Zero wo te ni shita omae wa tsuyoku because I love you...
Title: The Brief and Abridged History of Ko Yongha
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/humor/occasional angst
Pairings: Yongha/Ogata, Yongha/Hikaru, Yongha/Yashiro
Wordcount: 9,037
Description: Ko Yongha, 2002-2010.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hikago. I wish I did. Or at least Yongha. I'd totally settle for just Yongha, but I don't own him either.
Notes: blind_go reveals are up at last, and thus, once again, I present to you a very mildly edited version of my entry! I've sworn for half a year or more that I would do this, and so I finally have, because clearly Yongha deserves all sorts of fandom love and he's not been getting it. I love this character to death and back again. And yes, the observant (and even the not-so-observant) reader will note that this is a companion piece to Two of Five.
~1986-2002~
Ko Yongha has an enviable existence by all accounts, as he has always been allowed practically anything that money can buy. He is an only child, and his parents' involvement in his life is mostly limited to an occasional public appearance and a great deal of money spent to make sure they can always brag about his accomplishments at parties. He shows a keen mind for strategy at a young age; immediately, there are baduk lessons, complete with a 7-dan of some renown as a private tutor. Fortunately, he likes the game, so he chooses to apply himself; his achievements are many and keep his parents satisfied and out of his hair, and he grows up mostly on his own terms, doing always and only what pleases him.
He knows he is an exceptionally pretty child-his mother is constantly fussing over him for photographs, and his hair is allowed to grow glossy and long. When he is not quite a child any longer, the prettiness turns him nearly irresistible, and he knows this too, and abuses the fact ruthlessly. He starts with bored, rich, older females who have nothing better to do. Unfortunately, most of them have an irrational urge to feed him; because he doesn't particularly fancy being someone's surrogate child (two parents, uninvolved as they are, have always been quite enough in his opinion), he soon moves on to bored, rich, older men, who are less likely to give him pet names and treat him like some sort of poodle.
He is beautifully polite to his parents' friends and makes for pleasant company. He merely tolerates school but has an excellent memory, so when required to, he can talk about history and literature and other such subjects for hours and generally present the image of a civilized young man of good family. Most of the time, however, he is marvelously cocky with a devil-may-care sort of attitude that appeals to his preferred companions. He has no shame in the bedroom or anywhere else (no such virtue has ever been instilled in him) and that makes him a particular favorite.
He lives just as he pleases and that is perfectly good enough for him-at least until the first Hokuto Cup, which changes a great deal in his life, because at the Hokuto Cup he encounters Shindou Hikaru. From that short trip to Japan, the next four years of his life spring on their own.
~2002~
He enjoys taunting Shindou at first because it is so amusingly simple. He likes stirring things up and being the center of attention, and Shindou is the perfect target-easy to rile up, easier still to keep in a state of simmering anger and near-panic. So Shindou is an amusement-at least until he meets this upstart on the goban and discovers that there is a great deal more to him than meets the eye. The furious, somewhat inhuman eyes that meet his are fascinating and certainly DIFFERENT. He feels the warmth spread through him as he considers the possibilities-and beats Shindou into the ground despite his mad efforts to catch up.
He sees quite a bit of Shindou-and Touya, and the third one, whose name he doesn't bother learning at the time-over the course of the next few days, and the fascination takes root. He watches as Shindou has an epic game with Suyong, though it's lacking the flash and fire Yongha saw him exhibit in the official match. Playing the way he had then, he should take Suyong's head off by midgame; instead, he wins, but the game takes about half an hour longer than Yongha expects it to. Once the game is over and Suyong's head is properly bowed, Shindou sits back on his heels with a bright grin. "How's THAT for you?" he asks, and looks at Yongha with a challenging look which is easy to understand despite the language barrier.
A few moments of silence later, one of the observers pipes in helpfully, "He wants to know what you thought of the game."
Yongha looks at the skillful layout of stones on the board, smiles, and says, "You can tell him that 15-6 in midgame was the most foolish move I have ever seen. If he had been playing me, I would have destroyed him there." Silence. Touya looks startled, then thoughtful. "Go on," Yongha says to the upstart who has decided to take it upon himself to translate. "He wanted to know what I thought, didn't he?"
The boy squirms under his gaze, then says something in halting Japanese. Immediately, Shindou is on his feet, red with fury, glaring, clearly spoiling for a fight. Touya grabs his arm, obviously intending to stop him, but that doesn't halt the killing looks. Yongha never stops smiling, thinking that this is more like it, the furious dragon eyes he saw during the match, attention aimed solely at him. He decides he likes Shindou better like this, with single-minded focus, and resolves to keep him this way as long as possible.
He inclines his head, like a king to one of his lowliest subjects, and says, "If you'll excuse me, I skipped lunch." Shindou shouts after him, but he ignores it.
***
He manages an informal match with Touya the next day before they leave, and wins it by some miracle he isn't certain of. It is Shindou's face he remembers from that match, though-tense and worried, as though much more is riding on the outcome of the game than a head bowed in surrender. He seems to take Touya's loss as a personal affront. After he wins, Yongha tests Shindou's control by smirking at him, and sure enough, just that easily his color is up and he lets loose a long, incomprehensible string of Japanese.
"Well," Yongha says to Touya, who looks humiliated by Shindou's outburst. "That was fun."
"Excuse him, please," Touya says in his textbook Korean, and stands to grab Shindou by the wrist and drag him from the room.
"Oi." Yongha turns to see the third Japanese boy-Ya-something or other; he doesn't really care one way or another-scowling at him. "What about me?"
Yongha looks at questioningly at Suyong, who sighs dramatically and translates, "I think he wants to play with you."
Yongha examines the slightly slouched, scowling form of the Japanese player, then shrugs and tells Suyong, "You can tell him he's not worth my time." He turns and saunters out in the direction taken by Touya and Shindou.
"Yongha! Hey YONGHA, YOU RUDE, IMPOLITE-"
He cuts off Suyong's furious tirade with a shut door and a laugh.
***
He has never really liked school, but when he gets back from Japan, he hires a tutor and buys Japanese phrasebooks. "What are you DOING?" asks a bewildered Suyong when he catches him at it one afternoon between matches.
"Studying so you no have to deliver my messages," Yongha tells him in carefully slow Japanese, never looking up from his book.
Suyong shakes his head and stands there gaping like a fish for a few moments before turning on his heel and leaving.
~2003~
The Hokuto Cup sponsors seem to be having financial difficulties and the tournament is being postponed for an indefinite amount of time. There will be no press coverage and no specially rented hall, but the plane tickets have been bought, and so after considering awhile, their chaperones decide they will go, anyway. His Japanese is not quite what he wishes at that point, but he feels better equipped than he did a year ago.
"I can't believe we're wasting match time to go to Japan and be TOURISTS," Ifruhan says bitterly as their plane takes off. "I don't know why we would WANT to go see Mount Fuji."
Personally, Yongha is pretty sure he's only bitter because Suyong has been named second board in his place, but he doesn't want to argue with someone he'll be sitting next to for the next few hours, so he graciously doesn't mention it. Instead he turns to Suyong and says, in Japanese, "I hope he doesn't be like that whole trip."
"Too many verbs," Suyong tells him, then adds, "but you're getting better."
"Good enough for now," Yongha tells him, and thinks he really should get a better tutor when he gets home.
"At least you can't steal my game with Shindou this time," Suyong says, vastly satisfied that he and his Japanese rival will finally be playing the same position.
If Suyong is moving up in the world, Shindou has moved down-probably where he belongs, but Yongha won't deny he's a little disappointed, anyway. Because it's disappointing and because Suyong probably expects him to, he teases, "Maybe you actually win it this time?"
"I CAN TOO WIN A GAME WITH SHINDOU!"
"I will believe only when I see it happen," Yongha tells him, content to have played his usual role of provocateur. "Too bad the match is not…" he searches for the correct word and finally settles on, "official. Even when you lose to Shindou, I will win, and I am thinking Ifruhan is so angry he will not be losing! Good win for Korea, if someone recorded it."
"His opponent is not that easy," Suyong says. "Remember, I played him."
"If you can win him last year, I don't think Ifruhan will be having so many problems," Yongha says flippantly.
"You can stop insulting me, and your grammar is awful," Suyong tells him crossly.
"WILL YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK!" exclaims Ifruhan.
"Actually, you're right here, so it's hardly behind your back," Yongha points out. "And Suyong is only saying that he thinks you will have trouble with your opponent tomorrow afternoon." That seed being planted, he settles back contentedly to watch his teammates bicker.
***
In revenge, Ifruhan snores. Like a freight train.
This is a fact that makes any trip with him pure hell, in Yongha's opinion. He tries and fails to get Suyong as a roommate-the younger boy is placed with one of the chaperones and so Yongha is wide awake long before any reasonable person should be, staring at the ceiling of his hotel room in Tokyo, listening to Ifruhan snore and hating life a little bit. He contemplates getting up and kicking him awake, but then the snoring will in all likelihood turn to whining, and he's not sure how much better that will be.
Accordingly, he rises, dresses, does a little damage control on his hair, and heads downstairs. No one else is awake yet; after a few moments of consideration he skips breakfast and heads outside instead, figuring that the fresh air will do his aching head more good than food at this hour.
The hotel is located fairly near the Nihon Kiin according to the explanations given to them by their host the evening before. After a few wrong turns, Yongha manages to find it, an unimposing building with a sign he cannot read, except the familiar Chinese character for Go. He goes inside, smiles brilliantly at the receptionist (who immediately looks much less sleepy) and heads towards the stairs.
He spends an hour exploring the building, peeks in on a class of children who could use better discipline, picks up a can of coffee from the vending machine and settles in the open game room across from a wizened old man who might manage to give him a decent warm-up game.
His cell phone starts vibrating insistently about half an hour into it. With a sigh, he looks at the call screen and notes it is Kim-seonsaengnim, the trip chaperone. He gives an apologetic shrug to his opponent and clicks the phone on. "Yes?"
He then proceeds to hold the receiver a few centimeters from his face as it explodes with frantic shouting. When the man seems to have worn himself out, Yongha brings the phone back to his ear. "I haven't been kidnapped, I haven't been arrested, and I don't know WHY you would think either of these things is likely," he says crossly. "I'm playing a game."
"I KNOW you," says the man on the other end of the line. "Will you PLEASE try not to make an international incident this time? We were apologizing for you for weeks after, last time, and-"
"I'm playing a GAME," Yongha says, exasperated because for once he has not done anything deserving of the scolding. "And I can't help it if these people are so touchy." Angry silence tells him he has not won his case. "I'll be good," he says. "I won't provoke anyone before lunch. I am, however, being very rude to my opponent by continuing this conversation, so I am going to hang up now." He does so, ignores the subsequent vibrating, apologizes to the other player, and takes up another stone.
***
Another hour after that he wanders back out into the hallway in search of more coffee and potentially lunch before the afternoon match. He steps into the elevator and hits the ground floor button, but before the doors can close, someone shoves his arm in, causing the elevator to beep in annoyance and open again. The boy who enters is glaring bloody murder, and after a moment Yongha recalls who he is. He even bows his head a little, because he has promised to be good, after all, but the glaring doesn't abate.
"You. You're the bastard who didn't think I was worth playing last time you were here."
Yongha feigns incomprehension, hoping this will make the nuisance go away. This tactic, however, fails spectacularly, as the Japanese pro simply takes this as an invitation to vent.
"Personally, I don't think you're worth ANY of our time. And I hope Touya kicks your ASS today, though I'd rather do it myself. Shindou told me to get in line."
"I'm sure it's easy to be brave when you think I don't understand you," Yongha tells him in Korean.
The glare intensifies, and he doesn't need to speak perfect Japanese to understand the venom in the other's words when he responds, predictably, with: "What? Are you insulting me? You're totally insulting me. You think you're SO great, don't you? Man, you have hair like a GIRL, and look at you, you probably wear MASCARA or something, and-"
He goes on in this vein for a few seconds more as the door closes, and really, Yongha thinks, he's perfectly justified in shutting him up the simplest way he knows how.
What he doesn't quite expect is that after the typical moment of shock, the little upstart decides to kiss him back, and is generally not fighting the idea of being pinned to the elevator wall. In fact, he really seems to be getting into it, and when the elevator dings to a stop, Yongha is rather reluctant to step back. He does, though, running his tongue over his lower lip, thinking it will probably swell a little from the particularly enthusiastic bite it has just received. The Japanese player is panting for breath and looking at him with wild eyes as the elevator door opens, so Yongha takes the opportunity to tell him, "You talk too much," in Japanese which elicits no coherent response-proving that his little experiment is clearly a brilliant success. He wonders if it would work half so well on one of Shindou's rampages.
As he leaves the building and goes into a nearby ramen stand he noted this morning, he realizes that those fifteen or so seconds pretty much constitute a complete breaking of his promise not to provoke anyone before lunch. Fortunately, it isn't as though anyone will ever know.
***
The game that afternoon is almost anti-climactic, especially because the Korean team suffers a complete loss. He isn't too upset over it, though, because his game against Touya was a very good one. Besides, he's having a hard time not laughing over the fact that both the second and third boards of the Japanese team are giving him dirty looks now; he thinks it's just a matter of time before polite Touya succumbs to the communal hatred too. "Thank you for the game," Touya tells him.
"You don't have to bother; the crazy bastard speaks Japanese." If looks could kill, Yongha thinks, he would definitely be in danger right about now. In response, he only grins.
"Yashiro-kun!" exclaims a nervous-looking older man, "Language!"
"Thank you for the game," Yongha replies demurely. "And for such beautiful... hospitality." He proceeds to say nothing else while Yashiro-whose name he makes a point to remember this time-is dragged spluttering out of the room by the older Japanese pro, who has turned an interesting shade of purple with rage.
***
There is a small banquet that night, hosted by the Kiin in a sad attempt to make the day look a little more festive and a little less like Korea has come a long way for a pickup game. It is only remarkable because it offers the chance to meet and size up a few of the high-level Japanese pros. Most of them have clearly forgotten how to enjoy themselves and have very little use for time not spent at the goban, much like their Korean counterparts, but he does manage to make one interesting connection.
Ogata Seiji is the sort of man that Yongha has a great deal of experience leading around on an implicit leash. There is something a little sleazy about him at first glance, something a little suspicious in the pristine whiteness of his suit and the carefully aloof politeness of his smile. Yongha notes appreciation in his eyes when they are introduced and allows a slow smile to come across his face, just a little taunting, feeling very comfortable with himself and the approving gaze which is skimming over all sorts of inappropriate places.
Touya, who has just introduced them, notices nothing, of course. It's surprising, really, how dense some people are; there should probably be scorch marks on Touya's back from the intensity of the gaze sent after him as he leaves them with an all-suffering sigh to break up a shouting match between Shindou and some other boy. If he doesn't hurry, Shindou seems liable to start tossing hors d'oeuvres around or maybe just upending his glass over his friend's head.
After observing for a few moments, Yongha turns his attention back to the man and remarks, "It seems this free entertainment never end here. "
"We've considered selling tickets," Ogata tells him. "Your Japanese is very good."
"I study hard," Yongha replies, deciding to forgo humility. That is not the sort of thing a man like Ogata responds to, and this trip will be far too long to spend in his hotel room baby-sitting Suyong and listening to Ifruhan snore. Besides, not everything requires perfect grammar, whatever naïve Suyong seems to think. A rudimentary grasp of the language is more than enough in this situation. "Clearly, I am wise that I do so. It would be a pity not to speaking with you, Ogata-san."
He is rewarded with a laugh and a flash of obvious desire in Ogata's eyes before his face becomes inscrutable once again. "You flatter me. The pleasure is mine."
"Yes," Yongha says, suppressing a laugh, and returns Ogata's smile with one of his own. "I am excellent company."
***
"You will never be getting what you want, you know," he remarks a few hours later, sprawled bonelessly across the couch, contemplating whether he has the energy to get up and get himself a drink. It seems more trouble than it's worth even to brush away the lock of tousled hair that has settled across his eyes, so he decides to stay put.
"I have everything I could possibly want," comes Ogata's amused voice from the direction of the kitchen. "An enviable career, an excellent car, properly tailored clothing, and you sprawled mostly naked on my sofa."
"I am flattered," Yongha tells him cordially, which is rather funny considering his current position, but being rude with this man is mostly pointless. He's the type that genuinely has to care about something before he bothers getting angry, and Yongha is hardly naïve enough to think he belongs on the short list of things Ogata Seiji cares about. But he certainly knows what DOES belong. "Too bad, I guess, that he never notice how you watch him. Shindou glare and glare at you for it, but HE never notice." His host comes back out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, and Yongha graciously pulls himself into a sitting position to make room for him to sit down. "You better be sharing."
After less than a moment of consideration, Ogata offers him the bottle. "I don't suppose outrage at your being too young to drink would have any point in this instance."
"Like you care," Yongha laughs once he processes what the man is saying, and takes a swig.
"I'm beginning to see where you get your reputation."
"I can say the same thing," Yongha replies with an arch look. "I'm thinking Shindou will be so happy and horrified to find out he is always right about you." He knows this just from conversation overheard at the dinner, and they left early. Shindou is very vocal.
"You know, of course, that if we're going to discuss futile situations, you're not getting what you want, either." Ogata's eyes just then are very shrewd and Yongha realizes that he's actually managed to wound him somewhere with his words, even if it is only his pride.
"I don't want anything I don't-or can't-have," he says, and despite himself he thinks of Shindou with his inhuman eyes.
"Then you're not as smart as you think you are," Ogata tells him.
"Maybe, maybe not." He's never once had to give up on anything, and he doesn't see why he should start now. "We will see, if I find something I decide I want, after all."
***
Ogata joins the delegation that accompanies them to the airport three days later, and Yongha feels a little sorry for him, because he thinks he might have gotten under his skin more than he intended. So when it comes time to say good-bye, he smiles most pleasantly, stands just a fraction too close, and says, "If you are ever coming to Korea, we should play a game." Not that they have played a single game all week.
"Thank you for the invitation. I'd be delighted."
They bow very politely to each other. As Yongha turns and follows Ifruhan onto the plane, ignoring Suyong, who is trailing behind him and demanding in a hissing whisper where he has BEEN the last three nights, he hears Shindou mutter, "Why am I not surprised that those two bastards get along?" He hears rather than sees Touya smack his arm.
***
Two months later, a Korean baduk publication approaches the original sponsor of the Hokuto Cup and makes some kind of deal. A week later, there's a Chinese company involved, and the event, renamed with the slightly pompous title of the New Stars Tournament, is scheduled to take place in Seoul in July and rotate to Beijing the next year. Yongha finds himself surprisingly willing to rearrange his schedule to accommodate this. He cancels a trip to the seaside to stay in the capital for his match, most especially because it's against Shindou again-it appears he has just barely beaten out Touya in this year's oteai matches and has been granted the honor of first board.
The tournament week is hot and muggy, with eerily still mornings and violent afternoon thunderstorms. The official matches are spread out over two days, and in between, there are interviews, unofficial games, publicity photos, and group meals, the atmosphere at which hovers somewhere between annoying and hysterical, because someone always seems to be yelling-be it Shindou; Le-Ping, the youngest member of the Chinese team; Suyong; or Hyojung, who has taken Ifruhan's place and has clearly never learned about inside and outside voices.
Shindou is tall and lanky and rather alarmingly attractive sometimes, and he still glares at Yongha with inhuman eyes, and Yongha can still-just barely-beat him. After the cameras are off, Shindou storms out into the rain, and according to rumor doesn't come back to the host hotel until well after midnight, soaking wet and miserable, and pounds on Touya's door until he is allowed to enter. Judging by the bags under their eyes at breakfast the next morning and the fact that Touya is pointedly ignoring Shindou, Yongha can deduce that waking Touya in the middle of the night is not the best way to get sympathy. Yongha knows better than to try talking to Shindou, though he thinks he might actually want to and his Japanese is greatly improved.
A few hours before the ceremony to present China with the Cup they have won, Yongha leaves the game hall in search of coffee and once again runs into Yashiro, who is standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, scowl on face, clearly attempting to block his path and look as threatening as a ridiculously-dressed teenager at least ten centimeters shorter than he is can manage to look. He's failing pretty miserably, but it would probably not be sporting to say so, and he HAS promised Kim-seonsaengnim to be at least moderately polite during the course of this tournament. He tries to walk around. Yashiro doesn't let him. "Oi," he says, and Yongha sighs.
"My name," he says, "is not 'Oi,' chibi."
"My name isn't CHIBI," the other boy splutters, and Yongha shrugs and puts a hand on his shoulder to shove him aside none too gently and continue on his way while he's busy being affronted.
"Good," he says over his shoulder. "I'm so glad we had this conversation."
"Oi, BASTARD," comes from behind him, but he is too accustomed to walking away to the sound of expletives to turn back, and besides, he has better things to do than fuss with Yashiro Kiyoharu of all people. Even if he did provide several moments of unexpected entertainment in the Kiin elevator that one time.
~2004~
The problem with Shindou, mostly, is that Yongha doesn't really know what he WANTS to do about him. Two years since their eyes met over the goban, and Shindou is still on his mind at sporadic intervals. He might be eating breakfast or taking a taxi to a match or enjoying a nice dinner with one of his usual companions, and then suddenly something will remind him, and he'll stop and think of Shindou, maybe for just a moment-his energy and his anger and the intelligence sparkling somewhere beyond his childish behavior.
He's never really had experience with something like this before; mostly he doesn't circle around things for two weeks, let alone two years, but here he is, volunteering himself for a study group trip to Japan in three months, and he can be honest with himself and admit it's probably because he's just turned eighteen and the Young Stars Tournament is going to be held in China. If he doesn't go to Japan now, he's not likely to see Shindou again until the tournament returns to Korea in two years-unless, of course, he's mad enough to volunteer himself as chaperone for the three boys going to China this summer, and even Shindou isn't worth that.
So he packs his suitcase and he goes to Japan with a group of older pros in early April. A delegation comes to meet them at the airport, and Yongha realizes he's practically grinning when Shindou fixes him with a venomous gaze. He bows his head a little, mockingly, then turns to greet Ogata as though Shindou is of no interest to him at all. He's glad he came.
***
A week later, however, he is beginning to doubt his sanity. Shindou has apparently joined Ogata in his preferred activity of Touya-watching, and the sugary expression of longing on his face is almost more than any rational human being can stomach at any hour of the day, let alone at six in the morning over breakfast. They are getting ready to head out for a day trip to view the new cherry blossoms somewhere in the countryside as a well-deserved break from the endless games and study sessions and heated arguments in the Kiin cafeteria. Everyone needs the break, but getting up in time for a six o'clock breakfast doesn't seem particularly relaxing to Yongha, and if Shindou doesn't stop making eyes at Touya SOON, he will probably be very undignified and throw his bowl at his head. It's irritating. It's ruining his appetite. It's possibly going to ruin his whole day. It doesn't matter that no one else seems to be getting indigestion (in fact, Ogata looks faintly amused and the ridiculously cheerful man sitting next to him-Ashiwara, Yongha thinks, but they've never really spoken-is hiding a grin with his coffee cup); Yongha is annoyed.
Touya, naturally, is absolutely oblivious, sipping daintily on a cup of tea and for all the world looking as though half the table isn't focused on him. Yongha wonders what it is about the boy that seems to draw everyone's attention like this. He's a strong player, certainly, but otherwise unremarkable as far as Yongha can tell, except the fact that he has the world's ugliest clothes and is so polite it's painful.
And all of this is rather strange because really, Yongha has never been annoyed by Touya before, but he's simmering now.
Shindou still has hearts in his eyes, and that certainly won't do. "Aren't you glad we're getting out of the Institute for a day?" Yongha murmurs when there is a break in conversation, low enough that only Shindou, who is sitting across from him, is likely to hear. "You must be getting tired of losing to me." This is a lowbrow tactic, but it certainly gets Shindou's attention, gets his color up, and has him shouting in short order, which does wonders to restore Yongha's appetite. Touya's pointedly ignoring them, as though they are two small and annoying children, but that's for the best.
They troop onto the tour bus, and Yashiro 3-dan sidles up to him. "Oi," he says. "You could stop provoking him."
"First, you can stop addressing me as 'Oi,'" Yongha tells him. "And second, my relationship with Shindou really doesn't concern you."
"He's my FRIEND," the Japanese player insists, as if Yongha actually cares. "And YOU'RE-"
"Then you might tell him to try behaving less like a little girl," Yongha cuts him off, climbs on the bus, and purposely seats himself next to Ogata, where he knows none of the particularly annoying Japanese delegates will dare approach.
He discovers there is no peace to be found even in this corner; Ogata is smirking in a way that is altogether too self-satisfied. "I thought," he says, "that you always got what you wanted."
"I have NO idea what you're talking about, Seiji-san," Yongha tells him, using the familiarity to express his displeasure, and turns his attention to the window, as though the passing landscape can actually keep his attention. He's annoyed and altogether unsettled, and he doesn't like it. Shindou's sharing a seat with Touya and explaining something animatedly, hands waving in the air, and he doesn't like that, either. He's starting to wish he never came here; he doesn't like feeling like this. He's been waiting for an opportunity to present itself, SOMETHING to get Shindou out of his system, and it doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon.
Then, literally five hours later, out of nowhere, it comes.
***
Even he must admit that the spot chosen by the host committee is very pretty. The park is out of the way and quiet, there's a picturesque little stream at the bottom of the hill, and the sakura trees are weeping pink petals into the running water and all over everything else. There is plenty of food and sake (something he can get into, considering his worsening mood) and the ambiance is festive. Just after lunch, Touya wanders off towards the stream, and a few moment later, Shindou rises as well, looking equal parts determined and sick to his stomach, as though he is about to face a title match. He looks around, sighs, and follows after Touya, disappearing among the trees.
About fifteen minutes after that, Yongha stands as well, intending to head down to the public restrooms by the parking lot and relieve himself of some of the sake. He is just contemplating walking to the nearest train station and getting out of here, and never mind what anyone else says, when he spots Shindou stumbling out of a little grove of trees, looking none too steady on his feet and, as he approaches and Yongha can see him better, like his world has just come to an abrupt end. He stops and looks around blankly, as though unsure of what to do with himself, and he looks so incredibly, unbelievably lost that Yongha actually feels the bizarre urge to reach out and offer comfort, which is of course ridiculous. He isn't a nice person generally, and he doesn't do that sort of thing as a rule.
But he is certainly the kind of person who takes advantage of the situation, and this one looks either explosive or promising, depending. He approaches quietly, and Shindou doesn't even notice him until he speaks. "Shindou. You okay?"
Then Shindou looks at him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and tries for an angry retort, but all he manages is, "You… Like you could POSSIBLY… Don't even…" He can't seem to gather the energy to yell, though he certainly looks hysterical; Yongha thinks that he must have too much to say and no words to say it with. "Why the FUCK would you even ASK ME THAT! " he finally comes back with. The tears are threatening to spill over. "YOU DON'T CARE!"
Yongha shrugs and says, "I'm asking, aren't I?"
And Shindou just crumbles right before his eyes. Before he knows it, the Japanese player is clinging to him, probably just because he is convenient in a moment when he desperately needs someone to cling to. He is shaking and incoherent, and although Yongha doesn't generally have the patience to deal with this sort of thing, he puts an arm around him and after a moment fumbles for his phone one-handed, because he'd rather pay the exorbitant taxi fare for the suburbs than try to get Shindou onto a train in this state.
They make it back to Yongha's hotel two hours later, and Shindou seems to be out of tears. He stumbles in to sit on the bed with a look of someone suffering from shock. It's disconcerting to see him this way-Shindou has always been very animated and alive; now he looks like someone's broken doll. Not for the first time, Yongha wonders why he bothered to bring this hysterical teenager home when he could have just as easily let him be. Yongha opens the mini-bar and pours the first hard liquor he can find into a glass, then thrusts it at Shindou. Shindou drinks. Once his glass is empty, Yongha fills it again. The boy doesn't hesitate to down the second serving, though Yongha somehow doubts he is the kind to drink heavily or often.
He doesn't know what to say, but fortunately, the alcohol seems to have loosened Shindou's tongue, and he starts talking, though not about anything that Yongha can understand, and not just because he uses so much slang and his words are getting more slurred by the minute. He talks about the weather and the game he had with someone named Waya and his friend's school Go club and Yongha sits down next to him and listens without hearing, and when he seems drunk enough to miss if he tries to slap him, Yongha takes his face in his hands and leans in to kiss him, because he knows he's wanted to all along and he doubts there will ever be a better opportunity than this.
There is a moment of stillness, then with a sound like a sob, Shindou wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. He is clumsy at this and obviously rather drunk, and Yongha thinks he may actually never have kissed anyone before, but he can't fault him for trying. So he slips a hand under Shindou's shirt, guides him down onto the bed, ignores the tears on his lashes, and doesn't ask him whether he's sure about this or anything, because he knows that if Shindou is allowed to start thinking, he will shatter, and he wants him whole and breathing hard and close.
***
"This doesn't mean anything," Shindou tells him muzzily later, and Yongha almost laughs, because he just KNEW Shindou would be the talk-about-it type, even when there is nothing to be said.
"It doesn't need to mean anything," he says, and Shindou seems comforted by that, because he drops off to sleep, and fortunately for Yongha doesn't snore.
~2004-2006~
They don't talk about it after that, and over the course of the next year, that becomes pattern-the not talking about it, Shindou's occasional bouts of depression, shared hotel beds at international tournaments but never in either of their homes.
Going by Touya's face on the day after the picnic, it is very obvious that whatever has driven Shindou into this state has to do with him; as time passes, Yongha pieces most of it together and wonders at Touya's apparent stupidity, because as Shindou pulls himself back together, he also pulls away, and it's obvious that Touya minds, but now Shindou is the one not seeing what is right in front of him. Instead he puts his energy towards anything that isn't Touya; pretty soon he is in the running for several titles despite his youth and capable of winning one game out of three when he and Yongha play.
He never expected it to come about like this, but now his collection of hateful Japanese pros is complete; Touya also glares at him when they meet in public, especially if he has Shindou with him. Sometimes Yongha will lean in a little too close because he knows Touya is watching and murmur something so that only Shindou can hear, usually something nonsensical that will cause a laugh or a smack on the arm. Touya looks like he's unsure whether to kill someone else or himself at those moments, and Yongha relishes them because they make him feel powerful and victorious. He has things he could say to Touya about timing and about not wasting one's energy regretting a move made months ago, but he thinks his words hold more power because he doesn't say them, and Touya knows he knows, and has won the ultimate prize.
Shindou as an occasional lover and rival is even more satisfying than Shindou as a helpless target was. Now when Yongha gets the urge to touch, he can. He discovers that yes, shutting Shindou up by kissing him senseless is a good tactic, but he will generally resume the diatribe the moment he is allowed to breathe, so the trick is to make him forget every though in his head, up to and including his own name. In fact, he learns quite a few things about Shindou along the way, such as the fact that he enjoys screaming at his opponents after games, that he has an unfounded terror of Ogata, an imbecilic preference for Japanese ramen over the clearly superior Korean ramyeon and a propensity for sleeping sprawled all over the bed with no regard for anyone else.
It doesn't really surprise him when Shindou starts haltingly speaking Korean-he's in and out of the country frequently enough these days. They're not really together-though Suyong keeps trying to convince him they are-but they get along well enough about half the time and when Shindou makes it into the Honinbou round robin, it is Yongha who celebrates with him; he can't resist making a Shuusaku joke and Shindou screams at him for at least half an hour, at which point Yongha is determined to find out who has been teaching him his surprisingly extensive vocabulary of Korean swear words.
The first time Shindou beats him in an official match-about halfway through the Samsung Cup-is the first time Yongha really gets into shouting back because Shindou is gloating and it is driving him a little crazy. Because Shindou is clearly insane, the shouting match results in wild sex in the entry hall of Yongha's suite-he seems unable to wait until they can get across the suite to a bed or even the couch. "You really do get off on people yelling at you," Yongha points out bemusedly after. "How in the world did you get through school? I'm sure your teachers yelled at you on a regular basis. You can't possibly have been well-behaved."
"Oh shut up," Shindou says, and grabs his shirt from where it is hanging on the doorknob. He should give it up as a hopeless case, Yongha thinks, as there are some buttons missing, it is extremely wrinkled, and none of his hand smoothing can seem to make it pass for something that has NOT been torn from his person.
Yongha doesn't bother to do more than pull up his pants and buckle his belt. Everything needs to go to dry cleaning anyway. "Maybe it's a more recent fixation? Do tell me what triggered your strange fetish."
He's grinning but it is clear Shindou is not amused. "I told you," he says, "to shut up." He pulls his own pants up and stalks out of the hotel room looking like a cheap whore, slamming the door behind him. Yongha shakes his head and goes to the bath, knowing Shindou will be back in a few hours once he's gotten over himself.
***
Nearly two years pass this way, and then suddenly it ends as abruptly as it began. Shindou stops calling, stops visiting, and when he accompanies the young Japanese pros to the New Stars Tournament in Seoul that summer, he acts as though they barely know each other. Touya is on the fringes of every gathering, and Shindou is ignoring him too, but it's a different kind of ignoring; it is very obvious that he is hyper aware of every move Touya makes even if he refuses to acknowledge him. It's only a matter of time before something, or someone, breaks.
It isn't a surprise, not really, to watch them walk into a room side by side one day a few weeks later; Touya spots Yongha across the room and leans too close to Shindou to whisper something into his hair. Shindou laughs, and Touya gives Yongha a neutral look from across the room, but Yongha has faced him in matches before and knows that it means, "I have won." Because he refuses to bow his head in defeat, he turns on his heel and leaves.
They weren't together and it shouldn't matter and it's not like their arrangement was more than sex and the occasional game, but Yongha still finds himself unpleasantly shaken by such a cold and sudden dismissal. It isn't as though they were exclusive, or lovers in anything but the basest definition of the word, and there are plenty of people he can go to who will lick his wounds, but instead he goes home alone for several weeks running, trying and failing to understand the pain and uneasiness inside himself, unaware until now of the existence of such a thing as despair.
***
Life after Shindou is strangely empty. After awhile, Yongha slips back into his usual pattern to fill the emptiness: older men who spoil him, terrifying and humbling Kiwon novices, collecting wins against various local and international professionals. He's in the habit of going to Japan frequently by then, and he sees no reason to stop; he has the feeling that if he does it would be a concession of some sort, a giving up, and he never gives up anything. He sees Shindou occasionally, of course, because the world of professional Go is not that large, but they're strangers now, less than they ever were because Yongha senses that even if he were to taunt him, there would be no response, no flare of heat. Whatever has happened, Shindou has become immune to him.
He gets very drunk with Ogata once or twice, to the point where his memories become a little fuzzy. Mostly Ogata is courteous enough not to mention things that could make their time together uncomfortable, but Yongha seems to remember his hair being stroked once in something almost like gentleness and Ogata calling him a poor idiot, and the idea of that is so disturbing that he makes a point to avoid the man's bed thereafter.
Time passes. He learns to forget.
He runs into Yashiro again at an exhibition weekend in Seoul just before the New Year, and he supposes he should not be too surprised, because the Japanese pro has also been making waves lately, winning tournaments and contending for titles. They bow to each other, then Yashiro says almost pleasantly, "Come, I buy you a drink."
"You speak Korean now?" Yongha asks, but falls into step with him towards the hotel bar, because after all, why not?
"Like everyone else," Yashiro says, sounding annoyed. "I am getting sick of they never translate for me." Yongha wonders if it would be a kindness to mention he is using the feminine informal but decides to let it go for the amusement factor. He wonders if he was ever this awkward in Japanese.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been stalking me," he points out as he takes a seat at the bar.
"NO!" Yashiro says forcefully, but his face is ruddy with color, indicating that Yongha isn't entirely wrong.
"How cute. I have a fanboy stalker," Yongha says, leaning his elbows on the bar and smirking.
"I AM NOT CUTE!"
Yongha's smirk only deepens at the outrage. He realizes he's missed arguing with someone who isn't Suyong. "Obviously not, chibi. Where's my drink? I'm waiting."
"DO NOT CALL ME CHIBI!"
~2010~
In some mysterious way he cannot quite understand, the chibi's stuff keeps invading his house. Lately, he can barely find one of his own dress shirts without going through at least three that are a size too small, and he knows he would NEVER have bought that skull and crossbones tie hanging on the tie rack, but it's there grinning at him when he's getting dressed for an awards banquet and he's torn between glaring at it and putting it on just for the hell of it. He's getting really sick of this mess, because he's put on the too-small shirts a couple of times when he was in a rush, and the buttons tend to pop if he moves wrong, and that just makes him look stupid, and Ko-Chunweon is NEVER stupid, a fact his terrified private students can certainly attest to.
He puts on a sage green tie. He glares at the skull and crossbones. He shrugs into his suit jacket, tucks his wallet into his pocket, and heads out.
The doorman bows to him and he inclines his head in return, because it is unwise to be rude to the hired help. The staff in this building is a treasure because everyone is so discreet, and he doesn't want to give them a reason to reassess their behavior. He's got enough fans to be jokingly nicknamed the baduk idol by daring younger players, and he can only imagine the sort of reaction he can expect if someone in the media is informed of the fact that the Japanese Gosei occasionally stumbles into his apartment with him in varying states of intoxication and undress. He still enjoys a good scandal now and again, but he tries to keep his name out of it and watch from the sidelines; one is expected to be somewhat more conservative if one is to teach, and if he doesn't teach, titleholder or not, he won't be able to afford the sort of life he's grown used to.
And really, if Yashiro-Gosei has no concept of privacy, SOMEONE has to concern himself.
The doorman hails him a conveniently passing taxi and he slides into the car only to discover he isn't alone in the back seat-and shortly the other passenger is nearly in his lap and kissing him in a very insistent way while the mortified driver makes a strangled sort of sound and tries to find somewhere else to look. Yongha gives a warning bite to his companion's lower lip when he seems to be getting too eager, causing him to curse and pull back. "The Hankuk Kiwon," he tells the driver, who seems overjoyed to have something normal to do. Then he sighs and says with the most annoyance he can muster, "Why should I even be surprised that you are stalking me again?"
"That might be more convincing if you hadn't just had your hand down my pants, you know," says the owner of the stupid skull and crossbones tie, and at least he's got enough sense to say it in Japanese, though how the driver could have failed to notice what had almost happened in the back seat of his vehicle, Yongha can't imagine.
"You caught me by surprise, or I might have punched you," he says, and he's trying to be annoyed but he's grinning despite himself because it's been two months at least. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
"Going to the Kiwon dinner," is the prompt answer, because even when they do wildly inappropriate things like this, they like to have excuses. He's speaking Korean again, indicating he's probably not going to say anything too outrageous. "That girl I tutored while you were away last year has finally squeaked through the exam and was kind enough to invite me."
Yongha is actually rather proud of Hawon, who has flown through the ranks ever since he consented to take her in. She has monopolized his time terribly the last few years and he is glad this is coming to an end. He still isn't sure why the Japanese pro had taken over her lessons when he was called away to China last winter, except he had just been there the way he sometimes was, and she had lost a game miserably to him shortly before Yongha's departure and demanded that he stay. He managed to kill every plant in the house while he was there on his own, and Hawon had moved up in rank. "In two months, you probably didn't have enough time to do her sufficient harm, and so she's wise enough to thank you," Yongha says acidly, then adds, "and why is your stupidly ugly tie hanging in my closet? How long has it been there?"
"Your hair products are overrunning my bathroom cabinet, so I don't think you have any room to talk," is the prompt response, and suddenly Yongha realizes: holy shit, it's been over four years, and this man who has just tried to molest him in a taxi has his own TOOTHBRUSH in Yongha's apartment and the pantry is somehow always stocked with his favorite soda although Yongha absolutely hates it, and this all seems perfectly normal to him despite the fact that they don't even live in the same country. And he doesn't take casual lovers anymore and in fact he hasn't done so in years-he can barely remember HOW to pick up a stranger at a club, and while his students mostly look at him with a healthy mix of terror and lust, he's never once taken advantage.
It's preposterous. In fact, it's just STUPID. THEY'RE obviously a little stupid. And here he was thinking he was NEVER stupid.
The taxi pulls up to the curb and he's laughing so hard he can't climb out of it. "Oi, have you gone completely crazy?"
"Gentlemen," assays the driver.
He tries to hold in the laughter. "Kiyoharu, I'm exactly as sane as you are," he replies, ignoring the driver, and the use of the name which he generally doesn't bother with unless he's particularly warm and sleepy and sated has Kiyoharu's eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "I think," he says, "I'm going to buy a house. Maybe in China."
"Uh," Kiyoharu says, blinks, then adds, "I hate to ask. I really do, because it's still not going to make any sense after you tell me. But WHY?" He's looking at him as though he's gone a little insane after all. Which is actually the case, but they must be equally crazy to carry on this… relationship for four years without ever actually using the word, or any other word related to it. He contemplates opening his mouth and saying, hey, I think I'm probably in love with you, so why not? Somehow, he doesn't think this is the place, and anyway, Kiyoharu may have a heart attack, and then where will they be?
"…Gentlemen," says the driver, sounding like the word is being choked out of him, "in case you haven't noticed, we're here. Your fare-"
"Because," Yongha says as patiently as he can in light of this revelation, fumbling for his wallet, "your ugly shit does not fit in my closet. You need your OWN closet. And we haven't lived THERE yet, so the taxi drivers don't know us." He shoves some money at the man behind the wheel and grabs his confounded lover's wrist to pull him out onto the sidewalk, then, simply on a whim, doesn't let go.
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/humor/occasional angst
Pairings: Yongha/Ogata, Yongha/Hikaru, Yongha/Yashiro
Wordcount: 9,037
Description: Ko Yongha, 2002-2010.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hikago. I wish I did. Or at least Yongha. I'd totally settle for just Yongha, but I don't own him either.
Notes: blind_go reveals are up at last, and thus, once again, I present to you a very mildly edited version of my entry! I've sworn for half a year or more that I would do this, and so I finally have, because clearly Yongha deserves all sorts of fandom love and he's not been getting it. I love this character to death and back again. And yes, the observant (and even the not-so-observant) reader will note that this is a companion piece to Two of Five.
~1986-2002~
Ko Yongha has an enviable existence by all accounts, as he has always been allowed practically anything that money can buy. He is an only child, and his parents' involvement in his life is mostly limited to an occasional public appearance and a great deal of money spent to make sure they can always brag about his accomplishments at parties. He shows a keen mind for strategy at a young age; immediately, there are baduk lessons, complete with a 7-dan of some renown as a private tutor. Fortunately, he likes the game, so he chooses to apply himself; his achievements are many and keep his parents satisfied and out of his hair, and he grows up mostly on his own terms, doing always and only what pleases him.
He knows he is an exceptionally pretty child-his mother is constantly fussing over him for photographs, and his hair is allowed to grow glossy and long. When he is not quite a child any longer, the prettiness turns him nearly irresistible, and he knows this too, and abuses the fact ruthlessly. He starts with bored, rich, older females who have nothing better to do. Unfortunately, most of them have an irrational urge to feed him; because he doesn't particularly fancy being someone's surrogate child (two parents, uninvolved as they are, have always been quite enough in his opinion), he soon moves on to bored, rich, older men, who are less likely to give him pet names and treat him like some sort of poodle.
He is beautifully polite to his parents' friends and makes for pleasant company. He merely tolerates school but has an excellent memory, so when required to, he can talk about history and literature and other such subjects for hours and generally present the image of a civilized young man of good family. Most of the time, however, he is marvelously cocky with a devil-may-care sort of attitude that appeals to his preferred companions. He has no shame in the bedroom or anywhere else (no such virtue has ever been instilled in him) and that makes him a particular favorite.
He lives just as he pleases and that is perfectly good enough for him-at least until the first Hokuto Cup, which changes a great deal in his life, because at the Hokuto Cup he encounters Shindou Hikaru. From that short trip to Japan, the next four years of his life spring on their own.
~2002~
He enjoys taunting Shindou at first because it is so amusingly simple. He likes stirring things up and being the center of attention, and Shindou is the perfect target-easy to rile up, easier still to keep in a state of simmering anger and near-panic. So Shindou is an amusement-at least until he meets this upstart on the goban and discovers that there is a great deal more to him than meets the eye. The furious, somewhat inhuman eyes that meet his are fascinating and certainly DIFFERENT. He feels the warmth spread through him as he considers the possibilities-and beats Shindou into the ground despite his mad efforts to catch up.
He sees quite a bit of Shindou-and Touya, and the third one, whose name he doesn't bother learning at the time-over the course of the next few days, and the fascination takes root. He watches as Shindou has an epic game with Suyong, though it's lacking the flash and fire Yongha saw him exhibit in the official match. Playing the way he had then, he should take Suyong's head off by midgame; instead, he wins, but the game takes about half an hour longer than Yongha expects it to. Once the game is over and Suyong's head is properly bowed, Shindou sits back on his heels with a bright grin. "How's THAT for you?" he asks, and looks at Yongha with a challenging look which is easy to understand despite the language barrier.
A few moments of silence later, one of the observers pipes in helpfully, "He wants to know what you thought of the game."
Yongha looks at the skillful layout of stones on the board, smiles, and says, "You can tell him that 15-6 in midgame was the most foolish move I have ever seen. If he had been playing me, I would have destroyed him there." Silence. Touya looks startled, then thoughtful. "Go on," Yongha says to the upstart who has decided to take it upon himself to translate. "He wanted to know what I thought, didn't he?"
The boy squirms under his gaze, then says something in halting Japanese. Immediately, Shindou is on his feet, red with fury, glaring, clearly spoiling for a fight. Touya grabs his arm, obviously intending to stop him, but that doesn't halt the killing looks. Yongha never stops smiling, thinking that this is more like it, the furious dragon eyes he saw during the match, attention aimed solely at him. He decides he likes Shindou better like this, with single-minded focus, and resolves to keep him this way as long as possible.
He inclines his head, like a king to one of his lowliest subjects, and says, "If you'll excuse me, I skipped lunch." Shindou shouts after him, but he ignores it.
***
He manages an informal match with Touya the next day before they leave, and wins it by some miracle he isn't certain of. It is Shindou's face he remembers from that match, though-tense and worried, as though much more is riding on the outcome of the game than a head bowed in surrender. He seems to take Touya's loss as a personal affront. After he wins, Yongha tests Shindou's control by smirking at him, and sure enough, just that easily his color is up and he lets loose a long, incomprehensible string of Japanese.
"Well," Yongha says to Touya, who looks humiliated by Shindou's outburst. "That was fun."
"Excuse him, please," Touya says in his textbook Korean, and stands to grab Shindou by the wrist and drag him from the room.
"Oi." Yongha turns to see the third Japanese boy-Ya-something or other; he doesn't really care one way or another-scowling at him. "What about me?"
Yongha looks at questioningly at Suyong, who sighs dramatically and translates, "I think he wants to play with you."
Yongha examines the slightly slouched, scowling form of the Japanese player, then shrugs and tells Suyong, "You can tell him he's not worth my time." He turns and saunters out in the direction taken by Touya and Shindou.
"Yongha! Hey YONGHA, YOU RUDE, IMPOLITE-"
He cuts off Suyong's furious tirade with a shut door and a laugh.
***
He has never really liked school, but when he gets back from Japan, he hires a tutor and buys Japanese phrasebooks. "What are you DOING?" asks a bewildered Suyong when he catches him at it one afternoon between matches.
"Studying so you no have to deliver my messages," Yongha tells him in carefully slow Japanese, never looking up from his book.
Suyong shakes his head and stands there gaping like a fish for a few moments before turning on his heel and leaving.
~2003~
The Hokuto Cup sponsors seem to be having financial difficulties and the tournament is being postponed for an indefinite amount of time. There will be no press coverage and no specially rented hall, but the plane tickets have been bought, and so after considering awhile, their chaperones decide they will go, anyway. His Japanese is not quite what he wishes at that point, but he feels better equipped than he did a year ago.
"I can't believe we're wasting match time to go to Japan and be TOURISTS," Ifruhan says bitterly as their plane takes off. "I don't know why we would WANT to go see Mount Fuji."
Personally, Yongha is pretty sure he's only bitter because Suyong has been named second board in his place, but he doesn't want to argue with someone he'll be sitting next to for the next few hours, so he graciously doesn't mention it. Instead he turns to Suyong and says, in Japanese, "I hope he doesn't be like that whole trip."
"Too many verbs," Suyong tells him, then adds, "but you're getting better."
"Good enough for now," Yongha tells him, and thinks he really should get a better tutor when he gets home.
"At least you can't steal my game with Shindou this time," Suyong says, vastly satisfied that he and his Japanese rival will finally be playing the same position.
If Suyong is moving up in the world, Shindou has moved down-probably where he belongs, but Yongha won't deny he's a little disappointed, anyway. Because it's disappointing and because Suyong probably expects him to, he teases, "Maybe you actually win it this time?"
"I CAN TOO WIN A GAME WITH SHINDOU!"
"I will believe only when I see it happen," Yongha tells him, content to have played his usual role of provocateur. "Too bad the match is not…" he searches for the correct word and finally settles on, "official. Even when you lose to Shindou, I will win, and I am thinking Ifruhan is so angry he will not be losing! Good win for Korea, if someone recorded it."
"His opponent is not that easy," Suyong says. "Remember, I played him."
"If you can win him last year, I don't think Ifruhan will be having so many problems," Yongha says flippantly.
"You can stop insulting me, and your grammar is awful," Suyong tells him crossly.
"WILL YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK!" exclaims Ifruhan.
"Actually, you're right here, so it's hardly behind your back," Yongha points out. "And Suyong is only saying that he thinks you will have trouble with your opponent tomorrow afternoon." That seed being planted, he settles back contentedly to watch his teammates bicker.
***
In revenge, Ifruhan snores. Like a freight train.
This is a fact that makes any trip with him pure hell, in Yongha's opinion. He tries and fails to get Suyong as a roommate-the younger boy is placed with one of the chaperones and so Yongha is wide awake long before any reasonable person should be, staring at the ceiling of his hotel room in Tokyo, listening to Ifruhan snore and hating life a little bit. He contemplates getting up and kicking him awake, but then the snoring will in all likelihood turn to whining, and he's not sure how much better that will be.
Accordingly, he rises, dresses, does a little damage control on his hair, and heads downstairs. No one else is awake yet; after a few moments of consideration he skips breakfast and heads outside instead, figuring that the fresh air will do his aching head more good than food at this hour.
The hotel is located fairly near the Nihon Kiin according to the explanations given to them by their host the evening before. After a few wrong turns, Yongha manages to find it, an unimposing building with a sign he cannot read, except the familiar Chinese character for Go. He goes inside, smiles brilliantly at the receptionist (who immediately looks much less sleepy) and heads towards the stairs.
He spends an hour exploring the building, peeks in on a class of children who could use better discipline, picks up a can of coffee from the vending machine and settles in the open game room across from a wizened old man who might manage to give him a decent warm-up game.
His cell phone starts vibrating insistently about half an hour into it. With a sigh, he looks at the call screen and notes it is Kim-seonsaengnim, the trip chaperone. He gives an apologetic shrug to his opponent and clicks the phone on. "Yes?"
He then proceeds to hold the receiver a few centimeters from his face as it explodes with frantic shouting. When the man seems to have worn himself out, Yongha brings the phone back to his ear. "I haven't been kidnapped, I haven't been arrested, and I don't know WHY you would think either of these things is likely," he says crossly. "I'm playing a game."
"I KNOW you," says the man on the other end of the line. "Will you PLEASE try not to make an international incident this time? We were apologizing for you for weeks after, last time, and-"
"I'm playing a GAME," Yongha says, exasperated because for once he has not done anything deserving of the scolding. "And I can't help it if these people are so touchy." Angry silence tells him he has not won his case. "I'll be good," he says. "I won't provoke anyone before lunch. I am, however, being very rude to my opponent by continuing this conversation, so I am going to hang up now." He does so, ignores the subsequent vibrating, apologizes to the other player, and takes up another stone.
***
Another hour after that he wanders back out into the hallway in search of more coffee and potentially lunch before the afternoon match. He steps into the elevator and hits the ground floor button, but before the doors can close, someone shoves his arm in, causing the elevator to beep in annoyance and open again. The boy who enters is glaring bloody murder, and after a moment Yongha recalls who he is. He even bows his head a little, because he has promised to be good, after all, but the glaring doesn't abate.
"You. You're the bastard who didn't think I was worth playing last time you were here."
Yongha feigns incomprehension, hoping this will make the nuisance go away. This tactic, however, fails spectacularly, as the Japanese pro simply takes this as an invitation to vent.
"Personally, I don't think you're worth ANY of our time. And I hope Touya kicks your ASS today, though I'd rather do it myself. Shindou told me to get in line."
"I'm sure it's easy to be brave when you think I don't understand you," Yongha tells him in Korean.
The glare intensifies, and he doesn't need to speak perfect Japanese to understand the venom in the other's words when he responds, predictably, with: "What? Are you insulting me? You're totally insulting me. You think you're SO great, don't you? Man, you have hair like a GIRL, and look at you, you probably wear MASCARA or something, and-"
He goes on in this vein for a few seconds more as the door closes, and really, Yongha thinks, he's perfectly justified in shutting him up the simplest way he knows how.
What he doesn't quite expect is that after the typical moment of shock, the little upstart decides to kiss him back, and is generally not fighting the idea of being pinned to the elevator wall. In fact, he really seems to be getting into it, and when the elevator dings to a stop, Yongha is rather reluctant to step back. He does, though, running his tongue over his lower lip, thinking it will probably swell a little from the particularly enthusiastic bite it has just received. The Japanese player is panting for breath and looking at him with wild eyes as the elevator door opens, so Yongha takes the opportunity to tell him, "You talk too much," in Japanese which elicits no coherent response-proving that his little experiment is clearly a brilliant success. He wonders if it would work half so well on one of Shindou's rampages.
As he leaves the building and goes into a nearby ramen stand he noted this morning, he realizes that those fifteen or so seconds pretty much constitute a complete breaking of his promise not to provoke anyone before lunch. Fortunately, it isn't as though anyone will ever know.
***
The game that afternoon is almost anti-climactic, especially because the Korean team suffers a complete loss. He isn't too upset over it, though, because his game against Touya was a very good one. Besides, he's having a hard time not laughing over the fact that both the second and third boards of the Japanese team are giving him dirty looks now; he thinks it's just a matter of time before polite Touya succumbs to the communal hatred too. "Thank you for the game," Touya tells him.
"You don't have to bother; the crazy bastard speaks Japanese." If looks could kill, Yongha thinks, he would definitely be in danger right about now. In response, he only grins.
"Yashiro-kun!" exclaims a nervous-looking older man, "Language!"
"Thank you for the game," Yongha replies demurely. "And for such beautiful... hospitality." He proceeds to say nothing else while Yashiro-whose name he makes a point to remember this time-is dragged spluttering out of the room by the older Japanese pro, who has turned an interesting shade of purple with rage.
***
There is a small banquet that night, hosted by the Kiin in a sad attempt to make the day look a little more festive and a little less like Korea has come a long way for a pickup game. It is only remarkable because it offers the chance to meet and size up a few of the high-level Japanese pros. Most of them have clearly forgotten how to enjoy themselves and have very little use for time not spent at the goban, much like their Korean counterparts, but he does manage to make one interesting connection.
Ogata Seiji is the sort of man that Yongha has a great deal of experience leading around on an implicit leash. There is something a little sleazy about him at first glance, something a little suspicious in the pristine whiteness of his suit and the carefully aloof politeness of his smile. Yongha notes appreciation in his eyes when they are introduced and allows a slow smile to come across his face, just a little taunting, feeling very comfortable with himself and the approving gaze which is skimming over all sorts of inappropriate places.
Touya, who has just introduced them, notices nothing, of course. It's surprising, really, how dense some people are; there should probably be scorch marks on Touya's back from the intensity of the gaze sent after him as he leaves them with an all-suffering sigh to break up a shouting match between Shindou and some other boy. If he doesn't hurry, Shindou seems liable to start tossing hors d'oeuvres around or maybe just upending his glass over his friend's head.
After observing for a few moments, Yongha turns his attention back to the man and remarks, "It seems this free entertainment never end here. "
"We've considered selling tickets," Ogata tells him. "Your Japanese is very good."
"I study hard," Yongha replies, deciding to forgo humility. That is not the sort of thing a man like Ogata responds to, and this trip will be far too long to spend in his hotel room baby-sitting Suyong and listening to Ifruhan snore. Besides, not everything requires perfect grammar, whatever naïve Suyong seems to think. A rudimentary grasp of the language is more than enough in this situation. "Clearly, I am wise that I do so. It would be a pity not to speaking with you, Ogata-san."
He is rewarded with a laugh and a flash of obvious desire in Ogata's eyes before his face becomes inscrutable once again. "You flatter me. The pleasure is mine."
"Yes," Yongha says, suppressing a laugh, and returns Ogata's smile with one of his own. "I am excellent company."
***
"You will never be getting what you want, you know," he remarks a few hours later, sprawled bonelessly across the couch, contemplating whether he has the energy to get up and get himself a drink. It seems more trouble than it's worth even to brush away the lock of tousled hair that has settled across his eyes, so he decides to stay put.
"I have everything I could possibly want," comes Ogata's amused voice from the direction of the kitchen. "An enviable career, an excellent car, properly tailored clothing, and you sprawled mostly naked on my sofa."
"I am flattered," Yongha tells him cordially, which is rather funny considering his current position, but being rude with this man is mostly pointless. He's the type that genuinely has to care about something before he bothers getting angry, and Yongha is hardly naïve enough to think he belongs on the short list of things Ogata Seiji cares about. But he certainly knows what DOES belong. "Too bad, I guess, that he never notice how you watch him. Shindou glare and glare at you for it, but HE never notice." His host comes back out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, and Yongha graciously pulls himself into a sitting position to make room for him to sit down. "You better be sharing."
After less than a moment of consideration, Ogata offers him the bottle. "I don't suppose outrage at your being too young to drink would have any point in this instance."
"Like you care," Yongha laughs once he processes what the man is saying, and takes a swig.
"I'm beginning to see where you get your reputation."
"I can say the same thing," Yongha replies with an arch look. "I'm thinking Shindou will be so happy and horrified to find out he is always right about you." He knows this just from conversation overheard at the dinner, and they left early. Shindou is very vocal.
"You know, of course, that if we're going to discuss futile situations, you're not getting what you want, either." Ogata's eyes just then are very shrewd and Yongha realizes that he's actually managed to wound him somewhere with his words, even if it is only his pride.
"I don't want anything I don't-or can't-have," he says, and despite himself he thinks of Shindou with his inhuman eyes.
"Then you're not as smart as you think you are," Ogata tells him.
"Maybe, maybe not." He's never once had to give up on anything, and he doesn't see why he should start now. "We will see, if I find something I decide I want, after all."
***
Ogata joins the delegation that accompanies them to the airport three days later, and Yongha feels a little sorry for him, because he thinks he might have gotten under his skin more than he intended. So when it comes time to say good-bye, he smiles most pleasantly, stands just a fraction too close, and says, "If you are ever coming to Korea, we should play a game." Not that they have played a single game all week.
"Thank you for the invitation. I'd be delighted."
They bow very politely to each other. As Yongha turns and follows Ifruhan onto the plane, ignoring Suyong, who is trailing behind him and demanding in a hissing whisper where he has BEEN the last three nights, he hears Shindou mutter, "Why am I not surprised that those two bastards get along?" He hears rather than sees Touya smack his arm.
***
Two months later, a Korean baduk publication approaches the original sponsor of the Hokuto Cup and makes some kind of deal. A week later, there's a Chinese company involved, and the event, renamed with the slightly pompous title of the New Stars Tournament, is scheduled to take place in Seoul in July and rotate to Beijing the next year. Yongha finds himself surprisingly willing to rearrange his schedule to accommodate this. He cancels a trip to the seaside to stay in the capital for his match, most especially because it's against Shindou again-it appears he has just barely beaten out Touya in this year's oteai matches and has been granted the honor of first board.
The tournament week is hot and muggy, with eerily still mornings and violent afternoon thunderstorms. The official matches are spread out over two days, and in between, there are interviews, unofficial games, publicity photos, and group meals, the atmosphere at which hovers somewhere between annoying and hysterical, because someone always seems to be yelling-be it Shindou; Le-Ping, the youngest member of the Chinese team; Suyong; or Hyojung, who has taken Ifruhan's place and has clearly never learned about inside and outside voices.
Shindou is tall and lanky and rather alarmingly attractive sometimes, and he still glares at Yongha with inhuman eyes, and Yongha can still-just barely-beat him. After the cameras are off, Shindou storms out into the rain, and according to rumor doesn't come back to the host hotel until well after midnight, soaking wet and miserable, and pounds on Touya's door until he is allowed to enter. Judging by the bags under their eyes at breakfast the next morning and the fact that Touya is pointedly ignoring Shindou, Yongha can deduce that waking Touya in the middle of the night is not the best way to get sympathy. Yongha knows better than to try talking to Shindou, though he thinks he might actually want to and his Japanese is greatly improved.
A few hours before the ceremony to present China with the Cup they have won, Yongha leaves the game hall in search of coffee and once again runs into Yashiro, who is standing in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, scowl on face, clearly attempting to block his path and look as threatening as a ridiculously-dressed teenager at least ten centimeters shorter than he is can manage to look. He's failing pretty miserably, but it would probably not be sporting to say so, and he HAS promised Kim-seonsaengnim to be at least moderately polite during the course of this tournament. He tries to walk around. Yashiro doesn't let him. "Oi," he says, and Yongha sighs.
"My name," he says, "is not 'Oi,' chibi."
"My name isn't CHIBI," the other boy splutters, and Yongha shrugs and puts a hand on his shoulder to shove him aside none too gently and continue on his way while he's busy being affronted.
"Good," he says over his shoulder. "I'm so glad we had this conversation."
"Oi, BASTARD," comes from behind him, but he is too accustomed to walking away to the sound of expletives to turn back, and besides, he has better things to do than fuss with Yashiro Kiyoharu of all people. Even if he did provide several moments of unexpected entertainment in the Kiin elevator that one time.
~2004~
The problem with Shindou, mostly, is that Yongha doesn't really know what he WANTS to do about him. Two years since their eyes met over the goban, and Shindou is still on his mind at sporadic intervals. He might be eating breakfast or taking a taxi to a match or enjoying a nice dinner with one of his usual companions, and then suddenly something will remind him, and he'll stop and think of Shindou, maybe for just a moment-his energy and his anger and the intelligence sparkling somewhere beyond his childish behavior.
He's never really had experience with something like this before; mostly he doesn't circle around things for two weeks, let alone two years, but here he is, volunteering himself for a study group trip to Japan in three months, and he can be honest with himself and admit it's probably because he's just turned eighteen and the Young Stars Tournament is going to be held in China. If he doesn't go to Japan now, he's not likely to see Shindou again until the tournament returns to Korea in two years-unless, of course, he's mad enough to volunteer himself as chaperone for the three boys going to China this summer, and even Shindou isn't worth that.
So he packs his suitcase and he goes to Japan with a group of older pros in early April. A delegation comes to meet them at the airport, and Yongha realizes he's practically grinning when Shindou fixes him with a venomous gaze. He bows his head a little, mockingly, then turns to greet Ogata as though Shindou is of no interest to him at all. He's glad he came.
***
A week later, however, he is beginning to doubt his sanity. Shindou has apparently joined Ogata in his preferred activity of Touya-watching, and the sugary expression of longing on his face is almost more than any rational human being can stomach at any hour of the day, let alone at six in the morning over breakfast. They are getting ready to head out for a day trip to view the new cherry blossoms somewhere in the countryside as a well-deserved break from the endless games and study sessions and heated arguments in the Kiin cafeteria. Everyone needs the break, but getting up in time for a six o'clock breakfast doesn't seem particularly relaxing to Yongha, and if Shindou doesn't stop making eyes at Touya SOON, he will probably be very undignified and throw his bowl at his head. It's irritating. It's ruining his appetite. It's possibly going to ruin his whole day. It doesn't matter that no one else seems to be getting indigestion (in fact, Ogata looks faintly amused and the ridiculously cheerful man sitting next to him-Ashiwara, Yongha thinks, but they've never really spoken-is hiding a grin with his coffee cup); Yongha is annoyed.
Touya, naturally, is absolutely oblivious, sipping daintily on a cup of tea and for all the world looking as though half the table isn't focused on him. Yongha wonders what it is about the boy that seems to draw everyone's attention like this. He's a strong player, certainly, but otherwise unremarkable as far as Yongha can tell, except the fact that he has the world's ugliest clothes and is so polite it's painful.
And all of this is rather strange because really, Yongha has never been annoyed by Touya before, but he's simmering now.
Shindou still has hearts in his eyes, and that certainly won't do. "Aren't you glad we're getting out of the Institute for a day?" Yongha murmurs when there is a break in conversation, low enough that only Shindou, who is sitting across from him, is likely to hear. "You must be getting tired of losing to me." This is a lowbrow tactic, but it certainly gets Shindou's attention, gets his color up, and has him shouting in short order, which does wonders to restore Yongha's appetite. Touya's pointedly ignoring them, as though they are two small and annoying children, but that's for the best.
They troop onto the tour bus, and Yashiro 3-dan sidles up to him. "Oi," he says. "You could stop provoking him."
"First, you can stop addressing me as 'Oi,'" Yongha tells him. "And second, my relationship with Shindou really doesn't concern you."
"He's my FRIEND," the Japanese player insists, as if Yongha actually cares. "And YOU'RE-"
"Then you might tell him to try behaving less like a little girl," Yongha cuts him off, climbs on the bus, and purposely seats himself next to Ogata, where he knows none of the particularly annoying Japanese delegates will dare approach.
He discovers there is no peace to be found even in this corner; Ogata is smirking in a way that is altogether too self-satisfied. "I thought," he says, "that you always got what you wanted."
"I have NO idea what you're talking about, Seiji-san," Yongha tells him, using the familiarity to express his displeasure, and turns his attention to the window, as though the passing landscape can actually keep his attention. He's annoyed and altogether unsettled, and he doesn't like it. Shindou's sharing a seat with Touya and explaining something animatedly, hands waving in the air, and he doesn't like that, either. He's starting to wish he never came here; he doesn't like feeling like this. He's been waiting for an opportunity to present itself, SOMETHING to get Shindou out of his system, and it doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon.
Then, literally five hours later, out of nowhere, it comes.
***
Even he must admit that the spot chosen by the host committee is very pretty. The park is out of the way and quiet, there's a picturesque little stream at the bottom of the hill, and the sakura trees are weeping pink petals into the running water and all over everything else. There is plenty of food and sake (something he can get into, considering his worsening mood) and the ambiance is festive. Just after lunch, Touya wanders off towards the stream, and a few moment later, Shindou rises as well, looking equal parts determined and sick to his stomach, as though he is about to face a title match. He looks around, sighs, and follows after Touya, disappearing among the trees.
About fifteen minutes after that, Yongha stands as well, intending to head down to the public restrooms by the parking lot and relieve himself of some of the sake. He is just contemplating walking to the nearest train station and getting out of here, and never mind what anyone else says, when he spots Shindou stumbling out of a little grove of trees, looking none too steady on his feet and, as he approaches and Yongha can see him better, like his world has just come to an abrupt end. He stops and looks around blankly, as though unsure of what to do with himself, and he looks so incredibly, unbelievably lost that Yongha actually feels the bizarre urge to reach out and offer comfort, which is of course ridiculous. He isn't a nice person generally, and he doesn't do that sort of thing as a rule.
But he is certainly the kind of person who takes advantage of the situation, and this one looks either explosive or promising, depending. He approaches quietly, and Shindou doesn't even notice him until he speaks. "Shindou. You okay?"
Then Shindou looks at him, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, and tries for an angry retort, but all he manages is, "You… Like you could POSSIBLY… Don't even…" He can't seem to gather the energy to yell, though he certainly looks hysterical; Yongha thinks that he must have too much to say and no words to say it with. "Why the FUCK would you even ASK ME THAT! " he finally comes back with. The tears are threatening to spill over. "YOU DON'T CARE!"
Yongha shrugs and says, "I'm asking, aren't I?"
And Shindou just crumbles right before his eyes. Before he knows it, the Japanese player is clinging to him, probably just because he is convenient in a moment when he desperately needs someone to cling to. He is shaking and incoherent, and although Yongha doesn't generally have the patience to deal with this sort of thing, he puts an arm around him and after a moment fumbles for his phone one-handed, because he'd rather pay the exorbitant taxi fare for the suburbs than try to get Shindou onto a train in this state.
They make it back to Yongha's hotel two hours later, and Shindou seems to be out of tears. He stumbles in to sit on the bed with a look of someone suffering from shock. It's disconcerting to see him this way-Shindou has always been very animated and alive; now he looks like someone's broken doll. Not for the first time, Yongha wonders why he bothered to bring this hysterical teenager home when he could have just as easily let him be. Yongha opens the mini-bar and pours the first hard liquor he can find into a glass, then thrusts it at Shindou. Shindou drinks. Once his glass is empty, Yongha fills it again. The boy doesn't hesitate to down the second serving, though Yongha somehow doubts he is the kind to drink heavily or often.
He doesn't know what to say, but fortunately, the alcohol seems to have loosened Shindou's tongue, and he starts talking, though not about anything that Yongha can understand, and not just because he uses so much slang and his words are getting more slurred by the minute. He talks about the weather and the game he had with someone named Waya and his friend's school Go club and Yongha sits down next to him and listens without hearing, and when he seems drunk enough to miss if he tries to slap him, Yongha takes his face in his hands and leans in to kiss him, because he knows he's wanted to all along and he doubts there will ever be a better opportunity than this.
There is a moment of stillness, then with a sound like a sob, Shindou wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. He is clumsy at this and obviously rather drunk, and Yongha thinks he may actually never have kissed anyone before, but he can't fault him for trying. So he slips a hand under Shindou's shirt, guides him down onto the bed, ignores the tears on his lashes, and doesn't ask him whether he's sure about this or anything, because he knows that if Shindou is allowed to start thinking, he will shatter, and he wants him whole and breathing hard and close.
***
"This doesn't mean anything," Shindou tells him muzzily later, and Yongha almost laughs, because he just KNEW Shindou would be the talk-about-it type, even when there is nothing to be said.
"It doesn't need to mean anything," he says, and Shindou seems comforted by that, because he drops off to sleep, and fortunately for Yongha doesn't snore.
~2004-2006~
They don't talk about it after that, and over the course of the next year, that becomes pattern-the not talking about it, Shindou's occasional bouts of depression, shared hotel beds at international tournaments but never in either of their homes.
Going by Touya's face on the day after the picnic, it is very obvious that whatever has driven Shindou into this state has to do with him; as time passes, Yongha pieces most of it together and wonders at Touya's apparent stupidity, because as Shindou pulls himself back together, he also pulls away, and it's obvious that Touya minds, but now Shindou is the one not seeing what is right in front of him. Instead he puts his energy towards anything that isn't Touya; pretty soon he is in the running for several titles despite his youth and capable of winning one game out of three when he and Yongha play.
He never expected it to come about like this, but now his collection of hateful Japanese pros is complete; Touya also glares at him when they meet in public, especially if he has Shindou with him. Sometimes Yongha will lean in a little too close because he knows Touya is watching and murmur something so that only Shindou can hear, usually something nonsensical that will cause a laugh or a smack on the arm. Touya looks like he's unsure whether to kill someone else or himself at those moments, and Yongha relishes them because they make him feel powerful and victorious. He has things he could say to Touya about timing and about not wasting one's energy regretting a move made months ago, but he thinks his words hold more power because he doesn't say them, and Touya knows he knows, and has won the ultimate prize.
Shindou as an occasional lover and rival is even more satisfying than Shindou as a helpless target was. Now when Yongha gets the urge to touch, he can. He discovers that yes, shutting Shindou up by kissing him senseless is a good tactic, but he will generally resume the diatribe the moment he is allowed to breathe, so the trick is to make him forget every though in his head, up to and including his own name. In fact, he learns quite a few things about Shindou along the way, such as the fact that he enjoys screaming at his opponents after games, that he has an unfounded terror of Ogata, an imbecilic preference for Japanese ramen over the clearly superior Korean ramyeon and a propensity for sleeping sprawled all over the bed with no regard for anyone else.
It doesn't really surprise him when Shindou starts haltingly speaking Korean-he's in and out of the country frequently enough these days. They're not really together-though Suyong keeps trying to convince him they are-but they get along well enough about half the time and when Shindou makes it into the Honinbou round robin, it is Yongha who celebrates with him; he can't resist making a Shuusaku joke and Shindou screams at him for at least half an hour, at which point Yongha is determined to find out who has been teaching him his surprisingly extensive vocabulary of Korean swear words.
The first time Shindou beats him in an official match-about halfway through the Samsung Cup-is the first time Yongha really gets into shouting back because Shindou is gloating and it is driving him a little crazy. Because Shindou is clearly insane, the shouting match results in wild sex in the entry hall of Yongha's suite-he seems unable to wait until they can get across the suite to a bed or even the couch. "You really do get off on people yelling at you," Yongha points out bemusedly after. "How in the world did you get through school? I'm sure your teachers yelled at you on a regular basis. You can't possibly have been well-behaved."
"Oh shut up," Shindou says, and grabs his shirt from where it is hanging on the doorknob. He should give it up as a hopeless case, Yongha thinks, as there are some buttons missing, it is extremely wrinkled, and none of his hand smoothing can seem to make it pass for something that has NOT been torn from his person.
Yongha doesn't bother to do more than pull up his pants and buckle his belt. Everything needs to go to dry cleaning anyway. "Maybe it's a more recent fixation? Do tell me what triggered your strange fetish."
He's grinning but it is clear Shindou is not amused. "I told you," he says, "to shut up." He pulls his own pants up and stalks out of the hotel room looking like a cheap whore, slamming the door behind him. Yongha shakes his head and goes to the bath, knowing Shindou will be back in a few hours once he's gotten over himself.
***
Nearly two years pass this way, and then suddenly it ends as abruptly as it began. Shindou stops calling, stops visiting, and when he accompanies the young Japanese pros to the New Stars Tournament in Seoul that summer, he acts as though they barely know each other. Touya is on the fringes of every gathering, and Shindou is ignoring him too, but it's a different kind of ignoring; it is very obvious that he is hyper aware of every move Touya makes even if he refuses to acknowledge him. It's only a matter of time before something, or someone, breaks.
It isn't a surprise, not really, to watch them walk into a room side by side one day a few weeks later; Touya spots Yongha across the room and leans too close to Shindou to whisper something into his hair. Shindou laughs, and Touya gives Yongha a neutral look from across the room, but Yongha has faced him in matches before and knows that it means, "I have won." Because he refuses to bow his head in defeat, he turns on his heel and leaves.
They weren't together and it shouldn't matter and it's not like their arrangement was more than sex and the occasional game, but Yongha still finds himself unpleasantly shaken by such a cold and sudden dismissal. It isn't as though they were exclusive, or lovers in anything but the basest definition of the word, and there are plenty of people he can go to who will lick his wounds, but instead he goes home alone for several weeks running, trying and failing to understand the pain and uneasiness inside himself, unaware until now of the existence of such a thing as despair.
***
Life after Shindou is strangely empty. After awhile, Yongha slips back into his usual pattern to fill the emptiness: older men who spoil him, terrifying and humbling Kiwon novices, collecting wins against various local and international professionals. He's in the habit of going to Japan frequently by then, and he sees no reason to stop; he has the feeling that if he does it would be a concession of some sort, a giving up, and he never gives up anything. He sees Shindou occasionally, of course, because the world of professional Go is not that large, but they're strangers now, less than they ever were because Yongha senses that even if he were to taunt him, there would be no response, no flare of heat. Whatever has happened, Shindou has become immune to him.
He gets very drunk with Ogata once or twice, to the point where his memories become a little fuzzy. Mostly Ogata is courteous enough not to mention things that could make their time together uncomfortable, but Yongha seems to remember his hair being stroked once in something almost like gentleness and Ogata calling him a poor idiot, and the idea of that is so disturbing that he makes a point to avoid the man's bed thereafter.
Time passes. He learns to forget.
He runs into Yashiro again at an exhibition weekend in Seoul just before the New Year, and he supposes he should not be too surprised, because the Japanese pro has also been making waves lately, winning tournaments and contending for titles. They bow to each other, then Yashiro says almost pleasantly, "Come, I buy you a drink."
"You speak Korean now?" Yongha asks, but falls into step with him towards the hotel bar, because after all, why not?
"Like everyone else," Yashiro says, sounding annoyed. "I am getting sick of they never translate for me." Yongha wonders if it would be a kindness to mention he is using the feminine informal but decides to let it go for the amusement factor. He wonders if he was ever this awkward in Japanese.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been stalking me," he points out as he takes a seat at the bar.
"NO!" Yashiro says forcefully, but his face is ruddy with color, indicating that Yongha isn't entirely wrong.
"How cute. I have a fanboy stalker," Yongha says, leaning his elbows on the bar and smirking.
"I AM NOT CUTE!"
Yongha's smirk only deepens at the outrage. He realizes he's missed arguing with someone who isn't Suyong. "Obviously not, chibi. Where's my drink? I'm waiting."
"DO NOT CALL ME CHIBI!"
~2010~
In some mysterious way he cannot quite understand, the chibi's stuff keeps invading his house. Lately, he can barely find one of his own dress shirts without going through at least three that are a size too small, and he knows he would NEVER have bought that skull and crossbones tie hanging on the tie rack, but it's there grinning at him when he's getting dressed for an awards banquet and he's torn between glaring at it and putting it on just for the hell of it. He's getting really sick of this mess, because he's put on the too-small shirts a couple of times when he was in a rush, and the buttons tend to pop if he moves wrong, and that just makes him look stupid, and Ko-Chunweon is NEVER stupid, a fact his terrified private students can certainly attest to.
He puts on a sage green tie. He glares at the skull and crossbones. He shrugs into his suit jacket, tucks his wallet into his pocket, and heads out.
The doorman bows to him and he inclines his head in return, because it is unwise to be rude to the hired help. The staff in this building is a treasure because everyone is so discreet, and he doesn't want to give them a reason to reassess their behavior. He's got enough fans to be jokingly nicknamed the baduk idol by daring younger players, and he can only imagine the sort of reaction he can expect if someone in the media is informed of the fact that the Japanese Gosei occasionally stumbles into his apartment with him in varying states of intoxication and undress. He still enjoys a good scandal now and again, but he tries to keep his name out of it and watch from the sidelines; one is expected to be somewhat more conservative if one is to teach, and if he doesn't teach, titleholder or not, he won't be able to afford the sort of life he's grown used to.
And really, if Yashiro-Gosei has no concept of privacy, SOMEONE has to concern himself.
The doorman hails him a conveniently passing taxi and he slides into the car only to discover he isn't alone in the back seat-and shortly the other passenger is nearly in his lap and kissing him in a very insistent way while the mortified driver makes a strangled sort of sound and tries to find somewhere else to look. Yongha gives a warning bite to his companion's lower lip when he seems to be getting too eager, causing him to curse and pull back. "The Hankuk Kiwon," he tells the driver, who seems overjoyed to have something normal to do. Then he sighs and says with the most annoyance he can muster, "Why should I even be surprised that you are stalking me again?"
"That might be more convincing if you hadn't just had your hand down my pants, you know," says the owner of the stupid skull and crossbones tie, and at least he's got enough sense to say it in Japanese, though how the driver could have failed to notice what had almost happened in the back seat of his vehicle, Yongha can't imagine.
"You caught me by surprise, or I might have punched you," he says, and he's trying to be annoyed but he's grinning despite himself because it's been two months at least. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
"Going to the Kiwon dinner," is the prompt answer, because even when they do wildly inappropriate things like this, they like to have excuses. He's speaking Korean again, indicating he's probably not going to say anything too outrageous. "That girl I tutored while you were away last year has finally squeaked through the exam and was kind enough to invite me."
Yongha is actually rather proud of Hawon, who has flown through the ranks ever since he consented to take her in. She has monopolized his time terribly the last few years and he is glad this is coming to an end. He still isn't sure why the Japanese pro had taken over her lessons when he was called away to China last winter, except he had just been there the way he sometimes was, and she had lost a game miserably to him shortly before Yongha's departure and demanded that he stay. He managed to kill every plant in the house while he was there on his own, and Hawon had moved up in rank. "In two months, you probably didn't have enough time to do her sufficient harm, and so she's wise enough to thank you," Yongha says acidly, then adds, "and why is your stupidly ugly tie hanging in my closet? How long has it been there?"
"Your hair products are overrunning my bathroom cabinet, so I don't think you have any room to talk," is the prompt response, and suddenly Yongha realizes: holy shit, it's been over four years, and this man who has just tried to molest him in a taxi has his own TOOTHBRUSH in Yongha's apartment and the pantry is somehow always stocked with his favorite soda although Yongha absolutely hates it, and this all seems perfectly normal to him despite the fact that they don't even live in the same country. And he doesn't take casual lovers anymore and in fact he hasn't done so in years-he can barely remember HOW to pick up a stranger at a club, and while his students mostly look at him with a healthy mix of terror and lust, he's never once taken advantage.
It's preposterous. In fact, it's just STUPID. THEY'RE obviously a little stupid. And here he was thinking he was NEVER stupid.
The taxi pulls up to the curb and he's laughing so hard he can't climb out of it. "Oi, have you gone completely crazy?"
"Gentlemen," assays the driver.
He tries to hold in the laughter. "Kiyoharu, I'm exactly as sane as you are," he replies, ignoring the driver, and the use of the name which he generally doesn't bother with unless he's particularly warm and sleepy and sated has Kiyoharu's eyes nearly bugging out of his head. "I think," he says, "I'm going to buy a house. Maybe in China."
"Uh," Kiyoharu says, blinks, then adds, "I hate to ask. I really do, because it's still not going to make any sense after you tell me. But WHY?" He's looking at him as though he's gone a little insane after all. Which is actually the case, but they must be equally crazy to carry on this… relationship for four years without ever actually using the word, or any other word related to it. He contemplates opening his mouth and saying, hey, I think I'm probably in love with you, so why not? Somehow, he doesn't think this is the place, and anyway, Kiyoharu may have a heart attack, and then where will they be?
"…Gentlemen," says the driver, sounding like the word is being choked out of him, "in case you haven't noticed, we're here. Your fare-"
"Because," Yongha says as patiently as he can in light of this revelation, fumbling for his wallet, "your ugly shit does not fit in my closet. You need your OWN closet. And we haven't lived THERE yet, so the taxi drivers don't know us." He shoves some money at the man behind the wheel and grabs his confounded lover's wrist to pull him out onto the sidewalk, then, simply on a whim, doesn't let go.