A/N: So many things about this chapter. It was supposed to be shorter. I have so much schoolwork it is ridiculous. I wrote this instead. Love me.
Thank you so much for the reviews, everyone! :) They're part of the reason this chapter came out so quick.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hikaru no Go.
Pairings: Ditto last chapter.
Warnings: I'm sorry.
Chapter 10
Broken Cord
Kawakami was a rational person, or so he liked to think of himself. Within the past eleven years of him opening this shop under the hand of a distant relation, he could admit that his salon had seen more than its fair share of talent. It had also, mostly due to its connections, seen more than its fair share of drama: the convolution of the Fujiwara family from its upper tier had swayed even the most distant of branches. Kawakami had not known Fujiwara, Inc's head personally but he had met his late wife once: Fujiwara Saika had been a beautiful but cold figure. He had doubted the woman was capable of anything resembling love, romantic or maternal - and he had yet to be disproven of such a belief.
Which was why meeting her teenage son some seven years later (only a year after her death) had been a shock. Sai bore such a remarkable resemblance to his mother that it was uncanny and disquieting, and Kawakami at first had a hard time even meeting the boy's eyes. But Sai was different: he smiled, he laughed, he cried when he was teased and fought viciously when faced with injustice. Sai was as beautiful as his mother had been but he was so much more alive than she ever was.
And the talent, the sheer skill that Sai wielded - he'd blown through the salon and breathed the game as greedily as air. Kawakami had been shocked, had been impressed, had been humbled - and even now he still felt that mix of awe and love that he sometimes wondered if this is what parents felt when seeing their kids take their first step, speak their first word, graduate and dream and accomplish.
So when Sai finally returned, months after a terrible accident that still made Kawakami's heart twist whenever he remembered it, guiding in the only child he'd ever claimed as his student... Well, Kawakami could only assume that this was what being a grandparent felt like.
Hikaru was childish and petty, as quick to taunt as he was to lash out, doled out smiles and insults in equal measure. He could be sweet and polite one moment and then caustic and bitter in the next breath. He was talented, his skill not as readily apparent as Sai's had been but discernible, something present in the way green eyes watched the board and saw something being crafted that would leave his opponents wondering.
Hikaru was also a victim.
Late at night, well after the salon had closed, Kawakami had been forced to wait after with his wife. Sitting at one of the tables and draining the smoke from a lit cigarette had been Kawai, easygoing smile on his thin lips as he told them terrible things. Stories about children and adults, about money and lust and perversion, about monsters and victims.
His wife had cried because that's what good, honest people do when confronted by things not of their element. Kawakami hadn't because he'd always lived in the shades of gray, knew the taste of ash and humiliation intimately and, no matter how much Kawai rattled the chain, Kawakami would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him despair. (Kawai had laughed and laughed, of course, but some monsters only prey on other monsters.) Instead Kawakami thought only of the things he could do, of his own power and why the Fujiwara family had entangled themselves so deeply that they believed Kawakami and his salon were a variable to be controlled.
Go. It had been the center of Sai's world before Hikaru came in and one that still continued to dominate Fujiwara's only child. Hikaru was both skilled in it and utterly ignorant to anything involving Go outside of the board, which had been convenient for a time - it was hard to feel the social pressure if one didn't know the stares were being directed at them. The clientele had learned early on to say nothing of the pro leagues, to mention nothing of Sai's rank, and Kawakami had been just as ready to step in should even Hikaru's Go-obsessed friend begin anything on Fujiwara Meijin's career.
Touya Akira was an unexpected addition. It was also enough to catch Kawakami off his guard, but he had allowed himself to be at ease when it looked like Hikaru would not connect the dots. Unfortunately, Touya had connected the dots for him.
Kawakami had never seen it firsthand, but he'd heard of the damage caused in Geographica because Hikaru had been set off. Whether the shock would cause him rage or hysteria, Kawakami wasn't sure, but between his own feelings on the matter and the consequences should Sai find his precious student upset, making sure Hikaru remained calm and unharmed was the best option.
"Sai's the Meijin?" Hikaru repeated again, quieter. Kawakami wondered which aspect of this truth was causing the most damage: that Sai had kept this relatively important information from him, that the Meijin was teaching him Go, that he was adopted by the Go World-equivalent of a celebrity, or the possible repercussions of being the Meijin's only student would incur. It was likely a combination of all of the above, if the salon owner was to be honest with himself.
"You should call and ask him," Kawakami suggested evenly, gently pulling Hikaru out of his chair and leading him to the backroom. He wasn't going to risk the kid running off to who-knows-where. "This is something personal that you need to discuss with him."
"Oh, is that what I need to do?" Hikaru mocked. "Because he seems perfectly fine with not talking about any of this with me!"
Kawakami held back a smile. Anger was something he could deal with - kids got angry all the time. It was a healthy reaction. It was also enough to distract Hikaru from Kawakami's attempt at isolating him - had the boy been more calm, he would have responded unfavorably to being placed alone in a room with an older man. Hence the reason Kawakami ventured no further in the doorway, unwilling to risk pulling Hikaru's attention to more painful reactions.
"You should tell him that," Kawakami said, pushing Hikaru into the room and turning to share a look with his wife. She nodded with a sharp smile, which he took as an assent to watching and making sure Hikaru couldn't run off and hurt himself. Something crashed to the floor behind him and he glanced back to see Hikaru scowling at a fallen chair.
"Hikaru-kun, stop taking your anger out on my furniture," Kawakami reprimanded lightly. He ignored Hikaru's complaint about unjust persecution as he turned his attention back to the rest of the salon. The other customers had resumed quiet conversations, occasionally glancing over in his direction but understanding holding back their more gossip-mongering nature. The privilege of being among the few to personally know and meet with the Meijin and his student had kept them silent before and Kawakami knew it would keep them that way.
His eyes fell on the three junior high school students. Tsutsui and Touya were looking over the game, equally pensive expressions over their features and utterly silent. Kishimoto had taken to staring vacantly in the direction of the backroom, apparently shocked right into a stupor.
"Oh? Kishimoto-kun is capable of more expressions than disdain or smug superiority?" another patron cackled off to the side.
Which was apparently enough to snap Kishimoto out of his trance, dark eyes quickly gaining life in order to find the culprit. Nothing was more sure to get a rise out of young men than insulting their delicate egos, Kawakami thought wryly. It would have been cute if Kishimoto hadn't spat something back about impending funerals and a wish for the other customer to choke on his dentures, which was a clear indication the otherwise level-headed young man had been spending far too much time playing Hikaru. Juvenile insults were starting to become inappropriately common. Honestly, even though the young man looked the very image of a regal prince capable of holding court, he acted more Hikaru's age than Hikaru.
"I should hope that you know better than to spread this further than yourselves?" Kawakami asked, coming to a stop before the three young males. Tsutsui and Touya managed to tear the gazes away from the game to stare up at him with mild alarm, a look that was only just starting to filter in onto Kishimoto's face.
"Fujiwara-sensei really hates it when Hikaru gets upset," Kawakami continued, keeping his tone even. He really hated threatening children but in the great scheme of things - better he warn them off now than have Kawai terrorizing them later.
"Of course we won't tell anyone," Tsutsui piped up, sounding far too calm. The boy had always struck Kawakami as observant and he'd seen quite a few instances in which Tsutsui showed an apt understanding of Hikaru's situation. It was for this reason Kawakami was willing to believe him.
Kishimoto snorted, "I had no intention of telling anyone about him before and that definitely won't change now." Kaio's Go club captain was really starting to strike Kawakami as the type of boy who pulled on the pigtails of the girl he likes.
Touya had turned his eyes back to the board, saying nothing for a long moment. Slowly, he reached out on hand to hover over the board, fingertips coming down to rest lightly on the stone that had cut through his shape in a surprising move he hadn't been able to foresee. He'd recovered quickly enough afterwards, to be sure, but that Hikaru had been able to place the move in the first place…
"If Fujiwara-sensei thinks it best, then he will go at his own pace," Touya allowed softly. "I will not tell anyone, even my father."
Because Hikaru was Akira's rival - he could see that now.
Hikaru hadn't called Sai because he didn't want to speak to the man in that moment. The Meijin! (Whatever the fuck that even really means!) Sai was some kind of master player at Go and didn't even have the decency to tell the kid he was teaching what that really meant!
Hikaru grabbed his phone.
To: Sai
You're an idiot!
Sent.
Hikaru shoved his phone back into his pocket and spent a moment glaring at the wall. He spent even more time thinking about what this all really meant. Slowly, anger bled into thought, which bled into a sickly feeling of worry. If Sai was this master pro at Go, then what did he think of Hikaru? Sai had picked up some kid from the street and was teaching him Go, a game Hikaru thought he was getting fairly good at - but what if he wasn't good enough, if at all?
What was Sai's intent on picking him up anyway? People didn't just find some kid on the street and take a vital interest in their well-being, no matter how the movies sold such intent. People ignored the things they could not understand, pretending it didn't exist so that they didn't have to deal with the consequences of facing it head-on.
If Sai was lonely, he could have amassed a following from any number of Go enthusiasts. If it was a student he wanted, people who were already into the game from the start would have been the smarter option.
Nothing about Hikaru stood out. He looked normal, his skills in the game Sai loved mediocre, his intelligence average - what was there about him that could have possibly interested Sai?
He was tired of trying to find the answer to Sai: the man's goals, his motivations, his reasons, and his beliefs. Sai had picked Hikaru and the boy still wasn't sure why. Sai had taught him Go and Hikaru didn't fully understand the reason for doing so. Sai believed in him enough to continue teaching him, to take him to Go salons and introduce Hikaru as his student to others, to adopt him when not even his own mother wanted him anymore.
Hikaru was tired of asking why of everything. But perhaps even more than that, he was terrified of the answer he would receive.
Won't he get tired of me? Hikaru wondered, staring at the far wall. If Sai had picked him up based off whim, then he would get discarded just as easily if he could not keep the man's attention.
But he adopted me, Hikaru thought to himself desperately. Surely that meant something? Adoption was not whimsical, it required time and energy and more than enough devotion. But then again, wasn't parenthood the same? His parents had certainly seen no reason to keep him.
Hikaru pulled out his phone again, staring at the closed screen. Maybe it was Hikaru's job to make sure Sai didn't get bored of him? To keep Sai's affection, to never disappoint him, to make sure Sai would never regret making Hikaru a part of his life - maybe that was what Hikaru needed to do.
With shaking fingers, Hikaru typed out his next message.
To: Sai
Sorry, I didn't mean it.
Sent.
"Hikaru-kun, are you done?"
Hikaru nearly jumped a foot in the air, whirling around to turned alarmed eyes on a vaguely-amused Tsutsui. The older boy had his head cocked to the side, a small smile on his lips. No change, no wonder in his eyes - just the same old Tsutsui.
"S-Sorry, what is it?" Hikaru managed out.
"If you're done talking to Fujiwara-sensei, would you like to get lunch?" Tsutsui asked, leaned against the doorway. "Kishimoto is offering to pay."
"And when did I say that?" Kishimoto interjected, unseen.
Hikaru stared at his upperclassman. Then, slowly, a genuine smile - which quickly morphed into a mischievous smirk. "Well, since Kishimoto is offering..."
"I'm not!"
Touya stepped up, peering around Tsutsui's shoulder with an unruffled expression. "We should thank Kishimoto-senpai for his generosity," the boy stated peaceably.
"I hate all of you." He ended up paying for lunch anyway.
Sai stared at his two received text messages in open bafflement.
Ogata leaned over his shoulder, lips twitching up in a smirk. "Hello pot, I'm kettle," he muttered in an undertone.
Sai casually stepped on his foot and speed-dialed his charge. He was understandably a little shocked and confused when the first thing Hikaru greeted him with when answering was an aggravated, "Akira's an idiot who refuses to admit that my move at the tengen point was brilliant out of the sheer jealousy he feels for my ability to choose my own clothing."
Someone was yelling at Hikaru on the other end.
There were different kinds of people for every occupation, and it was the same for professional Go. For every Fujiwara Sai, there was an opponent that thought cheating would bring them the glory they craved; for every Touya Akira, a politician who prioritized winning over genuine success; for every Ashiwara Hiroyuki, the person who sought money over enjoyment and appreciation. There were pros that fell somewhere in between these people, or out of the spectrum altogether - and Ogata was among them, because people were not so neatly classified between the just and the cruel.
Ogata ascended the ranks of professional Go through skill but navigated the socioeconomic stratification found in every profession the only way he knew how: manipulation of an extensive network and seeding contacts anywhere and everywhere he could. Admittance into the former Meijin's study group hadn't been on skill alone because it took awhile to turn heads with people like Fujiwara Sai tearing through the ranks. A combination of deceit, blackmail, and the calling in of favors had landed him on that list in equal measure to his own abilities.
In the great scheme of power politics, everyone was a player whether they wanted to be or not. This was the philosophy he followed throughout most of his life and Ogata owed a great deal of success to it.
"It's unusual for you to ask me out to tea like this," Shirakawa Michio noted pleasantly. He looked decidedly unruffled and very benign, adorned in his fluffy white sweater and looking like any other late twenty-something who had found peace in their lives. Ogata both envied him and hated him all at once.
Ogata fought the urge to take out a cigarette and see if he could crush the burning end of it into the other man's eye fast enough. "That's because I decided you needed space after you smashed my apartment window."
Shirakawa's eye ticked, "You cheated on me."
"We were never dating," Ogata growled. "It was a one-time thing. Even the woman I was supposedly cheating on you with was a one-time thing and you still punched me. But remember how I agreed not to press charges?"
Shirakawa sighed, sounding simultaneously disappointed and patronizing. "You always bring up such unpleasant topics," he said with a tone of regret.
Ogata remembered all too well why he decided to steer more clear of this particular contact. Shirakawa was cunning in a way that wasn't accurately reflected on the goban; his manipulation of the people around him would have made him a powerful politician if a fondness for Go hadn't sent him on a different path. Ogata still hadn't decided if it was a good or bad thing that Shirakawa had crippled himself.
"I'm calling in that favor," Ogata stated blatantly.
Shirakawa rose an eyebrow, curious. "What could I possibly do for a reknown Go pro like yourself?" He paused, a small smile that looked downright evil alighting his lips. "Oh, did Fujiwara reject you? I didn't think you'd ever have the balls to confess."
Ogata eyed the confectionary fork just millimeters from his hand. It would work just as good at gouging out eyeballs.
"This isn't about sex," Ogata returned dryly. It wasn't a preoccupation with carnal desires that had prompted Shirakawa's assumption, just an innate ability to see which buttons he could press that would get Ogata angry enough to let something more valuable slip. The bespectacled ninth-dan was both impressed and vastly irritated.
However, Ogata came here for more personal concerns than making sure Shirakawa knew he wasn't his personal chewtoy. "I want you to evaluate and - should he pass - allow a student into the insei program," Ogata said evenly.
Shirakawa snorted, boredom written clearly all over his features as he reclined back into his seat with an aristocratic air. "Well, that does sound like my fucking job, now doesn't it?" he sniped, one finger tracing the outline of his teacup in a gesture both lewd and graceful. Ogata ignored his reaction in favor of keeping his irritation in check.
"Without officially meeting his guardian," the ninth-dan added.
That caused Shirakawa to pause, expression turning shrewd. The seventh-dan was smart, supplementing his professional career with being director of the most prestigious insei program. He'd started off as teacher of community Go classes but handed that off to lesser-dans after being aggravated by his elderly students. According to Shirakawa, with the friendliest smile ever pasted on to his face - children were easier to intimidate.
"That's unusual," Shirakawa began far too casually.
"He'll have formal consent, but a face-to-face meeting at the insei school isn't a viable option," Ogata explained.
"It's not impossible," Shirakawa allowed slowly. "Although you seem to be going to unnecessary lengths to make this happen. Just who is the kid?"
Wrong question, Ogata thought privately. "Doesn't matter. Just take a look at his application, alright? But be fair - if he doesn't make the cut, don't let him in." Ogata didn't need Hikaru's already unstable ego to take a beating he wouldn't be able to come back from if he was allowed in and then subsequently pummeled by the other insei kids.
Shirakawa shrugged, "Well, alright then. This seems like a fairly light deal to me."
Ogata snorted, bringing his mug of coffee to his lips with a smirk. "That's why you're footing the bill."
Sai stared down at the dinner laid out before him. It's already been several months but he didn't think he'd ever get used to it - the idea of having a meal that was homemade, casual and familiar in a way he'd never experienced before. It was so unlike his youth: between the caretakers from both his father's home and his uncle's, mealtime had always been a polite and lonesome affair.
"Stop gaping and eat," Ogata ordered with a sneer, taking off the apron with a scowl. The ninth-dan had perfected the look of someone absolutely hating every moment of his life while actually enjoying it. Sai hadn't quite figured out why Ogata's severe expression rarely wavered.
"Of course, I apologize," Sai returned automatically. With a quiet "Itadakimasu," he picked up his chopsticks and looked over the meal appreciatively. Deep-fried sweet potato and mixed tempura with garland chrysanthemum, burdock root, and prawns served over rice. It came with a bowl of miso soup and cup of hot tea each.
Hikaru took up his own chopsticks with a low thanks, eating his food delicately as if afraid of it getting up to bite him. Ogata spared him a glance, silently musing he should come over to cook breakfast more often because clearly, clearly Sai's cooking was just further traumatizing the poor kid.
"It's always so delicious," Sai said, appreciation oozing from every word. Ogata accepted the praise with a superior smirk, nearly preening at receiving it from his- friend. Hikaru noticeably stiffened, head bowing low and shoulders slightly shaking. Surprisingly, he kept any comments at bay.
Ogata shrugged, lightly kicking the boy in the foot. Brat, he thought without any spite. Hikaru jumped back, taking a larger bite of his tempura now that he seemed certain the food wasn't going to upset his stomach.
"Where did you learn to cook?" Sai asked.
Ogata took a bite of burdock root and prawn, chewing for a moment and letting a pleasant pause stretch over the table. Even Hikaru had stopped silently mocking Ogata's trouble with dense men, instead looking far more curious.
"My mom taught me," Ogata admitted. It was only through extensive exposure to Ogata's usual brand of barbs and caustic attitude that they could even detect his softening tone. "She was too sick to cook most of the time and I told her I wanted to help out. She taught me the basics, just to get us by on the simple meals."
Both of the younger males were looking at him now, although he was glad to see they hadn't taken his high school teacher's route of projecting abject pity at him. The fact that both Sai and Hikaru had managed enough emotional connection related to family to convey a vague sense of understanding was particularly gratifying.
"I just sort of took to cooking then and my parents always seemed to enjoy it whenever I spiced up the menu," Ogata continued, tone almost kind. "Then after Mom died, Dad would say that she was definitely overjoyed to see that I was improving on her recipes."
His mother had died at an early age so Ogata felt he could sympathize with Sai over that particular loss. Ogata, however, was far closer to his parents than his icy visage would suggest; they had both been doting, supportive people who did their best to raise their son. Given that his mother had come under a terminal illness when Ogata had just started junior high school, the fact that the woman had acted strong for her family's sake had stuck with Ogata the longest.
Perception, he had learned, was important when it came to getting things done. He knew his mother had suffered daily, the aches and pains growing with every passing moment. She still tried to smile at him, no matter how brittle her bones became. His father, who continued to work long hours to afford better care, always tried to be there in some way for his son even after his beloved wife had finally passed away. He would make boxed lunches for Seiji when he came home in the late hours of the night instead of heading straight to bed, wrote encouraging messages if he couldn't make it in time for meals, always treated his child with a gentle hand and fond smile.
Ogata took all that with him, locked it somewhere inside of himself for only the precious few. People were not just the culmination of their parents, after all: he'd learned patience from his parents, a sense of common decency and the importance of being strong no matter how adverse the conditions. But he'd also learned how to be vicious from the bullies in his school, how to hurt those who had hurt him first, how to scoff at those who didn't try in some way to better their stations as if life was just something they should only accept blindly.
The bespectacled man looked up from his careful consideration of the prawn, meeting the teary gaze of Sai. I didn't admit all of that just to make you cry, he thought with wry concern. Sai certainly looked emotionally moved at this point, but then again - a snail that had successfully made its way across the road would have sent Sai into a catharsis. The Meijin was ridiculously easily influenced like that.
"I can't speak for your mother," Sai began, voice gentle and unassuming. The tears had left his eyes and now there was nothing but sincerity in his gaze that made Ogata's own soften in response. The Meijin continued on, tone just as kind as Ogata's had been as he spoke of his late mother, "But I know that every meal you make for us is a gift that I cannot appreciate enough, Seiji."
Ogata stared at him, expression contorted, strung between utter embarrassment and pleased contentment. Honestly, it was just like Sai to overreact like that and say something so- so stupid and heartfelt like that!
"No wonder your cooking tastes so good," Hikaru broke in casually. "Family recipes always trump cookbook recipes any day."
That was definitely a thinly-veiled poke at Sai's attempts at cooking, but it only went over the Meijin's head as Sai whole-heartedly agreed with the boy's assessment. Hikaru didn't elaboarate further on, though, confusing Ogata - usually the kid had no trouble teasing Sai over the man's less-than-skillful hands at things other than Go.
Still…
Ogata smirked, sharp eyes uncompromising. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said, far too casual. Hikaru tensed, sensing a trap and looking up at him with narrowed green eyes. It was a look that suited the kid more than the slightly-troubled expression he'd been carrying around ever since he came home the previous night.
"I'm going to teach you how to cook," Ogata decided, eyes firmly on Hikaru and smirk victorious.
Hikaru's eyes went wide. "What-"
"Oh, what a good idea!" Sai chirped happily.
Ogata nodded, "This way you can at least have a decent meal since this idiot," he stuck a thumb out in Sai's direction, eliciting a huff. "Can't cook anything, even a freezer meal."
"Yes I can," Sai mumbled defensively, staring down at his dinner. Ogata glanced over at him dismissively; he could practically hear the world's smallest violin doling out its melancholy tone to better fit the morose picture.
"Isn't it a family thing?" Hikaru pointed out, tone hitcing up.
Ogata rose an eyebrow, "Do you really think I'm going to have a kid?"
True - the man practically oozed hatred of children.
"We'll start tomorrow with breakfast," Ogata continued on, blithely ignoring Hikaru's spluttering. "That means I'm waking you up an hour earlier than your usual time, kid, so set your alarm if you don't want to be greeted by a cup of ice water being thrown onto you."
Ogata thought this worked out rather well for him. Not only had he come up with a plausible excuse to be over at Sai's place nearly every day now (not that he already wasn't), but now he also got to teach the valuable lesson of chores. It wasn't that Hikaru was necessarily irresponsible, as the kid had managed to keep himself alive for however long his mother had stopped caring, but with the introduction of chores into his daily routine, it would cement the idea of Hikaru being part of a household.
Sai had started with something simple such as helping with dishes but Ogata knew that wasn't enough. Sai was just too soft when it came to the kid, which was all well and good when it came to things like comforting and supporting Hikaru - but someone needed to be a reasonable authority figure around here. Sai only ever got frightening when he deemed Hikaru to be suffering physically or psychologically. In matters such as a daily routine and the household norms, even Sai could use some help. Ogata was just being a good friend in pitching in.
It didn't hurt that this helped raise him in Sai's esteem, because oblviiousness could only last so long and Ogata had no problem waiting.
"Okay," Hikaru relented, managing to keep his tone just shy of outright sulking. Ogata had to admit he was surprised - he expected a lot less gracious assent. He knew the kid could scratch and bite until his last breath so he'd been prepared to just persuade him that learning to cook was doubtlessly more useful for future endeavors.
Maybe he's just that desperate to avoid Sai's cooking, Ogata mused but a nagging feeling of doubt tugged at the corner of his mind.
Dinner was finished in short order, Hikaru and Sai picking up the dishes as Ogata made some more tea for the Meijin's after-dinner chat. The boy seemed to sense the change in the air, eyeing the humming Sai at the sink conservatively as he retook his set next to Ogata at the table. The bespectacled man shoved a mug of tea in his direction, a silent clue that he would be here for awhile. Sai sat down at the table once finished with the dishes, taking his own mug with a smile of gratitude directed at his friend.
Turning a warm gaze to Hikaru, the man leaned forward a bit, excitement clearly lining his posture. Hikaru took this as a sign that it couldn't be bad news, or even life-altering news, as Sai instead had a habit of trying to compose himself into a position ready to comfort Hikaru should he not react well. If he was excited, that meant it probably had to do with Go.
"Do you remember what I said before of the insei program?" Sai asked, eyes practically sparkling. Hikaru racked his mind to better identify the words: something to do with better studying Go among the more serious Go players who were kids like himself.
Tsutsui had been talking about it recently, with a sort of pointed look added on that mostly went over Hikaru's head. Kishimoto had been nodding along, apparently having had some experience with the program, and set about explaining it every time they weren't discussing or playing games. Then during the dinner he'd shared with the two older boys and Touya Akira, the latter had looked expectantly at him - which was when Hikaru finally understood why his friends brought it up so often. But they were just kids so Hikaru hadn't taken it very seriously besides as flattery.
Sai, however, was an adult.
And the Meijin, his mind supplied helpfully, sardonically, a whisper of discomfort veining its way into his mind.
"Something like an apprentice, right?" Hikaru hazarded out.
Sai nodded. "More specifically, someone who enrolls as an apprentice to Go with the express intention of entering the professional leagues."
Because playing Go was a career. And the notion still surprised him.
"I can see with every game that you've improved, Hikaru," Sai began softly, the smile on his face shining with pride. The very look earned Hikaru's wide-eyed stare because he was sure he'd never seen that kind of look aimed at him before. "Kawakami-san has told me about your games in the salon and with every teaching game, you are improving by leaps and bounds. Hikaru - I think you are ready to enter the insei program."
A pause, Sai keeping his gentle smile and proud look. "But only if you want to, of course. I never did ask you before, did I? What you actually wanted to do in the future?"
Hikaru was staring at him, not quite processing this. He was ready for insei? Sai wanted him to become a professional Go player? (How was that a thing?) But more than that, what Hikaru wanted to do in the future - and wasn't that just the funniest question of all.
If someone had asked him that question maybe just five months ago, Hikaru would have laughed and laughed. He was not used to thinking about his future because he had to think of the present first and foremost. The future was an ephemeral concept, better left to those dreaming fools who could afford to eat or on a blank piece of paper his teachers would periodically hand out.
Hikaru could remember what he'd written on a few, with a mocking sweep to the kanji as he spelled out one lie or another.
An astronaut. To leave this terrible place behind.
An elementary school teacher. To see what normal kids actually do.
Without Sai, he wouldn't have a future. Without Go, he wouldn't even have worth.
If Sai wanted him to enter professional Go, of course Hikaru would do so. Even if he didn't feel ready for something as prestigious as the insei program, even if the idea of facing people his own age who probably would have been raised with the game, would look at him and see something that didn't belong, terrified him.
Hikaru would do whatever he needed to as long as it appeased Sai.
So please don't tire of me.
"Insei? Tsutsui-san was talking about them," Hikaru acknowledged, pulling up a smile he didn't really feel. Sai's eyes dimmed somewhat but Hikaru didn't see it, trying to conjure up a look that had matched Sai's excited countenance.
"I love playing Go," Hikaru continued on. It wasn't a lie; Go was his escape, his battlefield, the feet he stood on when the rest of his world didn't make sense. It was more than lines on a board with monochrome stones - it was control. Hikaru had never tasted control before, not before he'd placed these little stones on wood and shaped them into what he needed.
Hikaru spoke and it tasted almost like the truth. "To be honest, I haven't thought about my future much." Ogata shifted, Hikaru ignored him. "But I think... I would want to play professional Go. And if entering the insei program is the way into it then I want to at least try."
Hikaru wondered if he should have sounded more assertive, more confident. Perhaps Sai would have appreciated someone that didn't line their goals with doubt. Hopefully he wouldn't think Hikaru was going through this half-assed, wasn't taking it seriously - because Hikaru was taking it seriously. It might very well be one of the most serious decisions in his life because it felt like if he messed up, Sai would leave him in disgust.
It would certainly explain why the two older men were just staring at him like he'd grown a second head, utterly silent. Hikaru almost cracked.
Then Sai placed a gentle hand on his arm, a gesture of comfort that shouldn't have worked as well as it did. The man was smiling again but his eyes were more concerned, scouring his charge's face as if trying to discern something from his answer. Hikaru hoped he'd hidden his terror well because Sai had the unfortunately keen ability of figuring him out.
"...if you're sure, Hikaru," Sai finally said. "I have utmost faith in you. As your mentor and your family, I want you to know that you can never disappoint me."
Hikaru stood hurriedly, face flushing. Sometimes Sai just knew the right things to say and Hikaru was going to cry, he really was-
"Thank you for the meal, I'm gonna take a shower!" Hikaru announced, practically bolting to the bathroom.
When the bathroom door slammed shut with a click, Ogata snorted. Sai, left staring at the path Hikaru had taken, drew back to himself with a soft sigh.
"I was supposed to tell him about my title," Sai said to his friend. And explain it, so he actually knows what it means to be a title-holder. Not that Sai was much invested in it; he hadn't entered professional Go to stake his claim on the top, he'd entered it because being a professional was the best way to meet the the good players.
Ogata chuckled darkly, "Let's explain it once he's done recuperating from your increasingly domestic displays."
A lesser man would have rolled his eyes at Ogata's tone, but Sai was not a lesser man. Instead the Meijin merely took another long sip of his tea, silently agreeing with the suggestion (but not the jab, because Sai was being a perfectly normal guardian).
Ogata's adjusted his glasses, eyes careful behind the lenses. "He took it way too easily and quickly. Doesn't he usually throw around more insults? He was almost...obedient."
"You make Hikaru sound like you," Sai muttered under his breath because even if he was a better man, he was still a man.
"But you're right," Sai agreed after a moment, eyes trailing over to the darkened hallway with a solemn stare. And I wonder why...
Shindou Hikaru was not exactly what Shirakawa had been expecting to waltz into his office on Sunday morning. Against the backdrop of the jittery insei slowly dragging themselves through the door, the boy stood out almost painfully in his fur-lined black coat and colorful hairpins. He waited outside the main office looking surprisingly docile, seated in one of the many plush armchairs to await being called inside.
Shirakawa had received the boy's application beforehand, as well as his games. The three games did not stand out from any other mediocre player Shirakawa had seen and he'd been tempted to just fail the boy, despite the curiosity he'd piqued at being a connection of Ogata's. For all Shirakawa knew, the kid could be some relative or even the kid brother of Ogata's current girlfriend.
However, the notes attached to each game signed by Ogata himself as the witness was a whole different story. Each game had a particular scenario: the first was a blind Go game, the last two were played simultaneously - and Shindou Hikaru had won all three with a wide margin.
He wasn't almost Uchida of the lower tier-level, as Shirakawa had first suspected - but closer to Waya of the upper tier. With nothing in the way of junior tournament credentials, a formal teaching history, or even participation in a school Go club, Shindou Hikaru had developed astonishingly well.
Then there was the last note: he only started learning seven months ago.
If it's true, this kid is a monster, Shirakawa mused, stepping outside his office. The possibility only excited him.
"Shindou Hikaru?" he asked.
Green eyes looked up at him, wide and unassuming. It reminded the insei instructor of Fukui almost fondly - all that innocence, ripe for crushing. It was a wonder the kid could even manage to keep it with the likes of Ogata pandering to him.
"Please come inside," Shirakawa said with a polite smile.
Shindou followed him into the office. He took a seat in one of the two free armchairs across Shirakawa's desk, where the man took his own seat and spread the games over his desk. Hikaru took a moment to appreciate the ambience of the office: it was simple but elegant, the floor a gray marble while all of the furniture was lightly-varnished wood. The desk took over quite a bit of room, enough ample space atop it for the three games to be displayed while the computer hummed at the side, within easy reach of its owner. Two tall filing cabinets stood side-by-side with equally large bookshelves, filled to the brim with books and kifu.
"To be perfectly honest, Shindou-kun, these games aren't at the level worthy of insei," Shirakawa started, motioning over the games. Hikaru wilted a bit but kept silent, now attempting to steel himself for whatever came out of the man's mouth next.
Hikaru should have known. He should have put off Sai's argument over it, should have ignored Ogata's barbed encouragements - there was no way he was ready for anything as prestigious as a fucking masterclass of Go students. He'd been barred from his own school's Go club, so why the hell would something as prestigious as the insei program even bother with him?
Sai would be so disappointed.
Hikaru wanted to throw up.
"At least that's what I thought at first!" Shirakawa announced cheerfully, having watched (and enjoyed) the flicker of turbulent emotions across the child's face. Shindou got extra points in Shirakawa's inner personal rankings for masking over most of his emotional reaction, but he wouldn't be so good at what he did if some childish upstart playing at grown-up could hide from him.
"I have it on good authority that this game was played as blind go, while these two were played simultaneously," Shirakawa motioned over said games. Hikaru stared at him for a long moment as he attempted to catch up with the sudden shift in attitude, but by then Shirakawa had continued on just as exuberantly. "Do you often play such games?"
Hikaru nodded, confusion and apprehension coloring green eyes. "I play them at this Go salon… The guys kind of make me because they got tired of me winning."
Shirakawa didn't look impressed - he looked ecstatic. "And when did you learn to play Go?"
When? "Um, well, I started learning in September last year but I didn't really play an actual game until November," Hikaru recounted. Sai shouldn't count as an actual match since he only ever played (slaughtering) teaching games with Hikaru, so the boy went with his first game against Shanhai. It was the safest bet for an accurate representation.
Shirakawa's smile grew as he pulled the kifu into a neat pile, placing them inside a manila folder. Every pore seemed to be oozing anticipation but Hikaru couldn't figure out why - the gentle look of the man was contrasting sharply with the aura he was putting off. He gave off the impression of someone that should have acted more like Sai but instead exhibited more in common with Ogata, which was perhaps the most terrifying aspect.
"Then congratulations are in order," Shirakawa practically purred, his eyes taking on an intensity that made Hikaru want to shrink back. The gentle smile faded into something more predatory, and if it hadn't been for the distance and obstacles between them, Hikaru would have been reminded of something far more unpleasant than a shark. "Welcome to the insei program, Shindou-kun."
Hikaru stared up at him, blank with shock. "W-Wait, that's it? I'm just- in?"
Shirakawa chuckled, condescending in a way that would have infuriated the boy had he not been so busy reeling. "Your current level according to your application games are more than enough to enter Class B of the program and you should even be a strong contender to enter Class A within the month if your rate of progress stays the same. Not to mention you are sponsored by Ogata ninth-dan, which is about as rare as getting that bitter stodge to admit to his insecurities."
Did Shirakawa just slip in an insult of the bespectacled man?
"You know Ogata-san?" Hikaru asked, fixating on something other than his apparently adequate Go skills.
Shirakawa nodded, pulling out another slip of paper the boy recognized as his initial application form. "Quite well, actually," the man replied lightly. "He's the one who originally approached me about side-stepping the mandatory meeting between myself and your guardian, and even filed most of your application under the false name of 'Shindou'. Which is why I had your school records pulled."
"What!" Hikaru cried, eyes wide. People could do that?
Shirakawa laughed lightly as if he wasn't guilty of committing a minor crime. "The insei program requires the name of the student's school and schools are always happy to provide us with the information necessary upon request," he continued. "It seems your official name change was rather recent and the secretary was so helpful in updating me on it and on the status of your new guardian."
Hikaru remained quiet. Now he was aware - Shirakawa was a dangerous man. Not in the same way as someone like Yamaguchi had been dangerous; this man was more secure in his own power, more aware of his limits and able to act accordingly within his role. Nothing was more dangerous than a person that could actually think.
"Fujiwara Hikaru," Shirakawa sounded out carefully. "There's only one Fujiwara I know of that Ogata-sensei would go to great lengths for and you aren't the one I'm thinking of."
Hikaru looked away, green eyes fixing on the application form. The official stamp of the 'Fujiwara' name stared back at him in vibrant red ink, a splash of accusatory color against the paper.
"Fujiwara Sai is your legal guardian," Shirakawa mused aloud. "It's so interesting that someone like Fujiwara Meijin adopted you."
Hikaru grit his teeth, petulant with self-imposed guilt and shame. He knew he wasn't worthy of the Fujiwara name, wasn't worthy of that strong connection to someone like Sai - but hearing that confirmed by the man before him left a bitter taste in his mouth.
"I know that," Hikaru muttered, self-deprecation lining every word.
Shirakawa evaluated him behind his glasses. Such a talented child - and he couldn't even accurately gauge his own worth? Something would have to be done about that and Shirakawa knew his program would be able to address such a glaring flaw.
Seems there's trouble on the horizon for you, Seiji, Shirakawa thought with no small amount of venomous amusement.
"No, I don't think you do," Shirakawa said softly. He pushed a newly-minted ID card forward on the desk, the colored photo of Hikaru's face smiling up at the air emptily. "But there's nothing that can't be taught with enough time and exposure."
"Shirakawa-sensei seems...happy today, doesn't he?" Fukui noted aloud, quiet enough to only be heard by those in his immediate vicinity. As one, the small group of Class A insei glanced over in their instructor's direction before resolutely looking anywhere but at him when he caught their gaze and smiled at them broadly.
A happy Shirakawa is never good, Waya thought rather spitefully. It was a justified response; the last time Shirakawa had looked as cheerful, he'd been crushing Maeda's will to compete in the ranking matches.
Nase shrugged, looking only slightly perturbed. She was likely just used to it by now, as their little group were a favorite target of the instructor. It was probably all Waya's fault, as he was the one who got in on Morishita ninth-dan's sponsoring and had cemented himself as one of the strongest insei. He also had an aggressive personality that only seemed to make taunting him all the more enjoyable for the seventh-dan teacher.
"There's supposed to be a new student in Class B," she explained. "I heard he already beat Imanishi."
That explained that - Imanishi was supposed to be the closest member of Class B to enter Class A. Waya had fully been expecting him any day now, but to be beaten by someone that had just entered…
"Think the new guy is any good?" Honda asked, sucking on the straw to his juice packet. Fukui and Waya were eyeing him uneasily; Shirakawa was notorious for absolutely hating any stains in his immaculate practice rooms. Food and drink were restricted, so how exactly had Honda managed to get in with that?
"He is."
Nase nearly jumped, eliciting an amused smile from the newly-arrived Isumi. Waya and Fukui garbled out a couple greetings in turn, having seen the older boy approaching.
"You've played him?" Waya asked.
Isumi shook his head, "Imanishi was studying the game earlier. He was happy to explain it to me." He paused, thinking back as he mentally recounted the on-board massacre. "I think the new guy will be joining Class A soon, too. He's only been in the program for three weeks but it's obvious he was meant for Class A from the start."
There was a general pause in consideration, before once again as one, they glanced back over at the insei instructor with shrewd looks. Shirakawa looked up from one of the ongoing games, catching their eyes and smiling at them with a guileless look about his eyes.
He definitely already knew that! was the horrified consensus. While it was true every insei had to start from Class D, classes could be easily skipped provided an insei won three out of three games played with the top rank members of each class, and also the lowest ranked member of the next class up. Waya had gone such a route and even Isumi had managed to make it to the top of the insei tier through such a method.
Unless, of course, Shirakawa had ulterior motives in forcing the new insei into playing far more matches…
"Come to think of it, didn't Moriyama talk back to Shirakawa-sensei last month?" Honda asked quietly.
Fukui looked decidedly pale, "Shirakawa-sensei...how petty-!"
"Are you kidding me? The guy's a power-hungry psychopath - he has to insure his dominance over us somehow."
This time it was Honda who squeaked out in surprise, nearly bumping into an equally-surprised Waya in the process. The one who had spoken was younger than Waya, wearing black jeans and a nondescript white shirt, partially hidden under a forest green cashmere sweater. Blond bangs stuck out from underneath a tan beanie, the rest of his naturally black hair left to sweep lightly above his shoulders.
Blond bangs… Isumi recognized the description of Imanishi's opponent. A junior high freshman with an easygoing attitude, uncharacteristically feminine in predisposition but frighteningly intense when seated at the goban. "You're the new insei, aren't you?" he asked politely.
The younger boy nodded with a teasing smile, "The name's Fujiwara Hikaru."
"Any connection to the Meijin?" Nase teased, regaining her good humor.
Hikaru's sudden tensing went unnoticed, as quick and subtle as it had been. "No," he lied blithely. He wasn't quite ready to admit to that relation yet, especially after both Ogata and Shirakawa had cautioned him about the expectations he would meet should he do so.
"So this is Class A?" Hikaru mused, glancing the room over. It looked the same as both Class B and C, Class D being the exception given that it housed a total of 46 students while the top three Classes held only 12 each. There was more room to maneuver and apparently Class A got more of Shirakawa's undivided attention, as the lower classes were mostly left to his assistants. Not that anyone personally wanted Shirakawa's undivided attention, but then again, the man was good at what he did.
"It's not anything grand," Waya allowed before motioning to the older boy next to him. "But apparently Isumi thinks you'll be suffering in it with us soon enough."
Hikaru looked between them, smile resuming on his face. "If by 'soon enough' you mean 'today'. I just beat Maeda-senpai yesterday." Four times, he added mentally. There was no need to brag about it - Shirakawa had looked smug enough for the both of them.
The small group broke out into a general murmur of surprise, but looked rather pleased. Hikaru filed that away internally. While it was true he hadn't been pleased by Maeda's less-than-gracious attitude, he hadn't expected the older boy to be regarded as anything but normal by those in the upper tier of the insei institute. Clearly, though, Maeda wasn't thought of fondly by his new classmates.
"So what's the deal with you and Shirakawa-sensei?" Honda asked.
Hikaru shrugged, unruffled. "We have a mutual acquaintance, but I'm pretty sure there's some history there that I'm not supposed to go into."
"So he's taking it out on you by making you go the long route?" Waya guessed, mildly disgusted.
Hikaru snorted, "No, he's just making sure everyone remembers he's a fucking sadist with a penchant for abuses of power."
"I don't really think so," Nase began, sounding innocent - which was all the warning they got as she continued on just as meekly. "And he's been standing behind you for awhile now, guys."
Hikaru, Waya, and Honda paled drastically. They turned around, catching the full force of Shirakawa's acidic smile.
"Shouldn't you be studying?" the man asked, deadly spikes edged along every word. It was easy to think of his teeth as the sharpened points that lined the jaws of a Great White Shark.
Waya and Hikaru, equally terrified, snapped back an alarmed "I am studying!" and the group dispersed like cats under a firehose. Isumi had managed to get across the classroom in a split second, acting as if he'd been studying kifu the entire time without a single facial twitch. Honda and Fukui had claimed the nearest goban and were actively starting a game of speed Go, Nase looking over them with theatricalized clinical interest.
Shirakawa cocked his head, amused. The kids were a noisy, bratty bunch - but at least the young fools knew their place in this system. He chuckled a bit under his breath and ignored the alarmed look several students threw him as he passed by.
Taken from a general perspective, Ogata could see that life was going quite well for him now. He had a stable career and a promising future, his social relationships were almost healthy compared to others, and now he even had a very firm foothold in a deepening relationship with the person he was most interested in. It was now easier than ever to make himself a permanent fixture in Sai's life, given the way he was at the man's apartment almost every day thanks to Hikaru's fondness (vital dependence) on his homecooked meals.
That didn't mean his life was necessarily easy, as it was so keen to remind him - namely in the form of Touya Akira standing by his apartment door with a pensive look on his young face that could only promise trouble.
"Akira-kun?" Ogata greeted dubiously, wondering why the boy had sought out his company. Not that they didn't get along - it was hard not to since Akira didn't have many friends to begin with - but the boy rarely came over to Ogata's apartment. It had only happened twice, when Touya Meijin and his wife had gone on international trips for a week at a time and left the young boy in Ogata's care.
Akira bowed politely in greeting, but his facial expression was practically screaming trouble. Ogata let him into his apartment, shutting the door behind them with a frown twisting his lips. He didn't know much about the boy's school but he sincerely hoped that the rumors of bullying weren't true. While Ogata may not like kids as a whole, the ones he did favor earned his general protection.
Akira took off his shoes, stepped out of the entrance, and then abruptly turned to address Ogata. "You knew about him," he said stiffly, an undercurrent of accusation lining that polite tone.
Ogata stared at him. "...excuse me?"
"Fujiwara-sensei's student," Akira grit out, sounding almost physically pained. "Hikaru. You knew Fujiwara-sensei was mentoring someone and you didn't tell Father?" Me? was the silent but audible continuation.
Ogata stopped for a moment, staring at the boy. Then he snorted dismissively, pulling off his own shoes and stepping past the kid. All of that worry - just for this? If he had known Akira was getting all worked up just because Sai had taught another kid to hold Go stones properly, Ogata would have smacked him.
"So you did meet him," Ogata mused aloud. And they must have played because no one would have told him about the brat's connection to Sai.
"We played a game," Akira stated coolly, in contrast to the fire in his eyes. Ogata had to admit he was amused; this was the most animate he had ever seen Touya's son. He wondered which part of this 'conspiracy' had enraged him: that Sai had taken on a student the same age as Akira or that no one had told him about it.
"He's not at your level yet," Ogata pointed out warily. Hopefully getting crushed by Touya Akira didn't undo all the hard work Sai had put into Hikaru. Dealing with delicate egos was just as tricky as dealing with over-inflated ones.
Akira shook his head, softening. "He's not - but he'll get there. He's… He improves so-" Akira cut off, looking frustrated. He did not want to embellish but at the same time, he did not want to sell Hikaru short.
Ogata smirked, nodding. "He'll put up a decent fight someday," he agreed.
Akira's eyes flashed, "We're rivals."
Ogata almost choked on air. He gaped unseemly at the boy for a long moment, but Akira strode past him and to the kitchen as if he owned the place. (He was probably just too comfortable in Ogata's apartment, the ninth-dan knew he should never have agreed to babysit from time to time.) Ogata recovered from the undignified expression, looking at the door in open contemplation.
This was what he got for coming home. He clearly should have just stayed over at Sai's apartment again. Anything was better than being confronted by Akira the Possessed. Akiko would kill both him and Kouyo for instilling such ideas as 'eternal rivals' into the boy. Ogata had only meant it as a self-deprecating joke, unwilling to elaborate on why he was just so interested in Sai to then nine-year-old Akira. This was a higher power's retribution, he was sure of it.
The buzzer rang and Ogata opened his door hollowly, mind racing to come up with excuses that would prove his innocence to Akira's overprotective mother.
"My, I expected a better greeting than that," Shirakawa said, eyes raking over Ogata's blank expression, tone falsely depressed.
Ogata shut the door in his face.
"Seiji," Shirakawa began calmly through the door. "If you don't let me in, I'm going to stand out here all night long and loudly explain your sexual misadventures to your neighbors."
Why did I even come home, Ogata regretted. I should have just bought clothes from the nearest store and stayed at Sai's place.
He opened the door reluctantly, stepping aside to let his cheerful former one-night-stand through. Shirakawa thanked him politely and handed him a box of manjuu before heading over to the couch, sinking down onto it appreciatively.
"Oh, Shirakawa-sensei," Akira greeted delicately, popping out from the kitchen. "How are you doing? Would you like some tea?"
"I never said you could give him my tea," Ogata sniped.
Shirakawa recovered from his surprise at the sight of the boy quickly, giving Akira a bright smile. "Thank you, Touya-kun, that would be lovely," he acquiesced.
"Morishita would be so disappointed that you're fraternizing with the enemy," Ogata pointed out bitterly as Akira vanished back into the kitchen.
Shirakawa chuckled, "Morishita-sensei is disappointed in me for very different reasons. And besides, he has yet to stop Saeki's open 'fraternization' with your Ashiwara."
Ogata snorted, "But that's Ashiwara." Surely everyone knew better than to get between Ashiwara and his attempts at befriending anything that breathed in his general direction. Even Ogata had given up on shaking off the younger man, and Saeki would give in soon enough.
Shirakawa hummed noncommittally, fingers tapping a light rhythm on the armrest. "Yes, I suppose you're right. For once in you miserable life."
Ogata thought back to his first meeting with Shirakawa. The man had been polite, docile even - never said a contrary word and kept a general aura of gentle neutrality about him. They'd been in rival (according to Morishita) study groups but there was some kind of weird pull between the two groups that had their members constantly interacting. Shirakawa was about the same rank as Ogata at the time and seemed to enjoy Go as much as the current ninth-dan did, so their acquaintance wasn't odd.
At least, not until they'd gone out to dinner after one game and both had drank a little too much. Not enough that they weren't conscious of their choices but enough that inhibitions had been lowered enough to even propose such an interaction. So when Ogata woke up to a naked Shirakawa casually devouring his last bagel, he didn't think much of it until the next weekend when the man had angrily busted out his window after catching sight of the purple heels in his entrance.
While that had ended any carnal activities between them - Ogata didn't need to add any more colorful exes to his history - it hadn't destroyed their mutual need to use the other. To Ogata, Shirakawa was a contact that had ingrained himself into the insei system and could manipulate it as needed; to Shirakawa, Ogata was a rising power and a close relation to the former Meijin.
It was almost friendship, in the most horrible way.
"Fujiwara Hikaru is interesting," Shirakawa began casually. Ogata hated the way the man teased out Hikaru's name; it was meant to goad Ogata in some respect, as if Shirakawa was flaunting his self-discovered knowledge. "He's in Class A now and is rather sociable. He tends to disappear quickly after class ends, though - he always declines Waya's invitations to dinner."
Ogata understood that. Hikaru was likely holding himself an arm's length away, fully-conscious of his own actions. It was better to hide his lack of respect for personal boundaries with less contact, and at least the insei class put a board between Hikaru and others. Outside of class, Hikaru would have to constantly watch himself - and obviously wasn't sure he could.
"Hikaru?" Akira echoed, emerging from the kitchen with a tea tray. Ogata eyed him with a dry look. Too comfortable here, the ninth-dan decided.
Akira turned accusing eyes back onto Ogata. "He knows about Hikaru?" the boy demanded, sounding nearly betrayed. Ogata almost understood - Shirakawa was a known member of Morishita's study group and Ogata had seemingly told the man such (vital?) information about Hikaru's existence while neglecting to inform Touya Kouyo - Sai's actual rival and Ogata's own teacher. If the cause of Akira's distress wasn't so ridiculous, Ogata would feel more offended by the lack of faith.
"Drop the tone," Ogata ordered briskly. "He's in the insei program now so of course Shirakawa knows him."
Shirakawa looked far too interested in the reaction. "You know Fujiwara Hikaru as well, Touya-kun? And here I thought Seiji was trying to keep secrets…"
Ogata sighed. Akira, in the middle of placing the tray onto the coffee table, dropped it - fortunately it was close enough that the tea only sloshed over the edge - as he processed the statement and then turned disbelieving eyes on both men.
"Fujiwara?" he repeated.
Both men stared at him, confused.
"Fujiwara Hikaru," Shirakawa repeated, sounding like he was talking to someone with a screw loose. (Then again, Go players…) "Fujiwara Meijin's adopted son."
Ogata glared over at him, "Did you pull those records too, you asshole?"
Shirakawa's response - probably something equally caustic and smug - was stopped by the sheer cathartic expression blooming across Akira's face. Ogata was openly staring at the kid, trying to connect the dots. If this was surprising, then….
"You didn't know?" Ogata managed out weakly.
"Kishimoto-senpai only introduced him by his given name," Akira explained, struggling to regain a more solemn expression. It was filtering down into disturbingly intensive instead. Shirakawa leaned forward to grab a teacup, looking slightly uncomfortable. "So he's Fujiwara-sensei's…? They must play very frequently."
Shirakawa was giving him a look over the rim of his tea, Ogata could just see it out of the corner of his eye. The tone Akira had used in that last sentence didn't sound envious, which would have been the normal response - no, instead it had sounded overjoyed. Ogata could reason out why easily enough: the more Hikaru played and learned from Sai, the better he would become. He would become someone that actually could prop up a decent rivalry with Akira.
If Ogata had known Akira was this desperate for rivals, he would have had Shirakawa brainwash the entire next generation so that Akira would be sick and tired of anyone claiming such a role.
Ogata should try and put a stop to it. He wasn't sure how Akira's (one-sided?) rivalry with Sai's precious charge would be taken by the Meijin title-holder. If the man's apparent squashing of rumors in Heart of Stone and former interactions with anyone deemed harmful to the boy were any indication, it wouldn't be a kind one.
"He's risen to Class A within just one month," Shirakawa said aloud, clearly having decided his stance on the matter: full encouragement. The bastard actually looked amused. "He's quite a fighter on the goban. He'll be on our top insei's level in no time."
Akira smiled - and it was frightening. "Perhaps I won't play him until he's become a pro. I want to see his rate of improvement first-hand," he mused.
"That's an excellent idea!" Shirakawa agreed brightly.
Ogata really should stop him.
Akira took a seat on the armchair, picking up his own teacup and taking a sip. He cut a picture of elegance and grace. Shirakawa laughed quietly into his own teacup, the smile on his face warm and soothing.
Ogata stood and headed to the kitchen, aching for something stronger than the beer he was heading for. Sai was on his own in dealing with Touya Akira - there was no way Ogata was getting in between Akira and his claimed rival.
….Both Akiko and Sai were going to kill him.
Escaping the insei school was becoming harder and harder every day he went there. It wasn't that Hikaru hated it there - in contrast, he fell more in love with Go with every session. And the insei program was fun and exciting: he learned, he grew, he worked on techniques and studied with those that were deemed talented in the game.
And the other insei weren't at all what he'd expected. Sure, he'd run into a few here and there that had fit the general stereotype of sticks-in-the-mud, varying from smug to jittery depending on their rank and skill. He'd been prepared to bite down on his more vitriolic comments and just get by, keeping his attention more on the games than his actual opponent.
But then Waya would clap a friendly hand on his shoulder, fatigue-patterned pants tucked into black boots that easily kept pace with him. "It's too late for cram school, isn't it? We should get dinner together," the boy suggested. It was the third time this week. It was only Wednesday.
Waya was someone Hikaru was reasonably sure he would have easily gotten along with. The older boy was casual, not high-strung enough to be obsessed with the difference in their age and laid-back. He didn't dress as stuffy as most of the insei students, which Hikaru was thankful for because then people didn't eye him so strangely. Even after he'd forcibly toned down his usual wardrobe choices to better fit the image of the ideal student for Sai, he still dressed too- flamboyantly? nicely? for the usual insei.
Hikaru was just about to decline, as always, but then Isumi came up on his other side with an friendly smile. "That sounds like a good idea. I wanted to talk about your recent game with Fuku anyway, Fujiwara."
Isumi reminded Hikaru of Sai, with his unassuming attitude and kind words. He was less comfortable in front of the goban, however, as if every move he placed would be found foolish. It was a pity because he was one of the best opponents Hikaru had faced recently, but if Hikaru paused too long it was as if Isumi would start to crumble - purely from the inside.
"Oh, are we getting dinner?" Nase interjected pleasantly, wide smile on her lips. "Just not sushi again please, I think we've been making Waya too happy lately."
Fukui chuckled at her shoulder, "And we can't have that, can we?"
Hikaru didn't mind playing more games with Nase because girls were safe. He didn't act strangely around them, unless people found his disinterest in them strange - but it seems they'd most applied that to a stage in puberty rather than actual disinterest. Since he usually requested to play Nase during Class A games, some of his peers would mutter about unrequited crushes - but mercifully, Nase didn't seem to believe them and never brought it up.
Fukui was younger, which was another safe bet. He specialized in speed Go, which had initially thrown Hikaru off and he'd lost his first few games against the younger boy. A combination of Fukui's encouraging attitude and Shirakawa-sensei constantly breathing down their necks had forced Hikaru over that losing streak, so he won the majority of his games over the boy now.
Waya hissed "Traitor!" at the younger boy playfully just as Honda finally emerged from the doorway, uttering a short apology for taking so long.
Hikaru generally held Honda at arm's length, much like he did with Isumi and Waya. He was a lot more caustic than the other two boys, equal parts sarcastic and playful. It wasn't anything like Tomorou's attitude, as Honda generally meant well and wouldn't hurt a fly - but it was enough to remind Hikaru of the violent Gate worker and knot a ball of mild distress in his stomach whenever he had to interact with Honda outside of the goban.
Waya shrugged, then threw a friendly arm around Hikaru's shoulders. "We're actually just going to eat dinner. Fujiwara is joining us today."
"But I-" Hikaru started again, vastly uncomfortable with the close contact.
"We're not having sushi again, right?" Honda demanded testily.
"What's with you guys and your hatred for sushi? Are you even Japanese?" Waya demanded hotly, breaking his hold on Hikaru to enter an animate argument with the others. Hikaru was left staring at the bickering group with wide eyes, torn between fleeing or just waiting around to watch.
The group were surprisingly sociable and always seemed to want to involve Hikaru. The boy didn't know why - they seemed to get along with most everyone in their class and even a few insei outside of the top class. Hikaru could understand if they wanted to discuss games with him, as even he enjoyed some of their dissections of gameplay and the like, but it seemed like they also wanted to establish contact outside of class.
Hikaru understood himself to a certain degree. He knew some of casual reactions were strange, as he'd caught a few of the startled and befuddled looks that occasionally eclipsed Kishimoto's face whenever Hikaru responded. To elicit that same response from one of the insei, who would likely enter the Go pro world of which Hikaru was aiming... It wouldn't do to give such a weird impression.
Then again, he also wondered if he was just coming off as some haughty asshole for never agreeing to go with them.
"Sorry for dragging you out like this."
Hikaru started, turning surprised green eyes onto Isumi's smiling face. The older boy certainly didn't sound apologetic, but he wasn't being mean either - he just seemed rather fondly exasperated.
"Don't stress out too much, Fujiwara," Isumi suggested, smile teasing as he lightly poked Hikaru's forehead. The younger boy squinted up at him, irritation tugging a frown onto his lips at the boy's blatant tone. Hikaru almost wanted to snap out something about Isumi being a hypocrite for telling him to not stress but that seemed too petty.
Isumi chuckled, indicating over to the still-quarreling quartet a few steps away. "They're nothing to get worked up over. A few quirks aren't going to upset them."
Hikaru blinked, taken-aback. "How-?"
Isumi grinned, "A little birdie that likes black coffee told me."
Kishimoto? Hikaru idenitifed, a cold feeling of horror sweeping down his spine. Just how much had Kishimoto caught on? Hikaru could vividly remember getting far too handsy with the older boy, but at least then Kawakami or Tsutsui were there to be a distraction. Hikaru hadn't thought much of it at the time, as Kishimoto never showed much of a reaction beyond a puzzled look before getting equally caught up in any number of arguments.
But to be called quirky by that weird Go club captain - it kind of stung at Hikaru's ego, even if it was wholly true.
"Waya's pretty touchy-feely too," Isumi added blithely, earning a hard-eyed look from said boy for the utterance of his name. Waya glowered a bit at Isumi's innocent look, wondering if the older boy was gossiping about him to the newest insei, but he was quickly pulled back into the argument over their dinner destination once Honda piped up with an authoritative "Thai food!"
Hikaru grimaced lightly. I'm sure his is a much more wholesome brand than mine, Isumi-san.
Isumi clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. (Apparently Waya wasn't the only one free with physical contact.) "The point is, there's no need to act so restrained with us, Fujiwara. We're all about the same age anyway."
Hikaru blinked in shock, rubbing lightly at his abused shoulder - that was twice already in just ten minutes! - but with a look of consideration on his face. He'd never considered it before - the idea of them being "just kids." With his classmates, they were background, sometimes unpleasnt or just peripheral, much in the same way they would view him. He didn't devote much thought to interaction with them and when grouped up for classwork, he always did his fair share while contributing as little as possible in discussion.
With the Gate, they weren't "children" but "commodities." There was no difference between Hikaru and the high school-aged girl, between Rizumu and the eight-year-old boy who had no tongue to speak with. They were items in a range of conditions with various purposes.
The insei were "kids" as well (or at least according to a disdainful Ogata). That meant they were not "clients" - but they also weren't "commodites" or just background. They wanted to interact with Hikaru on a social level for no reason other than that he was Hikaru. They could not hurt him because they were kids. They could not help him because of that very reason.
They were just...kids.
Seeing Honda's face turn red with how vehemently he was explaining the beauty of Thai curry, Hikaru wondered if Rizumu had ever liked something enough to argue in its favor. With Nase giggling behind her hand as she occasionally egged on a more virulent response from either Waya or Fukui, Hikaru thought about Chikara and how he only ever seemed to smile at the darkest aspects the Gate had offered.
We're children, too, Hikaru thought suddenly. It was a painful claim and one he didn't even fully believe - but it was enough of a push to make him truly think about it. Rizumu, Chikara, Shanhai, Aian, Mimi - they were kids too. They didn't want to be in the Gate, they just had no way out. They didn't even have enough hope left to look for one.
Hikaru had that now. He didn't know how to save them yet, but just half a year ago he'd been rotting away in a hotel room bed for money. Now he had Sai, a skill that was developing enough to earn him a place among the most promising, and even a career path.
It wouldn't be immediate but there was definitely a way to help his friends out. Hikaru would find it. If Sai could beat Masaki, then what else could possibly get in the way?
Hikaru took in a deep breath. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Rizumu's soft voicing humming along to the beat of the music he'd bought him. Hikaru blew out.
"Let's have shabu-shabu!" Hikaru suggested brightly, latching on to Waya's arm and practically dragging the taller boy forward to the train station. The others stared after him before quickly falling into step, one thought uniting them in a quiet moment of collectivity:
Isn't it getting too hot for shabu-shabu...?
"You're not going to the Go salon today?" Tsutsui asked.
It was a fair question. Hikaru had to give up his Sundays to the insei school nowadays, as well as a few of his weekday afternoons. Only on Fridays and Saturdays were insei classes closed - Hikaru spitefully wondered if that had more to do with Shirakawa-sensei trying to recover from his hangovers than anything else - but even then he'd established fairly frequent contact with the other insei now. Waya and Nase were always inviting him to meet up outside of class, trying to engage him more along the lines of friendship.
Hikaru shook his head, giving the older boy an apologetic look. While Tsutsui had only ever been encouraging and understanding when it came to Hikaru entering the insei program, the blond-banged boy couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for not seeing the former Go club captain as much as possible.
"I have to go to the supermarket to get some things for dinner," Hikaru explained sheepishly. Ogata had told him that morning that he wouldn't be there for dinner tonight, having gotten tied up in a study group later in the evening and unsure when he'd be let off. He'd written down a relatively simple meal plan for Hikaru to follow, citing the ingredients missing and giving the boy the required cash to get them.
Hikaru knew that, technically, he could just order takeout - but something about the idea of Ogata teaching him his family recipes meant Hikaru felt inclined to honoring them.
Tsutsui shrugged, easy-going smile on. "Well, I'm sure Fujiwara-san will be happy to eat dinner with you then."
Hikaru flushed, turning a light shade of pink and glaring at the older boy when he couldn't choke back a laugh. Stammering out a goodbye, he headed off in the usual direction of Sai's place. While it was a longer travel distance than his mother's apartment, it was definitely worth it.
Ogata had sent him a simple recipe for baked fish, miso soup, and mixed vegetables. He was missing the okra and the fish, but they still had some tofu left over from the night previous and Hikaru was confident that he could use the stove far better than his guardian.
I can practically already see Sai crying tears of joy over it, Hikaru mused lightly. Ogata's manhandling of him into cooking was working out very well for him: with the added skill of cooking, Hikaru was improving as a charge and then surely Sai wouldn't get tired of him as quickly?
He'd even mostly reined in his attitude by now. He kept his jabs at Ogata and his painfully-obvious crush on Sai to almost nonexistent, he didn't pick on Sai as much when the man devolved into emotional tears at the slightest sign of Hikaru's improvement, and he'd even been very well-behaved at both school and Heart of Stone.
Sure, Kishimoto and Tsutsui had seemed kind of freaked out that he wasn't as insulting as usual, and Ogata never stopped giving him these calculating looks that reminded Hikaru eerily of the way Shirakawa-sensei would look over his games, and sometimes even Sai would stop and stare at him for a long moment before saying something that was equal parts comforting and concerned.
How terrible had he been, if not insulting them was a drastic change in his behavior? No wonder my classmates never talked to me, Hikaru thought.
A hand dropped onto his shoulder. "Hey, Hi-ka-ru-kun~!"
The voice was familiar, as was the pungent smell of tobacco. Hikaru half-turned, giving an inquisitive stare to the man that had stopped him. Kawai was smiling down at him, although the expression looked more feral than it normally would have on anyone else's face. Hikaru didn't know very much about Kawai, except that he was a professional acquaintance of Kawakami-san's and that he played a decent Go game.
"You're free now, right? There's someone I want to introduce to you," Kawai continued. Hikaru's panicked expression snapped into place, but by that time Kawai was pushing him forward and-
Into a cake shop?
An empty cake shop. The apparent owner was hovering behind the counter, looking worried but resigned as she watched their procession from the doorway. The counter normally filled with an assortment of pastries and cakes was empty, however, along with nearly every table and chair.
The lone exception was the man seated near at center table. The table, clearly meant for six people, was filled with every cake and pastry imaginable, creating a rather colorful picture against the worn wood and in contrast to the austere look of the man himself. He sat straight-backed but casually elegant, one hand loosely clasping a hot cup of some kind of herbal tea. His hair was mostly dark but there was a slight tinge of gray at his temples, making him look more handsome in an aged way rather than just old.
It was his eyes though, that caught Hikaru - a vibrant shade of violet.
Kawai maneuvered Hikaru into the seat directly on the left, before with a gentle pat to Hikaru's head, he abruptly left. Hikaru was looking from Kawai's departing back, to the stranger, to the cakes littered about the table, then back to the stranger.
He wasn't familiar, not in the least.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Hikaru-kun," the man greeted pleasantly. "I am Fujiwara Mitsuo - Sai's father. And, as it now seems, your grandfather."
A block of ice dropped into Hikaru's stomach. He hadn't even realized Sai had parents that were alive; the man never spoke of family and Hikaru had never asked. Perhaps he should have - was it rude not to? It was probably stupid not to, given that Sai had adopted him.
His gaping face must look quite idiotic right now.
The man only continued smiling, waving a hand to get the shopowner's attention. She scurried over warily, giving Hikaru a tentative smile that was half her job and half worry.
"What would you like to drink, Hikaru?" Mitsuo asked, only looking mildly curious. "The passion fruit yogurt drink is really good here."
"Th-That sounds good," Hikaru agreed hollowly.
He seemed to come back to himself as the lady took off to make it. "It's nice to meet you too!" Hikaru choked out, hoping against hope that it sounded even moderately happy. He couldn't get a proper read since Mitsuo's expression didn't even waver from its ever-present smile. It was both like and unlike Sai's - whereas smiles and tears came in easy measure to the Meijin, the smile that fell on Mitsuo's lips didn't hold even a sliver of that same sincerity.
It didn't look fake either, which made Mitsuo dangerous. He was clearly used to hiding his emotions under a proper visage, and if he was that skilled, Hikaru wouldn't be able to gauge how well their interaction was going.
Hikaru couldn't even react well with his peers, and now he had to put up a proper act for Sai's father? If he messed up here, who knew how long Sai would put up with him afterwards? Family, after all, seemed to be everything to Sai; he certainly put enough effort into trying to bring Hikaru into the fold.
"Pick any cake you like, I bought them all for you," Mitsuo said with a generous wave. It wasn't bragging, as the late Yamaguchi had favored; it was merely a statement of fact, as normal as if he'd merely bought him a cup of coffee rather than the entire stock.
Hikaru went slack-jawed for a moment. It was probably too much to hope that the store was just...unusually, freakishly empty on a Friday afternoon after school had ended. Hikaru had had some idea that Sai came from wealth - it was hard to miss those mannerisms of his - but that he could buy out a cake shop for the afternoon…
"Thank you so much!" Hikaru gushed, bright smile on full force. He rocked forward in his seat, an excited child about to enjoy some sweets. He picked the almond mont blanc that was closest to his plate, pulling it towards him just as the shopowner returned with his drink. He accepted it with a cheerful exclamation of gratitude, ignoring the way she seemingly flinched at his sudden shift into an exuberant attitude.
In some ways, it was just so much easier to be Itsuka.
Mitsuo didn't say anything, elbows on the table as he rested his chin atop his clasped hands and merely watched the boy eat. It was not the look of one of those men who were envisioning the later hours of the night, but it was the look of a predator - someone able and willing to exploit weaknesses.
"I understand you're enrolled in the insei program now?" Mitsuo started conversationally. He pulled one of the multicolored puddings to himself, taking up a dainty spoon and completely surprising Hikaru by the strange pick. Then again, Sai did seem to have an obsessive love of the colored, fizzy sodas... Perhaps he'd picked up that sweet tooth from his father.
Hikaru nodded, finishing his bite of mont blanc before answering. "Sai taught me how to play," he explained. Keep the cheer, don't stop smiling, he reminded himself viciously. "He's really good at it- well, of course you know- um, yeah. So I'm in Class A now."
He was used to re-routing conversations back to his clients, but by then he'd usually have asked them all the pertinent questions before and could circumvent conversations to avoid answering personal inquiries.
Here, Fujiwara Mitsuo was in absolute command. Hikaru knew absolutely nothing about him, and the only lead Hikaru had was Sai - but bringing up the Meijin would seem insulting. Mitsuo would of course know everything about his son, and Hikaru even unintentionally insinuating he didn't could be taken in the worst way.
"Class A!" Mitsuo echoed, sounding ecstatic. It should have sounded mocking since it certainly didn't sound sincere - but he just seemed so pleased. "Congratulations on such rapid improvement, then. Sai is certainly very good but you should take some credit as well, Hikaru. Even he can't foster someone so well if there wasn't already such innate talent."
...Well. That actually just sounded like a blunt compliment.
"Ah~ The pudding is really good here, too," Mitsuo sighed, smiling brightly. "It's so heavenly... Just the right amount of firmness, chilled to perfection-!"
Hikaru's cheerful expression faltered into just blatant staring. Sai's father was...mooning over his pudding?
The signals were too contrasting. The setup was too manipulative, the mark of a professional. It was something expected of the likes of Tomorou or Masaki. But the smile, the easy familiarity - that was a common marker of Sai. And the latter was the one Mitsuo shared blood with, was the one he raised.
That's right, this man had raised Sai, hadn't he? Sai was not deceitful or frightening; he was soft and gentle, always ready to help and ask for nothing in return. Surely the one who had raised such a person had to be better than the likes of the Gate workers.
His phone began to trill with the soft sound of his gagaku ringtone. He didn't even have to look at the caller ID to know: Sai.
"Is that Sai?" Mitsuo asked, breaking away from his pudding-induced euphoria.
Hikaru nodded, pulling out his cellphone and praying that answering it didn't seem rude. He certainly couldn't ignore it, since that would possibly send the Meijin into hysterics. Hikaru didn't think either of them wanted that, especially since then Sai would call Ogata and hell hath no fury like an overprotective Ogata.
"May I?" Mitsuo requested, holding out his hand for the cellphone. Hikaru handed it to him after a moment of hesitation. He couldn't really come up with any reasons as to why Mitsuo shouldn't speak to his son, after all.
Mitsuo answered, pleasant as always. "Hello, Sai."
Hikaru was close enough to hear the general buzz of the other end, or more specifically - the lack of noise. Clearly Sai had not been expecting that. Hikaru couldn't make out the words of what Sai said next, but he could barely discern the tone - frigid. Perhaps he thought Hikaru was taking up customers again.
"Of course it's your father, Sai. Really now, this is because you don't call me enough that you can't recognize my voice on the phone."
A pause, another beat of silence, and then - a slightly louder, more irate voice responding.
"Hm? Hikaru and I are having a nice chat over some cakes, grandfather to grandson. You're welcome to join us, of course - it can be a family treat!" Mitsuo offered brightly.
Sai certainly didn't sound happy whne he was replying.
"We're at that little cake shop you love. 'Let's Time', it's called. Quite a nice place, you've always had such good tastes when it came to-"
Mitsuo blinked, then pulled away to look at the phone. "Oh," he was smiling at the cell now. "He hung up on me."
Hikaru had completely lost control of his mask at this point. He couldn't even begin to ask questions now. Sai didn't get along with his father? ...Did Mitsuo actually love his son, or was he more like Hikaru's mother had been? It would certainly explain why Sai now spent his free time picking up at-risk children from the streets.
Or maybe the Fujiwara clan was never to be understood.
Hikaru busied himself with his yogurt drink as Mitsuo polished off his pudding cup. Just as the man had begun to eye the caramel flan across the table, the shop's door clattered open with a violent tinkling of the bells as Sai stormed in.
Hikaru could do nothing but gawk at him. Sai looked furious; he was pale and shaky, and seemed to have run the distance from the bus station to this shop purely on anger alone. He came to a stop next to Hikaru, one hand clamping onto his charge's shoulder as narrowed violet eyes remained on his father.
"You look well," Mitsuo stated, relieved and happy.
Sai was having none of it. "You kidnapped him, didn't you?" he scowled, practically pulling Hikaru out of his seat. The boy followed along messily, a jumble of limbs that Sai only half-consciously sorted out to better hold. Apparently, protective instincts were flaring high right now, although Hikaru couldn't see why; Mitsuo wasn't actually doing anything.
"I wanted to chat with my grandson, is that so wrong?" Mitsuo sighed, playing the victim. It was playful, however, as if he'd expected Sai's reaction and only found it endearing. The Meijin gritted his teeth, uncharacteristically unkempt when confronted by his father.
"Just stay out of our lives," Sai finally managed out. He turned and grabbed hold of Hikaru's wrist, pulling the boy along without ever looking back. Hikaru did, though, catching Mitsuo's gentle smile and farewell wave.
Once out of the shop and down the street, Sai finally managed to recover enough equilibiruim to start ranting. "You are never to be alone with him, Hikaru! Do you understand? If you even think he's trying to approach you, you tell me right away!"
Hikaru wanted to point out that how was he supposed to know, he hadn't even known Sai had a father to start with. But the words caught in his throat, unwilling to make themselves known as Sai herded him towards the bus stop.
"-Sai. Sai, you're hurting my wrist."
The words finally broke through, clearing the haze of worryangerterror that had clouded Sai's mind the moment his father had picked up the other end of the line.
Sai let go hurriedly, twisting around in regret. Hikaru's face was downcast, his expression carefully cleared into neutrality. It was a defensive look on his young face and Sai did the first thing he was used to doing - he hugged him.
"I'm sorry for acting that way," Sai murmured. "...but he's dangerous, Hikaru."
He said it like a secret, as if his own father was the monster that hid under his bed as a child. Hikaru slowly raised his arms to hug Sai back.
He supposed he wasn't the only one affected by monsters.
"...what the fuck are you doing?"
Tomorou glanced back, grin stretching his lips wide as he continued his strokes with the brush. Black ink smeared across the paper in gentle glides, thick and thin as per his desire as he drew out each character with artistic precision. The ink may be heavy but it dried fast, so Tomoru knew he wouldn't be down here for long.
Masaki looked like he was moments away from either punching him or just rolling his eyes. Tomorou had noticed the blond looked more upbeat lately, a strange reaction to getting his ass whipped that sent some of the lower members of the Gate into panic attacks. If Chikara hadn't been so busy wallowing in his depression, he probably would have been as amused as Tomorou was.
"It's only proper to mark it," Tomorou answered lightly. He set the brush aside and stared at his finished work - simple, elegant, and skewed. It fit Shanhai perfectly.
Masaki looked over it, feigning disinterest. "That doesn't even make fucking sense," he sneered after a moment.
Tomorou pulled out his phone with a smirk. "That's because it's in Chinese, you idiot."
Masaki glared over at him, before moving to hover over the plain wooden box set on the floor. They were in the basement of the Gate, the only place deemed safe enough to keep the box so that it wouldn't be disturbed until it could be placed in its final destination.
"Where's he going, anyway?" Tomorou asked, flipping open his cell to type out a message.
Masaki stared at the box, reaching out to gently stroke the edges. "The ocean. It's the closest we can get him to home."
Tomorou hummed in response, sending the message out with a quick thumb jab. Only a few moments later did his inbox ping with a failed send notice.
"Oh, he cancelled his phone," Tomorou pouted.
Masaki didn't tear his eyes away from the box. "Who?"
"Itsuka. I was going to break the news to him," Tomoru replied candidly. Now he had Masaki's undivided attention; the blond's eyes were angry as they bored into him. Tomorou just grinned wolfishly in response; there was nothing Masaki could do about Tomorou's willfulness and they both knew it.
"Why?" Masaki finally asked.
Tomorou shrugged, uncaring. "Because of hope, I suppose. It's such a silly thing," he explained, picking up the piece of paper he'd worked so hard on. Fingers began to turn and fold the pages, slowly, gracefully; there would be no mistakes here. Fold, fold, fold; he tucked and pulled, soon enough having an origami crane resting in the palm of his hand. "Hope always seems to desert you the moment it's most needed."
Masaki said nothing in reply, only watched him as Tomorou moved forward to join him next to the wooden box. He opened up the crate and placed his gift among the ashes.
"Goodbye, Shanhai."
春眠不覺曉,
Spring dreams not awakening,
處處聞啼鳥。
Until everywhere birds are singing.
夜來風雨聲,
In last night's storm and rain,
花落知多少。
Don't know how many flowers were lost.
A/N: Only Hikaru could take a step forward and then cartwheel back... Oh but I still haven't decided on chapter lengths, so we'll see how that ends up.
-On Shirakawa: He's the Go instructor from the beginning chapters in canon. He just...took over his own personality and I can't stop him.
-On Fujiwara Mitsuo: He's just getting started~
-On Fujiwara Saika: Mitsuo has a terrible sense of humor.
(Saika = 彩花, "colorful flower". Interestingly (cough), "the lowest, the worst (最下)" and "calamity, catastrophe (災禍)" are also pronounced "saika" because I am a terrible person.)
-On Shanhai: He's dead. (cries) The poem is Meng Hao-ran's "Dawn in Spring"
Teaser: ... (defensive look) Maybe the positive direction is still going! (looks away, guilty)
Reviews greatly help speed up the writing process~ ;) I received so many great reviews last time!
So any questions, comments, concrit? Then...
Kindly drop a review.
