Disclaimer/Note: I do not own Hikaru No Go or any of the characters used in this story. They belong to the series creator, and no money is being made from this story. It is written solely for enjoyment and no copyright infringement was intended. Do no sue. All original concepts in this story are original (duh), and belong to me. Do not steal, or archive without permission. I have kept many of the Japanese terms for the game, plays, and other Go miscellaneous, mostly because I read scanslations and don't know how to translate this jargon myself. Apologies in advance; if you know how the official translation of the manga does it, I would be much obliged. In any case, this story is AC (Alternate Continuity), takes place during the last match of the Hokuto Tournament in chapter 190(-something) of the HikaGo manga, contains lots of spoilers, and is not beta'd. Also, if you haven't finished the manga, this probably won't make any sense to you. Enjoy.

Still Your Turn

If I continue this line of attack, I'll lose the upper hand. . . Shindou Hikaru closed his eyes and took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly through his nose. He needed to calm down, needed to stop panicking and let his mind control his hand. The bitter, sinking feeling of defeat was beginning to brew low in his gut, as if preparing him for some uncontrollable downfall. They had just reached the middle of the game, chuban, and the battlefield had been laid out before him. Behind his closed lids, he recreated the Go board, placed each stone carefully and began to debate his next hand. Ko Yongha was not someone to be taken lightly, not someone that he could win if he let his emotions get the better of him.

At the moment, they were nearly even, and Hikaru's advantage was getting slimmer with each turn; Yongha's previous tsugi and nozoki had effectively negated his earlier attachment and attack near the upper left star. The shape of the stones was starting to become more complicated, the uncertainty of his plays beginning to show. He had to stay in the lead for territory, but. . .

But I can't beat him like this.

The thought came as a surprise even to himself. Hikaru's hand tightened around the fan, balling into a fist on top of his thigh. No! He could not allow himself to think like that; it was still too early in the game! Right now, he needed to concentrate on winning. Losing to Korea's best like this was not an option.

I must make for the center, he told himself, opening his eyes and placing the stone on the board with a harsh clack against the quality wood of the goban. If White connects here. . .No! These are the whites that I must cut apart!

His opponent placed a hand over his mouth thoughtfully, carefully considering his next move. Hikaru held his breath. He was using two nozoki, had caught Yongha off-guard with the unexpected play. His opponent's brows were furrowed, eyes scanning the board for plays. Hikaru could guess what he was thinking. He was probably thinking that if he attacked Black's two groups, then White's own group would end in an unfavorable play. With this one move, he was turning the tables on the Korean representative.

Yongha placed a stone, attacking by linking his own formation up between Hikaru's groups.

The click of stones on the board was following the way that he had imagined it. It was difficult, confusing at times, but definitely strong Go. There was a pause as Hikaru realized that he needed to retreat, but that it would not be easy. He could not retrieve his stones in the lower right corner without also ending in an unfavorable play, but neither could he invade. White was too strong, Yongha's wall too thick.

A few more stones were placed, and Hikaru was beginning to lose territory. He bit his lip, keeping his hands low so that his opponent would not see them tremble.

He was not going to win against the Korean representative in this, the Hokuto Cup, even after all of his big mouthed speeches.

The board in his mind shifted, Go stones falling into the void of thought without sound and disappearing into the darkness.

Is it my fate to lose here. . .?

That's right. Yongha was the better, more experienced player. His opponent wanted to win in order to carry Korea into first place. Hikaru's expression twisted into a mask of anger and passionate hatred for the man across the goban from him, his hands gripping the fan so hard it almost snapped in half. Hikaru slammed a stone down on the board, his eyes trained on the young Korean professional's face.

Yongha may have been the better player, but Hikaru could not allow himself to lose here. This was not a game to showcase his skill or to prove his own worth and power. If this had been a game for himself, he would have resigned by now. But this was a game to prove that Torajiro was a brilliant man, to show this arrogant bastard that there was no one in the world who was more powerful than Shuusaku.

This battle was for Sai, and no matter what happened, he refused to let himself lose.

Yongha was watching Hikaru curiously while wiping the sweat from him own palms before calmly placing another stone. The Korean's somber plays were met by fervor and desperation, were responded to so quickly they both had to wonder if Hikaru knew what he was doing anymore. Akira and Yashiro stood to the side of the board, watching silently with the cameras now that their own tournament matches were completed. The only sound came from the board and timer.

What would Sai do here? Hikaru asked himself, no longer trying to hide his emotions. He let his emotions run wild and finally stopped playing with his head, letting his heart and emotions guide his hand. This kind of playing was instinctual; his brain was two moves behind the game, noticing after the fact which hand had been borrowed from Sai's games against Touya Kouya, and which ones were simply from his own practice matches with the ghost.

Finally, the last stone was placed, and they began to count territory.

"Half moku?" he heard someone whisper from behind him, and Hikaru drew a cautious, shaky breath. Yongha was staring at the board in disbelief. Was that half moku in his favor? Hikaru kept counting.

"Shindou," Yongha began, turning wide eyes on the other First Board. He continued in Korean, and when Hikaru stared at him numbly, not understanding, Hon Suyon translated for him.

"Shindou, before the game, weren't you trying to explain the reason you play Go? He said he wants to know what Shuusaku is to you."

"I. . ." his tongue felt heavy and his lips would not move to form the words. He did not know how to express himself with words. In his mind, the answer was clear. Shuusaku was Sai. Sai was the most important person in the world to him. He could not stand hearing Yongha disrespect Sai's genius, Sai's undeniable talent. But he could not say that. Hikaru could not talk about Sai, because no one would ever understand.

"He says that he wants to know why you play Go."

"Why do I play. . .?" he repeated the words in shock, as if comprehension was far above his current capacity. He kept his gaze focused on the board and finished counting.

The half moku was in his favor.

He had won. His strong feelings for Sai, his passion and respect for the ghost, had been shown through the power of his Go. He had defeated Yongha with ancient technique, with Joseki style plays and hands that had not been seen in a hundred years outside of Shuusaku's game records. But no matter how much of Sai could be seen in Hikaru's Go, the ghost was not there. He had played an amazing game, but there was no Sai to whisper congratulations from behind or exclaim how fast he was progressing.

The feeling of loss only grew heavier.

"I play because I'm an idiot," the words fell from his lips unhindered, rolled off his tongue with surprising ease. Everyone stared at him, confused. Hikaru let his head droop further, trying to hide behind his blond bangs as he struggled to contain his true feelings. He should have been too old, too mature to start crying here, where surely one of the cameras would pick up his tears. The team's manager, Kurata Atsushi, placed a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. But it was not comforting. Only Sai would have been able to comfort him; only Sai's smile would have been able to hold back the dismay and sorrow that welled up within him by finally being able to speak. Somehow, the loss hurt more than when no one was listening, burned his throat as the words continued to force their way out of him, far too bitter and angry for his tender teenage years. "You could never understand him! Someone like you, who laughs off his brilliance with arrogance! If I hadn't—if it wasn't. . ."

He cut himself off with a small strangled sound, and the two teams surrounding the table jumped, worry painting their faces. Akira said his name cautiously; Yashiro just took a step back, eying him warily; the three Koreans began to talk amongst themselves. Yongha's head jerked to the side as he demanded something of Suyon, who quickly began translating into Korean. Their Third Board member crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to be complaining about something. Hikaru squeezed his eyes shut and he clutched at his fan as though it were a life line; held it close to his heart as though it had truly been the one that Sai carried and not just a cheap imitation. But, Goddamn it, he would not cry here!

"Shindou, we don't—"

"If I had been strong like Torajiro, he never would have had to leave!" Hikaru stood abruptly, his chair falling backwards onto the floor. Kurata withdrew his hand, and the Go world watched in shock as the young professional pointed an accusing finger at Korea's best and brightest, practically screaming across the goban. "I will never forgive you for what you've said about Shuusaku! You are no match for even his shadow, Yongha!"

-

Hikaru had not gone to the awards ceremony after the game. Kurata and the tournament sponsor's representative had both scolded him for his childish behavior and dismissed him to his hotel room. He had not left. Hikaru sat in front of the goban in his room with both the black and white stones on his side, only a few hands into the game. Black was on 5-15, the upper left star, and 6-3. White had been placed at 7-15 and 6-8.

It was the only game he cared about finishing anymore. This was the last game that he wanted to play. The fan was still in his hands, held so tight it made his palms ache.

"It's your turn," he said quietly to the vacant space on the other side of the board, watching the stones dispassionately. Hikaru felt tired, burned out after the game with Yongha. No one could understand his feelings for Shuusaku. They could not know why he was so relentless; he could never tell them about Sai.

He closed his eyes, and let his shoulders fall forward. Hikaru was alone now, and that thought brought back all of the heavy emptiness that he had been feeling at the end of the game. This time, he did not hold it back, and began to shake with the force of silent sobs. Tears streamed down his face, and he clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.

"Sai. . ." he whispered to the ghost who was not there, begging him to return. "Please. . .it's still your turn. . ."