Disclaimer: I don't own HikaGo…Gawds knows what I would do with it if I did… *goes back into her shounen-ai fantasies*

Dedication: This chapter and series definitely goes out The Evil One (as she likes to call herself) *laughs* who encouraged *coughbuggedcough* me non-stop to at least finish one fucking chapter. Not only that, she helped me out with some of my plot holes (Yay! ^ ^) and is one of the only people who'll listen to me bitch and complain about being too lazy to finish this thing.

A/N: *blinks* I can't believe that I'm doing this…I've had this idea in my head for a while and like you can see in my dedication section, it actually took a while to get this story off the ground. Hopefully, as the plot unravels in my mind, it'll be different from some of the fics you see. To be honest with you guys, I have no idea if I'll ever finish this fic off or not but if I don't, at least it'll be a pleasant one-shot… I think…- -;

Another Chance

Prologue: Reminiscing

Akira sighed in exhaustion as he sat heavily in an armchair. He was so glad that he was home. The final game for the Meijin series resulted in him keeping his title for another year. He knew he should be glad that he was successful in defending his title but he really wasn't. He just felt old.

He was only thirty-three— or was it thirty-four? Yet, his bones seemed to ache with a tiredness that had been present for years. He was sick of his life— sick of coming night after night to an empty house.

His life was far from perfect. He had been married (the key word "had") but after five years of unhappiness, they had divorced. The only blessing that had come out of it was his six-year-old daughter, Akane. Although, she spent most of her time with her mother, she constantly spent time with him as well. His spirits always seemed lighter with Akane around, full of warmth and laughter. His ray of light among the darkness— that's what she was to him.


It saddened him how even his passion of Go could not sustain him. He loved Go yet; it felt like he had walked up to a brick wall. There was no way to get past it; there weren't even cracks which rays of light could filter through. He was stuck with nowhere to go. There was no one to challenge him and no one that he could pursue. There was no one who could rival his strength and no one that would allow him to progress past that wall. He hated it.

There had been a time when his whole being was in turmoil. A turmoil of passion that blinded and confused him, that made him want, that made him hunger, that made every cell in his body to yearn to move forward and come out on top, despite all consequences. It had nourished him and in turn, he had become addicted, addicted to Shindo Hikaru.

A pang of pain shot through him and he winced, although not surprised at his body's response. It still hurt to think about the boy— his rival— the boy he barely knew. Images of Hikaru were still imprinted in his mind— the innocence and unbridled enthusiasm that developed into a quiet determination, as he grew more mature.

It always bewildered Akira these rapid changes in the Go player. Every encounter with Hikaru was a bit of the puzzle that filled the unfinished picture in his mind. These weren't memories— he hadn't known Hikaru long enough or well enough for something like that.

He wasn't sure what drew him to Hikaru either. Yes, he was his rival, yet, there was an unidentifiable spark within the latter, almost a natural love for Go that few kids his age possessed. He felt for the first time that someone truly understood him and shared the same passion for Go.

How he had looked forward to those confrontations! These were his chances to assert himself in the other's life. Although he would never admit it, he loved the competition. He had loved the thrill and surge of emotions it brought in him. Although at first it had confused him, and he remembered how bewildered he had been that Hikaru, of all people, brought out these conflicting emotions.

Later on, he did find out about the other side about Hikaru, albeit vaguely— how he had been the one he had played in the beginning and the one he had chased at first. Surprisingly though, it hadn't changed his view on Hikaru. He was his rival but he still respected him. Hikaru had even earned his admiration, although this fact had never appealed to him. It had been so perfect, a whole world that seemed to only exist for the two of them— both of them striving for the Hand of God, the perfect game.

Oh how wrong he had been! It had been naïve of him to think that such a world would continue to exist. This world had shattered like the most fragile vase by something he had least expected— a foreign element that hadn't been accounted for until it was too late. What had it been?

A girl.

He still remembered it as it were yesterday. He was sixteen and was rising up the ranks of the Go world quickly. He was in the finals of the Ouza tournament, in an attempt to win his first title. His life was advancing quite nicely— even his competition with Hikaru was as strong as ever, who still held the status of his official rival and worthy adversary.

Then out of the blue, she showed up. She was half-Japanese and half-British, with light brown hair and unusual eyes, who had come to Japan to visit her relatives. He didn't see what was so special about her— she was an ordinary girl— but Hikaru became infatuated by her.

Being a reasonable guy, he thought it was going to blow over. After all, there was Akari, Hikaru's on again, off again girlfriend. But then, it started to get serious. Everywhere he was, she seemed to be right there beside him. Yet, what infuriated him the most was the fact she had no interest in Go whatsoever. Whenever he spotted her at Go competitions, she always seemed to be half-asleep and only gave the Go matches a cursory glance. How could Hikaru be interested in a girl like her?

Then came the final blow. After the years he had dedicated to showing his true strength to Hikaru, the moment had come to play Hikaru in the finals for the Honinbo tournament. This was the first time he had gotten this far and now, as if to fulfill his ultimate wish, he was challenging Hikaru. He hadn't been able to go to sleep that night but his lack of sleep didn't show. He was literally shaking with excitement as he sat before the Go board, waiting for his opponent to show.

It was a forfeit. Hikaru didn't show up. Akira still couldn't comprehend the situation— he had thought that Hikaru had wanted this match as much as he had; it looked like he was wrong. He finally understood the taste of true bitterness as it rose up his throat and left behind a horrible aftertaste.

He had refused to speak to anyone after that, until he found out the reason for Hikaru's absence. Ogata, being the fountain of information that he is, finally satisfied him with the knowledge that was deprived from him. And, when he found out, he felt like laughing and crying at the same time.

He had eloped. He had eloped with that girl. He had ran away with her to God knows where and was going to marry the fucking girl. The girl who didn't even deserve Hikaru— what gave her the right to marry him?

Anger rose within him at the sudden knowledge. He felt it penetrating his skin oozing through his pores at the thought. How could Hikaru be stupid enough to think that girl would make him happy?

He could have handled the blinding anger. He really could have. However, it was immediately followed by a crushing sadness that hit him hard and fast. He suddenly became unaware of his surroundings as he ran out of the room, blurry images passing him in his wake. He wasn't even aware how he had even gotten home as he holed himself up in his room, only relieved that he could be alone with his thoughts. He leaned against a wall as he slowly slid to the floor, the reality of the situation finally sinking in and that was when tears finally came.

Akira blinked— unaware that he had been openly staring into space— as the present rushed back as it always seemed to do. He pinched the bridge of his nose to alleviate the ache that started to pulse in his temples. He sighed as he saw the time— 1:03 a.m.— flashing in the darkness from his bedside. His eyes then drifted to the other side of the room where bottles of clear liquids shone brilliantly on his mini-bar, as the moonlight danced along the glass surfaces.

As tempting as it was, as much as he wanted to wipe the image of Hikaru that lived in his mind with alcohol, Akira knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do. He had an interview with a Go reporter tomorrow about today's match and it wasn't going to make the situation any better if he had a killer hangover in the process. He'll save that for another day.

Akira yawned as he flopped onto his bed, "I might as well go to sleep. After all, tomorrow's another day."