Go Girl (Hikago, oneshot)
Go Girl
by aishuu
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Summary: A character study of Nase Asumi.
I got into Go because I liked a boy - and that's no surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm a romantic at heart, even though it was one love that was never meant to be.
I was eight, and I had a crush on the quiet boy who sat in the back row of my second year class. It's funny, I can't remember his name, but I still remember how he stuttered whenever I said hello. I thought it was cute, and decided I wanted to be his girlfriend.
When you're that young, dating doesn't mean the same thing as it does to teenagers and adults. It means you have someone to call a boyfriend and talk about to the other girls, and maybe that boy will let you kiss him on the cheek, provided you give him your dessert. It's really very innocent. Our parents must have thought we were cute, too, since they arranged a "play date." I said I would do whatever he wanted, and he wanted to play Go.
I had my first date at a Go parlor, taking a lesson from a lower dan teacher. Maybe that should strike me as sad, but I'm glad for it. I don't think I ever would have taken a lesson without having a crush on that quiet boy.
We switched classes a couple months later, and by that time I'd move onto a new crush - but I did keep going (pardon the pun) to Go classes. Some people have certain gifts, and my mind easily acquired the peculiar traits a good Go player has to possess. I was able to read and plan ahead, and also fearlessly dance in the strange tango of attack and defense that spread out across the board. Once someone is well and truly hooked on Go, it's nearly impossible to step away from it.
It's not usual for a girl to get into Go, but I was fascinated by the game. When I played someone, I wasn't just the cute girl. When I played Go, I was an opponent, no matter who was sitting across from me. When I played Go, I was powerful, and more than just a cute face.
I did well at it, and when I entered middle school, I joined a Go club. I'd done a couple of children's tournaments before, but this was completely different. My social life was set to revolve around the game; the students in the club were going to become my closest friends.
At least that was the plan. It didn't work out that way, because the club members discovered I was a much stronger player than they were. After defeating all the girls in friendly matches - which wasn't a challenge, since some of them were still learning to hold the stones properly - and moved onto playing against the slightly more experienced boys.
I beat them, too.
Had I been smarter, I might have tried to be gentler about it, but I still wasn't at the stage of development where I considered the effects of being better than guys at something on your social life. While I earned some respect, my victories also fostered resentment. A couple of people started to call me a "Go geek" and the label stuck.
I've heard horror stories from other insei about what their interest in Go did to their school careers, so I know I really shouldn't complain. I wasn't completely ostracized - I'm cute, and some people like strange, cute girls - but people would occasionally give me sidelong looks. I learned not to spend time talking about Go, and had to make an extra effort to stay on top of pop culture.
This of course, was when I started to get more seriously interested in boys. I wanted to be ordinary, to gossip with the other girls over who I thought was handsome, and who we were going to give chocolates to on Valentine's Day. It was fun, normal, but as soon as I was done, I went to Go Club and continued to smash my way through their ranks. The couple of times we went to tournaments, I served as the first board and nearly fell asleep from my easy domination of the games.
It was rather boring. None of the girls took the game as seriously as I did, seeing Go as a pastime rather than a vocation. I needed stronger opponents if I was going to get anywhere.
There was my crossroads. I needed to decide if I wanted to take my game to the next level, or admit I was just one of "those girls" who was interested in other things. I thought on it, and tried to imagine life without Go - and couldn't. I talked my father into letting me test for the insei, and three months later I was spending two days a week studying with other aspiring professionals.
This was a jolt of reality for me. I was good, but the people I was set against were better. There is a special kind of humiliation in losing to a child four years younger than I was - but it's also a special kind of motivation. There's nothing I wanted more than to shove Ochi Kousuke's words down his throat, but I didn't have the skill to back up that desire.
I spent several years in the insei, trying to fight for rank. In a way, the insei are a microcosm of the Go world itself, so it's good preparation. You have your stars - like Isumi and Ochi - your upstarts - Shindou comes to mind - and the plodders who make it through by sheer determination - like Honda and myself. It was hard work, and sometimes so frustrating that I spent nights crying myself to sleep, but I made it through. Aside from one incident where I considered quitting, my feet were firmly on that path I wanted to walk.
I was a senior in high school when I finally passed my pro exam. It was my fifth attempt, and I guess that was pretty good. It was enough to keep me from having to make the difficult choice that had nearly destroyed Isumi, about whether or not to continue with Go or accept a different life. I suppose I could have gone to college and gotten a degree, but it was Go I had my heart set on.
I've never seen myself as a woman Go player - just a Go player. Over the past few months I've been tagged with labels as I've advanced in the women's league and maintained a respectable win/loss record in the regular league, but they always mention the fact that I'm female. I'm not insulted by that, although at times I wonder if I'll ever be seen as a contender for a main league title. I want to be a part of the New Wave that's sweeping the Go scene. I don't want to be the "female member of the New Wave."
Don't get me wrong. No one gives anything to me because I'm a female, but there's this kind of distance that's hard to describe. Waya-kun holds the door for me, Shindou-kun speaks more politely when I'm around and Kadowaki-san is nicer to me than he is to anyone else. I sometimes resent it; it's like they're saying I'm not good enough to be treated as one of the guys.
But I'd be offended if they did, so it's a lose-lose situation. I wonder if that makes sense. I don't want to be a feminist, but I'm not ashamed of the fact I'm a woman. It's strange - I guess I want it both ways.
There's days when I want nothing more than to forget about the Go world. Face it, it's a bunch of really weird, mainly old men who are obsessed with a board game. Then I think of all the friends I have in the Go world - even Ochi - and realize that I wouldn't change anything.
Some of them, like Shindou, are on the path to the Hand of God. While I think that's a noble enough goal, I'm more practical at heart. I want to play because I love the game, not to find some mythical apex that is only theoretical. I mean, if the Hand of God exists, how would a player recognize it? Maybe it's already been played, dozens of times in hundreds of situations. To me, the Hand of God isn't a tangible thing, merely the expression a player uses when they try to describe their pursuit of perfection.
But nothing in this world is perfect. I remind myself of that every time I lose a match. On the good days, I try to take a positive attitude and learn from the loss. On the bad days, I try to forget about the game, and go on with a normal life.
I still see some of my friends from high school every now and again. They're in college now, and they talk about their dreams and their boyfriends and what they will do in the future. I sometimes feel ages older than them, since I already know my life will revolve around Go. I don't point this out - I laugh and go along, and we still spend time in Harajuku shopping and checking out guys. But when I go home, I put aside the frivolities. I have my passion, and it's bigger than any man.
I got into Go because I liked a boy, but I stayed for myself. I suppose that first love has led me to the truest passion of all, the desire to become the best Go player possible as I seek the Hand of God.
by aishuu
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Summary: A character study of Nase Asumi.
I got into Go because I liked a boy - and that's no surprise to anyone who knows me. I'm a romantic at heart, even though it was one love that was never meant to be.
I was eight, and I had a crush on the quiet boy who sat in the back row of my second year class. It's funny, I can't remember his name, but I still remember how he stuttered whenever I said hello. I thought it was cute, and decided I wanted to be his girlfriend.
When you're that young, dating doesn't mean the same thing as it does to teenagers and adults. It means you have someone to call a boyfriend and talk about to the other girls, and maybe that boy will let you kiss him on the cheek, provided you give him your dessert. It's really very innocent. Our parents must have thought we were cute, too, since they arranged a "play date." I said I would do whatever he wanted, and he wanted to play Go.
I had my first date at a Go parlor, taking a lesson from a lower dan teacher. Maybe that should strike me as sad, but I'm glad for it. I don't think I ever would have taken a lesson without having a crush on that quiet boy.
We switched classes a couple months later, and by that time I'd move onto a new crush - but I did keep going (pardon the pun) to Go classes. Some people have certain gifts, and my mind easily acquired the peculiar traits a good Go player has to possess. I was able to read and plan ahead, and also fearlessly dance in the strange tango of attack and defense that spread out across the board. Once someone is well and truly hooked on Go, it's nearly impossible to step away from it.
It's not usual for a girl to get into Go, but I was fascinated by the game. When I played someone, I wasn't just the cute girl. When I played Go, I was an opponent, no matter who was sitting across from me. When I played Go, I was powerful, and more than just a cute face.
I did well at it, and when I entered middle school, I joined a Go club. I'd done a couple of children's tournaments before, but this was completely different. My social life was set to revolve around the game; the students in the club were going to become my closest friends.
At least that was the plan. It didn't work out that way, because the club members discovered I was a much stronger player than they were. After defeating all the girls in friendly matches - which wasn't a challenge, since some of them were still learning to hold the stones properly - and moved onto playing against the slightly more experienced boys.
I beat them, too.
Had I been smarter, I might have tried to be gentler about it, but I still wasn't at the stage of development where I considered the effects of being better than guys at something on your social life. While I earned some respect, my victories also fostered resentment. A couple of people started to call me a "Go geek" and the label stuck.
I've heard horror stories from other insei about what their interest in Go did to their school careers, so I know I really shouldn't complain. I wasn't completely ostracized - I'm cute, and some people like strange, cute girls - but people would occasionally give me sidelong looks. I learned not to spend time talking about Go, and had to make an extra effort to stay on top of pop culture.
This of course, was when I started to get more seriously interested in boys. I wanted to be ordinary, to gossip with the other girls over who I thought was handsome, and who we were going to give chocolates to on Valentine's Day. It was fun, normal, but as soon as I was done, I went to Go Club and continued to smash my way through their ranks. The couple of times we went to tournaments, I served as the first board and nearly fell asleep from my easy domination of the games.
It was rather boring. None of the girls took the game as seriously as I did, seeing Go as a pastime rather than a vocation. I needed stronger opponents if I was going to get anywhere.
There was my crossroads. I needed to decide if I wanted to take my game to the next level, or admit I was just one of "those girls" who was interested in other things. I thought on it, and tried to imagine life without Go - and couldn't. I talked my father into letting me test for the insei, and three months later I was spending two days a week studying with other aspiring professionals.
This was a jolt of reality for me. I was good, but the people I was set against were better. There is a special kind of humiliation in losing to a child four years younger than I was - but it's also a special kind of motivation. There's nothing I wanted more than to shove Ochi Kousuke's words down his throat, but I didn't have the skill to back up that desire.
I spent several years in the insei, trying to fight for rank. In a way, the insei are a microcosm of the Go world itself, so it's good preparation. You have your stars - like Isumi and Ochi - your upstarts - Shindou comes to mind - and the plodders who make it through by sheer determination - like Honda and myself. It was hard work, and sometimes so frustrating that I spent nights crying myself to sleep, but I made it through. Aside from one incident where I considered quitting, my feet were firmly on that path I wanted to walk.
I was a senior in high school when I finally passed my pro exam. It was my fifth attempt, and I guess that was pretty good. It was enough to keep me from having to make the difficult choice that had nearly destroyed Isumi, about whether or not to continue with Go or accept a different life. I suppose I could have gone to college and gotten a degree, but it was Go I had my heart set on.
I've never seen myself as a woman Go player - just a Go player. Over the past few months I've been tagged with labels as I've advanced in the women's league and maintained a respectable win/loss record in the regular league, but they always mention the fact that I'm female. I'm not insulted by that, although at times I wonder if I'll ever be seen as a contender for a main league title. I want to be a part of the New Wave that's sweeping the Go scene. I don't want to be the "female member of the New Wave."
Don't get me wrong. No one gives anything to me because I'm a female, but there's this kind of distance that's hard to describe. Waya-kun holds the door for me, Shindou-kun speaks more politely when I'm around and Kadowaki-san is nicer to me than he is to anyone else. I sometimes resent it; it's like they're saying I'm not good enough to be treated as one of the guys.
But I'd be offended if they did, so it's a lose-lose situation. I wonder if that makes sense. I don't want to be a feminist, but I'm not ashamed of the fact I'm a woman. It's strange - I guess I want it both ways.
There's days when I want nothing more than to forget about the Go world. Face it, it's a bunch of really weird, mainly old men who are obsessed with a board game. Then I think of all the friends I have in the Go world - even Ochi - and realize that I wouldn't change anything.
Some of them, like Shindou, are on the path to the Hand of God. While I think that's a noble enough goal, I'm more practical at heart. I want to play because I love the game, not to find some mythical apex that is only theoretical. I mean, if the Hand of God exists, how would a player recognize it? Maybe it's already been played, dozens of times in hundreds of situations. To me, the Hand of God isn't a tangible thing, merely the expression a player uses when they try to describe their pursuit of perfection.
But nothing in this world is perfect. I remind myself of that every time I lose a match. On the good days, I try to take a positive attitude and learn from the loss. On the bad days, I try to forget about the game, and go on with a normal life.
I still see some of my friends from high school every now and again. They're in college now, and they talk about their dreams and their boyfriends and what they will do in the future. I sometimes feel ages older than them, since I already know my life will revolve around Go. I don't point this out - I laugh and go along, and we still spend time in Harajuku shopping and checking out guys. But when I go home, I put aside the frivolities. I have my passion, and it's bigger than any man.
I got into Go because I liked a boy, but I stayed for myself. I suppose that first love has led me to the truest passion of all, the desire to become the best Go player possible as I seek the Hand of God.