Fic: Next to NetGo 9/19
Title: Next to NetGo 9/19
Series: Hikaru no Go
Disclaimer: Characters except Fujimoto, Kaneda and Ohda are the creation of Hotta and Obata
Pairing: Akira/Hikaru
Type: AU. What if Hikaru had continued playing NetGo, and never became an insei (or a pro)?
Summary: Hikaru is dragged to the world of professional Go, but you can't make him drink.
-------------(9)----------------
"Him?"
Akira couldn't blame Isumi for sounding incredulous. After all, Kuwabara had successfully defended his title for more than fifteen years, and grew trickier every year. Rumour had it that there were pros who would rather face a ravenous tiger than play a game with him. Yet, here was Hikaru saying that he wanted to play with Kuwabara.
"Yeah." Hikaru narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare after Kuwabara.
Isumi was staring directly at Hikaru, too, his eyes serious with thought, almost as though he were re-assessing his earlier opinion of him.
Akira could understand that. It took someone exceptionally foolhardy--especially a mere amateur--to want to play with someone like Kuwabara.
"I want to play with him," Hikaru repeated.
"But what made you-" Akira started to ask him why, but he had a sudden sense of foreboding as soon as the words were out of his mouth, and bit off the question.
"Because he insulted you!" Hikaru said, finally turning to him, his scowl deepening. "Did you hear what he said? He looked down on you! He laughed, and said 'ambition is good for the young'!" he pointed at the exit. "I'm going to teach that old geezer a lesson!"
Akira prided himself on not being easily intimidated, but he still glanced superstitiously in the direction of the exit at that, as though expecting Kuwabara to appear and accept the challenge. "Hikaru, you-"
"But he's Kuwabara Honinbou, and you're-" Isumi did not finish the rest of the sentence, but the words 'an amateur' were understood. He continued to frown, looking as though he would like to reprimand Hikaru for his rudeness but not wanting to seem rude.
Hikaru stared at him. "What?" he asked, his voice suddenly thin.
"Kuwabara-sensei," Isumi said. "He's been in the Go world longer than anyone can remember, and-"
"No." Hikaru swallowed audibly, and his hand found Akira suddenly. "That other thing you said. About Honinbou."
Akira took in a sudden breath of comprehension.
Isumi continued to frown, but he said, "He's called Kuwabara Honinbou because he holds the Honinbou title."
"Title?" Hikaru looked as though he had heard something alien.
Familiar exasperation helped Akira to regain his composure. "I've told you before, a title is given to the top Go players. They are usually won after many games with other pros." Hikaru did not know much about titles in the pro world, and had no interest in learning, either. What little Akira told him usually slipped his mind within a few days.
"Oh." Hikaru was looking more like his usual self. "Then 'Honinbou'..."
Akira made an effort to soften his voice. "The Honinbou clan allowed the name to be used as a title many years ago, back when Japan was setting up the pro system."
"So there's no connection...?" Hikaru looked at Akira, mute appeal in his eyes.
"Connection?" Isumi was asking, but Akira ignored him and confirmed, "None." He squeezed Hikaru's hand, and released it. "Come on, let's go to the library. I promised to show you the old kifu, remember?" He nodded at Isumi, an abbreviated bow. "Goodbye, Isumi-san." He herded Hikaru towards the lifts, aware that Isumi was still staring at them.
---
"You've been staring at that kifu for a long time."
"Just preoccupied..." As though he were suddenly aware that he was too quiet, Hikaru asked, deliberately cheerful, "Are these all Shuusaku's kifu?"
"You know that better than me," Akira said, looking across the table full of kifu collections. "You've looked through those kept at the Shuusaku Museum, haven't you?"
"Yeah..." Hikaru looked around the tiny archive room, his eyes suddenly old with weight. "Shuusaku left about four hundred kifu. I haven't studied more than a fraction of them."
"There's time, Hikaru," Akira pointed out. "Go is for life."
Hikaru nodded. The kifu in front of him showed Shuusaku's famous Ear-Reddening Game. He had stared at it for a long time once he found it, and the expression on his face had been so wistful that Akira could not help making the remark about staring, to distract him.
"After that game," Hikaru started, his voice low, before he looked at Akira. "That one, with your father, before he retired. I mean," he shook his head a little, trying to get the words out, "the game that caused him to retire, I mean..." he looked at Akira.
Akira decided to take pity on him. "Sai's game with my father," he said.
"Yes. Um," Hikaru nodded vigorously, then grew sober again. "After that game, he said..." he swallowed, and glanced at Akira, before looking down at the kifu again. "After that game," he said again, his words slow and deliberate. "S-Sai said, he finally understood why he'd been allowed to remain in this world for so long. I-" he shook his head, and scrubbed his eyes fiercely. "He said, I was supposed to see that game. That's why he was with me, and I-I think, that's why-"
"Hikaru-" Akira said softly, stretching his hand towards him and finding the table between them. He stood up, but Hikaru was talking again.
"I think that's why he left!" Hikaru choked.
The tears were audible in his voice, though Akira could not see them, not from the way, Hikaru's face was turned away from him.
Akira started to go towards him, but Hikaru shook his head and said, "I'm fine," without looking up. "I mean, look at this game," he said, his voice growing stronger. "He was brilliant. With just one hand, he defended, attacked and consolidated his territory at the same time. I could never, ever play at that level."
Akira sat down in his chair again. "You feel as though you still can't measure up to him."
Hikaru rubbed his eyes, and looked at him. "I haven't learnt enough from him," he said. There was only a little redness at the corners of his eyes. "But at least..." he glanced down at the kifu. "At least, while he was around, I let him play as much Go as he liked." He nodded, once, almost to himself. "Even if it was on the internet, even if it was just NetGo," he said, before he met Akira's eyes. "To think that I had even considered not letting him play!" he smiled, inviting Akira to share the exaggerated horror.
"You let him play instead," Akira said. He remembered the tournament at Kaio, when all the brilliant hands of their game--the game between him and Sai, though he had not known of Sai then--had been followed by one unexpected 11-8. Hikaru had admitted the other day that the 11-8 at that game was his own idea, and not Sai's. Hikaru had attempted to play for himself even then, Akira thought.
Hikaru's brow was wrinkled with thought. "Yeah. But that week, before he left, he said that I had to learn to play my own games. I still didn't realize, you know. That he was leaving." His right hand, clenched, came down heavily on the table with a loud thump. "I was so stupid. He wouldn't have said that unless he was leaving!"
Akira thought about it for a while, biting back the comforting platitudes that sprang to his lips. "He was your friend, but also your teacher," he said finally, going to stand beside Hikaru and taking the kifu from him gently, settling the fragile book back on the table. "He taught you so much about Go. He would have wanted you to play for yourself as well, don't you think?"
Hikaru's gaze followed the kifu. "So... I didn't miss a clue?" he asked. "I didn't miss that he was trying to say goodbye?"
How had he missed the fact that this was Hikaru's biggest regret? Akira nodded. "Wherever he is, he must be really happy that you're still playing Go," he said.
"I dream about him sometimes," Hikaru said suddenly, with the air of someone confessing to a sinful pleasure. "But in my dreams, he just stands there, and says nothing. Sometimes, he holds out his fan, and I think he must be saying something important, but I always wake up before I can figure out what he's saying."
"Fan?" The unexpected mention made Akira curious.
"Oh, yeah," Hikaru grinned briefly. "You wouldn't know. He's always carrying this traditional fan, and when I play with him, he'll use it as a pointer." He looked more relaxed. "My best memories are of him doing that."
"I'm glad," Akira said. Sai had brought sadness to Hikaru, but there were good memories too, he reminded himself.
Hikaru finally met his eyes. "Yeah, me too."
---
As soon as they stepped out of the Go Institute building, Hikaru growled, and turned away. "I don't want to talk to him," he said, taking Akira's hand and starting to walk away in the direction of the train station.
Waya, who was clearly waiting outside for him, shot Akira a look of dislike. "Isumi said you were here, and I-"
"No!" Hikaru burst out. "Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for it, okay? And what's your problem? You're always glaring at Akira. Let's go, Akira."
Waya shouted after them. "6-2!"
Hikaru said nothing and walked on, his long strides nearly pulling Akira off his feet.
"Hikaru-" Akira said. Hikaru had been uncharacteristically quiet after the afternoon in the kifu archive room, something that Akira had expected. The outburst at Waya was unexpected, however.
"Ignore him," Hikaru said, his voice lowered. "6-2 is a stupid hand anyway. No point playing on."
There was something in his voice that seemed intrigued in spite of himself, so Akira asked, "Are you sure?"
Hikaru stopped so suddenly that Akira stumbled, and nearly crashed against him. "Hikaru?"
"All right, maybe it isn't such a bad hand," Hikaru conceded, thinking. "He didn't ignore the extension at the left." He nodded, and made an about-turn, marching back the way he had come.
Akira followed, curious. Hikaru had refused to tell him the earlier hands, so it was difficult to imagine the actual game.
"9-9!" Hikaru was saying as he crossed his arms, facing Waya.
"8-2," Waya said after a brief pause, obviously surprised at Hikaru's return.
"13-1," Hikaru replied.
Waya said, "11-1," his voice growing more confident. Hikaru's eyebrows rose for a second, as though in appreciation. "Okay, then. 17-2."
"17-6."
"18-3."
"18-7."
"Huh." Hikaru subjected Waya to an appraising stare. "You're learning. 14-10."
Waya's frown deepened at that. "13-13. And what do you mean by that?"
"14-8. Nothing. Just thought you might like to know that you've improved," Hikaru said with a hint of his normal jocularity.
Waya's eyes narrowed at that. "12-14."
"11-12."
"15-12."
"8-5."
After a longer pause, Waya looked up. "That-" He seemed to be trying to control himself. "What kind of reply is that?" he demanded.
Hikaru had a comical look of surprise on his face at Waya's question. "What? But I-I-" he stammered.
That's enough!" Waya stalked towards him. "Are you playing shidougo with me? Who do you think you are?" he asked. His face had turned red.
"What-" Hikaru took a step back, his eyes darting from him to Akira in a silent plea for rescue.
"I am a pro!" Waya screamed at him.
The scream made Hikaru back away once more, and not seeing the gravel path behind him, he fell down. Almost immediately, though, Hikaru stood up, his attention glued to Waya, alarmed but suddenly completely alert.
As though he were facing a madman,, Akira thought, deciding to step in. "And your behaviour shows it, I'm sure," he said. It was his turn to grab Hikaru's hand this time. "Let's go, Hikaru. Ignore him." He walked Hikaru all the way to the train station, ignoring Waya's shout of protest.
Hikaru remained silent, and it was only on the way back to Akira's home from the train station that he spoke. "This proves it, Akira," he said, shaking his head as though to dismiss the shock physically.
"Proves what?"
"That pros are crazy!" Hikaru said. "I wasn't playing shidougo with him! I just saw it all of a sudden, you know."
"Saw what?"
"That instead of a step-by-step invasion, I could use the 8-5 position to take away his territory from the inside. Much faster."
"He didn't see it."
Hikaru huffed. "Well, even if he didn't see it, there's no need to say that I was playing shidougo when I wasn't! It's so unfair. If I were playing shidougo with him, I'd have said so. He didn't have to shout at me that he was a pro," he grumbled.
"Waya-san is very conscious of being a pro," Akira said.
"Well, I think it's eating his brain," Hikaru whined. "I mean, does turning pro make people think that they are extra smart, or something?"
"I can't speak for Waya-san," Akira said. "But turning pro only makes me more aware that there are so many more good players out there." Like all the other opponents he had to defeat to get a title. Not to mention the existence of someone like Hikaru.
"Exactly!" Hikaru said. "Being a pro means nothing!" he declared. He caught Akira's expression, and his jaw dropped a little. "Ahaha, present company excepted, of course," he amended with a sheepish grin.
Something was not right. "Of course," Akira said, wondering why his voice was so tentative, as though he was dreading something...
"You couldn't catch me becoming a pro, not for all the prize money in the world!" Hikaru declared.
Oops.
----------to be continued----------
Chapter 8 | Chapter 10