Brightly Burning (Hikaru no Go, 9/?)

[aishuu]

Brightly Burning
~ A Hikaru no Go Alternate Universe ~
Disclaimers: Hotta and Obata. Shonen Jump. Not Mine.
Notes: Proving that I can be bribed. This chapter is for Sailor Silver Moon, who is writing “Changes,” the most awesome “Spirited Away” fanfiction on the net.
Earlier parts of Brightly Burning are located here.



Part 9: With All Your Passion

Waya sat in an uncomfortable folding chair in the observation room, with Isumi seated across a table. They waited - with two very different levels of patience - for Shindou Hikaru's New Shodan game to begin.

They had a goban and stones ready, planning to recreate the game themselves. He would copy Hikaru's moves, playing black, while Isumi imitated Ogata. Hopefully placing Shindou's stones might give Waya an insight into how his peer's mind worked, but he doubted it. He still couldn't read games deeply enough yet.

There wasn't a spare seat in the room. The crowd of pros, sitting in twos and threes around the scattered gobans, would have been more appropriate for a title match than the first game of a shodan. Rumors of Shindou's skill had penetrated through the ranks, and everyone wanted to see for themselves if he really was that gifted, or if rumor had exaggerated the truth. This game would be a good judge of that, because Ogata wouldn't cut anyone any slack.

Shindou was playing the last of the New Shodan games. Waya and Kanou had already played their matches, and both of them had lost. Waya had been scared witless of Kuwabara-sensei, who had a nasty habit of slamming his stones down in jerky, abrupt movements. He had known the Honinbou played mind games, but even that knowledge hadn't been able to steady his nerves.

Isumi had commiserated with him, although he'd never played Kuwabara, but he had also advised Waya to take it as a lesson. The older man was notorious for his nasty tactics, and he wasn't the only one. Many pros had developed irritating habits that could be distracting. Waya needed to learn to cope with it, because the world of Go was ruled by the utterly ruthless. While there was honor, there were also the unethical men.

Waya didn't believe in making excuses, but he wanted to believe that the lesson he'd taken from Kuwabara would help him later on. He would never, he swore, let anyone scare him out of playing his best. Fear had no place in a champion.

"How do you think this will go?" Isumi asked him. Since joining the pros, Waya found himself spending more time with his former best friend and less with his former peers from the insei classes. He could see now how he and Isumi had drifted apart. There was a distance between pros and insei, and though Waya wouldn't have believed it six months ago, he was overwhelmed at the intensity of the pro world.

"It will be interesting," Waya said. "I don't think he could beat Ogata-sensei in an even game, but with the reversed handicap.... well, maybe."

It should have been a taboo thought. Ogata-jyuudan's star was in ascendancy. He'd plucked off one of Touya-meijin's titles the year before, which was an accomplishment. He was due to defend it for the first time in a few months, and many Go aficionados were wagering that he'd keep it.

Rumor had it that Ogata would be going after the Honinbou's title again. He'd lost the last match against Kuwabara, but most experts believed that it was time for the old man to finally lose. Ogata, they claimed, might just be the one to knock him off his pedestal.

"You have a lot of faith in Shindou," Isumi murmured. He rested his elbows on the edge of the table, propping his chin in his hands and regarding Waya neutrally.

"Don't you?"

Isumi shook his head. "There's something about him... a part of me wants to believe that he's as good as everyone makes him out to be, but there's something missing. Have you looked at his kifu?"

"I've played him dozens of times," Waya said testily. "Probably more than anyone else. I'm familiar with his style."

"There's something about his style which seems... fake." Isumi struggled to put his observations into words. "He's strong, yes, but there's times when he seems to be imitating rather than playing himself."

"You're kidding," Waya said incredulously. "Shindou is impossible to predict. He plays those hands you can't decipher, and then he completely overpowers you. He's not an imitation."

"A copy is never as good as the real thing. There's always faults in it." Isumi dipped his hands in white's go ke, stirring the stones. "You know who he plays like," Isumi replied in a soft voice. "Everyone knows. It's why we're all so interested in him.”

"He's not Sai," Waya said, shaking his head. "I've played them both, and while Shindou's good, Sai's a master."

"I think most of us know that by now, but he plays like him. Couldn't he be Sai's student?" Isumi asked. "Who taught him, Waya?"

Waya nearly growled. "I don't know, no one knows. He's secretive about it, and trying to press him for answers is like running your head into a brick wall. He's stubborn."

"If he's this good while imitating someone, imagine how he'll be if he learns to play on his own," Isumi replied.

Waya looked at Isumi, and suddenly all of his worries about Shindou crystallized into one realization. Shindou wasn't just going to surpass him - Shindou would surpass the entire Go World, and probably not understand the significance of his actions. “Maybe he has. He's been studying a lot, Akari tells me.”

"Haven't you talked with him yourself lately?" Isumi asked in concern.

"Not really," Waya replied, trying not to squirm with discomfort. "I guess we just haven't made the time," he fibbed.

His friendship with Shindou had cooled over the last few months, ever since they passed the insei exam together. Some might have attributed it to their forthcoming professional rivalry, but Waya understood. Shindou was upset with him, and Waya couldn't blame him. Four months seemed like a long time to hold a grudge, but Shindou had been right.

In the Go world, throwing a game was dishonorable and disrespectful. There were no friends across the goban, just rivals. Competition was an entirely different matter than playing Go for fun. Waya had forgotten, in his desire to help Honda. It was strange that Shindou, who was so unaware of the culture of the Go, had learned that better.

“Waya, if-” What Isumi was said was cut off by the creak of the door.

The sound of the door wouldn't have been noticeable, except a dead silence overtook the room's occupants at the arrival of another pro. Touya Akira glanced around from near the doorway, his jacket folded neatly over his arm. He looked unsure of his welcome, and no one called any greetings.

Most pros had many friends among their colleagues, people that shared time in the insei and among study groups. Touya, though, had taken the exam as an outsider, and most of those in his study group were older, and not the type to take an interest in a New Shodan game, even if Ogata was the one playing. For those older pupils of Touya Kouyo, the results were already decided, and if they wanted to see a victory for Ogata, all they had to do was challenge him personally.

Touya Akira could have been here to watch Ogata, but Waya doubted it. Touya was there for the same reason as the rest of them - he wanted to see if Shindou really was the next Shusaku. That raised a mixture of feelings in Waya he couldn't quite define, and he resented Touya for that.

Apparently he wasn't the only one who didn't like the Meijin's son, since no one was making any overture toward Touya. The only one younger pro Waya had ever seen Touya acting familiarly with was Ashiwara, and he wasn't present. There was currently an exhibition gathering in Tokyo, and many pros were there, including Ashiwara and Ochi. That was part of what made this turn out impressive - Waya had assumed that many pros would go to that event, rather than watch a new shodan.

Isumi looked away from the board, his gaze settling on Touya with a slight frown. It faded as his chin firmed, causing Waya shut his eyes, knowing what was about to happen. He inwardly cursed Isumi for his never failing kindness.

"There's a free seat over here," Isumi said calmly, not having to raise his voice to be heard.

For a second, Waya hoped that Akira would ignore the invitation, but that was dashed when Akira turned his head, nodding to Isumi in acknowledgment. Akira moved toward their table as though the awkward silence didn't exist. He set his jacket on the back of the chair before sitting down.

"Thank you," he murmured. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and Waya realized that Touya had been nervous.

Waya almost felt badly. He'd never been the most popular kid in school, and there had been times when he'd been snubbed. What was it like to be ignored by the colleagues and peers who should have offered you respect? What was it like to have everyone afraid of your skills?

"Are you here to watch Ogata-san?" Waya asked after a couple of moments of uncomfortable silence had passed between them. If he was going to have to put up with Touya, giving him the cold shoulder wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't learn anything from this game if he couldn't discuss it freely with Isumi.

And Touya likely would have some useful insights, too. He wasn't a prodigy for nothing.

"Not exactly," Touya said, pausing carefully before he continued. "I was interested in what Shindou would do. I was wondering if he's improved."

Waya tried to suppress a surge of irritation. What was it about Shindou that got everyone's attention? Sure, he was good, but he was just a shodan, like everyone else. Shindou still had a lot to learn before he would become a threat to the upper ranks.

"Have you seen him at all since the Young Lion's Tournament?" Isumi asked, addressing Touya.

"He's stopped by my father's salon a couple of times," Touya replied, yanking on the cuffs of his sleeves before meeting Isumi's look.

"You've played again?" Waya asked.

"No." Touya wasn't a verbose person, Waya noted irritably.

"Any predictions on the game? Since you know them both?" Waya asked, deciding that if he couldn't ignore Touya, then he'd use him. Waya tried to recall if they'd ever spoken before, and realized that aside from that Pro Exam game, they hadn't. It could be Touya's arrogance, but Waya was starting to suspect the other teenager was shy.

"Shindou's going to surprise us," Touya replied. "He'll do something outrageous."

“Quiet! It's starting!” A voice, which Waya recognized as Saeki's, cut through their conversation. The people in the room started to fall silent, watching the screen with deep concentration. Waya reached into the goban, ready to help duplicate the game as he tried to comprehend Shindou's undoubtedly brilliant tactics.

They saw the back of Shindou's head as he bowed to Ogata, and Waya noticed that Shindou must just have dyed it, since there were no roots. It was a silly thought, but somehow that managed to calm him down. The boy playing against the Jyuudan was his friend; Waya wouldn't forget that again.

Ogata Seiji had one incurable flaw: a habit of thinking too much. He would analyze things until he'd picked them through to the minutest part, and then brood on what he'd learned. It made him a very effective Go player, but was one of the reasons he never managed to make a romantic relationship last longer than three months.

He tried to keep a neutral expression as he sat himself down, tuning out the pre-game explanation he'd heard hundreds of times before. Instead of paying the authorities polite attention the way he usually did, he instead took the time to survey his opponent, wondering if agreeing to this match had been such a good idea.

Ogata's initial impression - and he usually drew very accurate conclusions upon meeting a new acquaintance - was that the boy was clueless. Probably brilliant when it came to playing - no one made it into the ranks of the pros without real skill - but Shindou was uncouth. Ogata hadn't been genuinely offended by the brat's rudeness, but he knew that it displayed how very ignorant Shindou was.

Shindou was listening as Shinoda explained how the hands would be recorded. The unofficial final duty of an insei master was to attend the shodan game, since presumably the insei would be calmed by a familiar presence. It was the last time the pro world would offer the semblance of consideration. After Shindou left today, he would be fair game to the predators that wanted nothing more that to knock him down to size.

Shindou was a young man on the cusp of adulthood, Ogata thought impartially as he stared at the teenager. He was full of that incurable confidence of that age, sure of his own strength. He wasn't at all intimidated by Ogata, not like he should have been. He was excited about this game, Ogata could tell, wiggling in his seat with impatience as he waited for the formalities to be finished.

Ogata decided he was annoyed by that. He hated cockiness. It would be a pleasure to put this youngster into place - assuming he wasn't Sai. Ogata wanted badly to find the hand of god, and he thought he saw hints to the path in Sai.

Sai shouldn't have been wasting his time playing on the net. He was too good for such amateur games. Numerous attempts had been made to find him, but aside from having identified Japan as his home, there was no indication of any kind of truth behind him.

When Sai had disappeared, Ogata had been infuriated. The invisible player had left after beating his mentor, and before Ogata had learned who he was. He wanted the Hand of God, and in the game Touya-meijin played against Sai, he thought he'd seen its shadow. This boy was the closest thing he'd found to a lead on Sai, and Ogata intended on finding, once and for all, the truth in the rumors.

"Do you have any questions?" Shinoda asked both of them, and Ogata jerked his attention back. He shook his head, glancing over at Shindou to see what his reaction would be.

"Nope," Shindou said, weaving his fingers together and flexing his hands. "I'm ready to play."

Shinoda exchanged glances with Amano, who was acting as Weekly Go's representative, but didn't say anything. "Very well."

"Please give me your guidance," Shindou murmured, bowing his head in the ritual opening.

Ogata returned the customary greeting, feeling the intensity of playing begin to settle around his shoulders like a mantle. He always played seriously, but being in the Room of Profound Darkness made him focus like nothing else. He could feel the history of Go itself around him, and that forced him to elevate the level of his game.

Shindou started by claiming a corner, and Ogata responded by doing the same. The next two moves followed the same way, and Ogata waited for the boy to make the next decision. There were a lot of fuseki that could be created from this pattern, and what choice the boy made would offer a glimpse into his mind.

Shindou didn't wait. He claimed another star on “his side” of the board, which Ogata echoed. The boy took another outer star, and Ogata claimed the last, leaving only the Tengen - the central star on the board - uncovered. Interesting, Ogata thought. He hadn't seen yonrensei fuseki in a while, since it had fallen out of style with many of his peers. It wasn't a bad opening so much as a dull one.

And he didn't believe this boy was “dull.” This kid had managed to get Touya Akira's attention. While Ogata was very close to the Meijin's son, he privately believed the boy was socially stunted. It was partly Ogata's own fault, since Akira had never been encouraged to hang around kids his age and definitely suffered from tunnel vision when it came to Go. For Shindou to get through to him meant either that some previously unrealized social instinct in Akira had roused, or that Shindou was an extraordinary talent. Ogata was betting it was the second.

He'd seen recreations of the games Akira and Ashiwara had played against Shindou, and had been entranced by the old-fashioned, bold moves. He played like Sai, he'd immediately thought. There was a depth in many of his moves that laid the foundations for greatness, but he wasn't there yet. There were weaknesses in his play. Ogata had seen Shindou's moves, which were daring and different, while still retaining the classic strength of Shusaku - and Sai.

But Ogata would have won both of those matches - and he would win this one, too. The boy was good, he thought as the game advanced in chuban, expanding the fight for territory into the center of the board. But he was a long way from being Sai.

Ogata could see echoes of Sai's traditional yet brilliant play in this teenager, but this was not Sai. Sai was an elegant player, and some of the boy's moves were sloppy. Most players wouldn't notice the minor faults, since the boy was powerful enough to dazzle with brilliant hands. But Ogata was one of the best, and he could see deeper into the game than most. All he had to do was take Shindou into yose.

There was no was this boy could be Sai. He wasn't sure if his disappointment showed on his face as he played the next move. He had known it wasn't likely, but the rumor surrounding this brat had raised his hopes, although he hadn't wanted to admit that.

Ogata never dealt with disappointment well. It made him irritable, and his Go reflected that. With a few, positively vicious moves, he undid all the work Shindou had created, undermining his shape. The boy didn't back down, and Ogata retaliated with a truly brilliant use of tenuki, ignoring the battle in the lower right as unworthy of his time. By making the move in a new place on the board, he was clearly stating that he considered Shindou a weaker player who didn't understand the depth of the game.

He looked across the board, and saw that tension had drawn Shindou's lips into a firm, unamused line. The shodan played another move, but the fight had gone out of him. It was clear to both of them that even with the handicap, he would not be able to recover.

"I have nothing," Shindou murmured eight hands later, leaning his head forward and bowing his resignation. Ogata thought he saw a glimpse of moisture filling the boy's green eyes. The boy managed to suppress the tears, wiping a hand over his eyes quickly to remove any sign of his grief.

According to the unspoken rules of the New Shodan Game, Ogata should have complimented the boy on his play, pointing out its strengths and weakness. It was courtesy for the experience pro to offer words of wisdom to a newcomer, but Ogata was angry, and lashed out instead.

"You should have resigned ten hands ago. I am better than you are, boy," Ogata said. He pointed at the board. "You've come a long way on your own, but it will be decades before you're able to play against the best."

The boy looked up, a stunned look on his face. He shifted on his pillow, looking like he wanted to object. Ogata didn't let him speak, continuing cruelly.

"If you can't defeat me, there's no way you're ready to play Touya-meijin yet," said Ogata. “Knowing the rules of Go does not a great Go player make. You have to understand the spirit of the game, and you do not. I can see your ignorance in your every hand.”

“Ogata-jyuudan!” Shinoda exclaimed, and from the expression on his face, he was ready to issue a reprimand. “You-”

Shindou cut him off his former teacher, returning the rudeness he'd been offered. “I guess I'll just have to go through you first,” he said softly, his voice firm and unafraid. This time his eyes weren't shining with grief. They were glittering dangerously, and Ogata was taken aback. The boy's expression was suited to a higher dan, not a newcomer who had just lost his first official game.

“I'm going to get a cigarette,” Ogata said, shaking his head and rising off his seat with the smooth ease of much practice. “I've already said all I intend to, since it's obvious this boy needs to learn his place before anyone will need to take him seriously.”

Amano called for him to wait, but Ogata walked out of the room, heading for the doorway. He blamed the slight tremor in his hands on the lack of nicotine. He needed another cigarette.

Ogata stood on in one of the unoccupied meeting rooms of the Institute, the place he usually escaped to when he wanted some solitude. He felt uneasy, and tried to hide that as he fumbled through his pockets. His cigarettes he located easily enough, but after going through all his pockets twice, he realized he must have dropped his lighter somewhere, since it clearly wasn't on his person.

"Looking for a match, Ogata-kun?" a voice said from behind him.

Ogata was proud that he managed to keep from tensing. Of all people to find him, it had to be the old bastard, already smugly puffing away at one of those cigars of his. Ogata kept his cool, turning to accept the matchbook with a muttered thanks, his hands shaking a bit from what he dismissed as nicotine deprivation. "Thanks," he muttered, taking a long drag of his cigarette, and feeling some of the strain melting away.

Kuwabara didn't say anything for a long moment before he plucked the matchbook back and tucked it into his shirt pocket, right by a fancy lighter. Ogata didn't bother to interpret why the Honinbou carried both matches and a lighter. It was probably more of his mind games.

"Silly of you to forget," Kuwabara chided, a smile curving his withered lips.

Ogata shrugged and didn't reply, concentrating on his smoking. The Honinbou just stood by the door, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Kuwabara-Honinbou took what Ogata thought was an unhealthy interest in his career. In a tiny corner of his mind, Ogata kept hoping the geezer would keel over and just die already. His life would be vastly improved by that, but he'd hate it if the old man kicked it before he had the chance to make him eat all of his petty insults and annoying laughs. The finest day of Ogata's life would be the day he managed to claim the Honinbou title.

He swore to himself that would happen this year. The old man was going to go down, and hopefully suffer a heart attack in the process. Then Ogata would buy a six pack and dance on his grave.

"What are you doing here today?" Ogata asked when it became apparent that Kuwabara wasn't going anywhere.

"Just watching a game, Ogata-kun. Just seeing if rumor might be true."

"You should know that they usually prove to be false," Ogata replied.

"I'm an optimist, Ogata-kun," Kuwabara replied, the wrinkles shifting on his face as he displayed yellow teeth in what might have been a smile. "There's often some kernel of truth in most rumors."

"Not this time," Ogata replied, trying to keep from doing anything that the old geezer could use against him in the future. The man was one of the most manipulative bastards it had ever been Ogata's misfortune to meet. "The kid's good, but he's not the next Shusaku."

“Is that all you saw?” the old man asked, and he sounded disappointed in Ogata.

“What else is there to see?”

"That kid's special," Kuwabara said, blowing a smoke ring. "He's the one to watch, not Touya's brat."

"I'd be far more concerned trying to defend a title against Touya Akira than Shindou Hikaru," Ogata said derisively.

"Touya Akira has lived in our world his entire life. He's a refined diamond, glittery and bright. But this brat? He's not even seen a bit of polish. He's all raw talent, and he's already on Touya 3-dan's level. Imagine what he'll be like after he's been shined up some."

“You're getting senile in your old age, Kuwabara.” Ogata snuffed out his cigarette by squeezing it between his fingers. “I saw just a cocky boy who didn't know how to respect his elders,” he lied. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have things I should be doing.”

He brushed by Kuwabara on his way out of the room, pretending not to hear the Honinbou's hacking laugh. Kuwabara, damn him, had cut to the core of what had bothered Ogata. The boy was not Sai; he was something more terrifying. Shindou Hikaru was the edge of the new wave, and was threatening to swamp the current Go world like a tsunami. Ogata wasn't sure if he would be able to keep from drowning.