a fit at anyone who suggested she was anything like their mother. Or anything over sixteen, for that matter.
"I think maybe I can do this now," he told her. "Thank you."
"Any time, Shindou-kun."
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
That night, Hikaru wrote down everything he could remember about Sai. It was a mess, it wasn't in any sort of order that made sense. But it was all true, ghosts and all.
And he realized, I definitely can't show this to anyone.
He was miserable yet oddly euphoric when he finally put himself to bed.
next part
by flonnebonne
GRAND SLAM WRITING JAM!
Weekly Go is celebrating its 15th Anniversary with an essay contest! The grand prize winner will receive a fabulous trip to Seoul, Korea! The topic of the essay: an experience that changed your go. All submissions must be typed and double-spaced.
"TOUYA!"
"Present," replied Touya, not looking up from his novel. "And you don't have to scream my name, I know what it is."
"Touya!" Hikaru yelled again at a slightly lower decibel level. "What's this about a contest? With a trip to Korea as the prize?"
"What about it?"
"Why didn't you tell me about it before?"
Touya flipped the page of his book. "I assumed you know how to read. They've been advertising it for the past four weeks now. But I guess I assumed too much."
Hikaru thwapped his copy of Weekly Go on the table, right beside Touya's pretentious-looking leather-bound novel. "But look at the ad, it's so poorly designed! The first prize is a free trip to Korea and it's written in tiny letters. They should have put that at the top instead of that "Grand Slam Writing Spam" title or whatever. Otherwise why would I pay attention to this kind of thing?"
Touya shifted in his seat in a way that meant he was irritated but too polite to show it to anyone but Hikaru. But because Hikaru knew how to read Touya's moods, he knew that when Touya shifted in his seat that way it meant he wanted Hikaru to know he was irritated, or possibly his butt was itchy.
"Maybe," said Touya very clearly, finally looking up from his book, "some people are participating in this contest for reasons other than wanting the prize. Maybe some people think that they have a story to tell--"
"Yeah, yeah, trip to Korea. I can go over there and kick Ko Yongha's ass. A few hundred times. Maybe play Suyon too. Priorities, Touya."
Touya opened his mouth, his mouth pursed in a way that meant something caustic was about to be said, but what came out was, "You should eat. Lunch break will be over soon."
Hikaru looked at his beef bowl and felt distinctly un-hungry. "Hey, why are you acting so weird? You're not shouting at me, even though I've been shouting at you."
"I am not acting weird. You know about the other prizes, right?"
"Of course I know." Hikaru scanned beyond the first two sentences of the contest ad. "Yeah...well, if that isn't the biggest let-down of a second place prize ever. A book of kifu."
"Kifu from the Golden Age of Go," Touya pointed out. "It's a new book. I thought you might be interested in it."
"But I already know all of Shuusaku's games by heart," said Hikaru, because it was the truth. "And anyway, it doesn't matter because I'm going to win the grand prize."
"Oh, really? I suppose you have some wonderful idea about what to write, then?"
Hikaru opened his mouth to respond, when it suddenly hit him that he would actually have to write in order to get that coveted ticket to Korea. Hadn't he escaped junior high so he wouldn't have to deal with this sort of thing anymore? The most complex thing he'd written lately was the "HA I KILLED UR ASS THT GAME" message he'd sent to Waya's cell phone last week. How the hell was he supposed to win a writing contest?
But Touya was looking at him in that straightforward way of his, a hint of challenge and disbelief and mockery and Kaio-brand snobbishness in the set of his chin and the depths of his eyes and most of all in the pinstripes of his god-awful tie. Hikaru wouldn't back down from a challenge like that.
"Shindou, why are you staring at my tie?"
"I am not staring at your tie."
"Why are you staring at my chest?"
"I am staring at your tie."
"Is that what you're going to write about?"
"No, in fact, I'm going to writing something great, so you can't be in it at all," Hikaru declared. He felt weird as soon as the words came out of his mouth, which probably meant he hadn't meant to say that at all, but he wasn't going to take it back now that Touya was looking at him like that. Like he wanted to kill him.
"Well," said Touya icily (he was the only person Hikaru knew who could actually be described as speaking icily) (and why the heck was he so mad?), "since that's how you feel, I suppose I should leave you to write in peace. Best of luck to you."
Touya stood up abruptly, which meant that his chest was suddenly level with Hikaru's face and generally waaaaaay too close for comfort. It was freaking him out, Touya in his calm-angry mode; he much preferred Touya in his explosive-angry mode. Made for better go.
"Hey!" said Hikaru as Touya neatly tucked his chair under the table and started walking away, long hair hiding his face. "You won't be seeing me until the contest is over! And you'll be seeing me with that ticket to Korea in hand!"
For a moment Touya stopped, his shoulders squared in that annoyingly proud way--but he said nothing, and continued on his way.
"Damn it," said Hikaru quietly after Touya had turned the corner. "What do I do now?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What do you mean you want my help?" Waya demanded.
Hikaru rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean exactly what I said."
"It's only eight days before the deadline. How could you not know about it? What did you think everyone was talking about this whole month? Why did you think Morishita-sensei's was muttering 'not finished, not finished' during study group?"
"I thought it was because he failed to make two eyes," Hikaru replied sheepishly. "Or that he had to do his taxes."
"It's not even tax time right now! I knew you were dense but this really takes the cake. And you think you have a chance at winning? You weren't even smart enough to know there's a contest going on!"
"But if you think you have a chance of winning, then I probably--"
Waya whacked him on the arm. "Don't compare me to you. For one thing, I already know what I'm going to write."
"Ah ha! So you haven't actually started yet!"
"But I know what I'm going to write!"
"But you haven't started yet!"
"But I know what I'm going to write!"
"What are you gonna write?"
"As if I'd tell you, you just want to steal my idea."
Hikaru put on his saddest, most pitiful expression, the one that always convinced his mom and Kawai-san to buy stuff for him.
"I'm not your mother," said Waya. "There's no way that's going to work. Just--stop it. Don't look at me like that. Don't. Okay, fine, I'll tell you, I'm writing about passing--Isumi-san!"
Hikaru gave him a bewildered look. "You're writing about passing Isumi-san? You're good and all, but I don't think you can say you've passed--"
Waya was waving at someone behind Hikaru. "Isumi-san, over here!"
"What are you two talking about?" Isumi wondered, walking up to them. "I could hear you from the game room."
"We were just talking about that contest in Weekly Go , which our young genius here--" Waya pointed his thumb at Hikaru, "--didn't know about at all."
"Hey!"
Isumi smiled indulgently at Hikaru, which was kind of annoying but less annoying than Waya was in general. "Do you have any ideas about what to write?"
Hikaru shook his head. "No, and stupid Waya here isn't helping me out any. Isumi-san, what are you writing about? About finally passing the pro exam?"
"No, not exactly," said Isumi thoughtfully. "I'm going to write about my trip to China."
"Oh, China," Waya commented, rather uselessly.
"Yang Hai-san and the others really helped me find my go there. Compared to that, the pro exam was almost just an afterthought. Writing this essay is going to be my small way of showing how much Yang Hai-san and the others helped me. And also, I think a lot of other people will write about the pro exam, so I wanted to write about something different. What about you, Waya?"
For some reason Waya was wincing. "Um, I haven't decided yet."
"What?" Hikaru blurted out. "But you said earlier--"
"Shindou, you have a brain the size of a takoyaki ball, you can't trust what you might think you don't remember me saying some thirty seconds ago."
"What?"
"My point exactly."
"Waya," chided Isumi.
"I know, stop picking on the village idiot."
"Hey!" Hikaru said for the second time this conversation. He really wished he were better at defending himself. Defending himself, defending himself...which was what Waya was trying to do by diverting the conversation from...
"I know what you're gonna write about!" he crowed at Waya. "I bet it's about the pro exam. And Isumi-san just said that that's a stupid idea!"
Waya's face was turning slightly pink. "Don't be stupid. My idea is way better than that."
"Then tell us what it is!"
"No, you'll just steal it."
"Waya," said Isumi, "if you don't have any ideas, I could help you come up with something."
Waya looked back and forth between the gleeful Hikaru and the concerned Isumi, obviously conflicted.
"Do you want me to come over to your place?" added Isumi.
"No, that's okay," Waya said slowly, sounding as if he was hating himself already for his decision. "I can do this on my own. I know I can. It's okay. I rely on you enough as it is."
Hikaru looked at him in astonishment. "Who are you and what have you done to Waya?"
"Shut up! You need to come up with an idea on your own too."
Isumi nodded. "It'll mean more if it comes from your own memories, rather than from someone else."
"That's true. I want to write something good," said Waya.
Hikaru eyed them warily. They were actually serious. He nodded as well, and said, "Me too. I'll write something good."
"Yeah," Waya agreed with a grin. "Shindou, let's promise each other that we'll finish this even if it kills us."
"Yes. Even if it kills us," Hikaru agreed.
As they gave each other high-fives, Waya added, "After all, what's a couple thousand words?"
***********************
Five days later
"I HATE THE WORLD," Hikaru scrawled in his notebook. "ESPECIALLY WAYA YOSHITAKA. COUPLE THOUSAND WORDS MY ASS."
Hikaru stared at the shiny new black notebook he'd bought especially for this goddamn essay. The only thing he'd written in it were curses against the world at large and against a few people in particular. He looked at the list of names he'd written (Touya and Waya's names appeared multiple times) and could feel the death wishes welling up in him. Man, who knew that the act of writing could make a person feel so murderous? If only Sai had been a shinigami...
Hikaru was (thankfully) pulled out of his homicidal funk by his cell phone, which was beeping out a Ken Hirai song, which meant that Waya had once again secretly reprogrammed his phone to be a wussy piece of junk. Hikaru ignored the call and wrote down five more sentences about Waya in the black notebook.
Waya Yoshitaka dies of carpal tunnel syndrome because he wasted his time performing cell phone piracy when he was supposed to be working on his essay. Waya Yoshitaka dies via piracy in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. Waya Yoshitaka dies by ass piracy. Waya Yoshitaka dies by god I hate this song.
Ken Hirai would not shut up. Hikaru finally snatched up his cell phone and hit the answer button. "Hello?!" he yelled.
"...Hikaru? This is Akari. Um, where are you? You were supposed to come over and play a tutoring game with me."
"I was?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Oh crap! I'm so sorry, Akari, I totally forgot! You should have reminded me."
"I'm not your mother."
"Yeah, she didn't remind me either."
He heard a huffing sound from her end, and he could imagine her twisting her fingers in her hair in annoyance. "Anyway," she said, "it's not like I live very far from you. You can still come over and only be...let's see, forty-five minutes late."
Hikaru looked at the clock. Eight forty-four in the evening. He looked at his notebook. About five hundred words, all death threats. "I'm sorry, Akari...the reason I forgot about our game was because there's this writing contest that Weekly Go is putting on, and--"
"Oh, I know about that. I've already finished mine."
"You WHAT?"
"I had some free time between fourth and fifth period today."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No. Well, yes, I'm kidding about finishing it between fourth and fifth period, but I am finished."
"I meant whether you were kidding about entering the contest thing."
He heard another huff through the phone. "Just because I'm not a pro doesn't mean I don't have some good stories to tell. And I actually pay attention during Japanese class, so I know a lot of big words, unlike you."
"What did you write about?"
"About the Haze Go Club, of course. About how Tsutsui-senpai started everything on his own, and how he pulled you in, then me and Kumiko, and Mitani-kun, Kaneko-san, Koike-kun...we had some good times together."
"Huh, that sure takes me back. It actually sounds like a pretty good essay topic. Maybe I should--"
"Don't you dare steal my idea."
"I was just kidding."
"Sure you were. Why would you want to write about the Haze Go Club anyway? Aren't you going to write about Touya Akira?"
"Why would I write about him?" Hikaru asked coldly.
There was a pause on the other end, before Akari said, "Oh, I see. It's that time of month again."
"What's that supposed to mean!?"
"You guys are having a spat, right? You should really go make up with him, it'll make you feel better."
"We are not having a spat. He mortally offended me--"
"Oh really? What did he say to mortally offend you?"
Hikaru tried to think back to their last conversation, to whatever thoughtless, elitist remark Touya had thrown at him this time, but the only offensive thing he could remember was Touya's bee-stripe tie and purple suit combination.
"Look, he was pretty horrible that day, okay? Anyway, I need to get writing, Akari."
"I really mean it, Hikaru, you should go make up with Touya. It'll cut down on both our cell phone bills if I don't need to be your therapist all the time."
"Bye, Akari."
"Good luck, Hikaru."
+++++++++++++++++++
The next day
"God, that game took forever," Hikaru groaned.
"Mine too," concurred Waya.
"I don't have time to waste, I need to go work on my essay."
"How much have you written?"
"Uh..."
Hikaru had not written anything after getting off the phone with Akari the night before. He'd been too depressed after hearing that Akari had already finished her essay. He had lost to Akari!
"Uh, I've been working on it but I haven't been making much headway. There's just too much pressure."
"I know! Why did they give us so little time? It's not fair."
"We're busy people, with busy schedules!"
"Every minute of every day is busy busy busy!"
"Hey," Honda poked his head into the lobby, "you guys look like you're free, want to go get something to eat?"
"Yeah, sure," said Waya. "You coming, Shindou?"
"Yeah."
"Great," said Honda. "Let me just go get some other people."
Hikaru was pleasantly surprised when Honda came back with Nase, Komiya and Fuku in tow. He was also pleasantly surprised when they were able to secure their favourite table at the local NcDonalds. He was not so pleasantly surprised when the topic of the Weekly Go contest came up.
"I'm almost done!" Fuku informed them while happily dipping his fries in mayonnaise. "I'm writing about the first time I saw my uncle play go. He's so cool! He plays really fast but he doesn't make any mistakes, except this one time when he played a hane when he meant to play a hane-dashi. And another time he missed an atari. And another time he knocked over his captured stones and totally messed up the board. But other than that he's really good!"
Waya groaned. "A speed player. Why am I not surprised. Nase, what about you, you writing anything?"
Nase took a sip of her cola and shook her head. "No, I don't have time for it, as much as I'd like to. It's not super busy at school yet, but I really have to watch my grades."
"I remember how that feels," Honda sighed.
"I'm the same as Nase," Komiya chimed in, "except that I don't really care about the contest. I do too much writing in Japanese class as it is."
"Honda-san, what about you?" asked Hikaru.
Honda shuffled in his vinyl seat guiltily. "I haven't decided yet."
"What?"
"What do you mean you haven't decided yet?"
"Isn't it due in two days?"
"But I don't have any good ideas yet, and I really don't want to write something second-rate," said Honda. "I was thinking of writing about playing against Yashiro Kiyoharu for the first time, when he used a first-hand tengen, but that was a pretty bad loss for me and I don't think it's interesting enough."
"There's just so much pressure to impress," grumbled Hikaru, echoing his earlier conversation with Waya. Yeah, it was the pressure's fault, not his.
"Well, if you don't have anything to write about, then don't write," Waya said around the cheeseburger he was stuffing in his mouth.
"But everyone else is doing it," Hikaru replied.
"Not everybody," said Nase.
"Yeah, what are we, chopped liver?" Komiya added. "I don't see what the big deal is anyway."
"Well," said Fuku, "I don't know if this is going to make sense, but it was kind of...fun being under all this pressure to write? There's kind of this feeling of us all being in it together. And it's even more fun now that I've finished and I can watch everyone else trying to finish."
"Glad you enjoy our suffering," muttered Hikaru.
Komiya gave Fuku a dubious look. "What, so it's a big bonding experience or something?"
"I don't agree with that," put in Honda.
Nase tapped her fingers on the table. "I can sort of see what Fuku means, even though I'm an 'outsider.' We hardly ever see you guys anymore since you turned pro, outside of Waya's study groups--Waya, you should really start those up again--but then you invited us out today, Honda-san, probably so you could procrastinate. It was really nice of you."
Honda's face abruptly turned pink. "You're welcome."
"Wait," said Komiya, "so you're all bonded together in the act of procrastination?"
Hikaru fidgeted in his seat. That was way too accurate for his tastes.
"The way you say it makes it sound so silly," said Nase, smiling. "Bonded together in the act of procrastination."
Waya finally shoved the last bit of his burger in his mouth. "Bonding. Yeah right. You know that we're all going to be sitting alone in our apartments as usual after this."
"Maybe you just need to get out more," suggested Komiya.
"Maybe you need a bigger apartment, so people would actually want to visit you."
"A fridge would be nice too."
"Air conditioning."
"Heat in the winter."
"Hell yeah, it's like an icebox in there."
"And yet the soft drinks are always mysteriously lukewarm."
Waya exploded in sudden wrath, "What is this, rag-on-Waya day? No wonder I wanted to become a pro so much, it was so I could get away from you people!"
"Or maybe you just wanted to get away from Fuku beating you all the time."
"Fuku did not beat me all the time," Waya sulked. "I beat him once."
"Anyway ," said Nase, "getting back to the contest, shouldn't you guys be panicking?"
Waya stole one of her fries. "Stop acting so casual just because you decided not to enter."
"I'm just worried that you'll try to do it all at the last minute. Especially Hikaru."
"That's not fair," Hikaru protested. "Why does everyone assume I don't know what I'm doing?"
Everyone just kind of stared at him. Then they all started laughing. Fuku sprayed half-chewed chicken nuggets all over Waya's shirt.
"Shindou," began Nase, one hand covering her mouth delicately, "no offense, but you were always telling us about your test scores in junior high. Waya, stop throttling Fuku."
"We used to take bets on how low your scores could get," Honda admitted with a grin. "I won a bundle of money when you got seven percent on a math test."
"I hate you all," said Hikaru darkly. It wasn't his fault he'd done so badly in math. Sai had had no head for modern math systems.
"The point is," said Komiya, "you should maybe be worrying a bit. What with there being only two days left. Honda-san and Waya too."
Waya unwrapped his fingers from Fuku's throat. "Who says I'm not worrying?"
"The fact that you're hanging out here with us says it all, don't you think??"
Hikaru looked at Waya who looked at Honda who looked at Hikaru, who felt like he was playing a mental game of rock-paper-scissors. "Maybe we're just looking for inspiration," he suggested weakly.
"Inspiration?" said Nase, surprised. "If you're looking for inspiration, then why aren't you at Touya-san's go salon?"
Hikaru's mood immediately darkened. "My life doesn't revolve around Touya Akira," he informed her loftily.
"Yes, it does," said Waya. "It totally does."
"I never actually said anything about Touya Akira," Nase added with an annoyingly cute smile. "You brought him up yourself. It's so sweet."
Hikaru scrunched up his hamburger wrapper and aimed it at Waya's head, because it just wouldn't be nice to hit Nase. The ball ended up hitting Fuku instead.
"Ow!"
"I've got to go now," said Hikaru, pushing himself out of his seat. "I guess you're right--I should be writing. And you guys just invited me out to make fun of me."
"He finally figures it out," said Komiya.
"I'm sorry, Shindou, you just make it so easy," apologized Nase, still smiling.
"And you all make my life so difficult."
In response, Nase giggled and leaned across Honda (who blushed madly) to say to Hikaru, soto voice, "You'll be fine, you just need some inspiration. "
He gave her a blank look.
"Inspiration," she said, not-so-quietly this time. "You know where to go for that."
The blankness grew.
"Touya Akira's salon," she huffed, not-at-all quietly this time. She gave him a strong push towards the restaurant doors. "Stop being a stubborn boy and get over there already."
"There's no way I'm going there!" Hikaru yelled back.
"Thank you for eating at NcDonalds," said a sales clerk way too cheerfully. Hikaru stared at the pinstripes of her uniform as he walked out the door.
"No way in hell," he muttered.
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Hikaru found himself in front of hell.
He'd only opted for Nase's solution after many long, long nano-seconds of careful consideration. He'd wanted to go to his grandfather's house instead, where Sai's goban still rested, but no one had picked up the phone when he called. And he knew in his heart that things hadn't truly started there, his heart hadn't been stolen by go in that attic. The place where it had really begun was...here.
He just hoped Touya wasn't in.
Hikaru stole into the salon with the liquid footsteps of a ninja.
"If it isn't Shindou!" yelled one of the patrons.
"Welcome, Hikaru-kun!" greeted Ichikawa.
"I thought you weren't going to see me anymore," said a cool, familiar voice.
Hikaru heard Touya's snotty little comment before he saw his snotty purple suit. "Were you waiting to ambush me or something?" he huffed.
"No, of course not."
Touya was sitting at a table near the door today instead of his usual place near the back. The chair across from him was empty.
"You don't even have an opponent, you're just playing with the stones," Hikaru accused. He strode to the table and tried to read the shape on the board. It looked like a waffle. And Touya's cheeks were a little pink even, like he'd been arranging that waffle just for Hikaru, a pretty little housewife in a lavender apron. Where the hell did that thought come from?
"Your game sucks," said Hikaru, in a desperate attempt at normalcy.
"Be quiet," said Touya, who was as of yet still too polite to say "shut up" in front of the customers. The shut ups would come later. "You're the one who came back to me when you said that you wouldn't. You don't have the right to act high and mighty."
Now it was Hikaru's turn to flush. "I didn't come here to see you. This isn't your private go salon. I can come here and not talk to you if I want to."
"But you're talking to me," Touya pointed out.
"You started it."
"You didn't have to answer."
Hikaru didn't let the words that were floating in his brain come out of his mouth: But I always answer you.
Touya seemed to notice Hikaru's brain-mouth communication breakdown, because he tilted his head just enough to reveal what a smug bastard he was, not-so-deep-down. "Did you come to ask for my help with your essay? I would be glad to check over your grammar for you."
"No, I don't need your help. I just wanted to come here to find the right atmosphere, help me generate some ideas."
"Don't tell me you haven't even started yet?"
Hikaru was proud of the fact that he had gotten so used to lying about his essay over the past few days that he didn't even blink an eye at Touya's accusation.
"On the contrary, I'm almost done," he said calmly, and mentally added almost done digging myself into the biggest hole ever discovered since someone tried to measure the size of Ayumi Hamasaki's brain. "Yeah, I'm doing great."
"Really," Touya replied dispassionately, clearly skeptical. "Well, why don't you sit down and tell me about it."
Hikaru looked at the goban. It looked so tempting, despite its current waffly disposition. He forced himself to turn his nose up into the air. "I said you wouldn't be seeing me until after the contest is over, and I meant it."
"I can see you right now."
"Of course you can, you're a stalker."
"This is my father's go salon. I have every right to be here."
"And I'm a paying customer, I have every right to be here too."
Touya turned his head toward the front counter. "Ichikawa-san, has Shindou paid the entrance fee?"
Ichikawa looked away from the customer she was talking to. "No, of course not. He never does."
"Thank you." Touya turned back to Hikaru, an expectant look on his face.
"That's not the point," said Hikaru with a lot more bluster than me felt. "The point is that you should stop acting so superior just because you think you can write better than me. So you went to Kaio, everyone knows you went to Kaio, you still dress like you're trying to make up for some kind of psychological problem you got from going to Kaio. You know Kaio's uniforms always made you look like you escaped from a nuthouse, right?"
Touya half-stood up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table. Hikaru had finally reached the threshold of Touya's anger.
"Stop acting like a five year old!" Touya said loudly, not quite shouting yet. "Just admit you need help and I'll help you!"
"I don't need your help!"
"Boys!" called Ichikawa. "If you're gonna do your thing together, can you not be too loud today?"
"We are not doing anything together!" Hikaru and Touya yelled back at the same time.
She ignored them and began issuing the five minute warning signal to the remaining customers, who hardly needed to be told when to escape from the imminent Hikaru-Touya meltdown.
Hikaru crossed his arms and glared at Touya. "Now look at what you've done."
"I haven't done anything. I've just been minding my own business. It's you who barged in here and started making so much noise, like you always do!"
"You're making just as much noise!"
"Because you keep pretending that you didn't come here to see me!"
He couldn't really deny that, especially not with his fingers itching to clear the board, take the stones in hand, slam them in the spots he knew would drive Touya crazy. He looked at Touya, who was breathing hard, heat flushing his face. It made Hikaru's heart beat harder too. Suddenly he had a sudden vision of himself lunging across the goban, grabbing Touya by the tie, stones flying everywhere, pulling him to the ground and pinning him, making him flush too, straddling that skinny body of his and punching the living daylights out of him. Yes, that would totally make Hikaru's day.
But Touya seemed to be getting control of himself. He sat down and said, voice low, "Shindou, why did you come here, if not to play me?"
Hikaru did not know what to say. He only knew that his hands were so, so itchy for the stones. He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, then said, "I have to leave."
There was a flicker of fear in Touya's eyes, and Hikaru realized with a tiny pang of guilt that he was always leaving Touya like this, without answers. He said hastily, "I'm not gonna disappear, I'm just gonna go write."
"Did you find what you were looking for here?"
He shook his head. "No. I guess I'll have to look somewhere else."
"Fine," said Touya. "See you after it's over."
"Yeah."
Hikaru took his hand off the table and made his way toward the door.
"Bye," he waved to Ichikawa as he was passing by.
"Wait," she said. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You need ideas for the writing contest, right? Could I try to help you out?"
Hikaru paused. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"Come with me." She beckoned him to follow her through the door behind the counter. He had never been in that room before. He had never really said more than five words at a time to Ichikawa, come to think of it.
What the hell, he thought as he followed her in. It couldn't hurt at this point.
%_%_%_%_%_%_%_%_
"Now, just lie down and relax," said Ichikawa soothingly. She was wearing a rather low-necked shirt today, Hikaru noticed as she leaned over to push him gently onto the couch. Boom chika chika wow wow went the imaginary jukebox in his head.
Relax, he told himself sternly. Think about something stupid to distract him, like Touya. Stupid Touya making a waffle for him. In a lavender apron. Bow wow chika chika wow wow. Oh god, Hikaru was going insane.
Ichikawa was closing the blinds. "I'm just going to make this room nice and dark to set the mood," she explained. Bow wow chika chika WOW WOW. "I want you to let your mind wander. Dream up crazy things, things you wouldn't normally think of. Visualize." Touya in a lavender apron. Ichikawa helping him with the waffle iron. Batter dripping everywhere. Agh. "Some people need to have lots of stimuli in order to come up with anything, but I think you're an overstimulated boy already." You got that right. "You have a story in you, you just need to sit down and let it come out. Or just lie down, rather." She sat down next to him on the couch.
Oh god. "I, uh, don't see exactly how--"
"Trust me." She winked at him. "I was the president of the art club in high school, I know all about having a creative block. You just need to think about nothing for a while."
"Right. Think of nothing."
She stretched languidly Ccausing her shirt--which was rather thin in addition to being low-necked, he noticed--to ride up a little. "Aaah, I wish I could lie down too. I'm so tired after working so hard today."
Think of nothing think of nothing think of nothing...nothing.
"I'll leave a pen and paper on the table. When you think of something interesting, just write. Don't worry if it's perfect. You just need to get some of your ideas out."
"Okay. Okay."
"Well, I'll leave you to it then."
And abruptly, Hikaru was alone in the dark.
Okay. Thinking time. He was good at thinking, right? He was a pro go player, which meant he had to be good at thinking. Right.
Think think think.
All he had to do was fill a blank page with words, just like how he filled a go board with stones every day of his life. All of his games said something interesting. Like his game with Isumi-san last week, when he'd played a risky pincer, and Isumi had responded with a clever move that was an escape and attack at the same time. Or his game this morning, when his opponent had lured him into a trap, but Hikaru had turned the tables with a few unconventional hands. And best of all were his games with Touya, who--
Touya, who Hikaru hadn't played for days.
He couldn't help dwelling on their latest argument, which hadn't even been about a go game. But actually it was about go, wasn't it? About the games they hadn't been playing.
He remembered that brief moment of fear he'd seen in Touya's eyes, the fear that Hikaru would leave and not come back. Which was ridiculous, because Hikaru remembered how painful it had been to stop playing, like a part of his body had been cut off, or like being unable to speak or walk or see. He would never, ever stop playing again. Go was all that he was. It was his strength, his language, it was the only way he could connect to--
Of course. Hikaru couldn't write because there was no one to answer him. Touya, Isumi-san, Waya, everyone he ever played. They were part of his games, they were part of the patterns he wrote. But here all he had was a blank sheet of paper and his own mind, which was silent now but for his own thoughts. He didn't have anyone to speak to up there, not anymore.
He was supposed to write about an experience that changed his go. But what that really meant was...writing about that people who changed his go.
Sai, should I write about you?
But no. It was too risky, even if he worded things vaguely. People would be reading this essay. Touya might read it. If Hikaru won the contest, hundreds of people, maybe all around the world, would see his words and maybe make the connection to the games that Sai played online. If all the people with all the pieces to the puzzle started talking to each other...it was a good thing Touya seemed averse to talking. God, what if Touya started asking his father about the internet match with Sai? Or if Waya ever got over his weird, prickly dislike for Touya and the two of them started comparing notes? What if everyone started coming out of the woodwork to gossip about Hikaru, what if Kawai-san told people about his frenzied search for Sai in Innoshima, or Tsutsui and Kaga showed up at the institute and started blabbing about those games they'd seen Sai play through Hikaru's hands? What if, god forbid, Isumi-san told people he'd seen Hikaru cry over the goban that one time? But wait, everyone had seen him cry when he'd lost to Ko Yongha at the North Star Cup. Did they know why?
Sai. Sai. Sai. He couldn't write; his hand felt like it was paralyzed. Even if he left his name off the essay, everyone would know it was him. And everyone would see the ghost lingering behind his words, they would see Sai, and then Touya would...
But Touya had already found Sai, hadn't he? He had said to Hikaru, not long ago, there's another person inside of you , and the world had not ended.
Hikaru reached over to the table and picked up the pen and paper. He began to write, all the while feeling as if Touya were across from him, listening.
There was once an ordinary boy who lived in a minor suburb of Tokyo. He had no ambition, no dreams, but he was pretty happy, even though his best friend was a girl.
Then he met a go master named Fujiwara no Sai.
The pencil paused. There was something so weird about seeing Sai's name in print. Had he gotten the kanji right? He had never asked Sai how he wrote his name.
Sai was a total wimp and really girly sometimes. Come to think of it, the boy always seems to make friends with really girly people.
Hikaru laughed a little, blinking away the moisture that had come to his eyes. Touya always had to butt his way into things.
But Sai was very, very good at go. And he wanted to teach the boy how to play go too.
He put down the pencil, folded up the little square of paper and put it in his pocket.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Ichikawa took one look at his face as he came out of the back room and put a friendly arm on his shoulder.
"I think you needed that," she said, somehow coming off as motherly rather than patronizing, though Shindou would rather die than admit that out loud, mainly because Ichikawa-san was known to have a fit at anyone who suggested she was anything like their mother. Or anything over sixteen, for that matter.
"I think maybe I can do this now," he told her. "Thank you."
"Any time, Shindou-kun."
^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^_^
That night, Hikaru wrote down everything he could remember about Sai. It was a mess, it wasn't in any sort of order that made sense. But it was all true, ghosts and all.
And he realized, I definitely can't show this to anyone.
He was miserable yet oddly euphoric when he finally put himself to bed.
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