Disclaimer: I don't own Hikaru No Go, it's as simple as that. (Although I
would really, really want to!)
Author's notes:
My sincere thanks to DarkCyradis and all the other reviewers for the critique! :) I've tried to correct the mistakes. if there's any other errors please tell me. And, this was done without the knowledge of my great beta-reader, Ianthem, so any mistakes are my fault. My apologies if if didn't make it clear the last time that this was from Hikaru's point of view.
This fic came about as I was doing my literature paper so if it's depressing and rushed, please be easy on me. (lousy excuse, yes I know) Flames are welcome (they keep me realistic) and reviews are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
~~To Know Nothing~~
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"I have nothing." I say it out loud, without registering its meaning, just another phrase to appease you.
Yet I can feel your anger rising, bitter as bile, as it threatens to overflow. You narrow your eyes dangerously, the glistening orbs iridescent. I am prepared for this, your rage, your unrelenting shouting as the other customers scurry by.
You don't seem to care, and neither do I. Because I know what will happen, and the crackle of electricity begins to unleash, making every fibre in my body begin to tremble. I shove my chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor, slamming my fists down on the board. The stones rattle, clattering against each other as the formation crumbles.
The anger sparks up in your eyes, burning spheres of molten emerald. Your fingers dance over the board, gently shifting the stones into place. You are angry, furious at my disrespect for the game, our game.
I watch your progress, each slender finger flitting from group to group. I marvel at your memory, your ability to recall each position as perfectly as it was just played. I continue watching, arms folded defiantly over my chest.
People say we fight because we are opposites, like the two ends of the spectrum that will never meet. That we always rub one another the wrong way, sparks flying as the argument continues. But we know better.
Opposite poles attract, like poles repel. I can see myself in you, my every emotion reflected upon your face. Perhaps you just don't realize it, but you see through me crystal clear, nothing hidden from your probing eyes My defenses break down, my impenetrable mask in ruins; after all, how can you lie to a mirror?
My pretenses stripped bare before you, my every thought going through your head. Likewise with your thoughts. It's come to a point where I venture to guess you, to read you, to see past your emotionless face to understand you. You are like a poem, ambivalent, yet disconcertingly beautiful amongst your power.
I think I almost know you now, how your thoughts work, how all your feelings are concealed and buried. Yet I alone can unlock them and stoke the flame of your anger to a raging inferno. I know how to calm the storm after the violent tempest. I'm as close to knowing you as I can ever get. I think.
I am gripped by the shoulders now, strong hands forcing me back against the wall. This is new. Yet I respond as I usually do, raising my voice with a barely concealed excitement. I play Go the same way. I keep to my plans and go ahead if I know they work, never thrown of by an opponent's unorthodox move.
It is the same here. You're changing the routine, playing a different hand as you become more violent. Not just shouting anymore, not just content with heated words yelled across the room. Well.
Of course I have no objections. I want to make you angry; I strive to make you enraged. It thrills me as much as playing with you. Just the knowledge of knowing I can ignite your temper and make it fly. That is enough. I love the way you are angry, the way you argue and shout and holler. I love your anger as it is, raw, unadulterated and untamed. I confess I start arguments on purpose, just to see you. Sounds stupid, does it not?
But it's true. I'm so enthralled by you, by your mere presence. I just need you to be around. I even meet for you under the pretense of playing with you. I want to be close to you, but I am afraid of your scorching intensity, afraid that I'll be found out.
Just how does one lie to one's own mirror?!
You glare at me now, demanding to know why I wasn't playing well. Don't you know? It's because I want to see you angry! How else can I ever be near you otherwise? I push you away, my own temper starting to rise as well. Arguments are exciting for me. Especially those with you.
Then I say it. "Because I hate you, Touya Akira, you cold bastard!" It just flowed from my mouth, a sharp retort to something I didn't even hear. I snap my mouth shut. But I see the shock spreading on your numb face. Your mouth opens in horror, then clamps shut with a jerk. I've hit the mark.
And I've gone over. You sweep your hand over the board carelessly, letting the stones cascade over the edge of the table in a stunning monochrome waterfall. You refuse to look at me, eyes adverted as you shove your chair in with a slam.
I stare on in horror, in an unbreakable trance as you pick up your coat. This isn't right, this isn't right! No, I'm the one supposed to leave abruptly, the one who is rude and impertinent and uncaring. The one who leaves by slamming is chair, grabbing his bag and leaving you to clear the stones.
This is all wrong. Now you're grabbing your bag roughly from Ichikawa, practically snatching it as you turn on your heels and stride out of the door. I see hurt on your face, anger and a deep sadness that flickers uncertainly before dissolving to a blank mask.
I can see the hurt, the sadness, the pain as the emotions fight to be surfaced. You're already out of the door, running towards home. A sense of pain pervades me, and the lingering emptiness that I feel when you are not around threatens to return in full flood. I unconsciously place my hand to soothe the throbbing ache in my heart.
I get down on my knees, trembling hands reaching out it pick up the stones scattered on the floor. The harsh light glints off them, each one a flawless pearl. My hands shake as they gather the stones from the ground to replace them in the containers. The stones flow from my hands with ease, tumbling into the wooden containers. I no longer care anymore, black with white, white with black. When one overflows, I gather the scattered stones to place them in the other container.
A sudden sound startles me. I look up, realizing that I just slammed the lid of the container down more harshly than I intended. I take my bag from the counter, ignoring the worried glance from Ichikawa. I stare at the stones that still lie on the board, ignoring the sourness in my throat.
I take my leave.
The sakura blossoms drift past, a blizzard of pink hues that blinds me. I stand in the middle of it, feeling the chilly air cut through my jacket to render me freezing. I tumble down to my knees, body wracked with sobs as the flowers whirl uncaringly past. I'm blinded and lost. Tears fall, hitting the ground as shattered droplets.
Because I know, because I know.
You leave for China tomorrow.
The rivulets of tears down my cheeks flow, in time never-ending.
::Owari::
Thanks for sticking all the way through! (You actually did?) Please review! :)
Author's notes:
My sincere thanks to DarkCyradis and all the other reviewers for the critique! :) I've tried to correct the mistakes. if there's any other errors please tell me. And, this was done without the knowledge of my great beta-reader, Ianthem, so any mistakes are my fault. My apologies if if didn't make it clear the last time that this was from Hikaru's point of view.
This fic came about as I was doing my literature paper so if it's depressing and rushed, please be easy on me. (lousy excuse, yes I know) Flames are welcome (they keep me realistic) and reviews are appreciated. Thank you for reading!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
~~To Know Nothing~~
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"I have nothing." I say it out loud, without registering its meaning, just another phrase to appease you.
Yet I can feel your anger rising, bitter as bile, as it threatens to overflow. You narrow your eyes dangerously, the glistening orbs iridescent. I am prepared for this, your rage, your unrelenting shouting as the other customers scurry by.
You don't seem to care, and neither do I. Because I know what will happen, and the crackle of electricity begins to unleash, making every fibre in my body begin to tremble. I shove my chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor, slamming my fists down on the board. The stones rattle, clattering against each other as the formation crumbles.
The anger sparks up in your eyes, burning spheres of molten emerald. Your fingers dance over the board, gently shifting the stones into place. You are angry, furious at my disrespect for the game, our game.
I watch your progress, each slender finger flitting from group to group. I marvel at your memory, your ability to recall each position as perfectly as it was just played. I continue watching, arms folded defiantly over my chest.
People say we fight because we are opposites, like the two ends of the spectrum that will never meet. That we always rub one another the wrong way, sparks flying as the argument continues. But we know better.
Opposite poles attract, like poles repel. I can see myself in you, my every emotion reflected upon your face. Perhaps you just don't realize it, but you see through me crystal clear, nothing hidden from your probing eyes My defenses break down, my impenetrable mask in ruins; after all, how can you lie to a mirror?
My pretenses stripped bare before you, my every thought going through your head. Likewise with your thoughts. It's come to a point where I venture to guess you, to read you, to see past your emotionless face to understand you. You are like a poem, ambivalent, yet disconcertingly beautiful amongst your power.
I think I almost know you now, how your thoughts work, how all your feelings are concealed and buried. Yet I alone can unlock them and stoke the flame of your anger to a raging inferno. I know how to calm the storm after the violent tempest. I'm as close to knowing you as I can ever get. I think.
I am gripped by the shoulders now, strong hands forcing me back against the wall. This is new. Yet I respond as I usually do, raising my voice with a barely concealed excitement. I play Go the same way. I keep to my plans and go ahead if I know they work, never thrown of by an opponent's unorthodox move.
It is the same here. You're changing the routine, playing a different hand as you become more violent. Not just shouting anymore, not just content with heated words yelled across the room. Well.
Of course I have no objections. I want to make you angry; I strive to make you enraged. It thrills me as much as playing with you. Just the knowledge of knowing I can ignite your temper and make it fly. That is enough. I love the way you are angry, the way you argue and shout and holler. I love your anger as it is, raw, unadulterated and untamed. I confess I start arguments on purpose, just to see you. Sounds stupid, does it not?
But it's true. I'm so enthralled by you, by your mere presence. I just need you to be around. I even meet for you under the pretense of playing with you. I want to be close to you, but I am afraid of your scorching intensity, afraid that I'll be found out.
Just how does one lie to one's own mirror?!
You glare at me now, demanding to know why I wasn't playing well. Don't you know? It's because I want to see you angry! How else can I ever be near you otherwise? I push you away, my own temper starting to rise as well. Arguments are exciting for me. Especially those with you.
Then I say it. "Because I hate you, Touya Akira, you cold bastard!" It just flowed from my mouth, a sharp retort to something I didn't even hear. I snap my mouth shut. But I see the shock spreading on your numb face. Your mouth opens in horror, then clamps shut with a jerk. I've hit the mark.
And I've gone over. You sweep your hand over the board carelessly, letting the stones cascade over the edge of the table in a stunning monochrome waterfall. You refuse to look at me, eyes adverted as you shove your chair in with a slam.
I stare on in horror, in an unbreakable trance as you pick up your coat. This isn't right, this isn't right! No, I'm the one supposed to leave abruptly, the one who is rude and impertinent and uncaring. The one who leaves by slamming is chair, grabbing his bag and leaving you to clear the stones.
This is all wrong. Now you're grabbing your bag roughly from Ichikawa, practically snatching it as you turn on your heels and stride out of the door. I see hurt on your face, anger and a deep sadness that flickers uncertainly before dissolving to a blank mask.
I can see the hurt, the sadness, the pain as the emotions fight to be surfaced. You're already out of the door, running towards home. A sense of pain pervades me, and the lingering emptiness that I feel when you are not around threatens to return in full flood. I unconsciously place my hand to soothe the throbbing ache in my heart.
I get down on my knees, trembling hands reaching out it pick up the stones scattered on the floor. The harsh light glints off them, each one a flawless pearl. My hands shake as they gather the stones from the ground to replace them in the containers. The stones flow from my hands with ease, tumbling into the wooden containers. I no longer care anymore, black with white, white with black. When one overflows, I gather the scattered stones to place them in the other container.
A sudden sound startles me. I look up, realizing that I just slammed the lid of the container down more harshly than I intended. I take my bag from the counter, ignoring the worried glance from Ichikawa. I stare at the stones that still lie on the board, ignoring the sourness in my throat.
I take my leave.
The sakura blossoms drift past, a blizzard of pink hues that blinds me. I stand in the middle of it, feeling the chilly air cut through my jacket to render me freezing. I tumble down to my knees, body wracked with sobs as the flowers whirl uncaringly past. I'm blinded and lost. Tears fall, hitting the ground as shattered droplets.
Because I know, because I know.
You leave for China tomorrow.
The rivulets of tears down my cheeks flow, in time never-ending.
::Owari::
Thanks for sticking all the way through! (You actually did?) Please review! :)