Hikago FF: Waiting
He was jealous of his son.
The admission startled him. He would never admit it aloud, of course. Never acknowledge it again. But for one brief second in the quiet, back rooms of the Igo Salon he owned, he knew with a blinding certainty that he envied his son, would give all the titles he had earned and all the matches he had played if he could just trade places ... just once. Well, he amended mentally, nearly all his games . . .
He shook his head, rubbing his forehead against the dull ache that nibbled there. He was glad no one had been with him to witness his reaction. It was rare that he came to the salon nowadays; he spent most of his time overseas. It was rarer still that he had no opponents now that he was home; there was hardly any lack of them waiting in Japan. But he was alone, in front of the goban, and he found himself jealous of his son.
He could hear them arguing. Akira's voice hadn't changed too much over the years; it had deepened, certainly, but it never quite lost the intensity that had developed very early on. The pitch may have changed, but the inner quality had not shifted with the years.
So it was the other voice which intrigued him, the one yelling back at his son. That one ... yes. That one had changed. He remembered the first time he had confronted the boy, remembered the uncertainty in his moves. The awkward way those young hands had held the Go stones, the way those green eyes had darted across the grid, and recalled how the boy had seemed to talk to himself silently, as if in prayer.
Or the times after that ... after that hand had grown more sure of how to place the stone just so. The quality of that voice as it had asked for a game of Netgo. And the outcome of that game....
So many changes, in such a short time ... it was like watching a river gaining momentum to the sea. There was something unstoppable in Shindo Hikaru; even he found himself caught in the current.
He closed his eyes, and one hand went to rest on the empty goban in front of him. He listened to the rise and fall of voices as the boys' squabble intensified. It was unworthy of him, he knew, to feel this sort jealousy about any other Go player, not to mention his own son.
If he just picked up the phone, he knew he would have the best opponents in Japan ready to face him. If he turned on the computer, any number of worthy opponents around the world would have gladly give him a match.
There wasn't a lack of people to play. That wasn't the problem.
"Touya! That's a perfectly good kosumi!"
"Yeah, perfectly good if you want to lose the upper right corner fourteen moves later! Why are you being so sloppy lately? Takamine-san nearly beat you last week."
"I still won, didn't I?"
"A three moku win is NOT a good one. And it reflects poorly on me, as your rival. Please crush your opponents better in the future!"
"Oh really?! I'm not the one who won by only four moku to Yamanaka. When I lose, you nag. When I win, you nag. UGH! You're worse than ...." the voice hesistated for a moment. "UGH! I can't believe you!"
He listened for the rattle of a chair being pushed forcefully backwards. Despite his troubled thoughts, he rose and stepped out of his office, just in time to catch the eye of the youth as he stormed past.
"Of all the stupid, idiotic, bast---oh! Touya-sensei!" bright green eyes widened, and the diatribe spluttered to a stop. "How are you? I didn't know you were back from Korea. Touya didn't tell me." The boy stopped and flung another venemous glance backwards. Then Shindo turned around, and hastily executed a bow.
He felt the side of his mouth quirk upwards as he nodded in reply.
"Father!" Akira had also stood up. "I didn't know you were in the Salon. Mother said that you weren't feeling well." Akira blinked, and his fingers laced together, a rare sign of nervousness. The boy would never do such a thing in front of the goban. He sighed.
Shindo too, turned startled eyes toward him. "You okay, Touya-sensei?"
"I'm fine," he reassured them. "I heard you two had a good game."
Shindo blinked, tilting his head to one side. "Oh. So you heard us, huh? Eh ... we were a bit loud, weren't we?"
"Both of you should remember that there are other players here, and that courtesy must be paid to them all."
Akira ducked his head, instantly penitent. "I am sorry, Father."
"Yeah. I'll try not to yell so much." Shindo itched the back of his head.
"However, it is good to hear such enthusiasm for the game," he continued. A relieved grin blossomed over Shindo's face. "You have been playing very well lately, both of you. I am glad that you are continuing your matches together. By the way, Shindo-kun, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about. A match I would like you to . . ." he stopped, taking in the sudden, slack jawed expression. Shindo's shoulders had stiffened, and his eyes darted to the door. "Shindo-kun?"
"Y-you want another game? With ..." Shindo's eyes dart towards Akira, and he splutters to a silence.
How strange.
His son, too, is shooting Shindo a sharp glare. He is taken aback; perhaps his son doesn't know everything about his rival, after all. He has promised to keep Shindo-kun's secret, but he thought Akira had surely known ...
"Yes, I would like another game, Shindo-kun. Please."
"Father, Shindo ..."
"T-touya-sensei, maybe a-another time. I've got to go now!" Shindo stuttered, hands fluttering wildly. He gestured to Akira. "Touya-er-junior?"
Akira gave him a startled look. "WHAT did you call me?!"
"Um. Touya, I'll talk to you later." Shindo headed toward the door. "I must be leaving, please excuse me!"
"Shindo! Wait! What about my father's request ... Wait!" Akira threw both hands up in a rare show of frustration. "I'm sorry father. But about that game ... who does Shindo --"
"It's between me and Shindo-kun."
Akira's eyebrows knitted together, but he did not press for an answer.
Some part of him felt proud. His son was growing up to be an honorable man, willing to seek his own answers.
"Then ... I'll ask him to talk to you, father, the next time I play him. Don't worry. It'll be soon ... he always comes back. No matter how odd he may be, he always comes back ... that's one thing I can count on." Akira trailed off. "Father?"
Yes, he was jealous of his son. The admission shamed him.
"I would appreciate that very much, Akira."