Fifthmus Fic: Children (For Issen4, From Lanerose)
TITLE: Children
AUTHOR: lanerose
RECIPIENT: issen4
PAIRING: Kouyo/Akiko, with Akira/Hikaru overtones
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: On people who love go, and those who love them.
NOTES: So… this fic sort of wound up more as Akiko backstory then Akiko-meets-Mitsuko story. I did get to that part, but it's definitely not as prompt focused as it might have been. ;_; Sorry about that! Happy Fifthmus in July!!
Children
For Issen4
Long before she loved and married Kouyo, Touya Akiko loved go.
"Think carefully, Akiko-chan," her father said as they sat with the goban between them late on a Sunday afternoon. He cradled a fresh cup of tea on his hand, breathing in the steam. She rubbed a black stone back and forth between her fingers. At age four, she had barely managed tsumego in that position. By age eleven, their games (played with a nine stone handicap on days like this one, when he faced her with all his strength) slipped deeper and deeper into yose.
She thought she saw it - a point that would shore up her defenses and knock him backwards just that little bit. But was it the right move? She hesitated. There was no better move. Nothing else that she could do here, nothing to go further there. She nodded, and placed the stone firmly on the board.
"Hm," her father said, eyeing her position on the board. His head lifted and he smiled at her. "A half-moku to you, Akiko-chan. Thank you for the game."
A smile burst across her face. "Thank you, father."
At age fourteen, Akiko played a decent game of go, but found she preferred Sunday afternoons at the mall over Sunday afternoons with her father. She had friends, and shopping, and boys. Her mother rejoiced each time she hurried off. For want of someone to teach, her father began to host study sessions in place of their usual games. By age sixteen, Akiko decided to rejoin her father on Sundays. Her mother despaired until she realized it had more to do with a certain new student than any increased passion for go.
"A man like that is no good for you," her mother said one afternoon when they were in the midst of preparing some mid-session snacks. Akiko looked up sharply from the tea she was steeping to find her mother calmly arranging anpan on a tray. "Men like that, especially one like him, will always be married to the game."
"No." Akiko placed the tea on the tray, and took the tray from her mother. Their eyes met, and in her mother's gaze Akiko saw something for the first time. She smiled, but only with her mouth as she said reproachfully, "He will be married to me."
True, Kouyo loved go as much as Akiko loved breathing. His love for the game shone in his respect for it, which translated into a dignity that covered him like a mantle for fear his behaviour might shame the game. It twinkled in the corner of his eye when someone pointed out a position he hadn't considered, and hung in the calm lowering of his head when he lost to a worthy opponent.
He also loved Akiko, loved her so much more. She knew, because she almost always won when they played. Sometimes her game was so poor - once or twice, so deliberately poor - that even he could not turn it to her advantage without being blatant. Her eye for subtlety was finer than she let on until long after she had made good on her promise to her mother that he would be married to her. The game was their first son, born out wedlock but loved all the same, a shared love that took nothing from their love for each other but instead made it stronger.
It was fortunate, really, that their first child and their second - more legitimate and pinker - son played nicely with each other.
The airport thrummed with activity that early May morning, when the time came to let her children take their first steps away. Trains and taxis hurried quickly in, dropping off their passengers and scurrying back out. In the terminal, mothers tugged children along as their salary-men husbands, for once not at work, cluelessly led the way to security.
"It's crowded," her younger son observed as he slipped back to her side, folded copy of Go Weekly peeking out of the back pocket of his carry-on.
She nodded absently at his remark. He was seventeen, and off to the Hokuto Cup in China. Isumi Shinichiro, the chaperone for the trip, had gone to Beijing ahead of the boys to get things ready. Yashiro Kiyoharu, the third participant, had taken the train back to Kansai that morning to see his family briefly after two days at the Touya residence in Tokyo, and would fly out that afternoon. Shindou Hikaru was mercifully late, delaying the time when her son would leave.
"I'll be fine," Akira said, smiling at her. His hands hung loose and easy at his side. Raising her son made him easier to read than his father, but the older he got, the more she couldn't see in his cheeks, his lips, his eyes. Their hands, though - their hands never lied. "I haven't ever had a problem while you and father traveled, have I?"
"True." Akiko bit her lip. He was seventeen. Seventeen, and she had left him on his own for months at a time when he was even younger. Left him with neighbors to check in on him and his father's students to keep an eye out for him at the Institute and plans to catch a flight home the minute that a hint of something wrong reached her ears if his big brother's friends weren't looking out for him, but left him all the same.
"Are you looking forward to the competition?" she asked.
"It should be interesting," her boy said. His eyes sharpened as he stared at a point somewhere over her shoulder. "Korea's team is unchanged from last year, and China's looks to be adding new strength." He shook his head and refocused on her. "Japan has not been idle, either."
Akiko resisted the urge to tuck his hair behind his ears and tell him how wonderful he would do. Akira wouldn't appreciate it, not at seventeen and about to make his first trip to Beijing all by himself.
"Oi, Touya!" someone shouted. Akiko turned just in time to watch a familiar set of blond bangs appear as Shindou-kun, whom after two days as a resident of her household she really ought to be calling Hikaru-san or Hikaru, skidded to a stop before him. The boy's green eyes sparkled as he looked her son over and said with a snort, "Nice suit."
"Shindou!" Akira hissed, glancing apologetically at her. She smiled a little at him, and a little more at Hikaru, whose dark boot-cut jeans, pale blue collared shirt, and deep navy blazer have just the right amount of disarray for someone his age. Hikaru wasn't to know that she bought that lavender suit for Akira, to bring out the illusion of color in his black hair. Akira, likewise, had no idea that she firmly intended to consider him her little boy until he told her to keep her hands off his wardrobe.
"Hikaru!" The crowd parted, allowing a harried woman to emerge beside them. She brandished a suit bag at the blonde. "You know better than to get out of the car so quickly! You can't represent Japan with just the clothes on your back, your passport, and a foldable goban! I know Isumi-san is meeting you at the airport, but -"
Akiko watched them, the sound around her faded. She had wanted that once. That life that needed more than clothes, a passport, and a goban. In some ways, she still did - she wanted Kouyo, she wanted Akira, she wanted Hikaru if he'd let them have him, and -
Akira stifled a laugh as the Shindous waved their arms at each other, talking over each other. Surprised, Akiko turned to him. In doing so, she caught sight of the clock behind him.
"Your flight will be boarding soon," she said mildly, skipping the litany of things he already knows not to do in China and giving him only the reproachful look he deserved for laughing at the others. He nodded, and grabbed Shindou's wrist.
"Apologies, Shindou-san, but we'll miss our flight," Akira said with a bow to his friend's birth mother as he dragged Shindou - the bag slung over his shoulder rather than his mother's - toward security.
"Have a good trip!" Hikaru's mother shouted. The woman turned away, smiling at Akiko and shaking her head in what was probably meant to be commiseration. "Those boys and that game. I'll never understand it. Thank you for looking after him."
"It was our pleasure," Akiko replied, and though her smile did not reach her eyes, Shindou-san did not seem to notice. Shindou-san bowed to her briefly, then hurried from the airport. Akiko watched her leave. At age fourteen, she had tried to give up go for that life. The life focused on her home, and her salary-man husband, and her single child.
At age forty-five, she glanced at her three boys, two hands still linked as they growled joseki at each other and waited in line -
- And couldn't find the appeal of anything but this.
AUTHOR: lanerose
RECIPIENT: issen4
PAIRING: Kouyo/Akiko, with Akira/Hikaru overtones
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: On people who love go, and those who love them.
NOTES: So… this fic sort of wound up more as Akiko backstory then Akiko-meets-Mitsuko story. I did get to that part, but it's definitely not as prompt focused as it might have been. ;_; Sorry about that! Happy Fifthmus in July!!
Children
For Issen4
Long before she loved and married Kouyo, Touya Akiko loved go.
"Think carefully, Akiko-chan," her father said as they sat with the goban between them late on a Sunday afternoon. He cradled a fresh cup of tea on his hand, breathing in the steam. She rubbed a black stone back and forth between her fingers. At age four, she had barely managed tsumego in that position. By age eleven, their games (played with a nine stone handicap on days like this one, when he faced her with all his strength) slipped deeper and deeper into yose.
She thought she saw it - a point that would shore up her defenses and knock him backwards just that little bit. But was it the right move? She hesitated. There was no better move. Nothing else that she could do here, nothing to go further there. She nodded, and placed the stone firmly on the board.
"Hm," her father said, eyeing her position on the board. His head lifted and he smiled at her. "A half-moku to you, Akiko-chan. Thank you for the game."
A smile burst across her face. "Thank you, father."
At age fourteen, Akiko played a decent game of go, but found she preferred Sunday afternoons at the mall over Sunday afternoons with her father. She had friends, and shopping, and boys. Her mother rejoiced each time she hurried off. For want of someone to teach, her father began to host study sessions in place of their usual games. By age sixteen, Akiko decided to rejoin her father on Sundays. Her mother despaired until she realized it had more to do with a certain new student than any increased passion for go.
"A man like that is no good for you," her mother said one afternoon when they were in the midst of preparing some mid-session snacks. Akiko looked up sharply from the tea she was steeping to find her mother calmly arranging anpan on a tray. "Men like that, especially one like him, will always be married to the game."
"No." Akiko placed the tea on the tray, and took the tray from her mother. Their eyes met, and in her mother's gaze Akiko saw something for the first time. She smiled, but only with her mouth as she said reproachfully, "He will be married to me."
True, Kouyo loved go as much as Akiko loved breathing. His love for the game shone in his respect for it, which translated into a dignity that covered him like a mantle for fear his behaviour might shame the game. It twinkled in the corner of his eye when someone pointed out a position he hadn't considered, and hung in the calm lowering of his head when he lost to a worthy opponent.
He also loved Akiko, loved her so much more. She knew, because she almost always won when they played. Sometimes her game was so poor - once or twice, so deliberately poor - that even he could not turn it to her advantage without being blatant. Her eye for subtlety was finer than she let on until long after she had made good on her promise to her mother that he would be married to her. The game was their first son, born out wedlock but loved all the same, a shared love that took nothing from their love for each other but instead made it stronger.
It was fortunate, really, that their first child and their second - more legitimate and pinker - son played nicely with each other.
The airport thrummed with activity that early May morning, when the time came to let her children take their first steps away. Trains and taxis hurried quickly in, dropping off their passengers and scurrying back out. In the terminal, mothers tugged children along as their salary-men husbands, for once not at work, cluelessly led the way to security.
"It's crowded," her younger son observed as he slipped back to her side, folded copy of Go Weekly peeking out of the back pocket of his carry-on.
She nodded absently at his remark. He was seventeen, and off to the Hokuto Cup in China. Isumi Shinichiro, the chaperone for the trip, had gone to Beijing ahead of the boys to get things ready. Yashiro Kiyoharu, the third participant, had taken the train back to Kansai that morning to see his family briefly after two days at the Touya residence in Tokyo, and would fly out that afternoon. Shindou Hikaru was mercifully late, delaying the time when her son would leave.
"I'll be fine," Akira said, smiling at her. His hands hung loose and easy at his side. Raising her son made him easier to read than his father, but the older he got, the more she couldn't see in his cheeks, his lips, his eyes. Their hands, though - their hands never lied. "I haven't ever had a problem while you and father traveled, have I?"
"True." Akiko bit her lip. He was seventeen. Seventeen, and she had left him on his own for months at a time when he was even younger. Left him with neighbors to check in on him and his father's students to keep an eye out for him at the Institute and plans to catch a flight home the minute that a hint of something wrong reached her ears if his big brother's friends weren't looking out for him, but left him all the same.
"Are you looking forward to the competition?" she asked.
"It should be interesting," her boy said. His eyes sharpened as he stared at a point somewhere over her shoulder. "Korea's team is unchanged from last year, and China's looks to be adding new strength." He shook his head and refocused on her. "Japan has not been idle, either."
Akiko resisted the urge to tuck his hair behind his ears and tell him how wonderful he would do. Akira wouldn't appreciate it, not at seventeen and about to make his first trip to Beijing all by himself.
"Oi, Touya!" someone shouted. Akiko turned just in time to watch a familiar set of blond bangs appear as Shindou-kun, whom after two days as a resident of her household she really ought to be calling Hikaru-san or Hikaru, skidded to a stop before him. The boy's green eyes sparkled as he looked her son over and said with a snort, "Nice suit."
"Shindou!" Akira hissed, glancing apologetically at her. She smiled a little at him, and a little more at Hikaru, whose dark boot-cut jeans, pale blue collared shirt, and deep navy blazer have just the right amount of disarray for someone his age. Hikaru wasn't to know that she bought that lavender suit for Akira, to bring out the illusion of color in his black hair. Akira, likewise, had no idea that she firmly intended to consider him her little boy until he told her to keep her hands off his wardrobe.
"Hikaru!" The crowd parted, allowing a harried woman to emerge beside them. She brandished a suit bag at the blonde. "You know better than to get out of the car so quickly! You can't represent Japan with just the clothes on your back, your passport, and a foldable goban! I know Isumi-san is meeting you at the airport, but -"
Akiko watched them, the sound around her faded. She had wanted that once. That life that needed more than clothes, a passport, and a goban. In some ways, she still did - she wanted Kouyo, she wanted Akira, she wanted Hikaru if he'd let them have him, and -
Akira stifled a laugh as the Shindous waved their arms at each other, talking over each other. Surprised, Akiko turned to him. In doing so, she caught sight of the clock behind him.
"Your flight will be boarding soon," she said mildly, skipping the litany of things he already knows not to do in China and giving him only the reproachful look he deserved for laughing at the others. He nodded, and grabbed Shindou's wrist.
"Apologies, Shindou-san, but we'll miss our flight," Akira said with a bow to his friend's birth mother as he dragged Shindou - the bag slung over his shoulder rather than his mother's - toward security.
"Have a good trip!" Hikaru's mother shouted. The woman turned away, smiling at Akiko and shaking her head in what was probably meant to be commiseration. "Those boys and that game. I'll never understand it. Thank you for looking after him."
"It was our pleasure," Akiko replied, and though her smile did not reach her eyes, Shindou-san did not seem to notice. Shindou-san bowed to her briefly, then hurried from the airport. Akiko watched her leave. At age fourteen, she had tried to give up go for that life. The life focused on her home, and her salary-man husband, and her single child.
At age forty-five, she glanced at her three boys, two hands still linked as they growled joseki at each other and waited in line -
- And couldn't find the appeal of anything but this.