Tea for Three

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"Another game? Another game?"

That was what Shindou said to her, again and again, like an echo.

But what did such a question really mean?

Did it mean that she needed to work hard, to play as many games as possible to become strong? Surely. But, in the end, a question like that meant what the hearer wanted it to.

What did she want it to mean?

Beyond the glass doors of the institute the wind howled, and vicious gusts threw fallen leaves every-which-way in turmoil.

She wanted to turn pro, that was sure. That was why she had decided to put Go first; not try for college yet but give Go her best shot. And if she wanted time for fun as well? Was that reasonable?

"Another game, Nasu?"

'Nasu,' her new nickname – not quite her given name but a bit more than her family name – made her feel like someone different.

Someone who, after hours of playing, had chosen another way to answer that question than simply to nigiri once more.

The door clanged shut as a troop of insei chattered their way in followed by a gust of chilly air. If she was waiting now, it was to see him and stop her mind from whirling. It seemed a century since this morning. The voices of the insei faded into childish nonsense, as though she was hearing them across a chasm, just like the careless talk of her girlfriends. Perhaps she was simply tired.

"It's hard to go out with normal kids."

Didn't she just know it. But to find someone who was happy for her when she won, someone whose strength and confidence boosted her own, someone who didn't tell her "to be a realist" or encourage her to give up, someone she could share Go and who would invest hours and hours just playing her. And she'd found it.

"Why are you doing all this for me, Shindou-kun?" she'd asked, when, in truth, she thought she already knew.

Putting her hand up to his cheek she'd slid it over his skin, where a roughness of stubble betrayed the passage of adolescence. When he didn't draw away she'd stretched her fingers into the soft, dark, natural part of his hair and, as though claiming a prize for her hard work, pulled his face to hers.

She was his senpai, though in so many ways he blazed ahead of her. The inconsistency of his early Go had been replaced by brilliance, backed up by dedication and untiring patience. A creature of contradictions: a fashion victim who loved video arcades and fast food but who was fascinated by history and Heian literature! He was a topic of conversation, argument and hero worship among the insei. And still, behind all that, she had found someone else, as though with her daring she had released some sort of genie — unrestrained, generous, boisterously affectionate…

"Nase-san?"

She gave a start. Touya Akira was hovering by her elbow, shadow-like in the formal attire he wore for teaching.

"Are you waiting for Shindou?"

She nodded.

"I need to have a word with him too about something, but he's still upstairs with the study group. May I wait with you?"

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They waited, the shadows outside lengthening as the afternoon wore on.

What use was there in Shindou having a cell phone, Nase fumed to herself, if he left it at home when she most needed to contact him? She had to forgive him though - he'd only just gotten a cell and hadn't yet gotten in the habit of keeping it with him.

What could Touya want to see Shindou about? Go, it could only be about Go. He looked as pristine as always. Just how often did he have to have his hair cut to keep it so neat? A hard straight line, never curling under at the ends. He shook back the strands from his face and turned toward her.

"How many wins does that make?" he asked. He didn't need to say he meant the Pro exam.

"Eight."

Saying that had made her feel good up to now. After all she'd had eight straight wins undefeated. But then and there, saying it to Touya Akira who had simply breezed though the pro exam, including his game against her, when he was four years younger, made her accomplishment seem pitifully little.

Touya's Go was frightening. It was as if the boy lived and breathed the game, distancing himself from the rest of the world. He was polite, reserved and, except when discussing Go with Shindou, extraordinarily calm. He was also unwaveringly smart but disastrously unfashionable. This was what happened when someone let Go totally rule their life.

"Eight wins!" he echoed. "Excellent!"

She knew he meant it good-naturedly, but it was ridiculous. Touya was her better, just like he was better than all of their generation. Nase had hardly ever played Touya. It was always Shindou who played Touya, even when she was there, renewing an eternal conflict that spanned their many games ‒ a story she wasn't a part of, one that had begun even before she'd met Shindou.

"Would you like to play while we wait?" he asked.

That surprised her. It was much nearer to a real compliment. Although she wouldn't play her best right now, she half-wanted to take this opportunity to play someone else, especially someone this strong. Then again, she would surely humiliate herself and that would ruin her confidence. She couldn't decide; exhaustion was starting to win.

"If you're tired we could go for tea instead," he suggested.

She hadn't thought he was that perceptive. Touya so often seemed distant that she wouldn't have guessed he could know how others felt. Strange, how circumstances reversed the roles. Touya had to be persuaded leave the goban to eat sometimes.

"Why don't you bring him out with us?" she'd urged Shindou more than once. She used to think how thin he always looked, how little he ate; for he never ate during a game and he played games back-to-back all day long.

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