Seeking Divinity (The Noble Eightfold Path to the God of Go) (Hikago, oneshot)
Title:Seeking Divinity (The Noble Eightfold Path to the God of Go)
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Author: aishuu
Pairing/Characters: Touya Kouyo
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 2,400
Summary: Touyo Kouyo tries to lead a righteous life as he pursues the phantom of Sai.
Notes: Written for a prompt of "Touya Kouyo and Sai, Faith" for corbeaun for fifthmus. Thanks to sophiap and mmmdraco for the input.
Right Livelihood: one should earn one's living in a righteous way and that wealth should be gained legally and peacefully.
Ten years later, Amano asked him if Kouyo ever regretted retiring from the Japanese professional leagues when he did. "I know you've done some really amazing things on the world scene, but don't you miss Japan?"
Kouyo replied that he wished he'd only thought of retiring sooner. Maybe then he would have had the chance to play more than once with that special person, the only one he'd ever felt like calling a rival.
Right Mindfulness: controlled and perfected faculty of cognition, the mental ability to see things as they are, with clear consciousness.
Like many of the professionals - retired or not - in the Go world, he found himself intrigued by the enigma presented by Shindou Hikaru. The boy had been a catalyst for so much of the Go world's resurgence that it was astounding and somewhat humbling to think on. At sixteen, Shindou had already accomplished more than many sixty year old pros, although few people realized that much of the vaunted "New Wave" had been set off by the butterfly wings of a shodan.
Kouyo's interest, however, was more personal than most. He dreaded imaging what life would have been like if Shindou hadn't been so insistent on setting up the game. While getting defeated by an unknown Go player might have been seen as a slight by many professionals, for him it was a wake-up call. He had fallen into the trap of pride, becoming complacent with his skills and convinced he had it all figured out. It was like having a cancerous tumor removed, to realize that his pride was only holding him back. The process was exceedingly painful, but the net results were only positive.
He owed the boy more than he could possibly begin to express. He was smart enough to know that Shindou was not Sai, although they were undeniably linked. He could see Sai's Go in Shindou, just as he saw his own in Akira. Even if he never played Sai again, it was comforting to think that their two successors would be battling it out in a lifelong struggle.
But Kouyo, like Ogata and Kuwabara and Akira, was also a bit selfish. The one thing he wanted more than anything was a chance to match skills against Sai and see how far he'd progressed. He wished he could ask Shindou about Sai, but decided it would not be a good idea. Kouyo had connected Sai's second disappearance to Shindou's long streak of forfeits. Kouyo was an old enough man to know what grief could do to a person.
But he also believed in hope. He refused to consider the possibility that Sai was dead, although that was the neatest answer. He learned how to use a computer, and started to pull the kifu of Sai's matches off to study them himself and piece together the puzzle. In each of them, he could see the evolution of an excellent Go player into one that was unparalleled.
Sai played anyone, no matter how strong or weak. It was that willingness to share his skill that truly humbled Kouyo. If there was a God of Go, perhaps the avatar had been the strange phenomenon of Sai. Since Sai was no longer available, it was up to Kouyo to continue that legacy, and maybe someday be worthy of a rematch.
Right Thinking: not to be inclined toward a self centered attitude but to think of things rightly, from a higher standpoint.
The day after he announced his retirement, Ogata arrived at his house. The man had been his pupil for nearly two decades, and Kouyo knew him well enough to see the barely-contained rage in his face. Others were concerned about him, but Ogata was angry at losing a rival before decisively proving his strength. Kouyo vastly preferred Ogata's reaction to the sickeningly-sweet expressions of worry.
They made polite conversation for about ten minutes before Ogata got to the point of the visit. "Would you like to play a game, sensei?"
Kouyo looked at the young man sitting before him - even though Ogata was in his thirties, Kouyo still thought of him as barely more than a child - and agreed. He planned on never again turning down the opportunity to play, because each game has value. Playing Sai taught him that - and he felt like he had only grown as a player for realizing that titles didn't equate to respect.
He won by five moku, and the newly-minted Jyuudan had to accept the knowledge that his master still had plenty to teach him, retired or not.
Right Action: act kindly and compassionately, to be honest, to respect the belongings of others, and to keep sexual relationships harmless to others.
Kouyo found himself spending more and more time in his wife's company as they traveled the world. Akiko was one in a million, willing to leave behind the familiar to travel on what many would consider an insane trip, one with no definite end in sight. She left her beloved son, trusting Akira because she knew her husband needed her more.
It occurred to Kouyo that like many Japanese husbands, he had not always been attentive to his wife. He thought on how to express his gratitude for her loyalty and caring, and only one thing could convey the depth of his feeling. He offered to teach her to play Go.
"Are you sure? I thought you wanted to use your time to study and meet with some of the foreign professionals," she replied, and there was a tentative edge in her voice that could have been reluctance or shyness. He didn't know her well enough to tell which; she had always been the one to support him, not the other way around. "I don't think I'll ever be good enough player to be worthy of your time."
He replied that he would enjoy playing with her, and maybe one day she would be able to play with their son. Her smile of reply nearly blinded him as she accepted politely.
Akiko hadn't spent twenty years around the best Go players in Japan without learning anything, but it was clear after the first game that she would never be strong enough to enter even mid-level amateur competitions. But he found the experience worth repeating the next morning, and the next.
It had been so long since he had played a true novice that it was a revelation. No one would think to have a man of Kouyo's stature as a tutor for a starting player. But in Akiko's every hand he could see the undeveloped potential, and her ignorance would lead her to play moves that were naïve and surprising. She made remarkable steps every day, and the sudden shine of understanding in her eyes as she learned made her more beautiful to him.
Teaching Akiko was relaxing in a way that he'd forgotten about. And he learned from her nearly as much as he did when discussing matches with the top ranking professionals in the world. It was a different kind of game, but Kouyo found his own Go gaining more depth in response as he learned to anticipate unexpected, clumsy and occasionally lucky moves.
Soon they started out each day, right before breakfast, with a quick game or lesson. Kouyo was surprised at how much he looked forward to those quiet moments, when it was just him and his wife. He wondered why he had never thought of teaching her before.
Right Speech: use right words in our daily lives and to avoid lying, gossip, slander and careless language
He found comfort in coming to Go salons no matter what country he was in. He was an old man and his mind wasn't as quick to pick up Chinese and Korean as he'd like. But once he entered a salon, his ignorance was irrelevant, because he knew what truly mattered.
"Badouk hal-kka-yo?"
He smiled and accepted wordlessly, taking a seat across from a stranger. As the man places four stones, Kouyo had an insight into why he was comfortable here. The language they spoke was Go.
Right View: abandon a self centered way of looking at things and see all things clearly.
Like all humans, Kouyo had thought of how he would die. But he had never truly accepted that, telling himself that death would wait until he achieved his goals - from becoming a professional player, to becoming a title holder, to becoming the strongest player in the world. The heart attack was a wake-up call that death would not wait forever, and provided him with an opportunity to re-evaluate his life. He was grateful for that.
He could see the signs of the passage of time, but unlike many of his age group, he didn't feel a desire to make it stop. While he still clung to many of the traditional aspects of Japan, he learned that change wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It simply was, and a man had to understand that things didn't remain the same. It was much like Go; those that remained static went nowhere.
Kuwabara died four years after Kouyo retired, a sudden heart attack that dropped the Honinbou dead in the middle of a demonstration match. It was the official end of an era, but Kouyo could not regret it. He mourned for the old man, the patron geezer of Go as Ogata called him, but everyone must die. Without Kuwabara, though, there was no "older" mentor to use as a benchmark - Kouyo himself was now that final goal for the upcoming generation.
But that didn't keep him from looking to others to help improve his game. The second time Ko Yeong Ha came to Japan, Kouyo welcomed him as a personal guest. The boy's Japanese had improved quite a bit, although he pretended not to speak it when around Shindou. They spent a week together, and played endless games that showed the cocky young professional Japanese Go was worthy of respect.
Kouyo thought the boy was a hybrid of Shindou and his Akira, brilliance and force, innovation and knowledge. Strangely, he understood the uncertainty of Yeong Ha's future better than he understood the race his son and Shindou entertained, because this boy was like himself, unrivaled by any of his peers. Maybe someday he would be lucky enough to meet his Sai, the one who would dethrone him from his arrogant pedestal of confidence.
He hoped it would happen, because while Yeong Ha's Go was brilliant, it would take a rival to truly polish the diamond of the boy's talent. For the thousandth time, Kouyo thanked the memory of Sai for being there when he needed that someone.
Right Endeavor: engage constantly in right conduct without being idle or deviating from the right way.
Sometimes when he looked at his son, he was almost shocked. Akira had grown up into a fine young man, albeit a serious one. But he had grown up. His face had refined as maturity smoothed away the round baby-cheeks, and he stood only a couple of centimeters shorter than Kouyo himself. Akira was built along more delicate lines, and Kouyo could see more of Akiko in their child than of himself. The only thing Akira seemed to have inherited was Kouyo's love for the game of Go. Since that was the most important thing to both of their lives, Kouyo had no regrets.
Kouyo was a wise enough man not to want his son to be a carbon-copy of himself. Akira was his own person - a wonderful, complex, caring and occasionally maddening young man - and Kouyo had faith that Akira would walk his own road. Unlike Kouyo, he was lucky enough to have a rival to seek the Hand of God with.
On Akira's twentieth birthday, he turned the title for the house over to his son. He and Akiko would visit, he said, but it was time for Akira to live his own life. Since Akira was tied to Japan - and would be for as long as Shindou Hikaru remained there - it was more fitting that he keep the family home.
"Thank you, father," Akira replied, but there was both pride and loss mixed into his striking eyes as he accepted the paperwork.
Kouyo had been a Go professional long enough to recognize indecision when he saw it. Moreover, he was Akira's father and understood what was bothering his child. He quietly said that adulthood could be lonely, but he would learn more standing on his own. That was how things had to be.
"I know," said Akira, "but letting go of you isn't easy. I still want to be your son."
Kouyo was a man of deep emotions, although he usually hid them behind a stoic facade. But there were times when it was alright to cry, and he felt no shame in letting his son see his tears.
Right Meditation: always be determined to believe in the teachings of the Buddha and not to be agitated by any change of circumstances.
Touya Kouya knew what they said about him - that he had gone mad, that he had given up - but one of the privileges of getting old was learning not to give a damn. Old age brought wisdom - or just a peculiar form of senility.
He had earned the respect of the Go world, because he was the Meijin, the legendary five-title holder and the man closest to the Hand of God. Throwing that away to play without the demands of the title schedule was viewed as insane by many, or Kouyo admitting that he was passed his prime. He smiled and accepted the criticism, deciding that he had nothing left to prove to anyone.
At this point in his life, the only thing he had left - now that he had established his family and risen to the top - was to keep moving forward. There were plenty of games to play, plenty of opponents he hadn't met yet, and endless things to learn. And somewhere, there was an unknown person who had defeated the Meijin at his peak - even if they never met in person, Kouyo would work to prove himself worthy of what that game had given him.
Fandom: Hikaru no Go
Author: aishuu
Pairing/Characters: Touya Kouyo
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 2,400
Summary: Touyo Kouyo tries to lead a righteous life as he pursues the phantom of Sai.
Notes: Written for a prompt of "Touya Kouyo and Sai, Faith" for corbeaun for fifthmus. Thanks to sophiap and mmmdraco for the input.
Right Livelihood: one should earn one's living in a righteous way and that wealth should be gained legally and peacefully.
Ten years later, Amano asked him if Kouyo ever regretted retiring from the Japanese professional leagues when he did. "I know you've done some really amazing things on the world scene, but don't you miss Japan?"
Kouyo replied that he wished he'd only thought of retiring sooner. Maybe then he would have had the chance to play more than once with that special person, the only one he'd ever felt like calling a rival.
Right Mindfulness: controlled and perfected faculty of cognition, the mental ability to see things as they are, with clear consciousness.
Like many of the professionals - retired or not - in the Go world, he found himself intrigued by the enigma presented by Shindou Hikaru. The boy had been a catalyst for so much of the Go world's resurgence that it was astounding and somewhat humbling to think on. At sixteen, Shindou had already accomplished more than many sixty year old pros, although few people realized that much of the vaunted "New Wave" had been set off by the butterfly wings of a shodan.
Kouyo's interest, however, was more personal than most. He dreaded imaging what life would have been like if Shindou hadn't been so insistent on setting up the game. While getting defeated by an unknown Go player might have been seen as a slight by many professionals, for him it was a wake-up call. He had fallen into the trap of pride, becoming complacent with his skills and convinced he had it all figured out. It was like having a cancerous tumor removed, to realize that his pride was only holding him back. The process was exceedingly painful, but the net results were only positive.
He owed the boy more than he could possibly begin to express. He was smart enough to know that Shindou was not Sai, although they were undeniably linked. He could see Sai's Go in Shindou, just as he saw his own in Akira. Even if he never played Sai again, it was comforting to think that their two successors would be battling it out in a lifelong struggle.
But Kouyo, like Ogata and Kuwabara and Akira, was also a bit selfish. The one thing he wanted more than anything was a chance to match skills against Sai and see how far he'd progressed. He wished he could ask Shindou about Sai, but decided it would not be a good idea. Kouyo had connected Sai's second disappearance to Shindou's long streak of forfeits. Kouyo was an old enough man to know what grief could do to a person.
But he also believed in hope. He refused to consider the possibility that Sai was dead, although that was the neatest answer. He learned how to use a computer, and started to pull the kifu of Sai's matches off to study them himself and piece together the puzzle. In each of them, he could see the evolution of an excellent Go player into one that was unparalleled.
Sai played anyone, no matter how strong or weak. It was that willingness to share his skill that truly humbled Kouyo. If there was a God of Go, perhaps the avatar had been the strange phenomenon of Sai. Since Sai was no longer available, it was up to Kouyo to continue that legacy, and maybe someday be worthy of a rematch.
Right Thinking: not to be inclined toward a self centered attitude but to think of things rightly, from a higher standpoint.
The day after he announced his retirement, Ogata arrived at his house. The man had been his pupil for nearly two decades, and Kouyo knew him well enough to see the barely-contained rage in his face. Others were concerned about him, but Ogata was angry at losing a rival before decisively proving his strength. Kouyo vastly preferred Ogata's reaction to the sickeningly-sweet expressions of worry.
They made polite conversation for about ten minutes before Ogata got to the point of the visit. "Would you like to play a game, sensei?"
Kouyo looked at the young man sitting before him - even though Ogata was in his thirties, Kouyo still thought of him as barely more than a child - and agreed. He planned on never again turning down the opportunity to play, because each game has value. Playing Sai taught him that - and he felt like he had only grown as a player for realizing that titles didn't equate to respect.
He won by five moku, and the newly-minted Jyuudan had to accept the knowledge that his master still had plenty to teach him, retired or not.
Right Action: act kindly and compassionately, to be honest, to respect the belongings of others, and to keep sexual relationships harmless to others.
Kouyo found himself spending more and more time in his wife's company as they traveled the world. Akiko was one in a million, willing to leave behind the familiar to travel on what many would consider an insane trip, one with no definite end in sight. She left her beloved son, trusting Akira because she knew her husband needed her more.
It occurred to Kouyo that like many Japanese husbands, he had not always been attentive to his wife. He thought on how to express his gratitude for her loyalty and caring, and only one thing could convey the depth of his feeling. He offered to teach her to play Go.
"Are you sure? I thought you wanted to use your time to study and meet with some of the foreign professionals," she replied, and there was a tentative edge in her voice that could have been reluctance or shyness. He didn't know her well enough to tell which; she had always been the one to support him, not the other way around. "I don't think I'll ever be good enough player to be worthy of your time."
He replied that he would enjoy playing with her, and maybe one day she would be able to play with their son. Her smile of reply nearly blinded him as she accepted politely.
Akiko hadn't spent twenty years around the best Go players in Japan without learning anything, but it was clear after the first game that she would never be strong enough to enter even mid-level amateur competitions. But he found the experience worth repeating the next morning, and the next.
It had been so long since he had played a true novice that it was a revelation. No one would think to have a man of Kouyo's stature as a tutor for a starting player. But in Akiko's every hand he could see the undeveloped potential, and her ignorance would lead her to play moves that were naïve and surprising. She made remarkable steps every day, and the sudden shine of understanding in her eyes as she learned made her more beautiful to him.
Teaching Akiko was relaxing in a way that he'd forgotten about. And he learned from her nearly as much as he did when discussing matches with the top ranking professionals in the world. It was a different kind of game, but Kouyo found his own Go gaining more depth in response as he learned to anticipate unexpected, clumsy and occasionally lucky moves.
Soon they started out each day, right before breakfast, with a quick game or lesson. Kouyo was surprised at how much he looked forward to those quiet moments, when it was just him and his wife. He wondered why he had never thought of teaching her before.
Right Speech: use right words in our daily lives and to avoid lying, gossip, slander and careless language
He found comfort in coming to Go salons no matter what country he was in. He was an old man and his mind wasn't as quick to pick up Chinese and Korean as he'd like. But once he entered a salon, his ignorance was irrelevant, because he knew what truly mattered.
"Badouk hal-kka-yo?"
He smiled and accepted wordlessly, taking a seat across from a stranger. As the man places four stones, Kouyo had an insight into why he was comfortable here. The language they spoke was Go.
Right View: abandon a self centered way of looking at things and see all things clearly.
Like all humans, Kouyo had thought of how he would die. But he had never truly accepted that, telling himself that death would wait until he achieved his goals - from becoming a professional player, to becoming a title holder, to becoming the strongest player in the world. The heart attack was a wake-up call that death would not wait forever, and provided him with an opportunity to re-evaluate his life. He was grateful for that.
He could see the signs of the passage of time, but unlike many of his age group, he didn't feel a desire to make it stop. While he still clung to many of the traditional aspects of Japan, he learned that change wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It simply was, and a man had to understand that things didn't remain the same. It was much like Go; those that remained static went nowhere.
Kuwabara died four years after Kouyo retired, a sudden heart attack that dropped the Honinbou dead in the middle of a demonstration match. It was the official end of an era, but Kouyo could not regret it. He mourned for the old man, the patron geezer of Go as Ogata called him, but everyone must die. Without Kuwabara, though, there was no "older" mentor to use as a benchmark - Kouyo himself was now that final goal for the upcoming generation.
But that didn't keep him from looking to others to help improve his game. The second time Ko Yeong Ha came to Japan, Kouyo welcomed him as a personal guest. The boy's Japanese had improved quite a bit, although he pretended not to speak it when around Shindou. They spent a week together, and played endless games that showed the cocky young professional Japanese Go was worthy of respect.
Kouyo thought the boy was a hybrid of Shindou and his Akira, brilliance and force, innovation and knowledge. Strangely, he understood the uncertainty of Yeong Ha's future better than he understood the race his son and Shindou entertained, because this boy was like himself, unrivaled by any of his peers. Maybe someday he would be lucky enough to meet his Sai, the one who would dethrone him from his arrogant pedestal of confidence.
He hoped it would happen, because while Yeong Ha's Go was brilliant, it would take a rival to truly polish the diamond of the boy's talent. For the thousandth time, Kouyo thanked the memory of Sai for being there when he needed that someone.
Right Endeavor: engage constantly in right conduct without being idle or deviating from the right way.
Sometimes when he looked at his son, he was almost shocked. Akira had grown up into a fine young man, albeit a serious one. But he had grown up. His face had refined as maturity smoothed away the round baby-cheeks, and he stood only a couple of centimeters shorter than Kouyo himself. Akira was built along more delicate lines, and Kouyo could see more of Akiko in their child than of himself. The only thing Akira seemed to have inherited was Kouyo's love for the game of Go. Since that was the most important thing to both of their lives, Kouyo had no regrets.
Kouyo was a wise enough man not to want his son to be a carbon-copy of himself. Akira was his own person - a wonderful, complex, caring and occasionally maddening young man - and Kouyo had faith that Akira would walk his own road. Unlike Kouyo, he was lucky enough to have a rival to seek the Hand of God with.
On Akira's twentieth birthday, he turned the title for the house over to his son. He and Akiko would visit, he said, but it was time for Akira to live his own life. Since Akira was tied to Japan - and would be for as long as Shindou Hikaru remained there - it was more fitting that he keep the family home.
"Thank you, father," Akira replied, but there was both pride and loss mixed into his striking eyes as he accepted the paperwork.
Kouyo had been a Go professional long enough to recognize indecision when he saw it. Moreover, he was Akira's father and understood what was bothering his child. He quietly said that adulthood could be lonely, but he would learn more standing on his own. That was how things had to be.
"I know," said Akira, "but letting go of you isn't easy. I still want to be your son."
Kouyo was a man of deep emotions, although he usually hid them behind a stoic facade. But there were times when it was alright to cry, and he felt no shame in letting his son see his tears.
Right Meditation: always be determined to believe in the teachings of the Buddha and not to be agitated by any change of circumstances.
Touya Kouya knew what they said about him - that he had gone mad, that he had given up - but one of the privileges of getting old was learning not to give a damn. Old age brought wisdom - or just a peculiar form of senility.
He had earned the respect of the Go world, because he was the Meijin, the legendary five-title holder and the man closest to the Hand of God. Throwing that away to play without the demands of the title schedule was viewed as insane by many, or Kouyo admitting that he was passed his prime. He smiled and accepted the criticism, deciding that he had nothing left to prove to anyone.
At this point in his life, the only thing he had left - now that he had established his family and risen to the top - was to keep moving forward. There were plenty of games to play, plenty of opponents he hadn't met yet, and endless things to learn. And somewhere, there was an unknown person who had defeated the Meijin at his peak - even if they never met in person, Kouyo would work to prove himself worthy of what that game had given him.