Disclaimer: Hikaru no Go and all related characters in this piece of fiction do not belong to me.
It was interesting how the fingers of a Go-player and a pianist were so alike. Both were slim and quick, and both were masterful in their respective art. It is to be admitted that only two fingers were used by pro Go players, but there was the same grace found in the digits of the pianist as both types of hands hit the different surfaces - one made of ivory, the other of wood.
A shallow person with little understanding of both arts would declare pompously and definitely that there cannot be any similarity between the two.
But Touya Akira knew there was.
He had been to a piano concert only once, so many years ago that the name of the pianist escaped him, and he and his father had later met the pianist. It had been the pianist who had initiated the meeting; he played Go to some extent, and greatly admired the exalted Touya Meijin with deep respect. As the three of them had taken their customary bows, Akira had glanced at the pianist's hands - and to his shock and consternation, they were exactly the same as his father's.
Slim. Smooth. Pale. The knuckles stood out quite clearly, not in a skeletal manner, but in a healthy way. The fingers tapered off, like all pianists', and Akira could see that the pianist was careful not to put stress on his hands, like his father.
When the pianist and Touya Meijin had settled on the mats to play a round of Go, as humans playing it for leisure, not as two people of separate professions competing, Akira set at one side. He had intended to watch the game and learn from it, for he was still sure that he had much to learn, but he realised that his attention was more on the hands of the two, and not on the game itself.
A man's hands give away what his face does not.
Akira felt that there was something familiar about the way the pianist held the slim, black stone in his two fingers. At first he thought it was because his father played that way as well. Then he figured that all Go players play that way. And then it struck him.
The grace with which the pianist set the stone down, and ease with which he held himself and the stone, and the calm on his face... they were the same, as if he were playing the piano, and not Go. And the intense concentration that ran under the calm on his face was the same when a pianist listens through the music; teasing out each sound so that it portrayed the emotion he wanted it to.
Akira realised then and there that something else was uncannily similar and important - the moment the fingers were lifted, both on the Goban and on the piano, the consequence could not be changed. If a pianist hit a wrong key, the whole show would be over, the whole piece marred in the minds of the audience, just like that, usurped by a single, mishandled note.
The image of the pianist's hand lingering in the air when Akira figured everything out would be frozen forever in Akira's mind. It served as a motivation to be as graceful and easy as that piano player, which was why he played Go so physically gently, unlike his father. It also served as a reminder to be disciplined and to think through every move --
because one wrong move also spelt disaster for a whole game.
It was interesting how the fingers of a Go-player and a pianist were so alike. Both were slim and quick, and both were masterful in their respective art. It is to be admitted that only two fingers were used by pro Go players, but there was the same grace found in the digits of the pianist as both types of hands hit the different surfaces - one made of ivory, the other of wood.
A shallow person with little understanding of both arts would declare pompously and definitely that there cannot be any similarity between the two.
But Touya Akira knew there was.
He had been to a piano concert only once, so many years ago that the name of the pianist escaped him, and he and his father had later met the pianist. It had been the pianist who had initiated the meeting; he played Go to some extent, and greatly admired the exalted Touya Meijin with deep respect. As the three of them had taken their customary bows, Akira had glanced at the pianist's hands - and to his shock and consternation, they were exactly the same as his father's.
Slim. Smooth. Pale. The knuckles stood out quite clearly, not in a skeletal manner, but in a healthy way. The fingers tapered off, like all pianists', and Akira could see that the pianist was careful not to put stress on his hands, like his father.
When the pianist and Touya Meijin had settled on the mats to play a round of Go, as humans playing it for leisure, not as two people of separate professions competing, Akira set at one side. He had intended to watch the game and learn from it, for he was still sure that he had much to learn, but he realised that his attention was more on the hands of the two, and not on the game itself.
A man's hands give away what his face does not.
Akira felt that there was something familiar about the way the pianist held the slim, black stone in his two fingers. At first he thought it was because his father played that way as well. Then he figured that all Go players play that way. And then it struck him.
The grace with which the pianist set the stone down, and ease with which he held himself and the stone, and the calm on his face... they were the same, as if he were playing the piano, and not Go. And the intense concentration that ran under the calm on his face was the same when a pianist listens through the music; teasing out each sound so that it portrayed the emotion he wanted it to.
Akira realised then and there that something else was uncannily similar and important - the moment the fingers were lifted, both on the Goban and on the piano, the consequence could not be changed. If a pianist hit a wrong key, the whole show would be over, the whole piece marred in the minds of the audience, just like that, usurped by a single, mishandled note.
The image of the pianist's hand lingering in the air when Akira figured everything out would be frozen forever in Akira's mind. It served as a motivation to be as graceful and easy as that piano player, which was why he played Go so physically gently, unlike his father. It also served as a reminder to be disciplined and to think through every move --
because one wrong move also spelt disaster for a whole game.