Square One Part 3
----
As soon as Akira read the kifu in depth, he had known. The hands hidden underneath, the one deft style that united them all -- he has spent is life studying patterns, finding connections, and reading situations out to their end.
The Tengen kifu hold patterns that he knows almost as well as he knows his father's ... and ones that are a brother to his own igo, in many ways.
But Shindou hasn't had the luxury of distance -- in this, he is not a player but the one being played.
Yet, Shindou doesn't turn to Ogata first. His eyes lock on Akira.
"You knew?"
"Yes," Akira does not break Shindou's gaze. He cannot nor will he take back his actions; they are a necessity. Shindou should be able to see that.
When Akira opens his mouth, however -- whether to explain or to justify -- he does not quite know except that something must be said, Shindou shakes his head.
"Smartass," he says, and holds up his hand. He wiggles his fingers imperiously. "Help me up. I don't wanna face those bastards sitting down anymore."
Akira pulls, and something in him feels a whole lot like relief when Shindou does not pull away even after he gains his footing.
For a long moment, Shindou studies Nara and Ogata. His mouth straightens into thin line. "Well?"
"Oh." Nara licks his lips. "Um..."
"Huh. I thought the screaming would've started by now." Ogata leans against Nara's shoe cupboard and bends the hand holding the cigarette towards his chin, cupping it.
"No. I know why you did it," Shindou says.
"Really? Ah, good. Consistency is well enough, but I hate being redundant. But still ..." Ogata lets out a long breath. Smoke trails like a visible question mark.
Akira still has a hand around Shindou's shoulder, but he neither loosens or tightens his grip. Shindou always answers as he will.
"Atari, wasn't it?" Shindou finally says. "A double atari -- creating stakes where I can't move unless I give something away. You may not believe Nara-kun's theory, but either I admit to creating a program like Sai, or I admit Sai is not a program and have to explain who or what he is or ..."
"At any way you turn, at least I'll have some answers. Finally," Ogata nods. "But what about you, Akira? No words? Where's that passion you showed so much of last night?"
How strange that it is the use of his first name, without the normal diminutive, that makes Shindou narrow his eyes and take a stiff step towards Ogata.
In truth, Akira hasn't quite figured out exactly how he feels about Ogata's role in the whole matter, but he takes the errant thought and locks it away for later, when he has time to examine the moves made. Later, when Shindou isn't hunched into himself, as if preparing for the next blow to fall.
For now, the pieces are still in play.
"In igo, the opponent who matters the most at any moment is the one sitting right in front of you," Akira replies. "At least that's what my father says, and I feel it's advice worth heeding. You were in front of me, the entire time. So I figured ..."
Ogata smirks as he takes a long drag of his cigarette.
"I also thought about what you said to me -- about it being an inside job. You're right. Yet, you also are most likely the reason this has only been reported to the Nihon Ki-in, and not to Igo Weekly or to someone who would have used it against Shindou ... it's the reason why there has been so little scandal. It speaks of long experience of the games both on and off the board. No one of the lower or middle dans could have done it. Not even most of the upper ones. I doubt Nara-kun and whomever he was working with could've quite be ... so ... delicate about the particulars."
"Hmm, if you say so," Ogata says languidly.
"As Shindou said, we both know why. But I still don't understand the how, not completely," Akira says. "Nara-kun? You were doing so well ..."
"Er. Ah. Um. Actually, we didn't ask Ogata-sensei, not until we were really ready and realized we needed some help with the final analysis ... And um, it took some convincing and we had to show him the programming ... and yeah. You see, we were going to challenge Shindou-sensei with a prediction in Igo Weekly and on several igo sites. Ogata-sensei ... um ... err ... convinced us," Nara shifts his weight from foot to foot, hands darting nervously to adjust his glasses "of exactly how unwise that would be."
Nara-kun looks extremely sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck. "How the program works ... well, we couldn't even predict anything until at least after the opening fuseki, when we had a base pattern to draw from. We had one person watching the game in real time over the net, and she would then input the first moves. Then the program generated the sequence of moves that had the highest probability of occurring given the strategy shown in the opening. Ogata-sensei would make corrections to the pattern, based on what he knew -- so it wasn't even the computer, entirely. After all that, one of my team members would then call the institute while another team member read the results to me. Though ... that part's kinda cool."
Nara takes off his thick eyeglasses, turning the frame over so Akira and Shindou can see the grooves etched into one of the earpieces. "All spy tech and everything. Though I really do need to wear glasses. But yeah, it took countless minds, countless computers, and I won't even mention how many servers."
"I didn't notice," Shindou murmurs. "How could I not notice it was a computer ... I lost to a computer program. Four to one ..."
"Shindou-sensei ... in the end, it wasn't a free thinking program. It relied on Ogata-sensei's input, and my own instincts as an igo player. I ... I can play on my own and at a pro level. I DO play on my own power and I did play every game up to the Tengen tournament," Nara repositions his glasses, then peers intently through them at Shindou. "When you made that mistake, the programming couldn't adapt, since it depended on you making the strongest move possible at any time. I had to play on my own. You totally creamed me!"
"Or in other words, it isn't anything to be ashamed of, Shindou," Ogata remarks, causing Akira to look up sharply. The hand with the cigarette is hanging casually at Ogata's side, but there's something in how the fingers have bent, ever so slightly as if at the ready, the denotes the older pro's seriousness. "If you had known what you were going to play -- you would've won. Your fourth game proves it. You had prepared for and were expecting Nara. As it was, you were playing against not only my strategies, but Sai's, Shuusaku honinbou's, Touya-meijin ... and others."
"Like I said before, we weren't questioning your igo abilities, Shindou-sensei," Nara says, "And I will definitely announce my forfeit of the matches and the title. Look, I even put that transfer into your bank accounts to prove I didn't do it for the money! Though in retrospect --"
"That made me look even more guilty, you bastard!" Shindou growls.
Wincing, Nara holds up both of his hands. "I guess I deserve that. I'm not a genius at everything you know! Stuff like that ... it was the only way I thought I could be fair. And I honestly wanted to play you fairly too but this was my only chance --"
"You will not be able to play again, not as a pro," Akira says, "The Nihon Ki-in won't overlook this."
"I know," Nara replies. "But for a long while now, the Nihon Ki-in have been denying the possibility of computer-based artificial intelligence capable of playing on tournament levels. When I approached them a year ago, they refused to consider even the slightest possibility or arrange any match --"
The slightest hint of bitterness tinges Nara's voice. "They see it as a threat. As if igo players could really be replaced by computers. We're not trying to do that. We just want become better and it doesn't always mean in igo. In some ways, programming and igo -- it's the same thing, down to the binary systems. Whether you use white or black stones, 1's or 0's, we're all just trying to reach that one unifying theory or that one hand of god. But the Nihon Kin-in don't see it that way."
"To be honest, I don't either," Shindou admits. "But you do have a really strong program. And they will have to listen now."
"I don't know about that. You'd be surprised how people can find ways not to listen. But if it came down to a decision between finding SAI and remaining a pro ... well ..." Nara takes a deep breath. Both of his hands have tightened into fists.
"Things you really want, that really mean something ... Hell, I know there are prices you have to pay. Shindou-sensei, will you now please ... the SAI program ... if you have a copy of it, or know the programmer -- it has applications beyond just igo you know? There's still nothing like SAI in the world! An artificial intelligence program capable of free thinking and autonomous strategy ... it would benefit the world by giving a boost to advanced robotics. Like cars who can anticipate their owners' mistakes, robotic surgeons that can deal with emergencies by calculating quicker than human doctors -- you have to understand why we forced you like this. It's important."
And like something out of an old Japanese novel, or perhaps a samurai drama, Nara kneels -- actually kneels with his head bowed and palms flat on the floor -- in front of Shindou.
Shindou closes his eyes tightly, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Akira finds himself wanting to either laugh at or dismiss the pure ridiculousness of what he sees.
But then he remembers.
Nara is very young.
And beyond that, both Akira and Shindou know something of the need for old rituals and extravagances to express a passion so strong that one can devote a lifetime to it.
"Please, Shindou-sensei. I don't know why you pulled SAI, but I thought if I showed you I was almost good enough, that I had developed a program almost as powerful as the original SAI, if you'd recognize how I won, and that ... that it's good enough, right? To bring SAI back?"
Shindou's entire body has gone taunt, as if every nerve has been wound so tight that his very bones will snap at the next heartbeat. Even though Akira has known his rival for years now, he cannot begin to guess at the expression on Shindou's face, or what it might mean.
He knows how Shindou looks when the other is regretting something. Or is angry. Or is ashamed. Or has lost (in games or otherwise). Or has won.
Shindou's face shows something that encompasses all of those emotions, but that's not quite all, either. Shindou shudders, slightly, and bites his bottom lip so hard that Akira knows he must taste blood.
Yet, when Akira puts a light hand on his shoulder, Shindou leans into the touch. He brings his own hand up as well, brushing Akira's fingers briefly.
And just as quickly, the terrible tension knotting up inside Shindou seems to loosen.
"I know," Shindou says finally as he wipes a hand across his face. "I know how you feel. But nothing you can give up will bring Sai back. And Sai's not your holy grail. Though ... you're not the first obsessed asshole to see him that way."
"Hmph." Ogata's mouth quirks upward. The hand with the cigarette sketches a mock bow in the air. "Your powers of insinuation are as strong as ever, Shindou-kun."
"It wasn't exactly an insinuation, you asshole!" Shindou growls.
"I staked my reputation on this and I accept the consequences. I won't even claim to have been moved by any sort of humanitarian impulses like Nara-kun here. It's purely for selfish reasons," Ogata says. "You're not that naive, Shindou. As you said, you know why. But since I did go to some length of trouble, will you finally tell me who? If not you? Who played me that night, so long ago, when I was half drunk? And who played Touya-Meijin?"
Ogata exhales, long and loud, as if he has been holding a breath since the night started. Smoke streams out of his mouth, and for a moment, it is the only thing that moves in the still air.
"I'm sorry, Nara ..." turning pointedly away from Ogata, Shindou shakes his head. "Sai isn't a program. Sai ... was human."
"But the Shuusaku components, and how the basic programming updated and --"
"No," Shindou states firmly.
"Ah." Nara touches his glasses. His hands are clenched. When he lifts his glasses to scrub at his eyes, all of them, even Ogata, look away.
"But you're right in everything else; I was the one who unleashed him onto the internet world. I was the one in the internet cafes, and I was the one who played the netgo for him. Without me, he didn't play," Shindou admits. "But it's not like that."
Nara nods, then bows. "Thank you, Shindou-sensei. I still ... don't understand all of it," He admits slowly. "But thank you."
Akira is somewhat amazed that Nara is still able to straighten up proudly.
"You did have the talent," Akira says, softly. "At your age ... if the games you played before Shindou's matches were indeed your own. You made it up to the Tengen title. I'll speak to my father, and see ---"
"No." Nara states firmly. "I do love go. I'm good at it. But finding this ... I'll be more than okay -- you have any idea what a hack-- uh ... programmer my caliber can make?"
He smiles, and something sharp lingers at the corners of his mouth. "And I'm nearly there, Shindou-sensei. 'Cause with Sai ...watching the replay of the games, thinking just ...what if - we'll keep improving on SAI II and one day, it'll be able to beat you, without help."
Shindou raises an eyebrow. "But you know, I'm also getting stronger too."
Nara nods, one hand pushing up his glasses confidently. "I'm counting on it."
"Yeah yeah, enough, that's nice. It still leaves the basic question though," Ogata shoulders back into the conversation. "Who is Sai? I've had enough of you answering me with more questions, Shindou!"
"And you're just gonna set me up again until I tell, right?" Shindou grits through his teeth.
Ogata merely waves his cigarette.
"Why can't you just forget about it? No matter where you look or how, you won't find him. I should know. I've ... been looking too!"
For a moment, Shindou's face reminds Akira of the time he chased Shindou down at his school, demanding the reasons why Shindou has dropped so many of his games.
The aching honesty there ... and the resignation are the same.
"I can't," Ogata states simply. "As Nara-kun said, some things go beyond titles. And perhaps," he gives a sidelong glance to Akira, "I just take after my sensei. It's not just the games, or the titles ... but who we play as well. And the possibilities therein."
Shindou heaves a huge sigh. He leans one shoulder against the side wall of the hallway and rubs his forehead with the other hand.
"His full name is Fujiwara no Sai -- but it's not in any database or registry," Shindou says softly, "And even if it was, he is gone now and he is not coming back."
Shindou walks up to Ogata, so close that it makes Akira feel uncomfortable. "I can't answer your questions with anything but questions because that's all I have. I don't know why he left. But if you still want a fight, face me. I'm all that remains. To be absolutely honest, you've spent this entire time chasing ghosts."
For a long moment, Ogata stares at Shindou. Then, taking a long drag of his cigarette, he blows the smoke into Shindou's face.
"HEY!"
Ogata chuckles. "No regrets, Shindou-kun."
For a moment, Shindou stares at him, his mouth twisting in a grimace. Then he sighs.
"We had our own reasons why he did not play anyone in public. But you did play him once, Ogata-sensei. That's all I can give you of Sai. That game was real. Though you only saw me -- Sai was there. He thought you were a worthy opponent, and if he could have, he would have played you again. "
Ogata blinks, mouth half opening.
"And about what you said before, about selfish actions ... you're right. I'm not that naive. Once, you helped a certain talent get into the Five Stars Institute even though that kid might've become a rival someday. Once you goaded a rather reluctant pro to take another good look at a rising insei. I wonder ... what were you really thinking when you saw Nara-kun. About possibilties ... and igo." Shindou raises an eyebrow.
Before anything else can be said, though, there's a pounding on the door and a flurry of voices.
"Ah, that would be Waya and Tsutsui-san. I called them here, and they have evidence, traced through the computers," Akira says. "Waya has also called the Institute. Just in case."
Ogata bows formally, his posture stiff and straight. "I guess this is the part that I say, 'till next time."
---
It is long past midnight before they finish.
Tsutsui and Waya had been understandably anxious and puzzled. However, they both had done as Akira asked; the Nihon Ki-in has been dutifully informed through Waya. Tsutsui had his laptop in hand.
The meeting between Tsutsui and Nara had been something of an eye opening experience; Shindou had mentioned that his longtime friend was normally reserved to the point of shyness. Tsutsui had neither been shy nor reserved when he had confronted Nara, and his expression had only darkened when Nara had shown him the computer. Nara, too, had clenched his fists and had replied in sharp, curt sentences when Tsustui had asked questions.
"I see," Tsutsui had said after a cursory examination of the program. "But did you factor in the possibility of fractal thinking?"
From there, the conversation had quickly devolved into incomprehensible strings of English acronyms with the occasional Japanese word thrown in, as if they were speaking an actual language. (Akira wonders, briefly, if he and Shindou had ever looked quite so -- he didn't want to use the word puerile, but there really isn't any other word -- when they argue over the nuances of a game.)
Ogata had spent half the time looking as if he wanted to join in and the other half looking as if he wanted to smack the both of them. Unable to do either, he had finished a pack of cigarettes in the interim, looking rather miffed about not being an expert and being blatantly ignored.
Meanwhile, Waya had cornered Shindou and badgered him about details regarding his forfeits. And Nara. And of course, Sai.
By the end of it all, however, Tsutsui and Nara had come to some sort of computer programmer understanding. Waya and Ogata have apparently discussed what will happen in the Nihon Ki-in. Nara is definitely going to be suspended, but Akira senses that Ogata -- as always -- will manage to work something in his own favor.
When everyone finally runs out of words, accusations, and the general need for drama, Akira finds himself standing at the curb with Shindou and staring into intermittent headlights of the late night traffic.
Of course, both of he and Shindou have been offered rides, but Akira declines, as does Shindou. Facing the crush of the late night trains is about as unbearable as facing the awkward conversations of their igo peers in the cramped space of a car -- whether it's Tsutsui-san's or Waya and Isumi's compact. Ogata-sensei doesn't even bother.
So they stand -- or actually -- Shindo lists slightly to one side. But since Akira is listing to the other side, it is by unspoken agreement that their shoulders meet, in between.
"Go on," Shindou yawns as a taxi finally appears. "You go first. I'll catch the next one."
"What? Aren't you ..." Akira turns, even as the taxi driver releases the door switch and it swings open. "Oh. I guess you can go home now. I mean your own home and not -- ..."
He wants to blame exhaustion for his babbling, but Akira has the feeling that even with plenty of sleep, the conversation probably would have been just as awkward.
"Yeah," Shindou says, though he does put a hand on the door to Akira's cab, fingers curling around the metal frame. He peers into the interior, as if wanting to enter.
"Well, you left your --" Akira pauses. You left your duffel bag, loads of clothes, and a lot of your underwear at my house doesn't sound quite appropriate. And it's not like Shindou isn't ever coming back. "I'll ... see you later."
Shindou nods as he waves down another cab. "Guess my ride's here," he says as it slows down and pulls over.
Akira's own driver is clearing his throat in impatience so he turns to go. Just as Akira is ducking into the cab, however, Shindou's voice rings out with enough volume to turn the heads of the few passersby on the street.
"OH! HEY! I haven't forgotten!" he bellows. "About Sai! And the kissing! OKAY?!"
Only Shindou Hikaru, Akira thinks, would ever find it appropriate to scream about kissing at the top of his lungs in the middle of the street in Tokyo.
The smile slides onto Akira's face anyway.
---
Akira sleeps without dreams that night. When he wakes in the morning, he stares at the ceiling for a long moment and tries to think of his obligations for the day. It occurs to him that this is really the first time he has ever just laid in bed, without a clear outline of what he should be doing and how he should be doing it. He has nowhere to be, no matches or charity tournaments arranged, and he had already called Ichikawa-san last night to inform her that he would not be visiting the salon today.
He has slept longer than his usual habits; the room is bright with sunlight, and the clock on his bedside reads 10:30. He is still a little tired, but it's not exactly a physical sensation, although it does almost feel like a weight aching in his limbs.
The closest he can come to analyzing how he feels is by likening the sensation to the one that comes after a long set of games in a tournament match. All the preparation and study and intensity has finally given way to a victory. Now there is nothing left to plan, or study, or think intensely about until the next game.
Now comes the time he reflects, revises and improves. Now comes the after-everything. But this time, with the after-everything ...
Akira slides out of bed and finds his favorite slippers in their expected spot. Padding to the kitchen, he pulls out a bowl, prepares his miso, and retrieves the morning paper.
He could call the Five Stars Institute. He could check his voice mail. He is sure there is news about Nara-kun and Shindou. He is certain that his voicemail is full of messages from various pros. Like Kurata, Kuwabara, and ...
Ogata.
Yet, underneath the uncomfortable pricklings of hurt, betrayal, and disappointment, Akira fails to find anger. Ogata had been going after a rival with all his power, running towards that goal no matter what.
Perhaps, it's the legacy of Touya Kouyo, passed onto his students like their first fuseki and last joseki. Igo DNA.
Akira wonders, briefly, if he will end up like his father or Ogata some day, chasing some goal beyond the limits of titles, tournaments, and games. He remembers the Kaoi igo clubs, the first game of his pro matches ...
He puts down his bowl. The clinking sound seems unnaturally loud in the empty kitchen; for a moment he thinks of Shindou and his silences.
What would Ogata have done, Akira ponders, if he had managed to find Sai finally? To have run so long and so hard after the man, could there have been satisfaction in merely catching and playing him?
Akira drinks his soup and reads about the continuing daikon radish crisis that is sweeping Japan and panicking housewives and cooks everywhere.
Unfortunately, thoughts of cooking lead him straight back to that one all-consuming thought again. Akira glances at the phone.
His eternal rival ... fellow pro ... friend ... whatever ... Akira mentally shrugs ... Shindou is probably still asleep and likely to remain that way until noon. Akira didn't want to actually hound the other -- not when Shindou is finally showing signs that he will stop being an exasperating ass. Moreover, Shindou has said (or rather he has bellowed) that he remembers his promises.
Thus Shindou will be the one to call Akira. That is certain. Or at least very likely.
Akira folds the newspaper neatly and goes to place it in the recycling bin. He takes his bowl to the sink and washes it.
Shindou will call and then Shindou will talk about the agreed upon topics in a nice, rational way. After all, it's the normal manner in which people did things, even when they are on the cusp of a great emotional revelation. Nothing to be nervous about.
And of course, Akira's not nervous.
He finishes rinsing the bowl and the spoon. Well, even if he did feel a little nervous (which he doesn't), he is perfectly justified. Anyways, there's nothing Akira can do about that until Shindou calls.
Unless Shindou is waiting for Akira to call, because he feels that the move belongs to Akira now. Or maybe Shindou is feeling just like Akira is feeling, and can't decide who should move first or even how.
Insanity, Akira ruminates as he turns off the faucet and leaves the bowl to dry on the rack, must feel something very close to this frustrating mix of the indeterminable, interminable, and the mundane.
Lunch, Akira decides. Lunch will be a good tactic. He will call Shindou. They will meet and share a meal together on neutral territory. And then, he and Shindou will proceed onwards, step by step, as they always have done in igo. It shall be a natural, normal sort of great emotional revelation.
Thus, strategy in mind, Akira heads towards phone. He dials Shindou's number.
Except ... Shindou is not picking up.
There is a odd thumping noise coming from his front door as well as what sounds like a rather obnoxious ring tone. Therefore, Akira isn't surprised at all when he opens his front door to find Shindou kicking it with one foot while juggling four heavy looking grocery bags in his hands.
There is normal. There is rational. And there is natural.
And then there is Shindou Hikaru. Who has apparently decided that in lieu of phone calls, neutral territories, and natural, normal sort of progressions, he will come bearing even more fish and leafy greens.
"I would've used my key, but hands were full and some idiot was calling me," Shindou grumbles as he strides through the door. He kicks off his shoes and pads barefoot to Akira's kitchen. As Akira trails behind him wordlessly, Shindou dumps the bags onto the kitchen counter and begins to shove the food into the still-full refrigerator.
"I thought I told you that you didn't owe me anything," Akira says finally as Shindou arranges the food to maximize space. "And didn't you leave enough food already?!"
"This isn't IOU fish and greens. These are the 'I don't wanna starve while we talk' fish, greens, and other stuff," Shindou informs him as he stacks several boxes of dried seaweed into Akira's pantry.
"How long are you planning to talk?! This is like a week's worth! I'm never going to be able to eat -- or fix it all by myself!" Akira protests.
"Who said you were going to eat it all by yourself? It's not gonna last us a week." Shindou says as his hands rustle through the plastic bag. "And when we finish, I'll get more. You know?"
And just like that, Akira is reminded that Shindou is, as ever, very good at creating openings. As well as making his intentions known.
"Oh."
"Yeah." Shindou informs him. "So start up the rice will you? We're having omurice, if you don't mind. Uh. You do know how to make rice?"
"Don't insult me, Shindou. I know the basics," Akira says.
"Good. At least we have a place to start then," Shindou says as he opens the carton of eggs.
Cooking with Shindou turns into a lesson of patience and observation. Shindou moves with a odd sort of rhythm in his steps as he cooks; one moment he is washing the green onions, the next his chopsticks are awhirl as he beats the eggs into a fine yellow froth. He is never still for long. Around him, things sizzle and pop and steam. Now, one hand is flipping the eggs in the pan, another is checking how the sauce for the glaze is coming along, and all the while Shindou is keeping an eye on the rice maker.
Akira has never considered this thought, but perhaps he should have spent some time with his mother. Perhaps cooking is Shindou's secret way of igo training, of learning how to juggle and remember different sequences that culminate to a satisfactory end.
All the while, Shindou speaks rapidly and with confidence, spewing out instructions on how to flip eggs and fry rice and such -- as if Akira will actually learn all of these blended motions on the first try.
"I don't think this is ever going to be anything I will be good at," Akira says dubiously as Shindou finally plates up the omurice. Akira has taken charge of fixing the tea, so he dutifully pours Shindou a cup before serving himself.
"Are you actually admitting that you might not master something?" Shindou snorts as he carries the plates to the table that Akira has already set.
"Not as much that as is the fact I have no interest in cooking. Whatsoever. Therefore I shall never be good at it," Akira concludes.
Shindou scowls at him. "So you expect me to do all the cooking in this relationship?"
"Well. Perhaps. If we do get into a ... relationship," Akira says. His feet are as uncertain as his words; he stumbles slightly as he pulls out a chair. However, he manages to catch himself just in time. "I mean, well ... yes."
Shindou hesitates for a moment, hands hovering above his plate.
"Okay," he says as he picks up a fork, "Fine. Though if I cook, you get to do my laundry. Okay? Itadakimasu!"
"Wait. That's it?" Akira says even as Shindou spears into the food. "We go from one kiss -- under rather strained circumstances, may I add -- to this?!"
He gestures with an arm to the kitchen, the messy dishes in the sink, the cups of tea sending warm tendrils of steam into the air and to ... everything that is so bizarrely domestic. For some naive reason, Akira had thought that this whole love business would have been a little more grand. Or at least involve a lot more emotional revealing, perhaps with some yelling on the side. Especially given that fact that Shindou Hikaru is involved.
There should be precedents, Akira wants to tell Shindou. There are things that have to happen, instead of just rice and eggs.
"Yeah? Um, what else is there?" Shindou says around a mouthful of food. "I'm interested, you're interested, let's see what happens."
"But ..." Akira protests. "It's a big step. Don't you worry how things might change? What happens if it doesn't work out? And hold it, who said you could just move in?! That's a bigger step! I mean this is my first ... ah ..."
Shindou sets down his fork and swallows his bit of rice. "It's mine too. First, I'm not moving in. Yet. I think I'll be coming over more -- maybe staying over and I'm not kidding about the laundry, but I'm not saying we're going to push it faster than it feels. Okay? But this ..."
He points at his plate. "Is hardly pushing it. It feels normal, and I thought, well ... I get kinda bored with talking, and it's not like I just randomly got up and started kissing you senseless. Though if you want, I wouldn't mind, you know." He waves a hand nonchalantly.
Something about the gesture, something about Shindou just deciding that yes, a relationship with Akira is what he wants -- and then barging in with arms laden with food and taking over Akira's kitchen and household and life without so much as a blink of an eye -- it's something so Shindou that ...
Akira tilts his head. Then, to both their surprise, he starts laughing helplessly.
He should have remembered. Fairytale romances have nothing in regards to the reality of Shindou Hikaru.
"Hey!" Shindou protests. "I wasn't joking!"
"Well, I appreciate that you decided to cook for me instead of ... popping through the door and kissing me senseless." Akira regains his composure, although he is still somewhat breathless. "Never let it be said that you don't have ... innovative ... ways in starting on new endeavors."
"Well, you're the one who started kissing randomly!" Shindou scowls.
"Well. Yes." Akira acknowledges. "I did."
"So hey, after that, I figured the rest is just details," Shindou says.
"But it can't be this easy. All those years we knew each other ..." Akira stops.
All those years. Of learning about Shindou and his moves on the goban, of the days spent in his parents' house, in the salon, in Shindou's apartment and in his house, that finally builds to this end -- he and Shindou sharing lunch in Akira's kitchen.
"Yeah. You'd think we'd learned something by now." Shindou says as he picks up his tea. One hand supports the bottom of the cup delicately, while the other taps along the porcelain sides. "Hmmm. Look at it this way. Since now I know you like to be sweet talked in igo --"
"I do not!"
Shindou ignores him. "It's like a new game, but with the same rules ... our stones haven't been placed yet, but it's not entirely new territory. We're used to each other's styles and moves."
"Shindou, I do not appreciate being made light of --"
"I'm serious," Shindou says, "It's a new game, but we bring all the strength of the history we've made together behind it. That's what's gonna make it good."
"But what if it doesn't work out?" Akira asks. "If we take this step and ..."
"If it doesn't work, then it ... just doesn't," Shindou says.
"But the igo ..." Akira says. "What if it changes the igo?"
"Look. It's not like I haven't wondered -- can we be rivals and boyfriends at the same time?" Shindou scatters the rice grains around with his fork.
"But I know you're strong enough. And the igo thing --- the igo thing is more than strong enough. And what I feel about you on the goban ... Well, just don't be thinking that I'm going to go easy on you!"
Shindou takes a deep breath.
"I walked away from igo once. And I guess I also walked away from you too. What I found out was that one isn't exactly the same as the other," Shindou says.
"I mean, you and igo -- it goes together of course, but it's not the exact same thing. What happened with Ogata-sensei and Nara-kun, it just really makes me realize again -- the igo can be taken away. And it did really feel like my whole world went splat. But you were still there." Shindou's face is alight, and in his face Akira recognizes the passion Shindou has in the games and ... in Akira himself.
"You were still there."
"Shindou ..."
"So yeah. I know. If I get into a relationship with you, and it doesn't work out, I know I might lose ... everything. But it's the same way with any game or just life in general. I just need to jump in with all my power, despite the dangers of maybe losing. Cause I might actually win, you know?"
Shindou clinks his fork against the plate as he takes another bit of the omurice. Then, he pushes the plate away. "Sai taught me that."
His arms come to rest on the table, and although Shindou's expression is pensive, it is also resolute.
"Sai's in my igo. Like I told Ogata, you've played him, though you only saw me," Shindou says, quietly. "And I'm sure you still see him in my games too. And that .... scared me for a long time. I was afraid of who you really did see, or who you really wanted to play. But ..."
Shindou touches his lips with his fingers, and his eyes shimmer slightly, although Akira's not sure if there are tears.
Shindou would never admit to crying anyway.
"I was stupid, huh?" Shindou says.
"Very much so." Akira agrees.
"You didn't have to agree so fast!"
"Shindou -- I want to know about Sai, yes, but not as much because I want to play him but because I know he's an important part of you. And you're ... important to me."
"Oh." Shindou scratches his cheek.
"Took you long enough," Akira mutters.
"Heh. But I know now," Shindou shrugs. "Thing is, Sai'd probably be thrilled to know that people still chase him for his games. And that they would go to such crazy lengths as making igo computer programs just to challenge him -- well, he'd probably kick the computer's ass, but he'd be proud. And hell, if years and years after I die, if people remember my kifu and still want to play me -- that'd be so freaking awesome! But ... with you ..."
Shindou runs a hand through his hair. "Just ... I carry Sai's games and legacy within me. My games exists because he has existed; I play because as long as I play, I can still find him. But it's not all about Sai. I play because of you too, and because of the others. Because of myself. And I love our games. But I don't want that to be the only thing that remains."
Akira thinks of how Shindou has gotten into the habit of stealing Akira's most comfortable slippers. The feeling of sleeping back to back. Shindou in the kitchen, rattling up a storm.
If you keep chasing my ghost, the real me is going to catch up with you some day.
"I carry his legacy, so ..." Shindu trails off. His eyes are slightly unfocused, and his hands lay loose and empty on the table.
"I understand," Akira says. "You've always known, haven't you, that those who chased Sai ... all they ended up with were ghosts. You don't want that for yourself."
"No." Shindou looks up, eyes wide. "You're wrong. It's because ... I don't want that for you."
And then, before Akira can move or think of a reply, Shindou leans over, grabs him by his shirt and --
This time, there are no images of frogs or princesses or princes, or even the idea of strategies. It is just him. And Shindou.
This time, the kiss goes much, much better.
Although Akira is slightly surprised, the feeling quickly transmutes into a warmth that settles deep into his belly. This time he notes how soft Shindou's lips are, the way Shindou has threaded one hand into his hair. And as Shindou brings their foreheads to rest together, nose to nose, Akira just lets the moment settle within him.
Yes, this time is much, much better.
They are both more than a little breathless when they pull away. For a few heartbeats, all either of them can do is just sit and stare.
Finally, Shindou rubs the bridge of his nose. "Wow. Random kissing. It does work."
"Shindou!" Akira splutters.
Shindou grins. "You deserve more than just ghosts. I deserve more than that. We're alive and we might as well take advantage of that."
"Sai ... taught you that too?" Akira isn't quite sure how he feels about someone teaching Shindou about more than just placing stones.
"Um ... Sai ... well, he didn't quite have a grasp on the alive thing ..."
"What?!"
"Okay. First, eat your omurice before it gets too cold. Cause this is gonna be a long story ... and be glad you're already sitting down. Cause it's going to get weird. And you're probably going to want to punch me at some points," Shindou rambles. "But promise me that you trust me and you'll hear me out to the end."
"Why would I ever want to commit physical violence?" Akira narrows his eyes. "Just what did you do with this Sai? And why do I feel it involves me?"
"Um ..." Instead of replying, Shindou just shovels in a mouthful of rice.
Perhaps, Akira thinks as he starts in the rice, a relationship with Shindou Hikaru won't always involve a happily ending ... especially since Shindou is at his best when things are at their worst.
But at least the food will be excellent.
All and all, it's not a bad start to the ever after.
-Finish
----
AN: Well, um. What can I say? It's been quite a ride -- I actually finished most of the piece last May, but had a moment of posting fear when I worried whether or not the solution would work out in a logical manner. It's one thing to know the solution in my head -- quite another to write it out. I can't help but feel the second two parts are weaker than the first, style wise and suspense wise. But I was rapidly reaching the point of overwriting the piece, so this is the best I could do.
It didn't help that I was also writing with in unfamiliar style -- it started as a Blind Go fic, after all, so I adopted a style that I don't normally use. It was very hard to maintain though, and it's going to be a long while before I try to write something so long in present tense again. XD Now I'm wondering if anyone would have guessed me if I submitted the fic? (I'm sorta glad I didn't though ... since it's taken me THIS long to finally be comfortable with the piece. Or at least on speaking terms with it.)
Touya Akira is also an interesting protagonist to use -- he's brilliant and really smart, but that makes writing the plot very hard, since I didn't want to give away the ending too early. I still haven't quite gotten the hang of it -- all my betas knew from the second part onward where I was going. I couldn't figure out how to throw any more loops or whirls or red herrings in though, and I know it remains one of the weaknesses in the story. It's really hard to fool Touya Akira. XP
I also apologize for anyone who really knows anything about computers. Um, I fudged it totally! A long time ago, I wanted to write computer/cyber AU with Sai being a ghost in the machine, so to speak, that appears to Hikaru. Another idea was to write Hikago as if SAI was a computer program.
Anyways, I don't have enough computer knowledge to pull ANY of those off, and in the interim, flonnebonne wrote her EXCELLENT Ender's game story, Hikaru's Game which totally satisfied my need for that sort of AU. X3
If you haven't read that one, I TOTALLY WOULD!
However, blind go rolled around and for some reason, my brain decided to revisit the idea of Strategical Artificial Intelligence. There's one more AU story that I wrote about it, but this one is the best of the two.
I also had to try to stop Nara from becoming plot exposition boy. I didn't quite succeed but if you have any questions, let me know -- it's probably somewhere in the dialog I cut out. Of all the character's I've ever tried to write, he's the most annoying.
For me, this was a challenge because it's my first serious attempt at writing the start of a romantic relationship. Usually, I shy away from writing this kind of thing because I'm exceedingly clumsy about it. I'm still not sure I managed to pull it off, but let me know. *blush* Originally there was another scene, but um, yeah. Not going there.
I am thinking about writing an Ogata sidestory, but um ... I'm gonna have to find some time sooner or later. *sighs*
Finally a LOT of people helped me with this fic, including T-chan, Hima-D, silvermuse and aishuu. I was very insecure about the whole story, and they all held my hand through the process. Of course, much love goes to Imbrium who has, from the very minute I started the story til' now, been very patient with me, encouraging AND kicking my bum when the situation calls for it. If not for them, the story wouldn't be here. However, all the screw ups and plot problems? Totally me. There's only so much miracles that they could pull, after all.
Anyways, if you hated it, liked it, or just wanna throw tomatoes, please let me know!
-muri
ps: For the record, the name "Square One" was thought up in a fit of panic on January 1st. I knew full well of the old Math Program that used to be broadcasted on PBS ... but what can I do?
I originally picked the title for a combination of its definition and because there was a Coldplay song by the same name:
The future's for discovering
The space in which we're travelling
From the top of the first page
To the end of the last day
From the start in your own way
You just want somebody listening to what you say
It doesn't matter who you are
It doesn't matter who you are
Under the surface trying to break through
Deciphering the codes in you
I need a compass, draw me a map
I'm on the top, I can't get back
Now I'm wondering if I should've just called it "Wonderwall" (from the Oasis song of the same title). Which makes about as much sense, I guess. XD
As ever, I need to work on my romance AND titling-fu!
Oh, and because Hima-D went "0_o" at the stats:
Story length (without titles or notes): 25,863 words
Pages in MS word (12 pt font): 64
And my poor betas read and reread EVERY SINGLE LONG WORD, SENTENCE, and PARAGRAPH. -___- I really need to stop being so longwinded!
And now you just read all of that too! XD
But as always, thank you for reading. <3